summary: you made your choice, and you have to deal with it.
a/n: i know ive already said this but we finally on the road!!!! spoiler but not rlly spoiler we finally have some gaang time and boy have i missed writing for them. and ohhhh whats that a small zuko pov? wow. hope you all enjoy!!
wc: 6.1k
warning(s): death talks, injuries, r going thru it but SOKKA is finally here
“Will you stop pacing?”
“No.”
“Zuko—”
“She should’ve been back by now.”
“She’s seeing her family again,” Azula says. “You know how she feels about her brother.”
“But she’s been gone for a week,” Zuko insists. “That’s weird!”
“You don’t have to worry about her like this just because she’s your fiancee,” Azula says idly.
“I don’t know why you keep bringing it up,” he says. “You were furious the first time around.”
“That’s because my best friend was engaged to my idiot brother,” she says, rolling her eyes. “At least this time, it’s keeping her around.”
“So you wanted us stuck in an engagement because you’re too scared to talk to her about Ba Sing Se?”
“Watch your mouth,” Azula snaps. “The only reason you are accepted here is because of my word. I groveled at Father’s feet so you didn’t have to.”
Zuko rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s a gut feeling.”
“And those have gone so well in the past, haven’t they?”
“Why are you acting like this?” Zuko marvels, turning on her. “You just said she’s your best friend, and something terrible could’ve happened, and you don’t even care?”
Azula huffs an incredulous laugh. “This is why I’ve been able to survive here and you haven’t.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think?” she questions. “You can’t hide anything, Zuko. You’re a walking time bomb, on the verge of exploding every time someone says something you don’t like. If I wasn’t here to help, Father would have already banished you again.”
Zuko scowls and Azula shakes her head. “There you go again. You can’t even hide your distaste for me, and you’ve had your whole life to practice.”
“Because you never stop pushing,” he snaps.
“Oh, get over it,” she scoffs. “If you’re going to be Fire Lord someday, you’re going to deal with a whole lot worse. Honestly, you should be thanking me.”
Zuko grumbles as he turns around, but he frowns when he catches sight of the most unexpected thing—your father, having just turned the corner in a haste.
“General Haruto?” he calls, and the man stops in his tracks, eyes widening when he sees Zuko before he schools his expression back to normal.
“Prince Zuko, Princess Azula.” Your father bows and places his fist below his open palm before he stands up straight. “I have been looking for your Highnesses.”
Zuko frowns as he says your name. “Where is she?”
General Haruto’s face falls, but he manages to make eye contact with Zuko. “I am so sorry, my prince.”
He sees Azula’s eyes widen before she can stop it, and she shoulders her way past him. “What does that mean?”
“My son was promoted to commander recently, as I am sure you know. He takes immense pride in his ship, and he took my daughter on a short ride at her request. But,” he sighs, “they got caught in a storm that none of us expected. Perhaps they could have weathered it with Commander Kezu’s crew, but it was just the two of them. They…”
Your father trails off, and Zuko swears he sees steam curling up from his sister’s head as she glares at your father.
“Just spit it out,” Azula demands.
“...They were lost,” he manages. “My son’s body washed up on shore this morning. His crew will remain on the water until we find my daughter’s remains.”
“What?”
Zuko’s yell bounces off the walls as Azula takes a step back, your father’s head bowed.
“Th— that can’t be right,” Zuko insists. “If— if you haven’t found her, then she’s still alive! You can’t possibly be sure that she’s dead if she’s still out there!”
“...This washed up as well, my prince.”
Haruto holds out his hand and Zuko recoils.
It’s the flame pin he gave you the first time around. You wore it every day since, even during his banishment, even after you met again in the desert…
Even when you died.
Zuko wishes he didn’t listen to you. He wishes he threw his weight around a little bit more, insisted that as your fiance and the crown prince, you couldn’t stop him from coming with you no matter what.
But you were so upset the last time he used his title and the engagement, and you’re right, truly. Neither of you wanted this engagement, but Zuko can’t go against his father again—and you’re far from the worst person to marry. You kissed once as kids and again the night before you left to go to your father’s base, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it more than he should.
Zuko loves Mai, sure—but he loves you too, in a different way. You’re a part of him, no matter what happens between you, whether you’re engaged or not.
But now you’re gone. He failed again. But it’s worse this time—he failed you.
Zuko only stays standing through pure force of will. There’s a distant ringing in his ears growing steadily louder as he takes the pin, the metal glinting in the light. Azula’s hands shake at her side, and Zuko’s eyes soften. Through all the fighting and showboating, it’s easy to forget his sister is just a kid. But Azula will always be his younger sister, and he’ll always love her, for better or for worse.
“This is your fault,” she spits, and he sees the rare glimmer of tears welling in her eyes. “I will have you demoted! I will have you banished! I will—”
Her voice breaks and she shakes her head. Zuko reaches out for her shoulder, but she rips out his grasp as she blinks away tears. Azula’s eyes dart between the two of them, manic in her anger, then she turns and runs.
Azula never runs from anything.
“I will make you privy to any funeral arrangements once we find her,” Haruto says, and Zuko only partially hears it as he looks back at him. “I am so sorry for your loss, Prince Zuko. I know you two were close even without the engagement.”
He nods, but he doesn’t really feel anything. How could you actually be gone? “I’m sure my father will provide you with the necessary resources.”
Haruto nods with a sad smile. “That is why I am here.”
“Good luck,” he says, almost numb.
Zuko doesn’t want it to be true. You’re one of his only friends, and you’ve stuck beside him even through not one, but two unwanted engagements.
But why would your father lie about this? He lost two children in one night. Zuko’s amazed that the man is still standing. Uncle barely made it through one loss.
“Thank you, Prince Zuko,” your father says quietly. “I am only sorry this is the way we had to meet again.”
He walks away, leaving Zuko alone as he stares at the flame pin in his hand. All he has left of you is a stupid gift that you never even wanted in the first place.
You’re gone.
You’re really gone.
-
Everything is too much.
You don’t even feel anything at first, fully numb to the world until you begin to slowly regain consciousness—a shock in itself.
Immediately, pain shoots from your head to your toes and everywhere in between. When you try to move, you’re only able to groan. Your hair is plastered all over your face, completely torn out of its topknot. It feels like a tank train has plowed straight into you. You can’t open your eyes because the full force of the sun is beaming down upon you. Even the sand scrapes against your skin like knives.
It takes all the strength you have to push yourself up onto one shoulder—then you see a boy standing across from you, and you scream and fall back down.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, his eyes widening. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“Holy shit,” you breathe, placing a hand on your chest where you feel your thundering heartbeat. You try to calm down as you brush your hair out of your face and stare up at the perfectly blue sky, but the incessant ache through your whole body makes that difficult. “Where am I?”
“A beach.”
You groan. “Where?”
“A beach in the Fire Nation,” he says, and you frown. There are no beaches at your father’s army base, just endless forests with an abrupt start to the docks.
You manage to sit up again with considerable effort, biting back all your grimaces. The boy looks even younger than you, wearing nothing but swim trunks with slightly damp hair and blue lines running across his arms and legs and ending in a point on his forehead.
That’s when you realize—they’re not blue lines.
They’re arrows.
“Oh, spirits,” you whisper, “I really am dead.”
“What? No, you’re not!”
“You’re the Avatar,” you say faintly. “The Avatar is dead.”
He frowns. “I’m not either.”
“You’re not the Avatar?”
“I’m not dead!”
You feel faint. “But Azu—”
You stop, not wanting to reveal yourself to the Avatar of all people, but he just gives you a wry smile.
“It’s okay. I recognized you pretty quickly. It’s hard to forget the people who try to kill you multiple times.”
You grimace. “Sorry about that.”
“Well, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?”
“Honestly, yeah. You don’t look like you’re in great shape.”
“I don’t feel like it,” you admit. “I don’t even know how I would’ve gotten here.”
“Are you saying you don’t remember anything?”
Your brows pinch together as you try to go through your mind, but it’s a weary mess right now. All you can really gather is the revelation in your father’s office, reading letters and realizing he’s been lying to you— and then it strikes like lightning as your eyes widen.
“Kezu,” you realize in muted horror. You push through the pain as you struggle to your feet and stumble to the shore, water coming up to your ankles as you stare out across the horizon.
“Kezu!” you shout, cupping your hands around your mouth. “Kezu, I’m here! Kezu—”
Your voice breaks as a few tears stream down your face, and you fall to your knees in the water. Before your memories were flashes, but now it’s all crashing into you like a wave, strong enough to knock you down.
You were trying to leave together, to finally get away from the Fire Nation, but your father found out. Kezu stayed and forced you to go. The fire from their attacks burns against your eyelids and you choke back a sob. Kezu is strong, but even he couldn’t win against your father’s numbers—and General Haruto is not known for his mercy.
He really sacrificed himself for you.
You only barely hear the Avatar’s voice through the ringing in your ears, but you can’t move. He wades out to you and helps you stand, surprisingly strong for a little kid as he helps you back to the shore.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “You don’t need to help.”
“Everyone needs a little help sometimes. Besides, I think if I let go, you would fall.”
You think he’s right. You feel like a newborn puma goat with your shaky legs. You’re already thinking about how much it’s going to suck drying your clothes out with your firebending, but then the Avatar moves his hands in fluid movements and starts to bend the water out.
“Thanks,” you say.
“No problem,” he says. “Katara and I have to do this a lot.”
You stand in awkward silence until you’re dry. The Avatar sends the water back into the ocean then looks at you with gentle eyes. He’s just a kid—a kid that you spent a month terrorizing. You can’t get the thought out of your head.
“Who’s Kezu?” he asks gently, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you glance away.
“My brother.” You wrap your arms around yourself and let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t think he was as lucky as me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
You blink back your tears furiously. “Thank you. A- and thank you for your help, but if you let me go, I won’t bother you ever again.”
He frowns. “What? Why would I leave you?”
“Because I’m Fire Nation,” you say. “And I’ve tried to kill you and your friends.”
“But you’re not trying to kill me now.”
“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you frown. “But I— you’re the Avatar, I mean. You have things to do, and besides, I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are.”
You sigh and look away again. You might be dry, but your skin is still so much colder than you’re used to. You focus and start heating your skin from within, but you stumble at the smallest use of your power. The Avatar moves, prepared to catch you, but you steady yourself and manage a shaky smile.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Maybe you are,” he says. “But one of my friends is a healer, and she can look over you to make sure you really are okay. It would make me feel a lot better.”
“You really think your friends will trust someone from the Fire Nation?” you ask wryly.
“I can vouch for you!” he promises. “And like you said, I don’t think you could hurt anyone right now in your state.
You throw a weak punch to prove a point, but make an equally weak flame. The Avatar smiles.
“I don’t think you want to hurt us anyways.”
“And how’s that?”
“Because you wouldn’t have ended up here if you weren’t running away,” he says gently, and you shiver even with your heated skin.
“How are you just a kid and already so good at reading people?”
“Because I ran away once too,” the Avatar says. “But we all have to face our destinies sooner or later.”
You purse your lips as you look out across the sea. You only see specks of land against the horizon, which you stand absolutely zero chance of getting to on your own.
If the Avatar is here, that means Sokka is here. And if the Avatar is actually alive, maybe that means Sokka is fine too.
And honestly, you would much rather take your chances with the Avatar and his friends than the nation you just betrayed. At least you’ll get to see Sokka again, even if it’s just for a few seconds before he inevitably kicks you out.
“I guess I don’t have any other choice,” you sigh, and the Avatar smiles as you turn back to him.
“That’s the spirit!” he exclaims, and you start walking off the beach into the greenery together. A few seconds pass before you glance at him.
“What’s your name anyways? You’ve just been the Avatar in my head since we met.”
“I’m Aang,” he says. “What’s yours? You’ve just been scary Fire Nation lady in my head.
You give him your name then frown. “I’m not scary.”
“You’re an incredible firebender, and you were trying to kill me.”
“You really think so?” you muse.
“Yeah, I do think you were trying to kill me.”
“I mean the firebending part. Do you really think I’m an incredible firebender?”
“Of course,” he says. “The other part’s true too.”
“Naturally.”
It’s a slow and painful walk back to their camp, but Aang talks your ear off to make the time pass even slower.
He’s a nice kid, nicer than you deserve, but you just received some of the worst news of your life. At least his endless rambling is kind of helping to keep your mind off of it. That sinking dread is still there in your stomach.
Your brother is gone because he tried to help you, and you have to deal with that for what you think will now be a very short life.
Soon you start spotting tents, and you see a small fire going in the center of their camp. Two figures are sitting by the fire talking, and your chest feels all tight.
Sokka.
By now, Aang is having to support you with your arm over his shoulder, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. You were fine back at the beach, just kind of aching all over, but now it’s like a komodo rhino trampled you on top of the tank train.
Aang uses his airbending to keep you from falling when you stumble, then he starts shouting.
“Katara! Sokka! I need your help!”
The figures at the fire stand up and immediately start running, and you recognize Sokka even from here. Your throat closes up a bit when you see he has his hair down, your legs growing even weaker. You suddenly feel very self-conscious about your tattered clothes and the sand stuck in your damp hair.
You try to comb it out as they get closer, but when Sokka’s eyes lock onto yours, he freezes, nearly toppling over.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Hi,” you say softly, and his brows knit together just so.
His sister stops beside him, her eyes widening as she glares at Aang. “What are you doing bringing someone from the Fire Nation back here? And why are you just showing off your arrows for the whole world to see?”
“Lecture me later,” Aang says. “I found her washed up on the beach, and she’s really hurt.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Katara says. “It’s probably just a ploy to get close to you so she can kill you.”
“It’s not,” he insists. “She was running—”
“Tui and La!” she interrupts, eyes widening as she stares at you. “You’re one of Azula’s friends!”
“Why can’t I ever just be myself?” you mumble. Your vision is swimming by now. Right is left and up and down and this child Avatar is the only thing keeping you standing.
“Wait a minute,” she says, and she turns to Sokka. “Don’t tell me this is the girl.”
His eyes widen slightly and he purses his lips. “I won’t tell you then.”
Katara groans. “I can’t stand you!”
“I wasn’t even the one who brought her back!” he insists. “Blame Aang! He’s the goody two shoes that brought her right into our camp!”
“She was hurt!” Aang exclaims. “She still is!”
“She’s a firebender that tried to kill us!”
“But she felt bad about it—”
“I don’t really think that matters, Sokka!”
They continue to go back and forth, but you don’t really hear any of it as your legs give out beneath you. You slip from Aang’s grasp and tumble to the ground, and the last thing you see before your eyelids flutter shut is Sokka running towards you.
-
“Azula, this is stupid.”
“All you do is complain, Zuzu.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’ll stop calling you that when you earn it,” Azula says haughtily. “Besides, you were all set to play when your girlfriend asked you to.”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Zuko shouts, and you and Ty Lee grin as Mai flushes bright red.
You think Mai has been crushing on Zuko since the first time she stepped foot in the palace, and even though you have no idea what she sees in him, you love teasing her with your friends.
“I don’t know, Zuko,” you say innocently. “I always see you staring at her when you’re walking through the gardens. That’s weird if you don’t like her.”
“How is it weird?” he marvels, eyes wide with exasperation. Ty Lee has to cover her mouth to stifle her giggles. “She’s my friend— am I not allowed to look at my friends anymore?”
“Some noble houses consider a longing gaze a marriage proposal,” Azula says sagely. “Don’t you pay attention in class?”
Zuko flushes and he looks at Mai. “You pay attention in class. She’s lying, right?”
“I don’t know,” she grumbles. “Stop asking me questions.”
“Geez, what’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Mai counters, and Zuko groans.
“This is why I don’t play with you guys! You’re all completely crazy!”
“So you can train with us but you can’t play with us?” Ty Lee pouts.
“At least you don’t talk this much when we’re training!” Zuko complains, crossing his arms with a huff.
Azula gives you a sharp smile and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel bad teasing Zuko sometimes, but he’s the oldest, so he can take it. That’s what Azula says, at least.
Your attention is drawn to the palace doors when someone yells your name. You flinch before you can help it, but when you turn to see your brother, you grin wider than ever.
“Kezu!” you shout, and you sprint across the gardens to barrel into him. He laughs as he picks you up and spins you around until your head is reeling.
“I clearly see who the favorites are,” Lee says wryly, and you laugh as Kezu sets you down.
“You know I love you, Lee. You’re just never here.”
“I guess General Shinu woke up on the right side of the bed today, because he accepted my request for some time off.” He grimaces. “One day, actually. I have to be back to the stronghold tomorrow. By dawn preferably, actually—”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to make the most of it,” you interrupt with a grin. “Let me go tell my friends, then I’ll be right back.”
Azula is frowning when you run back to your friends.
“What’s going on?”
“Both my brothers are finally able to visit,” you say. “We’re going to have a day out on the town before they have to go back to work.”
“But you’re busy,” Azula says. “You can’t go.”
“We’re just playing, Azula,” you say.
“Exactly.” She crosses her arms. “Tell them you can’t go.”
You frown. “But I can go.”
“Come on, Azula,” Zuko urges. “Now’s not the time.”
“Well, we need four people to play the game,” she insists.
“Then I’ll play,” he says.
Your eyes widen slightly, and Zuko nods. “It’s been forever since you’ve seen them. Go.”
You nod and run off before Azula can blast you as revenge, but you already hear her yelling orders at Mai, Ty Lee and Zuko. Both your brothers look at you when you make it back to them—Kezu with wary concern and Lee with wary interest.
“What happened there?” Lee asks.
“Azula wanted me to play, I said I couldn’t.”
“It seemed like a little more than that,” Kezu says.
“It was nothing. I promise. Now,” you get between them and take one of their hands in yours each, then put on your most authoritative voice, “take me to the festivities, soldier boys.”
“I’m a sailor,” Kezu emphasizes as you start walking together, “not a soldier. Not everyone wants to be an army brat like you and Father.”
“And I’m an archer,” Lee adds. “A Yuyan in training, specifically. It’s a very important title. You know that, right?”
“And I’m Princess Azula’s playmate,” you say wryly. “We’re all very special. Now, what have you been up to? Have you permanently scarred anyone else, Lee?”
He groans, and you bite back your smile. The scar on your cheek has faded a decent amount since the day he accidentally grazed you with an arrow, but you will tease him for as long as you can. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”
“Until it’s gone,” you say. “And a little bit longer after that.”
“You only have me for a day,” he says.
“I’ll send messenger hawks.”
“General Shinu reads all messenger hawks before passing them on to us.”
“Oh, good! Then you’ll both see it!”
“No, he’ll just throw yours in the trash. Or maybe the fire.”
“Then I’ll just send even more on fireproof paper!”
“That doesn’t exist!”
“How would you know? I’ve burned enough things down to know what’s fireproof or not— all you do is shoot arrows.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
Kezu sighs, but you don’t miss his smile as he looks down at the two of you, swinging your arm with his. “It’s going to be a long, long day.”
-
Nothing feels real when you wake up.
Your limbs are weightless, your pain is gone. It’s like you’re still in a dream, because you think that’s the only place you could feel like this—but then the lingering soreness comes back, and you know you’re in the real world. It usually fades into the background because it’s so common for you, but now that the rest of you is healed, it sticks out like a sore thumb.
You try to sit up, but you immediately realize you aren’t all healed when you groan.
“Oh, spirits— don’t move.”
You frown at the unfamiliar voice, trying to lift your head to put a face to the name, but a steady hand pushes you back down. A blue glow fills the room and you feel a strange, cool sensation on your chest.
“Didn’t you hear me? Don’t move!”
Your vision finally clears and you see the girl from before sitting beside you. Katara, Sokka’s sister—the waterbender that keeps screwing you over. You let your head fall back against the floor, deciding you don’t really want to mess with her right now.
“Where am I?” you ask, voice raspy from disuse. Your throat is so dry it hurts to swallow.
“Where do you think?” The blue glow subsides along with the cool feeling on your chest, and she slides back. “Okay. You can move now.”
You grimace as you sit up. The action takes a concerning amount of energy, but your splitting headache is gone, and you can think much clearer.
“How do you feel?” Katara asks.
“A little sore, but that’s normal.” You glance at Katara just to see she’s already looking at you, blue eyes drilling through you. “You healed me?”
“It’s a special ability some waterbenders have,” she says. “Aang wouldn’t leave until I promised to help you.”
“Thank you,” you say. “I… honestly don’t know how I’m alive.”
“Neither do I,” she admits. “Aang says you washed up on shore. How’d that happen?”
“...My brother and I were going to leave the Fire Nation,” you say, and her eyes widen slightly. “Our father caught us, and he stayed back so I could get out. I got caught in a storm, but I don’t really remember anything after that.”
“Judging by the cuts and bruises and the two broken ribs, the sea swallowed you whole and spit you back out. You’re extremely lucky to be alive.”
“Sure,” you say faintly.
“You don’t think you’re lucky?”
“My brother’s dead, and it’s my fault,” you say quietly. “Take a wild guess.”
Katara’s eyes soften. It’s worse than anger, honestly, because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of her kindness. You deserved to die on that beach for what you’ve done.
She opens her mouth to say something, but she’s interrupted when someone walks into the tent.
Sokka.
You freeze in place, but he doesn’t seem to notice you. His hair falls just below his eyes and he tugs at his ivory necklace, and Katara sighs.
“Sokka—”
“I’ll be out soon,” he says. “I just wanted to—”
He finally spots you and his eyes widen a bit. “You’re awake.”
You nod, then frown. “How long was I out?”
“A day and a half,” Katara says.
“What?”
“You were seriously injured,” she says. “Do you know what internal bleeding is?”
“...Bleeding internally?”
She rolls her eyes. “If Aang didn’t find you when he did, you wouldn’t have made it off that beach.
“I’ll be sure to thank him,” you say. If he let you leave like you asked… You swallow the lump in your throat.
You’re suddenly very glad the Avatar is a very stubborn boy.
“You should thank my brother, too,” she continues. “He saved you from a nasty concussion.”
You look up at Sokka and he glances away. “I just caught you before you fell. Anyone would have done it.”
“Sure,” Katara says. “I was able to mostly mend your ribs, but it’s going to take a couple days to heal. We’ll need to do more healing sessions.”
“Whatever’s necessary,” you nod.
“Can we have the tent?” Sokka asks wryly, and she frowns.
“You want me to leave my tent?”
“That’s what I said. Are your ears okay?”
“I’m not leaving my tent so you can gush over the girl who tried to kill us!”
“How many times do I have to tell you that she felt bad about it?” Sokka complains.
“Until I believe it,” she says.
“Fine,” Sokka snips, and he says your name. “Come on, we can talk outside.”
“Why do you want to talk to me?” you ask.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I haven’t seen you since we were stuck in a cave together and now you’ve just washed up on our beach?”
“...Right.”
“Don’t hurt her, Sokka,” Katara says as you stand and walk over.
“I didn’t know you cared,” Sokka says.
“Oh, I don’t,” she says, and you purse your lips. “I just don’t want all that healing to go to waste.”
“You’re so kind,” he says.
“You know me. Kind Katara.”
Sokka rolls his eyes and walks out. He holds the tent flap open for you, then motions for you to follow. The sun is setting steadily in the distance and you frown. You really were out for a while.
“How do you feel?” Sokka asks.
“Better,” you say. “Your sister’s pretty amazing, being able to heal like that.”
“Yeah. She is.”
As you’re walking past the fire, you suddenly trip over a rock in your way—then you yelp as your feet are encased in rock, nearly toppling you over. It grows up past your ankles to your calves, and no matter how much you tug, it doesn’t move.
“What the—”
“What is she doing here?”
You look over to see a dark-haired girl who looks about the same age—she’s the earthbender from before, the one that completely foiled your plans. This group is really good at that. But most surprising is her blank gaze. She doesn’t look at you when she’s speaking, her hair just about obscures her gaze, and her eyes are glazed over.
“You’re blind,” you mutter.
“Right in one,” she says.
“Seriously, Toph?” Sokka complains.
“We got beaten by a blind girl?” you marvel.
“I don’t need to see to pummel you,” she says. “Sokka, what is she doing here? I recognize her footsteps— she’s one of Azula’s friends.”
“You recognize my—” you mutter, but you stop yourself when you remember she could break your legs in an instant. “Yeah. Sure. Blind girl is the best earthbender I’ve ever met. Why not?”
“You’re awake!”
You look over to see Aang leaving his tent, bright eyes gleaming with a demeanor much kinder than Toph’s, but your shoulders still sag. You don’t have it in you to deal with all this right after waking up.
“Yeah,” you say.
“She washed up on the beach and Katara was healing her,” Sokka explains.
“I know that,” Toph says. “But why is she still here?”
“Because she just woke up? What, do you want us to kick her out right now?”
“I guess not.” She pushes her hands down and the rocks around your legs sink back into the ground. They buckle beneath you and Sokka has to lunge to catch you before you fall, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hauls you back up.
“Sorry,” you say, your face exploding in heat as you look away. “I— I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You just woke up and you’re still recovering,” Sokka says. His hands are cool against your heated skin, and he clears his throat. “Are you good to stand?” You nod, and he carefully pulls his hands away from your waist.
“Have you had your fun, Toph?” Sokka asks.
“Yeah, actually,” she says, and she smiles at the ground. “Now she knows not to mess with us.”
“She’s not going to,” Aang insists. “I wouldn’t have brought her back here if I thought she would hurt any of you!”
“Can we get some privacy?” Sokka complains, looking between his friends. “We need to have a talk.”
“Ooh, I can hear your heartbeat,” Toph teases. “What do you want to talk about?”
Aang grins. “Are you serious?”
“You two are impossible!” Sokka shouts, and he grabs your hand and starts pulling you along, away from the camp.
You stifle a small laugh, but your head is still spinning. You can’t believe these are the kids that have continuously bested Azula. They’re… well, they’re just kids. Sokka looks like the oldest one around, and it’s very clear he doesn’t have the best judgement.
Sokka says your name and brings you back into yourself. You’re a decent way from camp, far enough to keep his friends from eavesdropping.
“So,” he says.
“...So.”
“Where have you been?” he asks.
You grimace. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“If you want to stay here, yeah.”
“...I was in the Fire Nation,” you admit quietly, and Sokka’s eyes widen.
“What?”
“Azula barely gave me a choice.”
“You didn’t seem to have much of a problem going against her when we were talking.”
“This was different!” you insist. “Why does it matter anyways? The Avatar is alive. The world isn’t over.”
Sokka’s gaze hardens and he looks away. “Because for a good second, he wasn’t.”
“...What?”
“Azula killed him,” Sokka says quietly. “Aang was going into the Avatar State to try and save us all, but she struck him with lightning, and he died. Katara saved him with spirit water from the North, but…” he lets out a heavy sigh. “But for a while, it was looking like he wouldn’t wake up again.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I— I had no idea. Azula didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sure,” Sokka says. He crosses his arms as he looks back at you. “Why did you go back to the Fire Nation?”
“I told you, I didn’t have a choice.”
“You said she barely gave you a choice. That means she did.”
You sigh and glance away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t get to pull that!” Sokka exclaims. “I t— we’ve trusted you, Katara’s healed you, Aang went out on a limb for you, all because they’re good people.”
“Sokka—”
“But I know you better than they do,” he continues. “I know that you’re capable of lying through your teeth, of smiling one moment and knocking someone’s lights in the next moment. Just because we’ve talked a few times doesn’t mean we’re friends, okay? And I’m fine with sending you out on your own once you’re healed—”
“She said she would kill you!” you exclaim, and Sokka’s mouth clamps shut as he stares at you with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Azula said if I didn’t go home with her, she would kill you,” you say, blinking back tears as you look away. “She had control of the Dai Li, and you and Zuko were trapped down there, and I— I just couldn’t risk it.” You swallow the lump in your throat but your mouth is still dry as sandpaper. “That’s why I went home.”
You start walking away, unable to face Sokka anymore, but he grabs your wrist and you stop.
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.
“How could you?”
“They were a little rough with me, but I never…” Sokka sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For whatever you went through back home for my sake,” he says. “...Thank you.”
You shrug uncomfortably. “Anyone would’ve done it.”
Sokka smiles and you find yourself standing up a little taller. He runs s.o much colder than you, but the brightness in his smile is always enough to warm you from the inside out—even one as small as this one.
“But you did,” he says, and you manage a smile of your own. “Now come on. It’s getting dark, and we should get back to camp before Katara starts worrying.”
“She probably thinks I threw you off a cliff,” you say.
Sokka tilts his head. “I kinda thought you would too.”
You laugh a bit and he smiles at the sound. As you walk back to camp together, the tension in your shoulders unknots for the first time in a very, very long time.
TLOA!Sokka nsfw headcanons yall are NOT ready 👅 (written with fem!reader in mind but i think it can be read as gn too!)
1. Bush warrior until the day he dies, I truly believe he lives laughs loves it
2. He LOVES manhandling you, not necessarily to appear more dominant etc etc, mostly to show off I think… Since he isn’t a bender, he’d want to show his strength in other ways (brain power+muscles I’m currently salivating). And he would 100% flex his muscles during it. LIKE UGH LET ME LICK YOUR BACK MUSCLES PLZ DADDY 💔💔
3. I’m a firm switch sokka believer. AT FIRST I think he’d be super dominant, he’d take the lead all the time. At some point you’d tell him something along the lines of “oh yk we can try to switch roles sometime.” He’d be sceptical and most likely sour about it (because why would you wanna be dom that’s literally his job???). The MOMENT you get on top, he melts into a puddle and turns putty in your hands. From that point on he’s addicted to you being dominant.
4. I think he wouldn’t be too big in crazy positions. Missionary and lotus would be his favourite. (Reverse) cowgirl or facesitting he’s feeling frisky. On special occasions he’d fold you in half but that’s the maximum. He’s a basic man with basic needs🙂↕️
5. LOVES seeing you in his clothes, whether it’s his parka or his tunic (bonus points if it’s a sleeveless one). If he catches you wearing them, he’s carrying you on the bed in 2 milliseconds. And they stay ON. Don’t you dare take them off, he’ll be moody for the rest of the day.
6. I’ve made a post about this but UGH shoving your fingers down his throat to shut him up. He’d go feral. His eyes would roll back and he’s let out a delicious groan.
7. Similar to no. 4, I think the places he’d wanna take you would be pretty basic. Bedroom ofc, in the kitchen while you cook for him, in his workshop (with the door locked). Maybe the most extreme one would be in some kind of body of water? Like an ice bath in a secluded area? Both of you in the cold water, alone…
8. TOTALLY INTO TEMPERATURE PLAY 👅 Especially if you’re on the cooler side (self insert alert) he’d love it if you ran your cold hands on his warm skin. Shoving them under his clothes is a must!!
9. Very much into hickeys both receiving and giving. Also into scratches (receiving). He’d bury his face into your neck or chest and he’d suck on the soft skin until it turned into a deep shade of purple. Also, don’t be confused if you see him in the morning flexing his back muscles in a mirror with red scratches on them. If he realises you caught him, he’d get embarrassed and bury himself under the covers with you again.
10. Ab riding with Sokka. Getting both of yourselves all whiny and overstimulated. I won't say anything else, because I'm gonna start foaming at the mouth 🤤🤤🤤
This is a repost from my comment on this post + some more because I know sokka fans are (rightfully) greedy. If you couldn’t tell I’m hyperfixated on his back im crine
Summary: Life working as a server at The Jasmine Dragon has always been peculiar to say the least. Turns out that lunatic Jet was right; the staff of Ba Sing Sei’s most beloved tea shop were firebenders. Not only that, but the bitter reclusive server boy? He was the disgraced Fire Nation Prince. So maybe you had no right to be shocked when your awkward work crush returned to the shop, with the crown of the Fire Nation perched on his head.
Pairing: Fire Lord Zuko x fem!reader
Word Count: 4.7k~
Content/Warnings: n/a
A/N: Rewatching the third season of ATLA and I just think the episode where Zuko goes on a date with the girl from Ba Sing Sei was so cute it has been living rent free in my mind. i might do a second part to this bc idk if i rlly like the cliffhanger rip
The dull white noise of conversation in the parlor, muffled by the cloth divider in the kitchen’s doorway, lulls your senses as you brew a new pot of tea for the noble who had just arrived. You rarely got to brew the shops’ finest Jasmine tea, the leaves saved for only the most honored guests. Beyond the partition, you could hear Iroh chatting idly with the newcomer, though you couldn’t make out who exactly was on the other end of the conversation.
You’ve been The Jasmine Dragon’s main server for years now, even doing a stint as acting manager when your boss, a man you knew as Mushi then, disappeared with little warning. The locals had been crestfallen to see the shop absent of its jolly owner, but you had made your best effort at keeping the place up and running on your own. Honestly? The most difficult part had been handling the return of Mushi; the whiplash of the admittance that he had been using a fake name, the now constant whispers of the patrons that the fiery young man you had worked with, Mushi’s nephew Lee, was actually the disgraced Prince of the Fire Nation.
It felt bizarre to picture Lee in anything other than his earthy colored uniform and apron with his scowling face, even if you had seen the illustrations of him in the regal garb of The Fire Lord that Iroh brought back with him after travelling home for his nephew’s coronation. The illustration was still pinned up there in the kitchen, the harsh rendition of those soft golden eyes always peering down at you as you worked.
“Fire Lord Zuko; Bringer of the Dawn of a new Fire Nation” Read the script that was scrawled down the side of the scroll. It was the only way you could really be reminded that Lee wasn’t his
real name. In his ink rendering, Zuko was only slightly older than the last time you’d seen him in Ba Sing Sei. As the steam of the teapot swirled gently upwards, you were trying to picture how he might look now.
“How is it going back here?” Iroh’s smiling face emerges from behind the cloth divider, jolting you back to reality.
“Almost finished, would you like me to fetch some pastries too?” You loaded the tea set onto the serving tray, already well aware that your indulgent employer would want a snack to go with the tea.
“That sounds lovely,” you could hear the smile in Iroh’s voice. “I’ll be taking our guest to the private parlor if you would be so kind as to join us once you’re done?” When the graying man sees you nod in response he ducks back out into the shop, leaving you to finish assembling the tray.
It’s not until you emerge back into the main parlor that you realize the ambience of chatter that typically fills the place is hushed. Patrons whisper excitedly at their tables and watch you like hawks as you carry the serving of tea and treats towards the closed private tearoom. The silence rings loud in your ears as you draw the door open to step inside.
The sight of him, sitting elegantly at the low table, knocks the breath from your lungs.
He’s massive; a hulk of toned muscle with posture that made it clear he was royalty. Gone was the wiry boy you had bussed tables with, the slouched awkward teenager trying too hard not to look comfortable in the Earth Kingdom.
“Lee?”
The sound of his old alias brings an amused smile to the Fire Lord’s lips, and you feel your face set ablaze with embarrassment.
“Sorry. Fire Lord Zuko, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” You set the tea tray down on the oak wood table, kneeling to pour two cups of tea.
“It’s nice to see you too.” Zuko’s hands brush yours as you pass him the cup, and he fixes those gentle golden eyes on you.
“I hope my dear Uncle hasn’t been piling too much work on you as of late.”
Iroh scoffs as he scoops the teapot up from the tray and pours a third cup, gesturing for you to join them. You sit hesitantly.
“I wouldn’t have to drown the poor girl in so much work if I could find some other decent help.” He raises an eyebrow at his nephew, as if to imply that running the Jasmine Dragon should take priority over running the Fire Nation.
“Sorry Uncle, if I could trade council meetings for serving tea you know I would do so in a heartbeat.”
You can’t help it. You let out an embarrassing snort, choking on the swig of tea halfway down your throat as you try to hold your laughter. The Fire Lord furrows his brow at you and cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, which only makes you giggle harder.
“You hated customer service.” You manage between gasps for air.
“Every shift you had something to complain about!”
You cross your arms and scrunch your face into a replica of the scowl he wore for his entire stay in the city and summon your best impression of Lee.
“How insufferable can they get?! They just want Jasmine tea; but they must want it brewed in a crystal teapot with the light of the full moon to imbue it with peaceful energy, because they’re never happy with how I make it!”
Iroh is doubled over with laughter. Zuko drops his face into the palm of his hand, his silky curtain of hair the only barrier concealing the scarlet flush creeping up his neck at your mocking performance.
“They kept saying they could feel my negative energy steeped into it.” He groans pathetically.
“If anyone in all of Ba Sing Sei could have steeped their grumpy energy into someone’s tea, it would be you.”
“Whatever, the point is somehow the Fire Nation nobles are worse.”
“Do they nag you about your negative energy as well?”
The sound of Iroh chuckling at your familiar bickering somehow returns you to your senses. You’re mocking The Fire Lord about his customer service skills, or lack thereof. You open your mouth again to apologize, but Zuko’s expression halts you. He looks at ease, eyes alight with his laughter.
“Politics is just customer service without a friend to complain to.” He shrugs.
“My only real reprieve is my letters to my friends; no one would intercept and read through my correspondence with the Avatar. I treat him like a private journal at this point.”
“You know you’re always welcome here!” Iroh reaches across the table to pat a hand on Zuko’s shoulder reassuringly. “Come visit whenever you need to let off some steam.”
Zuko rolls his eyes, but the smile lingers on his face. “Of course, I can always halt the rebuilding of the Fire Nation, the work on the reparations to the other Nations, the domestic humanitarian efforts; all projects I can put on the wayside. In fact, why don’t I tag in another member of the royal family to help me! Do you think Azula would take an interest in the infrastructure repairs in the Northern Water Tribe?”
A glint of mischief appears in Iroh’s kind eyes. “Alright, so you can’t just take time off to visit your aging uncle. At least spend some time with the lovely ladies of the Earth Kingdom while you’re visiting! Who knows, we may just find you a Fire Lady. That would relieve some of the council’s worry, wouldn’t it? I’m sure they would let up on you a bit if they knew you had at least a chance of producing an heir.”
You choke on your tea for the second time today. Zuko’s face has returned to the embarrassed pink color it was minutes before, and Iroh is grinning smugly as he looks between the two of you. You huff a strangled chuckle, starting to gather the empty dishes back onto the tray. Easiest to take this as your cue to leave; the idea of listening to Iroh rib Zuko about his love life sounded mortifying.
──────•✦•──────
When you stepped behind the partition the next morning, gathering your hair up into your hairpiece to keep it out of the way, you were stopped short by the figure occupying your place at the counter. Zuko had traded his scarlet silk robes for the muted cotton uniform of The Jasmine Dragon. His long hair was pulled into a neat knot at the back of his skull, lacking the gilded hairpiece he had worn yesterday. His calloused fingers handled the ceramics with a delicacy you wouldn’t have expected from him.
The Fire Lord was working his old customer service job.
And he looked obnoxiously good. Not that he hadn’t looked divine in his royal attire; but there was something about how human he looked, with his head free from the weight of a crown and a serving apron tied snugly at his hips, that made him painfully handsome.
“Come now, there’s work to get done!” Iroh bustled past you, the hint of laughter in his voice undisguised as he scolded you. “Help my nephew prepare for the group in the private parlor, would you?”
“Right, okay.” You’re quick to sling your own apron around your waist as you join Zuko at the counter.
“Hope you’ve been thinking happy thoughts while you brew.”
“Of course, all sunshine and rainbows over here.”
The soft chuckle your quip earns you sets loose butterflies in your stomach. It’s strange to have him here again. You feel hyper-aware of his every move, the way he radiates heat in the small kitchen, the sound of his breath as he lights the stove with his fingertips.
You try to let the rhythm of work take you over, to soothe the tension in your chest, and finally feel the weight of his presence lift slightly as you focus on the pastries you’re shaping. You feel more comfortable in the silence of work than the awkward pauses in conversation from yesterday, happy to let the clink of tea sets and the muffled ambience of the parlor be the soundtrack of the space.
The feeling of a hand on the small of your back, feather-light and cautious, jolts you from the flow of work. The warmth of Zuko’s palm bleeds through your shirt as he steps behind you. And then it’s gone, the only evidence of it happening at all is the blush burning bright on your cheeks.
“Sorry; I’ve got a tray of ceramics, didn’t want you to step back and bump into me as I passed.”
He’s balancing a full serving tray of cups on one hand, smiling softly at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, of course.”
Really eloquent today, aren’t you?
The rest of the day passes without a return to your mental sanctuary of workflow. You’re once again painfully aware of every movement Zuko makes, as if the air he shifts with each breath sets your every nerve on fire. When you step into the parlor to deliver a tea set to the newest arrivals, the place is packed. Not with the usual flow of nobles and couples on expensive dates, but with what must be every bachelorette in all of Ba Sing Sei. Their heads snap to the counter when the sound of your footsteps reaches them, fast enough to evoke a sympathetic pang of whiplash in your own neck, but as soon as they register it’s you the return to their whispered gossip. It’s almost unsettling to watch them perk their ears like dogs whenever the cloth divider shifts.
What a bizarre aura for the usually peaceful shop to have. It felt uncomfortable now to know that the patrons were waiting so intently for a glimpse of the Fire Lord.
“You might want to be careful going out there.” You tell Zuko as you duck back into the kitchen. “The ladies are prowling like huntresses.”
Zuko’s golden eyes are narrowed when he looks at you, brows furrowed in what you can only guess is confusion.
“Hm? What do you mean by that?”
You roll your eyes at him. As if he doesn’t know. “The court ladies in the parlor; they aren’t our regulars.”
That gorgeous scarred face stayed clouded by puzzlement, maybe he really hadn’t changed that much. Even when you were teenagers, girls had crowded into the shop to try and flirt with the angsty mysterious barista. His ignorance of their attempts to snatch his attention had only made him a more enticing individual.
“You’ll see when you take the next order out.” You sighed.
The spectacle of throwing Zuko to the wolves was too good to miss, so you lurked behind the counter as he assembled the tea tray you’d tasked him with bringing out. The second he emerged from the kitchen, brows still knit together with confusion, the parlor seemed to buzz with whispers. There was a heaviness to the air itself as the crowd of women watched Zuko cross the room to set the tray down on the nobleman’s table; and when he returned to the counter all hell broke loose. Girls flocked to the counter, all chattering over one another in an attempt to talk to the poor bewildered man behind it.
You were struggling to contain your laughter, wishing you could get a portrait made of the panicked expression on the Fire Lord’s face to tack up next to his royal flyer in the kitchen. But in some dark corner of your heart there was a twinge of jealousy you wished you could extinguish. It was that same childish resentment you had felt towards any dolled-up girl who had come in to the shop years ago asking for “that beautiful boy with the scar”, it felt ridiculous to feel it resurface now.
But through the cacophony of voices, Zuko seemed to pick out your laughter. He glared at you over his shoulder, but it was lacking any real fire behind it. Though he tried to maintain the scowl all the attention had put on his face, it softened at the sight of your smile.
“Don’t look so much like you’re enjoying this.” He pleaded.
“Oh, but I am enjoying it, Your Highness. Besides, wasn’t this the goal your dear uncle had in mind for your visit?”
The look of horror and the deep red shade that took the place of Zuko’s scowl just made you laugh harder.
──────•✦•──────
Iroh and Zuko departed early in the evening, leaving you to close The Jasmine Dragon on your own. You didn’t mind; the quiet of the empty shop was soothing. After all the dishes were set out to dry and the parlor had been swept, you tucked a parcel of leftover teacakes into your bag and began to lock up the shop.
Your heart plummets into your stomach when you turn from locking the front door to see a man leaning against the door frame, and your pulse only slows slightly when you register that it’s Zuko.
“Should you really be lurking outside the tea shop without any sort of royal guard?”
You glance around suspiciously for signs of the soldiers who had accompanied him and Iroh when they left earlier. “Seems kind of unsafe for The Fire Lord to be wandering the Earth Kingdom alone.”
“Should you be making the journey home alone this late at night?” There’s that ridiculous amused smile on his lips again as he quirks an eyebrow at you. “I think you’d be in a bit more trouble than me if someone decided to pick a fight.”
As badly as you want to conjure a rebuttal, you have to admit that he’s right. Compared to him you would be relatively helpless in a fight. His smile remains as he steps away from the door, gesturing for you to follow. The streets of Ba Sing Sei were lit by the gentle green glow of the lanterns strung between the shops lining the street. The only noise that broke the silence was the occasional clatter of a passing wagon and the sound of your footsteps.
What kind of small talk do you make with royalty?
The silence felt like a chasm between you two; your boldness to tease and joke with the Fire Lord now gone despite your best efforts to recall it to use. This was a man you’d spent lunch breaks and evening rushes with. The same guy you had chattered at endlessly a few years ago.
The same boy you’d even had the courage to kiss the last time he had walked you home like this.
You shiver at the unpleasant memory of that night; at the frown he had worn after the kiss, the awkward dodge of your request to go out together after your shift the next day. The way you two had parted had been humiliating; Zuko mumbling something about not being the kind of man you wanted before disappearing the next day after a huge fight with his uncle.
Maybe that was the real problem. Not that Zuko was royalty, or the son of a war criminal, or a close friend of the Avatar, just that he was almost like an ex.
But maybe you were being a bit delusional thinking one kiss would make you important enough to be awkward around.
It takes you an unbearable amount of time to finally speak, a feeble attempt to spark conversation. You feel almost childish asking, sheltered and naïve, but it was all you could think of discussing with him to ease this awkwardness between you two
“What is the Fire Nation like?”
You’ve been curious since Iroh returned from that first visit home, weighed down by spiced treats and beautiful formal garments. The Fire Nation felt to you like a far-off world, untouchable here in a land that hadn’t even been willing to acknowledge it when it had sent armies to its doorstep. You know Iroh would have happily talked of his homeland, but you had just never felt there was a good time to ask; to try and really understand who he and his nephew were. The lunch rush certainly wasn’t the time to ask your boss to divulge such personal things.
“Well, it’s much warmer, though I’m pretty sure you could already guess that much.” Zuko’s voice held no mocking tone, much to your relief.
“It’s a lot of urban area, especially in by the royal capital, shopping districts like this part of Ba Sing Sei. Our buildings are more Imperial style though, with bright red pillars and yellow roof tiles.” He glances sidelong at you, smiling softly with pride. “Lots of Dragon statues. And we throw lots of festivals, as a kid my favorite was the Solstice Revelry. Mother always had to keep me from eating too many spice cakes.”
“I think your uncle brought some of those home; I’d need to be cut off from them too, they were delicious.” Iroh had mentioned they were Zuko’s favorite, chuckling to himself as he reminisced on what you could now assume was an embarrassing story about Zuko eating too many sweets.
Zuko was laughing now too, a gentle sound tinged with embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he turns to you and asks, “Did he tell you about the time I tried to command a shop keeper to smuggle me more sweets after my mother asked the vendors to cut me off?”
“Now you have to tell me.” You grinned wickedly at the Fire Lord, eager to hear what was clearly a mortifying story. He grimaced half-heartedly, he was the one who brought it up, so it was only fair he tells you the whole story.
And he did. He confessed, face bright pink the entire time, that when he was a boy, he had eaten enough spice cakes to make himself sick. His mother had given the sweets vendors at next year’s festival strict instruction that he was not to be given any cakes.
“None at all?” you feigned horror, hand pressed dramatically to your chest. “How could they do that to you? Such disrespect!”
Zuko rolled his eyes at you, though the adorable awkward smile he had worn since he began the story stayed present on his lips. “That’s exactly what Azula said. That I couldn’t accept such coddling if I wanted to be respected as a member of the royal family; that it would be shameful to allow the vendors to refuse me service.” He shook his head, his raven hair swinging with the movement.
“I can’t believe I actually took her seriously, but I threw a whole fit at the next stall demanding that they not treat me like a toddler. It made me look even more childish than overeating the year before. Father was furious with me, I’ve never seen Azula look so pleased.”
You’ve done your best not to laugh as he’s been speaking; beneath your amusement you’re surprised he’s been willing to indulge you so far as to share such an embarrassing story. But when Zuko suddenly crosses his arms and halts, morphing his beautiful face into a pout, and begins to recreate his childhood attempt at a demand, you can’t contain yourself. He’s stomping his foot as he complains that he can’t be told no, he’s the Prince of the Fire Nation. You laugh so hard it hurts, and he doesn’t stop his ridiculous display until you’re doubled over and begging him to give you a break.
After minutes of gasping to regain your breath, you finally find your voice again. “Oh, I would have taken that to the grave. I can’t believe Iroh never told me that story.”
“I think he was trying to spare me the embarrassment of you having even more to poke fun at me for. Probably thought it would give me excuse not to visit the Jasmine Dragon.”
“I would have thought you didn’t need excuse to avoid returning to the city,” a slight frown tugs at the corners of your lips. “Didn’t think you would be inclined to visit a place you were miserable in.”
Zuko gave you no response, the silence once more taking weight as you creep slowly closer to the street your apartment was on. You’d likely overstepped in mentioning his discontent living in the earth kingdom, even if it was true.
“I always thought the stars in Ba Sing Sei were beautiful.”
The sound of Zuko’s voice cutting through the din of the night again surprised you. And even more surprising was the admission that he liked something about the city. The fondness in his voice. He had always seemed to harbor a quiet resentment of the city; one you had always attributed to struggling with life as a refugee.
“The stars?” You craned your neck to look up into the sky, at the glimmers of light floating in the ink pool above your heads. They were beautiful, but you couldn’t quite understand what made them any more special than the others in the sky.
“They’re so bright here; in the Fire Nation capital the lanterns are usually kept burning bright late into the evening, so the stars are harder to see. It was one of the things I liked most about this place, even if I would’ve never admitted then that I liked anything about living here.”
“Oh wow, I didn’t realize even the stars in the Fire Nation could be different.”
You finally turn your gaze from the sky to find that Zuko isn’t even looking at the stars. He’s staring at you, smiling like you’ve done something endearing. A betraying blush finds its way onto your face as you knead the back of your neck to ease the strain of twisting it to view the sky.
The two of you continue walking, the silence now a bit more comfortable. You manage to break it occasionally with talk of the shop, of Iroh, and complaints about the customers that come into the shop. Zuko listens like your voice is siren song, never taking his eyes off you. When you reach your apartment, he continues to chat idly with you at the doorstep, easing the anxiety you had been brewing that perhaps you had upset him.
“I missed that sound.” He says suddenly, barely a whisper.
You had been laughing at a joke he’d made about what a pain the Chamberlin would be as a customer. The air in your lungs seems to freeze, like risking a breath would erase the sound of those words. You’re not even sure if he meant for you to hear.
“I missed you.”
You’re almost appalled by the vulnerability of it, that you would confess such a thing so readily. You hadn’t expected to ever see him again, especially once you had been told who he really was, but his absence from the shop had felt massive. Even once Iroh had returned and you weren’t drowning so completely in the loneliness of being in the shop alone.
“I thought you had simply forgotten me in putting your life as Lee behind you. Seeing as you seemed to hate life here so much.”
“I never forgot you.” Zuko didn’t look hurt by your selfish complaint, which almost makes you feel worse. “Even if I was bitter and angry living here, it never meant I wanted to leave you behind. I was so angry because I was lost, I had to find my place in the world.”
He’s looking at you with such sincerity that it’s almost painful to meet his gaze.
“I found myself, I’m less angry now.”
His smile is cautious, like he’s afraid you might run from him. “It’s uh… actually part of why I chose to visit. I thought maybe now that I know who I am and where I belong in the world, I could be deserving of your time.You were another thing I always loved about Ba Sing Sei.”
You feel your mouth drop open. “What?” Your voice is barely a croak, your shock robbing it of any volume. Zuko scrubs awkwardly at the nape of his neck, smiling shyly down at your dumbstruck expression.
“I never really gave you an answer on going on that date you asked about. If I recall correctly, I reacted pretty poorly and then disappeared the next day.” You nod.
“If you’re willing to forgive my broody teenage self for that, I’d really like to have another chance.”
You want to respond, but your brain is short-circuiting. You open and close your mouth, still stunned, trying to force your vocal cords to produce sound. The word yes seems to lodge itself firmly in your throat, unwilling to rise any further, so you just nod again. The smile that takes over Zuko’s face is blinding.
“Amazing. You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this; seeing you again, I mean.”
“Really?” Your voice shakes pitifully, but Zuko still beams at you. “Really.”
“I’ve thought a lot about it too.” You feel sixteen again, blushing and mumbling like you’ve never spoken to a boy before.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to make you sick of me in one night, you should probably get to sleep.”
You unlock the door and turn to step into your home, but before you can shut it, Zuko calls your name. He hovers at the threshold of the apartment steps, brow furrowing briefly before he returns to you in the door frame and takes your hand in his. A whispered gasp escapes you as he presses his lips against your knuckles. Even after he had dropped your hand, the warmth of his touch lingered.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” The quiet awkwardness you had found so endearing as a teenager had crept its way back into Zuko’s voice. You nod, mute once more, watching as the Fire Lord retreated down the steps with an impish grin on his face.
“Wonderful, sleep well then.” He glances over his shoulder a few more times as his hulking figure shrinks into the distance; you stand there on the steps long past his departure.
summary: As the youngest child and sole daughter of a respected Fire Nation general, you have been desperate to prove yourself since the moment you were born — so when Azula offers you a spot on a mission from the Fire Lord himself, you accept without thinking.
But as you end up embedded in the front lines of the war your family has fought for decades, you begin to question everything you've ever known.
warning(s): lots of fire nation propaganda as reader comes from a military family. implied/past child abuse, anger issues, canon typical violence, r is weird about zuko and azula and they are weird abt her.
features endgame kataang, tyzula, and maiko
**note: though this is a reader insert so while i wont be describing her appearance much or even at all, reader is a traditional fire nation girl meaning i imagined her like that while i was writing this, and she has hair long enough to put in a topknot which is described in many chapters because we are all about our honor here!**
read on ao3 | spotify playlist lol i dont have the email for the atlabeth account anymore so i had to make a new one
inspired by traitor by @sokkascroptop, if you like this you will love traitor!
summary: you just want things to go back to normal. they don't.
a/n: reader in this chapter: oh avatar roku we're really in it now ! also a little longer than the previous chapters because i love writing the five of them together and got a little carried away! oh well
wc: 7.7k
warning(s): everyone is kinda mean including reader because they are all going through it. also more sokka pov! wow! who would've thought
i know sokka and r havent interacted in two and soon to be three chapters but trust me everything is moving as it should. also you're in slow burn central what do you expect
Sokka has never been so happy to be back at sea.
Just because he’s not a waterbender doesn’t mean it’s not his element. He feels freer, happier, more stable—and after what they just went through, he needs that stability more than ever.
After the Dai Li took you from the crystal caves, you didn’t come back. Not when Katara and Aang showed up to save him, not when Zuko turned on them to fight with his sister—not when Azula murdered Aang in the Avatar State with a bolt of lightning.
Katara was able to save him by some miracle with her magical spirit water, but after that, Aang was out. Sokka had to handle a lot of things as a big brother and the sole warrior in his tribe, but he didn’t know what to do here. Katara was inconsolable.
Even still, as they flew through the night with a deposed king and a nearly dead Avatar, Sokka found himself thinking of you.
Did you help take down Ba Sing Se from the inside? Had you betrayed them too? You were best friends with Azula, so it wouldn’t really surprise him. Just because you had a few great talks together didn’t mean you would leave your entire life for Sokka. He didn’t really expect you to, even if some illogical part of him kinda hoped it.
At least if you were back in the Fire Nation, he had a chance to see you again, no matter how slim. He could only hope you wanted to see him too—and that you were okay. Sokka knew those doubts you were having couldn’t be a good thing to go home with.
It’s a relief when they make it to Chameleon Bay and settle in with his people. Sokka hasn’t gotten to hug his father in years and he falls to pieces the second his dad wraps his arms around him. For once, Sokka doesn’t have to be in charge, and he doesn’t have the weight of everyone’s wellbeing on his shoulders. It’s selfish, but he’s thankful for it.
Even still, he can’t sleep. Aang doesn’t wake up despite constant healing sessions from Katara, Toph is going stir crazy stuck on a boat, Ba Sing Se has fallen, and they’re sailing in Fire Nation waters. Even when they take over a Fire Navy ship to stay undercover, he’s still constantly anxious about being found out. The world thinks the Avatar is dead, and that’s only a good thing if it’s not true.
“Can’t sleep?”
He looks over to see Katara walking over, and he sighs.
“Yeah. You can’t either?”
“I just finished up a healing session,” she says. “When it's night, I always come out here to think after.”
“That’s the third one today,” Sokka says. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”
“I’m all Aang’s got,” Katara says quietly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”
Sokka knows the feeling. He lets out another slow exhale as he looks up at the moon. Yue is always watching him, and though it used to be a comfort, these days it just makes him feel like more of a disappointment. He couldn’t save Yue, he couldn’t save Suki, he couldn’t save Aang—and now you’re just another mark on the list of Sokka’s many failures.
All Sokka has ever wanted to do is protect his loved ones like his father, with a smile and effortless confidence that gives his followers enough strength to run through walls. But the only one he has left is Katara, and she became stronger than him a long time ago.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Oh, you know. Things to do, places to go, worlds to save.”
“Uh huh. What are you really thinking about?”
Sokka chuckles. “Nothing can get past you, huh?”
“You know it,” Katara says. “Now spill.”
“…I met a girl.”
“Suki? Yeah, we all think you should go for it. She’s beautiful and smart and an incredible warrior—”
“Not Suki.”
“Oh. Who then?”
“Do you remember Azula’s friends?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that circus freak with the braid.”
“The other one.”
“The dark-haired gloomy one?”
“The other one.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “What? How?”
“You have to promise not to get mad.”
She stares at him. “You’re scaring me now.”
Sokka sighs and looks up at the sky for a moment before he’s able to speak.
“Remember that mango I got at the market after Omashu?”
She smiles. “You don’t really forget the best mango you’ve ever had.”
“…She was the one that gave it to me.”
Her smile drops immediately. “What?”
“She was kind of… at the market? And I kind of flirted with her but then she left really quickly after—”
“You what?” Katara cries. “Sokka! How could you not tell us?”
“Because I knew you would react like this!” Sokka defends. “It’s not like she did anything!”
“You couldn’t know that she wouldn’t! She could’ve hurt Aang!”
“Hey, I was the one that talked to her. Don’t you care that I could’ve gotten hurt?”
“Well, they weren't chasing us across the Earth Kingdom because they wanted to capture you.”
He frowns. “Rude.”
“So, what,” Katara marvels, “you talk to her one time where she doesn’t try to kill you and suddenly you’re smitten?”
“Okay, I am not smitten!”
“Then what are you?”
“Intrigued?”
“Great.”
“…And it wasn’t just the one time.”
“For the love of—” she hits him on the side of his arm. “What is wrong with you?”
“It was an accident!” Sokka exclaims.
“And I’m sure that would’ve meant so much if you accidentally got us all captured by the Fire Nation.”
“We were just meeting in tea shops!” he says. “I— I don’t know how, but I kept running into her, and she’s actually not that bad.”
“Well, she’s definitely back with Azula, so there’s no way that’s true,” Katara says. “You should focus on Suki. I like her.”
“Because I care so much about my sister’s opinion on this.”
“You should! I give really good advice about these things.”
Sokka rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That’s why I see you making eyes at Aang every time he does something incredible, and then you do nothing about it.”
Her face flushes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
She huffs, but her eyes soften as she looks back at him.
“You deserve good things, Sokka,” she says. “But she’s not good.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She spent the past month trying to kill us."
“But she felt bad about it.”
"Azula actually did kill Aang.”
"But she wasn't part of it."
“That doesn’t really mean much when she’s back in the Fire Nation with her terrible friends.”
“Maybe,” Sokka says. Katara sighs as she pats him on the shoulder.
“Just know that I’m here for you,, even if you're determined to make these awful decisions,” she says. “You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”
He smiles, and they stand in silence for a few moments before Sokka speaks.
“You know what’s funny?” he asks, and Katara hums in response. “I think the first year of my life was the worst year because I didn’t have you yet.”
She smiles. "Really?"
"I regret saying it already."
"It's too late," Katara grins. “But you know I’ll always be there for you, Sokka. No matter what.”
“Well, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon. So I guess you’ll always have me too.”
She laughs and punches him in the arm, and Sokka pulls away. “Ow! That hurt!”
“Which means you know I’m a whole lot stronger now,” Katara grins. “I can help you too, Sokka. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t think I ever could.”
-
If there’s one thing you missed while being away from the palace, it’s the gardens.
Perhaps the only untarnished place in all of Caldera City, you would run here each time you had a free moment between training or studying to sit by the pond and watch the turtleducks.
Now you’re older and wiser, and you still find nothing more calming than going by the water to watch the turtleducks.
They live such a simple life, floating and swimming and diving. They don’t have to deal with overwhelming expectations or moral quandaries or unwanted engagements.
You sigh as you fall back against the tree, glancing up at the sky. You have to figure out something, but you have no idea what to do.
Everything should be the way it used to be. You’re back at the palace with Zuko and Azula and Mai and Ty Lee. You’re praised as a war hero. Your father is even proud of you. But it all just feels… wrong.
Zuko is jumpier than usual, and he’s not half as angry as you about this farce of an engagement. Azula treats you more like a subject than a friend, your sparring sessions together more of a demand than anything. The servants cower in the shadows when you walk through the halls, if you’re even able to catch them at all, and they seem ridiculously shocked when you treat them with basic kindness.
You don’t even get to sleep in your old room because you’re soon to be part of the royal family. The mattress is too soft and the sheets are too stiff, and your body aches at night from being tense the entire day. Even the fruit tarts crumble to sand in your mouth.
Someone says your name and you flinch so hard you nearly bang your head against the tree you’re resting against—the servant you turn to looks terrified as she bows.
“I apologize immensely for the scare, my lady,” she says. “I— I was sent to fetch you. Prince Zuko and the painter are both waiting in the library for you.”
You have to bite back a groan. The reason you came out here was to avoid the stupid portrait session, but it turns out the whole palace doesn’t automatically forget you exist because you’re late.
“Are you sure I can’t just fake my death to get out of it?”
Her eyes widen slightly as she freezes, and you glance away. What has the Fire Lord done in these years to make these servants so afraid?
“I’m only joking,” you assure as you stand up. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.”
“Of course, my lady,” she says, nodding far too many times before she hurries off.
You take a deep breath in, then let it out slowly. A turtleduck looks at you from the pond and your shoulders sag.
“I wish I could be down there with you, little guy.”
-
You drag your feet the whole way to the library, choosing to take as many twists and turns as possible to delay the inevitable. When you finally make it, Zuko is arguing with the artist.
“—commanded you to do this, and you will listen!”
“I have a very busy schedule that your lady friend has messed up!”
“Well, clear it! You are a citizen of the Fire Nation, and you live to serve the Fire Lord!”
You clear your throat as you cross your arms, and Zuko flushes bright red when he sees you. “You’re late.”
“I got lost,” you say.
“In the palace?”
You shrug. “It’s big.”
Zuko huffs then turns back to the artist. “She’s here now. Can we start?”
The man rolls his eyes, but pushes his glasses back up as he sits down at his easel and empty canvas. Zuko walks over to you, and offers his hand, and you reluctantly take it to let him lead you over to your spots.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
You frown. “I was a few minutes late.”
“Try an hour.”
“I told you I got lost,” you say, and Zuko huffs again—but then he pauses.
“Why aren’t you wearing the new pin?”
Your brows furrow deeper and you resist the urge to touch your topknot. One of the Fire Lord’s advisors gifted you a new pin and flame to tie up your hair as an early wedding present, one that matches Zuko and Azula’s, but you shoved it in a random dresser drawer the first chance you got.
“I didn’t feel like it,” you finally say.
“You didn’t f—” Zuko stops and takes a deep breath and lets it out, then smiles at you. “Why not?”
“Because I like the old one,” you say defensively. “It was a gift from you, not a random Fire Nation noble.”
“It was a wedding gift,” he says lightly. “We need to match in our official portrait.”
“I don’t want to wear it,” you insist. “Why is it such a problem?”
“Because this needs to be perfect!” he snaps, and you flinch before you can help it. “My father finally trusts me again, and I’m not going to let you mess it up!”
You stare at him petulantly, but you have to ball your hands into fists to hide the shaking. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Zuko blinks, and then something shifts in his entire demeanor as he nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I— I don’t know what got into me.”
“Thank you,” you say, but you can’t meet his eyes for too long as you turn back to the artist. “I apologize for my tardiness. I will ensure you get paid for every second I have delayed you.”
The man sniffs haughtily, but you see some glint of appreciation in his eyes. “At least somebody in this city knows how to treat true artists.”
Zuko rolls his eyes, and you actually manage to smile as you sit down. Zuko rests his hand on the back of your chair, but the painter shakes his head.
“The future Fire Lord must be stoic and imposing, long may he reign, capable of standing on his own. The Fire Lady is just a lovely accessory.”
You immediately shoot up from your seat with fire in your eyes. You immediately regret your kindness. “What did you just say?”
Zuko whispers your name urgently and you reluctantly sit down, but your angry gaze doesn’t soften.
“What did you say your name was?” you ask.
“…Eisaku, my lady.”
“Do you paint many portraits, Eisaku?”
“I do. The nobility hires me most often.”
You hum. “Then I am sure the nobility would love to hear how their favored artist so casually disrespects the royal family. This could be classified as treason.”
He has the nerve to look away from you. “Prince Zuko—”
“Do not look at him when I am speaking to you,” you snap, and he bows his head with wide eyes.
“I submit my deepest apologies to my lady,” he rushes. “I deserve a thousand lashes, to be thrown atop a thousand mountain peaks, to—”
“Shut up,” you say, and he immediately stops, still unable to look at you. “If you disrespect me again, I will make sure you never take another step in this city. Test me again and I will ensure you are never able to paint again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. Now let’s get this over with.”
He listens this time, immediately starting to sketch an outline. You feel Zuko’s eyes on you, likely wondering what’s gotten into you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them.
-
You get a break after a few hours of posing, and you practically run out of there, Zuko on your heels as he calls your name. You don’t stop until you’re out of the palace and back into the gardens, and Zuko nearly barrels into you as he skids to a stop.
“What was that?” he questions with wide eyes.
“What was what?”
“At the start!” he exclaims. “Why were you treating the painter like that?”
“You’re asking me?” you marvel. “I heard you tell him that he has to do whatever you want because your dad is the Fire Lord.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I was already annoyed by you being late, and then he started talking about leaving before we’ve even started—” Zuko shakes his head then looks back at you. “You don’t act like that. Azula, sure, but not you.”
You shrug. “Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I’m finally the kind of girl that belongs here.”
Zuko stares at you, but when you don’t waver, he sighs and calls over a servant.
“Please bring us whatever we’ve got available in the kitchens. We would like to take lunch in the gardens today.”
He nods and hurries off, and Zuko sits down against the tree. You stay standing, and a few beats of silence pass before he speaks.
“This used to be my favorite place in the whole city when I was a kid,” he says, running his fingers through the grass. “The palace walls felt oppressive, and my father preferred not to see or hear me, so I spent way too much time out here watching the turtleducks hoping no one would notice I was missing.”
Your lips twitch up. “I like it too. It’s so calm compared to the rest of this place.”
Zuko smiles at you, but you don’t as you take a seat beside him and lean closer.
“Enough reminiscing. We need a game plan.”
He frowns. “What?”
“Our plan to get out of this!” you exclaim. “We’re engaged again, and your father is going to destroy the world. I’m fine to start figuring out either one.”
Zuko pauses, then he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think you’re in your right mind.”
You stare at him. “I hope you’re joking.”
“Why would I be joking?”
Your jaw clenches and you plant your hands on the grass to move closer, your eyes darting around to make sure you’re truly alone before you lower your voice. “Because we’re engaged again and your father is going to destroy the world, and you don’t think we need a plan to fix either of them.”
“He’s not going to destroy the world.”
“You can’t possibly think that.”
“Look,” Zuko says harshly, “I’m finally living the life that I have killed myself for—the life I’m destined for. I’m the crown prince. My father is finally proud of me again!”
“Your father is a warmongering maniac!” you whisper-yell, and Zuko’s gaze sharpens.
“Watch your mouth.”
“No,” you say, “no, I’m not going to watch my mouth. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re equals.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the crown prince. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“What is wrong with you?” you marvel. “Back in Ba Sing Se, you were so content—”
“Because I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to come home,” Zuko snaps. “You’re my fiancee and my friend— why aren’t you happy for me?”
“I’m not your fiancee,” you say stiffly.
“Well, what do you think is going to happen once summer ends?” he questions. “You can’t just say no to my father. I think I’m a pretty good example of what happens if you try.”
Your eyes drop to the ground as you shake your head. A few weeks ago, you were serving tea together and joking about how much you hate the world. He's trying so hard, but he’s nothing more than a poor replica of the Fire Lord—and you know his head must be growing heavy from the weight of the crown.
“Please,” Zuko begs, and he lowers his head trying to meet your gaze, “don’t be this way. As long as we're betrothed, I can protect you.”
You shake your head again as you rise on shaky legs, unable to even look at him.
“I don’t want your protection,” you spit. Zuko calls your name as you go, but you can’t leave quickly enough.
-
If you weren’t at the palace gardens as a child, you were here, venting your frustration and scorching the earth. Now, you certainly have some anger festering inside you to take care of.
The Fire Lord wants to control you, Zuko wants you to be someone you’re not, Azula is going to push you until you break, your father is proud of you for something you didn’t even do. Sokka hates you, the Avatar is dead, Ba Sing Se has fallen, you did absolutely nothing to stop it.
You punch and kick and flip and twist until your vision goes red, until your fists are smoldering and you’re nearly doubled over heaving labored breaths. No matter how good you are, you will never be as good as Azula. You will never be as good as your father. You will never ever ever be enough.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You exhale steam as your spine straightens, but your shoulders still rise and fall from the exertion as Azula stares you down from the stairs. You don’t know what she gets out of your torment.
“It’s far from paradise,” you manage.
She shrugs as she starts walking towards you. “I don’t know why you’re not more excited. Thousands of girls in the Fire Nation would kill to be in your shoes. You’re practically royalty now.”
You’ve never wanted to be royalty. It was your father’s promotion, not your own achievements that got you in the palace in the first place, and your too-hot temper that drew Azula’s eye. If you had it your way, you’d still be running rampant through the woods and sparring with your brothers.
“I’m very thankful for this opportunity,” you say lightly, and Azula doesn’t even pretend to believe you.
“What did my brother do now?” she asks.
“He didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, please. I know that look. I used to be the cause of it all the time when we were kids.”
You roll your eyes as you brush some ashes off your shoulder. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Azula.”
“You’ll tell me soon enough,” she says, then she tilts her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. You need to go clean up. We’re meeting Mai and Ty Lee at the harbor within the hour.”
You frown. You haven’t seen your friends since you got back to the Fire Nation, and a part of you is dreading seeing Mai again now that you and Zuko are engaged. They looked so happy on the ship together—or as happy as either of them can look—and now you’ve just gone and messed everything up.
“Where are we going?”
“Ember Island,” she says wryly. “Father is meeting with his advisors all weekend and he has requested solitude.”
“So we’re being shipped off on vacation like incompetent children.”
“Zuko said the same thing,” she muses. “I suppose his anger at the world is rubbing off on you.”
You roll your eyes. “My anger is entirely my own.”
“I’m sure.”
Azula turns on her heel and leaves, and fire shoots out the bottom of your hands as you ball them into fists and hurry after her.
-
“This is boring,” Mai grumbles.
You sigh as you watch children racing around the beach, playing in the water, and building sandcastles that Azula hasn’t gotten the chance to destroy yet. That was you and your friends just a few years ago, before you all became weapons to support the Fire Nation. You don’t remember the last time you just got to relax. Even now, your shoulders are nearly up to your ears.
“I don’t know,” you say. “I think it’s kind of nice.”
“You’re telling me after everything you’ve trained for, and everything we’ve helped Azula with, you’re content with just sitting around doing nothing?”
“Even elite warriors need days off, Mai.”
She rolls her eyes and slumps further into her chair. “I don’t know why you’re over here. You should be on top of the world right now.”
You wince. This is what you’ve been so afraid of. “Mai, you need to know I didn’t ask for this. The Fire Lord threw it on us without any warning.”
“I know,” she says, calmer than you expect. “You’ll make a good Fire Lady.”
“I don’t plan on letting it get that far,” you say lightly. “I know you and Zuko were reconnecting. I’m not going to get in the way of that. You can do whatever you want together.”
“How kind,” Mai deadpans, and you sigh.
“I won’t let this go through,” you insist. “Just… give me some time to figure something out.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem going against the Fire Lord’s will.”
“Your faith in me is inspiring.”
“Just stop looking so sad,” Mai says. “I know you don’t want to be here, but you can’t make it this obvious.”
Your eyes widen slightly as you look back at her. “Mai—”
“You’re still my friend, and I still care about you. I’m not going to let Zuko get in the way of that.”
You smile. “...Thank you. I care about you too.”
Mai rolls her eyes, which is the equivalent of a smile. Zuko comes back with two ice cream cones in his hand, and he holds one out to Mai.
“I got this for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s so hot, I thought it would be refreshing.”
The scoop falls on her lap and Zuko grimaces.
“Thanks,” Mai says wryly. “This is really refreshing.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” you say, pulling your cover-up tighter around yourself to make sure your back is hidden. Ty Lee insisted you had to wear that super cute red two piece that makes you look so good, and you guess it's cute, you don’t really feel like being an eyesore today.
Ty Lee is laying on a towel with a group of men surrounding her, one blocking the sun and two others fanning her. You chuckle as you walk over and cross your arms.
“Alright, boys,” you say, “party’s over.”
They stare at you blankly, but when Ty Lee nods and shoos them off, they reluctantly walk away. You raise your eyebrows.
“Less than an hour at the beach and you’ve already got your own entourage?”
“All the boys here are really nice!” she exclaims.
“I think they’re all just in love with you,” you say, and Ty Lee shrugs.
“It’s a nice change of pace,” she says. “Besides, it’s not my fault they’ll do anything I say.” She smiles up at you. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” you say breezily, and Ty Lee scoots over on her towel so you can sit beside her. “Just watching my life fall apart in front of me.”
Ty Lee frowns. “I heard about the engagement. I’m so sorry.”
“You know, you’re the first person not to tell me I should be happy.”
“Well, you don’t like Zuko, right? You like that Water Tribe boy.”
Your face heats inexplicably as you hit her shoulder. “Don’t say that so loud!”
“Because it’s true?” she teases with a grin.
“Because it’s not,” you say as gently as possible, “and I don’t want you putting that idea into anyone’s head.”
“Fine,” she says, but her smile only grows. “If you tell me what you talked about in the marketplace, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Ty Lee—”
“I know, I know! But I have six sisters, and I never broke any promises they told me. You know I’m trustworthy.” Her eyes soften and you know what she really means—she won’t rat you out to Azula.
“…He flirted with me. That’s how we ran into each other. He came up to me and said my eyes were pretty, but he freaked out once he recognized me.”
Ty Lee squeals as she rocks you back and forth by the shoulders so hard you get dizzy.
“I knew he liked you back!” she exclaims. “Oh, I knew by the way you fought each other! It was like dancing!”
“He can’t like me back if I don’t like him in the first place,” you insist, finally getting her to let you go. “And lower your voice!”
“I’m sorry! It’s just so exciting! I mean, the only boy you’ve ever been involved with is Zuko and you don’t even like him—”
“And I don’t like Sokka either,” you interrupt. "That's a very important part of it."
“Ladies! Over here!”
Your heads both snap over to where Azula standing on the edge of netted court, and you actually smile as you and Ty Lee walk over, quickly joined by Zuko and Mai. If there’s one thing you can do today, it’s destroy some pompous teenagers in kuai ball.
-
You win in a very fiery display that nearly destroys the court and the net and ruins everyone’s fun. But it turns out after actually fighting for your life for the past few months, sports don’t really do it for you anymore.
But after two impressively haughty boys invite Ty Lee, you and Mai to a party—and later the rest of them when Azula asks very nicely, because he somehow doesn’t recognize the two most important teenagers in the Fire Nation—you leave the beach early to get ready.
Mai is lining her eyes sharp enough to kill as you brush out Azula’s hair, and Ty Lee is kneeling in front of the mirror braiding her hair. Zuko got ready in about five minutes and has now resorted to sulking against the wall.
“You should wear your hair down like this more often, Azula. It suits you.”
“A topknot suits me far better,” she says tartly, though her shoulders relax a bit. “…But thank you.”
“Any time."
“Why are we even going to this stupid thing?” Zuko complains. “Those idiots already disrespected us once. We shouldn’t reward them by going to their party.”
“Come on, Zuko, it’ll be fun!” Ty Lee exclaims. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to do something normal together.”
“Yeah,” you say. “In a few days, you can go back to stomping around the palace.”
He scoffs. “I’m doing another lap around the house. You all better be ready before I get back.”
He slams the door when he leaves and you roll your eyes. “Such a temper.”
“I truly don’t know what you see in my brother, Mai.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re related.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
You chuckle as you tie a portion of her hair into a small ponytail, then smooth out the rest so it falls down her back. “You’re good to go, Azula.”
She looks in the mirror and her eyes widen slightly before she clears her throat. “It’s adequate for a party like this.”
You still smile, because in Azula’s words that’s akin to a shower of compliments. You don’t think she gets to feel pretty like this very often.
And yet you still feel sick. You’re sitting around here with your friends laughing and getting ready like everything is normal, but it’s not.
You turned your back on them, and would have betrayed them even more if Azula didn’t threaten to murder Sokka. She’s the one that suggested an engagement she knows you don’t want—and you’re just sitting here doing her hair like it never happened.
You only snap out of it when Mai says your name loud enough to break through your haze and you look up at her.
“What?”
“Do you want me to do your makeup or not?”
-
You feel wildly out of place in this party, from your uncomfortably fancy clothes to the uncomfortably rich kids who have never worked a day in their lives. Sure, the five of you are uncomfortably rich, but you've all trained from the second you were born. You don't think half these kids could beat an toddler in an Agni Kai.
Even still, all you can think about is Sokka’s story, how his tribe was practically decimated from Fire Nation raids—how he’s the only warrior left in his village after his mother was killed and the men were forced to go off to war.
The world is slowly dying of a poison your people, your family created, and here you are on vacation on a resort island surrounded by endlessly hideous displays of opulence.
It’s like you’ve been asleep your entire life, and now that you’ve been jarred awake you can’t go back down.
You refuse to.
There’s a sharp jab in your side and you come back into yourself to see Ty Lee saying your name.
“Come on, you have to pay attention! Those boys have been looking at you this whole time— oh, oh they’re coming over now!”
You groan. “Not interested.”
Ty Lee grabs your arm before you can leave and you don’t even try to look welcoming as two boys stop in front of you. One’s tall and slim with an easy smile, and the other is a little more filled out with toned arms that he clearly wants to show off.
“Hey,” the strong one says, barely even passing a cursory glance at you as he grins, “it’s Ty Lee, right?”
“It is!” she exclaims. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he says. “Do you think you can guess mine?”
You couldn’t roll your eyes harder if you tried. The boy in front of you turns the full force of that charming smile on you and tilts his head towards the buffet.
“Want to get some food? I heard the potstickers are incredible.”
You know he’s just trying to get you away from Ty Lee so his friend can try a move on her, but you honestly don’t care. You’re starving, and Ty Lee could take down this entire party with her chi-blocking if she had to.
“I’ll see you later,” you say, touching her arm, and she nods with a grin. You hope she doesn’t expect you to get anywhere with this guy, because you’re incredibly uninterested.
You start walking over to the tables together, and he immediately starts running his mouth.
“So, what brings you here tonight?”
“I know you’re just with me so your friend can talk to Ty Lee,” you say flatly, spooning some berries onto your plate. “We don’t have to make it believable.”
“That’s not true,” he says. When you give him an unimpressed look, he chuckles. “I mean, yeah, my friend is into your friend, but I’m into you. You’re seriously hot.”
“Is that a firebender joke?”
“It’s a sincere compliment,” he says wryly, and you glance away as your face heats. “I’m Hiro.”
You glance back at the table and he leans down with you. “It’s fine if you’re not much of a talker. I can handle the conversation for both of us.”
“So you’re just going to talk to yourself the whole time?”
He shrugs. “My sister hates me and my dad’s been fighting this war since I was a kid. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
Your brows crease. “That’s the first interesting thing you’ve said.”
Hiro laughs. “Well, if I knew you were interested in my pain, I would’ve led with that.”
“That’s not what I mean,” you say, and he continues to walk with you as you go over to a quiet corner. “My brother’s in the Navy, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him since he became a captain."
“I guess we already have something in common,” he says with a smile. “Are you gonna enlist?”
“I would be seasick every day for the rest of my life,” you frown. “I had my heart set on the army, but…”
“But what?”
“But now I’m not so sure,” you admit, and you wonder why you’re telling this total stranger something you’ve barely been able to admit to yourself.
“You should go for it. I can feel it in my heart that you’d make a great warrior…”
He’s obviously fishing for your name, and you decide to throw him a bone and give it to him—but when you do, his face falls.
“Oh, no. You’re Prince Zuko’s girlfriend.”
The words make you want to hurl, but instead you just shake your head. “What? No, I’m not. Why would you say that?”
“Because the entire capital city got invitations to the wedding,” he says with a frown. “And he’s looking at you right now.”
You turn to see Zuko watching you across the room, and you give him a murderous look. He holds up his hands in defense and goes back to talking with Mai on the couch, and you huff a sigh.
“We’re not together,” you say. “We’re just betrothed.”
“…That sounds like the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“Does that mean I can flirt with you without getting a fireball to the face?” Hiro asks.
“Absolutely,” you say. “And if he tries, I’m a lot stronger than him.”
“You’re stronger than the prince of the Fire Nation?”
“You’d better believe it,” you say. “But don’t tell anyone who we are, or you’ll get to experience it. I think this is the first time he and his sister haven’t been recognized somewhere like this.”
He grins. “Your wish is my command, your majesty.”
You roll your eyes but you can’t fully bite back your smile. Maybe meaningless drivel isn’t the worst way to spend your night when it’s with a pretty boy.
-
For some reason, you end up spilling your guts to Hiro.
You tell him all your doubts (except for the treasonous parts) and about your mission with Azula (except for the treasonous parts), and in turn he makes you privy to a childhood that sounds even lonelier than yours was.
You’re never going to see this boy again, so maybe that’s why. He has no preconceived notions about you, he just thinks you’re pretty. Just like Sokka did that day at the marketplace.
It’s truly a mystery why your thoughts keep going back to Sokka. After what Zuko and Azula did, he will never forgive you for going along with them. It’ll be a miracle if you ever see him again.
But your inner turmoil is interrupted when you hear Ty Lee yell your name across the room and you wince.
“You’ve got some dedicated friends,” he says.
“Don’t get me started.”
Ty Lee and Mai break through the crowd of people and she immediately starts tugging you by the arm.
“Come on,” Ty Lee urges. “We have to go!”
You throw your hand up in a half-hearted wave that Hiro returns, and you twist around so you can look between at her again.
“Why? I’m finally starting to not hate this party.”
“Zuko was an idiot and got kicked out,” Mai grumbles. “Every time I think things are going well with him, he has to go and ruin everything.”
You sigh. Zuko’s temper is going to be the death of him.
You find Zuko and Azula on their way to the beach, and soon you’re all sitting around a bonfire on the beach that Zuko started with an old portrait of the royal family, wondering how this night went so wrong.
Even now, when your friends are fighting and insulting and pushing each other’s buttons until they break, all you can offer is half-hearted protests trying to get them to stop. Maybe all you’re good for is fighting. Maybe it’s the mistake of your life to think you can ever be good.
You’re jarred out of your thoughts when Zuko yells, and you recoil instantly when the fire erupts. It’s too close, too hot, too angry and for a split second you’re back home—bedridden for days, drifting in and out of feverish nightmares, feeling like the smallest person in the world. It takes Azula saying your name to break out of your haze.
“What’s gotten into you?” she questions.
“Yeah,” Ty Lee says with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Of course she’s not,” Zuko huffs as he drops to the ground, crossing his legs. “She’s engaged to me, which is apparently the worst thing in the world.”
“Don’t be so self-centered,” you scoff. “Not everything’s about you, Zuko.”
“Then what is it about?” Mai asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have to,” Azula says. “You don’t get to keep your secrets when we’ve all spilled ours.”
You expect that usual sharp glint in her eye, but she looks much more genuine than you expect. She truly wants to know why you’re not doing well—beyond the obvious, at least.
"I don't have secrets."
"If you're going to lie, at least make it believable," Mai says.
"We're here for you!" Ty Lee adds.
“...I just feel so alone,” you admit quietly.
“You’re with all of us,” Zuko scoffs. “How can you possibly feel alone?”
“Because I still feel like I’m not even here!” you exclaim. “I mean, all my life, I have been doing what other people want. I pushed myself in firebending because my father demanded it. I trained with a sword because mastering firebending wasn’t good enough for him. I stayed at the palace because the Fire Lord demanded it, I went back to my father’s camp because he demanded it, and I even went on your stupid Avatar hunt because you demanded it, Azula! I have never, ever done a single thing for myself, and the second I tried to I just ended right back where I started! I’m so sick and tired of living for everyone but myself!”
Angry tears pool in your eyes as your voice breaks, your last few shouts echoing off the rock walls surrounding you. You didn’t mean to go so far, to insult Azula and her mission and worst of all the Fire Lord, but to your surprise, Azula only tilts her head.
“It’s about time you stood up for yourself.”
You sniff and wipe the tears that break through off your cheeks, but the few you miss splatter onto the sand as you cross your arms and lean forward until they rest on your legs.
“You’re more powerful than your dad now anyways,” Mai says. “Just challenge him to an Agni Kai and prove it.”
“I’m not challenging my father to an Agni Kai.” Inadvertently, your eyes flick over to Zuko and he looks away.
“You should,” Azula says. “You’d win.”
“Whatever,” you mutter.
Ty Lee bounds over and pulls you into a hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her.
“You’re not alone,” she says, pulling back so she can look you in the eye. “We’ll always be here for you.”
You smile weakly. If they knew the doubts that festered in your mind like an open wound, they would never forgive you.
“Thanks, Ty Lee. You’re the best.”
She grins, and then it turns slightly mischievous. “I mean, you’re clearly not alone. That boy was flirting with you all night!”
Azula’s eyebrows rise. “You’re cheating on my brother?”
“Wait,” Zuko says with barely restrained mirth, “you’re cheating on me?”
“Well, you’re cheating on me with Mai,” you say, as you look over at her. “I saw you two getting cuddly on that chaise.”
She grimaces. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“Which one? Cuddly, or chaise, or you and Zuko getting cuddly on a chaise?”
Mai groans and stands up. “I’m going back to the house.”
“No, wait!” Ty Lee exclaims. “You can get cuddly with Zuko in the sand too! The fire’s still warm!”
“I hate you all.”
Ty Lee continues terrorizing Mai as she chases her up the hill, and Azula actually cracks a smile.
“I’m going back to the house,” Zuko grumbles. “You girls are crazy.”
“See you soon,” you say, and he nods as he starts walking back up to the house. You feel Azula’s gaze on you instantly, and you brace for impact.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she says instead.
You meet her eyes, molten gold in the fire light. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” she insists. “You used to never shut up about becoming a great soldier and making your family proud and being the best firebender in the world. You were the first person to come to mind when I wanted to put a team together.”
“We’re not kids anymore,” you say. “I’ve grown up.”
“So you’re telling me if I asked you to go on another mission with me, you would say no?”
You hate how Azula can stare right into your soul. She peels back all the layers of your skin until she gets to your psyche, most of the twists formed by her words.
“I just need a break,” you say. “It was my first time leaving the Fire Nation, and it was just… a lot.”
“The reason I push you is because you turn into something beautiful under pressure,” Azula says. “You bend, but you never break. I push and you push back.”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of pushing.”
Normally, you’re never this brazen with Azula. You love her, she loves you, you’re best friends—but she is still the Fire Princess, and she is still your superior. She doesn’t even need to lift a finger to tear your life to shreds any time she desires.
But she doesn’t. And maybe that’s a form of love on its own—having all the power in the world, but never using it to hurt you.
She’s silent for a moment, both of you watching the other but never moving. Eventually, she sighs.
“Your father said he would arrange a night together with you and your Navy brother once he returned from Ba Sing Se. Correct?”
You frown, not really sure what this has to do with anything, but nod anyways.
“As a reward for such excellent work, I will pull a few strings and ensure your father returns within the week.”
Your eyes widen slightly, your spine straightening immediately. “Are you serious?”
“Always.” Her gaze drops for a moment before it meets yours again. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m only sorry it took you leaving for me to realize it.”
Your throat closes up. All you’ve thought about since getting here was how you could leave again. Every time you think about betraying Azula, she sends you into the depths of guilt and makes it impossible to even consider.
She’s always two steps ahead of you. She has to know. But when you look in her eyes, you can’t sense any hint of deceit. For some reason, that makes it all worse.
You swallow the doubt in your throat and press your shaking hands into your skirt. “Thank you. You’re my best friend too.”
Azula smiles. It’s fully genuine, and it feels like a death sentence.
summary: you really, really hate being a waitress.
a/n: enjoy one whole chapter of the food service arc before everything goes to shit! anecdotes inspired by my first job as a chain restaurant server lmao. i do not recommend! anyways enjoy a whole chapter of zuko! i had a lot of fun writing them together lol
wc: 4.1k
warning(s): none
“Wait up!”
Zuko yells your name, but you don’t listen to him. You’re so embarrassed you can barely stand to look at him, let alone talk to him after what your fathers just told you.
“Go away!” you shout. It doesn’t work, because you still feel his loud footsteps chasing you. Azula told you Zuko was weak, but now that you’ve been at the palace for nearly a year, it’s very clear he’s stubborn as a hippo ox.
“Don’t you think it’s important that we—”
“I don’t want to talk!”
“We need to!”
He catches up to you right as you round a corner and spreads his arms to block you.
“Seriously?”
“We need to talk,” Zuko says as you cross your arms. “You can’t just run away from it.”
“Why not?”
“Because a betrothal isn’t something you can run away from.”
Your face heats as you look away. You kept your composure well enough when Prince Ozai and your father told you and Zuko that you would marry once you were of age, but now that it’s just you and your betrothed, you want to run away and never look back. “I don’t understand why it’s me.”
“Your father was just promoted to general,” he says. “That’s probably why.”
“Is that why I’ve been here so often?” you question. “Not because of my talent, but because I’m just the best person to marry you off to?”
Zuko flushes. You think he’s handsome, sure. He has golden eyes and a bright smile and a kindness that is rare in Caldera City—but that doesn’t mean you want to marry him.
Honestly, you don’t even like being at the palace that much. You miss your father’s training camp in the middle of the woods, where you could play by the stream and spar with your brothers before it actually meant something—before your firebending became your whole life.
Zuko is one of your best friends, but you don’t know why your father thinks that means you want to marry him. You think Azula is just as pretty as Zuko and you don’t want to marry her.
“You’re an incredible firebender,” he says. “I hear my grandfather talking about you and Azula the same way.”
“Really?” you ask, perking up.
“Really,” he nods.
“…Good,” you say. “At least I’m not a complete fraud.”
“You’re not a fraud at all,” he insists. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out. My mother said I shouldn’t.”
“It’s okay,” you sigh as your gaze drops to the floor. “It’s nothing against you, I promise. It’s just… so sudden.”
“Maybe this could make it better,” he says. “Mother helped me pick it out for you.”
You look up to see he’s holding out a pin with a small flame, the sort that you use to hold your topknot up. It’s a beautiful polished gold, similar to the ones he and Azula wear.
“Really?”
Zuko nods, looking slightly sheepish. “I know you don’t want to marry me, and I know you can’t refuse, but I think you’re really nice. I want to make this as easy as possible for you.”
You smile as you pick it up, tilting it in the light. “It’s beautiful.”
“I think you are too,” he says softly, and you feel your cheeks heat. “I can put it in for you, if you want.”
You nod and take your current pin out. Your father gave it to you when you were younger, once your hair was long enough to put up, and you’ve never once changed it. You’re not really allowed to care about things like vanity.
His fingers brush your neck as he gently gathers your hair into a topknot and ties it off with his gift.
“Okay, you can turn around now.”
You do, and Zuko’s eyes widen.
“Well?” you ask. “How do I look?”
“Really nice,” he stammers. “Like, really, really, really nice.”
You feel your cheeks heat and you look at the ground with a smile.
“…I guess there are worse people to marry.” You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, and his face flushes bright red. “Thank you, Zuko.”
-
“Wake up.”
“Five more minutes,” you grumble.
“I already gave you ten! Now wake up or I’m sending you back to Azula!”
That gets you up rather quickly. Zuko gives you a smug smile as he holds out a folded apron.
“Welcome to your first day of honest work.”
“Is it too late for you to just throw me out on the streets?”
“As tempting as it is, yes. Now get ready and be downstairs in ten minutes. Half the dining room is already full.”
You reluctantly take the apron from Zuko and he leaves the room. Part of you wants to go back to bed, but the other part remembers that the two of them really did not have to do this for you, and you stand up with a sigh.
Iroh told you they just got the apartment last week when they signed the lease on the tea shop, so you’re impressed how cluttered Zuko’s room has already become. But you suppose you can’t really make fun of him for it, especially when he let you have the bed last night.
At least his face isn’t half as gaunt anymore, and his hair has grown to a decent length. Being around Iroh has always been good for him.
You get dressed rather quickly seeing as only one other outfit would fit in your bag. You comb out your hair with your fingers, tie half of it up in a ponytail once more, then walk out to an entirely different kind of doom.
You’ve just finished tying your apron over your dress when you hear Iroh’s voice from the dining room.
“And there she is right now!” Please, come join us!”
You shoot him a death glare, but it does little to discourage Iroh as he brings you over to where he’s talking with a customer.
“This is my lovely niece, who has just joined us here at the Jasmine Dragon! Introduce yourself, please!”
Your eyes widen for a split second before you plaster on a smile. “Uh, yeah, I’m… Jasmine.”
The man’s eyebrows rise. “You’re named after the shop?”
“The tea!” you exclaim, because that was so incredibly stupid but now you have to commit. “But— uh, Uncle named the shop after me. I guess I’m just that good of a niece!
You hold your too-wide smile that can’t possibly be convincing, but the customer buys it anyway.
“Well, I’m happy to support a local family-owned business.” He drops a couple silver pieces in the tip jar and smiles at you. “I have a son your age who would love to talk with you. Maybe I’ll bring him in tomorrow.”
You nod just so he’ll go away, and you turn to Iroh once he leaves the shop.
“Why would you do that to me?” you ask stiffly.
“Because now no one doubts that you belong here,” Iroh says with a grin. “And it is a success story! A simple tea-making family, who rose above the walls of Ba Sing Se to run their very own tea shop in the Upper Ring!”
You hate this. You hate this so, so much.
“Wow,” Zuko says with a wry laugh in your direction, “not even five minutes here and someone’s already throwing their son at you.”
You cross your arms. “I don’t think you can say that when you were the son thrown at me a couple years ago.”
He scoffs. “You were the one thrown at me!”
“I don’t really remember it that way.”
“Maybe it isn’t too late to throw you out onto the streets.”
“Nephew!” Iroh yells, who is already back to brewing. “There is hot tea to run!”
His face flushes bright red as he goes over and picks up the tray—you stick your tongue out as he walks away.
“That goes for you too, Jasmine!”
-
Once your shift starts, you barely get a chance to breathe. You have absolutely no idea how Iroh made this place so popular, but you’re serving tea all through the morning rush and the lunch rush.
Eventually, only a few people are lingering in the dining room, so Zuko starts teaching you how to brew tea the right way at Iroh’s request. He’s explaining things to you, but you’re not really listening, and somehow, he picks that up.
You feel a sharp pain in your side and look up at Zuko, who’s already staring at you.
“What was that for?” you complain as you rub the sore spot.
“You’re supposed to be paying attention,” Zuko says. “Have you already forgotten you work here?”
“I wish I could,” you say. “I mean, how have you been doing this for so long? This is so…”
“Fulfilling?”
“Humilitating,” you grumble. “Just because I don’t want to go back to the Fire Nation doesn’t mean I want to be a waitress. I’m an elite warrior! I’m one of the best firebenders in the world!”
“And I’m a prince. But table 5 needs a refill.”
“I thought you were teaching me tea!”
“The customer always comes first,” he says. He fills a teapot with freshly brewed ginseng and holds it out with a smile.
You huff as you take it. “Is this really all we do?”
“Pretty much.” Zuko tilts his head. “I fought a customer once, but that’s the exception.”
You groan, looking out at the nearly empty dining room. “I hate this, and I hate you.”
“I’m sure. You have three people at table 7.”
“Is it too late for me to quit?”
“I’ve quit about fifty times, but Uncle never takes it. Now go do your job.”
And that’s how you spend the entire day—serving tea to Earth Kingdom patrons who have no idea that some of the Fire Nation’s top agents are behind it.
You’re immensely thankful to Iroh and Zuko for letting you stay with them, but for the love of Agni, this work is beneath you. At least Azula values your skills—Iroh doesn’t even give you the best section.
You’re quickly learning that you hate the general public, though.
A man five times your age tells you to smile more, which makes you briefly consider exposing your firebending.
A woman asks for lychee juice, and when you tell her that you only sell tea, she gets snippy with you. She says you’ve done it for her before, and when you tell her that you literally just opened, she demands to speak to your manager.
On more than one occasion, customers snap at you to get your attention—one man even grabs your arm to get you to stop, but he doesn’t really like it when you superheat your skin.
That one gets Iroh to put you on your break, especially when the man yells very loudly about his burned hand and the very rude waitress that definitely spilled hot tea on him on purpose.
By the end of the night, you’re honestly considering going back to Azula to beg for forgiveness as you wipe down a table.
Then Iroh says your name, and you turn around. “Yes?”
“You did very well on your first day,” he says. “Why don’t you and Zuko go get dinner together as a reward?”
“I didn’t get a reward for doing very well on my first day in the old shop,” Zuko says, but you roll your eyes.
“Thank you, Iroh,” you say louder than Zuko, and he chuckles.
“Zuko, be a gentleman and handle the bill.”
“Uncle— hey!”
You grab Zuko’s hand and start dragging him out of the shop. “We’ll see you later!”
“You complain about the job, you complain about the shop, but you’re perfectly fine taking my hard-earned money!”
“Like you didn’t take some from the palace before you left.”
“I didn’t really need money when I had the support of the throne,” he grumbles. “But then somebody had to go and make us fugitives.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” you say. “Azula came and picked me up after you got away.”
“You were still chasing us,” Zuko says. “The bruises I got after you tackled me only healed a few days ago.”
“It’s not my fault I’m stronger than you,” you say, and then you frown. “We’re on the same side now anyways, so does it really matter?”
“Are we?” Zuko questions. “Or are you just going to run right back to Azula the second she asks you to?”
That blows the wind right out of your sails, even if you try to hide it. “She’s not going to.”
“When did you become so delusional?”
“Can you stop?” you ask. “I’m going through a really hard time right now, if you couldn’t tell.”
“We’re all going through a hard time,” Zuko says. “Besides, which one of us is the fugitive?”
You roll your eyes and continue in silence. You don’t really feel like arguing with Zuko right now—but he doesn’t get the hint.
“I mean, you would already be halfway to the Fire Nation right now if you didn’t stop at the Jasmine Dragon. If I tried to go back home, Father would kill me where I stand.”
“Do you have to make it a competition?”
“It kinda is one, so yeah.”
You stop in your tracks, and Zuko bumps into you when he doesn’t catch it quick enough.
“What’s your problem?” he complains.
“What’s your problem?” you snap. “I— I thought you would be happy to see me again. It’s only the second time in four years. I thought about you basically every day you were gone.”
His brows crease, his eyes softening. This close, you can see how his scarred side has barely any movement. You can’t believe his own father did that to him. Your father might be harsh, but he’s always avoided your face.
“…I thought about you a lot too,” he admits. “I was worried you wouldn’t be taken care of after our engagement was dissolved.”
You shrug. “I was already at my father’s camp, so I just stayed there. I went back to the palace every once in a while, but it wasn’t the same without you. I just wish you would’ve written every once in a while.”
Zuko frowns. “I did. I wrote at least one letter every few months.”
“Well, I didn’t get any,” you say. “Maybe you got the location wrong.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”
You continue walking until you reach a night market, and you agree to each get two things so you can share then meet by the fountain. You get a pile of steamed pork buns and egg custard tarts, and Zuko brings back two steaming bowls of spicy, hand-pulled noodles along with a small box of candied orange wedges. You don’t realize how hungry you are until you start digging in, but you frown at the bowl of noodles.
“I thought you said this was spicy!”
“It’s supposed to be! I asked for extra spice!”
You huff. “That’s one thing the Fire Nation does right, at least. I miss having fire flakes on demand. Some of the food here is as flavorful as dirt.”
Zuko smiles, and then it fades a bit. “Could I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What made you leave Azula?”
You frown. “Way to go for it.”
“You said shoot.”
You sigh as you set down your chopsticks. “I don’t think it was one single thing. I’ve been having doubts about this mission since it started.”
“Those doubts didn’t really stop you from fighting me in the desert.”
“Will you get over that?” you complain. “You fought me too, and you don’t see me still caught up about it.”
“Fine,” he says, but you know he’s going to hold it over you for at least a few more weeks. You roll your eyes.
“We were fighting innocent people the whole time. I mean, the Avatar’s just a kid.” Your eyes fall to the ground as you drag your shoe across the dirty tiles. “I think the first crack in everything was when she tried to kill Iroh.”
Zuko shakes his head, and you see his jaw clench. “She almost did.”
“And I didn’t do anything about it,” you sigh. “That was what made me realize I couldn’t keep blindly following orders. I’m only sorry it took me this long.”
You smile at him. “It’s worth a lot, actually. I’m really glad we’re together again.”
He actually manages a smile back at you. “Me too.”
You both eat some more in silence, trying each other’s surprisingly good dishes. You only wish you had some fire flakes. Mai always carried extra.
The thought of her makes you feel a bit nauseous, and you put your bowl down. You went almost the entire day without thinking about them, mostly because all your thoughts back at the tea shop were about how much you hated your job.
“Can I ask you something?”
Zuko smiles a bit. “Shoot.”
“...What would you do?” you ask quietly.
“What?”
“You asked me what I would do if Azula asked me to come home.” You tilt your head to look at him, and his entire expression has hardened. “What would you do?”
Zuko sits in silence for a good few seconds as he stares down at the ground. From what gossip you overheard from your father’s soldiers, you’re pretty sure he’s been on the run since Admiral Zhao’s failed assault on the Northern Water Tribe. You can’t imagine how hard his fall from honor has been on him—after all, you’ve been working in a tea shop for one day, and you’re already considering going back to the Fire Nation.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “And I hope I don’t have to find out.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, but you both know you’re lying to each other. “Me too.”
-
The rest of the night goes by smoother than it started. You get an extra order of baozi for Iroh, but after you give them over, you go right to sleep.
Or at least, you try to.
You figured you would conk right out, but instead you find yourself staring at the ceiling even after Zuko’s asleep on the cot beside you. You’re a little miffed that you were struggling the entire day to stay awake, but now that you have the chance, you might have to resort to counting koala sheep.
You huff and decide to get up. You haven’t counted koala sheep since you were a kid, and you’re not about to start again now.
The moon is high in the night sky as you peer out the window, and you use the light to carefully and quietly open the door to go down the fire escape. The absolute last thing you want to do now is wake up Zuko.
There’s a small, fenced-in courtyard behind the tea shop, and you take a seat on the bottom steps and stare up at the stars. In Ba Sing Se, there’s so much light pollution that you have to squint to make out anything. Back at your father’s training camp, the sky was crystal clear and full of constellations. Before Lee went to join the Yuyan Archers, you used to spend hours lying in the plush grass staring at the constellations.
Your heart pangs at the thought. You hope your brothers don’t think less of you when they find out what you’ve done.
“Can’t sleep?”
You look up to see Zuko standing in the doorframe, and you frown.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep either. I don’t think I’ve gotten a full night since I left the Fire Nation.”
Your lips part, but no words come out. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to formulate the right apology, something to tell Zuko how sorry you are for what he’s been through—and how sorry you are for being part of it.
Instead, you just manage a smile. “Join me?”
His lips twitch, and he walks down the steps to join you. You stargaze in silence for a good while, before Zuko nudges you with his elbow.
“This reminds me of the gardens.”
You huff a laugh. “Sure. Just missing the best part, though.”
“The turtleducks,” he sighs. “When I get back to the Fire Nation, they’re the first thing I’m going to see.”
Your eyebrows rise as you glance at him. “‘When’?”
Zuko sighs and tilts his head back, looking at the stars for a few seconds before he speaks.
“I know we’re wanted fugitives. Logically, I can never go back. And I’m finally happy with my life here. But a small part of me still hopes that somehow, everything can go back to normal.”
“I get it,” you say softly. “It’s hard to let go of. Especially compared to the lives we have now.”
Zuko cracks a smile. “Something tells me you don’t really like being a waitress.”
Agni, that’s an understatement. You have never once had to smile and nod when someone less intelligent than you is lying to your face, but apparently that’s how you keep customers. They shouldn’t even be allowed to talk down to you—and certainly not to your face. You don’t know how Zuko stands it.
“Let’s just say I’ve considered going back to Azula more than once,” you say wryly, then you pause. “Not seriously, though. I doubt she’d accept me back even if I begged.”
“I don’t know. I think she likes when people beg for her forgiveness. It puts all the power in her hands.”
“I really picked the wrong person to betray,” you mumble.
“You really did,” Zuko says, and he laughs when you hit him on the arm. “Actually, do you want me to teach you something?”
“What can you possibly teach me?” you respond dryly.
“How to redirect lightning,” he says, and your eyes widen. “It’s especially useful for people like us who Azula probably has on her electrocution list.”
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“Not really. Want to learn?”
You do. You’re not stupid enough to think Azula won’t hurt you if she ever sets eyes on you again. Better to get a step ahead when you have the chance.
Zuko leads you to the center of the courtyard, where you both take a long, deep breath in, then let it out slowly.
“Uncle taught me this after the desert fight,” he says. “I kept blowing things up when I tried to summon lightning, so instead, he showed me how to redirect it.”
“That’s further than I got,” you say wryly. “Azula beats me into the ground every time she tries to get me to learn it, but it never works. I can’t even get a spark going.”
“Azula and Uncle are the only ones I’ve seen do it,” he says. “But that’s not the point today. Now, spread your arms.”
You do, and Zuko nods. “It’s all about the flow of energy in your body, and the energy from the lightning. You have to take it in, then turn it against your enemy. Uncle learned it from studying waterbending.”
“So in a way, it’s the Avatar of firebending moves?”
Zuko stares at you. “What? No. I— what?”
You cough and look away. “Move on.”
He rolls his eyes and continues walking you through it. The chi in your body is what gives you the ability to firebend, and the source of that is in your stomach. By taking the lightning through one arm, passing it through the ‘sea of chi’ in your stomach, then letting it out through the other arm, you’re able to create a safe pathway through your body.
“But you have to go through your stomach,” Zuko insists. “If it goes through your heart, you’ll die.”
“Great,” you say, brows furrowing as you continue going through the motions. “So in the situation of Azula trying to kill me, I have to stay calm enough to remember all this.”
“Yeah.” You glare at him and he raises his hands. “I really don’t know what you want from me.”
You sigh and let your arms fall to your sides. “Sorry. I think I’m just cranky because I can’t sleep.”
“Welcome to the club,” Zuko says wryly. “At least you got a new move out of it, though.”
“Yeah. Thanks for teaching me.” You scratch the back of your neck. “I know I’ve been kind of a pain to deal with.”
“Kind of?”
“Don’t push it.”
He smiles and gestures at the fire escape with his head. “We should probably head back. Now that you’ve had a regular shift, Uncle will want you to open the shop tomorrow morning.”
“And what time is that?” you ask hesitantly.
“Dawn? Or maybe a little before— all I know is that it’s still dark outside when I get up most days.”
“...Yay.” Zuko just chuckles and starts walking back, and you follow him with a sigh.
This is better than a Fire Nation prison, you suppose—but not by much.
summary: family reunions never really go well in the fire nation.
wc: 6.1k
a/n: finally having some family action yay! ive had a lot of fun brainstorming r's family and their relationships with her and ive really grown to love kezu even though he has approximately no screentime until now lol. this is an oc focused chapter bc it's family time but i promise we will be back on the road in the next part!! as usual thank you so much for all the love on this series and i hope you enjoy<3
warning(s): past child abuse discussed, not in detail, bit of violence
You stand at the docks bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet, a minor step up from your incessant pacing.
You’re incredibly thankful that Azula still cares for you enough to get your father back sooner than the rest of the military leadership, even if you know her kindness does not come for free. You’ll figure out whatever favor she inevitably asks of you later—now, you’re just breathless thinking of seeing your brother again after a messenger hawk alerting you that he would be coming to pick you up.
Kezu has been at sea for years, and you barely remember the last time you saw him—some rare stop in your corner of the Earth Kingdom where you barely got to trade stories over fire flakes before he was headed back to his ship. You walked him all the way to the docks and waved furiously until the boat was little more than a speck in the distance.
He worked harder than anything to become a captain, and you’re so, so proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him more than anything. You only wish Lee could be here for a true reunion, even if he’s probably happier being around his arrows than other people.
When you start seeing grey dots on the horizon, you grin and jump up and down like it’ll help you see them better. Zuko asked if you wanted him with you, but this was part of the reason you needed to be alone—you’re hardly able to contain yourself and you haven’t even seen your brother yet.
Twenty minutes later, the ships are docking and you’re squinting at each one trying to pick out your brother. You’d know Kezu anywhere, but Navy uniforms make everyone look like one monotone sailor—and then you spot him across the way, helping an injured man walk down the narrowed gangway of his ship. You immediately start running, your deep red robes flowing behind you as you dodge and weave your way through the crowded docks.
“Kezu!” you shout once you’re close enough, and when he sees you, he grins and calls your name out. He passes the injured man to one of his sailors and beckons for you to come closer.
You practically barrel into him as you wrap your arms around him, but your brother doesn’t even falter as he lifts you off the ground and spins you around. When he sets you down, his golden eyes nearly twinkle.
“It’s so good to see you again,” Kezu says, and you smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’ve grown so much!”
“I’ve been training a lot,” you beam. “Can you tell?”
“Definitely,” he nods. “I can see your biceps through those fancy robes.”
You pull your sleeve up and flex your arm, and Kezu laughs. “Wow! You could knock any of my sailors out with those things!”
He glances over at his injured comrade and clears his throat with a slight smile. “You’ll be on your feet again in no time, Mako.”
“I started training with a sword, too,” you say. “I could barely hold it when I first started. Now I can beat half the soldiers at Dad’s camp.”
“I bet you could beat Dad himself with those skills,” Kezu says, and he claps you on the back with a grin. “Come on. I want you to meet my crew.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” Kezu says. “They all want to meet my super cool kid sister that I don’t shut up about.”
You light up as you start walking together. “You brag about me to your crew?”
“Of course,” he repeats. “None of their sisters are firebending machines who helped topple Ba Sing Se.”
Your smile wavers a bit. So word of your actions has even reached the sea. Azula had certainly done a good job at getting you wrapped into her and Zuko’s mess. You couldn’t point out her lies unless you wanted to make your traitorous thoughts a reality.
“I mean, you’re a war hero and you’re betrothed to Prince Zuko,” he says with a laugh. “I was still failing classes at the royal academy when I was your age, and here you are leaving us all in the dust.”
Your smile fully falls, and you nearly trip over a loose plank in the docks. Kezu keeps you upright, but he comes to a stop and gives you a look. He’s always able to catch on quicker than you like.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you.”
You sigh and glance away, trying to decide how much you want to reveal to your brother. On one hand, he’s your brother and you love him. On the other hand, your traitorous thoughts aren’t really something you should go around blabbing about, especially to a respected Navy officer.
“Zuko and I aren’t really happy about the engagement,” you decide on, because that very much is the truth. “I’ve been brainstorming ways to talk to the Fire Lord about it, but I don’t really get that far as soon as I get to the part where I have to talk to the Fire Lord about it.”
Kezu frowns. “Fire Lord Ozai is the one that arranged your marriage?”
“And probably Father,” you sigh. “We only found out about it when we got back to Ba Sing Se.” You roll your eyes. “We’re already halfway through a portrait. It all makes me want to scream.”
“I’m so sorry. If I had known—”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. I’ll figure something out,” you say, but you don’t really believe yourself. “Now, are you going to show me this ship that you love more than your family or not?”
You tease Kezu a lot about his sailor life, but honestly, you enjoy his tour of the ship. He’s been its captain for the past few years so it’s no surprise he knows the ins and outs of it, but he tells you about everything in such excited detail that you can’t even pretend to hate it. You’re happy both of your brothers have found their passion—you only hope you can someday find something you love as much as Lee with his arrows and Kezu with his ship.
It’s a quick ride to your destination—mostly because you’re going to your father’s army base. You thought he would take you to some fancy restaurant on the mainland to celebrate your reunion, but you guess that was too much to ask for. You half-expect your father to be waiting at the docks just like you did for Kezu’s arrival, but he just laughs when you tell him.
“He’s a general, don’t you understand? He wouldn’t be caught dead waiting on someone, even if those someones are his children.”
You do your best to help Kezu and his crew dock the ship, but all you’re really good for is tying a few knots that you think his boatswain immediately reties himself. You can’t win them all.
Kezu gives his crew the rest of the day off to enjoy themselves, and soon enough you’re just outside the camp. Your father is in deep conversation with one of his lieutenants, and your brother rolls his eyes.
“He’s the one that invited us out here but he’s not even ready.”
“He’s a busy man.”
“We’re both busy,” he says. “But apparently our time is less valuable than his.”
“Kezu,” you chide, but you’re cut off when you hear your names being called and you look up to see your father pacing towards you.
“Told you,” you whisper, and Kezu huffs as you run forward to meet your father. He doesn’t hug you as tight as your brother, but it still feels nice.
“I was wondering when you would arrive!” he exclaims. “Oh, I am so proud of you. My only daughter, a war hero and the future Fire Lady.” He grins and you feel sick. “I know your mother is looking down on you with such pride.”
“Thank you, Father,” you say, hoping your smile is convincing. “All I’ve ever wanted to do is make you proud. Both of you.”
He pulls away and smiles up at your brother who has reluctantly joined you. Kezu’s final growth spurt put him a few inches above your father and you don’t think he’s ever gotten over it.
“And congratulations are due to you as well,” your father says. “Have you told your sister the good news yet?”
“No,” Kezu says evenly. “I didn’t plan to.”
You frown. “What good news?”
“We’ll save that for dinner,” he says, and he pulls you into his side as you all start walking together, your father and brother on either side of you. “I brought one of the best chefs in the Fire Nation here tonight. You two deserve to dine like kings after so long on the road— and the sea, I suppose.”
Kezu rolls his eyes, then frowns when you jab him in the side.
Be nice, you mouth, and he rolls his eyes even harder. Sometimes you don’t know how he’s a whole decade older than you.
Soon, you’re all sitting around the table in the banquet hall—or tent, rather—as you try your best to mediate between your family with endless stories. You have more than enough after a lifetime with Azula.
“I’ve never put out so many fires in my life,” you say with a slight chuckle. “Princess Ursa banned us from playing hide and explode for a good while after that, but Prince Ozai reinstated it after.” You tilt your head. “I guess he doesn’t really talk to us that much now that he’s Fire Lord.”
Your eyes dart from your brother, his rapt attention all yours, and your father, who has been trying to read a scroll as inconspicuously as possible beside his plate. You huff.
“No work at the table, Father.”
“That doesn’t apply here,” he says idly, still not bothering to look at you. “This camp is under my control.”
“But we aren’t,” you say wryly.
“Come on, Dad,” Kezu says. “You brought us out here. You can at least act like you want it.”
That gets your father’s attention, and you hit your head against the back of the chair. What’s gotten into your brother that he can’t stop pushing?
“Indeed,” he says. “I believe it’s well past time you inform your sister of your latest and greatest feat.”
“Dad—”
“No,” he interrupts. “Both of you have worked hard for your accomplishments, and you will talk about them. Kezu, tell your sister the good news.”
He sighs and leans back in his seat. “I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”
“What is it?” you push.
“...I’ve been promoted to commander,” he says, and you nearly jump out of your chair as you beam at him.
“Are you serious? That’s incredible! Congratulations!”
“Commander Banri has decided to retire after decades of service to the Fire Nation, and he chose Kezu as his successor last month,” your father says. “The youngest Naval captain in documented history, and he comes from our family!” He grins and hits his fist against the table. “Instead of one measly ship, he will now lead his entire fleet.”
“I liked my measly ship,” Kezu says, and you frown at his sharp tone. Your brother has dedicated his whole life to the Navy, so you don’t know why he’s not more excited.
When he was promoted from lieutenant to captain, he sent you what felt like fifty messenger hawks over the span of a week. Now, he’s been Commander Kezu for a month, and he didn’t even deign to tell you when you met at the docks?
“And you will still have it,” your father says evenly. “But now your horizons must expand. You do understand how much of an honor it is to take over the position from such a revered man as Commander Banri.”
“It is a great honor,” he says, staring at your father who only stares back, and you frown. What is going on here?
“May we be excused, Father?” you speak up, and while your father looks at you, Kezu’s gaze drops to the table. “I want to show Kezu some of the new firebending moves I’ve learned since I saw him last.”
He waves his hand in disinterest. “Just be back before dark.”
You nod your thanks and get up, but Kezu doesn’t move. “We’re gonna talk for a little bit first. I’ll be out soon.”
You frown, but Kezu has that look in his eyes where you shouldn’t question him, so you just nod and leave. Kezu has always been strange around your father since he left to join the Navy, but why they’re both acting so weird is none of your business right now.
You wander into the woods to your usual spot, where you used to spar with your brothers for hours and later just practiced on your own—by a lake, of course, just in case you needed to prevent a forest fire if you missed a few too many times. This is the first time in forever that you won’t be doing it alone, and the thought makes you smile.
Usually you practice a variety of moves, but since Ba Sing Se, you’ve only had one thing on your mind—lightning.
Azula does it with such ease that it’s even more frustrating when you can’t get as much as a spark, but you refuse to give up. If you’re going to be able to survive in the Fire Nation with Azula watching your every move and Zuko trying his best to make your farce engagement work, you need to be as strong as possible.
You try to clear your mind as you move your arms the way Azula taught you, but it’s nearly impossible with so much on your shoulders. You nearly betrayed your country, the biggest city in the world has fallen, your brother is acting weird, and worst of all, Sokka probably hates you and never wants to see you again.
You think about him all the time, even though you’re sure he’s probably already forgotten about you. It’s for the best, depressingly so, which always ruins your mood for a good while.
For obvious reasons, your mood doesn’t help with your lightningbending. You try time and time again, still making absolutely little progress—but when you point your fingers across the clearing for the umpteenth time, you yelp as the ground explodes and throws you off your feet. You immediately scramble over to the water and start tossing handfuls at the fire to extinguish it, then your shoulders sag as you hear Kezu call your name. Of course this is when he shows up.
“Are you taking a night swim?” he asks, clearly amused.
You roll your eyes as you shake your hands out to dry them off. So this is what Zuko meant when he said he kept blowing stuff up. “I’m trying to bend lightning. It’s clearly not working.”
His eyebrows rise. “Lightningbending? I thought that was just a myth.”
“Azula does it all the time,” you huff. “And Iroh can do it too. All I can do is start small forest fires.”
“Give yourself some credit. It wasn’t that bad.”
“But it wasn’t lightning.”
“Who cares?” Kezu extends a hand and you let him pull you back up. “You’re a better firebender than I was at your age.”
“You’re the hardest worker I’ve ever known,” you say. “It doesn’t really matter how long it took for you to get where you are.”
“And another way of saying that would be, who cares.” You chuckle and Kezu smiles. “Don’t be your own worst enemy. You’ve already got plenty of them.”
“Sounds like you do too,” you say, taking a seat on a nearby boulder. “Commander Kezu, huh? Youngest in recent history? Why didn’t you tell me?”
His smile fades and he looks away. “I’m sorry.”
“I could’ve spent the past month bragging to my friends that my brother is a commander,” you say. “I can’t believe you robbed me of that.”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want the promotion,” he admits, and your eyebrows rise in surprise.
“What? Why?”
“I love my crew,” he says, frowning. “I didn’t want to climb the ranks, I wanted to stay with them. I have no idea why Banri chose me.”
“Probably because you love your crew so much,” you say. “You put your all into everything you do, and you’ll come to care about your whole fleet the way you care about your crew. It’s why you’re a great captain, and it’s why you’ll be a great commander.”
“I wish I had as much faith in myself as you do.”
“Well, it’s easy for me to see how great you are,” you say, kicking at the dirt with your boot. “I’ve always looked up to you, y’know.”
You feel his eyes on you. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’re my oldest brother, which means you’ve always been the coolest person I know.” You smile at the ground. “You sparred with me whenever I asked.” You pause. “You protected me from Dad.”
You hear a heavy sigh and you look over to find Kezu has wandered over to you. He’s always been a head taller than you, and though you used to hate it, you don’t mind it half as much these days.
“Leaving you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he says quietly. “Those days when you, me and Lee were all together are some of the best of my whole life.”
“Me too,” you admit as you look up at him, trying your best to smile. “I miss you two every day. It’s… hard, just being alone with Father. I’m almost glad Azula made me stay at the palace.”
Kezu frowns as he crouches down so he can be eye level with you. “Hard how?”
You look away at the force of his gaze as he puts his hand over yours.
“Dad hasn’t…” Kezu swallows hard and shame ripples through you. “I mean, he hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
You can’t meet his eyes and he shakes his head as he stands up, his hands clenching into fists. You can feel the heat radiating off him from here as he begins pacing.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“It wasn’t anything bad, I swear!”
“I don’t care!” Kezu exclaims. “He shouldn’t be doing anything—”
“We spar a lot,” you insist. “Things happen. You always had bruises when you were younger.”
“And how do you think I got those?” he questions, and you fall silent. “Sure, half of them were from sparring, but the other half was from him.”
“He means the best,” you say quietly. “We’ve gotten this good for a reason.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Kezu marvels. “Dad is a coward, okay? Not— not this great firebending teacher, or some brave, wizened general— he’s a coward. Good men don’t hurt the innocent., and they certainly don't hurt their children.”
“He did it for a reason!” you repeat. “Look, Azula is the best firebender I know, and it’s not like the Fire Lord has ever been kind. It fuels us—”
“It ruins us,” he snaps. “Why do you think Lee never comes back?”
“He loves being a Yuyan—”
“He had to become a Yuyan. Dad would’ve disowned him if he didn’t make something of himself as a nonbender.”
You look at the ground, and Kezu shakes his head with a sigh.
“You’ve spent more time with him than you ever should have, and I’m so, so sorry,” he murmurs. “But everything you’ve accomplished has been in spite of Dad—not because of him.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” you ask quietly.
“...Because I can tell you’re having the same doubts I am.”
You stare at him, suddenly feeling faint. “What did you just say?”
“You’re doubting your place in the Fire Nation,” Kezu says. “You’re wondering if you really want to help destroy the world in the name of false unity.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t kid about this.”
“It’s just—” you pause and shake your head. Kezu is your brother, you trust him with your life—but can you trust him with this? It could all be a trick. You actually think enlisting your seafaring brother against you is out of Azula’s playbook, but your father had a talent for turning you and your siblings against each other in the old days.
If you admit the truth, you could lose everything.
“What?” Kezu asks.
But if your brother is manipulating you like this, then you’ve honestly already lost all that matters.
“I… nearly threw everything away in Ba Sing Se.” You sigh and lay back down on the rock to stare up at the sky. The stars always seem so certain—but maybe it’s just because you turn to them when you’re especially unsure. “I was stuck in these crystal caves with Zuko and one of the Avatar’s friends, and if Azula hadn’t gotten to me first…”
“You would’ve joined the Avatar,” Kezu says faintly. It doesn’t bring you any comfort to hear the thought you’ve beat yourself up about a thousand times over out loud.
“I didn’t help take over Ba Sing Se. I didn’t help kill the Avatar. And I’m trying to get out of my engagement.” You sigh as some odd feeling washes over you. This is the first time you’ve told anyone about this—the first time you’ve spoken your doubts into reality. There’s no putting crococat back in the bag now. “Your war hero sister is actually a traitor and a liar. Surprise.”
You expect Kezu to berate you, or express his disappointment, or even frown, but instead he actually smiles.
“I always knew you had it in you.”
You scoff. “Had what in me? Treason?”
“Welcome to the club,” he says. “Why do you think I was so upset about becoming a commander?”
“Because you’re literally in love with your ship?”
“Because now I’m going to have absolutely everyone watching me,” Kezu says. “Maybe in normal circumstances I could keep everyone in the dark on what I’m doing, but I’m taking over for one of the greatest commanders in naval history. Half the fleet wants me to succeed, half wants me to fail miserably, but either way every single thing I do is going to be overanalyzed.”
You look at the sky for a few seconds before it hits you, then vertigo hits as you shoot up and stare at him with wide eyes.
“You were thinking of deserting.”
Kezu huffs and glances away. “Try a few days from it.”
“Kezu, are you kidding me? Having doubts is one thing, but deserting? Do you want to be disowned?”
“I couldn’t care less what Dad thinks of me. The only thing keeping me from it was my crew. And then that old bastard had to go and retire.”
“I’m still stuck on the fact that you were about to desert the military!”
“I don’t get why you’re so surprised,” he says as he crosses his arms. “I mean, the way you talk you were a few days from it too.”
You frown and avert your eyes. “Well, I didn’t.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to go down that path?”
“It’s a pretty dangerous one.”
“Not any more than staying on this one," he says, and he tilts his head. "Much less dangerous than what you did with Azula in the Earth Kingdom.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know! It just is!” You frown as you wrap your arms around yourself. “It’s not like I can leave anyways. Not with Azula watching me all the time.”
“She’s not watching you out here.”
“I can’t either way!”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
You stare at him. “I can’t.”
Kezu shrugs. “Fine.”
“Yeah,” you say. “Fine.”
“But I just want you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you interrupt, and his eyes soften.
“Fine. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Kezu disappears into the trees and you fall back against the rock with a groan. You never would’ve guessed that betrayal runs in the family.
-
You stay in the forest until dark, trying in vain to work through your muddled thoughts until you decide it’s worthless.
Even still, when you go back to the tent that you’ve slept in for years, all you do is toss and turn. Maybe that’s why, against your better judgment, you find yourself in your father’s office, sitting in his chair like you’ve wanted to for years.
The words of your friends echo in your ears. Not only does Mai believe that you’re stronger than your father—Azula does too. Shouldn’t that mean something? If Fire Princess Azula, conqueror of Ba Sing Se, believes that you are better than your father, you should get something out of it. You shouldn’t be stuck begging for scraps of recognition when you’re the best firebender in your family. Not even your father, one of the Fire Lord’s most respected generals, has the connection to the royal family that you do.
You are better than your father. Stronger, faster, quicker—tougher. Your scars prove it. Isn’t that why he gave them to you in the first place? To make you stronger?
You start rifling through the drawers without really thinking, your anger possessing you. If your father refuses to trust you after everything you’ve done for him, you’ll give him an actual reason for it.
At first, you find nothing but scribbled notes in your father’s illegible handwriting, standard war correspondence, about a thousand maps of the nearby villages for invasion plans. When you get to one of the bottom drawers, though, you find it full of furled letters, the type messenger hawks carry. You pick up the top one and carefully break open the seal, expecting a familiar colonel or maybe even one of your brothers—but then your eyes widen.
It’s addressed to you.
The paper crinkles beneath your tightening grip as you start reading.
I can’t believe I’m finally writing these words. You’re the only person outside of my crew that I’ve told because I know you can keep a secret, but it is more important now than ever.
I’ve finally found the Avatar. He’s hiding in the Southern Water Tribe after one hundred years of cowardice. I won’t be able to write to you much in the future while I’m on the move, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m finally coming home.
Zuko
You have to reread it a few more times for the words to actually sink in—Zuko wrote to you when he found the Avatar. You never got this. You only found out through soldier gossip, and then an official decree from your father to the whole camp.
You roll the letter back up and tug it in your pocket then grab another one and tear it open, yet again addressed to you.
I have a new show opening this week at the circus! I always knew this was my calling, but now I’m sure I belong here. I couldn’t fit the whole poster in here so I just tore off a part of it and stuck it to the bottom. I would love to see you there! It’s been too long, and I miss you so so so much :( I know you’re training to become a super strong soldier and that’s probably why you can’t write back but nothing is the same without you.
Hope to see you there!!! Your friend forever, Ty Lee
You keep digging through the drawer and ripping scrolls open, finding more letters from Zuko and Ty Lee, a surprising amount from Mai, and even the occasional update from Azula. All of your friends have been writing to you for the past four years, and not a single one has made its way to you. Instead, your father has intercepted every single one.
You even find letters in your own handwriting, addressed to your friends that they never got to see. You feel sick. All this time, you thought your friends pretty much forgot about you in your absence. You blamed them for it, figured they didn’t care about you now that you were gone.
A letter from Azula crumples in your hand as it closes into a fist, sizzling from the contact with your scorching skin. No wonder you only ever made contact with them from the palace.
You came here because your father asked you to. You trained day in and day out because he insisted on it. You took his criticism, his demands, his punishments, all for nothing.
He really has been sabotaging you since the moment you stepped foot here.
You suddenly feel very, very small.
You do your best to clean up the letters, but you’ve torn open so many of them there’s no hiding what you’ve done. Eventually, you just shove them all into the drawer, slam it shut so hard the wood chips, then run.
-
Kezu, in all his brotherly goodness, does not say I told you so when you stumble into his tent. Instead, he just tells you to pack a bag and meet him at the docks. Your escape plan is a rowboat barely large enough to fit the two of you.
“Is it too late to change my mind?”
“Almost.” Kezu drops to his knees to start untying the ropes then glances up at you. “Do you want to?”
“Maybe.” You frown. “No. I mean, maybe, but—”
“I’m serious,” he says. “There’s no turning back once we do this.”
You sigh as you glance back towards the camp, where your father and the rest of his battalion are all sound asleep. By morning, his children will be long gone, traitors to the nation he has dedicated his entire life to.
“Why can’t we just take your ship?” you complain. “I don’t think we can row our way to the Earth Kingdom.”
“We’re already in the Earth Kingdom,” Kezu says wryly. “As soon as we get past the colonies we’re in the clear.”
“This is how peasants travel, Kezu! We’re not peasants!”
He pauses, tilting his head. “We kinda will be when we leave.”
You groan as your hands clench into fists. “Just hurry up.”
“I’ll be able to move faster if you help,” he says, gesturing at the boat. “There’s a tarp in my bag. Get it pinned down.”
“Why?”
“It’s supposed to storm tonight.”
“What?!” you shout and he motions for you to shut up. “Why?”
“Dad’s not stupid enough to follow us into a storm.”
“And you are?!”
“What I am is an incredible sailor,” he says. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”
You stare at Kezu, and he stares back. Eventually, you sigh and hold out your hand. He grins and hands you his bag.
“If we die, I’m haunting you.”
“We’re going to be fine. You also can’t haunt me if we’re both dead.”
You huff and look up at the moon. Just a few days ago, you were sitting for a portrait with the Prince of the Fire Nation. Now you’re throwing your entire life away on a very stupid whim. Funny how things go.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you mutter.
“You know, we’re not going to get very far if you keep complaining. It’s not—”
Kezu stops and you frown, but when you turn to look at him, he’s already moving towards you.
“Duck!” he yells.
A sharp pain shoots through your jaw as Kezu tackles you to the ground, and you hear the sound of soaring fireballs. You spout every curse you know as Kezu shields you from the impending firing squad.
“They know!” you whisper-yell. “Father knows! Oh, spirits, he’s going to kill us—”
“He’s not going to do anything,” Kezu insists. He grabs your arm as he hauls both himself and you back up. You throw fire punches with your free hand as he pulls you along, but you stumble to a stop when you spot your father.
“Kezu—”
“No time to talk!”
“He’s here, Kezu!”
That gets him to stop.
“Don’t take another step!” your father yells, and your whole body tenses. You could do this when he didn’t know, but now that he’s here, watching you throw everything away, your head starts to spin. You’re back in Ba Sing Se begging Azula for mercy, turning your back on the only thing you’ve ever done for yourself.
Kezu positions himself in front of you, spreading one arm out to block you that you try to push down.
“You need to listen to me,” your brother says, quiet enough that only you can hear.
“We need to get out of here!” you exclaim, and he shakes his head.
“There’s only one way that this all ends.”
“And that way is us getting out of here together!” you insist.
Your father is getting closer, near enough that you can see the fire blazing in his eyes as he leads too many soldiers for you and Kezu to take on your own. He’s been steadily backing up towards the water, until you’re nervous that you’re going to fall in. Raindrops start to spatter all over, growing stronger by the second.
The storm is already here.
“What has gotten into you two?” he yells. “We should be more united than ever after your accomplishments, but now you’re both running?”
“If you paid attention, you would’ve seen this coming,” Kezu spits.
“How could I have ever imagined my own children, my own flesh and blood, would be traitors?” your father snaps, and you flinch. “I have given you everything, and this is how you repay me?”
He looks past Kezu to meet your eyes, and his calm tone doesn’t match his wildfire expression. You want to yell, scream, sob, but your body is so stiff you feel frozen.
“Make the right choice,” he demands. “You are so close to going down in history.”
“I’ve never wanted that,” you insist. “I’ve only ever wanted you to see me.”
“I do!” he exclaims. “You are the best of us— I’ve known that since the moment you were born. I saw your potential when no one else did. Your mother—”
“Don’t you dare bring her up!” Kezu shouts, and his calloused hand finds yours behind his back. You're both soaked by now, and you hear thunder cracking in the distance.
If you don’t get out now, you won’t get out at all.
“She was my wife before she was your mother,” he says evenly.
“And she loved us more than she ever loved you,” your brother says bitterly. “She would hate you for how you’ve treated us.”
Fire ignites at your father’s clenched fists. “You’re running out of time to make the right decision.”
“Or what?” Kezu mocks, nearly shouting to be heard over the pouring rain. “You’ll kill me?”
“I don’t want to find out.”
Kezu shakes his head as his grip tightens on your hand. For a moment, you think he’s actually going to listen.
“I can’t believe I ever looked up to you,” Kezu spits. Then it all happens at once.
He shoves you back into the rowboat and cuts the ropes with fire in one swift motion.
You hit the floor so hard your vision blurs, then grab onto the side as Kezu causes an explosion beneath the water, strong enough to send your rowboat far from the shore, too far for you to bail and help him.
Your father and his soldiers unleash everything they have on your brother as he dodges and weaves and fights for his life. All you see is waves of orange and red, able to feel the heat even from here despite the gathering storm.
You scream your brother's name until your throat is raw, but you can barely hear over the rain battering the ocean beneath you. Each time you try to grab the oars, you hit another wave and fall back down. You can’t distinguish your tears from the rain and it’s nearly impossible to see through the raging storm as you stare out across the vicious waves.
You're not going to make it.
Kezu sacrificed himself for you and you're not even going to make it.
You wonder if you'll get to see your mother for the first time. If she's really proud of you—if she could ever love the one that killed her.
It’s the last thought you have before an especially strong wave knocks you against the side of the boat headfirst, and your vision goes black in an instant.
Synopsis: After three months of exclusive dating, Zuko finally earns himself an invite to your place for Black Cinema 101. It's a night of movies, take-out, and sexual restraint that finally shatters.
Tags: p in v, dirty talk, oral ( f receiving) bigdick Zuko, mostly plot/ smut, manhandling, fluff, swearing, modern au, fem!reader , pet names, soft dom!Zuko, first time sleeping together.
Author note: This is apart of a miniseries but can be read as a stand alone! If you'd like to catch up on the xbaddiereader miniseries here you go: Best Behavior
not proofread
‘Call your partners, whoever's person answers first keeps the card’
Liz looks up from the bright pink dare card—hair wrapped in a heatless curl rod, eyes squinted, and head tilted as she looks around the room. Suki is engaged. Sophie is in a relationship. Liz is in a relationship too, but then her gaze stops on you, wrist-deep in the popcorn bowl hunting for M&Ms.
“Let me pull another card,” Liz states, reaching forward to grab another off the top.
Suki, who’s lying on her stomach, phone already in hand, pauses. “Why? Scared you’ll have to take the shot?”
Liz and Sophie giggle at the accusation. Liz turns her gaze back to you, “Never, he’ll answer. But your snookums over there, last I heard she wasn’t dating anyone.”
You freeze in your conquest, cheeks growing warm. Your eyes snap shut, not wanting to look at the 'what the fuck' expression you just know Suki is wearing.
“OH! She hasn’t told you ladies yet huh? Your own family, girl? You’re sick,” Suki points out, playfully pinching the closest thing on you she could grab which happens to be the side of your thigh.
You cut your eyes at her, a pout forming on your full lips. “I didn’t want to jinx it. I tell my family, they expect to meet him, and what if things hit the fan before then? Now I gotta explain that if they mention him in my presence I’m liable to spazz out so bad they’ll have to call them people on me. Now I’m in grippy socks, eating nasty ass chocolate pudding, because I couldn’t hold water,” you rant, your eyebrow twitching in annoyance as you rile yourself up with the sheer thought of this being a possibility.
Suki rolls her eyes. Your older cousins look at you with expectancy and wide eyes.
“Well shit, how long have you been dating,” Sophie questions, throwing a roller at your chest. You watch as it lands in your popcorn bowl, picking it up and throwing it back at her, but she catches it with ease and uses it in her next section.
“Mmm, three months. We’re taking it slow, so there’s no title yet, but we are exclusive,” you explain. Your fingers wrap around your mocktail, taking a large gulp of the sugary substance with a private smile. It’s been a lovely three months. “He’s really fucking kind. Patient. Funny, in this dry humor, sarcastic way. And God, he’s so fucking handsome y’all with a voice that could melt panties. And did I say he was kind and patient? And funny?”
Liz lets out a light laugh, nodding.
Sophie hums, popping a freshly baked cookie off the plate on the coffee table. “That’s nice. So, you’ve mentioned his personality and looks. What about his dick game? Not good?”
Suki chokes on a piece of popcorn at the brutally blunt question. As she coughs up a lung, you half-heartedly pat her back. “It wasn't funny enough to almost die by popcorn,” you mumble. Your attention then turns back to your oldest cousin. “I—I, we haven't had sex. Like I said, taking it slow. I don’t want a fuck-buddy, a situationship, or anything of that nature, and I told him that. I told him I want this to be old-school dating and he just smiled and said, 'Sounds great.’ ”
“Wowwwww,” Liz mutters, utterly shocked at the commitment. “And he’s been okay with that? The no sex? Are y’all kissing? Just holding hands? I don’t think I could go without sex that long if I’m dating fine shit.”
You exhale dramatically, wiping your hands on a napkin. “Bitch… I’m literally starting to hear colors and see sounds. And I just know—Heavens, I know—he’s packing. I can feel it when we’re making out. I want that man to bend me in half and make it worth my while, but I can’t give it up until I’m sure this is going to be something more. You know? Although, I have a really good feeling about him. Now, enough with my chit-chat. This is game night, not let’s-talk-about-our-men night. Whip out those phones, whores. Let's see who’s gonna be needing a trashcan next to them tonight,” you cackle.
“Need a trashcan my ass,” Suki grumbles, her finger hovering over Sokka’s call button. “I’m not new to this, I’m true to this—always remember that pumpkin.”
“Hello!” Sophie calls out, her phone at the ready.
You pull up Zuko’s contact number with ease, but your thumb trembles a bit over the call button. He really has been a doll these past three months. And as you take a moment to reflect, your stomach flutters with an ounce of anxiety. It’s roughly 7pm, so not too late. When you spoke with him this morning, he gave you a rough draft of his schedule while he’s out of the state for work and right about now he should be in his hotel room watching some random nature documentary.
“1…2…3!” Liz shouts.
The two shots in your system don't allow you to overthink the situation further, you click his contact and place it on speaker. The room breaks out into a synchronization of the FaceTime ringtone blasting throughout the cozy space of your living room, over the sound of the shared group playlist playing softly in the background.
Your heart practically stops as he answers on the third ring. Before he can even say anything you’re a cackling mess. “Start drinking ladies! He answered,” you order, pointing a pretty pink manicured nail at the three of them.
“He’s on probation of course he answered first,” Sophie whines.
“Sokka, you’re literally a ring too late,” Suki chastises, rolling her eyes.
“I’m gonna have to cuss him out when I get home,” Liz mutters, eyes glued to the still ringing phone.
There’s the quiet sound of Morgan Freeman coming through your speakers, and then, so does Zuko. His hair, which he’s been growing out since your first meeting, is in a messy bun and his long sleeve crewneck is doing wonders for his shoulders. “Hi beautiful, everything okay?”
“Oh,” Liz and Sophie’s voices harmonize as they hear his voice.
You give them an I told you so look, before glancing back down at your phone. “Everything is quite splendid! Thank you so much for answering so swiftly, it’s saved me from joining the loser circle,” you tease.
He chuckles quietly, a singular eyebrow raised in curiosity, “I’m confused, but nonetheless happy I can be of service to you—”
“Y/n, turn your phone I need to see what this man looks like when he sounds like that,” Sophie instructs. She’s already moving across the plush rug that’s piled with all of the extra blankets in your house and making her way to your phone.
“I am not—you sucker give that back,” You reach to grab the phone she’s slipped from your hands, eyes wide in shock. Liz looks over Sophie's shoulder and Suki joins in for the hell of it; while Sokka is still expressing his apologies.
Zuko looks completely unfazed by the sudden influx of dynamic energy invading his screen.
Instead of holding a phone, he’s actually looking slightly downward, the sharp angle of his jawline lit by the crisp, blue-white glow of his laptop screen. In the background, the plush headboard of his hotel bed and a neatly stacked pile of work documents are visible. He reaches up, his long fingers adjusting the built-in webcam on his laptop to get a better angle of the three faces currently crowding into your phone frame.
Up close, the intense, dark depth of his eyes and the distinct, faded burn scar tracing the left side of his face are on full display, making him look completely breathtaking.
"Hi," Zuko says smoothly, his deep voice carrying that signature dry, calm tone. "Pleasure to see you ladies, and Suki, hello.”
Sophie’s jaw literally drops. Liz grips Sophie’s shoulder, blinking rapidly. "Oh, wow," Liz breathes out, completely losing her composure. "Okay. Okay, Y/n. I see you."
Suki, however, just bursts out laughing, leaning directly into your phone’s camera. "Sup workaholic,” she takes note of the papers on his lap and the tablet sitting on the nightstand beside him.
“Suki, good to see you—”
“Is that Zuko! Tell him to log in to—”
“Please tell your fiancee that yelling at this time of night isn’t healthy and that the answer is no,” Zuko states, cutting Sokka off before he can even finish his sentence.
Suki cackles, dropping her phone onto her lap as she yells back at her fiancé, “He said no, babe! And he said you're a loud mouth!”
Liz and Sophie are still hovering over your screen like two hyper-focused hawks. "Wait, so you guys already know each other?" Sophie asks, her eyes darting between Suki and the gorgeous man on your screen. "Why am I always the last to find out when Y/n is pulling a literal prince?"
"Because you talk too much," you mumble from your spot on the floor, your face still buried in a pillow to hide the intense heat rushing to your cheeks.
Zuko clears his throat softly, the sound a quiet, velvet vibration coming through your phone speaker. He casually stacks a few of his work documents on the bed beside him, his laptop camera capturing the relaxed, easy way he leans back against the headboard. "Sokka and I went to college together," he explains smoothly to the cousins, entirely polite but with a faint, amused smirk playing on his full lips. "And Suki is the only reason I know how to assemble a three-hundred-piece bedframe at ten at night."
Hey, it was a crisis!" Suki defends herself, though she’s grinning ear to ear. "But he really is a lifesaver, y'all. And because he did a good deed, he was able to miss his hair appointment that was scheduled for early the next morning. Which—” she pauses for dramatic effect, turning her gaze to you with a twinkle in her eye, “is what allowed him to get the attention of a baddie like y/n to be calling his phone at seven at night on a Saturday. So, y’all are so welcome.”
Your head snaps up from the pillow so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. Your eyes wide, you mouth shut the fuck up at Suki, but she just blows you a kiss, completely unbothered.
Sophie finally takes pity on you, tossing the phone back onto your lap. You scramble to grab it, flipping the FaceTime view back to just your face and turning the volume down. You pull the phone close, trying to smooth down your hair.
"I am so, so sorry," you groan, looking at him through the screen. "They are feral. I should have warned you."
Zuko just smiles, leaning back against his pillows as he looks at you through his laptop monitor, his gold-flecked eyes entirely soft. "Don't worry about it. It’s good to see Suki isn't forcing you all to build furniture. But..." He pauses and a warmth settles into his gaze. "I did catch something about a 'loser circle' before they hijacked the call. Care to explain what exactly I just saved you from?"
You glance over your shoulder to see Liz answering her own phone as her boyfriend returns her call, Suki is still chatting to Sokka, and Sophie is making another phone call. You push yourself off of the floor, carefully walking over the magazines, take-out, and board games spread out everywhere. You navigate to your kitchen, putting a bit of privacy between your conversation and the girls.
“We’re playing a game called For The Girls and Liz pulled a card that instructed us to call our mans and whoever’s call is answered first wins the card and doesn’t have to take a shot. So, winner-winner,” you explain, grinning as you take him in. Even when he’s not doing much, he’s simply too good looking to not stare at. “How is work going? This is the end of week one, yes?”
He exhales roughly, closing his eyes for a moment. “It is indeed the end of week one, and it’s going incredibly slow. I’d love nothing more than to be back in the city and taking you out on dates or just being in your presence,” his gaze softens as he opens his eyes, and a breathtaking smile spreads across his lips. “ I miss you.”
Your heart skips a beat at the raw honesty in his voice. You send a quick thank you to the powers above; somehow, someway, you’ve found a chalant man. “One more week and then we can do whatever you like! Oh, but earlier, we were playing this other game called We’re Not Really Strangers, it’s the one I brought over on our picnic date last month , and I got such a great idea from Liz. I know you like learning about my culture and Liz did this thing with her partner where she planned a movie night of all her favorite Black classic films. So, I was thinking of doing that with you! You can come over to my place and spend the night and we can have a movie marathon where you can ask all the questions you’d like, but also get a really cool look at what Black cinema and Black culture looks like in mainstream media!”
His head tilts as he watches you animatedly explain your date idea, usually he plans them, mainly because he likes to surprise you and it gives him something to do while he looks forward to the next time he sees you. “I’d like that a lot, but just to clarify, beautiful, you’re inviting me to your Baddie’s Headquarters?”
Your cheeks grow warm at the realization. All sleepovers have been at his place, due to the anxiety of a man having your address and you not being sure if it was going to stick or not. However, with him looking like that and with a voice of that nature, the chances of him slipping out of your grasp anytime soon is becoming slim. You nod slowly. “I–I would really like to host you, if you’re up for it! It’s okay if you’re not. We can easily have the movie night at your place. I know our other movie nights have been there and there’s nothing wrong with that…” your words drone on as you ramble, clearly flustered at offering the invitation.
“Baby, breathe,” he interrupts, letting out a light chuckle. “You tell me when and I’m there. I would be incredibly honored to see the place you disappear to when you’re outside of my orbit.”
You practically melt at his reassurance, a breathy, okay slipping past your lips as you swoon.
Now the countdown begins.
—
“Suki, you’re not listening to meeee,” you whine, aggressively pushing the TJMaxx cart through the store as you head towards the pajamas aisle.
She snorts loudly, “You right, because what are you talking about girl?”
You groan.
Your grip tightens around the handle and you sigh dramatically. You really feel as if she’s not understanding the magnitude of what this day means for you and the relationship you’re currently building. “I’m talking about the fact that he’s coming to my house! After three months and eight days, he’s stepping into THEE Baddie’s Headquarters—my paradise. And I’m nervous girl, real fucking nervous,” you confess, voice shaking towards the end as the realization hits you all over again.
Your stomach does a mild flutter and you’re not entirely sure if you’re going to throw up before seven o’clock comes or if you’re going to pass out—it’s a fifty-fifty shot of either happening today.
She hums, fingers flipping through the early fall loungewear. You told her you were looking for maximum comfort and cuteness, but in an enticing kind of way; and that’s exactly what she’s browsing for while hearing you whine and vent. “I think you’re overthinking it as well as looking at it the wrong way. I don’t think you’re nervous about him coming over into your space, I think you’re worried about what’s going to happen in your space. We both know you’re more comfortable in your house than his, and with comfortability comes lower guard, and you’re worried you’re gonna fucking fold like a lawn chair and make it rain on him.”
You freeze in your tracks. Her words act as a lighter to your powder keg—she’s fucking right. Suki casually alternates between holding two different loungewear sets up to your frame to see which she likes best, acting as if she hasn't just completely altered your brain chemistry with her read of the situation.
“I think this yellow looks stunning, but I noticed you’ve been wearing a lot of pink recently,” she notes casually.
Your thoughts are still all over the place, trying to come to terms with the sudden realization of what you’ve been experiencing for the past eight days. “I–uh, he…he makes me feel soft…and pink…pink makes me feel as if I’m reinforcing that,” you mutter. Your fingers twiddle with the two piece set. The fabric is incredibly soft, the shorts are anything but modest and the top without a bra could be dangerous. You want it.
Suki smiles warmly, setting the outfit into the shopping cart. Now this trip makes sense. When you had called and told her to pick you up because you needed an outlet, an outfit, and an objective opinion, she just agreed without thinking much of it. But now? It’s all lining up. You, realizing it or not, are head over heels falling for this man—to the point where you want to step into the feminine aspects of yourself outside of coordinated girls nights and friendships. You want to be soft for him and the fact that you’re leaning into it without pushing back, without coming up with an excuse, and without finding flaws in him, just further proves it. Her best friend is free falling into love.
“I can’t wait to hear all about how the date tonight goes tomorrow over our double date,” she states softly.
A small smile pulls at your cheeks, “I’m excited for that too! Brunch never disappoints, especially when there’s bottomless mimosas and endless french toast involved.”
She giggles, nodding, “ Exactly that! Oh! Add that too!”
You raise an eyebrow at what she’s pointing at. Following the angle of her finger, your gaze lands on a lingerie set. You roll your eyes. “Absolutely not. Besides, you said after we’re done with the boy we’d go catch the sale at Savage. No take backsies,” you remind, navigating the both of you to the candle section.
You pick up anything that says strawberry or vanilla scented, until something speaks to you. And once you have Suki’s approval on three new candles, the two of you simply peruse the store. Chatting about her bridal shower that just passed, your desire to take a few art classes at one of the universities nearby, and deciding on the cookies you want to bake and the chocolate covered strawberries you want to make.
Returning back to your apartment turns into absolute game time. With exactly three hours to ensure your cozy abode is in top-notch shape, the cookies are cooled, and the strawberries are set, y’all get to work.
The apartment becomes a whirlwind of movement. The loud, heavy bass of Latto and the City Girls blasts through your speakers, turning a standard straightening-up session into a high-stakes, high-energy military operation.
You find yourself dusting baseboards you haven't looked at since move-in day, scrubbing them with a ferocity that defies logic. Meanwhile, Suki is completely horizontal on your kitchen floor, reorganizing the cleaning supplies underneath your sink. She’s aggressively lining up the multi-surface sprays by height and label direction, as if Zuko is going to launch a full-scale investigation under the plumbing just to ensure it’s not a wreck.
“Suki, get out from under there! He is not checking my Fabuloso stash!” you shout over Rihanna’s Sex With Me, frantically fanning a tray of cookies to speed up the cooling process.
“You don't know his life, girl!” Suki yells back, her voice echoing from inside the cabinet as she fiercely wipes down a stray sponge. “He’s a corporate workaholic. Attention to detail is in his DNA! If he opens this door to throw away a napkin and sees chaos, the vibes are compromised!”
You groan, wiping your brow as you rush to the living room to fluff pillows that are already perfectly round. By the time the playlist transitions into a fast City Girls track, your paradise smells like a violent collision of Bath & Body Works vanilla, lemon bleach, and warm sugar. It is chaotic, it is completely unnecessary, but with the clock ticking closer to seven, you're grateful to have your best friend helping you secure the perimeter of Thee Baddie's Headquarters.
As you place the strawberries to set in the fridge, you inhale deeply before turning your head to look at Suki. Call it telepathy, call it women's intuition, but she nods and heads in the direction of your bedroom. You follow accordingly.
“All your sex toys clean and in their proper locations?” She questions, wiping down your nightstand that’s mostly spotless already from your frantic clean last night.
You choke on a little bit of air at the question. You pause in your goal of reorganizing your mini bookshelf that’s placed by your windowsill to give her a hard stare down. “If I tell you yes, you’ll tell me I’m planning to fuck him tonight. If I tell you no, you’ll clean them yourself and that feels like a step too far, so I’m just gonna say don’t worry about it,” you state sassily, returning to your task with a renewed vengeance.
She simply cackles behind you.Your response was a yes, and the attitude was pure defense—but who was she to call you out on it? The two of you move through your bedroom with coordinated efficiency. The pillows are fluffed, the freshly washed sheets are practically doused in your favorite linen spray, and your room is perfect.
You raise your hand and she slams hers into it with unbridled excitement. Y’all fucking did that.
Knock. Knock.
Your eyes slant to the clock.
6:45.
Of course he’s fifteen minutes early.
“I’m going to throw up in his lap,” you whisper, your feet suddenly glued to the plush rug that sits at the end of your bed. “You think that’ll make him block me? It will, won’t it? I’m going to be fucking sick. Do I smell? Do I look okay? Am I okay—”
Suki raises her hand and places it firmly over your mouth.
“I’m going to open the door. By the time I make it past the living room, you better have whatever this little moment is over with,” she instructs, turning on her heels.
“N-no, no,” you take big strides to catch up to her in the middle of the hallway. “I—I can do this. I am doing this. This is happening, and it’s okay, right?”
Suki stops dead in her tracks in the middle of the hallway, turning around to grab you by the shoulders. She gives you a firm, grounding shake, her eyes locking onto yours with total best-friend intensity.
"Listen to me," she commands, her voice leaving absolutely no room for doubt. "You look damn good. You smell like a decadent dessert, your hair looks phenomenal, and you got this. Remember, this is Thee Baddie Headquarters because a baddie walks these halls"
Her words instantly punch a hole through your mounting panic, the fierce validation acting like a heavy dose of smelling salts to your frayed nerves. Before you can even stammer out a reply, Suki breaks away, smoothly spinning on her heel as she heads into the living room. She quickly grabs her bag off the couch, slinging it over her shoulder in one fluid motion as she guides you toward the foyer.
With your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, your fingers wrap around the cold metal of the doorknob. You take one deep, sharp breath, force your shoulders back to lock into your inner baddie, and swing the door open.
Zuko is standing under the warm light of your apartment hallway. He looks completely breathtaking—clad in a heavy black hoodie that makes his broad shoulders look massive, perfectly offset by a pair of tailored, cream-colored lounge pants that pool slightly over his sneakers. His thick, dark hair is pulled back, and those intense, gold-flecked eyes soften the exact second they land on you. His bag is slung over his shoulders and a gift bag is in his hand.
"Hey," he murmurs, his deep, velvet voice instantly sending a pleasant shudder right down your spine.
“Hi, Zuko!” Suki pipes up cheerfully from behind you, effortlessly sliding past your frame before the tension in the doorway can even freeze over. She shoots him a brilliant, knowing wink, then cuts her eyes back to you with a proud grin. “Bye, girl! Y'all have fun watching those movies, but remember it’s okay if they end up watching y’all!”
And with that, your ultimate hype-woman struts down the corridor, leaving the two of you alone at the threshold of the headquarters.
“H-hi,” you clear your throat of the stutter, suddenly hyperaware of the situation at hand. The man you’ve been dating has officially arrived at your sanctuary. You shake your head softly, your smile widening as you wrap your hand around his free one, pulling him inside and into a hug.
As his arms wrap around you, you practically melt into him. He smells like an expensive heaven, and he’s so warm. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead—it’s sweet, but that’s absolutely not all you want from him.
You tilt your head back, lips slightly parted as you stand on your tiptoes, hooking your arms around his neck to bring him lower. He happily obliges, his lips finding yours in a deep, desperate, and passionately fierce kiss. Zuko groans into your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips as he tastes you, matching your frantic hunger with a heavy, possessive rhythm that completely validates Suki’s early read—there’s a dangerously high potential tonight of you folding like a lawn chair.
Zuko doesn’t break the kiss as he sets both bags down by his feet. Once his hands are free, he lifts you up effortlessly. One hand slides to your lower back underneath the thin material of your shirt, and the other goes right underneath your ass, holding you tight against him.
You moan as he nips your bottom lip before giving you a moment to breathe.
You bury your face into his neck, inhaling sharply. “I missed you,” you whisper, voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion.
It feels like a lifetime since you've touched him. He’s been out of the state and country for a relentless tech acquisition in Florida and Tokyo for two whole weeks—an absolute eternity considering the two of you usually see each other at least two to three times a week.
"Yeah?" Zuko hums, pulling his head back just enough to look at you. The sudden proximity of his sharp jawline and those burning gold eyes makes your cheeks burn with a sudden, beautiful warmth.
You nod eagerly, your lower lip slightly pouting as you tighten your grip on his shoulders. "Yes. Extremely. It was awful."
A devastatingly soft, unbothered smile breaks across his face, the fierce corporate legacy completely melting away into the man who belongs entirely to you. He wraps his arms even tighter around you, hoisting you higher against his chest as if he has absolutely no intention of ever setting you down.
"I missed you too," he confesses softly, his husky voice dropping into that quiet, heavy tone that makes your stomach do a lazy flip. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, his breath hot against your skin. "I really missed your hugs. I missed your sweet kisses... and I definitely missed this lovely scent of yours. You smell incredible, beautiful."
You giggle as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. Those two showers and the slathering of yourself in your favorite oils has successfully paid off.
You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, watching as it slides easily between your fingertips. It’s completely loose now, falling free and hitting right in between his shoulder blades in a way that makes him look entirely too devastating.
You grin down at him, your fingers gently combing through the back. "It’s definitely gotten longer since you left. It feels amazing."
Zuko lets out a low, vibrating chuckle against your chest, his eyes slanting up to look at you with a teasing glint. "You just want it to keep growing, don't you? Probably having conversations with my stylist to take me off his books."
"I am not," you giggle, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his sharp jawline. "You just look so incredibly handsome with long hair. It suits you."
You let your fingers tangle a little deeper into the thick strands at the nape of his neck, giving it a playful, incredibly gentle tug. You tilt your head, leaning in until your lips are brushing right against the shell of his ear, and drop your voice to a impish, breathless whisper.
"Besides... I like having something to pull on in bed."
Zuko goes entirely, completely rigid beneath you.
The words catch him entirely off guard. His breath hitches, his large hands locking tight on your waist as his eyes widen. For the past three months, the two of you have kept an incredibly disciplined pace—intense, soul-stealing make-out sessions on his couch or in his car were the absolute furthest you had gone. Hearing you drop a line like that, while wearing a tiny pink lace pajama set and smelling like warm vanilla, completely short-circuits his high-powered executive brain.
Before he can even open his mouth to reply, you let out a bright, victorious giggle. You unravel your legs from around his waist, effortlessly sliding down his large frame until your bare feet hit your plush rug.
"Come on," you beam, completely unbothered by the absolute crisis you just caused in his chest. You wrap your fingers around his large, warm hand, giving it a firm tug. "Let me show you around the estate."
Zuko stands there for a fraction of a second, clearing his throat as a faint, dark flush creeps up the back of his neck. He lets out a low, defeated chuckle, shaking his head as he lets you lead him forward.
"You are such a little troublemaker," he intones softly, his long fingers instantly interlocking with yours as you guide him out of the entryway. "A complete menace."
You grab his bag from the floor, your fingers brushing against his one last time before you turn on your heel to guide him down the short hallway.
"Welcome to the grand tour," you tease, gesturing to the first door on your left. "Guest bathroom, mostly used for emergency outfit changes and midnight skincare routines."
Zuko chuckles quietly behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back, his warm palm radiating heat right through the thin material of your lounge set.
You lead him to the next door, pushing it open to reveal the second bedroom. "And this is the command center. I transformed it into an office for my editorial job—where the magic actually happens and where I spend hours judging other people's grammar."
"Impressive," Zuko murmurs, his gold-flecked eyes scanning the organized rows of books, the sleek desk, and the framed prints on the wall. A look of genuine respect crosses his sharp features. "It suits you. Focused, but entirely elegant."
Your heart does a little flutter at the compliment, but you keep your stride moving, finally leading him into your master bedroom. The space absolutely screams your identity—drenched in your favorite colors, perfectly lit, and smelling faintly of the fresh strawberry-vanilla candles you and Suki had just meticulously placed. It is your ultimate sanctuary.
With a fluid, confident stride, you saunter over to your vanity and place his bag right on the plush vanity chair, turning back around to lean against the smooth marble counter.
You clasp your hands behind your back, tilting your head up to meet his intense, steady gaze. "And this is the inner sanctum. You are officially the first man to ever cross this threshold, Zuko. Tread carefully."
His gold eyes are slowly scanning your room; the soft lighting, the stack of notebooks on your nightstand, and the faint scent of linen spray Suki had left behind. A slow, incredibly warm expression softens his sharp features.
"It’s cute, Y/n," he states softly, stepping up beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He rests his chin right on your head, inhaling the vanilla from your hair. "It’s very saturated in you. Every corner of it. I like that a lot. And I’m incredibly honored to have this privilege to enter HQ"
Your heart does a happy flip. "Good. Because you're trapped here for the next twelve hours. No corporate escape routes."
"I don't want one," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before reluctantly letting you go so you can lead him back to the living room.
You guide him over to your sectional, and Zuko slides onto the cushions, looking surprisingly relaxed as he stretches his long legs out toward the tiered coffee table, right next to the massive pink bouquet he sent you earlier today in anticipation of your date. Something he does before every date. You grab the TV remote, a nervous but excited grin breaking across your face as you pull up the streaming dashboard.
"Alright good looking, welcome to Black Cinema 101," you declare, popping down onto the cushion right next to him and curling your legs up under yourself. "I put together the ultimate foundational trilogy, and a bonus watch. No notes allowed, but questions are encouraged."
Zuko turns his head, his hair brushing his shoulders as he gives you his full, undivided attention. "I'm ready. What's the lineup?"
“Alrighty, we’re starting off with a comedic classic: Madea. Except, I’m throwing you into it by showing you a play version first. There’s a lot of singing, fair warning. Lots of biblical references that don’t make sense, and behavior that’s so out of pocket you can’t do anything but just smile and nod,” you explain, counting on your fingers. “Then, we’ll slow things down and I’ll show you what I consider Black cinema horror, but it’s disguised as a ‘love story.’ It’s called Love & Basketball. And then we’ll watch The Player’s Club… I don’t know how to explain this one outside of drama, strippers, titties, and comedy. Lastly, if you can keep up, we’ll end with The Best Man.”
Zuko tracks your fingers, an amused, thoroughly intrigued smirk pulling at his lips. He reaches over, his large hand sliding behind your back and anchoring you closer to his side. He leaves his hand against your back, his thumb drawing a slow circle that sends a shiver straight up your spine.
"A comedy, a horror romance, a drama, and a mystery last genre," Zuko notes smoothly. "Sounds like a comprehensive curriculum. Any quizzes?"
"Perhaps," you laugh, leaning your shoulder against his chest as you hit play on the first recording. "But, if you just sit back, eat what I feed you, and hold me—I can give you all the answers."
"That," Zuko breathes, his hand slipping from your back to wrap around you entirely, "is a study guide I can follow perfectly."
As the first movie plays, Zuko proves to be an incredibly attentive student. He occasionally tilts his head down, his dark hair brushing your shoulder as he asks questions in a low whisper—mostly trying to unpack the sheer, complex velocity of Madea’s dialogue and the specific hierarchy of the family tree on screen. You excitedly answer every single one, gesturing with your hands and leaning into him, completely thrilled by how genuinely invested he is in learning about your world.
By the time the credits roll, your jaw actually aches from laughing so hard at his deadpan commentary on the plot twists.
You pick up the remote and navigate to the streaming menu, clicking on Love & Basketball. The iconic opening notes of the soundtrack start to hum softly through your living room speakers, but before the first scene can really start, you hit the pause button.
You shift your head upward, "Okay, half-time report. Do you want me to order the food now, or do you want to wait until after this one?"
Zuko shifts smoothly, stretching one long arm across the back of your sofa so his hand can rest comfortably near your shoulder. "Whatever you like, beautiful. I'm on your schedule tonight."
"Now," you decide instantly, a mischievous grin breaking across your face. "Because I want to make sure we're completely done with dinner by the time we hit The Players Club. I need full concentration for that one, and I want to be eating the cookies and strawberries I made for us by then."
"Sounds like a strategic masterpiece," Zuko notes, a slow, fond smirk pulling at his lips. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, pulls out his sleek, matte-black phone, and effortlessly extends it toward you. "Order whatever you want."
You look at the phone, then look up at his face, your lips instantly puckering into a dramatic, stubborn pout. You cross your arms over your chest. "Zuko, no. Put that away. This is my apartment, my movie night, and I am paying for dinner. I already told you I had it covered."
Zuko doesn't lower the phone. He just stares at you, his striking gold eyes glinting with a heavy, utterly unbothered amusement at your defiance. The sharp executive who ruthlessly runs a corporate empire doesn't even blink.
"Give me a kiss," he commands softly, his voice falling into that deep, gravelly register that completely melts your stance.
"Zuko—"
"Y/n," he murmurs, leaning his massive frame into your space until his warm breath brushes your lips. "Give me a kiss, and I’ll even throw in you typing the order yourself."
You let out a helpless, defeated laugh, your pout dissolving into a bright smile. You lean forward, catching his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that tastes faintly of your vanilla lip oil. Zuko groans softly, his large hand instantly coming up to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss for a breathless, possessive second before he slowly pulls back, leaving you slightly dazed.
He presses the phone into your palm, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. "There. You just paid."
"You are completely impossible," you giggle, shaking your head as you open the food delivery app on his phone. You quickly select the Thai place down the street. “What does my dictator want to eat for dinner?” You adjust so that he can see the phone screen with you.
Zuko doesn’t bother looking at the menu, his gaze remains fixed on the way his phone screen illuminates all of your features in a way that makes his heart skip a beat. “Whatever you order is what I would like to eat, my little tyrant.”
You giggle into his shoulder, adding the pad see ew and a double order of crab rangoon before sliding his phone onto the coffee table next to the pink peonies.
You hit play on Love & Basketball, leaning back into his side as the movie officially begins. Zuko’s arm pulls you securely against his chest, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your bare shoulder over the lace trim of your top.
As the story of Quincy and Monica unfolds, the initial nostalgia of the classic romance gives way to the reality of their relationship. By the time Quincy begins projecting his frustrations onto Monica and pushing her away, you feel Zuko’s entire frame tense up behind you.
"I don't understand this," Zuko grumbles, his deep voice carrying a sharp, critical edge as he stares at the screen. He shifts slightly, tightening his grip on your waist. "He clearly wants her. He's furious and hurting because of his family, but instead of leaning on the person who actually supports him, he pushes her away. Why does he do that?"
You let out a soft, thoughtful sigh, tilting your head up to look at his sharp profile. "It's a defense mechanism, honey. He feels like he's losing control of his life, so he takes control of the one thing he can—which means cutting her out before she can leave him."
Zuko frowns, his eyes narrowing at the TV. "And why does she stay? Why does she keep letting him back in after he treats her like an afterthought? This... this is toxic. It's a struggle."
"You're completely right," you admit softly, running a hand over his forearm, feeling the solid, grounding warmth of his skin. "Honestly, this isn't my favorite film for exactly that reason. The way 'struggle love' is portrayed here—like you have to go through absolute hell and emotional exhaustion just to prove your loyalty—is really toxic. But it's a massive part of the culture. For a long time, this was the standard for cinematic romance in our community. A lot of us grew up thinking that true love meant enduring the pain until the other person finally got it together."
Zuko quiets down for a moment, the heavy weight of your words sinking in. He turns his head, his dark hair brushing your temple as he looks down at you with an expression of absolute, fierce intensity.
"I don't like it," he murmurs, voice low and fiercely protective. He brings his other hand up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb wiping across your cheekbone. "You shouldn't have to fight a war just to be loved, Y/n. Love shouldn't be a struggle."
Your heart swells so painfully tight in your chest that you can barely breathe. The contrast between the chaotic, emotionally draining relationship on the screen and the absolute, unyielding safety of the man holding you in your own living room is dizzying.
"I know," you whisper, a soft, incredibly smitten smile taking over your face as you lean over to press a sweet kiss to the center of his cheek. "That's why I'm glad I have you. You make it easy….really, really easy"
The movie continues, but the deep, grounding weight of Zuko’s words lingers in the warm space between you. As the characters on screen navigate another layer of emotional friction, the urge to be even closer to him completely overrides your attention to the plot.
Halfway through the film, right as the slow jams of the soundtrack begin to swell, you shift your weight. You uncurl your legs from beneath your shorts, twisting your body on the cushions until you are straddling his thighs, sitting completely in his lap.
Zuko doesn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. The moment you move, his large hands automatically slide under the hem of your loose pink top, his warm, calloused palms locking firmly onto your waist to anchor you securely against him. He shifts back slightly against the sofa cushions to give you more room, his eyes darkening instantly as he looks up at you in the flickering light of the TV.
"Everything alright, beautiful?" he questions, voice sitting at an octave that sends a jolt down your spine and to your toes.
"Perfect," you whisper, wrapping your arms comfortably around his broad shoulders. You sink your weight fully into his lap, the soft cotton and lace of your pajamas offering absolutely no barrier against the solid, radiating heat of his body. "I just wanted to be closer to you. The couch was too big."
A quiet, utterly amused chuckle ripples through his chest. Zuko adjusts his grip, his large hands sliding slightly lower to cup the back of your thighs, lifting you just enough to press you even tighter against his torso. He leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your warm skin right where you applied the vanilla and amber oil.
"I'm not complaining," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm. "You can stay right here for the rest of the night."
You let out a soft, contented hum, your fingers tangling into the strands of his hair. On screen, the basketball court fades into the background as you focus entirely on the steady, powerful rhythm of his breathing.
You rest your chin on his shoulder, your fingers lazily alternating between playing with the ends of his hair where it brushes against his hoodie and massaging his scalp lightly. The movie plays on, a background blur of bright court lights and dramatic dialogue, but the real focus of the room has completely shifted to the small space you two share on the velvet cushions.
Zuko’s hands stay firmly stationed on your waist, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin just beneath the lace trim of your top. The warmth radiating from his palms is completely intoxicating, sinking deep into your core. Every time the TV screen flashes a brighter light, you can see the dark, intent look in his gold eyes as he watches you instead of the screen.
"You're missing the pivotal turning point," you tease in a breathless whisper, your lips brushing against his jawline. "Monica is literally playing him for his heart right now."
"I don't care," Zuko rumbles smoothly, his voice dropping into that heavy, husky note that sends a delicious shiver straight down your spine. He tilts his head up, his nose sliding along the column of your neck until his lips are hovering a mere fraction of an inch from yours. "I've already decided how I feel about the movie. I'm much more interested in my tyrant."
You let out a soft, helpless giggle, the vibrations buzzing right against his chest. "Oh, really? And what's your executive assessment, Mr. Dictator?"
"The tyrant is entirely too distracting," he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours with a sudden, fierce intensity. "She wears pink, she smells like vanilla, and she has me completely at her mercy in a tiny apartment."
Before you can even formulate a snappy retort, the sharp, cheerful buzz of the building's intercom echoes from the kitchen wall, signaling that the Thai food has officially arrived downstairs and is on its way up.
You let out a dramatic, exaggerated groan, resting your forehead against his chest. "No, perfect timing is a myth. The universe hates me."
Zuko lets out a rich, deep chuckle that shakes his entire frame beneath you. He doesn't let go of your waist right away, giving you one last, firm squeeze before pressing a deep, stealing kiss to your mouth that leaves your head spinning.
"Stay put," he commands softly, a lazy, utterly unbothered smirk pulling at his lips as he effortlessly shifts you off his lap and onto the cushion next to him. He stands up, stretching his massive frame and running a hand through his dark hair as he heads toward the entryway. "I’ll grab the food, we’ll eat, and then we start The Players Club."
You stay nestled on the sofa for a brief second, your body instantly missing the radiating heat of his frame the moment he steps away. The movie on the screen is completely forgotten as you listen to the heavy, confident thud of Zuko’s footsteps echoing down your short hallway, followed by the deep rumble of his voice as he opens the front door to thank the delivery driver.
A moment later, he strolls back into the living room, effortlessly carrying the heavy brown paper bag in one hand. The mouth-watering scent of savory garlic, sweet peanut sauce, and fried crab rangoon immediately fills the air, completely overtaking the gentle scent of your vanilla candles.
"Smells incredible," Zuko notes, pausing at the edge of the living room. His eyes sweep over the space, landing on the coffee table stacked with your peonies, the remote, and his phone. He looks down at the floor, then back up at you with a raised eyebrow. "Are we eating at the table, or do you have another strategic masterpiece in mind, beautiful?"
"Floor," you declare instantly, a playful grin lighting up your face. You slide off the velvet cushions, grabbing the extra oversized plush pillows from the armchair and tossing them onto the thick, cream-colored area rug in front of the TV. "It's a movie night law. Couch is for watching, floor is for feasting."
Zuko lets out a quiet amused chuckle, the sound resonating warmly in his chest. "As the princess commands."
He doesn't hesitate to join you, dropping down onto the rug with a fluid, surprising grace for a man of his massive size. He discards the paper bag between you both, immediately kicking off his shoes and loosening the collar of his hoodie to get comfortable. He leans back against the base of the sofa, stretching his long legs out across the rug, creating a perfect, secure little V-shaped nook between his thighs.
"Come here," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that smooth register. He pats the space right in front of him.
You don't need to be told twice. You slide backward into his chest, letting out a contented sigh as Zuko’s large frame instantly wraps around you from behind. He adjusts a plush pillow behind your back, locking his solid arms loosely around your waist to anchor you against him. You are completely enveloped in his warmth, your back pressed flush against his broad chest, your head resting perfectly just below his chin.
"Comfortable?" he questions, his breath stirring the loose hairs at your temple.
"Extremely," you purr, already reaching into the bag to pull out the styrofoam containers.
You pop open the container of pad see ew, steam immediately billowing out, carrying the rich scent of sweet soy sauce and char-grilled noodles. You grab the two pairs of chopsticks, handing one back blindly over your shoulder. Zuko takes them, his large, calloused fingers brushing against yours, sending a familiar, delicious spark straight to your core.
"Here, try the crab rangoon first while it's hot," you say, breaking apart a crispy, golden wonton pouch and holding it up toward him.
Zuko leans forward slightly, his sharp jawline brushing your cheek as he takes a bite straight from your hand. He chews slowly, a look of genuine satisfaction washing over his usually stoic, intense features. "Incredible. Your Thai place down the street might actually be a threat to my favorite spots downtown."
"I told you so," you brag softly, turning your head to flash him a smug, dimpled smile. "Never doubt my executive decisions when it comes to takeout."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with that heavy, unyielding fondness that always makes your heart skip. He dips his own chopsticks into the container of noodles, expertly gathering a perfect bite of the wide, glossy noodles and tender chicken, guiding it carefully to your lips. "Open up, tyrant."
You giggle, accepting the bite. The savory, slightly sweet flavor is perfect, and you let out a soft groan of pure happiness, melting even deeper back into his solid torso, “A princess and a tyrant, huh?”
He hums, glancing down at you for a moment, not at all surprised to see you staring at him through your lashes, “Mhmm, a rather charming one too. She’s commanding and gets exactly what she wants, with little to no questions asked. Borderline committed a hostile take over earlier when she climbed on top of me, so steer clear of her.”
You cackle, eyes crinkling as you throw your head back in laughter. “ It’s not like you tell me no? So, I think you’re reaping what you sowed, wouldn’t you agree?”
You hold his gaze, beaming up at him with nothing short of pure joy and contentment. Your heart skips a beat and your lips part slightly as you witness his lips pull into a smile that has you thinking about all the positions he could put you in on the floor.
He’s stunning.
“Princess,” he states, his deep, husky voice dipping into an octave so intimate it makes your heart swell. “If being in your presence, holding you in my arms, and getting the chance to simply gaze upon your beauty is a harvest I’ve earned... I’d spend a lifetime reaping what I sowed.”
Your breath catches in your throat. The absolute, fierce pride and sincerity in his gaze is dizzying, completely eclipsing the thoughts that were racing through your mind just a second ago.
He leans down, his sharp jawline brushing against your cheek as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your oil before pressing a slow, lingering kiss right against your warm skin.
"I don't say no to you," he confesses softly against your skin, his warm breath sending a delicious shiver straight down your spine, "because giving you everything you want is the easiest thing I've ever done."
You let out a shaky, entirely smitten sigh. You close your eyes to take a moment, allowing yourself to feel the weight of his words—and his actions. He kisses you like you’re the very sustenance providing him with life. He holds you as if you’re the only thing that grounds him. He speaks to you with a sincerity and air that conveys there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing than conversing with you. The flowers he sends before every date. The intentionality in which he plans all of your dates. The way he offers reassurance at every step of the way; paired with the fact that he does check-ins to ensure you’re comfortable with everything he does. How he kisses you, how he touches you, every step of the way he’s making sure everything is alright.
What a man!
“You’re fucking perfect,” you whisper quietly, fluttering your eyes open to see him peering down at you. “I do think you were made for me and I hope that’s not being too forward.”
Zuko freezes against your skin, the powerful, calculated man completely vanishing as your words strike him right in the chest. When he pulls back to look down at you, his gold eyes are burning with an intensity that is almost overwhelming.
"Forward?" he echoes, his voice rough and incredibly thick. His large hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb wiping across your cheekbone with a reverence that borders on worship. "Beautiful, you could demand the world from me right now and I’d figure out a way to hand it to you. You say jump, and I’m happily asking how high. The universe doesn’t get many things right, but with you and I being made for one another? It did phenomenal work.”
A breathless, utterly captivated laugh escapes your throat. You lean your face up into his large palm, kissing the warm meat of his thumb. “Phenomenal work, huh? I guess I’ll have to write a five-star review for the universe.”
You reach up, your fingers tangling into the soft fabric of his hoodie to tug him down just an inch closer. “But since you’re happily asking how high... I demand that you kiss me right now. Because you completely ruined my train of thought and I’m at your mercy on this rug.”
Zuko’s lips pull into a slow, thoroughly pleased smirk, his eyes darkening with a sudden, heavy heat. “Consider it done,” he rumbles.
He doesn't make you move from your spot between his legs. Instead, he leans his massive frame over your shoulder, his large hand sliding from your jaw to cup the back of your neck. His long fingers grip gently but firmly, tilting your head back and up at an angle that exposes the long line of your throat.
The moment his mouth seals over yours, any lingering air in your lungs completely evaporates. It isn't the sweet, tentative kiss from earlier on the couch; this is a deep, intoxicating claim. His lips are warm and firm, parting yours with an unhurried, possessive confidence that makes your head spin instantly. Because you're pressed flush against his broad chest, you can feel the heavy, ragged thud of his heart echoing straight into your back.
He groans softly into the kiss, the low vibration rattling deep in his chest and buzzing right against your tongue. He pulls you even tighter against his torso with his free arm, his solid forearm locking around your waist and lifting you just a fraction against him. The calloused edge of his thumb sweeps along your jawline, pressing just firmly enough to make a soft, helpless whimper escape your throat as he deepens the kiss from above.
Zuko drinks the sound in like a starving man. The scent of him—expensive cedar wood, rich amber, and pure, clean heat, envelops you entirely, erasing the rest of the apartment until the only thing that exists is the sensation of his lips against yours.
When his tongue strokes against yours, it’s slow, rhythmic, and devastatingly thorough, turning your insides into absolute liquid. Your hand reaches blindly backward, your fingers gripping his shoulder and digging into the fabric of his hoodie just to keep yourself grounded as the world tilts on its axis. Every touch of his mouth feels deliberate, a perfect physical translation of the devotion he just promised you.
By the time he slowly pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his breath fanning across your swollen lips. He rests his sharp chin gently on your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he takes a deep, stabilizing breath against your skin.
"See?" he murmurs, his voice completely wrecked, deep, and echoing right against your collarbone. "Easiest thing I've ever done. Now eat before the food gets cold, tyrant."
You exhale softly, rolling your eyes playfully, “ahhh, the dictator's back–BUT–lucky for me he’s handsome and fuckable.”
The deep, grounding breath he was just taking hitches sharply in his throat. For a long, heavy second, the only sound in the apartment is the soft hum of the television. Zuko is a man used to being in absolute control of every boardroom and corporate empire he touches, but right now, sitting on your living room floor, you have completely short-circuited his brain.
Slowly, his head lifts from your shoulder. When you glance back, his gold eyes are wide, darkened with a sudden, scorching heat that makes the breath trap in your throat. A flush creeping up his sharp neck proves just how heavily your words landed.
"Y/n," he exhales. His voice has dropped into a dangerously low, gravelly octave, completely stripped of its corporate polish. He swallows hard, his large hands anchoring onto your waist with a sudden, firm grip that presses your back flush against his chest. "You cannot say things like that to me right now."
"Why not?" you tease, your voice a breathless whisper as you turn your head to hold his intense gaze.
"Because I am trying very hard to be a gentleman," Zuko confesses roughly, his thumb twitching against your hip. He looks around your cozy, vanilla-scented apartment, a visual reminder that he is a guest in your sacred space for the very first time. "It’s my first night here. I promised myself I’d be on my best behavior, keep my hands to myself, and commit every movie we watched to memory; which is getting very hard to do with you looking and talking to me like that."
You tsk playfully, pushing the takeout containers away and turning in his hold. He assists you in your adjustment, his large hands instinctively guiding your hips, allowing you to sit completely in his lap.
You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in until your lips are almost touching his ear. “What if… I said I don’t want you on your best behavior? Or to keep those hands of yours to yourself?”
You pull back just enough to watch his reaction, and the payoff is glorious. The powerful, usually unshakeable man completely freezes beneath you. You can visibly see his brain short-circuiting in real-time, his sharp jaw locking tight as he stares at you, utterly stunned and entirely undone by your boldness.
Your smile widens, a triumphant, rasaclly little grin breaking across your face.
"Cat got your tongue, honey?" you tease in a breathless whisper.
To drive the point home, you slowly roll your hips against his. The sudden friction causes a low, completely involuntary hitch in Zuko’s chest—but the playful smirk on your lips suddenly falters. Because the cotton of your pajama shorts is so thin, the deliberate movement allows you to feel the solid, unmistakable ridge of his rapidly growing erection pressing hard against your center.
You freeze, your breath catching in your own throat this time. The sheer, overwhelming size of him makes you pause, your eyes widening as the reality of what you're playing with sinks in.
You swallow hard, your voice dropping into a stunned, entirely unfiltered whisper. "You're... you're packing, aren't you?"
Zuko practically chokes on air.
A heavy, ragged swallow hitches in Zuko’s throat, his broad chest heaving as he desperately tries to claw back some semblance of his breathing. The hot flush on his neck deepens, burning a fierce red in the dim light of the room. He looks at you, completely flabbergasted, his mouth parting slightly before he clamps it shut again, utterly bewildered by how effortlessly you just flipped the script on him.
When he finally finds his voice, it’s completely ruined—deep, rough, and flourishing with an intense, gravelly heat.
"Y/n," he chokes out, his hands finally moving from where they had frozen mid-air. Instead of pulling away, his large, warm palms slam flat against the floor right behind your hips, bracing his massive frame as if he needs the physical support just to survive your presence. "You... you cannot just say things like that."
A muffled, dark growl builds in the back of his throat as he watches your shocked expression morph right back into a thrilled, highly entertained grin.
"I mean it," he mumurs, leaning forward until his forehead drops right against your shoulder with a defeated, heavy thud. His broad shoulders shake with a breathless, half-strangled laugh against your skin. "I am sitting in your apartment, trying to be the most respectful, well-behaved man on the planet, and you are actively trying to destroy me."
He slowly lifts his head, his gold eyes blazing with a sudden, devastatingly heavy focus that makes your stomach do a delicious flip. The initial shock is fading, replaced by a thick, simmering tension that fills the entire space between your bodies.
His hand leaves the floor, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your hip, squeezing just enough to remind you of the sheer size of the man holding you. He glances down at the paper bag you pushed aside, then looks back up at you, his thumb tracing a heavy, warning circle against your skin.
"Princess... you need to eat," Zuko murmurs, his voice dropping into a dangerously low, tight tone that tells you he is holding onto his control by a literal thread. "Because if you don't start putting that food in your mouth right now, I am going to find a much different use for it, and I can promise you that dinner will be the last thing on your mind."
You simply smile and shift back into place. You’re folding before the night ends and oh how lovely that will be.
For the next twenty minutes, the living room descends into a cozy, perfectly synchronized rhythm. You hit play on the remote, but neither of you is really paying attention to the screen anymore. Instead, you share the food right there on the floor, trading bites of noodles, laughing softly whenever a drop of sauce threatens to ruin your pink top, and enjoying the absolute, unhurried peace of the night. Zuko's large hand occasionally abandons his chopsticks just to rest heavily on your thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles through the soft fabric of your shorts.
As the final contents of the noodle box disappear, you lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at his sharp profile in the dim, flickering light of the television.
"Alright," you whisper, your voice thick with contentment. "The savory course is officially cleared. Are you ready for the grand finale?"
Zuko sets the empty containers aside, his arms instantly wrapping tightly around your waist again, pulling you so close that you can feel the steady, powerful thumping of his heart against your back. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.
"Bring on the cookies and strawberries, beautiful," he purrs against your skin, a low, possessive growl humming through his chest. "And turn on The Players Club. I want to see what requires your full concentration—because right now, all of mine is on you."
You shift slightly against his chest, a soft, thrilled shiver rippling over your skin at the promise in his tone. The warmth of his body acts like a magnet, making it incredibly hard to actually disentangle yourself from the secure nook of his thighs , but the sweet scent of the strawberry cookies and chocolate-covered strawberries waiting in the kitchen provides just enough motivation.
"Get cozy on the couch and start warming the blanket. This is going to be the movie to surpass all movies thus far," you instruct, tilting your head back to press a quick, playful kiss to his jawline before sliding out of his embrace.
He lets out a small laugh, but follows your instructions. He sets the containers back into the bag, efficiently cleaning up the small mess the two of you made.
From around the corner in the kitchen, you can't see him, but you smile as you listen to the familiar, comforting sounds of him carrying the trash to the bin and adjusting the plush pillows on the sectional.
"Blanket is warming, princess," his deep voice calls out, echoing warmly into the kitchen with that signature dry, amused undertone. "Your fortress is secured. Come back and defend it."
You let out a bright giggle , the cool hardwood beneath your bare feet a sharp contrast to the thick rug you just left. You reach into the cabinets and pull out a pretty pink serving tray, arranging everything meticulously. On one side, you set the chilled platter of strawberries—meticulously dipped in milk chocolate and perfectly set in neat, glossy rows. On the other, you arrange the homemade strawberry cookies. The rich, fruity, and buttery scent still hangs faintly in the air , a sweet reminder of how hard you and Suki had worked to get the headquarters ready.
Balancing the pink tray carefully in your hands, you navigate back to the living room. Your heart does a happy little dance when you see him—swallowed up by your blankets and looking entirely at peace , his golden eyes locking onto you the exact second you reappear.
"The grand finale has officially arrived," you announce, stepping over to the couch.
You carefully set the pink tray down on the tiered coffee table right next to your bouquet. Before Zuko can even reach out to pull you down, you take the initiative and shock him completely. With a fluid, confident step, you climb right into his lap yourself, sliding your legs over so you are sitting completely sideways across his broad, solid thighs, your back plush against the sofa.
Zuko’s breath hitches sharply, his entire body going entirely rigid beneath you for a split second. He was fully prepared to play the patient gentleman and let you call all the shots , so your sudden, unprompted boldness completely catches him off guard.
A victorious, playful little smile pulls at your lips as you watch his eyes widen in beautiful, raw surprise. But he recovers with terrifying speed. A fainr, completely captivated chuckle hums deep in his chest , and his large, warm hands instantly lock onto your waist, assisting you in your adjustment and anchoring you tightly against his torso.
He pulls the heavy, warm blanket up and over both of your laps, completely enveloping your smaller frame in his radiating heat. He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips lingering against your right where your vanilla and amber oil smells the most potent.
"You are full of surprises tonight, beautiful," he breathes, his grip on your waist giving you a firm, possessive squeeze. "Now hit play. Let's see what requires this legendary level of concentration."
You pick up the remote, navigate to the streaming dashboard, and click on The Players Club. As the iconic, high-energy dramatic music starts to swell through the living room speakers , you reach over to the tray and pick up one of the pink strawberry cookies, taking a soft, sweet bite.
You tilt your head up, holding a cold, chocolate-dipped strawberry up to his lips. "Open up, handsome. Let's see if you can handle Dolla’ Bill and Diamond, or if you're just going to keep staring at me the entire time,” he releases an amused huff as he leans down to take a bite of the delicious treat straight from your fingers. His lips warm as they brush against your hand.
You try your absolute best to keep your eyes locked on the screen, determined to maintain your full concentration as Diamond navigates the chaotic backrooms of the club. But it is proving to be an uphill battle.
Even though you were the one who demanded he pay attention, your mind is currently taking a one-way trip to the deep end of how wonderful this night could go if you end up underneath him by the time this movie finishes.
Because you’re sitting sideways across his lap, you are hyper-aware of every single detail of his body. The broad, immovable expanse of his chest is pressed flush against your side, and you can feel the rigid, unyielding muscle of his thighs beneath you. Worse, every time you shift even a fraction of an inch to take a bite of your strawberry cookie, you can still feel the heavy, solid ridge of him pressing firmly against your hip under the thin blanket. The sheer size of him—paired with the wicked memory of what you just teased him about, is making your core ache with a heavy, needy throb.
Meanwhile, Zuko is actually being a model student. True to his promise to learn more about your culture, his golden eyes are locked onto the screen, his expression a mix of intense focus and utter bewilderment.
“Wait,” Zuko mutters, gesturing towards the TV. “ Dolla’ Bill is supposed to be running a successful club, but you’re telling me he’s not paying the people who loaned the money to him? And now he’s putting his security in trouble because he’s hiding?”
You let out a weak, slightly breathless hum, your mind completely tracking the way his large hand is currently resting flat on your waist, his thumb casually rubbing through the thin cotton of your top. You swallow hard, trying to process his question through the heavy fog of desire settling over your brain. "Uh... yeah. He's greedy. Selfish…very all about him."
You look up at his sharp profile, completely captivated by the crisp line of his jaw and the plush fullness of his lips. Your heart skips a beat, your eyes dropping to his mouth as you imagine exactly what those lips felt like when he was devouring you just minutes ago on the rug. You think about him pinning your wrists above your head, about the weight of his massive frame pressing you down, about how loud he would groan if you rolled your hips against him just one more time.
"Y/n?" Zuko questions softly, breaking the spell.
He turns his head, noticing the quiet stillness that has come over you. When his gold eyes meet yours, he doesn't find the enthusiastic film guide who was loud and proud during the first two films. Instead, he sees your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips, and the dark, heavy gaze you're using to track the movement of his throat.
A slow, thoroughly knowing smirk gradually pulls at the corner of his lips. He instantly recognizes that look. The strict gentlemanly restraint he was forcing himself to maintain softens, replaced by a glint of heavy, unbothered amusement.
"Princess," he rasps, his hand on your waist tightening, his fingers digging into your hip just firmly enough to make you gasp. He leans down, nipping your ear lightly with his teeth, his voice dipping into a wickedly quiet pitch. "You're not paying attention to Diamond at all, are you?"
He feels the way you shudder against him and when he pulls away to get a good look at your face, you’re wearing a grin that’s dismantling his composure in every sense of the word. You’re up to no good—and he’s acutely aware of that.
“Give me a kiss,” you demand.
The words leave your lips like an ultimatum, and the effect they have on Zuko is immediate.
The low, knowing smirk on his lips completely vanishes, his mouth parting slightly in a ragged, silent breath as his entire frame locks up under your thighs. He stares down at you, his eyes wide and burning with a dark, electric heat that proves your raw confidence has shattered whatever fragile hold he had left on his composure.
"Y/n," he groans out. It's a warning, a desperate plea for you to stop pushing him, but the way his long fingers effortlessly dig deeper into the meat of your hip entirely betrays him.
You don't back down. Instead, your grin only widens, your hands sliding up the heavy cotton of his hoodie to wrap firmly around the back of his neck, your fingers tangling slightly into the long, loose strands of his hair. You give a deliberate, unyielding tug, pulling his massive frame down until his mouth is a mere breath away from yours.
"I didn't ask you what my name was, Mr. Dictator," you whisper teasingly, holding his scorching gaze through your lashes. "I said, give me a kiss."
"God help me, you are something else," he rasps against your lips.
Before you can even flash a triumphant smile, his large hand flies from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers locking firmly into your hair to tilt your head back. He claims your mouth with a sudden, bruising certainty that leaves you completely breathless, his lips parting yours in a deep, intoxicating rush that proves he is entirely done trying to be good.
You moan directly into the heavy, intoxicating warmth of his mouth, the soft sound trapped between your lips as you tighten your hold around his neck. The pure intensity of his kiss is dizzying, making your head spin instantly.
Desperate to feel the contrast of his skin, you slide one of your hands down from the silky strands of his hair, tracing the broad line of his shoulder until your fingers find his large hand stationed around your waist. Your palms meet, your fingers loosely interlocking with his over the thin cotton of your top.
But before you can guide his hand anywhere, you force yourself to pull back just a fraction of an inch.
Your breathing is shallow and completely uneven, your lips swollen and tingling from the sheer weight of his claim. You look up at him through your lashes, your heart hammering a frantic, wild rhythm against his chest as you take in his darkened gold eyes and the hot flush creeping up his sharp jawline.
"Zuko," you whisper breathlessly, your thumb tracing a slow, trembling line across the back of his large knuckles. "Can I... can I be forward one more time?"
Zuko lets out a rough exhale, his warm breath fanning across your damp lips. The strict gentlemanly restraint he had been clinging to all night is almost entirely gone, replaced by an unyielding, thorough devotion that burns in his gaze. His hand on your waist tightens, holding your hips so securely against his thighs that you can feel every single inch of him pressing hard against you.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice completely undone, gravelly, and scraping heavily against his throat as his long fingers slide up to cup your jawline with a reverence that borders on worship. "You can be as forward as you’d like. I'm entirely at your mercy tonight."
You tilt your head, a sheepish grin playing on your lips as you hold his intense gaze. Slowly, you guide his hand, inching his long fingers down the side of your stomach, letting his warm palm slide over the curve of your hip before you finally pause, resting his hand right against your outer thigh.
"You're always asking me if things are okay and if something is too much," you murmur, your voice dropping into a quiet, tentative whisper that hangs sweetly in the space between your faces. "I'm turning those questions back on to you. How far is too far, and what's okay and not okay?"
Zuko stops breathing entirely for a long second.
For a moment, he simply stares at you, his eyes wide as the weight of your question sinks into his chest. The large hand resting against your thigh tenses slightly, his calloused fingers twitching against the thin fabric of your pink shorts. He is a man who spent the last three months carefully structuring every boundary, entirely intent on keeping his word and ensuring you felt completely safe in his presence. Hearing you offer that same meticulous protection back to him completely shatters his ability to speak.
Slowly, the tension in his broad shoulders softens, a look of profound, overwhelming tenderness overtaking his sharp features. He doesn't pull his hands away from your hips. Instead, his fingers simply loosen their grip, his warm palms resting flat against your skin with a reverence that makes your throat tighten.
"Y/n," he murmurs, his voice incredibly thick, heavy, and quiet in the dim light of the television.
He lifts one hand from your hip, his long fingers gently sweeping a stray braid behind your ear, his touch so light and deliberate it makes a soft shiver ripple down your spine. He holds your gaze, ensuring you can see the absolute sincerity and clarity shining in his gold-flecked eyes.
"Nothing you do could ever be 'too much' for me," he confesses quietly, a small, incredibly smitten smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I am completely, entirely yours. If you wanted to take things all the way tonight, I would stay right here on this couch and let you have your way with me until morning. I don't have boundaries when it comes to what I'll give you."
His hand sits warmly against the upper part of your thigh, his thumb tracing a heavy, soothing circle against your skin under the blanket, grounding you both in the quiet safety of the apartment.
"But it’s our very first night in your space," Zuko continues gently, his gaze dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours with an unyielding warmth. "And I know how important it is to you that we take our time and build this right. So, what is okay with me? Anything that makes you feel cherished, beautiful. We can stay right here, tangled up under this blanket, eating strawberry cookies and making out for the next ten hours, and it will still be the best night of my life. You set the line. Wherever you draw it, I'll happily stand right behind it."
Your fingers wrap tightly around his large wrist, breaking the quiet stillness of his speech as you deliberately guide his hand down. You slide his warm palm lower, moving past the edge of your pink shorts until his fingers glide directly beneath the thin material. The second his calloused hand presses against the bare, sensitive skin between your legs, the reality of what you're doing hits him like a physical blow.
You’re pantyless. You’re soaking.
Zuko is utterly paralyzed by the sheer, exhilarating rush of heat greeting his fingertips. You are completely slick, a beautifully warm and heavy mess that you made entirely because of him, and the absolute absence of any panties under your cotton shorts completely short-circuits his mind. He can feel the direct, unshielded pulse of your arousal right against his touch, making him acutely aware of just how deeply his kisses and the heavy weight of his erection have unravelled you.
Your lips part at the delicious sensation of his hands on you without any barrier.
"Y/n," he chokes out. His voice is barely a whisper, completely stripped of its usual weight, sounding entirely undone as he looks up at you through his dark lashes. "You... you aren't wearing—"
"I told you I didn't want you on your best behavior," you murmur, your voice dropping into a daring, flushed confession as you hold his wide, scorching gaze. To drive the point completely home, you gently press down on his hand, shifting your hips just a fraction of an inch sideways across his thighs.
The deliberate movement causes his calloused fingers to slide directly through your slickness, and a sharp, ragged groan rips from Zuko’s throat.
Your restrained gentleman’s control is damn near gone and you aren’t helping, nor do you have any ambitions to.
The large, trembling hand you are holding suddenly takes over entirely, his long fingers parting the thin cotton of your shorts with a sudden, possessive confidence that makes your heart stutter. He doesn't pull away. Instead, his palm cups you entirely, his thumb finding the exact center of your ache and pressing just firmly enough to make your hips hitch off his lap with a sharp, helpless whimper.
A hoarse, dark chuckle resonantes from deep in Zuko’s chest at the soft whimper that slips from your lips, his fingers flexing against your hip to keep you securely aligned with him.
He doesn't rush. Instead, he uses the sleek warmth he’s gathered to glide his thumb up and over your sensitive clit one more time, deliberately testing your responsiveness. Your hips instinctively twitch upward, chasing the contact, and that subtle, desperate movement is all it takes to make his golden eyes darken to near-black.
Slowly, deliberately, Zuko curves his hand, the tip of his long, index finger nudging against your entrance.
He watches you with a rapt, unblinking intensity, his sharp features completely locked onto your face as he pushes past the tight embrace of your muscles and slips a finger inside.
A sharp breath trips in your throat, your eyes fluttering shut as your head drops against his shoulder. A soft, undone moan ripples past your lips, and the sound is music to him. Zuko’s thumb instantly finds your clit, anchoring his hand against you as he stays perfectly still inside your tight, blazingly hot depth, letting you adjust to the sudden thickness of him.
"Look at me, beautiful," he commands softly, his voice dropping into that thick, commanding tone that captivates your attention. He nudges his jaw against your temple, his voice a rough command against your skin. "Open your eyes. Let me see you."
Through a heavy, desire-fueled fog, you force your eyelids open, your gaze instantly colliding with the fierce, burning heat of his gold eyes. He is looking at you with a reverence so profound it makes your throat tighten, tracking the ragged rise and fall of your chest.
Seeing that you're looking right back at him, Zuko hooks his finger slightly, curling upward to find the exact spot that makes your entire body tremble. He curls it again, beginning a slow, agonizingly deep stroke that pulls a loud, high-pitched gasp straight out of your throat.
"There’s my beautiful girl," Zuko exhales, his composure completely fracturing as he watches your lips part, your features twisting into a beautiful expression of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He begins to move his finger in a steady, unhurried rhythm, matching the deliberate press of his thumb against your center. "So warm and wet... and you did all of this just sitting in my lap."
You nod breathlessly, the simple movement feeling heavy and monumental under the weight of his stare. Desperate to get even closer to the heat of his skin, you slide your hands right past the soft cotton collar of his black hoodie, your fingertips sinking directly onto the broad, solid expanse of his shoulders. Your nails catch against the firm shift of his back muscles, anchoring yourself to his massive frame as he continues that agonizingly perfect, rhythmic stroke inside you.
"Just being around you is dangerous," you confess, your voice barely a ragged whisper against his jawline. You tilt your hips just a fraction, leaning into the full thickness of his finger as a delicious, tight ache begins to pull at your lower stomach. Your eyes lock onto his burning gold ones, all your defenses entirely stripped away. "I—I really fucking want you,” you gasp out, legs opening wider as he targets your g-spot with a precision that makes your nails curl deep into his shoulders.
Zuko’s breath hitches sharply at the raw, unshielded curse slipping from your lips, the sheer weight of your confession sending a visible tremor straight through his massive frame. Hearing you completely drop your defenses and admit how badly you want him shatters the final remnants of his restraint.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he growls softly against your mouth, his eyes burning with a dark, unyielding heat as he takes in the sight of your parted legs and the tight, desperate grip of your nails in his shoulders.
He doesn't make you wait. Keeping his first finger buried deep inside you, targeting that perfect spot with a deliberate, agonizing pressure, Zuko coaxes your thighs a fraction wider with his palm. Slowly, relentlessly, he presses a second finger right against your soaked entrance, nudging past the tight, pulsing ring of your muscles before sliding it smoothly inside alongside the first.
The sudden, stretching fullness of him inside you makes the air trap instantly in your throat. Your back arches completely off his chest, your inner walls convulsing in a frantic, tight grip around the added width.
Zuko lets out a low, rough groan at the tight squeeze, his forehead dropping heavily into the crook of your neck as your body frantically tries to adjust to the heat of his hand. His chest heaves against yours, his heart hammering a wild, chaotic rhythm that echoes straight into your ribs.
"Look at me, princess," he murmurs, his voice thick, gravelly, and completely undone as he lifts his head to lock eyes with you again. He doesn't start moving yet, letting you ride out the overwhelming wave of stretch, but his thumb delivers a heavy, crushing press right against your swollen clit. "Take a deep breath for me. That's it... take all of it."
You let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, nodding breathlessly as the heavy ache in your lower stomach tightens into a knot of pure desperation.
Once he feels your muscles reluctantly soften around his fingers, a slow, predatory smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. He hooks both fingers upward, finding that sensitive ridge inside you with a precision that makes your vision go dark around the edges. He begins a heavy, punishingly deep rhythm, driving into you in a slow, unhurried pattern that leaves you completely at his mercy under the blanket.
"Just like that," you gasp out, the words tearing from your throat in a breathless, undone rush as the heavy, rhythmic friction of his fingers threatens to steal your sanity entirely. You throw your head back against the couch, your hips blindly arching up to meet every deep, punishing stroke. "Zuko, please... don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
To emphasize the sheer desperation of your demand, your fingers flex hard against his shoulders, your nails digging significantly deeper into the firm, flexing muscles of his back.
Zuko lets out a low, rough groan at the sharp sting of your nails, his entire frame shuddering against yours. The raw, aggressive drag of your grip doesn't make him pull away; instead, it completely triggers something primal in him. His hands on your waist tighten like steel bands, anchoring your sideways position across his thighs so securely that you can feel the heavy, frantic pulse of his erection throbbing straight through your shorts.
He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, and presses a hot, bruising kiss right over your racing pulse point. The intense, velvety heat of his mouth against your sensitive skin makes a long, trembling whimper ripple down your spine.
But he isn't done testing your limits.
With his fingers still driving relentlessly deep inside your soaked warmth, matching the heavy, crushing rhythm of his thumb against your center, Zuko nips the soft skin of your neck lightly with his teeth.
The sharp, sudden prick of pleasure and pain completely shatters whatever hold you had on your composure. It unravels you in every sense of the word. Your vision goes dark around the edges, your inner muscles convulsing in a violent, desperate squeeze around his fingers as a loud, completely unprompted groan rips straight out of your chest.
"Ohhhh, fuck," you moan out, the curse loud, floating over The Players Club soundtrack.
He drinks in the uninhibited sound like water after a drought , a hushed, deeply captivated rumble stems from his chest directly into yours. He pulls his teeth back just enough to lick over the sensitive mark he just left, his breath fanning scorching hot against your damp skin.
"That's it, beautiful," he rasps, his voice completely ruined, gruff, and thick with a dangerous amount of satisfaction as he speeds up his fingers, driving you mercilessly toward the edge. "Let it out. Let me hear exactly what I'm doing to you."
The sudden increase in speed is the final, devastating blow. Your inner muscles clamp around his fingers in a violent, desperate contraction as a wave of sharp, blinding pleasure crashes over you. You lose all sense of time and space, your back arching off the sofa as you ride out the peak of your orgasm, your helpless whimpers filling the small gap between your faces.
Zuko holds you through every single tremor, his fingers remaining buried deep inside your soaking warmth, pulsing in sync with your walls. He watches your face with an unblinking, profound focus, taking in the burning heat of your cheeks and the sheer beauty of your complete surrender.
As the heavy waves of pleasure slowly begin to recede, leaving your mind completely fried and your body tingling, a sudden surge of raw confidence returns to you.
Before he can even offer a gentle word, your hand flies up, your fingers wrapping firmly around his sharp, masculine jawline. Your thumb digs right into the corner of his cheek, and with an unyielding tug, you pull him down into a soul-snatching kiss.
The collision of your mouths is completely electric. You pour every ounce of your lingering, post-climax desperation into him, your lips parting his in a deep, consuming rush that proves you are nowhere near finished with him tonight. Zuko lets out a muffled, completely staggered groan into your mouth, his large hand on your waist tightening so hard his knuckles go white under the blanket.
Carefully, and albeit, reluctantly, he breaks the kiss, but he doesn't let you escape his personal space. His eyes remain fixed entirely on yours as his hand finally slides out from beneath the hem of your shorts. You let out a soft, helpless moan at the sudden absence of him, the cold air hitting your sensitive skin, but the sound is instantly cut short when his hand rises into the dim light between your faces.
Holding your gaze with a deliberate, unblinking intensity, Zuko brings his wet fingers directly to his lips.
He slowly parts his mouth, his long tongue sweeping across his fingers to taste the thick, glossy evidence of your climax right in front of you. A sharp breath trips in your throat at the sheer audacity of the gesture, your entire body tightening all over again as you watch his throat swallow. An unhurried, thoroughly wicked smirk gradually pulls at the corner of his lips, a flash of heavy, unbothered pride taking over his sharp features.
"You taste absolutely phenomenal," he murmurs, his voice heavily undulating against your lips as he leans in close, his thumb gently catching a stray drop of moisture at the corner of his mouth. "Like the most perfect dessert."
You pull back just a fraction of an inch, your breathing shallow and completely ruined as you hold his gaze through your lashes.
"Bedroom now," you whisper heavily against his swollen lips, your voice a daring, heated command that makes his pulse spike instantly. "Before our first time ends up being on my living room couch... which is much too small for what you're carrying."
The journey from the living room to the bedroom is a blur of shifting shadows and the steady, solid thud of Zuko’s heartbeat against your ear. He carries you effortlessly, his massive arms holding you securely against his chest as if your weight is nothing at all. Your fingers stay tightly tangled in the soft fabric of his black hoodie, your face buried in the warm crook of his neck.
When he steps into the dimness of your room, he doesn’t just drop you on the mattress.
Zuko moves as if he’s carrying one of the most precious pieces of cargo to grace the planet, setting you on the edge of your bed with the utmost care. You watch with wide eyes as he steps back just a bit, putting distance between the two of you. He’s a masterpiece of perfectly tailored loungewear and beauty that echoes the craftsmanship of ancient greek sculptures.
And as you sit on the bed, eyes blown wide and glossy. Lips swollen from kisses and skin glistening from your skincare routine. You’re the living embodiment of temptation and perfection—a dangerous combination to a man trying hard to respect your desire to take things slow.
“Are you sure, beautiful? We can stop right now and finish the movie, or we can just chat and I hold you. We don’t have to do anything beyond what we’ve already done,” he states, voice oozing with reassurance and contentment.
A smile takes over your features, and you fall back, releasing a sigh from the way his words feel just like your duvet; cozy and comforting. Your smile morphs into something else entirely though as the cool air of your room brushes along your skin and brings more awareness to the heat in between your thighs. You lift your legs up, not bothering to glance at him as you lazily wrap them around his small waist.
“See, and that just made me wetter…” you whine, your voice light and airy. “I—I really do want you, Zuko. Badly. Desperately. I want to…. oh wow, here comes the honesty,” your voice drops to a tentative whisper and your cheeks grow warmer. “I want to have sex with you, and not just in an I want to fuck you senseless kind of way, which I’d also like, but also in a sensual kind of way? Like I want to become even more intimate… with you.”
Zuko takes one step closer, his legs grazing the edge of your mattress. He brings his hands up, resting them on your knees, his large palms snug and steady against your skin.
He just looks down at you, searching your face, completely awestruck by the immense trust you are placing in his hands.
Slowly, his hands slide up from your knees, tracing a slow, burning path along the tops of your thighs until he leans over you, pinning his weight onto the mattress on either side of your head with the support of his arms. He doesn't press down on you; instead, he hovers just inches away, creating a warm, private cocoon in the dim light of your room. He reaches out, his long, calloused fingers gently cupping your heated cheek, his thumb catching a loose strand of hair to brush it away from your face.
“Are you sure,” he questions one last time.
You huff playfully. You grab the edge of your shirt, maintaining eye contact with him as you take it off in one smooth motion. “No more questions unless you’re talking me through it and asking who’s is it? Am I understood?”
An entirely captivated chuckle rumbles right against your chest, his shoulders shaking slightly as your specific set of orders hits him. An incredibly smitten smirk pulls at his lips, his gold eyes burning with a sudden, dark intelligence that proves he is more than happy to play by your new rules.
"I understand perfectly, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice entirely undone as his gaze drops down to the bare skin of your chest before locking back onto yours.
He doesn't waste another second. Zuko closes the small distance between your faces, capturing your lips in a deep, consuming kiss that feels entirely different from before. It’s heavy, possessive, and dripping with a sudden, unbothered confidence. His tongue glides smoothly against yours, drinking in your soft whimpers as his large hands slide down the sides of your body to stop right underneath the weight of your breast.
He takes his time breaking the contact of your mouths, but his lips don't go far.
He presses a warm, lingering kiss to your jawline, and then his path moves lower. He trails an agonizingly slow line of damp kisses down the sensitive column of your neck, making your head roll back against the duvet. He moves lower still, past your collarbone, his breath fanning across your bare skin and sending a wave of intense goosebumps rippling down your arms.
As his mouth descends, his large hands slide upward. His palms cup the soft weight of your breasts, his long fingers massaging the sensitive tissue with a heavy, unhurried rhythm that makes your breath hitch sharply.
When his lips finally find the aching curve of your breast, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan.
Zuko sweeps his thumb over one nipple, while his mouth claims the other side. He sucks the soft skin gently into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak before placing a careful, incredibly deliberate, and delicious bite right onto it.
The action sends your back arching into him. The sudden prick of his teeth mixed with the amazing pressure of his hands sends a jolt to your clit that makes it pulse against the thin fabric of your shorts. Your thighs tighten around him, your fingers tangle themselves into his hair as another loud moan slips past your lips.
He moves and handles you as if in the three months, he’s committed everything you’ve ever done to memory. Every kiss that made you stutter, every touch that made you turn into his chest and hide your face; and now he’s behaving as if every ounce of those lessons are being put into practice.
His reward for doing so is your endless praise falling from your lips in reverence. You wiggle and writhe underneath him, hips moving on their own accord to garner some form of friction to satiate and calm your cunt. “Zu–zuko, pleasee,” the plea comes out breathy and more moan than words as he bites a little harder this time.
“Please what, princess?” he breathes against your skin, slowly making his way lower down your body as he leaves a trail of wet kisses.
Your grip tightens in his hair, legs shaking from how tightly you're squeezing around him and the sheer anticipation of everything. “I–I want you and you’re— ooooh,” the words short-circuit as he places a kiss right on your center. You exhale shakily, legs falling from around his waist as you lift your head to look at him.
Lucifer or Michael, you’re not sure which side he falls on yet, but he looks like an angel in between your legs. And as he maintains eye contact with you while slipping your itty bitty shorts off, you start to think he’s falling more on the devilish side than anything else.
“I’m what? Taking my time? Being too rough? Not rough enough? Give me my half-time report,” he demands, adjusting your legs so they rest right back on his shoulders.
You glare down at him through the hazy fog of your arousal, a breathy, frustrated laugh slipping past your lips at his demanding tone.
"You're teasing," you accuse him, your voice shaking slightly as you try to steady your breathing. "That's your report. You are a terrible, wicked tease, Zuko."
Zuko doesn't even blink. His large hands slide down the backs of your calves, keeping your legs securely locked over his broad shoulders as he looks up at you with a calm, unyielding seriousness.
"I'm ensuring I don't hurt you," he informs you smoothly, his voice deep and completely steady despite the wild, chaotic rhythm of his pulse against your shins. "You asked for sensuality, princess. That means we don't rush. I'm making sure your body is ready for all of me.”
A defiant, sassy smirk instantly replaces your dazed expression. You lean back entirely, resting your weight on your hands behind you on the mattress, tilting your chin up in a bold display of confidence despite being completely bare to his gaze.
"I'm not a virgin, Zuko," you fire back, a playful challenge dancing in your eyes. "I know how to handle myself. You don't need to treat me like glass."
At your sass, his eyes darken instantly, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his lips. He doesn't budge. Instead, he shifts his weight slightly forward, the massive, unyielding width of his shoulders widening your stance just a fraction more as he rests his hands firmly on your hips.
From his position on the floor, the heavy, prominent length of his erection is pressed right against the mattress between your thighs, a blatant visual reminder of the sheer size you're dealing with.
"I know you aren't," he responds snarkily, his gold eyes locking onto yours from below with a dangerous, teasing edge. He leans in just enough for his lips to brush against your inner thigh. "But the way your entire mouth dropped open on the couch the second you felt my print tells me a completely different story, beautiful. It lets me know that you've never slept with anyone my size."
A heavy, sudden surge of heat hits your cheeks at the direct hit, your words instantly trapping themselves behind your teeth. He catches your stunned reaction immediately, a flash of pure, unbothered male pride taking over his sharp features as he watches you struggle for a comeback from his spot between your legs.
Your mouth parts as you scramble to form a sharp, witty rebuttal, your mind racing to find any sort of comeback to salvage your pride. You open your mouth, a sarcastic remark right on the tip of your tongue—
But Zuko doesn't give you the chance to speak.
With his hands firmly anchoring your hips to the edge of the mattress, he leans his head forward and completely intervenes. He slides his tongue out, delivering one slow, incredibly broad stroke from your entrance all the way up to your sensitive clit.
It’s electric, so much so it zaps all coherent thoughts away. Until all you can focus on is the way he’s devouring your cunt with a type of precision you’ve only ever read about in books. Your toes curl and your fingers dig into the comforter as if your life depends on it. Your hips instinctively tilting upward into his face as the delicious ache in your lower stomach tightens into a knot of pure desperation.
"Zuko—ohhhhh god," you cry out, your hands flying down to tangle into his dark hair, not to push him away, but to anchor him right where he is.
He alternates his pace with perfect execution, moving between long, wet licks that coat your center and deep, dragging suctions right against your clit. Every time his tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves, a heavy jolt shoots straight to your core, and every time he uses his lips to gently pull at your sensitive skin, a loud, helpless whine slips past your lips.
Just as the tension in your lower stomach begins to tighten into a knot of pure desperation, Zuko shifts. Keeping his mouth firmly pressed against you, he slides one of his hands down and guides two long fingers directly against your soaked entrance. With one smooth, unhurried push, he slides them both deep inside your cunt, stretching you beautifully.
A loud, unrestrained moan rips from your chest, your head throwing itself back as the double sensation of his mouth and his fingers completely short-circuits your mind. Your inner muscles clamp around the added thickness, pulsing frantically.
Zuko lets out a low, vibration of approval against your skin, instantly obeying. He hooks his fingers upward, finding that perfect, sensitive ridge inside you, and begins a slow, punishingly deep rhythm.
"Keep going," you gasp out, your eyes blowing wide as he targets your sweet spot perfectly. Your back bows off the bed, your heels dig into his back and fingers tighten their hold on the silky strands of his hair. “Y-you’re so fucking perfect, oooo my god.”
The relentless, matching rhythm of his tongue and fingers is too much to bear. Your inner walls tighten into an incredibly fierce, desperate vice around his knuckles, and your breath completely stalls in your chest as the wave finally breaks.
You scream his name into the quiet room, your hips lifting completely off the mattress as a violent, blinding orgasm ripples through you.
Zuko doesn't flinch, and he doesn't pull back. True to your command, he handles you with absolute, unyielding control, riding you through every single contraction. He keeps his two fingers buried deep within your pulsing warmth, moving them in a slow, heavy, grounding stretch that coaxes even more pleasure from your climax. His mouth stays firmly sealed against your clit, his tongue delivering deep, solid strokes that drink in the thick, glossy evidence of your orgasm until your frantic whimpers turn into quiet, exhausted pants.
He presses one last kiss right above your sensitive bundle of nerves and begins to remove his long fingers. You let out a soft, trailing whine at the sudden absence of him.
But before he can fully retract his hand, your hand flies down to catch him by the wrist.
Zuko freezes, kneeling between your thighs as he looks up at you through his lashes, his breathing heavy and uneven. With a slow, thoroughly impish grin spreading across your features, you guide his large hand upward. You lift his wet fingers right to your face, parting your lips to slip his two glistening fingers directly between them.
His eyes widen, darkening to near-black as you hold his unblinking gaze. As you begin to slowly swirl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning the thick, glossy evidence of your own orgasm off his skin, Zuko instinctively shifts. The intense visual forces him forward, his broad chest leaning over the mattress to hover slightly above you, narrowing the space until you can feel the radiating heat of his skin.
Before you can even say a word to break the silence, a thoroughly captivated chuckle rumbles from Zuko's chest. He shakes his head slightly, his eyes glittering with a mix of disbelief and intense affection as you finally let his fingers glide free of your lips.
"You are absolute trouble," he murmurs, his voice entirely kaput as his thumb gently traces the wet contour of your lower lip.
Your grin only widens at the accusation, your eyes flashing with a daring, heated spark as you suddenly sit up. The forward momentum of your body forces him to yield, making him straighten up to his full height as he stands between your parted legs on the edge of the mattress.
You slide your hands forward, your palms resting firmly against the solid, warm span of his hips to anchor him right where he is.
"You like this trouble," you respond smoothly, your voice trickling into a light, airy demand that vibrates with anticipation. "Now clothes off, before I get feral."
Zuko’s smile widens, thoroughly amused and entranced with your ability to be a tease, yet comedic simultaneously. He towers over you, looking down from his full height as your hands grip his hips, the raw hunger in his expression completely sealing his fate.
"As you wish, tyrant," he growls softly.
His hands instantly grip the bottom hem of his black hoodie, pulling it over his head in one swift, fluid motion.
You wolf-whistle, the sharp, playful sound echoing loudly in the quiet room.
The unexpected gesture completely shatters Zuko’s intense expression, pulling another rich, genuine laugh from his chest. His broad shoulders shake as he drops the discarded hoodie onto the floor, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement at your sheer audacity.
Taking full advantage of his distraction, your hands glide smoothly up the firm, defined expanse of his bare chest. You lean forward, maneuvering your body so you are now kneeling right on the very edge of the mattress. The added height brings you perfectly level with him, allowing you to wrap your arms securely around his neck, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the base of his head.
The moment you are within reach, Zuko's large hands slide instantly around your waist. His palms are scorching hot against your bare skin as they travel lower, his long fingers spreading wide to settle firmly over the curve of your ass.
With a sudden, possessive flex of his muscles, he pulls you firmly against him. A soft, breathless moan escapes your lips at the sudden impact. The sensation of being entirely skin-to-skin with him is overwhelming, every single line of your body molded perfectly against the rigid, heavy musculature of his frame.
"You are literally like a heater in human form," you mumble against the warm skin of his shoulder, burying your face in his neck to hide the sheer dizziness of the feeling.
Zuko tilts his head back just enough to look down at you, a soft, incredibly smitten expression melting his sharp features.
"You are adorable," he murmurs, his voice dripping with affection.
You let out a soft giggle, shaking your head against his chest as you look up at him through your lashes. "Stop it. I am supposed to be sexy right now."
A soft, deep rumble ripples through Zuko’s chest as he pulls you just a fraction closer, his large hands anchoring you firmly against his hips. "You're incredibly multitalented," he tells you quietly, his eyes dancing with merriment as he takes in the playful pout on your lips.
You let out another quiet giggle, your fingers lightly tracing the strong line of his collarbone. "You know, you really don't have to compliment me like you're trying to get in my pants. You're already there. Technically, I should be the one complimenting you right now because I am very actively trying to get into yours."
Zuko’s head throws back as a piquant, booming laugh escapes him, the sound filling the quiet space of your bedroom. He shakes his head, looking down at you with pure adoration.
"You are on a serious comedic run with your jokes tonight, princess," he murmurs, his thumbs gently sweeping over the bare skin of your lower back.
"Listen, excitement and nervousness make me the absolute love child of Kevin Hart and Martin Lawrence," you explain smoothly, leaning your weight fully into his solid frame. But then you freeze, your eyes widening slightly as a brilliant realization hits you. You pull back just enough to look him dead in the eye. "Oh, wait. Pause. The very next TV show we are starting together is Martin. You're going to love it."
Zuko doesn't even hesitate. A tender, easy smile graces his features as he nods. "Okay. We'll watch it next."
The sheer readiness of his answer melts something deep inside your chest. A delicate, breathy sigh escapes you, and you lean back in, peppering a flurry of sweet, adoring kisses across his jawline, moving down to the warm, sensitive skin of his neck.
"I love it when you just tell me yes," you murmur against his skin, your lips brushing softly against his pulse point with every word.
He lets out a soft, breathy sigh against your hair, his arms tightening around you as if the admission is the simplest thing in the world. "It's very easy to do," he tells you, his voice steady.
Your grin only widens against his skin at his quick compliance. You pull back just a fraction of an inch to look at him, a sudden, bright twinkle of mischief dancing across your features.
"I think we're stalling because we're nervous," you tease, tilting your head with a challenging little smirk.
Zuko lets out an amused huff, a slow, knowing smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he holds your gaze. "I think we sounds better as you," he counters effortlessly, completely turning the accusation back on you without a single shred of shame.
Indignant, you lean forward and bite the side of his neck, your teeth catching the firm cord of his muscle a little sharply. Zuko lets out a deep, heavy moan directly into your ear, his large hands suddenly flexing to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass with a sudden, bruising grip.
The bite is instantly cut short and turns into a loud, high-pitched gasp.
The raw force of the response sends a wild, electric jolt straight to cunt that makes your walls contract, making your eyes widen in absolute shock as he holds you completely pinned against his rigid frame.
Zuko pulls back just enough to look down at you, a thoroughly satisfied smirk playing on his features as he finds you completely speechless. The smug, unbothered confidence returns to his sharp features in full force. He drags one large hand up the bare skin of your back, his long fingers trailing a line of fire along your spine until they lace firmly into your braids, gently pulling your head back to force you to meet his scorching gold gaze.
"How flexible are you, beautiful?" he asks, his voice thick as he tilts his head, studying the way your breath hitches.
A sharp, matching smile full of pure mischief spreads across your face despite the heavy pulling sensation at your scalp. You tilt your chin up, holding his eyes with an unyielding confidence.
"I think you should find out," you challenge softly, your voice a teasing murmur. "Unless, of course... you're nervous."
Zuko playfully rolls his eyes at the callback, an amused huff escaping his lips, but his expression softens just a fraction with that familiar, protective seriousness. "I'm only nervous that I'm going to hurt you."
You let out a breathy, dramatic laugh, your hands smoothing over his broad shoulders. "Zuko, I am practically a splash pad at the moment. You aren't going to hurt me," you reassure him, before your smirk turns entirely mischievous. "Besides... I like a little pain."
He hums, the deep sound vibrating straight through your chest as his grip on your braids tightens just a fraction, tilting your face up a millimeter more. "Only when you're giving me attitude, princess."
Your mouth drops open in a dramatic gasp, your eyes widening with faux offense. "Why, I would never," you drawl, the sarcasm dripping so heavily from your tone that it makes the corner of his mouth twitch.
Before he can even call you out on it, you suddenly tighten your grip around his neck.
Using your entire body weight, you throw yourself backward onto the mattress, pulling his massive frame straight down on top of you. The sudden shift in momentum sends a wild rush through the air, your bodies hitting the bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The second your back settles against the sheets, you adjust your hips, wrapping your legs tightly around his firm waist to anchor him.
With a sudden, coordinated surge of energy, you use the leverage of your thighs against his hips and roll, flipping the two of you over in one fluid, chaotic motion until you are sitting triumphantly on top of his chest.
Sitting astride his broad chest feels like an absolute victory. Your braids spill over your shoulders as you look down at him, your hands resting flat against the hard, warm expanse of his pectorals. From this vantage point, you can feel the heavy thud of his heart beneath your palms and the rigid length of his erection pressing firmly against you from beneath his loungewear pants.
Zuko doesn't even look disgruntled about being overpowered. Instead, he lies perfectly still beneath you, his large hands sliding up to grip your outer thighs to keep you balanced. A slow, incredibly indulgent smile spreads across his face as he looks up at you, his gold eyes tracking the triumphant gleam in your expression.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly, affectionate rumble that vibrates right into your thighs. "Sitting up there like you actually own the place."
"I do own the place, we're in my bedroom," you remind him cheekily, leaning down just enough to let your breasts graze his chest. You trace a slow pattern over his collarbone with one finger, your voice dropping into a playful whisper. "And right now, I think I own you, too."
Zuko’s gaze darkens instantly, the indulgent warmth in his eyes turning into something thick and dangerous. His thumbs dig into the sides of your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to let you know exactly how easily he could switch your positions if he wanted to.
"Do you?" he questions softly, a dare dripping from every single syllable. "You're very brave when you're on top, princess. What exactly do you plan on doing with me now that you've got me pinned?”
"Well, first," you murmur, placing open mouth kisses along the column of his throat, "I plan on getting you out of these pants. Because they are currently serving as a barrier between me and the prize, and I am a very impatient woman."
Zuko lets out a low, rough sound that is half-groan, half-laugh, his head tilting back against the pillows to give you better access to his neck. "Is that so?"
You hook your fingers into the band of his loungepants and boxers.
"It is," you whisper, your hands tugging the fabrics down his hips just enough to let the heavy, rigid length of him spring free against your inner thigh.
The direct, searing contact of his bare skin against your soaking cunt makes your entire body shudder, a sharp gasp breaking past your lips. He’s massive. Bigger than any toy you own. Bigger than anyone you’ve slept with before. And it’s pretty. Veiny. Girthy. The tip slightly red and glossy with precum.
He watches with pure mirth as your gaze remains fixed on the prize you’ve been working so hard to acquire. Your mouth opens and then closes. You inhale sharply, before releasing a laugh that’s partially soundless from the shock.
“Yo–you— I–I,” you clear your throat, trying to regain your bearings. “I appreciate you for working me open, you fucking monster. You should’ve just said you had a third leg. I–I we have breakfast plans with Suki and Sokka tomorrow, I’m not gonna make that— we’re not gonna make it,” you ramble, completely abandoning your perch to remove his pants entirely as you shimmy down his frame.
Your gaze never quite leaves the size of him as you move around. Zuko simply lies back and observes you with a potent mix of reverence and amusement, a soft, highly entertained smile tugging at his lips as he listens to you completely unravel over the logistics of tomorrow morning.
“I–I was real confident that I could just take you for a joyride on the first go round, but that—that’s gonna require a slight rain check after you’ve worked me open entirely. Shit. You may actually split me in half. I’m so sorry I doubted you, your worry was based in logic, but—but my mom didn’t raise a quitter and if she did, it’s one of my siblings,” you continue, dropping his pants and boxers on your bedroom floor before climbing back on top of him.
The second your knees settle back on either side of his hips, the hearty laugh that had been building in Zuko’s chest finally breaks free. He shakes his head, his broad shoulders shaking against the mattress as he looks up at you with pure, unadulterated entertainment.
"Good to know your family honor is safe," he cracks, his voice deep and raspy as his large hands immediately fly back to your waist. His fingers dig firmly into your skin, anchoring you right where he wants you. "But for someone who was just begging me to hurry up, you sure have a lot of thoughts about Sokka's breakfast schedule."
The playful mockery in his gold speckled eyes instantly shifts into something dangerous and consuming. With his hands still locked onto your waist, Zuko suddenly sits up, his powerful upper body rising off the mattress until he is looming directly over you, forcing your chest to tilt back. His thumbs sweep over your hip bones, a sudden, firm downwards pressure forcing your pelvis down until your drenched cunt is resting right against the heavy, pulsing crown of his length.
"You're done rambling now, right?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave into a low, commanding rumble that vibrates straight through your thighs. He lowers your hips just a fraction of an inch, the blunt, massive head of his erection intentionally nudging against your opening, testing your stretch. "Because you're right. My worry was based in logic. And since you're apparently not a quitter..."
He pauses, a thoroughly wicked, dominant smirk flashing across his face as he locks his gaze onto your wide eyes.
"...let's see how much of this third leg you can actually handle."
You slide your arms over his shoulders, clinging to his upright frame as a shudder of pure anticipation runs down your spine. Keeping his large hands locked tightly on your waist, Zuko begins to lower you down. He moves with an agonizing, meticulous care, taking his sweet time despite the heavy, erratic thud of his own pulse against your thighs.
The sheer width of him breaches your entrance with a thick, relentless pressure that has your nails instantly digging deep into the firm muscles of his bare back. Zuko doesn't even flinch. He hardly registers the sting of your nails as his eyes remain completely fixed on your face, tracking every micro-expression.
Your eyes are blown completely wide, staring at his shoulder as your chest heaves, your bottom lip caught tightly between your teeth as you try to swallow down a wordless cry. Only the broad head of his erection has entered, but the stretching fullness is already overwhelming.
Sensing your distress, Zuko pauses. He freezes your momentum entirely, keeping you pinned at that exact depth. Slowly, he lifts one hand from your waist, his large thumb reaching up to gently press against your chin until he coaxes your trembling bottom lip free from between your teeth.
"Don't do that," he murmurs, his voice a hushed, gravelly caress as his thumb strokes the wet, reddened skin of your lip. He tilts his head, his gaze burning into yours with a fierce, protective intensity. "Bite me instead of yourself. I don't want you hurting yourself, princess."
You blink through the haze of pleasure and friction, a faint pout forming on your lips. "But that'll hurt you," you whisper breathlessly, your fingers flexing against his shoulders.
An unhurried, completely soft look enters his eyes, though his grip on your waist remains utterly unyielding. "I'd much rather prefer that."
"I don't," you protest, your stubbornness making the corner of his mouth twitch.
But the words are instantly stolen from your tongue. Before you can argue any further, Zuko subtly shifts his weight, sliding your hips down just a fraction of an inch deeper onto his massive width. Your mouth drops open even wider at the sudden, mind-melting stretch, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as your inner walls spasms around him.
You stare at him, completely undone by the sheer size of what's currently filling you up, before your head drops against his chest. You give a weak, defeated nod against his warm skin.
"Okay," you whimper out, your voice trembling with a mix of submission and heavy arousal. "You win. I'll bite you."
A rumbling vibration of approval echoes in Zuko’s chest as he hears the surrender in your voice. He doesn't waste a single second. His hand slides right back down to your waist, his long fingers anchoring your hips with an iron grip that makes it very clear who is in control now.
"Good girl," he growls softly against your ear.
The praise has your inner walls clenching automatically. You hum back in response, your thoughts somewhere in the ether as you breathe him in and feel him.
With that same agonizing, controlled power, Zuko lifts his hips, forcing you down another fraction of an inch. The relentless, inch-by-inch stretch is so completely encompassing that your brain short-circuits. True to your promise, you lean forward and bury your face in the crook of his neck, your teeth sinking sharply into the thick, tense muscle where his shoulder meets his neck.
Zuko lets out a sharp, guttural hiss at the sting of your teeth, but instead of pulling away, the pain seems to drive him completely over the edge. His grip on your waist turns bruising, his knuckles turning white against your skin as he deliberately shifts your hips downward, sliding deeper into your soaking, tight warmth.
A muffled, entirely ruined sob is trapped against his skin as your walls frantically flutter, trying to make room for the sheer, impossible volume of him
“You’re doing so good for me, princess,” Zuko praises. He keeps pushing, slow and merciless, until his pelvis hits your bare thighs with a solid, heavy thud.
He is buried entirely inside you. Every single millimeter of his veiny, heavy length is completely sheathed in your heat, filling you so thoroughly that you can barely catch your breath.
Zuko’s head falls back, a ragged, breathless groan tearing from his throat as your tight cunt twitches around him in a vicious, pulsing vice-grip. His chest heaves against yours, his eyes shut tight as he forces himself to hold completely still, giving your body a moment to adapt to the large, welcomed intrusion.
You exhale quietly against his shoulder, letting the hot, trembling breath fan over his skin as the initial shock of his size transitions into a profound, heavy warmth. Your lips linger against his neck for a moment before you press a gentle, apologetic kiss directly over the fresh teeth imprint you just left in his muscle.
You don't move yet. Your body is still adapting to the thick, unyielding fullness stretching you to your absolute limit, so you simply turn your head on his shoulder, resting your cheek against his skin as your gaze tracks the sharp, tense lines of his neck and collarbone.
"Thank you, big monster," you murmur affectionately, your voice a breathless whisper that vibrates directly against his pulse point.
A faint, rough huff of laughter shakes Zuko’s chest beneath yours, the sound rich with a mix of exhaustion and absolute adoration. His large hands remain firmly locked onto your waist, but the bruising grip relaxes just a fraction, his thumbs resuming those small, soothing strokes against your hips to help you stay grounded.
"You're welcome, princess," he replies, his voice incredibly resonant and raspy in the quiet room. He tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing the side of your face as he lets out a long, shuddering breath. "Are you alright? Truly? I'm not going to move until you tell me you're ready."
A bright, delighted laugh breaks from your throat, the sound slightly muffled against his shoulder as your inner walls give another helpless, happy twitch around his length.
"Ah, big and patient," you tease in a winded murmur, your fingers lightly tracing the broad expanse of his chest. "God, did I hit the lottery."
Zuko’s resonant laugh returns in full force, a rumble that you feel completely mirrored in the tightest rings of your core. He shakes his head, the tips of his dark hair brushing your cheek as his hands on your waist give a sudden, firm squeeze that acts as a quiet, protective warning.
"Don't get used to the patient part, princess," he growls dotingly, his eyes flashing with a sudden, mischievous intent as he locks his gaze back onto yours. "You wanted a joyride. Now that you've caught your breath, tell me if you can handle a little speed."
You lift your head off his shoulder, a defiant, wicked smirk flashing across your face despite the ache keeping you anchored to his lap. You slide your hands down to his chest, your palms flat against his warm skin as you lock your gaze with his burning, gold-speckled eyes.
"I told you," you murmur, your voice steadying as you reclaim your confidence. "My mom didn't raise a quitter. But..." You pause, a sudden, playful tilt to your head as your thighs tremble slightly under the strain of keeping yourself balanced over his massive width. "...this third leg is monstrous, big guy. I think I'm gonna need some assistance if I'm gonna take this joyride properly."
Zuko’s gaze darkens instantly, a downright pleased, sinful smile pulling at the corner of his lips at your direct request.
"Always happy to help, princess," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rumble.
He doesn't need to be told twice. His large hands slide from your waist down to the undersides of your thighs. Hooking his strong fingers firmly under your knees, he lifts your legs slightly, taking the entire burden of your weight onto his own powerful frame and effortlessly stabilizing your balance.
"Here," he growls dotingly, his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles into your skin as he manually guides your hips back, tilting your pelvis at a much sharper, devastating angle. "Hold onto my shoulders."
The moment your hands lock onto his frame, you shift your hips, driving yourself down while Zuko simultaneously surges upward.
The coordinated assistance changes everything. The new angle allows his veiny length to slide inside you with an even deeper, more friction-heavy impact, striking your sweet spot so accurately that your vision completely blurs.
You lean forward, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer velocity of the collision, and smash your mouth against his. A loud, completely undone whine is crushed between your lips, turning into a desperate, winded confession against his skin.
"Holy shit," you moan directly into the heat of the kiss, your tongue tangling with his as your inner walls flutter frantically around him. "Zuko—you're massive."
Zuko lets out a deep, guttural grunt straight into your mouth, the raw praise driving him completely wild. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, matching the sudden, relentless increase in his hip speed as the two of you lock into a punishing pace, his pelvis hitting yours with a loud, wet smack.
He swallows your moan, his grip on your thighs tightening to a bruising intensity as he continues to drive upward with an unhurried, devastating power. He breaks the kiss just enough to look at you, his chest heaving violently against yours, his gold-speckled eyes dark with a heavy, consuming possessiveness.
"You're taking me so well, princess," he pants out, his voice a rough, broken growl as he slides nearly all the way out before burying his entire veiny width back inside you to the hilt. "Look at you. You're taking every single inch."
The deep, relentless friction of the impact makes your head roll back, your fingers clawing into the hard muscles of his shoulders as a loud, completely ruined cry rips from your throat. Your inner walls flutter frantically, clamping down around his massive length in a desperate, pulsing squeeze.
You force your eyes open, holding his burning gaze as your hips slam down against his pelvis once more.
"Because you're fucking me so good," you moan back to him, completely unfiltered and breathless from the sheer intensity of it. "Baby, it feels—god, fucking so good."
You start to lose your grip on his shoulders. Your hands slide down, your fingers clawing blindly as your nails drag down the firm, sweaty expanse of his back, leaving a trail of hot, red lines in their wake.
"Z-Zuko—" you whimper out, your head rolling frantically against his neck as the friction inside you reaches a boiling point. Your core is twitching violently, walls clamping around him so hard that his breath hitches with every relentless thrust. "Wait, wait—I'm gonna cum again. Baby, I'm gonna cum!"
"Perfect," Zuko growls, his voice entirely ruined and thick as he wraps one massive arm around your upper back, locking you tight against his chest. His own lower body locks up, his hips hitching as the vice-grip of your climax pushes him right to the absolute precipice. "Do it. I'm right behind you, princess—I'm so close—"
"Finish inside me," you beg breathlessly, your voice a desperate, undone whimper against his skin as you arch your back, grounding your pelvis completely against his. "Please, baby, fill me up. Don't pull out."
A deep, primal groan tears from Zuko's throat at your plea, any remaining restraint shattering completely. He doesn't slow down for a single second. Instead, he drives upward with a sudden, devastating surge of power, burying his full width to the hilt, perfectly targeting that hyper-sensitive spot until your entire body goes completely rigid.
His name falls from your lips like a litany as he fucks you through it, drawing out every tremor of your release while simultaneously spilling his own hot, heavy release inside you. He pumps into you deep and hard, holding you trapped against his chest until you’re both left completely reeling together and panting as the aftershocks roll through you.
The silence that follows is thick, dense, and broken only by the synchronized, ragged sound of your chests heaving against one another.
Zuko doesn't move a muscle. He remains sitting upright, his powerful arms locked around you like a vice, keeping you plastered securely against his torso while his head slumps forward onto your shoulder. His skin is slick with sweat, a profound, radiating heat pulsing off his frame that feels completely consuming in the quiet room. Inside you, the thick, substantial length of him remains buried to the absolute hilt, twitching faintly as the last lingering aftershocks of his release settle profound within your core.
A long, shuddering breath rumbles through his chest, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck where a faint, damp trail of his own breath cools against your skin.
"God," Zuko pants out, his voice a thoroughly wrecked, resonant whisper that vibrates directly against your collarbone. His fingers flex weakly against your lower back, tracing the dip of your spine with lazy, completely satiated affection. "You... you're entirely lethal, you know that?"
You let out a faint, airy puff of a laugh, your forehead resting profoundly against the side of his neck. Your muscles feel completely melted, like jelly, and you lack the energy to even lift your eyelids.
"I told you," you whimper-whisper back, your voice a tiny thread of sound. "Not a quitter."
A faint, thoroughly entertained huff of laughter shakes his broad shoulders. Carefully, slowly, Zuko lifts his head just enough to look at you. His eyes are weighted, dark with a lingering, intense devotion, a tender smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he takes in your utterly flushed, ruined expression.
"Yeah, well, your family honor is definitely intact," he murmurs dotingly, reaching his thumb out to stroke your cheek. "But I think your prediction was accurate."
"Which one?" you mumble, blinking up at him, fighting to clear the post-sex fog from your cognitive functioning.
Zuko’s smile turns into a full grin, a faint, boyish flush creeping up his neck despite the dominant energy he just displayed. He gives your waist a gentle, affectionate squeeze, reminding you of exactly how thoroughly filled up you still are.
"We are definitely not making those breakfast plans with Suki and Sokka."
You grin back at him, nodding in agreement, “Couldn’t agree more, I need to show you how flexible I am.” You pause, moaning as you adjust to sit upright in his lap. “I just know your ass has a long fuse, fucking stallion of a man,” you mumble, staring at him incredulously.
The rich, resonant laugh that rumbles through Zuko’s chest this time is completely unvarnished, his broad shoulders shaking as he tries—and utterly fails—to keep a straight face. The sudden shift from your post-coital haze back into unhinged, competitive rambling catches him completely off guard, the "stallion" comment making a dark flattered flush creep all the way up to his ears.
"A long fuse? A stallion?" he echoes, his voice a highly amused scratch.
Before you can even clarify your incredulous math, his large hands tighten on your waist, and with a sudden, seamless shift of his powerful frame, Zuko completely flips the two of you over.
Your vision spins for a breathless second before your back hits the mattress. The sudden change in gravity forces a sharp, needy gasp from your throat as his massive, substantial length slides deep and re-seats itself inside you from an entirely new, devastating angle. Zuko hovers directly over you, his broad shoulders framing your vision as he traps you beneath his heavy weight, pinning your hands gently beside your head.
"The math is mathing, Zuko. Two rounds back-to-back, you're handling me like I weigh nothing, and you're still sitting inside me like an absolute brick,” you mumble, giving your hips a cautious tilt upward to feel how solid he still is inside of you.
A gratified growl escapes his chest at your unfiltered logic, the dark flush on his neck deepening as your praise hits exactly where it hurts.
"You think you have me figured out, do you?" he murmurs dotingly, his thumbs rubbing firm, warm circles into your wrists where he holds them down.
"I'm just stating facts, big guy," you tease, a sudden, wicked glint cutting through your post-sex fog. "A regular fuse blows under that kind of pressure. Yours just keeps burning. So yeah... stallion behavior. Prove me wrong."
A shadowed, sinful smirk completely replaces the boyish grin on Zuko's face, his gold-speckled eyes clouding over with a sudden, competitive hunger that matches your own. He lets out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrates right through his broad chest and directly into yours.
"Prove you wrong?" he echoes, his voice dropping into a rough, dominant register that makes your walls give a helpless, frantic twitch around his thick extension.
He releases your wrists, but before you can even think about celebrating your freedom, his large hands slide down the frame of your body. He hooks his strong fingers firmly behind your knees and smoothly drives your legs up toward your chest, folding you completely in half beneath his massive frame. The sudden, extreme change in the angle forces a sharp, completely undone gasp from your throat as his length buries itself even deeper to the hilt, stretching your hyper-sensitive walls to their absolute limit.
Zuko leans down, hovering just millimeters from your lips, his breath fanning across your mouth as he locks his gaze onto your blown-out pupils.
"Can I prove it while testing out exactly how flexible you are, princess?" he breathes dotingly, a confident, predatory smile pulling at his lips.
You might not make it to lunch either.
Fin
I'm currently in the Caribbean visiting family, but I just needed to upload this so I could pivot to my other WIP--- and my apologizes for the delayed upload. My goal is to try to post once a week a least, but we shall see. Writing on the beach distracts me and I'm here for s couple more days 😭.
I don't know if other writers do this; but a lot of what I write is what I want to read. Therefore, when I start something, I have to see it through because I want to read it like everyone else and I get impatient.
Anywho thanks so much for reading! if you asked to be tagged and I missed you, please let me know so I can add it to my documents and not forget for the next post!!!
you get hit a lil too hard in the head during a training session, sending everyone in a panic as they gather around you, (zuko hauling you into his arms) as everyone frantically asking questions that your brain can notcomprehend.
“what happened?”
“how many fingers am i holding up?”
“can you see?”
“what day is it?” 
the questions blur together in a haze.
katara asks the final question. “how’s your head?” her fingers tap against your forehead.
“mm no complaints” you mumble giddily, huffing a laugh at yourself as your world stars to shift back into focus.
“huh?” sokka grunts out, trying to make sense of your murmuring.
“i said..”you repeat louder, mind still fuzzy. “no complaints.”
“complaints?” aang echoes confused.
“right, zuko?” you turn your concussed attention to your partner of many many years, bottom lip jutting out as you wait for his answer.
zuko goes bright red, the tips of his ear staining pink as he offers a tight yet entirely enamoured smile.
“right?” you ask again, pout deepening, as you blearily blink up at your fiancé.
he can’t help the soft laugh that bubbles out of him as he reaches down to sweep your hair back behind your ears, palm cupping your jaw.
“no complaints” he squeezes the fat of your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger affectionately. “but we’re more concerned about your actual head. how’s it feeling?”
“actual head? huh? what are you….” sokka questions with an exasperated sigh.
it takes him three more seconds before he catches on.
“ooooh…gross.”
a/n: idk how i feel about this but it’s been in my head (hehe get it) and i have a full fic but idk if you guys wanna read it lmk pls
Warning: angst!! talks about PPD, heavy themes of shame and self hatred.
After your third child with Sokka, some things start to shift. Your other births seem to gone fine but this one has taken a toll on you and this time it’s very difficult to snap back.
It had been a month since you gave birth. Your baby lay asleep in her bassinet while you remained in bed beside her. You had no energy to move whatsoever, your entire body felt drained and weak, like your organs had been ripped out and shoved back in.
You felt awful. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself to get up, you couldn’t. Your mind wanted to, but your body said no.
Your body wasn’t your own anymore. It belonged to someone else.
You stared at the woven bassinet watching your baby begin to squirm. She was waking up.
The thought of hearing her cries sickened you, but it also filled you with guilt. You wanted to be a good mother and care for her, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Her soft cries quickly became screams. Your eyes began to water as you pulled the covers over your head.
You felt immense guilt, but more than anything you wanted her to just be quiet.
Soft footsteps padded against the floor, followed by quiet coos echoing through the room.
“Shh, baby girl. Mama needs her rest.”
It was Sokka.
No matter what he tried, she wouldn’t stop crying. You knew she was hungry, you could hear it in her cries, but you couldn’t produce anything.
For the past week you had been bone dry, leaving her to survive off watered-down goat’s milk provided by your mother.
Every cry from the baby felt like a reminder of your failure.
You squeezed your eyes shut beneath the blanket hearing Sokka continue to pace the room, softly bouncing the screaming infant in his arms.
“C’mon sweetheart,” he whispered tiredly. “Please don’t wake your brother and sister up too.”
Guilt twisted violently in your stomach. You should be the one holding her. Feeding her, comforting her, Instead you laid there rotting in bed while your husband cared for a child your body failed to provide for.
Your fingers curled tightly into the blankets. You hated yourself for it. The room suddenly felt too hot. Her cries too loud.
Your breathing began to shorten as flashes of blood stained your mind.
It was a blurry mess. Katara’s voice, your mother crying, someone yelling for more towels.
You remembered how cold your body felt despite sweating through your clothes. The terrifying weightlessness that came after.
“Stay awake!”Your eyes snapped open.
The bedroom came back slowly, the lantern light dim and warm instead of blinding white. No blood. No screaming healers. Just Sokka standing near the bassinet with dark circles beneath his eyes.
You swallowed hard. Sokka looked exhausted that felt like another thing that was your fault.
He gently laid the baby against his shoulder, rubbing small circles against her back before glancing toward the bed. When your eyes met his you quickly looked away pretending to focus on the wall.
You couldn’t stand the concern on his face anymore It felt too humiliating.
At first everyone had been understanding. Childbirth was hard, especially after nearly dying during it. But now a month had passed and you still could barely force yourself out of bed.
You hadn’t brushed your hair in days.
Sometimes you stared at the bath water until it went cold because the idea of undressing made you sick. Your body no longer felt like yours. It felt ruined. Foreign. Used.
Sokka quietly approached the bed rocking the baby gently in his arms.
“She’s hungry again,” he said softly. Anger and shame burned through you instantly.
You already knew. Your chest ached painfully, empty and useless all at once.
“I tried,” you whispered weakly, voice cracking. “I tried to feed her earlier.”Sokka’s expression immediately softened. “Hey,” he murmured carefully. “I know you did.
But you barely heard him.
All you could think was that he deserved someone better. Someone stronger. A woman who could actually be a mother instead of this hollow exhausted thing curled beneath blankets avoiding her own baby’s cries.
•••
It was a new day and somehow the same unbearable feeling sat heavy in your chest.
Your mother entered quietly carrying a steaming bowl of cabbage soup, the scent filling the room. You weren’t hungry but she still placed it carefully into your hands anyway, watching you with that worried look everyone seemed to wear around you now.
“Just a few bites,” she urged gently.
You nodded weakly.
The spoon trembled slightly in your hand as you forced yourself to eat enough to keep something on your stomach. The soup was warm but it settled heavily like stones.
Your mother smiled when you finished half the bowl.
“There you go,” she said softly as if you’d accomplished something great. The praise only made shame curl tighter around your ribs.
Later that afternoon Katara visited for another healing session.
Cool water swirled around her fingers glowing softly blue as she pressed her hands carefully against your abdomen. The ache in your body eased slightly beneath her bending, the soreness in your hips and back dulling enough for you to breathe easier.
“You’re recovering well,” Katara assured gently. “Your body’s much stronger than it was last week.”
You stared blankly at the floorboards. Your body, maybe. Your mind still felt trapped somewhere in that room a month ago surrounded by blood and screaming and fear.
Katara’s voice softened. “Healing takes time.”
You wondered if she knew you weren’t talking about the physical pain anymore.
Once she left, Sokka crouched beside the bed resting his forearms against his knees. His eyes looked exhausted lately, purple shadows lingering beneath them no matter how much he tried to hide it.
“You should get some air,” he suggested carefully, his eyes pleading. “Just for a little while.”
“I’m tired Sokka.”
“I know.” His voice stayed gentle. “But you’ve been inside for days.”
The thought alone sounded exhausting. Still, after several minutes of quiet convincing, you finally let him help you up from the bed.
Your legs felt weak as he guided you outside, one hand steady against your back like he was afraid you’d collapse.
The sunlight hit your skin warmly. It clamor brought a smile to your face, for the first time in weeks the fresh air felt nice.
Children’s laughter echoed through the village while snow crunched softly beneath passing footsteps. Somewhere nearby someone was cooking fish over a fire. Life continued so normally around you it almost felt cruel.
You sat quietly beside Sokka wrapped tightly in furs while he bounced the baby gently in his arms.
Then you saw them.
Village mothers gathered not far away smiling softly as they spoke amongst themselves, babies bundled securely against their chests. One woman laughed while adjusting her infant tied to her back, another pressed a kiss against her baby’s forehead while swaying gently side to side.
It looked so easy for them, so… natural. Your chest tightened painfully, your arms suddenly felt empty.
A horrible thought slithered into your mind. They probably talked about you when you weren’t around.
“Poor thing. Three children and she still can’t handle motherhood”
“She can barely feed the baby.”
“Can barely leave her bed.”
Heat flooded your face as your breathing began to shake. You quickly looked away but it was too late, tears already burned down your cheeks.
“I can’t do this,” you whispered brokenly.
Sokka turned immediately. “Hey, hey—”
“I wanna go back inside.” Your voice cracked sharply. “Please.”
Concern overtook his face instantly. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t push. He simply stood and carefully helped you to your feet.
Your body trembled the entire walk back home. The second the door shut behind you the pressure in your chest exploded. You collapsed to your knees covering your mouth trying to muffle the sob that escaped you.
Sokka quickly reached for you but you stepped away first.
“Don’t,” you choked out.
His face fell.
“You saw them,” you cried quietly. “They make it look so easy.”
“Aang and Katara had three kids and she still smiled after all of them. My mother did it. Every woman here does it except me.”
Your breathing hitched painfully.
“There’s… something wrong with me.”
The words barely left your mouth before another sob ripped its way out of you. You quickly covered your face in humiliation, shoulders shaking violently.
Sokka stood frozen for a moment watching you crumble in front of him. There was no enemy to fight. No battle strategy. No clever joke to fix this.
Just you in pain and he had no idea how to save you. Carefully he stepped closer, like approaching a wounded animal frightened of being touched.
“Hey,” he whispered softly. “Look at me.”
You just couldn’t. Your nails dug harshly into your skin as your breathing became more uneven. Everything inside you felt raw and unbearable.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choked out. “I had the others and I was fine. I was happy.”
Sokka’s face tightened at the pain in your voice.
“When she cries I just…” Your throat burned. “I— I try so hard but sometimes I hear her and I just want it to stop.”
The confession hung heavily in the room. You finally looked at him then, terrified. Waiting for disgust waiting for him to shame you for being a bad mom.
“For everything to stop,” you whispered brokenly.
Sokka’s expression faltered. Not because he was horrified but because he finally understood how deep the pain truly went.
Your hands covered your face again as shame crashed over you. “What kind of mother thinks that?”
“Baby a hurting one,” Sokka answered immediately.
The gentleness in his voice only made you cry harder. You felt his arms carefully wrap around you but even then you struggled to relax against him, guilt clawing through your chest.
“I can’t even feed her.”
“You’re trying.”
You scoff “I can barely hold her.”
“You almost died!” His voice cracked unexpectedly, fills with so much pent up hurt and pain. “Do you think that just…doesn’t leave scars?”
That made you pause, you knew this was also affecting Sokka but you didn’t realize how much hurt and pain he was going from almost losing you. Sokka swallowed hard before continuing quieter this time.
“I almost lost you” Silence filled the room except for your uneven breathing and the distant soft fussing of the baby from her bassinet nearby.
Your eyes instinctively darted toward the sound. Instantly guilt flooded you again.
“She deserves better,” you whispered.
Sokka pulled back just enough to look at you fully. “No,” he said firmly. “She deserves you.” As if hearing his voice, the baby’s cries began growing louder again from across the room.
Your body tensed immediately, part of you wanted to run to her and hold her snd the other part told you no, you’d find a way to mess up.
Sokka noticed.
Without a word he stood and carefully lifted the baby from the bassinet, gently rocking her against his shoulder before walking back over.
Your stomach twisted anxiously the second he lowered her toward you.
“I can’t,” you said quickly, panic rising.
“Yes, you can.” His voice stayed calm. “You don’t have to do everything today. Just…just hold her.”
Your arms hesitated before slowly lifting. The baby settled uncertainly against your chest still fussing softly. You stiffened waiting for panic to take over again. Instead the infant gave a small whine before nestling closer to your warmth.
Then slowly…quietly she settled. Your breath hitched and a fresh wave of tears filled your eyes but this time something else mixed within them.
Not happiness not yet but something gentler. Everything wasn’t magically fixed yet but this felt like progress.
“See she knows you,” Sokka whispered.
Your breath trembled softly as you looked down at her curled against your chest. She was finally quiet. Tiny fingers loosely curled against the fabric of your shirt while soft sleepy breaths warmed your skin.
For weeks you had convinced yourself she didn’t need you that you becoming her mother was a mistake. Yet here she was comfortably sleeping against you.
Resting peacefully in your arms like she belonged there. Another tear slipped down your cheek.
“I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “What if I never get better?”
Sokka’s hand gently covered yours rubbing his thumb against it.
“You will,” he said softly. “Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not all at once. But you will.”
You shook your head weakly. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
“I know.” His voice cracked slightly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re gone.”Silence settled between you both, soft and heavy but no longer suffocating.
Outside the wind howled faintly against the walls of the house while the fire crackled nearby. Somewhere down the hall your older children laughed at something your mother said. Life still moved forward even through the pain.
Sokka carefully brushed damp hair away from your face.
“You don’t have to survive this alone,” he whispered. “Katara’s here. Your mother’s here. I’m here.”
Fresh tears welled in your eyes again not because the pain was gone, It wasn’t.
Your body still ached. Your mind still felt bruised and exhausted and afraid. Tomorrow could still be difficult. There would still be bad days.
But for the first time in weeks the darkness no longer felt endless.You looked back down at your daughter sleeping quietly against your chest and slowly allowed yourself to hold her a little closer.
Synopsis: You and Sokka married, both of you stubborn, devoted, and entirely too in love. Same year you had your first child and while you were overjoyed, something in Sokka shifted. He didn’t just want a family. He wanted a legacy. (art from Pinterest)
Pt2 Missing Your Touch
Sokka had always been an enthusiastic person. As a child, he threw himself into everything. Training, hunting, leading, even his terrible ideas. So when he married you at twenty-two, he made a promise to give you everything he had.
And Sokka, unfortunately, had a lot to give.
You had your first child that same year, a beautiful baby girl with your features and Sokka’s entire personality packed into a tiny, chubby, unstoppable body.
“Look at her!” Sokka beamed one afternoon, crouched low as your daughter toddled across the floor, clutching a poorly carved toy boomerang. “Baby, she’s perfect. She’s already a warrior.”
“She just tried to eat snow like five minutes ago,” you replied, leaning against the doorway.
“She’s innovative,” he corrected proudly.
You scoffed into a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He turned his head just enough to steal one from you instead. That should’ve been your first warning, because something in Sokka clicked that day. And from that moment on…he wanted more.
More laughter, more chaos, more chubby grabby hands, more little feet running across the ice floors.
More you.
And unfortunately you Sokka didn’t believe in doing anything halfway.
•••
You should’ve known something was up the second Gran Gran looked at you like that.
You were sitting beside her, helping sew tiny fur-lined coats for the expecting mothers in the village. The needle moved steadily in your hands, but Gran Gran’s gaze lingered on you, sharp and knowingly.
“What?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously. She smiled slowly, eyes soft but entirely too perceptive.
“I think,” she said, patting your knee, “we should make one more… for you.”
You blinked for a second registering her words, “Gran Gran no.”
She hummed nodding. You just laughed it off shaking your head, she’s ridiculous.
Two months later, you were staring at your round reflection in complete disbelief.
Seven months after that—twins…twin boys!
Sokka nearly lost his mind.
“Two?!” he shouted, pacing the room while you held one baby in each arm. “We made TWO?!” The babies blabbed blowing raspberries with their spit having no idea what was going on.
“You helped,” you said dryly.
He dropped to his knees in front of you, eyes shining like stars in the midnight sky. “This is incredible. This is— this is strategy. This is expansion. This is—”
“This is you not sleeping for the next year,” you cut in. He didn’t even hear a word you said. By the next week, he had already built some ridiculous contraption to carry all three children at once. It had straps, hooks and something that looked suspiciously like a modified fishing net.
“It’s efficient!” he insisted as you stared at it.
You stood with a hand on your hip with your head tilted, “It’s a safety hazard.”
“It’s innovative.” He had his arms open in awe.
“Just like the snow eating, huh?”
He wore a big bright grin “…Exactly like the snow eating.”
The third time truly was NOT your fault. New Year’s Festival, Gran Gran offered to see the kids. The entire village was celebrating, fireworks, alcohol, music, and dance.
And your husband? Your very affectionate, very determined husband decided that the storage tent behind the main hall was “private enough.” Nine months later, you had another daughter…
Gran Gran didn’t even act surprised anymore she just welcomed her with open arms.
Ten years passed in what felt like a blur of laughter, exhaustion, sleepless nights and tiny voices calling for you at all hours of the day.
Six children.
Four girls. Two boys. A home that was never quiet, and a husband who still looked at you like you were the best decision he had ever made.
The village noticed, of course they did.
At first, it was small comments. The little jokes. Nothing malicious just amused, fond observations whispered between mothers while hanging laundry or gathering water.
“I heard Chief Sokka might single-handedly repopulate the Southern Water Tribe.” Giggles followed.
“Oh, please. At this rate, they’ll need a second house.”
“I give it two more years before they run out of names.”
You didn’t hear any of it. Not until your best friend Leila told you.
Leila leaned casually against your open doorway, watching as you expertly balanced a toddler wrapped to your chest while braiding your eldest daughter’s hair.
“You know,” she said, biting back a grin, “people are starting to talk.”
You didn’t even bother to look up. “If this is about the twins putting fish in someone’s boots again, I already handled it. They're cleaning them as we speak.”
“No, no,” she waved you off. “It’s not bad gossip. It’s just—” she paused, trying not to laugh. “They joke about you and Sokka repopulating the entire tribe.”
You stilled. Slowly, you turned your head. You didn’t know how to feel about hearing that.
“…What?”
Leila lost it sitting down her basket and coming inside to take a seat, “I’m serious! Six kids in ten years? People are impressed— a little concerned and afraid but overall impressed.”
You blinked. Then glanced around your home at the scattered toys, the half-finished chores, the sheer number of small humans moving around you.
“Oh…Okay,” you admitted slowly. “That’s…kind of fair.”
•••
You thought about what Leila said all day and decided to bring it up later, casually though.
The house was loud as usual children scattered across the floor, toys half-finished, one of the boys arguing loudly with his sister over something completely nonsensical. Sokka sat beside you, one child asleep across his lap as you folded laundry nearby.
“So,” you started, “The village thinks we’re trying to repopulate the Southern Water Tribe…”
Sokka snorted. “What? That’s just ridiculous.”
You hummed. “I mean… six kids, Sokka. That’s quite a few.”
He paused, seemingly in thought. You narrowed your eyes waiting for a response, “…Sokka?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Well…” he said carefully. “When you put it like that…”
“Sokka.” Your stern tone hinting for him to spit it out. “I just—” he shrugged, trying (and failing) to look innocent. “I kinda thought we’d have more ya know?.”
Silence fell over the room. You stared at him as you felt your eye began to twitch and fist tighten around the clothes you held.
Sokka being Sokka smiled trying to make it better. Big mistake.
You set the laundry down slowly. “More?” you asked making sure you heard your husband correctly. The room went quiet just the crackle of the fire and Sokka’s very audible gulp.
“Just a few,” he said quickly. “You know round it out.” You stood, he immediately knew he screwed up.
“Sokka have. you lost your damn mind?! A few more— ROUND IT OUT?! Look at me, are I not round enough? I have spit out six children and you want more—“
“Wait—”
“You know what I’m never letting you touch me again.”
“WHAT— hey, that was a joke!” he scrambled to his feet laying his once sleeping baby on his lap on the nearest softest surface. He ran after you calling your name but you paid him no mind.
“You have six children, Sokka. SIX!”
He continued to follow you around your home like a lost otter penguin, “And they’re amazing!”
“You are done.”
“I’m not done—”
“You’re done!”
He continued to follow after you, actual panic setting in. “Baby, be reasonable—”
“Go be a father!” you snapped, gesturing to the chaos of your home.
“Wha- I am a father!”
“Well be more of one!”
“I can do both!” He pleaded.
You stopped, turned, and gave him a look so sharp it could’ve cut an ice berg down. He froze in his tracks, even as the Chief of The Southern Water Tribe his wife is the sole person who can strike fear in him (besides Gran Gran).
“…I’m joking,” he said weakly.
You stared at him a second longer before turning and walking off toward your children playing with the other kids you invited over earlier. Sokka stood there, watching you walk then glanced around at his six kids, then looked back at you.
“I could handle one more...” he muttered.
Across the room, Gran Gran— who had definitely heard everything sighed deeply.
“You,” she called, pointing at Sokka without even looking at him, “are going to be the death of that poor girl.” The other village mothers nodded in agreement.
Sokka frowned into a scowl. “Oh, go home already!” The women paid him no mind.
suggestive, established relationship, super fluffy!! mentions of marriage, katara cameo
you’re quite literally freezing your ass off.
you knew it would be cold. but you didn’t expect you’d feel like death was at your door.
the temperature isn’t the only thing that’s absurd. it’s the ice beneath you. no solid ground. you can’t feel mother earth beneath your feet and it’s so weird.
you hug your arms tighter around yourself, trying to keep it together. the fur coat sokka gave you before the trip isn’t helping much now—even though you’d actually been sweating in it earlier.
“you’re freezing,” he suddenly points out.
you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s wearing that teasing smile.
you only huff. “i’m fine.”
he doesn’t even pretend to believe you.
a gust of wind cuts through—and this time you visibly flinch.
his head snaps toward you, and he gasps dramatically before immediately moving in, wrapping himself around you like a stubborn koala.
“aww… my poor princess.”
you let out a startled squeak, muffled against his furs.
“sokka get off—”
he doesn’t answer as he ushers you toward the indoors quickly, the two of you waddling like penguins.
you haven’t even properly greeted any of his family or friends yet. rude.
“sokka! wh-what about your grandma? won’t she want to talk to you first? it’s rude to—”
“oh puh-lease,” he interrupts with an exaggerated eye roll, “i’m sure gran gran will understand that i don’t want my cute little girlfriend getting hypothermia.”
that shuts you up. heat rushes to your cheeks despite the blistering cold attacking your face.
when you finally reach indoors, it’s like your entire body finally remembers how to function again.
warmth. finally.
“welcome to my humble abode!”
you barely even take the chance to take everything in before he’s suddenly right in front of you. toe to toe. he tilts his head down a little, inspecting you.
“my poor baby looks tragic,” he says with a small pout.
“i’m c-cold,” you spit out, still shivering.
“yeah, i can see that.”
you’re unable to muster a glare at him. he only smiles apologetically before reaching to cup your face.
you freeze in a different way this time.
it shocks you how his hands are so warm despite the cold. it’s so unfair. the man’s been hiding a fire somewhere and only decided to share it now.
“sokka—” you start, but it comes out a little weaker than intended.
he hums, like he’s satisfied with the reaction, and gently rubs his thumbs along your cheeks.
“you’re still cold,” he sighs. “let me warm you up. it’s my duty.”
“duty as what? my boyfriend?” you mumble, then immediately take it back. “actually— yeah. it is your duty,” you add quickly, scoffing as you lean into his warmth anyway.
sokka only grins, bright and smug.
you barely take a step before your footing falters. anyone else might’ve missed it. but your strategic boyfriend doesn’t.
his hand tightens around yours instantly. “whoa, hey.”
you try to brush it off, but your balance is still off, your body not quite trusting what’s beneath you. or rather… what isn’t. he studies you for half a second, then huffs like he’s just confirmed something obvious.
“babe. you’re done.”
“pfft— what?”
“you’re wobbling. like a baby penguin. come on.”
you glare, but it loses all its effect when you nearly tip again. “it’s— it’s the sickness from flying not from…”
you decide to shut up because you don’t even believe your own words.
sokka’s guiding—well, steering—you across the room, hands firm on your shoulders.
you groan, “sokka—”
“nuh uh. no complaints. i’m being a good boyfriend right now, remember? you said it’s my duty.”
you regret ever saying that. you’ll know he’ll be bringing it up forever.
he leads you over to his bed—layers of soft, thick furs piled up. he sits you down like you’re fragile and might shatter if he’s too rough. which honestly, yeah, that’s what you feel like right now.
you sink into the furs instantly, letting out sound of surprise at how soft they are. it melts his heart.
before you can even process it, he’s already pulling more furs over you with a noise of adoration, tucking them around your shoulders, your sides—everywhere. like he’s building a cocoon around you.
“awww, there you go,” he says, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “nice and bundled.”
and then, because apparently that’s not enough—he climbs in right after you.
“what are you doing?”
“what does it look like i’m doing?” he says, already settling in, pulling the furs up around both of you. “shared body heat. very efficient.”
“hmph.”
he shifts closer, with a smile, arms wrapping around you again, but more purposefully this time.
“aww… you’re still cold,” he coos softly, voice dropping into something unbearably gentle. “poor thing.”
your face burns.
“stop talking like that,” you mutter, trying and failing to sound annoyed.
“like what?” he teases, brushing his hand along your arm. “i’m just concerned about my girlfriend freezing like a popsicle.”
“it’s your fault! you didn’t even warn me it would be this cold,” you complain, huddling closer without thinking.
“okay, in my defense, this is like… sweater weather for me.”
your eyes nearly boggle out of your eyes.
“sweater weather?”
he shrugs, unapologetic. “what? it’s not that bad.”
cocky bastard.
you make a noise of pure disbelief, burying your face deeper into the furs. into him, maybe. not that you’d admit how warm he feels.
“you’re crazy,” you mumble.
he laughs. ugh. you love that laugh. sokka tightens his arms around you, “well, this crazy guy here is still the one that’s keeping you warm.”
“hmph.”
sokka can’t help but laugh again. he loves when you get all huffy and puffy. you hate that he’s right. but you hate it a lot less when you stop shivering.
a comfortable silence settles in after that—broken only by the quiet of wind outside and the soft sounds of breathing.
you don’t even realize how much you’ve relaxed until your grip on his tunic loosens, your once ice like body finally thawing out piece by piece.
sokka’s hand absentmindedly traces slow circles along your arm.
you could fall asleep like this.
but then the flap to the tent swings open.
“okay, what is—”
you jolt upright.
katara stands in the doorway, mouth dropping, staring at the two of you tangled up in furs like she’s just walked into something she definitely did not ask to see.
your entire face goes hot.
you scramble, sitting up a little straighter, offering her an awkward, apologetic look. “sorry—”
“hey what’s that look for?” sokka cuts in immediately, not bothering to move an inch, arm still firmly around you. “i’m keeping your future sister in law from dying. you’re welcome.”
your brain short circuits.
future what?
you make a small, strangled noise, eyes widening as your face somehow gets even hotter.
“sokka!” you hiss, trying to elbow him, which doesn’t really work when you’re still pressed to him.
“anyway, we’re gonna be a while,” he adds, way too casually. he grins, completely unfazed, wiggling his brows at her.
katara’s face twists.
“oh. that’s—” she makes a dramatic gagging sound, turning away. “that’s disgusting.”
“you’re the one who walked in without even asking!” sokka retorts. “this is on you!”
“i didn’t expect to see this! i was going to tell you gran gran was looking for you guys but now i’m going to bleach my eyes.”
you cover your cheeks with your hands. “i’m so sorry.”
katara points at sokka without even looking at him. “you’re insufferable.”
“as if you and aang aren’t the same! all we’re going is cuddling in private! not even pda.” he shoots back.
“whatever! i’m leaving. please stay in here. both of you.”
“gladly. but tell gran gran i’m just warming y/n up!” he calls.
she grunt and zips the tent back up with a little more force than necessary.
“she’s so dramatic.”
“future sister in law?” you mumble at the same time.
he lets out a hum absentmindedly, like he doesn’t see the problem at all, resting his chin lightly against your head. he shifts when you don’t respond, “yeah?”
you still don’t know what to say.
his fingers tilt your chin up so you’re looking at him.
your brows furrow. “are you serious?”
sokka looks confused that you’re confused.
“i mean, of course i am,” he starts, totally calm, “katara and aang are already married.” he gestures vaguely, “so… we’re next, right?”
your heart begins pounding in your chest.
“i mean— not to rush you!” he adds quickly, “no pressure. but like… i like you. a lot. you know that. and i figured, eventually, right?”
you will your heart to behave.
you gulp. “sokka…”
he exhales shakily but still looks much too composed compared to you. a moment passes and uncertainty grows inside him, suddenly aware he might’ve said too much too fast.
“hey— shoot. you don’t have to say anything. i’m sorry. i’m not trying to freak you out.”
that helps. kind of. your hands are still clutching the furs like they’re the only thing keeping you anchored.
you take in a big breath, still trying to calm yourself down.
you try your best to get the words out but it takes a whole minute.
“no… um… i’d like that, sokka. it just caught me off guard,” you manage finally, voice small. “someday. maybe… soon?”
the second the words leave your mouth, his expression changes. his eyes widen a fraction, like it takes a second to process that you actually meant it.
and then his ears go red.
fast.
“wait,” you say, still a little shaky but suddenly more aware, “are you— are you blushing?”
“no,” he responds instantly.
you squint at him, a smile tugging at your lips.
he coughs into his hand. “i am not blushing. it’s just a little hot in here.”
you sit up a little more, and yep. he’s definitely blushing. a tinge of red is creeping up onto his cheeks the more you stare at him.
you can’t help but giggle.
“sokka!”
why was he so damn cute?
he looks away for half a second, then back at you, trying very hard to recover his usual smugness and failing.
“you can’t just say that,” he mutters.
“you were the one who started it!”
“well, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “but i didn’t think you’d actually agree like that.”
you grin up at him, unconsciously leaning into him again.
“of course i would. i like you a lot, too.”
sokka groans, pulling you closer. he’s still red and visibly flustered—but he’s smiling big because he can’t help himself.
“yeah?” he repeats, like he needs to hear it again just to believe it. his brows lift a little, stll red in the face. “you like me a lot too?”
you roll your eyes but don’t move away.
“yes, sokka. this wouldn’t me the 6th year of us dating if i didn’t like you. keep up.”
that earns a breathy laugh out of him as he pulls you in a much tighter like that answer unlocked something in his brain.
“okay,” he says quickly, trying to act normal. “okay, cool. good. great. yep.”
you laugh right in his face, “stop being so cute.”
his voice grows high pitched, “shut up. no i’m not!”
“yes you areee,” you sing.
“ugh.”
he stops trying to argue with words and goes straight for you. his hands come up to your face, thumbs brushing along your cheeks because he always knows exactly how to shut you up.
when you pout petulantly, his thumbs graze your lips.
but then a gasp jolts you out of the reverie.
“why are your lips still cold?” he asks, offended. “i thought i fixed that.”
you groan. “you’re so annoying, sokka.”
“whatever. this is unacceptable.”
“sokka—”
he doesn’t let you finish.
he kisses you without hesitation.
you let out an embarrassing noise of surprise against his lips. he immediately deepens the kiss as you part your mouth.
damn him. even after six years, he never fails to make your stomach erupt into butterflies. sokka lets out a satisfied sound against your lips af your reaction, not even bothering to hide it.
his grip cupping your face tightens just slightly. not rough, of course, just more certain.
the kiss grows messier by a mile, soft groans and wet lips echoing throughout the tent. your hands tangle into his tied up hair, pulling out both hair ties of his signature updo so you can rake your hands through his locks.
sokka’s breath catches, and this time he pulls back enough to exhale a quiet, breathy laugh against you. it’s warm, almost disbelieving, like he can’t believe this is his life.
and he has no complaints whatsoever.
his lips never leave your skin, pressing kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your chin. you shiver—not from the cold this time—tilting your head back to give him access when his warm mouth find your neck.
his hand slides down from your cheek, trailing along your shoulder. then your arm, then your side, until it lands on your thigh.
a soft, strangled noise leaves your mouth. his mouth brushes along the spot where your collarbone meets your neck, kissing a sensitive spot that makes your thighs clench involuntarily.
“sokka…” you sigh. you’re lost in the pleasure of each kiss when he pulls away to look back at you.
“yeah?”
you only shake your head, pulling him back in by tugging the roots of his soft hair.
he lets out a noise that brings butterflies to your stomach, before pressing his lips back to yours.
the next kiss is hungry and desperate. he rolls to cage you in before his hands grip at your thighs, pulling them up around his waist. it brings your body flush against his, and the friction has him groaning against your lips.
his fingers grip your waist tightly, and with immense ease, he flips you both over.
now you’re straddling him, out of breath, the furs tangled around your waist.
“mmh your lips are finally warm now…”
you only whine, annoyed that he’s bringing this up again and more turned on than you should be. he lets out a smug chuckle at the noise knowing exactly what he does to you.
your legs are trembling. the friction against his hardening length driving you crazy.
you pull back from the kiss, trying to catch your breath and restrain yourself. “i hate you.”
“you definitely love me,” he grins.
“mhm…”
you’re too far gone to be in charge of anything that comes out of your mouth.
he lets out another breathy laugh at the unconscious admission. he rolls his hips up against yours, letting you feel exactly how you’re affecting him.
you let out something dangerously close to a moan.
“yeah?” he presses another kiss to your jaw. “say it again.”
you blink through hazy eyes, “say what?”
his thumbs dig into your waist gently, eyes dark with want.
“say you love me,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. “because i love you. so much it’s kinda stupid.”
his grin is crooked, his cheeks suddenly red again.
your pulse skips.
you gulp, the 3 lettered phrase you want to say back heavy on your tongue.
“i love you too, sokka.”
his entire face softens, grip loosening. it’s almost like he’s hearing you say it out loud for the first time again.
“say it again,” he breathes.
you roll your eyes.
“i love you.”
he doesn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitches this time. his hands slide up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he's memorizing the moment.
“cool,” he whispers. voice embarrassingly shaky. “good to know.”
you burst out laughing.
“oh my god,” you wheeze, falling forward against his chest. “you’re ridiculous.”
he hugs you tight, laughing into your hair—blushing profusely and holding you like you’re everything.
“shut up,” he mutters, voice muffled against your hair. “you’re the one who made me all mushy.”
you tilt your head up, grinning. “i didn’t make you anything. this is all you, sokka.”
he scoffs but doesn’t deny it. instead, he pulls the furs tighter around you both and settles back into the bed with a contented sigh—your body curled perfectly into his side.
“hey,” you say softly after a beat.
“hmm?”
“shouldn’t i introduce myself to your grandmother now?”
he groans dramatically.
“that can wait till tomorrow, princess.”
“no it can’t! you don’t want your grandmother to have a bad first impression of her future daughter in law, do you?”
his lips part and he lets out a heavy breath.
“oh shit. don’t say that. i’m gonna get hard again.”
“sokka!!”
ATLA taglist is now open!!
comment to be tagged in my future works <3
so i finally finished writing something after a month of not posting anything!! i’m sorry i keep doing this i swear i wanna be more consistent😓 also i was planning to finish the zuko fic you guys voted for first, but my brain vomited this heheh
It started, as most things did in your household, with one child bragging.
You were sitting on the steps just outside your home in Republic City, enjoying what should have been a quiet afternoon, one hand resting over your stomach while the youngest leaned sleepily against your side. The other four were scattered nearby...if “scattered” meant loudly existing within a ten-foot radius.
A small group of neighborhood kids had gathered, and somehow, somehow, the conversation had turned to parents.
“Oh yeah?” one of the boys said, puffing up a little. “My dad’s a metalbender. He can bend a whole gate without touching it.”
There was a pause and then your oldest snorted.
“That’s it?” He said, crossing his arms in a way that was painfully familiar. “That’s cool, I guess. But our dad helped take down an entire fleet of airships.”
The other kids blinked. “…what?”
That was all the invitation the rest of them needed.
“Yeah!” your second chimed in, as she was practically bouncing. “He was on one of them!!!! like in the sky!! fighting Fire Nation soldiers and stuff!”
“He didn’t even have bending!” the third added loudly, as she puffed out her cheeks as if that somehow made it more impressive and honestly, it did. “He just used his brain and a boomerang and—”
“And a sword!” another cut in, dramatically miming a swing that nearly took out someone passing by but she paid no mind.
“And strategy,” your oldest corrected, pointing like they’d heard the word a thousand times. “He’s a strategist. That’s like… the smartest kind of fighter.”
The smallest one, still pressed against your side, lifted his head just enough to mumble, “He also makes really good stew…”
You smiled despite yourself.
Across the yard, Sokka had just stepped outside—probably looking for you, maybe looking for a snack and paused the moment he heard his own voice being… passionately represented.
“…he literally helped defeat Fire Lord Ozai,” one of the kids declared, like they were dropping the final, undeniable truth. “So yeah. Our daddy wins.”
The other children looked somewhere between impressed and overwhelmed.
One of them squinted. “Isn’t he just… a guy?”
Suddenly there was collective group of inhales.
You almost felt bad.
Almost.
“He is not ‘just a guy,’” your oldest said, offended on a spiritual level. “He’s Daddy...."
“Yeah,” another nodded firmly. “He saved people. Like, a lot of people.”
“And he makes the best jokes,” one added.
“And he lets us stay up late sometimes,” another said.
“And he cried when I got a scrape,” the smallest mumbled again, fully exposing him.
Sokka choked on absolutely nothing. “…I did not—” he started, but no one was listening.
“And,” your second continued, hands on her hips now, “our mommy is a firebender. So obviously she wouldn’t marry someone lame.”
That one made you laugh out loud. Sokka, meanwhile, had gone completely still.
You could see it happening, the slow, creeping realization that his children were out here, in the streets, running full-scale propaganda campaigns about him.
“…wow,” he whispered.
You didn’t even look at him.
“Don’t get used to it,” you said dryly.
Too late,
“DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Sokka called, striding forward like he’d just been summoned to his own victory ceremony. “Did you all hear what my kids just said about me? Because I heard it. I heard all of it.”
The kids lit up immediately.
“Daddy!” one of them yelled, running over. “Tell them about the airships!”
“Yes, absolutely, I will do that,” he said, already crouching down, fully invested. “So there I was—heroically, might I add, on top of this giant metal airship—”
You leaned back slightly, watching as he launched into a dramatically exaggerated retelling, your children hanging onto every word like it was the greatest story ever told.
It wasn’t entirely accurate.
But it was entirely Sokka.
And the way they looked at him?
Like he hung the moon.
You glanced down at the child curled against you, brushing a hand gently through his hair. “…he kind of does, doesn’t he?” you murmured.
The little one nodded sleepily. “Yeah… he’s the best.”
Across the yard, Sokka tripped over his own storytelling, arms flailing as the kids erupted into laughter and somehow, impossibly, still looked like the greatest man in the world.
And to them?
He always would be.
i blog about fandoms here :) @septemberctdfics - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
