Apr 20
no because nobody understands how hard it was to find x reader fics of anyone in the gaang or atla fandom in general before this movie came out. now there’s new fics coming out daily. I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS‼️
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no because nobody understands how hard it was to find x reader fics of anyone in the gaang or atla fandom in general before this movie came out. now there’s new fics coming out daily. I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS‼️
ꮼ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬
ᦸ explicit smut ⸝⸝ cunnilingus ⸝⸝ devoted eaters ⸝⸝ not proofread.
𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 : toph katara sokka zuko aang
ᦸ 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡 tends to get a bit lost in it... a solid 8/10.
She starts off by kissing your inner thighs and pulling your legs over her shoulders, teasingly breathing on you while whispering; it's always painfully slow before she gets to work.
You can never last long when she goes down on you, from the way she's trying to suck your soul out & her own little noises; who can even blame you?
She'll moan into you every time you tug her hair, sucking & slurping at your clit harder as your thighs curl tightly around her head.
She will lick her lips before kissing your lips after you finish on her pretty tongue.
ᦸ 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚 is a quick learner & practices often... hands down a 10/10.
She's always so patient with her teasing, because she knows once she goes all in, the sex won't last more than five minutes.
Her record for making you finish the quickest was three minutes, where she'd refused to break eye contact while eating like she'd been starved.
Katara's grown very in tune with your body, listening to what it's saying more than just going crazy; she'll be very tender with it, holding your thighs in place & taking breaks to whisper how pretty you look for her.
She always pulls back, slowly exhales & kisses up your stomach while asking if you're okay after she gets you to finish for her—like she hadn't just made you see stars.
ᦸ 𝐬𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐚 makes sure his girl is very satisfied... 8/10.
He'll get so into it sometimes he'll not realize how many times you've finished until your thighs are shaking against his skull, whining that you can't take anymore.
It always strokes his ego when you cum on his face, which is fine; with his skills, he deserves it. The only complaint you could even have about it is how fast he gets you there.
Sometimes, he'll use his fingers if his jaw needs a momentary break. But then he'll coo how pretty you look, & his tone doesn't help when you're trying to last long enough that it isn't pathetic.
He'll always be so proud of himself while cleaning you off after, too, sweet & gentle, but you can just feel that he's smug about it.
ᦸ 𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐨 eats for the love of the game... 9/10.
He's very thorough when eating you out. Patiently taking the time to learn everything that makes you tick & sticking with it.
Sometimes he'll stop and pull back just to lick his lips & stare at you before diving back in; that pause always feels more intimate than the build-up, with his long hair brushing your skin & half-lidded eyes.
He grips onto your thighs whenever you're close & holds you in place so you can't just squirm away, pulling back to rest a palm on your stomach and reminding you to stay still.
Zuko's always so sweet after you come for him, cleaning you up & offering to make you dinner, run you a bath, or just sit with you for a few minutes.
ᦸ 𝐚𝐚𝐧𝐠 does not play about his favorite meal... no notes, 10/10.
He moans like he's the one getting head—hands placed firmly on your stomach & he'll moan into you so desperately it's almost pathetic.
Aang uses his fingers on your clit, though sparingly, so he can focus on teasing you. He'll slowly trace around the sensitive nub while he gets drunk off your noises; any sound he gets out of you is such an accomplishment.
The fact that he's the avatar doesn't matter; the moment you're in bed, the only thing on his mind is how good he can make you feel.
Whenever he can tell you're close, he likes to intertwine one of his hands with yours so you can feel more comfortable.
Aftercare is good too; he'll carry you to the bathroom & run you a bubble bath while making sure you're okay.
The Gaang + Eating You Out Headcanons
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI [18+] afab reader
like animals.ᐟ gaang x reader
summary: the gaang admit they want you and decide to show you exactly how much.
warnings: sub!reader, fem!reader, orgy dynamics, multiple partners, oral sex, handjobs, throat fucking implied, oral receiving, praise kink, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, temperature play, ice play, sensory overload, rough kissing, gagging, degradation themes, punishment but no reward, consensual dominance, breast play, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, messy kissing, cum play, sexual tension, power dynamics, smut, MDNI;
wc: 2,5k
a/n: katara being both a top and the mastermind behind this was inevitable actually. thank you to my 💠 anon for suggesting this.
It started as a joke.
As a funny question about who was having crushes on who.
One thing led to another, and they all somehow told you it was you.
That was when silence fell over the entire room.
During your time together with the gaang, there had been awkward moments and silence before, yet nothing too out of the ordinary. But this one? It was different. More suffocating. More… intimate. You could feel the gazes on you now, watching you with focus and unreadable expressions.
Your heartbeat started increasing, your palms turning sweaty as your mind scrambled for something to say. You didn’t know what to do or where to go from this.
Of course, the attraction was both ways.
From the moment you met them and started spending time together, you felt it growing stronger with every passing day. But you never dared to say or do anything about it, too scared it would ruin the vibe between all of you.
I've recently been on the avatar side of tiktok and I've been BAWLING over this freaking comment
THE CREATIVITY??? OH MY GOOOODDD IM LITERALLY SOBBING
SERIOUS APPLAUSE TO THE ONE WHO WROTE IT
the gaang — and their kink vibe.
just the energy they bring that would absolutely expose them.
disclaimer: all adult. all your partner. suggestive. more "what kind of tension do they carry?" than anything explicit.♡
jealous type adult! gaang x f!reader ⤷ how i think the gaang would react when they're jealous over you
warnings: possessive behavior, some of them are petty. some of them are immature. but hey, they're jealous, okay? avatar masterlist ⋆˙⟡
ladies first !
katara ~ a very jealous and possessive woman, but she does a great job at hiding it behind the surface. if she feels threatened in any way, she'll throw herself into the situation and make herself known. "hi! i'm her girlfriend!" she'd wedge herself between you and whoever she saw as the threat, grabbing the person's hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake, though behind her blue eyes she's wishing nothing but their death. "well, actually, soon-to-be wife, so~"
toph ~ she's a proud woman, and she's confident you wouldn't do a thing to threaten your relationship with her. it's not often she gets riled up, but boyyyy, if you make her jealous, she's going to make your day—and the person who tried to hit on you's—hell. she'd quickly earthbend a pebble right at the kid's face. and when you tell her to behave, she'd roll her eyes and say, "i am behaving. it's you who isn't."
andddd now for the men.
"Burnt Patterns.. II"
Morning came heavy and bright.
The kind of Fire Nation summer morning that made the palace roofs shimmer under the sun and warmed the stone hallways before breakfast had even been served.
You had slept perhaps an hour.
No more
Your mind had spent the entire night circling around every look, every clipped word, every flinch from your daughter.
You had cried into Zuko’s chest until exhaustion numbed you.
He had held you with no blame no anger.
Only those steady hands rubbing slow circles against your back as if reminding you that guilt could either drown you or teach you.
By sunrise, you chose teach.
You dressed simply again and asked one of the servants where Princess Zumi was.
“In the eastern courtyard, Your Majesty. Bending lesson.”
Of course.
You thanked her and made your way there, heartbeat strangely uneven.
This time you did not announce yourself.
You stayed near enough to watch, far enough not to interrupt.
A shadow beneath the archway.
And there she was.
Your daughter.
Her tiny spine ramrod straight.
Hands clasped behind her back while Master Hanzu circled her.
“Again.”
“Yes, Master.”
Proper.
Like always
Never “okay.”
Never childish grumbling.
You watched as she moved through each form with almost unnerving precision.
Left foot.
Turn.
Breathe
Push.
A ribbon of orange fire leapt cleanly from her palms.
“Higher.” She adjusted.
Again.
“Control the wrist.”
Again.
At one point her footing slipped.
A very minor mistake.
The kind Iroh Jr. would have loudly announced to the world with dramatic outrage.
But Zumi did not pout nor whine.
She did not ask for reassurance.
She simply reset herself.
Repeated the movement.
Perfected it.
Again.
And only when Master Hanzu gave the smallest nod of approval did some invisible tension leave her shoulders.
Your throat tightened.
Zuko had been right.
painfully right.
This wasn’t confidence
It was performance.
You leaned against the stone pillar, suddenly dizzy with regret.
How many times had she been trying to earn from everyone what should have been freely given at home?
When the lesson ended, Master Hanzu bowed and left.
Zumi gathered her sash and water flask, small and efficient.
You stepped forward before fear could stop you.
“Hi, baby.”
She looked up.
Blink.
Then immediately looked over her shoulder. Then to the right. Then left.
Searching.
The tiny movement was almost nothing.
But it split you open.
She genuinely thought you could not possibly have come for her alone.
“Um… hi, Mother,” she said cautiously.
A pause
“I don’t know where Iroh is.”
You smiled, though your eyes already burned.
“I came for you.”
Zumi stared.
You opened your arms.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
She blinked once.
Twice.
“…why?”
Your chest physically hurt.
Not because she said it rudely
Because she said it honestly
A child confused by unsolicited affection. You crouched a little lower.
“No reason. Can't I just hug my daughter?”
She studied your face the way one studies a difficult puzzle. Then slowly stepped in.
Her body in your arms was stiff at first careful, polite.
As if she was participating in something ceremonial.
You held her anyway.
Softly
Not too tight
Long enough for her to understand you were not letting go immediately.
You kissed the top of her head.
“Let’s spend some time together today. Just us. What do you say?”
Her brow pinched.
“Am I in trouble?”
You closed your eyes for one tiny second.
How often had your attention toward her meant correction for this to be her first thought?
“No, sweetheart,” you whispered. “You’re not in trouble.” You held out your hand.
“It’s just been too long since we did something together. Something ours.”
There was hesitation
Then, carefully, she slipped her hand into yours.
You took her to the secluded garden
Your fire lily garden.
A place you had loved in solitude for years.
The morning breeze was warm and gentle, stirring the red petals in soft waves.
Sunlight spilled over the stone path in gold ribbons
Birds chattered somewhere in the fruit trees
Such a beautiful day
It felt like the kind of day that should heal things.
You wanted to show her something personal.
A memory
a softness
“These are fire lilies,” you explained as you knelt beside them. “My mother used to grow these when I was little.”
Zumi listened silently
You touched one blossom
“They’re delicate. They take months to grow. Every day you have to water them just right, trim the leaves, watch the soil. Too much heat and they die. Too little and they wilt.”
You smiled, fingers brushing the petals.
“They need time and patience.”
You were still talking when you turned..
..and froze.
Zumi was plucking them.
One by one..
The prettiest ones too...
Little fist full of red blossoms.
Your panic burst out before reason.
“Zumi!”
She jerked.
Flowers slipped from her hands.
“What are you doing?” you gasped. “I just told you these took me months to grow!”
Instantly she went still completely
The same way she always did.
Face blanking. Body bracing. Ready for scolding. Ready to run inside
And suddenly you saw it.
Not defiance. Fear.
You inhaled sharply and swallowed the rest of your frustration.
No.
No, not like before. It's not the way
You took one breath.
Then another
You crouched in front of her.
“Why were you picking them, sweetheart? I told you they were precious”
She stared at the ground.
Silence.
You softened your voice.
“You can tell me.”
A tiny whisper
"I don't know..."
She twisted her fingers together.
“...Father gives you flowers when you are sad sometimes.”
pause
You felt the blood drain from your face.
Oh.
Oh god
She had been trying to make you happy.
You looked at the scattered lilies on the dirt and suddenly wanted to sob.
You reached out and cupped her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
She looked startled.
“I shouldn’t have shouted.”
Zumi blinked.
As if she did not know what to do with an apology.
You carefully gathered the fallen flowers.
“Well,” you said with a trembling smile, “since they’re picked now… I suppose I should accept my gift.”
You held them to your chest dramatically.
“These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever been given.”
"But next time, let's go to the market to pick flowers, alright?"
A tiny uncertain flicker crossed her face.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
Very close.
"okay let's do something different then"
Inside, you decided on Pai Sho.
A quieter activity.
A seated activity.
Something that allowed teaching.
“Why don’t you sit?”
Zumi eyed the board.
“This is an old granny game for old people.”
A startled laugh escaped you.
“Anyone can play Pai Sho.”
“I don’t know how.”
“That’s alright. I’ll teach you.”
You sat down and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently lifted her into your lap.
The second she settled there, her entire body froze.
Rigid.
Like a startled cat.
You pretended not to notice
Did not tighten your hold
Did not make a fuss
Just began placing the tiles
“This one is the rose tile…”
Slowly, as the explanation continued, her shoulders loosened by fractions.
She listened intently.
Asked no questions, but watched every move.
When you explained the final rule, she pointed at the board.
“That’s how you win.”
You smiled into her hair.
“It’s not about winning. It’s about having fun.”
She turned her head to look at you as if you had spoken complete nonsense
Not about winning?
You almost smiled sadly. Of course she wouldn’t understand that.
For children who think praise is earned, I guess everything is a test or a competition
You began the game.
She made cautious moves.
You kept your voice warm.
“Oh, that was a smart move”
She glanced up instantly.
Searching your face.
You continued.
“You trapped me here, look at that.”
Another glance.
Another tiny inhale
You tickled her side lightly when she almost placed a tile wrong.
She squealed.
Actually squealed.
A surprised giggle bubbling out.
You did it again.
She wriggled and laughed harder.
And after each correct move she looked back at you.
Waiting.
Waiting for the thing she had learned to chase.
Praise.
You gave it.
“That was such a good move.”
“Oh, clever girl.”
“Are you sure this is your first time?”
Every single sentence made her sit a little less stiffly.
By the middle of the game, her back rested naturally against your chest.
Not tense
Not formal
Just there
And your eyes burnedd because such a tiny shift felt monumental.
“Mommy!”
The voice came like a cannonball
Iroh Jr. barreled into the room at full speed
You barely had time to lift your head
“Be careful, honey, don’t run -”
Too late.
He tripped directly onto the Pai Sho board...
Tiles flew everywhere
Zumi shot upright.
“No!”
Iroh blinked from the floor.
“ Sorry! I’ll pick it up! Can I play too?”
“No, you ruined the game!” Zumi snapped.
“It was an accident!”
“No it wasn’t!”
“Yes it was!”
Within seconds they were bickering, shoving little shoulders, batting hands.
You tried to intervene
“okay let's all calm down -”
Iroh instinctively crowded against your side.
Seeking protection like he has always done
Seeking the familiar shield of mother
You felt Zumi notice.
Saw the exact second her face hardened.
There it was again.
Brother gets the safe place. He gets defended.
She shoved Iroh.
He yelped.
“Zumi!”
And before you could reach her..
FWOOSH.
A burst of fire shot across the scattered Pai Sho board, lighting the paper tiles.
Flames danced.
Iroh squealed.
Zumi stared one second, breathing hard and
then ran.
Straight out of the room
You sighed shakily, gathering Iroh into your arms while servants rushed to smother the fire.
So close
You had been so close.
After settling Iroh in his room with toys and stern instructions not to run indoors like a wild komodo-rhino, you wandered the corridor feeling wrung out.
That was where you nearly collided with Zuko.
He was carrying a stack of council papers, hair half falling from its tie, brow furrowed. The second he saw you, his face softened.
“There you are, my love.”
He kissed your knuckles.
“So,” he asked lightly, “how is girls’ day going?”
Your eyes filled embarrassingly fast. You laughed once broken.
“I am failing miserably.”
Concern replaced amusement instantly. He set the papers aside and pulled you against him. You sagged into his chest.
“I keep doing everything wrong,” you whispered. He rubbed your back.
“No,” he murmured. “You are learning.”
“I shouted at her over flowers. Then she burned Pai Sho.”
He huffed a soft laugh into your hair despite himself.
You smacked his chest weakly.
“This is not funny!”
“it is a little funny”
You glared and he kissed your forehead.
“The fact that you are trying already changes something,” he said quietly. “Trust doesn’t grow in one morning.”
You closed your eyes. His next words came softer.
“Make it small. Children understand small things better than grand gestures.”
You nodded against him.
Small things.
Right.
Okay you got this.
After you left, steadier than before, Zuko picked up his papers and continued down the hall.
Passing the children’s room, he heard voices and paused.
The door was cracked.
Inside, the children had clearly migrated there after the Pai Sho disaster.
“Give it back, Zumi!” Iroh shouted.
“Try to take it if you are soo strong,” Zumi taunted, dangling his toy glider Uncle Aang had gifted him.
“I’m telling mom!”
“You are so easy to pick on, Iroh. It’s almost funny.”
Zuko sighed looking away and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Then from the kids' bedroom -
clear as if whispered beside his ear-
he heard:
“Don’t be such a baby, Zuzu.”
He went rigid.
Every muscle locked.
His eyes widened
His head snapped toward the room instantly
The children had gone strangely quiet.
Only normal rustling now.
No one had said anything.
But his chest was suddenly tight.
His breathing shallow.
Azula’s voice.
He stepped back from the doorway, shaken.
This was getting into his head.
Too little sleep, too much paperwork, too much worry.
That had to be it.
Still, as he walked away, his hands trembled.
....
Later that afternoon, after taking several calming breaths and deciding not every interaction needed to be an event, you found Zumi alone in a side courtyard.
She was making little bursts of fire dance between her fingers.
Quietly. Concentrating.
“Zumiii,” you called softly.
She looked over.
Still slightly wary.
You crouched.
“Aren’t you tired?”
She shrugged.
“Come relax with me a bit.”
No response. You lowered yourself more dramatically.
“You are going to walk? But you are a princess. That seems highly inappropriate.”
A blink.
“I can walk.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” You swooped in before she could protest and lifted her into your arms.
A tiny gasp left her.
Not upset.
Just surprised.
You carried her all the way back to your room while she stared at you like this was some baffling royal kidnapping.
In your chambers you sat before the mirror with her in your lap.
“I’m going to do your hair it's a bit messy.”
She looked alarmed.
You laughed softly.
“Yes, yes, I know. Dangerous. I promise Ill be good.”
You began combing gently.
There were tangles.
Several.
You worked through them carefully.
Every so often you caught her eyes in the mirror.
She was already looking at you.
Big curious gold eyes.
Studying your face.
As if trying to understand this new version of mother.
“Sorry,” you murmured when you tugged one knot. “Did that hurt?”
She shook her head.
You continued, twisting little sections, pinning them.
Not perfect.
A little crooked.
You finally leaned back dramatically.
"Ta-da."
"it's done!!!"
She stared at her reflection.
Touched the braid.You bit your lip.
“I haven’t done this before, so it may not be perfect.”
A pause
“What do you think?”
She looked at herself another moment.
Then, very quietly
“I like it.”
Your breath caught.
Not because of the words.
Because while saying them, she leaned back.
Naturally.
Her small body settling against your chest.
No stiffness.
No freezing.
Just.. resting there.
Trusting the hold.
It was slight.
So slight anyone else might have missed it.
But you felt it like sunrise after endless night. You kissed the crown of her head. Held her a little closer.
And as you looked at the two of you in the mirror your hands in her little torso, her body slowly learning your lap was a safe place you understood something important.
Healing was not going to be dramatic. There would be no one magical hug that erased months.
No one apology that rewrote habits. It would be this.
A flower accepted instead of scolded. A game played. A child carried. Hair braided.
One small gesture after another.
Trust built the same way fire lilies bloomed.
With patience
With daily care
With time.
You were willing now.
Willing to try every day.
As many days as it took.
And for the first time since Zuko spoke to you last night..
...you believed your daughter might someday stop asking why when you opened your arms.
The same night
The Palace was silent, save for the rhythmic, heavy breathing of sleep. You lay tucked beneath the silk sheets, finally claimed by the exhaustion of the day’s emotional gymnastics.
But Zuko remained in the threshold between memory and reality.
He slid out from under the covers with the practiced grace of a man used to moving in shadows. He didn't light the torches. the Fire Lord had no need for flint and steel after all.
He moved to the heavy writing desk near the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor
Holding his hand over a small stone dish, he created a tiny, dancing flame. It was low and steady, casting long, flickering shadows against the tapestries, placing it in the candle. He pulled a piece of parchment from the drawer, his movements frantic yet deliberate.
The brush scratched against the paper, the sound loud in the hollow silence of the room.
...
Today I watched my daughter stand very still after being scolded, and I forgot what year it was.
For one second the garden was not my garden.
It was ours.
The way the kids bicker, it’s like a haunting. Iroh is loud and clumsy and demands the world be his stage, and Zumi… Zumi watches him with those eyes that are far too sharp for a child that young. She looks at him like he’s a puzzle she’s already solved, or a threat she has to manage. It makes my chest lock up. I had to stop and breathe until my lungs burned just to keep from shaking.
She’s trying hard.. Not to be a child, but to be perfect. She thinks love is a wage she has to earn. She thinks her mother’s arms are a place she needs an invitation to enter.
She tried to be kind today actually. She picked flowers, and when she was scolded, she didn't cry. She just.. disappeared inside herself. I’ve seen that face before...I see it every time I look in a mirror and think of the years before the scar. But mostly I see it when I remember the girl who used to hide her own heart behind a wall of blue fire because she thought softness was a death sentence.
I wish I could go back. I wish I could reach through the years and grab that stupid, angry boy by the shoulders and tell him to look closer. To see that your cruelty was just a scream for help that no one wanted to hear. But I was a child. And children are stupid. We were both just children, drowning in a house that wanted us to burn.
I see the damage now. It’s a ghost in my hallways. It’s in the way my daughter flinches when she’s noticed. I am trying to undo it. She is trying to undo it. But God, some days it feels unbearable.
I heard your voice today. Just for a second. It sounded like home, or like a funeral.
You keep appearing in my dreams...
I hope you're at peace, wherever your mind has taken you. I hope you aren't cold.
Your brother,
Your Zuzu
Zuko stared at the signature until the ink dried. The "Zuzu" was shaky, the characters slightly blurred.
He didn't move to send it. There was nowhere to send it abyway.
He lowered his hand.
The silence of the room was heavy, thick with the scent of extinguished candle wax and the lingering salt of Zuko’s private grief.
He sat at the desk, his eyes tracing the lines of the letter he had just written, a bridge made of ink to a sister who was lost in a different kind of darkness. He felt raw, his skin sensitive to the cool night air, his heart still thrumming with the echo of his sister's phantom voice.
He didn't hear the door creak. Because it didn't. Zumi moved like a predator or a prayer in this case, entirely without sound.
She stood in the sliver of moonlight cutting across the threshold. Her small hand was pressed against the cold stone of the doorframe, her knuckles white.
She had woken up from s nightmare.
Usually, she would just stare at the ceiling until the sun rose. That was the "strong" thing to do. That was what a Princess did.
But she had seen Iroh Jr. stomp into this room with muddy feet and tear-stained cheeks, and she had seen the way your arms opened like it was the most natural reflex in the world.
She stood there, a tiny shadow in the dark, debating the cost of a hug.
"Zumi..."
The voice was yours thick with sleep, soft as velvet. You had shifted in the large bed, the silk sheets rustling. You weren't fully awake, but a mother’s instinct is a light sleeper.
Zuko flinched, his head snapping up. He looked at you, startled, and then followed your gaze to the doorway.
His breath hitched. He hadn't even sensed her. The sight of her, so small, so hesitant, looking like a forgotten doll in the middle of the vast, dark palace, hit him harder than any blow in a duel ever could.
He stood up immediately, the chair scraping softly against the rug. He didn't say a word. He didn't want to startle her further. He crossed the room in three long strides and knelt.
Zuko didn't give her a chance to talk. He simply slid his hands under her arms and lifted her. She was so light. Too light. He tucked her head into the crook of his neck, his hand supporting her small back, and carried her toward the bed.
He approached your side of the bed. You sat up slightly, blinking away the fog of sleep, and opened your arms. It wasn't a question. It was a command of grace.
"come here" you murmured.
Zuko handed her over. You pulled her into the center of the bed, tucking the heavy duvet around her tiny frame. You laid back down, drawing her into the curve of your body, her head against your neck,her dark hair resting on you.
"What happened?"
you asked, your voice a sleepy, rhythmic hum. You began to pat her back slow, steady thumps that mimicked a heartbeat.
"Nothing," Zumi whispered. The lie was habitual, a defense mechanism she wore like armor.
"Did you have a bad dream, hmm?"
Zumi didn't answer with words. Instead, she turned around in your arms, burying her face into the crook of your neck, hiding from the world, from the darkness, or even from the memory of the dream.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh the kind that comes from a place of pure, overwhelming love. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I've got you."
Within minutes, the exhaustion of her own hyper vigilance claimed her. Her breathing evened out, her small hands loosening their grip on your nightgown.
You followed her shortly after, drifting back into a dreamless rest, anchored by the weight of your daughter in your arms.
Zuko stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for a long time, watching.
He looked at your face, softened by sleep, and then at Zumi. In the dim light, she looked so much like him the same brow, the same stubborn set of her jaw even in sleep. But here, in your arms, the "soldier" had vanished. She was just a little girl who had finally decided that it was okay to be afraid.
He looked back at the desk, at the letter addressed as "Zuzu." He thought about his son, sleeping soundly in his room. Normally, Zuko would wander down the hall to bring his son.
But not tonight.
Tonight, the silence felt earned. The space in the bed felt sacred. Zumi had taken a step toward them a tiny, shivering step through the dark and she needed to wake up and find that the space was still hers. That she didn't have to share the air with anyone else to be seen.
Zuko stood, walked back to the desk, and with a gentle wave of his hand, snuffed out the tiny flame in the stone dish. The room plunged into shadows, but it wasn't cold anymore.
He climbed into the bed on the other side of Zumi, surrounding her. He rested his hand over yours which was resting on your daughters back.
We’re doing it, he thought, his eyes finally closing.
We’re bringing her home..