'we might just get away with it.' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][H]
established relationship • fire lord & fire lady • playful intimacy • 3,2k
→ sokka’s arrival gives the fire lady the perfect excuse to neglect her duties and disappear with her husband for a while.
'how can i be guilty as sin?' Zuko x Reader — [S][A][Y]
forbidden desire • mutual yearning • 4,1k
→ a sheltered earth kingdom noble girl reads a letter she was never meant to see and begins wanting a fire lord she can never truly have.
'you could do it on your own (while you're looking at me).' Zuko x Reader — [S][F]
established relationship • fire lord & fire lady • 1,1k
→ after a long day trapped in meetings, zuko returns to his chambers only to find you already halfway undone by thoughts of him.
'i woke up just in time (now i wake up by your side).' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][Y]
newly engaged • friends to lovers • emotional intimacy • 4,2k
→ after years of longing, stolen glances, and pretending otherwise, zuko is finally allowed to love you openly—and intends to enjoy every second of it. (part of 'only bought this dress so you could take it off 'dress series' but can be read as a standalone.)
'no ordinary things with you.' Zuko x Reader — [F][C][H]
established marriage • family life • princess izumi • 3,1k
→ the Fire Lady has meetings to attend and a kingdom to help run, but first she has to track down her missing husband and daughter.
✦blurbs.
'so good it hurts.' Zuko x Reader — [S][F]
established relationship • fire lord & fire lady • playful teasing • 591
→ what the Fire Lord and Fire Lady get up to in the precious moments between royal meetings.
'don't you ever grow up.' Zuko x Reader — [F][C][H]
princess izumi • family life • soft dad!zuko • 1,3k
→ bedtime rules become significantly harder to enforce when both your daughter and husband are determined to ignore them.
'your friends are around (so be quiet).' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][H]
established relationship • mission aftermath • sharing a tent • 606
→ after a mission goes longer than expected, sharing a tent with your boyfriend proves to be far more dangerous than the mission itself.
✦series.
'dress' series.
'only bought this dress so you could take it off.' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][Y][H]
friends to lovers • mutual pining • royal gathering • 5,5k
→ a royal gathering, one persuasive Katara, and a suspicious blue drink make it impossible to pretend you and the fire lord are still just friends.
2. 'there is an indentation in the shape of you.' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][Y]
morning after • political tension • pining payoff • 3,1k
→ the morning after proves far more dangerous than the night before, especially when breakfast becomes impossible to survive with dignity intact.
3. 'and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.' Zuko x Reader — [S][A][F][H]
friends to lovers • love confession • happy ending • 3,1k
→ while the Fire Nation waits for its future fire lady, zuko’s silence says everything you never wanted to hear—until it doesn’t.
Extra: 'i woke up just in time (now i wake up by your side).' Zuko x Reader — [S][F][Y]
newly engaged • friends to lovers • emotional intimacy • 4,2k
→ after years of longing, stolen glances, and pretending otherwise, zuko is finally allowed to love you openly—and intends to enjoy every second of it.
'call it what you want' series.
'they fade to nothing when i look at him.' Zuko x Reader — [S][C][F]
hurt/comfort • praise • throne room intimacy • 2,3k
→ overwhelmed by duty and expectations, the fire lady learns that sometimes devotion can sound a lot like worship.
2. 'starry eyes sparking up my darkest night.' Zuko x Reader — [S][C][A][F]
jealousy • reassurance • hurt/comfort • 4,4k
→ one harmless dance at a royal banquet sends Fire Lord Zuko spiraling straight into the throne room, where his wife reminds him exactly who he is to her.
'whaletail island/ready for it...?' series.
1. 'island breeze and lights down low.' Zuko x Reader — [F][C][H]
established marriage • gaang chaos • island getaway • 7,1k
→ the gaang orchestrates a fake diplomatic summit to force the Fire Lord and Fire Lady into taking a much-needed break.
2. 'baby, let the games begin.' Zuko x Reader — [F][H]
established marriage • competitive games • island mystery • 5,3k
→ the Fire Lord and Fire Lady learn to have fun, Sokka turns friendship into a competitive sport, and Whaletail Island begins hiding something beneath its cliffs.
3. 'you should see the things we do.' Zuko x Reader — [F][H][A]
adventure • spiritual shenanigans • gaang chaos • 11,1k
→ a guardian spirit needs help, the Fire Lord gets distracted at the worst possible moment, and the gaang spends one last night proving exactly why nobody should ever let them compete against each other.
4. 'touch me and you'll never be alone'. Zuko x Reader — [S][F][H][C]
established marriage • hot springs • gaang chaos • 9,2k
→ a missing Fire Lord leads to a secluded morning at the hot springs, the SOKA Summit ends with one final round of chaos, and everyone discovers that saying goodbye to Whaletail Island is much harder than expected.
and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.
(‘only bought this dress so you could take it off’ — part three. Part one here. Part two here.)
adult zuko x reader | contains smut | minors dni.
summary: in which the fire nation waits for its future fire lady, your name is nowhere in the conversation, and zuko’s silence says all you need to know until you’re proven very wrong.
content: adult!zuko x reader, angst with a happy ending, explicit sexual content (the most explicit I’ve written ngl), friends to lovers, the gaang participating and teasing, action, humor, fluff, tooth-rotting love declarations.
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
The street curved gently along the inner ring of the city, where the noise of the harbor faded into half-open shops, low-burning incense, and voices blending into a steady hum.
You preferred this part of the Fire Nation. It was always easier to disappear in it.
“… I’m just saying,” Toph said, catching your arm as she walked beside you, “if he had something to say, he would’ve said it by now.”
“That’s not how things work here,” Katara replied, patient but firm. “There are protocols, expectations… not even he can just ignore the council.”
Toph scoffed. “He ignores them all the time.”
“Not about this. He doesn’t have a choice.”
“Well, that doesn’t make it right that he escorted her out of the palace and hasn’t said anything since.”
“Toph!” Katara scolded.
“It’s fine, Katara,” you said, placing your hand over Toph’s where it rested on your arm. “As much as I hate to admit it… she’s right.”
It had been days. Long enough for the palace to feel distant again, like something imagined rather than lived, somewhere you had stood, somewhere you had—
You stopped that thought before it could even dare to take shape.
“It is out of character for Zuko to cut off communication,” Katara insisted. “He must have a reason.”
“He better,” Toph muttered. “Otherwise he’s getting his ass kicked the next time I feel him take a step near me.”
That almost made you smile.
“If he ever does,” you said quietly.
Toph tilted her head.
“You’ve been avoiding the palace,” she said. “You could’ve gone back. You could’ve seen him already.”
“That’s not true. I’m not avoiding anything.”
“You haven’t gone back.”
You exhaled, soft and brief. “I didn’t think I needed to. And I still don’t…”
A group passed just ahead of you, their voices carrying in that effortless way through the crowded street.
“…it’s already decided, from what I heard.”
“Of course it is. They wouldn’t drag it out.”
“She must be someone important.”
“She has to be. The Fire Nation wouldn’t settle for less.”
Your steps slowed.
“I heard she’s from the Earth Kingdom.”
“They say she’s beautiful… from a noble line—”
You stopped, Toph stopped with you.
Katara turned, already watching you, then glanced back at the voices before returning her attention to your face. “You know they don’t actually know anything,” she said gently.
“They seem to know enough,” you replied.
Toph let out a quiet huff. “No, they don’t. They’re just filling in the blanks with whatever sounds right to them.”
“It makes sense,” you said again, your tone calm, perhaps too much. “He needs someone who benefits the nation. That’s the entire point.”
“And you don’t?” Katara asked.
You didn’t answer.
Because the answer wasn’t something you wanted to examine, at least not here, not now, not with strangers speaking as if your life were something distant and theoretical.
You straightened your posture.
“It doesn’t matter,” you said at last. “Whatever he decides, it’ll be the right choice for the Fire Nation.”
Toph snorted.
“Keep telling yourself that, pebbles.”
Toph’s nickname still lingered in the air when the wind shifted above you.
A broad and familiar shadow crossed the street, and a second later Aang landed swiftly between you and the others, his eyes moving quickly from face to face as if counting, making sure no one was missing.
“Good, you’re close,” he said, a little out of breath. “There’s been a break along the ridge road, just past the outer fields, the one that runs above the old quarry.”
You stilled.
“If it’s along the quarry edge, the base won’t hold for long,” you said, already turning toward the eastern slope without thinking.
Toph tilted her chin up slightly, listening through the soles of her feet.
“It’s shifting,” she confirmed. “Not fast, but it’s definitely not stable.”
Katara’s hand found your arm briefly.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that if someone panics and tries to cross, the whole thing will give in,” you replied, already moving with Katara and Toph as Aang followed. “Worse if they try to force carts over it.”
“Sokka’s there,” Aang added quickly. “He went ahead when the reports came in.”
“At least he’s there,” you said. “We need to hurry.”
Without letting go of either Toph or Katara, you gathered the fabric of your skirt slightly as the stone road gave way to packed earth, the city thinning into low houses and wind-bent trees, the air turning drier, sharper.
“And…” Aang hesitated,“…Zuko’s on his way.”
Toph scoffed.
“Perfect.”
Perfect, indeed.
♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
The ridge revealed itself like a wound carved into the road.
The path curved along the quarry’s edge, and where it should have held firm, there was a jagged and uneven split, the outer half sagging just enough to tilt a loaded cart toward the drop below. The ground hadn’t broken cleanly; it had given in layers, ash and stone shifting against each other debating between holding or collapsing.
Dust hung low in the air, fine and persistent, clinging to skin, settling into fabric. A group of villagers hovered nearby, caught between urgency and fear, their voices overlapping in restless waves.
Sokka’s voice cut through it all.
“No one crosses until we figure this out! I don’t care if your cabbages are going bad, you’re not dying for them!”
“You said that ten minutes ago!” someone shouted.
“And it’s still true!”
He turned as you approached, relief flashing across his face.
“There you are! Quick summary," Sokka said, gesturing sharply with the hand that held a rope, "the road’s trying to fall into the quarry, the cart’s trying to follow it, and everyone’s trying to help, which is, shockingly, not helping.”
You followed the direction of his gesture.
The cart sat at the very edge of the fracture, its rear wheels still on relatively stable ground while the front had dipped into the uneven split, one side lower than the other. The weight of it dragged forward at a slow, dangerous angle, sacks and crates stacked high enough to shift if given the slightest encouragement. Every small movement such as someone stepping too close or even a stone giving way, made it creak.
Toph and you stepped beside him, your attention already moving across the fracture along with the angle, the depth, the way the earth had split along a weak seam rather than broken outright.
“If anyone pushes that cart like this,” you said, your voice grounded enough to cut through the noise around you, “it won’t just fall.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Sokka muttered. “And someone still suggested we just… pull harder.”
Toph unwrapped her arm from yours and crouched near the split, pressing her fingers into the dirt, her brows knitting as she read the ground.
“It’s hollow underneath,” she said. “If I push from below, it collapses.”
“Maybe don’t push,” you said, lowering beside her. “Pack it."
Toph nodded once, already adjusting her stance. "I could compress the ash instead of forcing it upward", she said, a hand on her chin. "And let it settle into itself.”
Katara stepped closer to the fracture, crouching opposite Toph. She drew a thin stream of water from her waterskin, letting it spill over the loose surface where ash and dust threatened to slide.
“I can bind the top layer,” she said, her voice focused now. “Just enough to keep it from shifting while she compacts it.”
“Not too much,” you added quickly. “If it gets too wet, it’ll slip.”
Katara nodded, adjusting the flow immediately, spreading the water in a thin, controlled layer that darkened the ash without saturating it.
Above them, Aang hovered lower now, guiding steady currents of air to lift the dust away from the fracture, clearing visibility and easing the pressure of falling debris.
“I’ll keep the edge clear,” he said. “Nothing’s coming down on you.”
“Good,” Toph replied, already working.
Sokka nudged your shoulder.
“So, our part?”
You looked at the cart again as it tilted due to uneven weight, the strain pulling one wheel deeper into the soft ground.
“We lighten it,” you said. “Half the load off. Then we can reinforce the edge and guide it across.”
“Guide it,” Sokka repeated. “I like that. Sounds like we survive.”
A faint smile pulled at your lips.
“Secure the axle,” you added. “We guide it from both sides so it doesn’t tip.”
“On it.”
You turned to a villager you recognized, your tone steady enough to anchor the rest.
“We’re moving the supplies first,” you said. “No one crosses until we say so. It will hold, we just need a moment.”
They nodded, and that certainty spread quickly, calming the edges of the crowd.
Soon, movement replaced hesitation. Crates were passed down, hands working in rhythm, weight shifting from cart to ground. Katara kept one eye on the villagers even as she worked with the earth, stepping in when someone got too close, her voice soft but firm, typical Katara.
“Just a little further back... yes, there. You’re safe.”
You were halfway through unloading when warmth brushed the back of your neck and boots struck the ground behind you.
“We’re stabilizing before moving anything,” you corrected.
“I can see that.”
You turned.
He looked as though he had stepped straight out of the palace into the dust. His formal attire remained intact, though softened at the edges by ash and wind, dark strands of hair slipping loose where they were meant to stay in place. The gold woven into his robes caught what little light broke through the haze, dimmed but unmistakable.
And suddenly, being angry at him felt like its own kind of punishment. Because it meant distance, one you, if you had a choice, didn't want to endure.
His gaze found you then, and held just a fraction longer than necessary.
“Then you’re up to speed, Fire Lord.”
A flicker crossed his eyes.
“Good to know I didn’t miss anything.”
Toph let out a short laugh.
“Oh, you definitely missed something.”
“Toph,” Katara warned, though she didn’t stop shaping the surface, water threading through her movements.
“What do you need?” Zuko asked, already stepping forward.
“Controlled heat along the fracture,” you said. “Low and steady. Seal it after Toph compacts.”
He nodded.
“At your call.”
Toph pressed deeper, the earth tightening under her control, ash compressing into something solid. Katara followed her rhythm, smoothing the surface with precise movements of water, binding the top layer just enough to hold.
“Now,” you said.
Zuko’s fire traced the fracture, sealing the line without breaking it, the heat drying and hardening what the others shaped. Aang adjusted the air again, lifting the last of the dust away.
You and Sokka moved back into position beside the cart.
“Go slow,” you murmured.
“I am going slow.”
“Slower.”
Zuko exhaled something close to a quiet laugh.
“It’s leaning left,” you said.
“Compensating,” Sokka replied.
The rope snapped tight in your hands, the weight shifting too quickly. Before you could adjust or protest, Zuko’s hand covered yours.
“Don’t fight it,” he said, close enough now that his voice dropped just for you. “Let it settle first.”
“I know. I don't need help," you said.
His thumb shifted slightly, correcting your grip. Your breath caught.
Behind you, Toph laughed outright.
“Do I get help too, or is this exclusive?” Sokka added.
“Focus,” you said, though your voice’s edge was not found.
Zuko’s hand remained over yours a moment longer, steadying the pull of the rope as the ground beneath the cart shifted again, settling. Under Toph’s control, the loose ash compacted inward, tightening around the hollow pockets below, while a thin layer of moisture from Katara bound the surface just enough to keep it from slipping apart. The fracture no longer yawned open; it held, uneven but reinforced, the weight redistributing instead of dragging forward.
Zuko withdrew his hand.
“Alright,” you said, adjusting your grip, grounding yourself again. “Now we move.”
You and Sokka guided the cart, adjusting with each inch, while Zuko steadied the front, his movements precise and responsive as ever.
“Easy,” you said.
The cart shifted again. The wheel dragged over the uneven seam, resisted, then yielded, inch by careful inch, until the weight finally rolled past the fracture and onto solid ground. Only then did the strain release, the cart settling fully, the danger passing not in a break but in surrender to stability.
Relief spread through the ridge in a single, shared exhale.
Voices rose in a different and lighter tone, gratitude threading through them as people stepped forward again, no longer afraid of the ground beneath them. The man who had spoken to you earlier approached first, dust still clinging to his sleeves, his hands rough from work and now empty of it.
“It was helpful you knew this place. You kept us from making it worse,” he said, glancing briefly toward the cart before returning his gaze to you. “We were ready to push it over ourselves.”
You shook your head gently. “You waited. That made the difference!”
He smiled faintly, then looked past you. “All of you did.”
Others followed, quieter but no less certain. A woman clasped Katara’s hands briefly, thanking her for keeping everyone steady when panic had started to spread. Someone else nodded toward Toph with a mix of awe and familiarity, clearly having felt the ground shift under her control. A young boy hovered near Aang before blurting out a rushed thank you, eyes wide at the way the dust had simply… stopped falling around him. Even Sokka received a few claps on the shoulder, one villager gesturing toward the now-stable cart.
“Good thinking with the rope,” they said.
Sokka straightened slightly. “I do bring strategy to the table.”
“You tied knots,” Toph muttered under her breath.
“Strategic knots.”
You let out a small breath of a laugh, the sound more subdued than the moment called for, but it slipped out anyway.
At the edge of the clearing, just beyond the villagers and the scattered crates from the cart, a pair of Fire Nation guards stood apart from the worksite, their posture composed, untouched by the dust and urgency that had taken over the ridge. They had arrived with him, they were palace detail, not local patrol, you noticed- and unlike the others, they hadn’t intervened.
One of them now held a lacquered box, smaller than the supply crates, its surface polished to a quiet sheen despite the haze around it. It didn’t belong to the cart. It had been carried here.
For a moment, the guard hesitated, glancing toward Zuko as if awaiting instruction now that the immediate crisis had passed.
Zuko noticed, and stepped away from the group, crossing the short distance with that same controlled steadiness he owned.
The guard straightened immediately, offering the box forward.
“My lord—”
Zuko took it before he could finish, his grip firm but unceremonious, as though the exchange required no announcement.
He didn’t look at you, but the path he chose to walk placed him close enough that the space between you narrowed again, the weight of the moment returning in subtler ways.
Behind you, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.
“Alright,” Toph said, arms crossing as she angled her chin in your direction, “are we done fixing things, or do we need another disaster so you two can keep staring at each other?”
“I vote we’re done,” Sokka added immediately, lifting a hand like he was calling it in a council meeting. “Strong vote. Unanimous, actually.”
Toph tilted her head slightly, as if listening for something only she could catch, then smirked.
“Yeah,” she went on, louder now, “we’re definitely done here. Ground’s stable, cart’s safe, tension’s… not our problem.”
“Not even a little,” Sokka agreed. He clapped his hands once, dusting them off. “Which means we should probably go check… literally anywhere else.”
“Anywhere,” Toph echoed.
Katara let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “We’ll be just over there,” she added, gesturing vaguely in the opposite direction. Far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough to pretend they weren’t leaving on purpose.
Aang nodded quickly. “Yes. Monitoring. Very important.”
“Extremely!” Katara said, reaching for Aang's hand.
Toph had already started walking with Sokka.
“Try not to break anything else,” she threw over her shoulder, entirely too pleased with herself.
“And if you do,” Sokka added, backing away now, “we’re not fixing it.”
Katara gave you one last look in a gentler, but no less knowing way, before turning to follow them.
“So,” you said at last, turning to face Zuko, your tone steadier than you felt, “I think congratulations are in order, Fire Lord. I heard you made your choice.”
“You… did?” he asked, uncertainity slipping into his voice.
You nodded, though your gaze dropped almost immediately, your foot nudging at the edge of the grass where it met the packed earth like the ground required your full attention once again. Anything to avoid looking at him, anything to avoid the way your vision threatened to blur.
“She’s a noblewoman from the Earth Kingdom, right?” you continued. “Someone… appropriate. Someone the Fire Nation can benefit from.”
Silence answered you.
You looked up and he was staring at you, completely, utterly speechless. It made something in your chest twist.
“Of course,” you went on, the edge slipping into your voice now, “that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
Your arms crossed before you could stop yourself, the motion sharper than you intended. Your fingers dug into your sleeves, knuckles tightening.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” you pressed. “Am I wrong?”
For a moment, it almost seemed like he might answer, finally say something that would settle the tight, aching uncertainty sitting in your heart. His mouth parted, then closed again, his jaw tightening.
Instead, he laughed.
You went still, your grip loosening just slightly before tightening again, breath catching halfway in your chest.
“Why are you laughing?” you asked, the hurt breaking through now, unfiltered. “This is serious. If it’s not that, then what is it? Not like you can correct me, you’ve been avoiding me!”
The laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come when you turned away from him, the movement abrupt, but you didn’t make it far.
His hand found your arm without force, but pulling you just enough to face him again.
“I know,” he said. “And I—”
“And before an excuse leaves those—” you cut in, your voice sharper than you meant it to be, “—those exquisite lips of yours, maybe think about what you’re going to say first.”
“I am sorry,” he said.
You blinked. The words landed heavier than anything else he could have said.
“What…” The word barely formed. You swallowed, your gaze searching his face, tracing it like you might find the meaning there before you could trust your own ears. “What did you say?”
Despite everything, that familiar hint of amusement returned to his mouth.
“What did you say?” he countered. “Exquisite lips?”
You stared at him.
“Don’t,” you said quickly, heat rising to your face despite yourself. “That’s not— that doesn’t matter. Why are you sorry?” you pressed. “What do you mean?”
He held the box firmly for a moment longer, as though whatever it carried required more than just his hands to keep steady, then let it fall to his side with a quiet breath.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come,” he said, his voice lower now, stripped of anything that resembled formality. “And I understand why you didn’t return. The council has been occupying my time, as you know…”
“Did they cancel their command?” you asked, stepping closer before you could stop yourself, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. There was something fragile in the way the question left you that reached for hope despite everything. “You didn’t have to choose?”
He didn’t speak, nor he needed to. The answer settled in the quiet shift of his expression, in the way his gaze held yours without softening.
Your hand rose to your chest, pressing there, wishing you could steady the feeling before it broke entirely.
“So… then you chose someone.”
“I did,” he said.
There was no hesitation in it, no uncertainty, and that made it worse.
“But it’s not a matter of whether I chose,” he continued, something quieter threading through his speech. “It’s whether she chooses me too.”
You nodded slowly, though the movement felt distant, disconnected from the rest of you. Of course she would. Anyone would. He was the Fire Lord, so respected and powerful, and he was Zuko. Your Zuko.
You looked down at the grass beneath your feet, your thoughts tangling into something far less composed than you wanted them to be. Pride and longing pulled in opposite directions, each one demanding to be heard, to be chosen, to be acted upon before the moment slipped through your hands entirely.
You could say it.
You could end it there and put words to everything you had carried, everything you had refused to name, even if it meant losing him in the same breath.
Or you could stay silent. Walk away with dignity intact, even if it cost you more than you were willing to admit.
The decision hovered, ever so fragile, until something moved in your peripheral vision.
The box.
He lifted it between you, holding it out with a steadiness that contrasted the tension that had settled around you both.
You raised an eyebrow, more out of instinct than understanding, and took it from his hands, the weight of it grounding in a way nothing else had.
“What’s in there is yours,” he said, his gaze never leaving you. “Because you deserve it.”
A breath passed.
“And you can choose not to accept it.”
Curiosity moved through you before reason could stop it, your fingers lifting the lid of the box with a care that felt disproportionate to something so simple. The hinge gave without resistance, and what waited inside made your breath falter in a way you couldn’t quite control.
Your dress.
The one you had worn that night, the one that had carried you into that room, into him. The one you had left behind without a second thought, discarded against the stone floor of his bath in a moment that had felt too consuming to hold onto anything else.
Your fingertips brushed over the fabric, slow, almost reverent, the layered silk shifting beneath your touch like a quiet flame. The deep red caught the light even here, subdued by the dust of the ridge but no less alive, while the gold threading along the bodice traced familiar patterns beneath your fingers, subtle and precise, unmistakably Fire Nation in its design. It felt the same, but above all, it felt like that night.
“I should have returned it sooner,” Zuko said, his voice quieter now, closer than before, though you hadn’t noticed him step nearer. “But I didn’t know how to give it back without…” He exhaled softly. “Without it meaning more than it already does.”
You didn’t lift your gaze.
“I kept it,” he continued, and there was something unguarded in the admission that carried weight beyond the words themselves. “At first, because it was yours. And then… because it reminded me of everything I didn’t say when I had the chance.”
Your fingers stilled against the fabric.
“You’ve always been my friend,” he said, and the word landed gently, but it didn’t soften the impact. “My closest one. The person who stayed when I didn’t deserve it. The one who saw through every version of me I tried to hide behind.”
Something in your throat drew tight.
“I’ve made mistakes,” he went on, quieter now, his voice threading through the space between you. “More than I can count. And somehow, through all of them… you never stopped seeing me clearly. Even when I didn’t know how to see myself.”
Your grip on the edge of the box tightened.
“I thought that was enough,” he admitted. “That having you there, having you beside me in that way, was something I could hold onto without asking for more. But it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
You lifted your gaze, your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering in a way that felt unfamiliar and nothing like what you had braced yourself for.
He was closer than you expected.
Close enough that you could see a quiet undoing. The restraint he held so carefully began to fray at the edges, the steadiness of his mouth faltering, his breath unmeasured, his gaze no longer shielded. Whatever he had kept contained slipped free in the way his eyes lingered on yours without retreat, in the fragile openness that replaced his certainty, in the tenderness that seemed to rise despite him, bare and unprotected, with nowhere else left to go but toward you.
“I don’t want you like a best friend,” he said. “I never really did.”
He reached forward, setting the box between you on top of the grass before his hand moved to the fabric. He lifted the dress with care, the silk sliding through his fingers like it recognized the warmth of him, when a glint broke free from its folds.
It slipped loose with a hush, a soft, fleeting sound against the ground, so quiet it might have gone unnoticed, had it not caught the light.
Gold, warmed by the same tones that traced the dress. A ring with a stone set at its center that held its own quiet fire.
You drew your lower lip between your teeth without thinking, your eyes widening.
Zuko bent to retrieve it, and when he rose, he did not falter.
Not this time.
He stepped closer, the space between you giving way in slow, inevitable increments. The ring rested between his fingers, but it wasn’t what held your attention. It was the way his hand steadied when it neared you, how the slightest tremor gave way to resolve. The way his gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, like looking away was no longer something he could bear.
He stopped only when there was nowhere left to step without touching you.
“I spoke to the council,” Zuko said. “I agreed to their terms: to choose among the guests in the gathering, to entertain their expectations, to follow through with what they believed was best for the Fire Nation.” His gaze softened, recalling it all now from a distance that no longer held the same weight. “I thought I could endure it. That if I listened long enough, if I gave them what they wanted to hear, I could still make the decision my own in the end.”
You let out a breath that trembled despite yourself, your fingers still resting against the silk in the box. “That doesn’t sound like something you would agree to,” you murmured.
“It isn’t,” he admitted. "And I didn’t. Not entirely.” His eyes flickered with something that resembled quiet amusement, though it never strayed far from you. “My uncle had… opinions.”
That drew something from you before you could stop it: a soft, disbelieving breath that almost became a laugh. “Of course he did.”
“He insisted,” Zuko continued, and now the warmth settled more openly into his tone, “that if I was going to be forced into choosing, then I should at least have every option available to me.” He paused just long enough for the meaning to settle. “Even the ones the council didn’t think to include.”
“So, when he made you invite me...,” you said, the realization unfolding in pieces.
"It was without their knowledge. Which meant that when I agreed to their conditions…," his gaze held yours. “I already knew how I intended to challenge them.”
A small, incredulous breath left you. “You planned it.”
“I hoped,” he corrected gently.
You shook your head faintly, though the motion carried no real disagreement, only the overwhelming weight of shock settling into place. “That sounds exactly like something he suggest you to do.”
“It does,” Zuko said, and this time the hint of a smile reached his lips fully. “He was very pleased with himself.”
“I’m sure he was,” you replied, unable to stop the faint curve of your own mouth.
“I used their rules,” he said, far more intentional, “to make a choice they couldn’t argue with. And when they did, even if they were already trapped, I gave them arguments they couldn’t refuse. About loyalty. About trust. About someone who understands the balance we’re trying to build better than any noble name ever could. About you," he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. "I told them that if they were asking me to choose a future for this nation, then they would have to accept that I already knew who belonged in it.”
The ring remained in his hand.
You hadn’t stopped looking at it, not really. Even when your eyes lifted to meet his again, even when his voice held you there, you stayed aware of it.
“I spent days trying to say it the right way,” Zuko continued, his voice stripped of everything except truth. “Trying to deal with the guilt that came from tying you to something you might not even want, but also coming to terms with what I’d done and, let you decide instead.”
His thumb shifted slightly against the band.
“You chose me,” you said softly, the words barely more than breath, as if saying them too loudly might undo them.
“I did,” Zuko answered, no doubt left for you to question. “And I would do it again.”
Your chest tightened, something fragile and overwhelming unfolding all at once, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of the dress still resting in the box between you.
“But I meant it: I don’t want this to be something decided for you,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “Not by the council. Not by me. So... what do you think?"
For a moment, you didn’t answer.
Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the answer had been there for longer than you had allowed yourself to admit, waiting beneath every glance, every almost, every moment you had forced yourself to step back instead of forward.
Your hands found his before you could overthink it, fingers wrapping around his, warm against your palms, making everything else fall away. You felt the slight tension in him ease at the contact.
“I think that…” you began, your eyes never leaving his, “I don’t want you like a best friend either.”
His hand rose to your jaw, fingers finding their place beneath your ear, along the line of your throat, settling there with a steadiness that made your pulse turn restless against his touch. His thumb brushed once, slow, like he needed to feel you there before allowing himself anything more.
And then he closed the distance. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It lingered the second it began, his mouth finding yours with a care that made something in your chest give way all at once. There was no edge to it, no restraint left to hold it back. Your fingers tightened against him before you realized it, curling into the fabric at his sleeve. The other hand found his shoulder as you leaned into him, closing what little space still remained.
He didn’t hesitate at the contact. His hand shifted like he needed to keep you there, like letting you go had stopped being an option the moment you hadn’t stepped back.
The wind moved somewhere beyond you. Voices carried faintly in the distance. The world continued, unchanged, untouched. But none of it reached you. Not when he held you close enough that you could feel the rhythm of him, steady against you. Not when the warmth of his touch felt so deeply familiar it settled into you without resistance, yet new enough that every second of it stayed sharp, impossible to ignore, something your body was still learning even as it recognized it completely.
When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath still uneven, though his hands remained steady where they held you.
You gave him your hand.
His fingers guided the ring into place, the gold catching the light as it settled where it belonged.
“Well, that took long enough.”
Toph’s voice carried across the ridge like she had been waiting for exactly this moment.
You both turned to find the rest of the group not nearly as far away as they had pretended to be, clustered together in a way that made it very clear they had seen everything.
“I told you,” Sokka said, already striding toward you with far too much enthusiasm, “we could’ve skipped the emotional crisis and gone straight to this…”
He stopped right in front of you and then immediately pulled you into a hug.
“Oh my—wait—no—” he froze mid-embrace, pulling back just enough to look at you with exaggerated horror. “Is this… is this allowed? Should I not be doing this? Is this, like, a royal offense now?”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, the sound light and uncontrollable.
“I think you’re fine.”
“Are we sure?” he asked, lowering his voice like this was suddenly a very serious concern. “Because if I just violated some kind of royal boundary, I’d like to know now before guards appear out of nowhere.”
Aang stepped forward, grinning, entirely unbothered by any of it. “I’m still hugging her.”
And he did hug you, completely sincere.
Sokka pointed immediately. “See? Now if he gets arrested, I’m blaming Toph."
"What did I do?" she asked, hugging you after Aang.
"You didn't tell me not to hug her." he said, proceeding to pat Zuko's back in a congratulatory way. “Or to bow. Because I’m not bowing. I refuse. I draw the line at bowing.”
“You’ve never bowed in your life,” Katara said, stepping forward, though her smile softened the remark as she reached for your hands, squeezing them gently. Her gaze flickered to the ring, then back to your face. “I’m really happy for you,” she added. “For both of you.”
“I’m glad you all approve,” Zuko said, the faintest hint of humor threading through his voice as he glanced at them.
Toph huffed. “We don’t approve,” she said. “We tolerate. There’s a difference.”
“She means she’s happy,” Aang translated helpfully.
“I am not.”
“You sound happy,” Katara said.
“I sound correct.”
Sokka pointed between the two of you. “For the record, I’ve been emotionally invested in this for a long time, so I feel like I deserve partial credit.”
Zuko's thumbs brushed ightly against the fabric at your sides before he finally glanced up.
“At most,” he said, “you can take credit for… not making things worse.”
Toph snorted. “That’s generous.”
You laughed. “Very generous.”
Sokka looked between all of them, betrayed. “Wow. Okay. Noted. I’m surrounded by people who don’t appreciate emotional support. Alright,” Sokka said, clapping once, recovering his composure with visible effort. “So, celebration plan. I’m thinking food, obviously. Maybe something dramatic. Fireworks? Is that too on the nose?”
“It’s the Fire Nation,” Aang said. “It’s never too on the nose.”
“Perfect,” he nodded. “Then we’re doing it.”
Zuko exhaled softly beside you.
When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, not saying anything, and not really needing to.
For once, neither of you looked away.
♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind you, sealing out the world, the council, your friends, and the endless weight of the Fire Nation. For a single, suspended moment, you and Zuko stood facing each other at the threshold of his chamber, the same room that now felt entirely different.
Candlelight flickered across the walls, gold dancing over silk and shadow, over the familiar space that had once held distance and now held none at all. The bed stood at the center untouched, but neither of you moved toward it yet.
Zuko’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, and he was smiling- not the tight, controlled smile he normally wore, but almost giddy. His eyes roamed your face like he was memorizing every detail.
“We’re alone,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Finally.”
You didn’t answer with words. You rose on your toes and kissed him: deep, open-mouthed, hungry. He groaned into your mouth, his arms wrapping around you, crushing you against his chest. The kiss was messy, eager, all tongue and teeth and the shared taste of the celebratory tea you’d drunk earlier with his Uncle Iroh. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, squeezing as he pulled your hips flush against his.
You could feel him already hardening through the layers of silk. The evidence of his desire pressed against your belly, and you rocked into him deliberately, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.
“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was strained.
“No,” you breathed, nipping at his lower lip. “You forget I’ve waited too long.”
Your fingers found the tie of his formal robe, tugging it loose. The heavy red fabric fell open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, the lean muscle, the scattered scars. You pushed the robe off his shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. He stood before you, bare except for his loose trousers, the firelight painting his skin in amber and shadow.
You let your gaze travel down his body: the hard planes of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair disappearing below his waist, the prominent bulge straining against the silk of his trousers. Your mouth watered.
“Your turn,” he said, his fingers already working at the knot of your sash. He was less patient than he pretended; the fabric slid away quickly, and he pushed your robe aside, baring you to the warm air. His breath caught. “I’ve always known it, and I’ve seen you, but… spirits, you’re beautiful.”
His hands found your breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over your nipples. They stiffened under his touch, and you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him there.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand sliding down your stomach, between your legs. His fingers found you wet, slick, ready. He groaned against your skin.
“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Is that because we’re engaged, or because you’ve been thinking about this all day?”
“Both,” you admitted, your hips grinding against his hand. “I couldn’t stop imagining your mouth on me, like at breakfast, even when I was mad at you.”
He growled, low and possessive, and suddenly he was lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down on the silk sheets, the cool fabric a shock against your heated skin. He stood over you, his eyes dark with desire, his cock straining against his trousers.
“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice rough.
“Actually, I have an engagement night request,” you said, stopping him. “I want to taste you, Zuko.”
His eyes shone. With no further discussion, He tugged at his trousers, pushing them down his hips. His cock sprang free- long, thick, flushed a deep red at the tip, already leaking a bead of pre-cum. You reached for him, wrapping your hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and the velvety softness of his skin stretched over the hardness beneath. You stroked him slowly, watching his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitch.
Then you leaned forward, taking the head into your mouth.
Zuko groaned, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal, something you’d never heard before. You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting the salt of his arousal, then took him deeper, your lips sliding down his length. His hand found the back of your head without pushing, just resting there, his fingers trembling.
“That feels– yes,” he breathed. “just like that.”
You hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you pulled back, then plunged down again, establishing a rhythm. His taste was intoxicating, and the sounds he made- the broken moans, the whispered curses- only made you more eager. You took him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at his base.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Taking me like that…”
You looked up at him, your lips stretched around his cock, and the sight of his face all flushed, eyes half-lidded, and lips parted in pleasure made you moan around him. The vibration sent a shudder through his body. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him deeper.
He pulled back before he came, his chest heaving. “Not yet,” he panted.
He guided you back onto the bed, your head sinking into a pillow. He rose over you, his cock nudging at your entrance. He paused, hovering, his eyes meeting yours. “I couldn’t get tired of this view…”
“Me neither.”
He pushed in. The stretch was exquisite, a slow, burning fullness that made you gasp and arch. He filled you completely, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against yours, and you could feel him deep inside, pressing against that sensitive spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.
“You feel incredible,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “So tight. So perfect.”
Then he began to move in long, slow strokes that dragged against your walls, each thrust a deliberate, loving caress. He set a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling against yours. The angle was perfect with your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight a comforting pressure on top of you.
“Look at me,” he said, and you did. His eyes were burning, not with fire, but with emotion. “I want to see your face. I want to remember this forever.”
You reached up, cupping his scarred cheek, and he turned to press a kiss to your palm. His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.
He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and you shattered. Your orgasm crashed through you, a wave of heat and pleasure that clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper. He cried out your name as he followed, his release hot and pulsing, filling you completely. He kept thrusting through the aftershocks, slowing only when you both lay trembling and spent.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms with a quiet urgency, like even now he wasn’t willing to risk any distance between you. His face found its place in the curve of your neck, his breath warm, uneven at first, then slowly settling as it brushed against your skin. You could feel the rhythm of his heart through the space between you, so fast and insistent, it hadn’t yet caught up with the stillness that had begun to settle around you.
“I…” His voice faltered, softer than you’d ever heard it, the word catching somewhere deeper than his throat. “I love you.”
You smiled, the warmth of it softening through you before you even realized it, your fingers drifting over his chest in slow, absent patterns, tracing the rise and fall of his breath, the steadying of his heartbeat beneath your touch.
“I love you too, Zuko.”
For a while, neither of you spoke.
The candles burned lower, their light steady now instead of restless, the room no longer charged with urgency. His fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, slow and thoughtful, like he was memorizing the shape of you in this moment, in this place that now belonged to both of you.
“Fire Lady,” he murmured after a while, the title quieter than it had ever sounded, as if he was still letting it become something real.
You huffed a small laugh against his shoulder. “That sounds… incredibly official.”
“It is,” he said. “But there’s no one I would rather call that.”
Your hand found his again, lacing your fingers together between you, his thumb brushing over the ring now resting where it belonged.
“…Sokka hugged you before I did.”
You blinked.
“What?”
Zuko shifted enough for you to catch the expression on his face, very clearly not as unaffected as he was trying to seem.
“He called you Fire Lady first,” he added. “And then he hugged you.”
You stared at him.
“You’re jealous of Sokka?”
“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose. “I just think the order of events was… incorrect.”
You laughed, the sound warm and bright, echoing in the room. “You proposed to me, Zuko.”
“Yes,” he said immediately.
“And you kissed me.”
“Yes.”
“And then Sokka hugged me.”
He frowned slightly, as though reconsidering the timeline. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“It absolutely does!”
You shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Besides,” you murmured against him, “I think you’ve made your position very clear.”
That earned the smallest hint of a smile from him, the tension finally giving way.
“Good,” he said.
You settled back against him, your head resting just beneath his chin, his arms wrapping around you again without hesitation nor doubt.
Outside, the palace still existed, the council, the expectations, the future waiting to be faced.
But in there, none of it felt overwhelming anymore. Because this time, it wasn’t something he had to face alone.
And neither were you.
♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Note: What. A. Journey. This has been. Thank you so much for the overwhelming support on these series, I really appreciate every comment and interaction. I didn’t want to make this longer but damn I love the dynamic created so much!! Bet I will write about engaged reader and you can feel free to picture the lore of these two lol.
I’m planing an extra that can be read as a standalone as a thank you for the support! So I hope you liked this and I hope you like that when it comes out. Xx
pls tag me if u like this idea and end up making it<3
the gaang plus reader dressing up to sneak into a fancy party to retrieve important information/object.
how did they get in? with Toph’s seal of the flying boar ofc (nepo baby)
zuko and reader are in charge of sneaking into the basement of the mansion to retrieve said thing but zuko is distracted, you look fire as hell (get it haha)
you both get to the basement but omg of course there are guards!! you both look around to find a place to hide but it’s all pipes and walls, what do you do?
“kiss me,” you say and zuko thinks you’re out of your mind!
“what? i don’t think-”
“goddamnit zuko!” you crash your lips onto his, snatching his hands to put them on your waist before placing yours into his neck and hair.
YEP YOU’RE FULL BLOWN MAKING OUT
just in time, the guards find you, “Oi! What are you two doi- ugh!” the guards turn around after seeing what the two of you were doing, one mumbles a warning about how you shouldn’t be here and must get out after you two are done with your “business” before walking away.
what a clever fucking idea. masking your real intentions by making the guards think you’re just a couple looking for a private spot for a private moment, genius.
you feel proud in your trimphant problem solving skills and immediately get back to business but zuko here cannot function.
what the fuck?
reader just did that as an excuse to kiss zuko because he just looks so fucking good all dressed up like that and she had been crushing on him for forever. she would never say that tho.
and zuko out here freaking out during the kiss because WHATTT THEEEE FUCKKK IM MAKING OUT WITH THE GIRL I LIKEEE!!! i mean he been freaking out since u two were paired up by aang, u just look so pretty in your fancy dress!! he totally did not have unholy thoughts of what he’d do to you if only you had let him…
little does zuko know, you chose that dress with him in mind :)
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.
For any Makorra fan who needs to hear this... a friendly reminder that there was only supposed to be one Book of The Legend of Korra.
This had been confirmed by the creators in interviews once Book 1 ended.
Makorra was designed to be the endgame and that's why their relationship development from platonic friends to romance was a personal driving force for Korra's character arc. If the show had not been greenlit by Nickelodeon, that was going to be the conclusion they planned and intended.
adult Zuko, i’m on my knees for you. I need him on top of me, inside of me, in every hole, every fucking day and night, to pump me full of his seed and keep me pregnant our entire marriage.
A/N: made this due to cravings and the recent official art of firelord zuko.
—————————-
The bed room was thick with the scent of arousal, moans and whimpers filling up the room. You lay beneath him. Your breath unsteady.
“H-haah! Z-zuko!” you moan, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he slides his thick fingers into you. He started off slow then, he curled it into your g-spot.
You moan loudly, your hips lifted instinctively, chasing more. But zuko didn’t give in that easily..
He leaned forward until his mouth hovered you. Zuko watched your eyes flutter shut as he continues to thrust his fingers right into you,
“S-shit yeah, you like that?” zuko pants out. His fingers thrusting faster and deeper.
“Z-zuko..” You whimper out. You tried to answer, but all that came out of your mouth was his name.
Zuko smiles, he slows down his fingers, only to thrust in deep and fast again with deliberate precision, watching your body react.
You cry out, the pleasure too much to bare, he caught the noise in his mouth with a deep kiss, your tongues tangling together.
“Still so tight.” he growled against you, lips pulling back just enough to watch your face twist in pleasure. “Even after everything, you still clench around my fingers, like it’s the first time.”
Your hips jerked up, a desperate roll and he rewarded you with three fingers now stretching your insides.
You whimper, a moan ripped from your chest, your back arched off the bed.
Zuko slowed his pace, just enough to tease. Feeling your pussy flutter on his fingers.
“You’re gonna cum soon, yeah? Just from my fingers?” he murmured.
“Haah-!! F-fuck,, cumming!..” you yelp out. Your back arched
Zuko leaned down, his mouth brushed beside your ear
“Oh f-fuck.. come for me baby, i know you can..” zuko says with his voice rough.
You squirt, the wet liquid spray all over his fingers and the sheets. Your limbs trembling as zuko holds you steadily,
“I’ve got you..” he whispers. He grabs a towel to clean you up.
“Sleep well my love.” Zuko says as kisses you. You smile as you fall asleep.
I've reread your "Making Arrangements" recently... Again
I haven't even watched the peaky blinders that much but
That fic has me in a chokehold. It makes me not only have Thots but also ask Questions.
For instance, I canNOT stop thinking about how Tommy specified his intention to marry the reader. Like I GET it but also: it sounded like he knew about her? Why her? Not to mention the whole Jacob thing like hnnnnnnnsjsksabdbfkrnsbcjkfkdn
If you can, could you, please, reveal some behind the scene ideas/plot?
Please, literally any crumb from Tommy's POV would be greatly appreciated 🙏
Sorry this took so long, nonnie!
Set before Making Arrangements
“What about the sister?”
It was John’s question—half-slurred as he lowered his empty glass to the Garrison’s bartop. And for all of the half-cocked ideas thrown around in the last hour, that one actually gave Tommy pause. He stilled with his own glass half to his lips, head swiveling toward where the idea had caught Polly just as still.
“I thought the brother had mentioned a beau,” Polly shook her head.
“Recently?”
“It’s been some time.”
Tommy considered, fishing into his jacket pocket for a cigarette before nodding toward Scudboat: “Look into it.”
The man was hardly out the door before Polly was pushing herself up from a table, rounding closer to Tommy.
“What are you thinking?”
“Well unless you’re planning to marry that whelp of a brother,” Tommy quieted as he lit his cigarette, “We may as well try for the girl.”
“And who’s meant to be the lamb for that particular slaughter?”
“Always fancied myself the wolf, not the sheep.”
“Yourself?” Polly repeated, the laugh rough as it pushed out of her chest. “Thomas Shelby, a married man.”
“So it comes to us all.”
“A leopard cannot change its spots.”
Tommy considered this for a moment, eyeing the smoking tip of the cigarette as he absently thumbed the base.
“It’s not my spots I’m concerned with.”
“What’s the offer?”
“Their connections in America for our protection. Moss says they’ve had three facilities raided in the last month. Had to pick up and reestablish operations like thieves in the night. It’s slowing the spread of their legitimate and illegitimate publishing.” Tommy glanced toward Polly again. “It would cement the tie between our families. We guarantee their safety. They build us our bridge.”
“Hear she’s not bad to look at, either.”
The comment slipped from Arthur’s mouth, and John’s drunken giggle chased it.
“Shouldn’t make the wedding night too much of a hardship, eh?” John reached back to pat Tommy’s shoulder—but he floundered, missing his mark, and tumbling to the floor. Tommy’s mouth twitched with an involuntary smile as Arthur's laugh filled the pub, and John wobbled to stand.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely little snapshot of the wedding feast,” Polly drawled. She glanced toward Tommy one more time. “You’re certain you know what you’re doing?”
“Scudboat’ll run the answers down. I’ll speak with her. We’ll go from there.”
Polly’s lips twisted into a grim simple, head shaking once before she reached out, snagging the bottle from the bar and returning to her table. Tommy considered for a moment, rolling his cigarette between his fingers.
Easy to look at or not, this was the way through. He could see it now: lives spent cordially down the hall, ships in the night. United in public, their own people in private.
A leopard could not change its spots. But if push came to shove, Tommy imagined he could stand to be a married man.
Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.
Length: 7.9K
Notes: Hey look it's part two! This is the end of the fic!
No beta, we die like Billy Kimber
Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; mention of Reader's mother passing away, though it doesn't say how; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; possessive Tommy; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, unsafe sex
Summary: Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.
“You look impressed.” You noted it to him with pride. Thomas’ gaze swept around the hotel room as he pressed a tip into the bellboy’s hand. The young man dipped a courteous nod before hurrying out, shutting the suite door behind himself.
“You chose well,” Tommy conceded. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away to hide your proud smile. When Tommy had asked you to make arrangements for your trip, you’d been certain it was a test. It seemed like you’d passed, at least. The interior was opulent, with rich shades of red and tawny across the furnishings.
“There’s a balcony,” You nodded him toward it as you headed for the doors. You opened them, stepping out and peering over the hotel’s small courtyard. You heard Thomas come up behind you, felt his hand rest on your lower back as he set the other on the banister.
“It’ll be nice to be able to get some air without all of the street noise,” You added. Why were you so chatty now? It was hardly the first time you’d been alone with him.
Maybe it was the fact that Tommy had trusted you with this in the first place. Maybe it was how close he’d stuck to you on the car ride down, urging you to sit closer so that he could hear you properly over the rumbling of the road beneath his tires. Maybe it was the fact that, unless something else prevailed, you were going to share a bed with your husband for the first time that evening.
You glanced back toward Tommy and found him eyeing the courtyard below. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder and nodding inside.
“Do you like it?”
He turned to you, a small, patient smile on his lips.
“Yes,” He reassured, his thumb sweeping gently over your lower back. “I like it.”
You nodded, relieved, and turned back to the courtroom.
“What time is your meeting?”
“Six o’clock.”
“What time do you want me ready to go?”
“Five thirty should work well enough.”
You reached out, fishing into Tommy’s jacket for his timepiece. You ignored his heavy, curious look as you eyed the face. You had a couple of hours between now and then.
“Alright,” You shrugged, tucking the watch back where it belonged before you turned, heading into the room. It was another moment before Tommy followed you back inside.
“What’ll you wear?” He asked.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Where we’re going and who we’re meeting.” You crouched by your suitcase, casting Thomas a sidelong glance. “You still haven’t told me.”
He hummed, drifting closer and leaning against the bed frame.
“We're meeting Jay Miller.”
You frowned. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He waited patiently as you wracked your mind. Jay Miller. Jay Miller…
Your mind flashed with a face that you used to know well—a warm smile, a lopsided grin, the flutter of dark lashes as you took him between your lips—
You turned away from Thomas, your face going hot.
“I didn’t know that you knew Jacob,” You said crisply.
“It’s a young acquaintance. Lewis made introductions.”
And you would have to thank your brother for that—perhaps with a smack upside of his head. What the devil was he thinking, introducing your husband to your former beau?
“How fortuitous.” You straightened from your suitcase, looking down at its contents. Jay Miller. Lord above. You hadn’t seen the man in years. Maybe he wouldn’t remember you? Maybe he wouldn’t dare say a thing in front of Tommy. Maybe Tommy didn’t even know—
“That one.”
Your mind quieted as Tommy stepped up beside you, pointing into the suitcase. Your brow furrowed as you followed his direction, crouching down to pluck up a purple beaded dress.
“Why this one?” You asked, turning the fabric over in your hands.
“I’ve never seen you in it.”
“You haven’t seen me in most of the things I’ve packed,” You pointed out. Tommy hummed, pressing tightly up against your back, making your stomach turn somersaults.
“Then this’ll be a good place to start,” He insisted.
“And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“We're having dinner at the Granville Hotel."
You drew in a shaky breath as he stepped away again, reahing into his pocket for his cigarette case as he headed back toward the balcony. You'd wear your purple dress to the Granville Hotel. Fine. You looked down at the dress, smoothing the crepe satin with your fingers. You’d known that you would need to prepare yourself physically, but preparing yourself mentally was now an entirely different matter.
--
It was a boon that Jacob seemed as shocked to see you as you had been when Tommy had mentioned his name to you. For as long as it had been, Jacob seemed almost wholly unchanged. He stood from the restaurant table, straightening his jacket as you and Tommy grew closer.
Jacob’s dark hair was neatly coiffed; his warm, dark eyes lingered heavily on you as you approached him on Tommy’s arm. He was taller than Tommy, nearly 6’4, with broad shoulders, and biceps that bulged in such a way that they seemed to challenge the seams of his suit.
“Mr. Shelby,” Jacob turned his attention to Thomas, shaking his hand warmly.
“Mr. Miller,” They shook hands before Tommy gestured toward you, “I believe you know my wife.”
“I do,” Jacob nodded, “But I’m ashamed to say that I have not had the pleasure for quite some time.” He took hold of your extended hand, and while you’d expected a shake, he bowed over it, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. You fought to hold your expression steady as he leaned back, murmuring, “Mrs. Shelby.”
Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.
“Mr. Miller,” You answered softly. “It is nice to see you again.”
“And you.”
“Shall we sit?” Tommy asked.
“Please.” Jacob waved his hands to the seat on the other side of the table from him. Tommy pulled your chair out for you, nodding as you murmured your thanks. He leaned down, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance back with a small smile on your lips. You didn’t even care if it was for show. The outward affection that Tommy had given you in the last few weeks felt so nice. It had been so long since you’d felt anything like that, not since—Well. Not since Jacob, at least.
You let your eyes stray to the other side of the table where Jacob seemed to be perusing the wine menu. It was a relief. You weren’t sure what business the two were engaged in, and finding out right off the bat would have been a bit much for you to handle. You knew well enough now that Thomas liked to ease into his business rather than state it outright.
--
Dinner was delicious. Course upon course upon course of perfectly prepared, filling food, chased by sips of the best bottles of wine that the restaurant had to offer you. Jacob and Thomas spent the entire meal exchanging pleasantries, talking around business…Until you reached the wasteland between dessert and the bill.
“...Now,” Jay started, folding his arms on the table. “We ought to come to our reason for meeting.”
“In front of the lady?”
“She can handle it.”
Where there had been a tease in Tommy’s voice, there was a thread of annoyance in Jay’s, insistent and firm. You weren’t sure who you were more grateful for at that moment. Jay knew you in your place in your family’s structure; Tommy was still learning you, in a way. He shifted in his seat a touch beside you, curling his arm around the back of your seat.
“I know she can,” Tommy insisted. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s simply not polite.”
Polite. You were almost certain that that word had never once applied to Tommy Shelby. Jay gave Tommy a tight smile, giving a small nod.
“Well then,” He replied, tone clipped. “Let’s get to it. We have sixteen distribution centers, but we’d only be able to lend five to you and your operations.”
You glanced toward Tommy, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. He nodded slowly, tapping the ash from his cigarette into the tray on the table.
“When we last spoke,” He spoke matter-of-factly, his tone tipped with venom, “You told me that ten centers would be available.”
“Yes, well.” Jay’s gaze flitted toward you lightning-quick, then away again. “That was blue sky thinking on my part. The fact of the matter is, we have five. Take them or leave them.”
“I’ll leave them.”
Your gaze flitted over to Tommy, stunned. He’d leave the option of five, rather than pursue them and find five elsewhere?
“You’re kidding,” Jay scoffed before he nudged you beneath the table with his foot. “Talk some sense into your husband.”
You considered for a moment, taking in Tommy properly. It was stalwart—almost flat—but he quirked a brow. You took in his expression, his countenance…And you knew. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be enough for him. You shook your head a little, your gaze fixed on Tommy as you agreed:
“It’s ten or nothing, Jay,” You warned.
“Please,” Jay laughed. “You can’t have bought into his shit so quickly.”
Tommy’s expression flickered as he turned to meet Jay’s eye again, his eyes narrowing.
“You doubt my wife’s sense?” Tommy frowned, his voice daring Jay to disagree.
“Thomas,” You warned softly, but it was drowned out by Jay’s, “I’m questioning whether your wife still has a mind of her own.”
Tommy stood so quickly that it made you jolt, stunned at the sudden move. Jay followed suit, the glasses on the table rattling as his thighs hit the table on the way up. You reached out, hurriedly steadying the table as the motions drew the attention of the other diners. You looked up, gaze darting between the two of them.
“You question my wife’s intellect. That is a dangerous path to walk.”
“I knew her long before you, Shelby, and better, if I do say so.”
“Is that right.”
“Thomas,” You hissed, “Don’t.”
Your dread grew as Tommy’s gaze held steadfast and heavily on Jay’s.
“Tommy,” You reached up, catching hold of his hand and squeezing it, “Please. Not here.”
It was another long, harrowing moment before Tommy lowered himself to sit beside you again, his arm curling around the back of your chair. You watched him, your heart pounding as Jay reluctantly lowered himself to sit, casting an apologetic smile toward the maître d.
“So,” Tommy drawled, “If five is all you’ve to offer, we may as well conclude our business now.”
“I suppose we should,” Jay agreed, his gaze drifting toward you. Your eyes dropped to Tommy’s shoulder, holding steadily there, rather than look at Jay.
“I’ll take care of the check,” Jay offered.
“There’s no need,” Tommy insisted, drawing out his money clip and slapping a stack of bills on the table. “It’s on us.”
--
Your entire body was hot as you stormed into your hotel room, already reaching up to remove your earrings as you crossed the threshold.
“Was that necessary?” You spat, glancing back toward him.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
You bit your inner cheek, holding in a hysterical laugh. That was bullshit. You tossed the earrings onto the vanity, ignoring one that pinged off of the mirror and onto the floor. You reached back, struggling to tug your dress off. You huffed in irritation, simply holding your arms up. It was a moment before Tommy strolled over, drawing the dress off of your body. You turned away from you before he could get a proper look, snatching the dress, your pajamas, and robe before hurrying behind the room divider to change.
You drew off your slip and your stockings hurriedly, listening to Tommy mill around on the other side. You tugged on your pajamas and robe, tying the tie tightly before rounding the divider, your pretty purple dress balled up to shove into your suitcase.
“I did not appreciate that,” You announced primly, crouching beside the case for your toiletries.
“Appreciate what, precisely?”
“Being used as a bargaining chip.”
You straightened, settling at the vanity and taking up your cold cream to take your makeup off.
“...That’s not why I brought you.”
“Bullshit.” You met his eye in the mirror, uncaring of the fact that you likely looked ridiculous, smearing cream all over your face. “You wanted a position from the higher ground, and bringing me, you got it.”
You sprung up, striding over to the restroom and taking up a washcloth. You twisted on the tap, running it under the water and raising it to clean away the cold cream. You looked into the mirror, swiping away the remaining smudges of kohl beneath your eyes. You drew in a steadying breath, fighting to staunch your irritation. It felt good, but it just wasn’t enough.
You could hear the twisting of a bottle top, chased by the almost melodic sound of whiskey being poured into a glass. You straightened up, pitching the used washcloth into the basin of the sink and winding into the room. You plucked the glass of whiskey out of Tommy’s hands moments before he could take a sip, stomping over to the balcony and yanking the door open. You drew in a deep gulp as you leaned against the balcony, peering into the courtyard. The small winding path around it was lit with small lanterns, swaying in the evening breeze. You heard Tommy’s footsteps approaching after a few moments, but refused to look in his direction.
“What if you’re right?” He asked after a few moments.
“Then I’d say that you’d accomplished your mission.”
“Thank you for following my lead.”
“You should’ve taken the five.”
“Excuse me?”
“Better to have five to start with and look for five,” You argued, glancing up at him. “You could’ve negotiated a lower fee with Jay and an equal fee elsewhere.”
“You think my choice is foolish.”
“I think it’s short-sighted.”
Tommy’s brows rose and fell swiftly.
“You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.”
The telephone rang on the side table just inside the bedroom, and Tommy stepped away with a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As he went back inside. You turned to watch him, leaning against the balcony and watching him. He plucked the phone up, tucking it against his ear and answering, “Yes…Ah, Jay,” His gaze darted to yours. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this evening…Mm…Mhm…I see…”
Your brows rose, stomach roiling with nerves as you listened.
“Yes…Yes, ten centers will still do just fine,” Tommy insisted. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Dickhead.
“Of course… I understand…Thank you…Lovely doing business with you as well.”
You rested your chin on your hand as you heard Tommy lower the receiver back into the cradle. A moment later, he joined you on the balcony. You listened as he drew out a cigarette, tucked it between his lips, and lit a match. You caught the acrid scent of his cigarette just a few moments later.
“...Go on,” You finally sighed.
“‘Scuse me?”
“Gloat. Get it over with.”
“I think I’ll wait.”
--
“Tell me about him.”
Getting into bed with Thomas had been nerve-wracking. You’d been certain that he’d stay up and go out, but as you’d shut the light off and gotten under the covers, he’d joined you. There was a good amount of space between the two of you. You’d been staring at the ceiling, praying that sleep would come quickly, but you’d laid in silence until he’d asked that shocking question.
“What?” You frowned, letting your head loll to the side to look at him.
“Jacob Miller.”
You could feel him watching you in the room’s low light. You rolled onto your side to face him, tucking your hands under your head.
“I’m sure you did your research before doing business with him.”
“I did, but everything that I know is strictly professional. How did you meet him?”
You sighed softly, casting your mind back.
“It was at a party.”
“You brother’s?”
“No, he was still too young then. One of my Aunt Pearl’s friends threw it.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“How old was he?”
“Mm…Twenty I guess.”
“You liked him.”
“Not at first.”
“Why not?”
“He was just…I don’t know,” You shook your head. “He was too showy, flashy. Loud. But, he was already drunk by the time I got there. He’s far more calm when he doesn’t have a few in him.”
“Did you want to marry him?”
You considered for a moment, your thumb sweeping along the band of your wedding ring.
“I used to, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“...It didn’t feel right.”
“And our marriage did?”
Did. The word hit you low in the belly. Did? Not does? What made Tommy think that your stance on the marriage had changed already? Was it your irritation at his tactics earlier that evening? You were certainly justified in that upset, and you wouldn’t let him talk you down from that, at least.
“...It’s different,” You insisted. “Jacob and I were simply attracted to one another. No strings. You and I married for the sakes of our families.”
“Do you regret it?”
You were quiet for a moment, taking in Tommy’s features.
“...No,” You shook your head. “We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?”
Tommy nodded slowly, his foot gently brushing yours beneath the sheets.
“That we did.”
You nodded, relief melting over you.
“Have you ever been in love?” You hedged. It took a moment before Tommy admitted, “Yes.”
“Who was she?”
“There was a girl. Greta. We were young, and…She got very sick.”
“Only her?”
“...Another, named Grace. She worked at the Garrison.”
“Why her?”
“I thought we were cut from the same cloth.”
“...And now?”
Pain flashed across Tommy’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Now I know better.”
--
It was strange to wake up with someone else. You opened your eyes slowly, focusing on the rise-and-fall of your belly with the weight of Tommy’s arm atop it, the heat of his body pressed into your side. You tipped your head to look at him, taking him in properly in the early morning light. You raised your hand, gently smoothing back his sleep-mussed hair.
The night had yielded far more than you’d expected. You hadn’t expected Tommy to tell you about his first love, and you hadn’t expected him to ask about yours. You hoped that it would bring you closer, but with Tommy, you could never tell. Maybe it was leverage…But if it was, why would he have told you about Greta, or Grace? You peered up at the ceiling, noting to yourself that you ought to ask Peggy more about them when you got back to Birmingham.
You glanced toward Tommy as you felt him sigh, nuzzling your shoulder sleepily.
“...Morning,” You murmured. He hummed softly, turning his head from the window.
“I want coffee.”
“I’ll order room service.”
You rolled over, reaching for the phone. You sucked in a breath as Tommy’s arms curled around your middle, his body pressing up against your back. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to dial the front desk.
“...Hello?...Two coffees…” You requested, “And, um…” You drew the receiver away. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Toast for now.”
“And two orders of toast…Room 402…Thank you.” You hung up, settling back down in bed. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Should be ten for what we’re paying to stay here, ” Tommy sighed, brushing his cheek against your shoulder.
“Did you sleep alright?”
“Fine…You?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Tommy rolled away, stretching and yawning widely before he sat up. You stayed in bed, trying to remember the warmth of Tommy cuddling so close, certain that you wouldn’t feel it again any time soon. You’d forgotten how nice it was to be held. You watched him for a few moments, taking in the expanse of his pale back before you finally pushed yourself to sit up, lowering your gaze to the sheets as Tommy turned back toward you.
“...You alright?” He asked after a moment. You swallowed thickly, forcing a placid expression as you met his gaze again.
“Of course.”
For a moment, you thought that he may push back for an answer, but he let it go, nodding as he fished into his coat pocket for his cigarettes.
--
The news that the Blakes would be visiting Birmingham had reached Pearl first. She had mentioned it to Polly, who had told Tommy while Lewis was in earshot. Lewis had written and sent you a note, and you’d had the facts of it by noon.
By the time Tommy returned for the evening, you were completely occupied with the arrangements. He found you in the kitchen with notebooks and your planner spread out over the table.
“I see you’ve heard,” He commented.
“I have.”
“Is there dinner?”
“There's soup and bread in the oven.”
Tommy grunted, walking more deeply into the kitchen. You hardly registered the feeling of him resting his hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.
“...How was work?” You asked after a few moments.
“Fine.” You heard the oven door open, then close again. You tutted as he nudged some of your work aside, setting his plate down before he sat beside you. You could see Tommy rolling his sleeves up out of the corner of your eye, but you simply drew another notebook nearer to yourself, eyeing an itemized grocery list.
“What are you doing?” Tommy asked after a moment.
“Totaling the estimated costs. I want everything to be prepared before they arrive.”
“Mm…Have you eaten?”
You turned the page of your mother's old notebook, brow furrowing. Was it apple cake or apple pie that the Blakes preferred? Or apple strudel? You knew that there was apple involved—
You jolted as the notebook was yanked out from beneath your hands, tossed to the other side of the table, out of reach. You whirled around, eyes wide.
“Tommy!”
He pushed the plate toward you, turning it in your direction so that the stew was closer to you than it was to him. “Eat.”
“And what’s to stop me from just taking up the notebook up again?”
“I am.” Tommy snapped his fingers, pointing at the plate. “Eat.”
You huffed softly, taking up a piece of bread and reluctantly dipping it into the stew.
“...I made this for you,” You grumbled.
“What was it that the minister said when we were married? About the two being as one? Means we share.”
“How technical,” You grumbled through your mouthful. You glanced up as Tommy nudged a glass of wine closer to you. You took the glass up, taking a deep pull before passing it back. Lord above, you hadn’t even realized how hungry you were. It hit you all at once, your stomach grumbling as you swallowed. You didn’t dare look at Tommy, nervous that he’d heard it.
“How long have you been at this?” He asked, waggling a finger toward the mess on the table.
“I don’t know. A while.”
“Mm. An awful lot of uproar for the Blakes.”
You cast him a sidelong glance, brow raised. “The Blakes are one of the oldest families in our acquaintance. I haven’t seen them since I was a child, since—” Since before your mother had passed. You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze to the plate. “Anyway. I was just going over my mother’s old party notes. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Beyond offending them and losing our connections? Gee, Thomas, I can’t think of a thing,” You quipped dryly. He seemed to smile unwittingly.
“Less chatting, more chewing,” He counseled, nudging the bowl closer again.
--
“I trust you have everything in hand.”
Pearl’s tone indicated that she did not trust that you did, in fact, have everything in hand. Despite her prickly barb and lack of faith, you’d managed everything quite well. The Blakes would be staying in your guest room, which had been fully kitted out when you’d remodeled the house. You’d ordered in a chef and a sous chef for the next few days, giving you the freedom to deal with the house, and you’d hired on a maid permanently. Ethel was a quick, eager, high-spirited woman, who had practically been your shadow for the last few days.
You cast Pearl a sidelong glance, jaw clenched as she lazily swept her eyes across the neat sitting room. You could just make out the sound of the cook and his sous chef bustling about in the kitchen, Ethel in the living room, setting the table.
“Yes, I have,” You nodded. “And thank you for all of your help this week.”
Pearl snorted at your contemptuous tone, tapping the ashes from her cigarette into a tray on the sideboard.
“You’re the lady of the house. You have to learn how to manage these things for yourself sometime. It may as well be now.”
You sighed, turning to the house and straightening the cushions for what had to be the eightieth time that day.
“Did you see them when they went into the office?” You asked, glancing back toward Polly.
“Mm, briefly. Beulah looked like hell. Poor woman never did have the stomach for the crossing. They booked too late, couldn’t get a cabin close enough to the middle. She must've spent the last five full days chucking her guts up.”
“Pearl,” You scowled, disgusted.
“I”m simply saying, don’t be too offended if she doesn’t eat too much at dinner tonight.”
“Mm. How about the old man?”
“Oh, you know Chester. Strong as an ox. He’ll outlive us all.” Pearl was quiet for a moment before she added, “They brought Hugh.”
The news hit you like a freight train. You groaned loudly, giving your foot one petulant stomp before striding over to the door to the dining room. You drew in a deep breath, steadying yourself before you opened the door.
“Ethel.”
“Ma’am?”
“We’ll be ten for dinner tonight—Unless,” You glared over at your aunt, “You have any more surprises.”
“Not a one. You’re a dear, Ethel,” Pearl gave her a bright smile. You turned your own tight smile toward Ethel, nodding, “Ten.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s better this way,” Pearl insisted as you let the door swing closed. “You were saying that you hated a lopsided table. Hugh evens out numbers.”
“How kind of him,” You grumbled. “How old is he now?”
“Thirty.”
“Married?”
“Divorced.”
“Mm.”
“...Attractive.”
You arched a brow at Pearl’s comment. She watched you for a moment before she lowered her gaze to the smoldering end of her cigarette.
“Is your husband still seeing that woman?” She asked. The mention of Lizzie made your gut pang with bitterness, but you forced your face into an uninterested mask as you shrugged.
“I don’t know,” You admitted.
“Does he bring her around?”
“No, but he may go to her. However he handles that business, he doesn’t—...It isn’t in the house, at least.”
“Have you considered asking him?”
“I don’t care what he does.”
“It’s up to you to know. Especially for the course of this visit.”
You sighed softly. “Thomas will do what’s best for the business. He won’t jeopardize it for a roll in the hay.”
“You’re certain?”
“Trust me, aunt. If there is one thing that he cares for in this world, it’s that.”
--
Pearl’s assessments of your visitors had been correct—you could see that the second they walked through the door.
With a full head of greyed hair and a neatly trimmed handlebar mustache, standing at 6’2, Chester Blake had the same larger-than-life air that he’d possessed when you were young. He was a little thicker around the middle than he had been the last time you’d seen him, but the sands of time didn’t exactly flow north. He was aging, but he wore it well. Beulah, on the other hand, looked as if she’d spent the entire crossing on the cargo hold of the ship. Her hair and clothing were neatly styled, but her typically pinked fair skin looked sallow, and her expression was drawn. Her bright grey eyes were dull, and her smile seemed just a little wobbly as she took you in.
“My word,” She managed, “How much you’ve grown.”
“And you haven’t changed at all,” You smiled as you embraced her, “Either of you.”
“A lie, and one that your mother would’ve abhorred, rest her soul,” Chester patted your shoulder, “But I’m happy to hear it myself.”
You smiled, shaking your head.
“I think that my mother would’ve scolded me if I hadn’t said as such.”
Tommy skirted around Beulah, resting a hand on your hip and leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. You smiled, despite the fact that the show of affection was likely a show for your guests.
“We mustn’t all crowd in the doorway,” You insisted as Tommy helped Beulah out of her coat, passing it off to Ethel, “Can I get anyone a drink?”
“Have you got whiskey?” Chester asked as they followed you into the sitting room.
“Man after my own heart,” Tommy commented, walking over to the sideboard.
“And you, Beulah? Some tea, perhaps?” You suggested softly. She took your hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.
“I’d love nothing more.”
“Ginger?”
“You’re an angel.”
“Ethel,” You turned to your maid as she headed for the kitchen, “A ginger tea for Mrs. Blake, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
You guided Beulah to a seat before joining Tommy at the sideboard.
“Would you like one?” He murmured.
“Thank you, no. I think it’d be best if I kept my head for the evening. There’ll be wine with dinner, besides.”
“Mm.”
You glanced toward Beulah where she had closed her eyes, then looked toward Chester, where he was eyeing the tintype photographs of your parents, and of Lewis when he was young.
“...Where are the boys?” You asked after a moment.
“With Polly and Pearl, showing Hugh a good time at the Garrison.”
You groaned quietly in annoyance. That was just what you needed—the lot of them spilling in to dinner, absolutely smashed.
“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Tommy added before you could complain further.
“You’re certain?”
“They gave me their word.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line before you gave a short nod, murmuring, “Alright.” You could feel Tommy eyeing you for a moment before you felt his hand slide across your waist. You raised your eyes to his as he shifted just a little closer, his hip pressing to yours.
“The contract was signed this morning—everything from here on out is just pleasantries. Relax.”
You drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before you sighed, lowering your eyes to collar. You closed your eyes as Tommy leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You patted his hand softly before he drew away, taking up one of the glasses and turning back to your guests.
“Here you are, Chester.”
You glanced toward Beulah, grimacing as you saw her raise her hand to her mouth, resting it there, as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d be ill or not. You walked over to her, forgoing propriety as you crouched beside her.
“The tea should be ready in a moment. Would you like to go and lie down for a few minutes before dinner?”
She gave you a small, grateful smile.
“I’ll be alright, dear,” She insisted, patting your hand. “But could I ask you to get the tin of mints from my coat? They’re in the left pocket.”
“Of course.”
You straightened, heading for the coat closet. You’d only just retrieved the tin when the front door was flung open. You heard the clamoring of voices just a moment later, and you watched as Polly, Pearl, Lewis, Arthur, John, and an unfamiliar man piled in. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to help the slight, disapproving raise of your brow. Pearl caught sight of you first, and she cackled, pinching your cheek.
“Give up the sourpuss, pet, it’s only us.”
“I can see that, thank you.”
Ethel zipped into the hall, rushing to collect the coats as quickly as they were being shrugged off. You gave Lewis, Arthur, and John a peck on the cheek as they passed you, heading into the sitting room.
“I don’t get one?”
The man’s voice gave you pause, and you turned to get a better look at him.
Hugh Chester Blake had been a menace of a child when you were growing up—stealing your books, dipping the ends of your hair in ink, shoving you down into the dirt as he passed. Your gaze swept him speculatively. He had his mother’s eyes, his father’s thick, dark head of hair. You had remembered a lanky little twit, but he’d grown to be quite tall and quite broad.
“Hello, Hugh,” You greeted.
“That’s not a very warm welcome, is it.” He took a step closer, and you fought the urge to step back, swallowing thickly as he crowded into your space. Christ, where had Polly and Pearl gone? Play nice, just play nice. Pleasantries, you thought. Thomas had done the hard work, you couldn’t undo it by insulting the man—
“About time, Hugh,” You heard.
You could’ve cried with relief as Tommy joined you, curling a territorial arm around your waist.
“Mrs. Blake is looking for those mints, darling,” Tommy added. Darling, that was new—Your mind stalled at the endearment before you squeaked, “Oh, goodness! Excuse me.”
You hurried away from the crowded doorway, just catching on Tommy saying, “You boys took your sweet time.”
You crouched beside Mrs. Blake’s seat again, murmuring your apologies as you passed the tin over.
“It’s quite alright,” She insisted, “I know all about the hosting game—your attention is torn ten different directions.”
You smiled gratefully, giving her hand a squeeze as you straightened, glancing around. Everyone had drinks in hand…And Tommy and Hugh were still in the doorway. You frowned, recognizing the tight, irritated set of Tommy’s jaw. What could they possibly be discussing—?
“Dinner is nearly ready, Mrs. Shelby.” Ethel’s news snapped you out of your contemplation, and you nodded, smiling at her.
“I’ll start herding the cats, then. Thank you, Ethel.”
--
Dinner had gone off without a hitch. Every dish had been prepared perfectly—and the chef had been quick to heat broth for Beulah when she’d been wary of not being able to keep any of the rich meal down. You could feel yourself beginning to truly relax as you watched Pearl and Polly dance with John and Lewis. The sound of the record player, their chatter and laughter began to brighten up the typically drab, quiet calm of the sitting room.
“Room on your card for me?”
Hugh’s question made you clam up again, and your eyes darted to his palm. Pleasantries. You could manage one dance, couldn’t you? You gave him a small smile, resting your hand in his. You knew the moment that you did that it was a mistake. He tugged you far too harshly toward the others, causing you to nearly trip over your own feet. He rested his hand on your lower back, fingers splaying wide, nearly dipping lower than what was appropriate. Your hear ticked up in your chest as you took in the ruddiness in his cheeks.
Hugh was drunk.
You didn’t know how much he’d had at the Garrison, but he’d been pounding the wine back at dinner, nearly drinking an entire bottle alone, and hardly touching his food. Now, he jerkily steered you around the crowded space, his grasp on your hand so tight it was nearly painful. Where was Beulah? Maybe you could excuse yourself to check in on her—
“I’m cutting in.”
Your eyes darted gratefully to Tommy as he grasped Hugh’s jacket, forcing the man to stop.
“What?” Hugh asked, face reddening in irritation.
“I said,” Tommy stepped closer, “I’m cutting in. I want to dance with my wife, if you don’t mind.”
If you don’t mind. It was tactful, almost genius. It put the ball in Hugh’s court. The polite thing to do would be to acquiesce; if he didn’t, the phrasing and his refusal to let go would seem absolutely ridiculous. You felt Hugh glance between you and Tommy before he reluctantly passed you into Tommy’s hands.
“Thank you for the dance,” You added over your shoulder before Tommy steered you to the other side of the dance floor. You sighed softly, resting your forehead against Tommy’s shoulder. “Your timing was superb.”
Tommy hummed knowingly, swaying you slowly as Arthur switched the record over.
“Are you alright?” He asked, sweeping his thumb over the side of your hand.
“I am now,” You murmured, lifting your head to look at Tommy. He nodded, gaze sweeping your face. His nose brushed gently against yours, his eyes flitting to your lips, and lingering. You swiped your tongue along your lower lip, stomach fluttering as Tommy pressed his lips to yours. You felt the swaying slow, then stop as Tommy’s arm curled around your waist, drawing you into his chest. You gently lifted your hand from his shoulder, resting on his nape. You had barely kissed him on your wedding day. This was sweet in a way that you’d never known from Tommy—a way that you wanted to become more familiar with.
The hoots and whoops from Lewis, Arthur, and John snapped you from the tender embrace, and you turned your head from Tommy, embarrassedly pressing your face into his neck.
“Alright, pipe down,” Tommy grumbled. When you managed to draw yourself from your nervous hiding place, you found Polly and Pearl sharing a smile.
--
“…What are you doing in here?”
The question flew out of your mouth, coated in your surprise, and you could see the swell of Tommy’s amusement as he closed your bedroom door behind himself.
“Hugh is in my room,” He informed you. Oh—Lord above. You nodded a little. Of course. How hadn’t you thought of that?
“I see,” You muttered. Tommy hummed, pushing off from the door and walking deeper inside. You watched him take in the furnishings, his gaze sweeping the armchair and bookshelf, the small reading table, the nightstand…And the bed. You raised your hand, scrubbing at the back of your neck.
It was going to be alright, you told yourself. You’d slept with Tommy—you’d been asleep with Tommy—before, just a few weeks ago. That had been a comfortable enough experience, so…So this would be more than alright. You were certain of it.
“I’ll just,” You gestured toward the divider in the corner of the room, “I’ll go change.” You skirted around it before Tommy could argue, or offer to be the one to change behind it. You plucked up your pajamas and stepped behind the divider, scrubbing your hands over your heated face once you were out of his line of vision. How did this man still make you so nervous?
“...It was a lovely evening.” Tommy’s insistence floated over the divider to you, prompting you to snap into action.
“Yes, it was,” You answered, words slightly muffled as you drew your dress up and over your head. You hung it over the silk folding screen, reaching for the fastenings on your brassiere and corset. “I’ll have to give the cook an excellent recommendation. Dinner was superb.”
“Yes.”
You drew off your thigh-highs, hanging them on the screen by your dress. You pulled on your nightdress, smoothing your hands over the cool, sky-blue fabric before putting on the matching robe.
“…May I come out?” You asked, damning your nerves.
“Of course.”
You stepped around the screen, surprised to find Tommy in bed already. He had the manuscript that had been on your bedside table in hand.
“You’re making progress,” He commented, flipping through a few pages, skimming a few of your corrections and notes.
“I was. Things got a little…Held up with the Blake’s visit,” You admitted. You’d hardly touched the manuscript in the last couple of weeks. You walked over to the basin, trying to ignore the feeling of Tommy’s gaze following you.
“…Is that new?” He asked.
“Hm?” You looked at them, finding his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. The interest in his gaze warmed you, and you hurriedly looked away again as his eyes swept upward. “Oh, the—This? No.”
“Had it long?”
“A few months.” It was another outfit that you’d gotten for your honeymoon months ago—one that Tommy would never had had a reason to see before.
“Will you be reading before bed?” Tommy asked.
“I think not. It’s been a long day.”
The stress was beginning to drain from your system, making you feel the full weight of your fatigue. You were almost certain that you’d fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You washed your face quickly, listening to Tommy turn the pages of the manuscript every few moments. When you finished, you dried your hands and turned back to the bed.
“Would you like to leave that light on?” You asked, nodding toward the lamp on the bedside table as you shrugged your robe off, hanging it up on the bed post.
“I can do without it, unless you’d like it on.”
“No! I’m alright,” You chirped as you climbed into bed, tugging the covers up. Tommy set the manuscript aside, shutting the light off before he settled down in bed beside you. You could feel his legs brush against yours as you the two of you laid on your sides facing one another.
“…Hugh’s a live one, isn’t he,” Tommy commented.
“He hasn’t been told no much before.”
“That became quite clear.”
You shivered at the thread of steel in Tommy’s tone. You reached out, tracing a finger gently along the back of his hand.
“Thank you again,” You added, “For stepping in when you did.”
“I told you,” Tommy turned his hand over beneath yours. “If I ever find out another man touched you, I’ll give you his hands.”
You huffed a soft laugh through your nose.
“May put a bit of a damper on your contract with his father.”
“Though they’d make an excellent trophy above the mantle.”
“That’s vile,” You giggled, smile widening as Tommy’s hand wrapped around yours. You were quiet for a few moments, reveling in the heat of his palm against yours. “…I don’t suppose I’m afforded the same opportunity?” You added.
“What do you mean?”
“Whose hands would I get to take as a trophy?”
Tommy met the statement with silence, and it made you want to sink into the bed. You’d been joking—
“There’s been no one,” He finally said. The admission made your heart stutter in your chest.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s been no one,” He repeated.
“But…Lizzie—”
“Not for months.”
Months. When had it stopped? And—
“Why?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He pressed another to your forearm, then shifted closer, lips brushing against your shoulder. He turned his head, and your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Tommy—” You breathed, but you were unable to get another word out as his lips covered yours. You sighed against his lips, raising your other hand to smooth over the close crop of his undercut. He let go of your hand just long enough to grasp your nightdress, using his hold on the fabric to draw you closer, then steer himself up over you. You let your thighs splay as he slotted between them, pressing his bare chest against you, hips flush and grinding against yours. His kisses trailed lower, hands grasping covetously at the fabric covering your chest. He gave the lace a yank, and you hissed softly as you heard it rip.
“Tommy—Oh,” Your mouth fell open as he drew one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, “Damnit—I liked this nightdress.”
Tommy lifted his head, lips brushing your chin. “I’ll get you others,” He grumbled against you, “I’ll buy you a hundred more tomorrow.” His hand slipped between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your pussy. You tipped your hips up into his touch pleadingly, lowering your chin and finding his lips with yours.
“I want you bare,” He murmured against your lips.
“Are you going to fuck me?”
“No.”
The answer made you go still, embarrassment and nerves flipping your stomach. Tommy took your face in his hands, holding your gaze steadily with his.
“I’m going to make love to my wife.”
--
His palm pressed heavily over your mouth, muffling your moans as his cock stretched your needy core. You pressed your head back into the pillows, curling your arms around his shoulders, and your legs around the backs of his.
“Sssh,” He murmured, the push of the hush brushing against your ear. “We don’t want the Blakes hearing, do we?”
You managed to shake your head a little, blinking up at Tommy as you panted broadly against his palm. Your cunt throbbed around his cock as he fully sheathed himself in you. You reached up, tugging Tommy’s hand away and catching his lips in a kiss. His fingers intertwined with yours, raising your joined hands to rest on the pillow beside you. He rolled his hips gently, then again as you whimpered, swirling his tongue with yours. Tommy fucked you with slow, even strokes, trading slow kisses as you moaned and panted into one another’s mouths.
Tommy broke your kiss, pressing his face into your neck as his thrusts became harder. You gasped, sinking your nails into his shoulders as you let your eyes slide closed. The bed was beginning to creak with his movements, the slapping of your hips slightly muffled beneath the sheets. You felt the familiar curling sensation beneath your waist, and you slid a hand down, grasping Tommy’s behind and using the grip to urge him on. He drew back just enough to get a good look at you, his eyes bright in the dim room. You sucked in a stunned breath as he reached between your legs, fingers teasing your clit as his hips pounded yours more roughly.
Your eyes widened as the headboard whacked against the wall behind you.
“Tommy,” You chastised, “Hugh will hear—”
“Let him,” Tommy spat, “Let him hear how I take care of my wife.”
You bit your lip to quiet your moans, grasping his wrist and stilling it as his touch tipped you over the edge. Your hips bounded up against his, chased by the harsh slamming of his hips, and the heat of him spilling into you. The scrape and squeak of the bed quieted as Tommy braced himself over you, looking down at your sweat-sheened body. He leaned down, brushing his lips over your breasts, then up, over your neck. You closed your eyes, curling your arm around his shoulder and resting your hand on the nape of his neck. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the pounding of his heart against yours. You turned your head, nuzzling his hair and pressing a kiss to his head.
“…Think that dresser has enough room for my things, too?” He mumbled. You grinned, tightening your grip on him as his hand tenderly smoothed along your thigh.
I’m still pissed Tommy ended up with Grace after everything she did. Like you’d have to be a special kind of asshole to get a man arrested as he’s visiting his newborn baby. And then to put the entire Shelby family in danger? Grace was garbage, and very committed to her job.
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