but i agree/just like it/get inspiration from it and i follow many many many people to remember the blogs i was curious in so i just try to go though as many posts as possible in the time i have available to do stuff on tumblr
and i do (now/recently look to) read rules n such for such things and i am trying my best to understand y’alls perspective for them.
so again. i am sorry for spam liking/reblogging.
i wish whoever reads this, a good rest of your day :)
- i started using tumblr in middle school (2015-16?) bc of a friend, and now here i am a young adult. still on here.
- i started as ‘aph-tomato-mafia’ ..ugh. i rebranded and the blog is now just a personal/casual one, mainly for fandoms i’m in and occasional important things
- i don’t reblog/post nsfw stuff, but i do sometimes reblog suggestive stuff, so be wary if you don’t want to see those kinds of posts
- i don’t usually tag stuff, i know i should, i occasionally do, just not often
- it’s not my real name, but y’all can call me Rie
summary: zuko's straight-forwardness in appreciating the attractive qualities of the lone stranger saved by aang has you curious on whether you could get him to spill on what he thinks of you. (no major movie spoilers)
"He's very attractive." Zuko admits, eyes unblinking as he stares at the unconscious stranger.
The entire team whips their heads to stare at Zuko in unconcealed shock.
"What?" Zuko mutters, gaze lingering on the surprised expressions casted onto him, before eventually landing on yours. "He is. It's all in the bone structure."
You blink, unable to process his straight-forward words that landed on you like a gut punch. You've never considered it, the fact that Zuko also found others attractive.
It seems like a completely, silly notion now that the thought has verbalised itself in your mind. Of course Zuko would notice if others were considered attractive. Maybe it just never occurred to you in all your years of knowing him—of also finding him—
You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look away from his prying gaze, confusion alight in his eyes from your taken-aback expression.
If he's unconsciously considered the attractiveness of this stranger... has he ever—no, this should not be your priority. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you, it's not like it would change a thing. He's practically admitted it non-verbally through that monotonous admission of his, that a person's looks is assessed by him in a completely, impersonal standpoint.
Bone structure? You shouldn't be curious. Knowing Zuko, he might accidentally insult your structure if you asked.
The curiosity does not disappear. In fact, it digs deeper and deeper into the crevices of your mind—subconsciously affecting your attitude around Zuko.
It doesn't help that it's painfully obvious that he's noticed your strange behaviour ever since his comment. Once, when his hand had come up to your shoulder to alert you that everyone was boarding the ship—and your entire body jumped in response. Again, when you completely blanked out when he asked if you would like some firecracker buns.
It's not like you wanted to hyper-focus on his observation on purpose. It's just that after years of knowing him and pushing down that sub-concious attraction—of not allowing yourself to even see him as anything more than the Zuko you know, the rebound impact of all your resurfacing emotions combined with his lingering presence is far too much.
Zuko isn't the type to beat around the bush either, one of the rare habits his uncle hasn't passed onto him. In a moment of needed reprieve, your attempt at regaining your composure fails spectacularly when you find yourself in a stand-still, cornered in the back of the ship—one firecracker bun in his hand as an offering.
"Have I said something to make you uncomfortable?"
Zuko's gaze is akin to a puppy's, wide-eyed and brows furrowed. Afraid that he's done something wrong, overlooked the choice of his words once again and destroyed the atmosphere without realising.
Straight to the point as ever, you'd appreciate it more if he had given you a few more minutes to come up with a reasonable excuse. Something more plausible than 'Do you find me attractive?', a lingering question that should've remained buried in the soil that you departed from nearly an hour ago.
"Not exactly." Taking the firecracker bun from his hand, the crumbs coat your fingers. You needed something to muffle your words, anything to distract you. It's easier to focus on the lingering spice that melts into your tongue, rather than his unblinking stare.
"So—I did say something." His mouth parts, a slight tilt downward in the corner of his lip. "Or I've made you uncomfortable."
There was no winning with him. Swallowing your last bite, you brush the crumbs against your sleeve, the slouch of your posture a key sign of surrender, your invisible white flag waving at the sight of his increasingly dubious expression.
"The first one." You admit with a sigh. "Earlier—"
He leans in subtly, a habit he does when he's listening attentively, and the luscious wave of his bangs brushes against your knuckles. His amber eyes pierce through you, and the words practically die off your tongue.
Why is he looking at you like that?
It isn't fair that he has such an effect on you. You still remember the old days, when he had a worser temper instead of the softened expression that lingers warmly on you. Plus, that horrible haircut, a singular ponytail with the rest of his hair shaved off forever engrained in your mind. Even recalling the image doesn't help calm your thundering heartbeat when the Zuko in front of you is so—overwhelming.
"You were saying?" He prods gently.
You swallow, averting your gaze. "When you mentioned... about attractiveness. Was that like—a spur of the moment kind of thing, or do you have a first impression for everyone you meet?"
His brows furrow for a moment, before recognition lights his golden gaze. "Ah—that."
"Right, that." You feel the seat warming beneath you in your embarrassment, a hallucination of senses in your sudden need to escape his assessing gaze. He barely even remembers his comment, and here you are, still obsessively prying over it.
"I was only answering Toph's question." He states. "No one was stating the obvious."
"The obvious." You muse. "Do you assess the attractiveness of everyone you meet?"
"I suppose it depends." He mutters, hand rubbing over his chin in consideration. "If it was during a battle, I wouldn't be prioritising on considering the opponent's appearance. As compared to someone knocked out on the ground, it gives me plenty of time."
You barely resist a snort. Only he could treat a topic like a person's attractiveness like one of his battle strategies. "I suppose you didn't have time during our first meeting then."
As soon as the words leave your mouth, both you and Zuko freeze. Your lips clamp shut, an immediate wince shuddering through your frame. Cat's out of the bag, you suppose.
"Never mind." You wave it off, your own laugh echoing much too loudly through your ears. "It wasn't like I was wondering—well, maybe I was. You just sprung it out of nowhere earlier, and I got... curious. You don't have to answer—"
"I did." He cuts you off unceremoniously.
You blink, his vague words echoing in the thin distance between the two of you. "What?"
He swallows, and for once, he's the one flustered in this conversation. "I did notice, during our first meeting."
No way. Your first meeting with Zuko was anything but pretty. You remember being covered in sweat, grime, and ashes coating your clothes as he shot flames at you from his palms. The twisted grimace on his face when you had him writhing under your grip, as he loudly declared his revenge on you, rupturing your eardrums with all his yelling.
"You mean—" You barely resist a grin stretching on your lips. "—when I pinned you down on your airship, and you were spitting death threats into my ear."
"Yes, that." His long locks cover his ears now, but you can bet the rims are reddened from the reminder. "You were formidable."
Formidable. No, that wasn't enough. His sudden focus on the floorboards of his ship made it obvious that he was simplifying his observation.
"I was gaining the winning hand." You state out-right, disbelief coating your tone. "And you had time to notice?"
A restrained sigh escapes Zuko's gritted teeth, already regretting his slip of tongue.
"What of the angle? Does the Fire Lord recall my bone structure during our first battle too, when I pinned you to the floor?" You tease.
He scoffs in a light-hearted manner, shoulder lightly bumping into yours. "It was the first time anyone had pinned me down. I wasn't exactly given another view to look at."
"Was the view bad then?" You prod.
"Not at all." He answers absentmindedly—quickly without hesitation.
Your lips part, speechless. Zuko immediately separates his shoulder from yours, a bashful expression overtaking his features.
"Objectively." He states hurriedly, waving his arms. "I was expecting to find the Avatar at the time, not... you."
The way he says it, the almost breathless note that leaves his lips. You devour it hungrily, now being the one to lean in, prying.
"And how did you find me, Zuko?" You ask earnestly.
He huffs in defeat. His softened gaze finally meets yours again, his eyes roaming over your features, ones that he's familiarised with for years, and yet... it still takes the breath out of him. "...You were the most beautiful person I've ever sparred with."
Oh... wow. You didn't expect that.
"You were threatening to kill me." You recall in disbelief.
"I was multi-tasking." He mutters, ashamed.
Your intended snort escalates into a cackle, unable to contain yourself. "I would have never guessed that from the way you glared at me. So full of shame—and destroyed pride."
"What about you?" He asks in a hurry, though his tone drops towards the end in hesitation—hinting his regret in the wrong change in topic. He grimaces, gaze dropping to his tightened fists over his lap. "...Did you find my scar hideous?"
Surprise colours your features.
Immediately shaking your head, you're at a loss for words on how to convey just how off-course he was on his guess. How could you ever find Zuko hideous? Your heart barely survived your visits to the Fire Nation, not when their own Fire Lord always insisted on attending to your presence personally, even when it arose suspicion of your shared bond with him, to have him so easily distracted when you arrived on his lands.
Even now, he's overwhelming your vision. Healthy muscles that are barely hidden under his clothes, or the hair he's refused to cut ever since his youth that now flows lusciously down his broad back. His amber eyes that glint golden when the sun reflects his irises, and even the conjured image of the way his arms move when he's fire-bending.
He's— "Beautiful."
By the time you realise your second slip of the tongue, Zuko has already blinked once, caught off-guard.
You purse your lips, finding this conversation to be as riveting as it is a weaponised self-attack. "Objectively speaking. You're attractive, Zuko."
"Objectively." He repeats slowly, amused that you're using his own deflecting choice of words.
"Fine, like really attractive." You deadpan. "It's annoying, because I'm supposed to be focused on the mission, and you're just... standing there."
It was the truth. You couldn't be the only one who noticed it. His subtle change in demeanour over the years, how he carried himself into a room now instead of randomly announcing his arrival at the worst timings. Even Sokka noticed.
He snorts, and the sound deflates the tension in your chest. "Funny, I should be saying that about you."
You gasp, expression aghast. "You're joking."
"It is not honourable to lie." He shrugs. "You've always been the most magnetic in my eyes. I can never find myself looking away from you."
You grow quiet, the genuine sincerity in his words leaving you defenseless. Have you been blind all along? Is that why he always sent letters—asking you to visit his nation for purposes other than meetings? Or why he sought for your company constantly during this entire trip, despite it being the first time the entire set of Team Avatar being together in months?
You had been too focused on what was comfortable and familiar, to teasing and prodding, that you never considered this.
"For the record." You whisper, leaning in to truly look at him. "I never found your scar hideous. You were always beautiful to me, Zuko."
He swallows, something intense flickering in his gaze—but too fleeting for you to catch onto it. Maybe it had always been there, when his eyes linger on your form when he accompanied you in his palace gardens, or even back then, when he was a banished prince who sought for you, even with a grimace on his face.
"That haircut when we first met, though?" Your smile breaks out into a toothy grin. "Absolutely hideous."
The softness in his gaze falters, before a groan rumbles past his throat. "Will you ever let that one go?"
"Never."
He lets out a low breath, drained of his energy. "I admitted to finding you attractive, and this is my repayment?"
"Who's finding who attractive?"
Sokka's voice strikes a jump in your shoulders, and Zuko's in an impressive halt, frozen completely after being caught red-handed.
"Ah, between the two of you—" Sokka whistles. "I was wondering who was going to break first. Congrats, love-birds!"
"We're not—" Your voice clashes with Zuko's. "This isn't—"
You sneak a glance to Zuko, and his hand is already covering half of his face, his embarrassment shielded by the shadow of his large palm.
Sokka's confused gaze switches between the two of you, blinking slowly.
"Ah, couple years too early?" Sokka shrugs, before clicking his tongue. "That's rough. I'll check back in with you guys in another time." Making his way back towards the front, he shouts once more to prove his point. "Just don't let me catch you guys making out or anything, I'll need to poke out my eyes for that one!"
"...We better restrain him before he starts blasting it as news to everyone." You groan.
"Agreed." He mutters.
Right as you made your move to leave, Zuko's hand grips yours—stopping you.
You lift your head, meeting his gaze. "Yeah?"
His Adam's apple bobs up and down, consideration clear in his expression before he decisively leans in. His voice is a warm hush, soft and intimate when he whispers. "For the record." Your own words echo back to your ears in the low hush of his voice. "I wasn't only referring to our first meeting when I said that you're beautiful."
His smile quirks up into something tender, a secret expression reserved only for you. ...At this rate, your curiousity was really going to be the death of you.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <333
a/n: i need to write more firelord zuko stat. he looks so good and still so awkward my childhood crush has been reignited.
zuko bringing his tiny baby to council meetings, cradling her carefully in the crook of his arm like she’s the most precious treasure in the fire nation.
she keeps cooing and gurgling happily the whole time, little hands waving in the air. every few minutes she gets louder and zuko gently pats her round belly with two fingers, leaning down to murmur in the softest voice, “not now, my little valley dove… daddy’s trying to work.”
the baby just kicks her chubby legs harder and lets out the cutest squeal, completely unbothered.
and the entire council?
they’re absolutely melting. grown generals and advisors who usually look stern and serious are now fighting back smiles, exchanging soft glances, completely enchanted by their fire lord and his happy little daughter.
zuko keeps trying to stay composed and regal, but the tiny smile that keeps tugging at his lips gives him away completely.
The first sign that something was wrong was the sudden, unnatural silence in the eastern administrative wing.
For three days, the palace had been vibrating with the constant scrape of pens, the shuffle of parchment, the low murmur of ministers, and the occasional sound of Zuko’s voice cutting through it all like a blade. Everyone had grown used to seeing the Fire Lord disappear behind stacks of paperwork and emerge several hours later with ink on his fingers and a crease between his brows.
So when he was not there one morning, the entire palace began to panic.
The first minister arrived at the council chamber with a bundle of documents and immediately stopped short.
The Fire Lord’s chair was empty.
The second minister arrived, saw the same thing, and looked personally affronted by it.
“The Fire Lord is late,” he said.
The steward beside him swallowed. “He is not late, sir.”
“Then where is he?”
No one answered.
That was how the panic spread.
By midday, the rumors had become dramatic enough to cause actual distress. Some said the Fire Lord had been called away for an emergency. Others claimed he was already in the war room. One particularly nervous official insisted that Zuko had vanished because of a diplomatic crisis. By the time the ministers began checking the throne room, the library, the training grounds, and even the kitchens, half the palace was convinced the nation had lost its ruler.
It was only you, standing in the garden with your arms folded and a very deliberate smile, who seemed entirely unconcerned.
Zuko was beside you, wearing simple robes instead of formal court wear, one hand holding a ceramic cup of tea, the other shoved into his sleeve as if he were still not entirely convinced this was legal.
He looked suspiciously relaxed.
That, more than anything, made the servants nervous.
“Are they still looking for me?” he asked.
You glanced toward the hall where a pair of frantic aides had just passed. “Yes.”
He exhaled. “I knew this was a mistake.”
You turned to look at him. “A mistake?”
“This.”
He gestured vaguely at himself, at the garden, at the tea, at the fact that he was standing in sunlight at a time of day that would normally be spent at a desk arguing with men twice his age.
“You look deeply threatened by peace,” you said.
“I am threatened by the amount of paperwork waiting for me.”
“And I am threatened by the fact that you think one day away will destroy the kingdom.”
“It might.”
You gave him a flat look. “Zuko.”
He looked back at you, defenseless in the way only a husband could be when he was clearly losing an argument he had not even wanted to have in the first place.
You stepped closer and fixed the collar of his robe.
“You have been working for sixteen days straight,” you said. “You slept in your office twice.”
“I did not sleep there.”
“You did.”
“I rested.”
“You drooled on a report.”
His face transformed with immediate offense. “I absolutely did not.”
“You did.”
“That is a vicious lie.”
“It is an affectionate truth.”
He looked at you for a long moment and then sighed, the sound carrying all the exhaustion of a man who had been outmaneuvered by his own wife and had no one to blame but himself.
“I hate when you plan things together with the servants.”
“I do not plan with them,” you said. “They simply love me more.”
“That is not reassuring.”
You smiled and lifted your tea cup. “Good.”
He stared at you.
Then, because he was still Zuko even in his most resigned state, he muttered, “You are enjoying this far too much.”
You took a sip of tea. “A little.”
He narrowed his eyes, but the irritation in them was too tired to survive for long. “Where are you taking me?”
“Outside the palace.”
He blinked. “Outside?”
“Yes.”
He actually looked alarmed by the idea. “Why?”
“Because you need air that does not smell like incense and anxiety.”
“I can smell no such thing.”
“That is because you have stopped noticing it.”
He started to object, then stopped himself when you reached for his hand.
He always stills a little when you do that.
Not because he did not want it. Because he wanted it too much and still, after all these years, treated your touch like something both precious and unfairly easy to lose.
You squeezed his fingers once. “Just one day.”
He looked at you. “The ministers will riot.”
“Let them.”
“They will come looking for me.”
“Then they will learn how difficult it is to speak to a Fire Lady who is also very stubborn.”
That almost made him smile.
Almost.
Instead, he looked away toward the garden path and said, “You really will not let me work.”
“No.”
“I could sign just one stack.”
“No.”
“One letter?”
“No.”
“Y/N.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “No.”
He closed his eyes for a beat. When he opened them again, the fight had gone mostly out of him.
“All right,” he said at last.
You lifted a brow. “That sounded suspiciously easy.”
“Do not mistake surrender for agreement.”
You laughed.
That was how you got him out of the palace.
Not by force, exactly. By quiet persistence and the simple fact that Zuko loved you enough to follow when you said he needed to rest, even when every instinct in him screamed that duty came first.
By the time the ministers discovered the Fire Lord was gone, you were already halfway into the lower city with him, both of you dressed plainly enough that no one gave you more than a passing glance. The market had just begun to swell with people, vendors calling out prices, children darting between stalls, the smell of food and dust and river air filling the streets.
Zuko paused beside a basket of oranges and looked around as though he had forgotten what freedom looked like.
One merchant smiled and asked if he wanted to try a sample.
He nearly said no out of reflex, then caught your expression and stopped himself.
You took an orange, handed it to him, and raised your brows.
He peeled it with an expression that suggested he was still not entirely convinced this was a valid use of daylight.
Then he took a bite.
The look on his face changed.
Not dramatically. Not in some theatrical burst of wonder. Just enough that you saw it,the small release of tension, the quiet surprise of someone remembering that life could be simple and good and sweet without demanding anything in return.
You watched him eat the rest of the orange with the kind of satisfaction that made the whole scheme worth it.
“What?” he asked when he noticed you staring.
“You look happier.”
“I look like I’m in public.”
“No,” you said. “You look happier.”
He frowned as if trying to deny it and failing. “I suppose I am slightly less miserable.”
“That counts.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
By afternoon, the panic in the palace had reached ridiculous heights. A messenger found you at a tea stall and nearly collapsed in relief when he saw Zuko alive and eating pastries.
“Your Majesty,” he said, breathless, “we have been searching everywhere.”
Zuko glanced at the pastry in his hand, then at the messenger, then at you.
You smiled sweetly.
The messenger’s eyes darted between the two of you and the plain clothes and the complete lack of emergency.
“You did this,” he said weakly.
You put a hand over your heart. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Zuko, to his credit, looked as though he might be offended on principle. Then he looked at the pastry again and decided that offense could wait.
When you finally returned to the palace that evening, the ministers were waiting in the council room with faces full of outrage and relief in equal measure.
The head minister stepped forward. “Your Majesty, we feared,”
Zuko raised one hand. “I know.”
“You disappeared.”
“I was informed.”
“There was concern.”
“Excellent.”
The man blinked. “Excellent?”
Zuko looked at you once, and some long-suffering softness crept into his face. “My wife believed I required one day away from paperwork.”
The council collectively stared.
You stepped in before anyone could begin a formal complaint. “And he did.”
The head minister looked as though he wanted to argue, but whatever objection he had died somewhere in the face of the Fire Lord standing beside you looking calmer than he had in weeks.
Zuko folded his arms. “The kingdom survived without me.”
A shocked silence followed.
Then one of the younger aides, brave or foolish, muttered, “Barely.”
That drew a real laugh from you.
To everyone’s surprise, it drew one from Zuko too.
By the end of the night, the palace had settled into a new kind of panic: not fear, but awe. The Fire Lord had taken a day off, the world had not ended, and no one quite knew how to process that.
Later, when the two of you were finally alone again, Zuko stood at the balcony doors with the city quiet below and said, “You were right.”
You set aside the book you had been pretending to read. “About what?”
He glanced back at you. “About resting.”
You smiled, crossing the room toward him. “I know.”
He gave you a look. “You are insufferable.”
“You love me.”
His mouth curved. “Unfortunately, yes.”
You stepped into his arms, and he wrapped them around you without hesitation, finally done pretending he did not need this. The day had not fixed everything. There was still work, still duty, still a kingdom waiting for its Fire Lord.
But for one day, he had belonged to himself.
And that, you thought, was worth every angry minister in the Fire Nation.
