zuko's lips parted in yet another moan as the glazed look in his eyes darkened. one hand flew to your hair, gently but firmly holding onto you by the roots. his thighs tensed under your soft palms.
for the past few weeks, you'd been worried about your precious fire lord. the calm and confident man who was so quietly sure of his words had been doubting himself increasingly often, whether it be to hesitate before avatar meetings, or simply keep quiet in areas you know he was qualified. this of course would not fly with you. after all, you were a very strong motivator and articulate speaker. you were his wife for a reason.
but when you first proposed the idea to lift his spirits, he couldn't possibly imagine that this was what you meant. he thought his smart, beautiful wife would give him a well earned pep-talk, but you didn't seem to be talking at all.
no, quite the opposite.
he thrusted forward involuntarily again, feeling the soft fluttering of your throat wrapped around his swollen cock as you sputtered and gagged. your nails dug into his thighs, leaving red crescent-shaped indents to remind him later of his motivation session.
you unstuck your throat from him, leaving his rock-hard erection with a wet pop! spit and slick dribbled down his length, accumulating at the base in an indecent puddle.
"who are you, baby?"
"t-the fire lor-ngh-"
your tongue continued its relentless teasing of the sensitive underside of his painfully flushed tip. taking him in your mouth again, you continued your descent until your eyelashes batted against the curly mess of his thicket of hair. he fucking whimpered.
he was going to learn his lesson damn well, even if you ruined his cock in the process.
this drabble is inspired by this gorgeous artwork by @dragondruk
"My love..." Zuko whispered softly, your rouge was covering his skin in patches.
You laughed sweetly, shushing him and pressing another kiss to his jaw, making him shiver. He tried his best to chase your mouth but you weren't giving him the privilege. It seemed that you were going to kiss him everywhere except where he desired it the most.
"Please, my love. Just one." He begged again, his throat exposed as you pulled his head back by his hair, making him whine.
"Not yet." You simply said and placed another kiss on his skin. This time, right on his Adam's apple.
His eyes scrunched close as a warm breath escaped him. He swallowed hard, his hands pawing at your waist.
"For someone so powerful-" You purred, kissing him on his chest, a perfect ring of red lipstain on his left nipple, "You're awfully well-behaved." You applied rouge again then kissed down his abs.
You could feel the muscles flexing against your lips, making you giddy.
"Only- ah- Only for you, my love-" He whined, his fingers tightening and loosening on your hips. Kneading the flesh under the robe you wore. The only piece of cloth that was hiding your body from him. Whereas he sat bare, shivering even in the heat of the bedchambers.
His eyes rolled back and he took a breath to try and steady himself. It didn't do much. He looked at you as if you were the very essence of his being.
"Please-" Zuko begged again, weakly trying for you to lay on him. To give him something. Anything.
You paused for a moment. He looked so beautiful like this. Flushed, covered in your marks, his chest rising and falling quickly.
"You're asking so nicely, My Lord-" You cooed at him.
The title made him laugh breathlessly. "Don't do that. Don't say it like that." He tried to scold you.
"Like what?" You pressed gentle kisses on his thighs.
"Like you're not my wife." He looked at you with hooded eyes.
You climbed up again, kissing the scar on his chest, then the corner of the scar on his face. He melted at that.
"Why am I being tormented tonight? Hm?" He asked sweetly, one hand coming to cup your face. You simply turned and kissed his wrist.
"Maybe because I like you this way." You hummed, kissing up his arm and making him turn over so you could kiss his back. He groaned but obliged.
"You are a cruel cruel woman." He sighed and looked at you over his shoulder. "Come on, my love. Just one."
You laughed and pulled away, shaking your head. "There's never just one with you-"
"I'll behave!" He offered, getting on his knees, ready to pounce you.
"I highly doubt that-" You pause, eyes dancing with mischief. "My Lor-"
The word was barely out of your mouth and he moved quick. A showcase of his prowess. You screamed a laugh as he tackled you, arms wrapping around you so skillfully that by the time you fell into the bed, your robe was undone and open.
You squealed and tried to push him away but it was all for nought.
"Finally-" He chuckled, "My vixen of a wife-" He smiled, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his knees on either side of your hips, and his other hand, caressing your cheek. "What am I to do with you, hm?"
"I swear I'm innocent." You pouted with a giggle.
"Well- That's for the Fire Lord to decide-" He grinned and dipped his head, finally kissing you after hours of your torture.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU
Summary: Modern AU, friends to lovers, it’s very distracting when a Bridgerton becomes a triathlete…
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, exhibitionism, masturbation, oral sex (m to f), smidge of intercrural sex, vaginal sex. Lots of Benedict skin in a tiny towel, yes that needs a warning label.
Word Count: 6.3k (oops)
Authors note: This is a birthday request fill for @chaoticcalzoneranchsports. Request in essence is a Modern AU Benedict entering a triathlon and becoming a total menace to reader’s hormones lol. I hope you enjoy this wonderful human, sorry it’s a little late <3. FYI, this might be the most teasing modern Ben ever invented and all responsibility for this fall squarely on them not me hahah. This could be the first in a TRI-logy of triathlon Ben fics. Oh and there is a recurring theme of 3s (and multiples of) in this fic, TRIathlon etc., cos I think I’m so clever. (I’m not.). Thanks as always to my beta @makaylan :)
“A triathlon?” Your laugh is interrupted by a hiccup, “are you serious?”
“Yes,” he throws his hands up to emphasise his point and knocks over his beer, “…whoops.” The delayed, muted reaction to the spill all over his jeans tells you everything about how inebriated he also is.
“Gonna need better coordination than that, especially on the bike part,” you quip, patting his shoulder, part in sympathy, part to steady yourself before wandering to get a towel from the barman. Luckily this is your local; they’ll take pity on you and your drunken friend.
-30 minutes later-
“Ssss fa charityyy,” he slurs as you wander down the street half an hour later.
“What is?” You’re currently staring at a weird-looking patch on your coat. What is that? Beer? Dammit Ben
“Triathlon,” he says emphatically, looking at you, disbelieving that you aren’t following his apparent internal monologue.
“Lovely,” you answer, distracted.
“Be more supportive,” he whines and grabs your shoulders shaking you gently, “I’ve only got six months to get into shape,” he says, miming pumping some iron.
“Fine. I’ll sponsor you, hmm, three hundred million pounds,” you reply, kicking a stray kebab shop chip into the gutter.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he challenges, “better empty all those offshore accounts.”
“Naaah, I keep that kind of chump change in my knickers drawer,” you counter with a giggle.
“Well, I know where I’m looking next time we need money for pizza,” he cackles triumphantly.
“Keep your hands out of my knickers,” you protest, only realising how it sounds after it’s been spoken.
He raises an eyebrow at that, but in his drunken state, it’s more Donkey from Shrek than James Bond.
You just shrug. What does he want with your knickers anyway?
-6 weeks later-
“What are you doing?”
“Shopping online,” he says idly, looking up from his phone as you hand him the carton of popcorn and take your seat next to him, “need new clothes.”
“I haven’t seen you in a new item of clothing in more than two years, Ben. Why change the habit of a lifetime?”
“They don’t fit anymore,” he shrugs, “need some new t-shirts.”
You just frown; it doesn’t look like he’s put on weight lately. Difficult to tell in winter, with all the layers. If anything, his jawline is even more defined recently than before, definitely growing into his looks.
“Switch that off,” you grouse, waving at his phone, “the film is starting.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Luckily, I can have this on my eating regime,” he happily stuffs a large handful into his mouth, shooting you a goofy popcorn-filled grin.
Eating regime?
-3 weeks later-
“What is that noise?” You frown into your phone, putting down your buttering knife.
“Oh, it’s the music, I guess,” he responds, sounding a little winded.
“Wait… where are you?”
“The gym.”
You snort. “C'mon, seriously, it’s Saturday morning. Don’t lie; you just haven’t made it home yet from a night out, right?” You take a bite of your breakfast.
“No,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “I’m at the gym.”
“Wait… really?” You have to brush away the toast crumbs you spit out onto your pyjamas at that one.
“Yeah,” you can hear the confusion in his voice, “did you forget? Triathlon? You’re sponsoring me the GDP of a small nation, remember?”
“Hah,” you exhale, “really didn’t think that would stick.”
“Well, it is, I mean, I hate it here, but it is,” you can hear his breathing is a little heavy, making your stomach feel funny, being right in your ear like that. “So what did you want?”
“Hmmm,” you respond, distracted by his low voice.
“…You called me?” He prompts.
“Ohhh… was just curious if you want to hang out later. Pizza and a movie?”
“Yes, to a movie. Sadly, no to pizza. Despite the promise of raiding your knickers.” He gusts a laugh.
Your gasp is audible. “What?”
“You…. You, joked that night? Remember? Keeping your money in your knickers drawer?” He sounds embarrassed.
“Oh yeah, sorry… too early for me,” you attempt to laugh it off. “I’m sorry, but what are you actually doing? Cos, you sound in pain, frankly.”
“Bike. I’m on kilometre 33” he sounds proud; bless him. To be fair, that’s quite an achievement for 9 am.
“Wow,” you look at your cup of tea and plate of toast and feel very lazy, “Well, see you later? 6ish?”
“I’ll be there,” he pants.
You have to hang up. That breathing and his slightly gravelly voice when he kept saying knickers is a bit too much.
-3 weeks later-
You’re out at a Thai restaurant, and he’s eating the spiciest soup ever, based on the sweat beading on his brow, at least.
“Why the hell did you order it at level 3?” you question, “you know that’s crazy hot.”
“Spice is good,” he counters, “revs up the metabolism.”
“You look like you’re suffering.”
“All for a good cause,” he shrugs, “but might need to take off the woolly jumper.”
You curl some pad Thai noodles onto your fork and idly watch him fight off his thick fuzzy top.
Oh.
Underneath, he’s wearing a white t-shirt. You are taken aback by how filled it looks. And his arms? Why is there so much definition? You find yourself staring without even realising it. He wasn’t kidding about those gym visits—clearly.
A noodle unceremoniously plops back into your plate, splattering tamarind sauce onto your jumper and hand.
“Shit!” you busy yourself attempting to remove the stain with your paper napkin but glance up to see him looking at you with a smirk on his face. “What?” Your voice is a touch defensive.
“Nothing,” he singsongs, “just didn’t think you that type, you know?”
“What type?” You’re not looking at him again, pawing at the sweater, hoping it won’t stain.
“A perv,” he breezes
“Excuse me?!?” Your head shoots up.
“You heard me,” he answers, “you have no leg to stand on. You literally dropped your dinner staring at my body.”
You squirm in discomfort, “I was simply taken aback, that's all,” again too defensive. “Gym seems to be paying off,” you add, aiming for nonchalant.
“Based on your reaction? Yes, I’d say so,” he chuckles.
“Eat your bloody fire soup, Popeye,” you grouse, knowing your cheeks are blushing; he just laughs louder.
-6 weeks later-
You walk down his street peeling off your jacket; so glad Spring weather is finally here. He said to come over at 7 pm for film time. You’re a little early; the bus was on time for once. It’s only 6:30 pm, but you figure he won’t mind, especially as you’re clutching a bottle of his favourite wine.
His building door is wedged open by someone moving their stuff out, so you just skip in and take the lift to his floor. He won’t mind you just knocking on his front door; you’ve been friends for so long and visit each other so much that you really should just exchange keys.
You knock casually on the door, checking your hair quickly in the gleaming ‘603’ of his door plate.
There’s a longish delay, then a “Who is it?” His voice sounds far from the door.
“Who do you think, Sherlock?” you laugh back.
“You’re early.” He says, a little harried-sounding.
“Let me in,” you grumble.
“Fine, but beware.” That sounds like a strangely ominous warning.
Then the door sweeps open. And you forget quite how to breathe.
The first thing you notice—acres of toned skin. Dripping wet. You've obviously interrupted his shower. A towel is slung low on his hips, a little trail of glistening hair from his belly button (god, it was made for a tongue) down into the towel. Otherwise not much body hair, just lean muscles everywhere. A quiet ridiculous iliac furrow and flat washboard stomach sweeping up to a surprisingly well-toned chest. Not huge pecs but lean, toned. Broad, muscular shoulders. Exactly how a triathlete would look. As your eyes sweep down again, there’s an outline of something against the towel you definitely shouldn’t be looking at.
“Why not just take a photo? It will last longer,” he teases quietly, with a raised eyebrow.
“Bloody hell Ben,” is all you can say, finally looking at his face.
“Better come inside. Can’t have you glitching in the corridor.”
He steps aside with a smirk and gestures you in. You walk almost on autopilot, silently handing him the wine as you pass and catching a whiff of delightful woodsy clean shower gel as he closes the door behind you.
“I can’t be drinking at the moment, but thank you,” he says quietly, placing the wine on the hallway table.
“I’m sorry I’m early,” you find your voice, “I should have buzzed, but the door was wedged open downstairs, so I just came up.” You know you are rambling slightly, not quite wanting to look at him again.
He smirks as you go to sit in his living room still on autopilot, and he follows, leaning in the doorway to his spare room opposite you, a pull-up bar above his head.
“Please, go finish your shower, get dressed,” you encourage, taking off your shoes as you usually do when you get comfy on his sofa.
“Oh, I’m done,” he assures. “Just didn’t get around to drying yet, but that’s ok. I can air dry, always nice after I get back from the gym,” he says drolly and reaches up to loop an arm around the pull-up bar, the other hip dropping slightly. He’s deliberately showing off now, goading, teasing you. “Sometimes I don’t even bother to get dressed again, just go to bed naked; feels good after a workout.”
Well, that's a thought your traitorous brain didn't need. Your mind is a jumble of inappropriate thoughts of him naked as you watch his torso as he gestures, fascinated by the movements, the play of supple damp skin over lean muscle. Wondering what it would feel like under your fingertips, your lips, or your skin as he presses you into the mattress. The last lingering thoughts seem to coalesce into the strange question of contemplating what he might do if you walked over and ran your tongue over him right now.
“...Y/n?…” he’s looking at you expectantly.
It’s patently obvious he has asked you a question, and you have utterly zoned out, your focus purely on his body and what you want to do to it, to him.
“Did you hear a word I said?” He asks teasingly.
“Sorry, I…” you feel embarrassed.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long since you last had sex?” he smirks.
You inhale sharply. “That’s none of your business.”
“One, you are my friend; you can tell me.” A finger around the pull-up bar extends out as he counts the reasons with his fingers. “Two, you are looking at me like a hungry man looks at a triple-stacked burger.” Another finger. “And three, I can help with that,” he shrugs as the third finger unfurls.
Your eyes fly to his face, lips parting in shock. Did he just… proposition you?
“So I ask again… how long?” His voice is pitched low, the feel of it almost buzzing around your ribcage even at a distance.
“Six months,” you exhale, looking down at the ground, your mind flashing back to your last drunken awful one-night stand.
“My god,” he sounds genuinely shocked.
“I know,” you lament, still staring at the wooden floor, “I swore off one-night stands after one too many disappointments, and I haven’t met anyone since, so…” it’s your turn to shrug as your sentence trails off.
“Stand up.” His voice takes on a tone you’ve never heard before, and you’re on your feet before you quite register what’s happened.
Feeling nervous, you start rambling, “I suppose I should be more active in the dating apps, maybe? But I just find them so artificial, and honestly, I’d prefer a random bar meeting than this weird swipe-right culture. I feel like a dating dinosaur for saying that, but….”
“Y/n,” his timbre is velvety.
“Yes,” your response is soft, almost silent.
“Shut up.”
He prowls over to you with a look in his eye you have never seen before; it’s dangerous. Is this what Ben is like to all the people he sleeps with, you wonder? It’s very different from the friend you know and, yes, love. Platonically. Or at least you think it’s just that. Right now, you are honestly not sure.
He stops in front of you, his eyes glittering. “I’ve thought about you,” his voice is silky, pitched low. “What it might be like to cross that invisible line, to give in to temptation.”
Your breath is uneven now, your pulse speeding up as your good friend messes with every sense in your body. His smell is intoxicating; you can feel the shower warmth radiating off him. You daren't meet his gaze; he is too close. You keep your eyes cast down slightly, staring at the constellation of tempting freckles smattered across his breastbone.
“Look at me,” he orders quietly, two fingers curling under your chin and pushing your face up to look at his. Fuck, he is devastatingly handsome, so close-up. All cheekbones and hazy eyes. Rivulets of water from his freshly washed curls running down his neck, pooling above his clavicle and in his suprasternal notch. Your tongue almost feels heavy. Desperate to track the journey of those droplets.
“I can’t even see the colour of your eyes anymore,” he rumbles, “your pupils are blown so wide.” He moves the fingers from your chin, trailing them up to run over your lips. “Your lips look almost wine-stained, so flushed. God y/n, you look devastating when you’re aroused.”
You are shocked you are still standing. Who does this? Many men would just have stuck their tongue into your mouth by now. Not this tease; he is determined to ruin you. Slowly. He drops the hand from your face, but your knees feel strangely jelly-like as he leans his whole body closer, ghosting a breath over your cheek.
“No perfume today, hmm,” he murmurs, “just you and your tempting smell. You have no idea how good you smell without it, just a touch of body wash and a lot of,” he takes a deep inhale, “...you.”
How can one syllable be so devastating?
“Ben,” a single word escapes your lips.
“What?” The ‘t’ is a staccato against the shell of your ear.
“What’s happening here?” Your whisper is a little desperate.
“Whatever you want to happen,” he replies, his voice right against your cheek, “six months is too long for anyone, but especially someone as special as you.” He opines, and a single finger draws a line down the skin of your sternum to the first button of your shirt. “I’m counting to three; then I’m undoing this button,” he murmurs. “You have until then to get away from me, and we can just pretend this never happened.”
“One….” You inhale and stay very still.
“Two…” The tension is palpable as you pull back slightly and meet his molten gaze.
“Three…” His deft fingers flick open the button as his lips hover over yours but never touch.
This is the Benedict Bridgerton you’ve heard rumours about, the one you’ve listened to women whispering about in the bathroom at parties that you could never quite fathom or reconcile to the goofy friend you’ve always known. It’s like he’s hidden a part of himself from you and only now is revealing it—this devilish, devastating seducer.
“Ben,” you stutter, feeling the warmth of his fingertips trace gently over your skin to the following button, feeling his breath on your lips.
“Yes?” you feel the word as much as you hear it.
“Kiss me,” he has you begging.
His lips finally capture yours, but it is still just a tease. Surging forward, then pulling back, goading you with just a glimpse of opened lips, a peek of what his tongue is offering. He wants you to take from him; you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
As his fingers find the next shirt button, you throw your arms around his neck and dive in. Trapping his hand between your bodies. The dewy, dampness of his showered skin seeps into your cotton shirt as you press against him and run your tongue into his mouth, grabbing a fist full of his hair and growling slightly into him.
“Oh, there it is,” he teases into your open mouth, “the wild thing hiding under this witty, intelligent exterior. I just knew it.”
His touch of arrogance should be off-putting, but he’s being so complimentary with it, it’s just plain hot. You make a desperate noise in the back of your throat and smash his lips back to yours, this time goading him to plunder your mouth. Another button pops undone under his fingers as you surge against him, feeling something hot and insistent pressing through the thin towel and the waistband of your jeans.
He is down to the last button now. He flicks it loose and then tugs the shirt down over your shoulders but doesn’t pull it off completely, just leaves it there, trapping your arms in the sleeves taunt, slightly behind you.
He moves to run his nose over your cheek, “I know all your secrets. I’ve watched you so closely over the years. What makes you bite your lip, squirm in your seat.” His lips tease against your jaw as he keeps talking. “I’ve seen your gaze linger on people making out. You couldn’t look away from that couple fucking in the Barbican stairwell.” His mouth is on your neck now, a hot slide of kisses. “I’ll never forget the look on your face. I could tell how much you craved it. It took all my strength not to throw you against the wall and take you right then. But no, I chose to remember it. So that one day I could tell you what I know for certain. You love to watch and be watched, don’t you?” His voice should be illegal.
You breathe heavily, slightly ashamed he can read you like a book, as he holds you steady, arms still ensnared.
“I’ll fuck you against the window,” his tone sinful against your ear, “that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? To have the whole neighbourhood watch you.”
You don’t have to say anything; he knows the answer from your reaction. Your body quivers as he yanks the shirt off, tosses it away, and then takes a step back. The obvious tent under his towel makes you bite your lip hard. He looks like the definition of sin.
“Come with me.” He pulls you by the hands, walking backwards, and you follow, your eyes on him the entire time. Nipples pebbled hard, and underwear flooded. He stops before his floor-to-ceiling window and whirls around, crowding into your back.
“Take. It. Off.” Each word is a sentence.
“What?” You don’t even hide the panting in your voice.
“Everything,” he exhales, “every last stitch you are wearing. Strip right here.”
Your hands move to your jeans as you shakily exhale and unzip. You are so relieved you wore matching lingerie today. Perhaps subconsciously, you did so on the off chance of this outcome. Large hands land on your hips and assist the push of denim until it hits the floor, and you flick it away with your foot. You are just in underwear now.
His hands sweep over your torso, the slight callouses he has developed from the bike snagging on your skin as he nuzzles your cheek. His lips find yours in another heady, passionate kiss. As your tongues dance, his hands cup both breasts. He teases your nipples with swipes of his thumb over your bra.
Longing to feel those fingers on your flesh, you push each bra strap down until they hang loose.
“Unhook me,” you whisper and a hand trails around and plucks open the clasp effortlessly.
You peel away the bra and throw it aside, feeling his heated gaze slide down your skin over your shoulder.
“So perfect,” he whispers; his fingertips are so warm and teasing on your nipples.
You moan and curve your chest out, chasing his touch, causing your bum to push back against his cock.
“Look at you,” he growls, “look at yourself in the window.”
You gaze forward, and in the reflection, you see a wanton tableau of your breasts trapped in his large hands, his body pressed against yours from behind.
“Fuck, Ben,” you whisper and stare, hypnotised as you slowly undulate your hips. Watching your body move sinfully against his as he groans.
“Yesss,” he hisses in encouragement, pushing against you, just his towel and your underwear separating your bodies as you move slowly in unison.
“I believe I told you to take everything off,” he rasps, grabbing your hips and running fingers over your underwear.
“You do it,” you murmur back challengingly.
“Oh, that's how you want to play, is it?” His voice is low and dangerous. “Fine”. He walks you forward. “Put your hands on the window,” he commands.
You do so; the cold of the glass contrasts with the heat of his hands on your body. A thrill runs down your spine at the thought of someone in the surrounding windows, maybe a few people, watching this happen.
Ben’s hands hook into the fabric at your hips, and he inches the material lower as he leans over your back. Warm lips press against your upper spine between your shoulder blades, and you groan as he runs his tongue down your back as his hands push the underwear down your legs. He’s crouching behind you now as he kisses the swell of your bottom, his hands throwing aside your underwear.
“Open your legs wider,” he orders softly, and you stutter a breath, feeling one of his hands sweep up your inside leg and quests against your mound. You gasp his name. He chuckles richly and finds your clit, nudging it lightly with a fingertip, making you cry out and clench down.
“You have no idea how much you’ve driven me crazy over the years, do you?” he groans, his mouth open against your butt cheek, lightly grazing your skin with his teeth, fingers teasing in little circles. “Being my wonderful sweet friend when all I’ve ever felt is guilt about what I truly wanted. To bury myself between your legs,” he inhales lewdly. “Your bewitching smell drives me insane. Jesus Christ, y/n, you have no idea how many times I've taken myself in hand after spending time with you, desperate for you. How long I’ve waited for you to see me the way I see you.”
You crest a moan, unbidden, incapable of words, as he soliloquises his adoration for you in filthy precise detail. You had no idea this is how he feels; the thought he has come multiple times fantasising about you is something you can't comprehend, but you want to hear about it. You want him to tell you in precise detail about every time he has fucked his hand and thought about you.
“Tell me about it,” you blurt out before you can censor it.
“What?” he teases, his fingers circling your clit slowly, his lips kissing across to your other cheek.
“Touching yourself,” you squeak timidly, knowing you are blushing.
He stands up suddenly and spins you around to face him, the glass cool against your shoulder blades as he shoots you a molten look.
“Why don't I show you?” he whispers, and your eyes fall to the towel as it drops away under a flick of his hand.
Oh, Ben.
Nestled in a neat patch of trimmed hair is the nicest cock you've seen in a long time. Not so big as to be scary, but just delicious looking, more than a handful, and you are suddenly so utterly mindless for him to fuck you. Instead, he takes his cock in hand and leans close to you, not touching but millimetres apart. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that makes your breath hitch as his hand begins to move up and down, squeezing his shaft; a little bead appears at the head that your tongue longs to taste.
“Y/n,” he moans, his voice so resonant it vibrates through your very being, settling into a pulse between your legs as you feel a trickle of moisture escape and run down your skin.
“Ben,” you stutter.
“Y/n,” he repeats, moving his hand faster, his gaze piercing yours.
You rub your slick thighs together and bite your lip, hands flexing against the glass, nervous to touch him and break this heady spell.
“Please…” you plead quietly, “please fuck me.”
“God, I love it when you beg,” he groans and releases his cock, grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head, your watch tinking against the glass as his fingers sink between yours and he leans his whole body against you. The head of his cock slides hot against your belly button.
“Please,” you repeat as he thrusts slowly against your body.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, “I want you so mindless for me that you are shaking.”
No one has ever teased you like this. It's maddening.
“Now, where was I, hmm?” his voice a light teasing thing as he sinks to his knees right in front of you, still holding your hands, placing them on his head before pulling your left leg over his shoulder. “I think I was just about to…” he stops mid-sentence and buries his face between your legs, the stubble on his jaw rasps against your inner thighs as his tongue delves into you, his nose bumping your clit.
He growls right into your cunt as you cry out, and your hands flex on instinct, pulling on his hair, nails scraping his scalp.
“Watch me,” he orders, and you make searing eye contact as he moves to suck hard against your clit, tongue rolling in surging waves, making your knees want to buckle. He senses it and grabs your hips, pushing you back against the glass.
You keep your eyes on him, but your thoughts flit to whether someone is out there amongst all those other windows watching this. Him on his knees, face embedded between your legs, as you lean your back against the glass but thrust your hips forward, gyrating and riding his tongue. Making the neediest sounds, chasing your high with no thought to anything but this and now and oh god, yes. He is relentless, thorough and certainly the most enthusiastic you've had in ages, possibly ever. Talking filth right against your sodden flesh - about how good you taste, how much he has dreamed about this, how he can’t get enough and pleading with you to give him more noises and cries and everything. Lashing you with his tongue. But it’s when he moves a hand, slides two fingers inside you, and instantly finds your weak spot that you scream his name.
“There it is,” he grunts and pushes you quickly towards the edge; no one has been quite this dedicated to ensuring you come intensely. Your legs start to shake, and he has to bear some of your weight on his shoulder as you lose coordination, the invisible string holding your body tight snapping, your nerve endings on fire, your vision whiting out, yelling and crying and convulsing against him. You breathe in heavy, sharp inhales as he gently kisses your folds and holds you up. The cooling glass is a wonderful balm against your heated flesh.
“Holy fuck Ben,” you exhale shakily as you finally find your voice.
“How do you feel?” he gloats quietly, tenderly placing your foot back on the ground with a quick squeeze of your ankle and a kiss on your knee.
“Shaky and amazing,” you answer honestly, closing your eyes and swallowing hard.
“Good,” is the silky reply as he gets to his feet in one swift motion and leans into you again, his cock searing against the dewy skin of your belly, and he grabs your face. “Now, where would you like me to fuck you? I can do it anywhere you want. You want right here? The table? The couch? The bed?” As he lists each spot, he softly kisses your cheeks, ears, forehead, and even lightly on your eyelids.
“All of them,” you exhale.
“I’m not sure I have quite that much stamina,” he chuckles “you are so very…” he presses hard against you, his cock trailing moisture onto your skin as you gasp “...intoxicating.”
“I don't mean tonight, Ben,” then you get a sudden swooping feeling in your gut at your assumptions. “Wait, is this just a one-night thing?” your voice wavering, failing at the neutrality you hoped for.
“I just told you I have come fantasising about you for five years, and you think I'm letting you go after one night?” he gusts a laugh, fingers tracing delicately over your lips and cheeks.
“Five years?” you twist your mouth into a little playful pout, your confidence surging at his reply.
“Yes, you little tease,” he smiles, that crooked smile that always gives you butterflies. “Now answer the damn question before I go get a damn condom.”
You make a show of looking over his shoulder as if assessing your options, and he chuckles again, stooping his hips a little and sliding his cock between your thighs instead.
“Ohhhh,” you stutter, eyes fluttering closed and hands flexing against his back.
He thrusts lightly between your thighs, and on instinct, you close your legs a little, giving him more friction, the movement easy from your skin still soaked from the orgasm he gave you.
“You don't need to get a condom Ben,” you say quietly, “I trust you are clean, and I'm protected.”
He stills his movement and cups your face tenderly, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you nod, then smile with a flirtatious edge and move to whisper against his ear, “I want to feel all of you.” He makes a noise that has you buck against him, sliding his cock between your thighs again. The motion glances again at your clit, and you raggedly inhale. Oh god, you could just do this all night.
“C'mon y/n,” he teases, rocking gently, “pick somewhere before I just slide right into you here.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors the expression.
“Oh, you asked for this,” he gloats and stuns you by picking you up, wrapping your legs over his slim waist and sliding right into you, pulling you down onto his cock in one visceral, swift, plunging motion.
“Fuckkkkkkkkkkkk…..” you cry out, breath stolen, feeling so very invaded in the best possible sense. His cock holding you open, a sold hot weight deep inside.
Oh, god, yes. This.
He holds still for so long that you pull his face from its spot, buried in your neck and nudge him to meet your gaze.
“Ben, are you ok?”
“More than ok,” his voice is rough. “You feel amazing; I… I need a moment before I can move; it’s been a long time since I was skin on skin, and well, it's you….” he admits, his tone is reverential.
You smile and kiss him on the forehead, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat.
He pulls back slightly, his lips find yours as he surges back in, and he swallows the noise you make. Slowly he builds a pace, and you close your eyes, tilting your head towards the ceiling, concentrating on the sensation of him dragging against your walls, pushing you open with each move, the stretch so enthralling.
Oh god, we should have been doing THIS for the last five years, you think indulgently to yourself.
“I agree,” he murmurs, his mouth hooked over your chin.
“Shit, I didn't realise I said that out loud,” you admit sheepishly, tipping down to meet his gaze.
He gusts a laugh and spears into you a little rougher than before, your soft cry catching against his stubbly cheek.
“I think I see someone watching us,” his voice suddenly dangerous and velvet, hot against your ear.
You inhale sharply and clench around him at the illicit, electric thrill that runs through your body.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Tell me about what you see?” your voice is thready, somehow the thrill heightened by knowing you are totally at his mercy, legs around him, back against the glass.
“I think it's a couple,” his voice is gravelly. “At first, it was just a woman I saw a glance of; now there’s a man too.”
You moan and bear down onto him harder the thought you have an audience of this debauched tableau. You move an arm to wrap around his shoulder and pitch forward to bite his neck.
“Fuck y/n,” he exclaims, pulsing deep inside you.
“Tell me more, Ben, please,” you take his earlobe between your teeth, pulling it taut as he thrusts into you.
“Oh god, they are…. they are kissing,” he moans, his breathing becoming a little more ragged.
You clench hard again, and he growls long and low, pulling his face back to rest his forehead against yours.
“We did that,” he sounds feral. “We fuck so good we make others want to do it too.”
“Yessss,” you writhe on him, “fuck me hard, Ben, make them jealous, make them all watch as you ruin me.”
“Keep talking to me,” he pleads and hitches your legs onto his arms, pressing you higher on the glass, pounding into you now, his pubic bone surging against your clit with every stroke.
“Yes, Ben, make me come again, please; I want them to see me impaled on your cock, screaming your name,” the filth tumbling from your lips unfiltered as he spirals you higher.
“Oh god, yes,” his voice stutters as he thrusts hard. “Please do it; I've come so many times wanting to hear you scream my name, fingernails scratching my back, your cunt convulsing hard around me; god, please come for me again, please.”
His words and pleading and harsh movements is just the cocktail you need to push you over the precipice. Body going completely stiff, legs battling against his hold, so you scramble against the glass, smearing sweat and fluids as you fight the convulsions. Screaming his name, uncaring of his ears, the neighbours, anything but the feel of the snapping, blinding sensation and waves of bliss pulsing out of your core across your whole body. A static hum in the base of your skull at the release of every fibre of your being. You barely register the words and noises he makes as you feel his whole body stiffen, his mouth hooked on your shoulder, curled against you, as he holds you speared deep as you feel him coming powerfully inside you, a blooming warmth coating your insides.
“Fuck,” you pant in unison. Which makes you both giggle, faces pressed together, a light and intangible moment shared, as he lowers you slowly to your feet, his lips finding yours in a chaste kiss.
You keep your arms snaked around his neck and lean your head on his shoulder, listening to his thundering heartbeat, the shaking in your legs subsiding slightly.
“I can’t believe you held me up for that long,” you smile.
“Made every hellish gym visit worth it,” he returns, laughing gently,
“Oh yes, the triathlon. When is it?” You sway gently in his arms, enjoying the easy intimacy you have.
“In about six more weeks,” he calculates, kissing your temple and slowly turning you both around, so his back is to the glass.
“Can I help with any training? I’m not a bad swimmer, you know,” you offer with a shrug.
His eyes glitter as he leans his forehead against yours, walking you back towards his bedroom. “I have to be in the pool first thing tomorrow; I would be delighted to have you join me.”
“I don't have a swimming costume with me,” you pout.
“I’d be happy for you to skinny dip,” his eyebrow shooting up in a way that makes your stomach somersault.
“I’ll do it if you do it,” you tease.
“Hmm, tempting y/n, but I doubt we would get any actual training done,” he says pointedly.
“Fair,” you concur, squinting comedically, and he chuckles as he backs you into his bedroom.
“Are we going for round two already, Mr Bridgerton?” Your tone is coquettish.
“Hmmm, I’m not Superman,” he replies playfully. “But I am now in need of another shower, so I thought perhaps we could do that together and then let’s see, it's still early after all.”
He spins you around and walks you forward into his ensuite bathroom, wrapping his arms around you tight from behind and kissing a line down your neck. He only breaks away to flick on the shower, then leans back against his sink cabinet, pulling you into his arms as you await the warm water.
You glance over, and you spy a pair of tiny black Speedos on a towel rail.
“Is this what you wear in the pool?” You ask, snagging them between your fingers and twirling them around.
“Of course. Why?” his voice laced with intrigue.
“Fuck it; I’ll borrow a costume if I have to. You in these? That I have to see.”
He laughs.
“It’s an early start. 6 am.” His lips warm on your shoulder. “I was just going to leave you sleeping in my bed then return to ravish you at a more decent hour, perhaps with some coffee and a croissant for you?”
“I changed my mind. Fuck yes, that please,” you declare. “But I will need you to model the Speedos for me at some point, Ben,” you warn with mock sincerity.
“Duly noted,” he chuckles and pulls you under the warm spray of water.
summary: you take care of a drunken Zuko only for him to make a startling confession
You’re just about to apply a soothing mud mask to start off a relaxing evening alone when a harsh pounding at the door has you freezing in your tracks. You set the bowl aside with an annoyed huff at the disturbance as you quickly throw on your robe. You weren’t exactly expecting company, and you had been looking forward to a peaceful night to yourself after a long day at the beach.
You’re staying at Zuko’s beach house on Ember Island for a summer getaway with your friends, and you’ve enjoyed being able to catch up on each other’s lives and reminiscence on the days of your adolescence. Though you appreciate spending time with the group after being apart for so long you felt you needed space to recharge, so you declined their invitations to go out for the night and chose to stay home. Suki, Katara, and Aang were out enjoying a night swim while Sokka, Toph, and Zuko decided to explore the city. You didn’t expect anyone to be home for hours which is why you’re surprised to hear someone at the door.
Holding your robe closed with one hand as you open the door with the other, you prepare to scold the trespasser only to be met with the sight of a barely coherent Zuko propped upright between Sokka and Toph. The water tribe boy’s features are apologetic as he allows the Fire Lord to lean against him for balance, though Toph appears completely unbothered by the situation.
“Look, buddy, we’re back at the beach house,” Sokka tells him with a careful nudge, prompting Zuko to lift his head in confusion. Though clearly inebriated, he manages to make out your figure in the doorway and immediately lights up excitement.
“You found y/n!” He cheers, nearly toppling over as he tries to reach for you. Thankfully, Sokka and Toph manage to catch him before he falls flat on his face.
“Hi, Zuko,” you coo with a sympathetic smile that immediately fades as you turn your reproachful stare towards Sokka. “What did you do?”
“Nothing illegal,” Toph answers in their defense only to receive a glare from her accomplice.
“He had a bit too much to drink at the tavern, and he kept insisting on coming to see you.”
You don’t give an immediate reply, instead choosing to mull over his words as you look from him to Zuko. You realize then that you’ve never actually seen him drunk before. As Fire Lord he took great pride in keeping his composure and maintaining his image as a responsible leader, but being on vacation with your closest friends must have coaxed him into letting his guard down.
“Give him to me,” you finally respond with a resigned sigh, accepting the fact that your night of relaxation will have to be saved for another time. Sokka and Toph are careful as they maneuver Zuko into your hold, helping him drape his arm around your shoulders as you hold onto him by the waist.
“So uh, do you need any help? Because we were thinking of joining the rest of the group for that night swim—”
“Go,” you tell him with an amused roll of your eyes, “I’ve got it from here.”
You watch with a quiet laugh as he quickly bounds off towards the beach with Toph in tow, leaving you on your own to take care of Zuko. You manage to balance your combined weights on one foot as you use the other to shut the door. His head lulls to the side at your movements, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he struggles to keep his eyes open, and you try not to let this distract you from the task at hand.
“Alright, Zuko, I’m going to need your help getting you to your room,” you inform him softly, giving his waist a gentle squeeze to ensure he remains awake. “Can you do that for me?”
He hiccups, letting out a laugh before he responds, “I’d do anything for you, y/n— anything at all! You deserve nice things, and I-I can do those nice things. I’m really nice now.”
You try not to encourage his behavior, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his change in demeanor. It’s certainly a stark contrast to his normally broody personality, and you enjoy getting to see the more playful side of him shine through. Compared to your days as teenagers he’s definitely learned to lighten up, but he still tends to convey his humorous nature more sparsely in comparison to the rest of the group. You like to think he’s most comfortable sharing that side of himself with you, but you try not to dwell on the fact in order to avoid setting yourself up for disappointment.
You don’t remember when exactly you first realized you had a crush on Zuko or how your feelings had transitioned from platonic to romantic, but for years you’ve harbored your affection for him under the guise of friendship. There hadn’t been time for romance during the war, and when he became Fire Lord he resumed his relationship with Mai, thus effectively destroying any chance of you ending up together. Even though they’d been broken up for years now, you’d long since accepted that it was never going to happen, and you wouldn’t jeopardize your friendship over a silly childhood infatuation that was clearly unrequited, so you told absolutely no one and swore yourself to secrecy.
You manage to get Zuko into bed, though not without difficulty, and assist him in removing his shoes so he can lay comfortably on the mattress. Though he’s now in the perfect condition to sleep off the alcohol, he simply sits propped against the pillows with his hands resting upon his stomach as he watches you move about the room. You open his window to allow fresh air to waft through and bring a bucket to his bedside in case he grows nauseous. You do everything in your power to make him content in his drunken state, and this doesn’t go without notice.
“I’m going to get you some water,” you inform him quietly only for his hand to immediately shoot out and grab onto your wrist, effectively keeping you in place.
“Don’t go,” he nearly begs, the emotion in his voice catching you off guard. “I want— I need you here.”
“It’ll only take a second—“
“Later,” he insists with a dramatic shake of his head. “That’s not impor-important… Need you. I only need you.”
His words hit your stomach like a gut punch, your heart lurching in your chest and your face heating from the drunken tenderness of his request. He has no idea how much of an effect he has on you, and even in his inebriated state you catch yourself yearning for him to return your affection. Things could be so much easier for you if you simply told him how you felt, but your fear held you back. You firmly remind yourself that you’re just friends, and he’s only seeking the comfort of a companion to help him deal with the intoxication.
“Okay,” you finally relent through a trembling breath, thankful he’s in no state to pick up on your nervous tells as you seat yourself beside him on the mattress. His head immediately falls to rest upon your shoulder, and you allow yourself the privilege of wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you’ve done so many times before.
“Thank you,” he sighs in relief, allowing his eyes to shut in hopes of stopping the spinning sensation he’s felt since returning to the beach house.
You sit in a comfortable silence for some time, neither of you daring to speak as you enjoy the quiet period of rest. Your fingers find their way towards the back of his head, and you absently begin to rake through his long strands of hair in the way you know he likes. These stolen moments are what allow you to ease the longing ache in your chest every time you’re around him, and you’re grateful he’s never seemed to mind your displays of affection. You let him believe they’re platonic for his sake and for your own sanity. It’s better this way, you think.
“You smell good,” Zuko blurts suddenly, effectively rupturing the silence. “Did you know you smell good?”
An amused huff escapes your nose as you glance over at him. “I didn’t know that, but thank you.”
“You’re just so good… you’re a good person, and I want you to know that you’re a good person. The best person!”
“I think that’s the alcohol talking,” you jest playfully, causing him to shake his head vehemently in protest.
“It’s the truth talking,” he argues passionately despite slurring his words in the process. “You’re so nice and funny and pretty. You’re like… you’re the prettiest girl.”
“Zuko,” you gently try to interrupt. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel the blood rushing towards your ears as you try to stop his drunken rambling. You know he means well and can hardly comprehend what he’s saying right now, but you don’t think you can handle him spewing compliments at you when he doesn’t understand just how deeply it affects you.
“I wish you knew how much I like you,” he sighs, causing you to stiffen in place beside him. You don’t dare look at him or speak, simply holding your breath as you wait for him to continue. “You’re so good for me… I think about you even when you’re not around. I miss you all the time… do you know what that’s like?”
“Yeah,” you admit in quiet defeat, clearing your throat to ease the knot that had formed and pensively looking out towards the window. “Yeah, I do.”
You feel him relax against you, his steady breathing filling the air as he finally passes out from exhaustion. You let out a sigh as you carefully maneuver yourself out of bed and allow him to fall back against the mattress. You make sure to position him on his side and leave the bucket nearby before you set off to fetch him a pitcher of water.
You have no idea what to make of his drunken confession. He’d called you pretty, insisted that he needed you, even confessed to having feelings for you, but did it really mean anything? You don’t want to trust the words of an inebriated man, but you can’t deny the nervous fluttering in your stomach as you replay the moment over again in your mind. You so desperately want him to return your affection, but you know by morning he’ll have no recollection of your conversation and everything will return to normal. You can do nothing but settle into your own room and hope you can avoid ever having to talk about this night.
You manage to get some sleep in spite of your inability to quell your racing thoughts, and when morning arrives you make no mention of the conversation that had occurred when your friends ask about last night. They inform you they’re going to the local marketplace in search of groceries for breakfast, and you volunteer to stay behind to keep an eye on Zuko. You two have always been close, so no one suspects anything of your offer as they bid you goodbye and assure you of a quick return.
You enjoy the silence of the morning as you sip your tea and watch the waves crash on the shore from the window. A soft thud breaks you from your contemplative state, and you glance towards Zuko’s bedroom where a groan drifts through the sliding doors.
“Y/n…?” He calls hoarsely, and you wince at the sound of dry heaving that follows. Setting your cup aside, you quickly make your way into his room and find him hunched over the bucket you left behind. Rushing to his side, you help him pull the hair from his face and fashion it into a loose bun with your own hair tie.
“I’m here,” you assure him with a careful smile as you rub soothing circles into his back. You try not to pay too close attention to the feel of his muscles beneath your palm or the fact that he’d managed to remove his shirt in the night.
“I feel horrible,” he complains with a groan as he leans back against the bed frame. “Never let me go drinking with Toph ever again.”
“You found that out the hard way, huh?” You tease him with a gentle laugh as you reach for the pitcher of water and pass it into his grasp. “Drink water, you’ll feel better.”
You watch him begin to take greedy gulps from the pitcher, droplets of water dribbling past his chin and down the expanse of his chest. You look away flustered and silently curse the spirits for putting you in such a precarious situation. Every time you think you have your feelings under control Zuko unknowingly finds a way to push you over the edge.
“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble last night,” he apologizes after drinking the last of the water. “I made such a fool of myself.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too much. I mean, you definitely were nowhere near as bad as Sokka on cactus juice,” you humor him with a giggle, earning a wry smile from the Fire Lord in return.
“That makes me feel a little better,” he admits softly, carefully wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before allowing his head to fall against the edge of the mattress. “Spirits…”
“What is it?”
You tilt your head curiously when his features turn solemn. His eyes shut close as he releases a slow breath, and after a beat passes he allows them to open so he may turn to face you. His golden irises shine with an emotion you’ve never seen him convey before, and it has your breath catching in your throat as you struggle to maintain eye contact.
“I know what I said last night,” he professes timidly, causing your heart to nearly leap out of your chest with anguish. Your face starts to burn and you want nothing more than to find a way out of this conversation, but with the rest of the group gone you know there’s no chance at escape.
“Oh… right. That,” you breathe shakily. Your gaze trails to the floor as you prepare yourself for the inevitable rejection. If you can survive a lightning strike from Azula, then you can survive Zuko taking back everything he’d side while drunk. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself. “Listen, it’s not a big deal-“
“It is to me,” he interrupts you with a faint frown. You startle when his fingertips touch the skin of your cheek and gently guide your face back towards him. You hope he can’t feel how warm to the touch you are or hear the rapid beating of your heart. “I’d never want to put our friendship in jeopardy or make you uncomfortable.”
“Zuko, it’s fine-“ you try to interrupt only for him to grow frustrated.
“No, y/n, you need to hear what I have to say,” he demands firmly, and finally you fall quiet. He sighs, not meaning to snap at you but desperate to get the words out. “I… I meant what I said.”
“What?”
A faint blush dusts his face as he nervously grasps the back of his neck and offers you a meek smile. “I know I wasn’t exactly myself last night, and though I wish I could have conveyed my thoughts when I was in a better state of mind, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t telling the truth.”
“So you…. You do like me?” you murmur softly, your stomach fluttering with nerves as you try to process his confession. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, and a part of you thinks you must be dreaming, but the feel of his hand reaching for your own proves otherwise.
“I have for a while now,” he assures you sheepishly, “I guess I just needed some liquid courage to tell you. This doesn’t have to change anything between us if you don’t want it to, and I understand if you don’t feel the same-“
“I like you too,” you interrupt, wincing with embarrassment at your abruptness. He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s the reassurance you need to continue. “I never wanted to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same, but then you called me pretty and I kind of lost any sense of rational thinking…”
“You are pretty,” he affirms with a tender smile, taking your hand in his own and lifting your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to take you to dinner tonight so I may ask to court you the right way.”
“I’d love nothing more,” you nearly swoon, enjoying the feel of his lips against your skin and the satisfaction that comes from knowing the boy you’ve loved since childhood returns your affections.
"Zuko?" You call into the quietness of a late night. "Zuko? ZuZu?" There’s a brief pause. "Sifu Hotman?"
"Don't you dare call me that." Zuko's sleep-rough voice graces your ears, causing you to laugh as you move towards his side of the bed. His arms wrap around you the moment he feels you, your head resting upon his chest. "What is it, my love?"
"I'm hungry," you whisper conspiratorially, tracing shapes against his firm abdomen. "I think it's the baby and she wants firecracker buns."
Zuko huffs, amused. "The baby, huh?" He sounds more awake, a hand stroking soothing patterns up and down your back. "That's strange because I thought babies couldn't eat firecracker buns."
"They can," you say, nodding. "And they can also eat a big slice of the very delicious cake chef Rin baked today for dessert." You sound hopeful and Zuko tilts his head down to look at you, you're already staring at him. You're heartbreakingly adorable; your pretty eyes wide and soft lips pursed into a pout.
Cuteness aggression strikes him hard, robs him of his breath and renders him weak. He was going to get you what you wanted, regardless, but this only kicks him into high gear. Giving into a selfish desire, Zuko leans in to kiss you sweetly, heart swelling at how you melt into him with a happy sound.
After a moment, he's pulling back reluctantly so he can slide out of bed and tug on his robe. You're smiling when he comes in to kiss you once more, murmuring, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't miss me too."
"I already am," you murmur back, your smile softening and Zuko feels like he's the luckiest man to ever exist.
Mrs. Wilson sighs softly as she supervises the kitchens at Bridgerton house. “I do not disagree with you, Mrs. Crabtree, but unfortunately there is little we can do.”
Mrs. Crabtree nods in agreement, but she doesn’t have to like it. “Young Miss Eloise’s birthday was two months ago, and it was remembered.”
“It is a assumed that little girls are more sensitive to such things,” Mrs. Wilson points out. “And Mr. Benedict is eighteen now. Most young men are not so worried about their family throwing them a birthday party.”
The older cook knows better. She’s known Benedict Bridgerton since he was just a little babe, and with the death of the Viscount oh-so-recent…”Mrs. Wilson, may I make him just a little something to mark the day? Nothing fancy…”
Mrs. Wilson struggles with that. “It will make the family feel bad,” she comments. “But then…maybe they should feel a little bad.” She sighs. “Quietly, Mrs. Crabtree.”
Mrs. Crabtree smiles gratefully and gets to work.
*****
It isn’t as if he doesn’t realize what’s happening, and, to be honest, he didn’t expect anything different.
For the first time in his life, there are no plans. Nothing to note the occasion. No gifts, or special meals, or pranks.
As it has been for the last few months, it is just quiet.
He passes Anthony in the hall, and there’s a tiny part of him that hopes that maybe-
“Brother,” the eldest Bridgerton nods distractedly as he passes him by.
Benedict nods. “Good morning,” he says quietly.
They’ve only been back in town for a few days, and their mother is, as ever, hiding from the world, still in mourning. He won’t see her today, he knows.
He checks in in the nursery, and rocks little Hyacinth in his arms for a few moments. Plays with Eloise a little.
“You seem sad,” Eloise notes. “Are you sad?”
Benedict smiles at her. “I am not sad. I am merely tired.”
But it is a lie; one he’s been telling more and more and more.
“Easy, Ben,” he mutters to himself in private, using the phrase his father used to to help calm his nerves.
He sets his sights on sketching. Maybe in the garden. He grabs his supplies and heads that way, taking a seat on one of the swings, doodling absently.
“Mr. Benedict.”
He looks up, bracing himself to give one of the staff some direction, or be told that someone is here to see the family. But what he finds is Mrs. Crabtree standing there, holding what looks like a fresh, spiced bun on a little plate.
She hands it to him and pats his shoulder gently. “Just a little something to mark the day, sir. Happy birthday.”
Benedict stares at it for a long moment, taking a breath and giving the woman what might be the first genuine smile he’s given anyone in some time. “Thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Crabtree, this is most thoughtful. I appreciate it very much. Thank you.”
Mrs. Crabtree smiles, patting his shoulder one more time. “I’ll leave you to it. Eat that before it cools.”
He watches her go, and then stares at the bun for a long moment, before taking a bite.
summary: zuko's straight-forwardness in appreciating the attractive qualities of the lone stranger saved by aang has you curious on whether you could get him to spill on what he thinks of you. (no major movie spoilers)
"He's very attractive." Zuko admits, eyes unblinking as he stares at the unconscious stranger.
The entire team whips their heads to stare at Zuko in unconcealed shock.
"What?" Zuko mutters, gaze lingering on the surprised expressions casted onto him, before eventually landing on yours. "He is. It's all in the bone structure."
You blink, unable to process his straight-forward words that landed on you like a gut punch. You've never considered it, the fact that Zuko also found others attractive.
It seems like a completely, silly notion now that the thought has verbalised itself in your mind. Of course Zuko would notice if others were considered attractive. Maybe it just never occurred to you in all your years of knowing him—of also finding him—
You clear your throat, forcing yourself to look away from his prying gaze, confusion alight in his eyes from your taken-aback expression.
If he's unconsciously considered the attractiveness of this stranger... has he ever—no, this should not be your priority. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you, it's not like it would change a thing. He's practically admitted it non-verbally through that monotonous admission of his, that a person's looks is assessed by him in a completely, impersonal standpoint.
Bone structure? You shouldn't be curious. Knowing Zuko, he might accidentally insult your structure if you asked.
The curiosity does not disappear. In fact, it digs deeper and deeper into the crevices of your mind—subconsciously affecting your attitude around Zuko.
It doesn't help that it's painfully obvious that he's noticed your strange behaviour ever since his comment. Once, when his hand had come up to your shoulder to alert you that everyone was boarding the ship—and your entire body jumped in response. Again, when you completely blanked out when he asked if you would like some firecracker buns.
It's not like you wanted to hyper-focus on his observation on purpose. It's just that after years of knowing him and pushing down that sub-concious attraction—of not allowing yourself to even see him as anything more than the Zuko you know, the rebound impact of all your resurfacing emotions combined with his lingering presence is far too much.
Zuko isn't the type to beat around the bush either, one of the rare habits his uncle hasn't passed onto him. In a moment of needed reprieve, your attempt at regaining your composure fails spectacularly when you find yourself in a stand-still, cornered in the back of the ship—one firecracker bun in his hand as an offering.
"Have I said something to make you uncomfortable?"
Zuko's gaze is akin to a puppy's, wide-eyed and brows furrowed. Afraid that he's done something wrong, overlooked the choice of his words once again and destroyed the atmosphere without realising.
Straight to the point as ever, you'd appreciate it more if he had given you a few more minutes to come up with a reasonable excuse. Something more plausible than 'Do you find me attractive?', a lingering question that should've remained buried in the soil that you departed from nearly an hour ago.
"Not exactly." Taking the firecracker bun from his hand, the crumbs coat your fingers. You needed something to muffle your words, anything to distract you. It's easier to focus on the lingering spice that melts into your tongue, rather than his unblinking stare.
"So—I did say something." His mouth parts, a slight tilt downward in the corner of his lip. "Or I've made you uncomfortable."
There was no winning with him. Swallowing your last bite, you brush the crumbs against your sleeve, the slouch of your posture a key sign of surrender, your invisible white flag waving at the sight of his increasingly dubious expression.
"The first one." You admit with a sigh. "Earlier—"
He leans in subtly, a habit he does when he's listening attentively, and the luscious wave of his bangs brushes against your knuckles. His amber eyes pierce through you, and the words practically die off your tongue.
Why is he looking at you like that?
It isn't fair that he has such an effect on you. You still remember the old days, when he had a worser temper instead of the softened expression that lingers warmly on you. Plus, that horrible haircut, a singular ponytail with the rest of his hair shaved off forever engrained in your mind. Even recalling the image doesn't help calm your thundering heartbeat when the Zuko in front of you is so—overwhelming.
"You were saying?" He prods gently.
You swallow, averting your gaze. "When you mentioned... about attractiveness. Was that like—a spur of the moment kind of thing, or do you have a first impression for everyone you meet?"
His brows furrow for a moment, before recognition lights his golden gaze. "Ah—that."
"Right, that." You feel the seat warming beneath you in your embarrassment, a hallucination of senses in your sudden need to escape his assessing gaze. He barely even remembers his comment, and here you are, still obsessively prying over it.
"I was only answering Toph's question." He states. "No one was stating the obvious."
"The obvious." You muse. "Do you assess the attractiveness of everyone you meet?"
"I suppose it depends." He mutters, hand rubbing over his chin in consideration. "If it was during a battle, I wouldn't be prioritising on considering the opponent's appearance. As compared to someone knocked out on the ground, it gives me plenty of time."
You barely resist a snort. Only he could treat a topic like a person's attractiveness like one of his battle strategies. "I suppose you didn't have time during our first meeting then."
As soon as the words leave your mouth, both you and Zuko freeze. Your lips clamp shut, an immediate wince shuddering through your frame. Cat's out of the bag, you suppose.
"Never mind." You wave it off, your own laugh echoing much too loudly through your ears. "It wasn't like I was wondering—well, maybe I was. You just sprung it out of nowhere earlier, and I got... curious. You don't have to answer—"
"I did." He cuts you off unceremoniously.
You blink, his vague words echoing in the thin distance between the two of you. "What?"
He swallows, and for once, he's the one flustered in this conversation. "I did notice, during our first meeting."
No way. Your first meeting with Zuko was anything but pretty. You remember being covered in sweat, grime, and ashes coating your clothes as he shot flames at you from his palms. The twisted grimace on his face when you had him writhing under your grip, as he loudly declared his revenge on you, rupturing your eardrums with all his yelling.
"You mean—" You barely resist a grin stretching on your lips. "—when I pinned you down on your airship, and you were spitting death threats into my ear."
"Yes, that." His long locks cover his ears now, but you can bet the rims are reddened from the reminder. "You were formidable."
Formidable. No, that wasn't enough. His sudden focus on the floorboards of his ship made it obvious that he was simplifying his observation.
"I was gaining the winning hand." You state out-right, disbelief coating your tone. "And you had time to notice?"
A restrained sigh escapes Zuko's gritted teeth, already regretting his slip of tongue.
"What of the angle? Does the Fire Lord recall my bone structure during our first battle too, when I pinned you to the floor?" You tease.
He scoffs in a light-hearted manner, shoulder lightly bumping into yours. "It was the first time anyone had pinned me down. I wasn't exactly given another view to look at."
"Was the view bad then?" You prod.
"Not at all." He answers absentmindedly—quickly without hesitation.
Your lips part, speechless. Zuko immediately separates his shoulder from yours, a bashful expression overtaking his features.
"Objectively." He states hurriedly, waving his arms. "I was expecting to find the Avatar at the time, not... you."
The way he says it, the almost breathless note that leaves his lips. You devour it hungrily, now being the one to lean in, prying.
"And how did you find me, Zuko?" You ask earnestly.
He huffs in defeat. His softened gaze finally meets yours again, his eyes roaming over your features, ones that he's familiarised with for years, and yet... it still takes the breath out of him. "...You were the most beautiful person I've ever sparred with."
Oh... wow. You didn't expect that.
"You were threatening to kill me." You recall in disbelief.
"I was multi-tasking." He mutters, ashamed.
Your intended snort escalates into a cackle, unable to contain yourself. "I would have never guessed that from the way you glared at me. So full of shame—and destroyed pride."
"What about you?" He asks in a hurry, though his tone drops towards the end in hesitation—hinting his regret in the wrong change in topic. He grimaces, gaze dropping to his tightened fists over his lap. "...Did you find my scar hideous?"
Surprise colours your features.
Immediately shaking your head, you're at a loss for words on how to convey just how off-course he was on his guess. How could you ever find Zuko hideous? Your heart barely survived your visits to the Fire Nation, not when their own Fire Lord always insisted on attending to your presence personally, even when it arose suspicion of your shared bond with him, to have him so easily distracted when you arrived on his lands.
Even now, he's overwhelming your vision. Healthy muscles that are barely hidden under his clothes, or the hair he's refused to cut ever since his youth that now flows lusciously down his broad back. His amber eyes that glint golden when the sun reflects his irises, and even the conjured image of the way his arms move when he's fire-bending.
He's— "Beautiful."
By the time you realise your second slip of the tongue, Zuko has already blinked once, caught off-guard.
You purse your lips, finding this conversation to be as riveting as it is a weaponised self-attack. "Objectively speaking. You're attractive, Zuko."
"Objectively." He repeats slowly, amused that you're using his own deflecting choice of words.
"Fine, like really attractive." You deadpan. "It's annoying, because I'm supposed to be focused on the mission, and you're just... standing there."
It was the truth. You couldn't be the only one who noticed it. His subtle change in demeanour over the years, how he carried himself into a room now instead of randomly announcing his arrival at the worst timings. Even Sokka noticed.
He snorts, and the sound deflates the tension in your chest. "Funny, I should be saying that about you."
You gasp, expression aghast. "You're joking."
"It is not honourable to lie." He shrugs. "You've always been the most magnetic in my eyes. I can never find myself looking away from you."
You grow quiet, the genuine sincerity in his words leaving you defenseless. Have you been blind all along? Is that why he always sent letters—asking you to visit his nation for purposes other than meetings? Or why he sought for your company constantly during this entire trip, despite it being the first time the entire set of Team Avatar being together in months?
You had been too focused on what was comfortable and familiar, to teasing and prodding, that you never considered this.
"For the record." You whisper, leaning in to truly look at him. "I never found your scar hideous. You were always beautiful to me, Zuko."
He swallows, something intense flickering in his gaze—but too fleeting for you to catch onto it. Maybe it had always been there, when his eyes linger on your form when he accompanied you in his palace gardens, or even back then, when he was a banished prince who sought for you, even with a grimace on his face.
"That haircut when we first met, though?" Your smile breaks out into a toothy grin. "Absolutely hideous."
The softness in his gaze falters, before a groan rumbles past his throat. "Will you ever let that one go?"
"Never."
He lets out a low breath, drained of his energy. "I admitted to finding you attractive, and this is my repayment?"
"Who's finding who attractive?"
Sokka's voice strikes a jump in your shoulders, and Zuko's in an impressive halt, frozen completely after being caught red-handed.
"Ah, between the two of you—" Sokka whistles. "I was wondering who was going to break first. Congrats, love-birds!"
"We're not—" Your voice clashes with Zuko's. "This isn't—"
You sneak a glance to Zuko, and his hand is already covering half of his face, his embarrassment shielded by the shadow of his large palm.
Sokka's confused gaze switches between the two of you, blinking slowly.
"Ah, couple years too early?" Sokka shrugs, before clicking his tongue. "That's rough. I'll check back in with you guys in another time." Making his way back towards the front, he shouts once more to prove his point. "Just don't let me catch you guys making out or anything, I'll need to poke out my eyes for that one!"
"...We better restrain him before he starts blasting it as news to everyone." You groan.
"Agreed." He mutters.
Right as you made your move to leave, Zuko's hand grips yours—stopping you.
You lift your head, meeting his gaze. "Yeah?"
His Adam's apple bobs up and down, consideration clear in his expression before he decisively leans in. His voice is a warm hush, soft and intimate when he whispers. "For the record." Your own words echo back to your ears in the low hush of his voice. "I wasn't only referring to our first meeting when I said that you're beautiful."
His smile quirks up into something tender, a secret expression reserved only for you. ...At this rate, your curiousity was really going to be the death of you.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <333
a/n: i need to write more firelord zuko stat. he looks so good and still so awkward my childhood crush has been reignited.
cn: pre-established relationship. marriage. explicit sexual content [18+]. blowjob. vaginal fingering. slightly exhibitionism kink. dirty talking. 1.6 k words
A/N: After seeing adult Zuko, I couldn’t stop writing a little for him. Not the best, but eh. Part 2 - here
credits for the fanart: natandraw on twitter
Being a Fire Lord comes with great responsibilities. Zuko’s tumultuous past is proof of that. Regaining his honour was something Zuko didn’t expect to happen this way, especially since he now rules an entire nation. Even so, he will deeply appreciate his firelady for standing right beside him. Meaning — You.
Involved in every issue facing the nation, a hidden activist since his father’s time who managed to stand out to him immediately after Zuko returned to the throne. He couldn’t help but notice your devotion, all the efforts you made, and all the battles you fought against people who still didn’t trust him enough—or worse, who were swayed by his father’s dictatorial regime.
And that is precisely why your unconditional love helps him hope for a better future every single day. And you’re no different. Especially since you’ve noticed how tired your dear husband has been lately, buried in thousands upon thousands of stacks of reports and strategies he has to sign.
Hidden in his office among the papers, behind his desk, Zuko sighed unconsciously. He looked up when he heard the lack of a knock followed by someone walked straight into the place, assuming it couldn’t be anyone but you.
“Good afternoon, my love.” Zuko gave you a weary smile, resting his hand on your waist as you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. He closed his eyes as you kissed his temple, your tender smile calming his mind.
“Hey there.”
You leaned in slightly to look at the crowded table, Zuko’s hand still moving as the nib pierced the paper with ink.
“I assume my husband will join me later tonight again.” He gave you a short, apologetic look, knowing he had neglected you these last days. But Zuko didn’t know you weren’t really upset about that. Your intention was something else entirely. And he barely caught that when he wanted to speak back, only for his mouth to remain part open slightly as he locked his eyes on yours, seeing a teasing glinting in them while one of your hands starts wandering over his toned body, fingers brushing slowly. “And I think I have an idea how to help him more.”
He gulped; his hand stopped writing entirely as his attention was only on you.
“Y-Yeah? And what this idea might be?”
You hummed, lifting your hand to cup his cheek, reaching his beautiful scar, only for you to give him a kiss, slowly at first until you made his other hand drop the pen and come to grip the other side of your waist as you kissed him deeper, making him hiss after you teasingly nip his lip.
Surprise crossed his face while his pale cheeks start blushing when you slowly drop down on the floor between his legs while your gaze never leaves him.
“Love, wait—Someone could…” He breathed out harshly when your hands started massaging his inner thighs after moving his traditional robe to each side, not minding his words. “…come.”
“I will be careful, Zuko.” His muscles tensed when your fingers played with his pants around his waistline, before you leisurely dropped his pants to reach the floor. “Do you trust me?”
Fuck. More like Zuko could not trust himself when he looked into your charming, pretty eyes; the mischievous look on your face only screamed trouble. He barely nods, followed by a gasp when you brush your hand over his clothed dick, murmuring after seeing the wet spot from his precum over there.
“Hmm, but my love seems to want this from the start? Otherwise he will not be so excited so soon.
“N-No…it’s not that. It wasn’t intentional—F-fuck…"
You chuckled after his own moan stopped him, right after you give his tip a peck before undressing him completely. Your hand comes to spread his precum, helping you stroke him gradually.
“Then I’m lucky, my love. Making my firelord so excited after so little touches.”
But how could he not? He is in love with you so much that he can embarrassingly admit only your embrace could make his body react inappropriately. You licked around his tip then, making his breath falter and his chest heavend from the anticipation until he groaned, feeling the vibration of your own moan around his veins when you took him in your mouth.
Zuko forced his pleasured sounds lower, struggling to stay still as you sucked him off, already feeling on the edge — only for the situation to turn worse. You let his dick throb in your mouth at the sudden knock on the door as you stay still, instantly urging him to help him cover you with his robe.
“Lord Zuko, can I enter? I received an important letter that I must give you.”
You let your hand come outside of the robe to gesticulate an approval as he felt anxious enough not to follow another dangerous idea, yet he did so.
“You…can come in.”
The man comes inside, first looking at the letter in his hand before glancing up at his way too tensed lord, looking painfully at him with his narrowed, brown eyes.
“Lord Zuko, everything fine?”
At that, as the minx you are, you slowly suck him in again; your hand comes to cup his full balls, massaging tenderly before you lightly squeeze it, making him grunt, hiding it with a choke.
“Yes.” His throat tightens, struggling to form coherent words. “Just tired. Thank you for…the delivery.”
The man skeptically nodded before bowing, turning around to leave as Zuko’s heart started feeling a little more at ease, trying not to lose his own mind, control slipping by the way your mouth was cockwarming him so good it took all his discipline to behave.
“Lord Zuko, I apologise for giving more to your plate. I suggest you sleep well and leave other matters for tomorrow.”
“Mhm. H-Have a good afternoon.”
When the door locked, Zuko instantly lifted his robe to look at you. You glanced up, face reddened from the heat created by the suffocating air, yet you didn’t stop.
“Love, are you okay—“ Zuko’s head leaned back when you started sucking him more, deep enough to hit your throat over and over. You slipped out to lick a trail from the top to the bottom, then letting your tongue suck on his balls, placing kisses all over him while your other hand came to stroke him firmly.
“More than okay.” You were too aroused by the adrenaline pumping in your veins after almost being caught, needing him so much to cum in your mouth. “You were so hot, barely restraining yourself.” You suck around his sensitive tip before speaking between sweet slurps. “I love to see my love like that.”
Zuko is a step away from turning mad, insane. Madly in love with the way you take care of him, drying him for all he's worth.
“Love—Ah! I can’t—I will…”
Zuko cupped your cheek as he looked into your eyes while you felt his dick throb once again. No longer after his cum started purring in your mouth while you swallowed as much as you could. When he slipped his cock out of your mouth, you come again to lick him clean, devouring what he gave you.
He watched in a daze, letting his fingers wander, his thumb spreading your mouth before he gathered some remains of his cum, slipping two fingers in your mouth while you sucked them eagerly. Something in his eyes changed, a fire was in them by the way he leaned down until his hand came behind your neck for his lips to find yours. The other one urged you to lift, to come and sit on his lap, on the side.
Zuko purred his love for you in it, slipping his tongue inside while you felt his desire. The hand that didn’t support your head came to touch you, feeling your breast under your dress against his palm, before he came slowly between your legs. He whispered against your lips, eyes not leaving yours.
“Did my firelady enjoy making a mess out of me?”
“Z-Zuko…”
You felt your skin burning against his touch, now being the one compromised when you glanced at the door, then at him. Yet, when his hand comes under your dress, his fingers circling between your thighs, closer to your soaked pussy, your words weigh nothing. “Someone can come again…”
In a second, Zuko lifted his hand for his finger to point at the door; his striking lightning travelled over the electrical system of the door, closing it. His mouth twitched at your surprised expression.
“You’re insane, Zuko.”
He hummed, retuning his path before finally touching you, setting your panties to the side, circling slowly around your clit.
“Insane because of you.”
“Oh my—“
He nuzzled his head in your neck, planting his wet kisses, his love marks on your heated skin while one of his fingers came lower, testing the entrance only to easily enter inside your pussy.
“You liked that much to help me relieve some tension, love? That’s why you are so soaked right now for me?”
He chuckled as he saw how truly fucked your expression is, moaning as the second finger followed, thrusting faster and faster inside your pussy.
“Y-yes—I love it. Fuck, I love you, Zuko—“
Zuko groaned at your devoted words, pumping his fingers more roughly, deeper for you to reach your orgasm. He kissed you so intensely it made your mind dizzy and blank until all you could think was how much you wanted him.
“I love you too, my fire lady. Love you so much. Please, cum for me.”
You nodded frantically as your legs trembled, body twitching over him as you locked your hands strongly over his shoulder, head resting against his chest for any kind of support as you felt yourself cumming, your wetness slipping down his fingers as he dragged your orgasm until you stopped moving.
Zuko slipped his fingers slowly from your pussy, coming to embrace you tightly over your vulnerable body. He leaned his head over yours, pressing a kiss here while his hand caressing your body.
“We should go to bed, my love.” He chuckled as you mindlessly nod, still recovering after the orgasm. “I’ll bath both of us first." You only hummed in return, gripping him more tightly while he rose from the chair with you in his arms.
You are so lucky to have such a caring, lovely husband. But his situation is no different.
when avatar aang’s letter accidentally outs firelord zuko’s feelings for his royal advisor. oh my gosh i’ve been so obsessed with that^^ picture it’s insane i need him to look at me like that. oh and! flirty!reader kinda
“Your Highness, the Royal Advisor is—”
“Send her in, please.” The guard doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Zuko interrupts him. It’s practically routine now, he doesn’t understand why they need to ask him repeatedly, you’re there practically every night!
Not for nefarious reasons, Zuko would never do that. No, it was your duty as his advisor to talk to him and give him advice pertaining to anything he wishes to discuss, be it the weather, your favourite meals for some reason, submarine formations, or just talking, about nothing in particular, your voice always just had a calming effect on him.
“Your Highness.” You greet him as you enter his chambers, a lavish room fit for the Fire Lord indeed. This wasn’t the same chambers that previous Fire Lords had resided in, when Zuko took the throne, he had the Princely palace wing that he grew up in converted to his chambers. The place is beautiful regardless, endless sea of different shades of red that come together just perfectly.
Zuko doesn’t look up from his paperwork as you also greet and then dismiss the guard. “Zuko.” You call out softly after the door closes, leaving you two alone during this beautiful night. There were several lamps lit across the room, illuminating the entire space in a warm glow, but the moonlight tonight is strong too.
Zuko finally glances up at you at the beckoning of his name, the tip of his lips quirking up in the faintest smile. He has disregarded his royal regalia for the day, the crown and heavy robes resting on the other side of the room. Now he’s in simple, comfortable sleepwear, which does nothing to hide his well-built muscular form underneath.
It was no surprise the friendship between you and Zuko. You’ve known eachother since you were children, you weren’t particularly friends, you were just his father’s advisor’s daughter that he interacted with occasionally. The only reason he picked you to be his advisor very early into his reign was the fact that you were critical of his father’s practices since a young age, privately of course, words only Zuko would hear.
It was only after then that a friendship blossomed. You were around him so much that it was inescapable, you were his closest confidant. You knew everything this about him, you were the only person he felt truly open and comfortable around in the Fire Nation, so it also wasn’t quite the shock when Zuko realised the ache in his chest when he saw you was not only platonic or professional but romantic too.
He greets you back with a soft whisper of your name, going back to skimming through whatever the document in front of him was. Zuko cherished moments like this. When it is just the two of you alone, when you could too let your guard down with no watchful eyes and just call him ‘Zuko’.
You were too dressed in casual wear, robes and the pins and medals that are usually decorated on them missing, simple red dress with a hem that kissed the ground and you walked, like you always were during these meetings with him.
“Avatar Aang sent a letter through.” You announced as you walked across his room, one hand holding up your dress so you don’t trip on it and the other waving a piece of parchment around. Zuko is situated in the floor, on a cushion with his legs crossed, a small, short table in front of him with ink, documents and a lamp rested on it.
“Read it out for me?” Zuko asks in a low voice, sleep infecting it and making it gravelly, enough to send a chill down your spine. You feel a slight rush of heat to your cheeks, feeling lucky that he wasn’t looking at you. Is it really your fault? Has anyone taken a look at this man? It’s unfair!
The way the light from the lamp was illuminating his side profile, in the way you could see every contor of his face and scar. He grew up, losing his childish features, replaced with sharp contours of his cheeks, nose and jaw. Zuko glances up at you again, wondering why you’ve suddenly gone silent, with you looking away before he caught you staring.
“Flameo Hotman. How goes running the Fire Nation?” You begin to narrate dramatically as you sink into the floor, tucking your legs under the table on the opposite side to Zuko so that you sat facing him. You continue reading, the two issues that the Avatar requires help with, something in Republic City and something related to food. You converse with Zuko, talking through the problems, his sassy remarks extracting chuckles and giggles from you occasionally.
“And lastly I am curious, did you tell—Oh.”
The documents he was examining earlier is now left abandoned as Zuko was solely focused on you, and now your reaction has his eyebrows scrunching. You were smiling till a moment ago, but whatever you read at the end had the joy leave your face and…a smirk stretching across your lips.
You glance up at Zuko from behind the piece of parchment, an odd glint in your eyes, maybe even…heat? Your teeth bite into your lower lip as you glance back at the letter and then back at Zuko. “What is it? What does it say?” Zuko questions, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening.
A soft huff of amusement leaves between your bitten lips, trying your best to keep your composure. Zuko watches as you fail and burst out into a giggle, your face reddening slightly. You look back at him, the same glint still in your eyes.
“Lastly I am curious.” You start and pause dramatically, the look in your eyes darkening a little. Agni, Zuko swears in his head, this is not helping the ache in his chest, the way you were looking at him, the smile stretched across your lips.
“Did you tell your royal advisor of your romantic feelings…for her?” You read out, voice dipping by an octave.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, Zuko is fucked.
“And asked if she is a bachelor or not? Seize the opportunity before it slips out of your fingers, my friend!” You finish reading, silently folding it before pressing the letter into the table, looking up at Zuko’s expression of being caught off guard.
The silence is very loud as you two just look at eachother, all color drained from his face and pure amusement on yours. Zuko’s eyes bare into yours and you can almost see the way he’s not only registering what you said but also working out on what to say, clearly unable to think of anything to say.
“Do you have other Royal Advisors I am not aware of…or?” You start, smirk still stretched across your lips. Zuko just blinks at you, his hetrochromatic eyes shining, his adam’s apple bopping as he swallows nervously. “He was simply…jesting.” Is somehow the only thing he can come up with currently, the usual sassiness you see in him completely disappeared.
“So you’re not in love with me?”
You say, a little too quickly causing Zuko’s eyes to widen, his scar stretching because of his surprise. “Uh…” Zuko quirks, but you smile smirk at him sweetly. “I…Its not…That’s, it’s. Um.” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck as you look at him expectantly.
You can see him buffering in real time, the machinery in his brain short circuiting as it’s unable to process what’s happening. You stay smiling at the Fire Lord as he just stares at you, probably praying for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.
You roll your eyes at his stupor, taking it into yourself to make a move, you prep yourself up into your knees, pressing you palms flat onto the mahogany wood as you lean cross the table as Zuko sits as still as a statue. You lean close enough for your nose to hover right over his cheek and partially his scar.
“I am a bachelor, Your Highness. Veeeery lonely.” You whisper as his face reddens even more before you rush forward to press a kiss his cheek, his skin soft beneath your lips. You feel Zuko let out a harsh exhale as you pull away, standing up to your full height, looking down at him a moment before turning to walk away.
“Goodnight, Zuko” You wave as you leave.
first time writing for him and i hate this cause it’s like 4am and i need to sleep😔😔 yeah no i just hate this BUT I MADE THE MISTAKE OF SNEAK PEAKING IT SO NOW I HAVE TO POST IT- anyway. adult zuko has me KSKSKKDKDKDJDJDK
Currently watching: I don’t watch a lot of TV as I’m usually writing.
Currently reading: Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir
Current obsession: Bucky Barnes
Currently working: a one shot prequel to A Single Day, a longer novel Two Minutes (currently on Wattpad and AO3), and a shorter multi-part fiction Personal Affairs (on AO3), soon to be posted here.
Last Song: (I Just) Died In Your Arms - Any Given Sin
Favorite Color: Green
Currently Watching: Doing a rewatch of The Grand Tour
Currently Reading: Nothing at the moment, just finished reading The Green Mile by Stephen King (i've lost track of how many times i've read this book and i cry every time)
Current Obsession: Resident Evil
Currently Working On: Under the Stars (Carlos Oliveira x reader)
Last Google Search: water pump for 2005 dodge ram (my truck is getting old lol)
Here you go anon! Jumin with his baby girl makes me so emotional oh my God. I hope you enjoy it!
***
Jumin as a new father to a baby girl
♚ My first instinct was to say that he would spoil her rotten and treat her like a little princess, right?
♚ But as I thought about it, I decided against it.
♚ Jumin grew up in a very sheltered household, was waited on hand and foot and wanted for nothing.
♚ And then when he met you, he realised everything that he had actually missed out on.
♚ He was ignorant on ‘common’ things, and learnt that he loved the freedom and excitement of that world.
♚ He also learnt that his upbringing actually caused a lot of problems for his mentality and outlook on life. It made him a brilliant businessman, but not always necessarily a ‘good’ man.
♚ After meeting you, he understood more about empathy, generosity and privilege, and he was infinitely grateful for the man you helped him become.
♚ So, when your baby daughter was born, he promised to her that he would give her a fairer upbringing.
♚ But of course he spoiled her every now and then because he can’t help it he just loves her so much
♚ He cut down his hours at work (I’m so sorry Jaehee) to spend time with her and help you raise her. He refused to be an absent figure in her childhood like his father was in his.
♚ When I say he loved this girl, I mean he loved this girl. Jumin had never felt such a strong emotion towards another human being in his life.
♚ He would often just stare at her, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a joy in his life.
♚ Every day he thanked you for giving him such a beautiful daughter, and you often found him just sobbing at how much he loved the both of you and how grateful he was.
♚ Any opportunity he had to hold her, he would take it. You lost count of the amount of times you found him asleep with her on his chest, also asleep.
♚ so C U T E i cannot
♚ When she was playing he didn’t care if he got covered in marker or sand or whatever, he wasn't fazed. He just loved spending time with her and making her laugh like oh my God that laugh killed him every time.
♚ Always the first one up if she was crying in the night. You would always join him to help, but always managed to make her stop crying.
♚ He would sing lullabies to her and read her stories and when I say it melted you heart I mean it left your heart as a gooey mess of goo it was just so damn precious.
♚ Family has always been a number one priority for him, and he felt so blessed that you two were able to make one together.
♚ She also actually helped bring Jumin and V closer together again.
♚ V adored her and she adored him, so it truly felt like V was a part of his family again.
♚ I am weak for uncle V that’s the cutest shit in the world
♚ Jumin did get a lil jealous though sometimes lol like Jihyun that’s my child ok she’s supposed to love me more back off
♚ But of course she loved her dad way more <3
♚ When she got a little older, Jumin learnt how to do her hair for school.
♚ It became their thing, every morning he would brush and style her hair until it became the most natural thing in the world.
♚ When she was a teenager she obviously did her own hair, but when she was stressed or upset it was his way of calming her down.
♚ He could tell just by the look on her face if she was upset so he would silently grab the hairbrush and gently running it through her hair whilst she talked about what was bothering her.
♚ They were best friends, and he thanked God and you for such a beautiful gift.
♚ Walking her down the aisle was the hardest thing he had to do, but he was also so proud of the woman she became.
♚ “She’s not our baby girl anymore,” he said sadly.
♚ “She’ll always be our baby girl, and you’ll always be her daddy,” you reassured him.
***
Thank you for such a sweet request! Have a lovely day! <3
and make sure your comments are kind!!! “I love this so much!” and “this is amazing! I’m so excited for what happens next” are more likely to get your favorite fics updated than “when will we get the next chapter?”
This is mostly a ramble about my year. It was... something for sure, scary since it was not that great at the beginning, but then it got confusing, then the holidays came around and it felt numb, now it's almost over the year, and though to me it only means a cycle is over, it is also just time passing through.
I keep wishing for the same, but now there is new things too. All of them more terrifying than the new one, but yet, I'm still here, and I am proud of that.
I made new friends, lost old ones, started to fall in love to end up being just not chosen and disappointed, and also be half a situationship on it. Spend my birthday without my mom (she is not dead) for the first time in my life, and to feel so lonely in the house I was raised in.
Life it's so scary, and I'm only 23, I cannot imagine how much things will change for me this new year, but I think I'm getting so much better at this adulting thing.
If someone read this, thanks, hope you have a great year and for life to be gentle with you ❤️
