There’s just so much I don’t even know where to start, what to watch, read, etc. Could someone help me and maybe give me some tips and advice? I hope I’m not too late to the Fandom. 😔
alot has happened in ncity.. as we know. and i haven't written anything since new years, but i have some stuff im cooking up in the drafts. the emotaeyongie drought will be over soon.
peace and love <3
i have a ton of ideas right now but im mainly thinking of writing for either haechan or hendery, (or possibly- yangyang.)
i know i mainly did texting fics, but i've always been more invested in actual writing, so there will be more of those! (but im not discontinuing my text ones- i do think they're funny)
i will see you all soon! and make sure to be tuned in for jaehyun's comeback and wayv's (alleged?) comeback! love u
Fire Prince Donghyuck x Water Princess Reader - Arranged Marriage (smut)(repost)
The Fire Prince and Water Princess are set to be married for a political alliance so both countries can be at peace, but maybe it turns into something more...
ATLA inspired!
11.8k, unprotected sex, shower sex, dirty talk, making out, sexual tension
----------------
The palace air was thick with formality and tension. Crystal waves carved along the ceiling of the Water Kingdom's great hall, the cool breeze enchanted through the walls to keep guests comfortable. And yet, the moment Fire Prince Haechan stepped into the chamber, everything felt warmer.
Y/N inhaled sharply.
There he was.
The man she was bound to marry.
She hadn’t known what to expect—only vague reports from her advisors. “He’s clever.” “He’s temperamental.” “He speaks like the sun glows for him.” Not one of them had said beautiful.
But he was. Unfairly so.
Sun-kissed skin glowed golden under the morning light. His shoulder-length brown hair was swept back, exposing his forehead, which gave him a princely aura—but his eyes held mischief, like he knew every dirty secret the world had to offer. His uniform was red and black, trimmed in gold, hugging his frame, collar just low enough to hint at a toned chest. His lips curved when he caught her staring.
Smirking. He’s smirking.
Y/N straightened her spine, eyes narrowing. She was a princess of the tides, trained not to flinch under pressure—certainly not at a cocky fire prince with a gaze that wandered too slow, too low.
And wander he did.
Haechan felt his chest tighten as he looked at her. Fuck.
She was stunning.
Silky hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, skin glowing like it had been kissed by moonlight, lips perfectly pink, full and glossy. Her eyes caught him like a current, hard to look away from, especially when they sparkled with challenge. She wore a soft blue ceremonial gown, fitted at the waist, water jewels stitched into the bodice that shimmered when she moved. Haechan let his gaze travel down—just enough to note the soft swell of her chest under the fabric, before returning lazily to her face.
He liked the way she bristled.
“I take it you’re Princess Y/N,” he said, his voice low, smooth like slow-burning embers.
Y/N tilted her chin. “And you must be Prince Haechan. I expected someone taller.”
His brows lifted, lips twitching. “I expected someone... less cold.”
“I am the daughter of water,” she replied with a cool smile. “I run deep.”
Their parents, engaged in stiff conversation a few feet away, seemed unaware of the verbal sparring. The two royal families had kept their distance for centuries, water and fire locked in uneasy rivalry. This marriage was supposed to seal the first treaty between their kingdoms.
A symbol of peace.
Yet standing here, with their eyes clashing like flame against ocean, it felt anything but peaceful.
“I suppose we’re supposed to smile and look grateful,” Haechan said under his breath, voice pitched for her alone. “Pretend this is what we wanted.”
Y/N resisted the urge to glance at his lips. “Isn’t it?”
He leaned in just slightly, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for a stranger.”
She didn’t flinch. “Neither did I.”
A beat of silence passed, heavy with awareness. Somewhere behind them, her father mentioned something about ceremonial customs, his voice clipped and formal.
Y/N finally looked away.
But she could still feel Haechan's gaze on her.
Lingering.
Burning.
The meeting adjourned with stiff handshakes and overly polite smiles. The adults discussed ceremony details, treaties, dowries. But Haechan didn’t care about any of it.
Not when she was walking beside him, her chin high, her lips pressed tight in practiced serenity.
They were shown into a private chamber for “acquaintance and bonding,” the advisors said, as if either of them could relax under the weight of centuries of political tension and a wedding in seven days.
The moment the doors closed, Y/N turned to him.
“I think it’s best we set expectations now,” she said evenly, voice calm, practiced. “This marriage is a symbol. A duty. Nothing more.”
Haechan raised a brow. “Nothing more?”
She nodded once, folding her hands delicately in front of her. “We’re doing this for our people. So I’d like our relationship to reflect that. Respectful. Professional. No unnecessary intimacy.”
He blinked once, then laughed—sharp and amused, the sound low and rich like a crackling flame.
She frowned. “What’s funny?”
“You,” he said, grinning. “This whole ‘professional relationship’ thing. You say it like you don’t feel it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Feel what?”
He stepped a little closer, voice dropping. “The heat. You don’t feel it yet, do you?”
She sucked in a breath, cheeks flushing pink. “I feel nothing of the sort.”
“Sure,” he said casually, stepping back with a smirk. “Whatever you want, Princess.”
Y/N bristled. The way he said Princess—so smooth, so mocking—it made her blood boil in the worst way. He wasn’t taking any of this seriously. Just like the rumors said: Prince Haechan, the Fire Kingdom’s cocky golden boy. Spoiled, reckless, dangerously charming.
Her gaze flicked to the floor, frustrated, then back up—just in time to catch him staring at her hand.
At the delicate silver ring on her finger.
She stiffened.
“What’s that?” he asked, his tone curious but sharper now. His eyes locked on the band with a seriousness that hadn’t been there a second ago.
Y/N’s entire body went tense. “None of your business.”
His gaze snapped back to her face. And then—
He grinned.
Slowly. Like a match being struck.
“Oh,” he said, eyes dragging down her figure now with less subtlety. “Oh.”
Y/N’s cheeks went crimson. “Don’t you dare—”
“A purity ring,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ve got one of those?”
She turned away, scoffing. “You’re so full of yourself. I knew the rumors were true.”
Haechan crossed his arms, still smirking, voice cocky. “They usually are. But... it seems like you’re into that.”
She gasped, spinning back around. “You’re insane!”
But he just leaned against the nearest pillar, looking entirely too pleased with himself as she stormed toward the door.
“See you next week, soon-to-be-wife,” he called as she yanked it open.
Y/N didn’t look back.
But Haechan stayed where he was, hands in his pockets, heart thudding faster than he’d like to admit.
He hadn’t expected to want her. Not really. Not like that.
And now? Now all he could think was:
Shit.
I’m going to enjoy this.
---------------
The Water Kingdom had never seen a ceremony like this.
Petals floated in the enchanted air, suspended like glittering snowflakes that shimmered as they caught the light. An orchestra played gentle strings, the melody laced with old hymns from both kingdoms—fire and water woven together for the first time. The entire capital had gathered beyond the palace gates, watching the union of two enemies turned allies. Of two strangers turned husband and wife.
Y/N stood at the edge of the marble aisle, her gown flowing like a tide around her feet. The pale silk hugged her figure before cascading into layers of sheer, iridescent fabric. Tiny crystals had been stitched into the sleeves and train, catching the light with every step she took. Her hair was woven into an elegant twist, a delicate water lily tucked just behind her ear.
She didn’t tremble. She didn’t frown.
But her heart was pounding.
When the palace doors opened and she stepped inside, the entire room inhaled.
Including Haechan.
He stood at the altar in deep crimson ceremonial robes tailored perfectly to his frame, the collar low and lined in gold, his hair brushed back again, a warm firestone pin glittering at his chest. But it wasn’t his outfit that made her breath catch.
It was the way he looked at her.
Like the whole world had shifted.
She stopped in front of him, eyes meeting his—nervous, unsure—and he leaned forward slightly, the officiator’s voice just beginning in the background.
“You’re beautiful,” Haechan whispered.
Y/N blinked.
Her lips parted in surprise—then curved into the softest smile. “Thank you.”
They joined hands, his palm warm against hers, fingers curling gently. She expected arrogance, some smirking joke. Instead, he held her like she mattered. Like this mattered.
When it came time for vows, Haechan surprised her again.
He didn’t stumble, didn’t look smug or bored. He spoke clearly, gaze fixed on hers like she was the only person in the room.
“I promise to protect you,” he said quietly, voice low and serious. “To stand beside you, and not in front or behind. I’ll give you the life you deserve—not just as a princess or queen, but as yourself. I’ll learn to love what you love. I’ll fight for what you believe in.”
Y/N's throat tightened. The words were simple, but… honest. No performance.
She spoke her vows just as softly, her eyes shining by the time they finished.
When the officiator declared them husband and wife, Haechan stepped closer.
His hand lifted, fingertips brushing her chin as he tilted it up. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the strange intimacy of this moment—before their first kiss had even begun. He didn’t rush it. He just looked at her like he needed to remember this.
And then he kissed her.
Slow. Sweet. Just a brush of mouths.
But it left her a little breathless anyway.
When they pulled apart, they were both smiling.
The crowd erupted into cheers, and they descended the stairs, hands still joined, fireworks beginning to blossom in the skies above the palace dome.
Their first dance was held in the grand ballroom, golden chandeliers flickering with soft flame, enchanted rain dancing just outside the windows.
Everyone watched.
But Y/N didn’t care. Not when he held her waist gently, pulling her in.
They swayed together, slowly.
And for a second, it didn’t feel like duty. It didn’t feel like obligation.
Just… warmth.
She leaned in closer, voice soft by his ear. “Did you mean it?”
Haechan pulled back to look at her. “Mean what?”
“Your vows.”
He smiled—just a little—his voice a quiet rasp. “Every word.”
She stared at him, eyes searching, lips barely parted.
Then he leaned in again, his next words brushing hot against the shell of her ear.
“I don’t do or say anything caring what anyone thinks.”
When she pulled back to look at him again, there was a new look in her eyes.
Something uncertain.
Something intrigued.
And Haechan—
Well.
He hadn’t planned to care.
But now?
Now, he was starting to.
----------------
The royal island estate was made for beauty. For romance.
The white-sand shores curved along crystal waters, untouched and hidden from the world. Their private villa sat atop a lush hill, its wide balcony wrapped in flowing curtains, overlooking a sea that shimmered under the starlight.
It was paradise.
And it was hers.
Theirs.
Y/N stood in the doorway of the master suite, barefoot on the polished wood, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
One room.
One bed.
Of course.
The servants had filled the space with soft candles, flowers from both kingdoms twined into garlands across the carved headboard. A silver tray of wine and fruits sat untouched on the low table. And in the center of it all, that massive, silken bed.
Y/N didn’t look at Haechan. Not at first.
But she could feel him behind her. The warmth of him. The weight.
She could hear him unbuttoning his jacket, dropping it somewhere behind her with a casual sigh.
“Pretty place,” he murmured.
She swallowed. “It’s a tradition. Every royal marriage ends with a retreat to one of the sacred islands.”
“I like it.”
Y/N finally turned. Haechan had loosened his collar, kicked off his boots. The sunset behind him made his tan skin glow like embers, and when he met her eyes, he smirked faintly.
“Are you going to sleep in that gown?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Want help deciding?”
Her jaw tightened. “We’re married now. I thought you’d be less irritating.”
He walked past her, slow and sure, brushing her shoulder with his as he moved toward the bed. “That’s the thing about marriage, Princess,” he said, tossing himself down across the mattress. “Now I get to irritate you for the rest of your life.”
She turned away, cheeks warm.
She wasn’t afraid of the wedding night. She’d prepared for it. She’d assumed, expected, that it would happen now. That he would try.
And yet—he didn’t move.
He just laid there, one arm propped behind his head, watching her with something unreadable in his eyes.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Aren’t you…?”
Haechan tilted his head. “Aren’t I what?”
“Going to… consummate the marriage?”
A pause.
Then—that smile again.
“Didn’t you say you wanted this to be professional?” he asked, feigning confusion. “Strictly duty?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You—”
He sat up slowly, voice dropping low, slow like smoke curling around her spine.
“I won’t touch you,” he said, eyes locked on hers, “until you’re crying for it.”
Y/N froze.
A breath caught in her throat. She gasped softly, like the air had been pulled from the room.
“You’re insane,” she hissed, stepping back instinctively. “That won’t happen.”
He just laid back again, smug and glowing and dangerous. “Sure, Princess. Whatever you say.”
Fuming, she stomped toward the bed, grabbing every pillow she could and stacking them straight down the center—walling him off.
“You’re impossible.”
He didn’t stop chuckling until she was under the covers, back to him, arms folded.
With a flick of his fingers, the lantern blew out.
Darkness settled around them, soft and thick.
The ocean whispered beyond the open balcony. Wind danced through the trees.
And in the silence, Y/N lay awake far too long, heart racing, skin hot, aware of the fact that on the other side of that ridiculous pillow wall—
Was her husband.
Smirking in the dark.
Waiting.
“This is ridiculous,” Y/N muttered as they strolled through the winding gardens of the island villa the next morning, sunlight glinting through the palm leaves. “We’re doing everything backwards.”
Haechan looked over at her, sipping lazily from a chilled coconut. “What do you mean?”
She gestured vaguely. “We got married first. Now we’re dating and getting to know each other.”
He grinned. “Better than dating first and then realizing the sex is bad.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You—!”
“Kidding,” he said, very much not kidding, eyes gleaming as he tossed the coconut aside and leaned closer. “Mostly.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and kept walking, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.
They spent the late morning exploring the island’s hidden paths and secret groves, followed by a private lunch on a terrace carved into the cliffs, overlooking the turquoise sea. The food was decadent — grilled mango-glazed fish, warm honeyed bread, spiced vegetables — but it was the company that made her heart beat too fast.
She hated how easy it was with him.
Hated how they laughed, how he teased her into smiling when she didn’t want to, how he challenged everything she said and meant it, how—despite the heat between them—he still hadn’t made a single move.
It made her feel insane.
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?” she asked dryly, pushing her plate away.
“Not when I’m saying interesting things.”
“You don’t say interesting things.”
“I said you were beautiful.”
“That’s just lazy flattery.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” he replied with a wink.
She flushed and stood. “I’m going swimming.”
His brows lifted. “Without me?”
“Obviously.”
But of course, he followed.
—
The private lagoon was quiet, hidden away by thick jungle. A soft waterfall spilled into the blue-green pool, mist catching the sun in delicate bursts of light.
Y/N dove in first, sleek and fluid like she was born for the water. Her hair trailed behind her like seaweed, her limbs graceful and easy. Haechan watched from the edge, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.
“Are you part siren?” he asked as she resurfaced. “Be honest.”
“No,” she called back, smoothing her wet hair over her shoulder. “Just better than you at this.”
“I’d argue,” he said, stripping off his shirt and stepping into the water, “but I’m too distracted.” His eyes raked up and down her body.
She turned—just in time to see him walking in, sun casting his body in sharp lines, muscles flexing as he moved. Her eyes dipped briefly, involuntarily, before snapping away.
“You’re disgusting.”
He laughed. “And you’re still staring.”
Y/N splashed him without mercy. He took it with a grin, wading deeper until the water reached his waist.
But then—
He looked at her.
Really looked.
Dripping, glowing, bare shoulders rising and falling with each breath. The water hugged her body, translucent fabric floating up, revealing the soft swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. Her skin shimmered in the light like polished pearls.
Haechan felt the air leave his lungs.
That’s mine, he thought, shocked.
That beautiful, clever, infuriating girl—was his.
His wife.
He let his gaze trail down again, slower this time. No shame. No apology.
And when she caught him?
She glared. “You’re not even trying to hide it.”
He grinned lazily, voice low and teasing. “Why would I?”
Then, leaning back in the water, he added:
“I might’ve married you out of duty, Princess…” His gaze raked her once more. “But I’m still the real winner.”
Y/N looked away with a scoff, swimming farther out.
But her thighs pressed together under the water.
She hated that she could feel it—the heat between her legs, the thrum in her chest, the pull of his voice like a flame licking just close enough to burn.
And she hated most of all that…
She didn’t hate it.
The sun hung low, casting golden ribbons across the lagoon. The water shimmered like glass, warm and still. The sound of the waterfall had become background music to their laughter, their bickering, their shared silence.
They floated near the edge now, side by side.
Y/N laid back on the surface, letting her arms stretch wide, hair fanned out in the water like seafoam.
Haechan was close enough to touch. Close enough to feel. But for once, he was quiet.
“You never told me,” Y/N said softly, eyes on the sky. “How you reacted. When you found out.”
He blinked. “Found out what?”
“About the marriage. The arrangement.”
A pause.
Then: “Oh. That.”
His voice was too casual, too cool.
She turned her head to look at him.
He sighed. “Honestly? I was annoyed. Felt like I was being traded. Like I didn’t get a say in something that would affect the rest of my life.”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“Felt like a trap,” he added with a crooked smile. “And I hate traps.”
She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“What about you?” he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Y/N took a moment.
“I was scared.”
The words left her lips like a confession.
“I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know what kind of man you’d be. I just kept thinking—what if he’s cruel? What if he’s angry all the time? What if he tries to break me?”
Haechan’s smile vanished.
Gone in an instant.
He straightened slightly, suddenly all sharp breath and stillness, his brows furrowing.
He hadn’t thought of that.
He hadn't thought of her fear.
How terrifying it must’ve been, being promised to a stranger—especially one from a nation known for their fire. Their temper. Their history.
She hadn’t just been afraid of the marriage.
She’d been afraid of him.
And yet here she was. Laughing with him. Swimming beside him. Still giving him that cold, smart mouth—but with softness behind it now.
He reached out.
Took her hand beneath the water.
“I’d never hurt you,” he said quietly. “And I’d never force you into anything.”
Y/N’s eyes searched his face. He was all boyish beauty still—but for once, the smirk was gone. His jaw was tight, his gaze serious. Protective.
Her heart cracked a little.
“I know,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.
The moment held between them like a delicate ripple.
Then he let go.
“I’m gonna shower,” he said quickly, pulling away.
Y/N watched as he climbed out of the water, water trailing down his back, the sun outlining every sculpted line of his body.
But her chest felt hollow.
The second he was gone, the pool felt colder. Quieter. Like the heat had been drained from the air entirely.
She sank lower into the water, pulling her knees to her chest.
And whispered to herself:
“…I miss your warmth.”
--------------
The morning sun painted soft golden lines across the veranda, the air warm and scented with sea breeze and tropical fruit. Their plates were nearly empty — mango slices, toasted honey bread, and cups of steaming jasmine tea sitting untouched now as the silence between them settled into something unusually comfortable.
Y/N sipped her tea, stealing glances at Haechan as he tilted back in his chair, shirt loose, collar open, hair still slightly damp from his morning shower. He looked impossibly smug for someone doing absolutely nothing.
“You’re too quiet,” he muttered without looking at her. “What are you plotting?”
“Nothing,” she said, voice soft but firm.
“Liar.”
“Arrogant.”
He smirked. “Flirt.”
Before she could respond, her foot caught on the leg of the chair as she stood, her body tilting awkwardly to the side. She gasped—
—and landed right into him.
Strong arms closed around her waist instantly, catching her like it was nothing.
Time froze.
Their faces were close. Too close.
Y/N blinked up at him, chest pressed to his, the heat of his skin radiating around her like he was the sun. Her breath caught. Her fingers were curled on his shoulders, gripping instinctively.
And Gods, he was warm.
Not just physically — elementally. It buzzed under his skin. Alive. Like standing in front of a campfire with no escape.
He looked at her, amused.
“Well,” he said quietly. “If you wanted to throw yourself at me, Princess, you could’ve just said so.”
Y/N’s face flushed. She yanked her hands back and stepped away, nearly tripping again in the process. “It was an accident.”
“Sure.” He leaned back against the table, arms folded lazily. “But if you ever do want to touch me, all you have to do is ask.”
“Keep dreaming.”
“I do. Every night.”
She picked up her teacup just to have something to throw at his head. He dodged easily, laughing.
The rest of breakfast dissolved into their usual chaos — him teasing, her snapping back with sharp, witty insults. But under it all, Haechan could barely hide his grin.
He loved this.
Loved the way she didn’t just tolerate him — she fought him. Matched him word for word, glare for glare, and looked so damn pretty doing it.
He leaned in, elbows on the table, chin resting in his palm as she pretended to read the itinerary the attendants had left for them.
“Tell me again,” he said casually, “how you think I’m insufferable.”
She didn’t look up. “You’re egotistical. Loud. You smirk too much. You flirt with everything. You have a god complex.”
His grin stretched wider. “You forgot devastatingly handsome.”
“I was getting there.”
“Mm,” he hummed, watching her lips. “You think I’m hot, don’t you?”
Y/N finally looked up. “I think the heat from your ego is melting this entire island.”
He barked a laugh, the sound warm and happy and annoyingly attractive.
And deep down, Y/N knew: she didn’t hate this.
She didn’t hate him.
Not even a little.
In fact… she was starting to enjoy this game.
Even if it left her thighs pressed together under the table and her thoughts drifting to the way his hands had felt on her waist.
---------------------
They hadn’t spoken much at the beginning. Just exchanged a few awkward nods before the instructor gestured for them to step onto the circular wooden floor, dimly lit by rows of candles in red and blue glass.
“Today,” the instructor smiled, “you’ll learn the Fire-Water Unity Dance. It’s a tradition meant to express harmony through contrast—strength through surrender, resistance through flow.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So... a fight?”
Haechan grinned. “More like foreplay.”
She elbowed him, but he only laughed, not even pretending to apologize.
Then the music began—deep drums for the fire, slow strings for the water. The instructor moved around them, guiding their bodies into position. Haechan’s hand found her waist first—warm and firm. She braced herself for the heat, but it still startled her—the way his touch burned even through layers of fabric.
His other hand took hers, fingers sliding into place like he’d done this a hundred times. She glanced up to see him watching her, not the instructor.
“You’re warm,” she whispered.
He smirked. “You’re cold. Guess we fit.”
The movements started slow. A step forward, a sweep to the side. Haechan’s palm slid from her waist to the small of her back, guiding her, pulling her into him with each breath. Y/N tried to focus on the rhythm, the meaning behind the steps, but her mind kept scattering—burning alive from the nearness of his body, from the teasing brush of his thigh against hers as they spun.
The dance wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t meant to be.
It was intimate.
Every step placed them chest to chest, then spun them apart, then back again. Her skirt flared, and Haechan caught it mid-air, eyes dropping to the skin of her thigh before he returned to form. His smirk deepened when she stumbled.
“Nervous?” he murmured.
“You wish.”
His hand slid up her back again, fingers spreading at the base of her neck. “Maybe I do.”
The instructor circled them again, correcting their posture. “Closer,” she told Y/N, gently nudging her toward Haechan. “Let him feel your balance.”
Y/N pressed closer. Her chest brushed his, and Haechan bit back a sound, one of his hands flexing on her waist like he was barely holding it together.
Her heart pounded. It wasn’t the music or the movement—it was him, all of him, his heat, his breath, his words. His hand slid lower when they turned again, thumb brushing the top of her backside, his lips next to her ear.
“You’re sweating,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I like the way you smell.”
Y/N made the mistake of glancing up at him. His eyes burned. She felt her legs falter just a bit—he caught her, smirking again.
“I got you,” he said, cocky and sure, spinning her back into his arms.
By the time the music faded, her entire body felt like it was trembling. Her cheeks were flushed, her pulse wild. The instructor gave them a pleased nod and excused herself to grab water.
As soon as the door closed behind her, silence settled over them like heavy smoke.
They stood there, breathless.
Y/N’s hands were still against his chest.
Haechan was staring.
And then—“Don’t you wanna kiss me?”
She blinked, lips parting. “Don’t you wannna kiss me?” She repeated.
His mouth twitched. But this time it wasn’t a tease. “Actually… yeah. I do.”
He took a step closer, giving her time to stop him.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
His hand cupped her jaw gently, thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned in. His lips met hers softly at first—so soft it made her breath hitch. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t demanding. It was warm, languid, testing. But then she kissed him back—hungrily, breathlessly—and he groaned into her mouth.
The hand on her waist pulled her flush against him. Her hands slid into his hair. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and when she let him in, he kissed her like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as he sucked on her lower lip, then tilted his head to deepen it, pressing his thigh between hers.
Y/N moaned softly, the sound lost into his mouth.
That’s when—
The door creaked.
They jerked apart, faces flushed, lips swollen.
The instructor froze in the doorway, clearly registering the scene, but politely looking away.
Y/N was mortified, gasping as she stumbled back.
The instructor cleared her throat. “We’ll... pick up again tomorrow.”
As she walked past, Y/N covered her face.
But from behind her, Haechan whispered, smug and low, “Next time, princess... I’m not stopping.”
The moon hung low and silver, casting a gentle glow across the private royal bungalow nestled in the jungle. The sea breeze slipped through the open windows, rustling the white curtains like ghostly dancers. Inside, all was still—except for Haechan.
He sat in the woven rattan chair by the open balcony doors, cradling a crystal glass of sweet, dark Fire Nation whiskey, gaze locked on the sleeping figure in their bed.
Y/N lay on her side, face soft and peaceful in the lamplight, hair fanned across the silk pillowcase. One hand was curled under her cheek, the other rested gently over her chest, the glint of her wedding band catching the light with every slow breath. Haechan could make out the delicate blue and silver bracelet her mother had given her, still wrapped around her wrist.
She looked… untouched. Serene. Sacred.
And it was killing him.
He ran a hand down his face, then through his hair, the whiskey burning down his throat like it was trying to match the heat pulsing inside him. He was going insane. He could still taste her from the kiss they'd stolen, feel the pressure of her body against his during the dance. Her curves. Her breathy laugh. Her stubbornness. Her soft moan. The pillow wall was still up between them at night, but every morning he woke up with his hips pressed against it, her body just inches away.
Now, watching her in the moonlight, purity written across every line of her body, his chest twisted in something that felt nothing like lust.
He might be falling for his wife.
-------------
The next morning came far too quickly.
Y/N stood at the docks dressed in her traditional Water Tribe blue—layers of hand-stitched silk swirling around her like waves, hair intricately braided by her mother’s hands. Her father kissed her forehead; her youngest sibling clung to her waist, trying not to cry. The ocean sparkled behind them like a painting, the same one she grew up with, the same one she was leaving behind.
“I’ll write you every week,” she promised, her voice shaking, pulling her mother in for one last tight hug. “And I’ll visit whenever they allow it.”
Her mother sniffled and nodded. “Just remember who you are. Your heart belongs to the sea, but now you’ll have fire beside it too.”
Y/N turned to Haechan, who had given her space but hadn’t taken his eyes off her. He knew what she was giving up. Her culture, her home, the safety of being surrounded by people who understood her without words. And she was coming with him, to a kingdom where the air smelled of smoke and stone and the palace halls were always too hot.
As she stepped onto the ship beside him, Haechan slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze.
“I know it’s not fair,” he said quietly. “But I promise to make it feel like home.”
The Fire Nation palace was majestic—soaring ceilings, carved stone hallways, crimson tapestries that caught the firelight. But it wasn’t home.
Not for her.
At dinner, she sat stiffly, dressed in unfamiliar fabrics, her appetite lost to nerves. The servants presented spicy grilled meats, fire-roasted vegetables, dishes sizzling with heat and oil. Haechan noticed her hesitance immediately.
He leaned over and whispered, “I had them make something else for you.”
Moments later, a new tray was carried in: slow-simmered seal stew, moon peach tarts, iced berry nectar—all from the Northern Water Tribe.
Y/N blinked at the spread, lips parting in shock. “You remembered?”
He nodded, a little sheepish. “I paid attention during that history lesson on our date. And maybe... asked your mom and the cook for a few recipes before we left.”
Her eyes welled up for a moment, but she blinked quickly and leaned in to kiss his cheek—quick, soft, just a brush of lips on skin.
“Thank you.”
And just like that, Haechan—crowned prince of the Fire Nation, soldier, firebender—was reduced to a man grinning like an idiot, heat blooming across his face hotter than any flame he’d ever bent.
He reached for more stew just to hide it, but he couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.
Their new bedroom in the Fire Nation palace was much smaller than the luxurious honeymoon suite. The bed—although still elegant—was noticeably tighter, forcing proximity neither of them had truly confronted yet. Haechan paused in the doorway, arms crossed as he surveyed the space. “If it’s too cramped for you,” he offered, his voice casual, “I can take the guest chamber. I don't mind.”
Y/N turned to him with a small shake of her head, her voice gentle but sure. “No… We’re married. We have to get used to it.”
That word—married—still sent a strange thrill down his spine. A mixture of disbelief, amusement, and something warmer, more dangerous. Especially when she said it like that, so soft and sure of him.
They both changed in the small adjoining room, backs turned out of respect—or maybe tension. Haechan padded out first, shirtless as always, his sun-kissed skin glowing under the firelight. Y/N followed a moment later, dressed in a silk two-piece set: soft blue shorts that clung to her thighs and a matching top with delicate straps. Haechan glanced over just once, then forced his eyes away, swallowing hard as he slid beneath the covers on his side.
The palace’s rooms were cooled by design, to give Fire Nation dwellers relief from their natural heat. But to Y/N, who’d grown up falling asleep beside crackling blizzards and glacial winds, the room felt too cold—unnatural, almost eerie. The fire in the corner was out, only a few embers glowing faintly. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as she lay down.
They didn’t say much. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, expectant. Like the air between them had shifted since that kiss during the dance.
Now, inches apart, both of them lay facing opposite directions. But somewhere in the middle of the night, Y/N stirred.
The cold crept into her bones and, half-asleep, her body searched for warmth. Without thinking, she rolled over and instinctively burrowed into the closest heat source.
Haechan.
He felt it immediately—soft limbs tangling with his, her silk-covered thighs brushing against his bare skin, her chest pressed against his arm, breath hitting the crook of his neck. His whole body went rigid.
Eyes flying open in the darkness, he stared at the ceiling, heartbeat hammering. She was—she was all over him. One leg had slipped between his, her hand resting unconsciously on his abdomen, fingers brushing the faint line of hair below his navel. She didn’t know what she was doing. She couldn’t.
Shit.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, but her body responded instinctively—curling tighter against him, nose nudging his throat. And he felt it—his body’s response. His cock, hard and aching now, trapped under the sheets. All because of the way she clung to him in her sleep, unaware and innocent and so damn soft. Dangerous.
He hissed under his breath and clenched his jaw, frozen.
Was she dreaming of something else? Or was it really just the cold?
Either way, he couldn’t take advantage. He wouldn’t.
After a moment of cursing himself silently, he exhaled slowly and reached for a thicker blanket at the foot of the bed. Gently, he tugged it over her body, covering her fully and tucking the edges around her, like some kind of ridiculous protector. Like he could shield her from him.
Once she was cocooned in warmth and no longer clinging, he carefully peeled himself away from her and sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
He needed a shower. A cold one. Immediately.
As he slipped out quietly, trying not to wake her, he glanced back once. Her face was peaceful, lips parted, wedding ring catching the faint light.
Haechan ran a hand through his hair and whispered to himself, “What the hell are you doing, man?”
Because he knew the answer was dangerous.
He might just be falling for her. For real.
------------------
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Fire Prince Jaehyun x Water Princess Reader (smut) - Repost
They're supposed to be sworn enemies, polar opposites, their countries have a shared history of violence, loss and pain. but life always has a way of making the most unexpected people form a bond...
WC: 10k (pt 1), loss of virginity, dirty talk, tension build up, purity ring, unprotected sex (in pt 2)
Repost in honour of NATLA S2 that just came out, this story is older so pls be kind <333 (:
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Prince Jaehyun of the Fire Nation descends from his private jet in dark crimson wool, gold embroidery tracing the edge of his coat like flames licking upward. His skin is warm under the late morning sun, even here where the cold bites. Golden eyes, molten and intense, scan the mountain campus without a hint of awe—he's used to luxury, but not rules. Not tradition he didn’t write.
He doesn't smile. Not because he’s unfriendly, but because he knows the effect his silence has. Cameras click. A student aide fumbles a clipboard when he passes, cheeks redder than the alpine breeze could cause.
He’s the walking embodiment of charisma and danger:
Don’t look too long, you’ll burn.
He’s not here to make friends. He’s here to graduate, play the game, then return home to command fire and steel.
But for now, he enters his assigned private suite at the top of the East Tower, tossing his bag onto a leather chair without care. His phone buzzes—another fan edit of him trending, a picture of him shirtless at a beach last summer.
He smirks.
They love him. Even if they don’t know him.
-------------------
Y/N
Y/N, daughter of the Northern Water Tribe’s High Chief, arrives quietly. Her travel coat is a pearly, icy blue that blends with the snowy backdrop, fur lining soft around her cheeks. Her beauty is subtle, soft but sharp when you look too long. Clear skin, frost-kissed lips, and eyes like stormy seas—still, until they’re not.
She doesn’t need a grand entrance. Her people believe in grace, not spectacle.
She’s escorted by two royal guards but walks slightly ahead of them, posture perfect, spine straight like she’s been balancing a crown since birth. Her phone dings in her pocket—texts from her cousins, memes from her best friend back home, an article someone sent:
“Prince of Fire Arrives—Again Shirtless?”
She rolls her eyes. She’s heard of Jaehyun. Of course she has. Everyone has.
Arrogant. Spoiled. The fire prince who thinks he can charm anything with a heartbeat.
She walks through the grand arches of the West Tower, where the water tribes and diplomatic majors reside, a wall of ancient glacier stone shimmering faintly under LED lights. Her suite is smaller, decorated with handwoven tapestries from home and soft, flowing fabrics. Her room is cold by choice—she sleeps best in icy air.
She lays her palms on a bowl of still water on her nightstand. A family tradition. Her mother used to say that water remembers. She closes her eyes and breathes.
She doesn’t want to hate him. But she will if she has to.
--------------
The school is divided into towers by regions and affinities. The Fire Nation and Water Tribes have never shared classes—until this year.
A new curriculum, a political strategy by the heads of state, hoping the next generation will forget old scars. Hoping proximity will ease the generational distrust.
They’re all supposed to play nice now.
But traditions don’t melt that easily.
And when fire meets water… there’s always steam.
------------
It was quiet in the mountains before the sun rose—quiet in a way that made even royalty feel small. Snow clung to the trees like lace, and the stone corridors of the academy were still, bathed in the faint blue light of early dawn.
Most students were still asleep.
But not them.
Y/N walked silently through the empty hall outside her tower. Her fur-lined robe fluttered slightly around her ankles, and the tiny aquamarine jewels woven into her braids glinted faintly beneath the pale light. She carried herself like someone used to walking ahead of guards, someone who never had to introduce herself because her bloodline spoke first.
But here, no one knew what she looked like.
Her tribe had protected her identity with sacred fervor. No press. No public appearances. Not a single official photo released since she was a child. It was tradition. She was the only daughter of the Northern Water Tribe’s High Chief—the final heir. Their most precious gem.
Only now, finally of age, had she been allowed to make a social media account, which she hadn’t even posted on yet.
“Let them meet me on my terms,” she had told her advisors.
She crossed the wide hallway of the East Wing—the “neutral” hall between towers—drawn to the massive window overlooking the southern peak. She sat in front of it, legs crossed, back straight, hands on her knees. Her breath fogged lightly in the air. The early cold didn’t bother her.
She began to meditate, letting her thoughts settle like snow on still water.
Until—
THUD.
Someone turned the corner too fast.
And ran straight into her.
“Shit—sorry,” came a low, warm voice.
Large hands gripped her arms gently, helping her upright. She gasped at the heat that surged through her skin at the contact—it was like grabbing metal left out in the sun.
Her eyes flew open.
Him.
Golden eyes. Shirtless. Hair still damp from the sink or maybe sweat from a pre-run stretch. He wore only fire-red joggers slung low on his hips and a sharp look of confusion as he stared at her.
Prince Jaehyun.
She’d seen him in a hundred photos. The Fire Nation’s golden boy. All cocky smirks and smolder. Girls across the nations posted thirst edits of him like it was a sport. He was strong, fast, reckless—hot in every definition of the word.
And now he was holding her.
Jaehyun blinked once, slow. His gaze traveled down the fine, icy blue detail of her robe, the royal crest pinned on her shoulder, the way the morning light hit her glass-like jewels and cast ripples across the floor.
Oh. This had to be her.
The Princess of the Water Tribe.
He smirked, letting go of her a little too fast.
“Well,” he said, stepping back, “you should really watch where you’re going.”
Her brows shot up, breath fogging slightly as her expression shifted from surprised to amused—and irritated.
“Me?” she said coolly, rising to full height. “You turned the corner like you were on fire.”
His jaw ticked. “Maybe don’t sit in the middle of the hall like it’s your private glacier.”
They locked eyes. Silence. Snow outside the window, the sun just beginning to rise.
Tension snapped between them like dry kindling.
Without another word, Y/N turned on her heel and walked away, robe trailing behind her like ice across marble.
Jaehyun stared after her for a second longer than he should have.
What the hell was that?
Who walks around looking like that at sunrise? ...And why the fuck was her voice kind of hot?
Y/N stepped into the common lounge of the Water Tower for the orientation breakfast. It was warm with the sound of chatter and fire-crackling hearths, and students milled about in their tribe’s traditional attire.
They rushed over, both waterbenders, daughters of minor dignitaries—warm, excited, and equally curious.
“Oh my god, no one told us you were this gorgeous,” Valkyrie breathed, wide-eyed. “You don’t even have a profile photo yet!”
“Yeah,” Amara grinned. “They kept you locked away like an ice sculpture. For what?! You look like a goddess.”
Y/N laughed softly, flustered but pleased. “My father’s rules. And the council. I wasn’t even allowed to take selfies until last week.”
The girls swooned dramatically.
“We’re obsessed already,” Amara declared.
“Come sit with us,” Valkyrie insisted, pulling her toward their table. “You have to tell us everything. What was it like growing up in the palace? Wait—have you met the Fire Prince yet?”
Y/N froze for a half-second, then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with a cool, unreadable smile.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
-------------
Jaehyun sat in the high-ceilinged breakfast hall, a carved wooden spoon twirling idly in his hand as Johnny and Taeyong chatted beside him over hot eggs and spiced rice.
But he wasn’t listening.
His mind was stuck on her.
The girl from this morning. The Water Tribe princess. Y/N.
The sharpness in her eyes. The softness in her voice. The way she’d looked at him like she saw him—not the prince, not the firebender, just... him. And didn’t care.
“Yo,” Johnny nudged him, smirking as he caught Jaehyun zoning out again. “You good?”
“You haven’t looked at your phone in like… ten minutes,” Taeyong teased. “That’s got to be some kind of Fire Nation emergency.”
Jaehyun rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of sausage. “I’m fine.”
Johnny leaned forward, grin widening. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumored Water Princess finally showing her face today, would it?”
Jaehyun didn't answer.
But his silence said enough.
---------------
All first-years were herded out of the castle-like university and toward the trail winding up into the nearby mountains—a “team-building hike,” they called it.
Y/N walked with Amara and Valkyrie, wrapped in a lighter travel cloak with her braids tucked into a soft knit beanie. The air was bright and thin, sunlight bouncing off every snowy surface. Despite being used to cold, she wasn’t used to this—the altitude, the glare, the way the sun felt like it was trying to steal her breath and her strength.
The water inside her felt sluggish, sun-warmed and heavy.
Her body ached in a way it never did under the moon.
About halfway up the slope, her pace began to slow. Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred for half a second.
“Y/N?” Valkyrie turned. “You okay?”
She nodded weakly, managing a smile. “Yeah. Just... too much sun. You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Amara frowned but didn’t argue. “Alright. Just shout if you need us.”
The others moved on, disappearing slowly up the slope with the rest of the first-years, laughter and boots crunching in the distance.
Y/N sat down on a snow-covered boulder, tugging her coat tighter and closing her eyes. She missed the stillness of the moon already. Her body craved darkness, reflection, water.
She felt so far from it all.
And then—
“Hey.” A gentle voice. Calm, steady.
She opened her eyes to find a tall boy crouching in front of her, wrapped in a charcoal hiking jacket with a Fire Nation patch stitched on the sleeve. Soft brown eyes. Faint scars on his knuckles.
“Taeyong?” she said, surprised. “Aren’t you a group leader? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
“I am,” he nodded with a soft smile. “But I’m also responsible for making sure everyone’s safe. You didn’t look okay.”
Y/N blinked at him, lips parting in disbelief.
“You... don’t hate me?” she asked before she could stop herself.
His smile faded just slightly, replaced by something more serious.
“I don’t hate people just because history says I should.” He paused. “I know what they say about our nations. But you’re not your government, and I’m not mine.”
She stared at him for a long second, stunned by how… kind he was. No hidden smirk. No sarcasm. Just warmth—like fire without burn.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He stood and offered his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk with you the rest of the way.”
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. His warmth was more bearable than Jaehyun’s—it didn’t sting. It just felt… grounding.
They started walking again, slowly, together.
Further up the slope, Johnny and Jaehyun paused at a lookout post under a cluster of frost-covered pines.
Johnny squinted down the trail. “That’s Taeyong, right?”
Jaehyun followed his gaze.
His eyes narrowed when they landed on her.
Y/N. Moving slowly, cheeks flushed with effort. And Taeyong beside her, guiding her with gentle words and hands that hovered close but never touched.
His jaw tightened.
“She doesn’t look well,” Johnny said, tilting his head. “Think she’s sick?”
“It’s the sun,” Jaehyun muttered, sharper than he intended. “Water tribes draw strength from the moon. She’s probably not used to this much direct exposure.”
Johnny raised a brow. “Since when are you an expert on her biology?”
Jaehyun didn’t answer.
His fists were already clenched.
Not from anger. Just... heat.
And he didn’t like that either.
-----------------
The restaurant was tucked into the edge of a mountainside town—a Michelin-starred, glass-walled jewel perched above the icy trees. Inside, golden chandeliers hung from carved cedar beams, casting a warm glow over polished silverware and ivory table linens. The waitstaff wore silk gloves. The wine list had its own zip code.
Students filed in, dressed in formal attire required for the night: tailored coats, evening dresses, polished boots. It was a diplomatic tradition—the first formal dinner of the year, meant to encourage “intercultural communication.”
The universe, however, had different plans.
Y/N slid into her assigned seat at the long banquet table, elegant in a midnight-blue gown embroidered with silver thread. Her braids were gathered to one side, aquamarine jewels glittering softly in the candlelight. She smoothed her napkin onto her lap—and froze.
Across from her, none other than Jaehyun dropped into his seat, manspreading slightly in his sleek black formal suit like the chair owed him rent.
Of course.
His hair was pushed back, jaw sharp, golden eyes scanning the room until they landed squarely on her.
He smirked.
“Let me guess,” he said, reaching for his water. “You’re seated alphabetically. I pity the poor soul with a last name starting with Z.”
Y/N arched an eyebrow. “If I had known the Fire Nation trained in alphabet jokes, I’d have lowered my expectations even further.”
He chuckled, low and smooth. “Relax, princess. I’m just making conversation. Or are you afraid I’ll melt your composure with my oversized ego?”
“I’m afraid it might eclipse the moon,” she replied coolly, sipping her now-frosted water.
He glanced at her glass, then down at his own plate. With an easy breath, he exhaled over his fried rice, warming it just enough to let off steam—literally.
She narrowed her eyes.
“You know, some of us use utensils.”
“And some of us are just efficient.”
Around them, the room buzzed with soft conversation, the clink of glasses, and flirtatious laughter. A pair of girls at the far end of the table kept glancing at Jaehyun, giggling behind their menus. He didn’t acknowledge them, but the slight raise of his chin told Y/N he’d noticed.
Across the room, she didn’t miss the way a few first-year boys were eyeing her like they were planning how to flirt with royalty without dying of embarrassment.
Jaehyun followed her gaze, then raised a brow. “You’ve got fans already.”
“I don’t blame them,” she said sweetly. “They haven’t heard me speak yet.”
His smirk twitched. “Your modesty is overwhelming.”
“Coming from someone who warms rice with his mouth, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They glared, the corners of their lips betraying the fight to stay serious. If either of them looked too closely, they'd see it wasn't quite hate. It was friction. Hot and sharp and electric.
-------------
After dinner, the students gathered outside, the snow crunching beneath their polished shoes as they waited for the sleek black cars that would ferry them back to the university. Breath turned to clouds in the cold night air.
Jaehyun stood off to the side with Johnny and Taeyong, hands in his coat pockets, eyes trained on nothing in particular.
Until—
He saw her.
Y/N stood apart from the crowd, just a few paces away, her back turned, head tilted to the sky. Her eyes were closed, arms relaxed at her sides as she faced the full moon hanging heavy and glowing above them. The icy blue of her dress shimmered faintly under the moonlight. She looked... different like this.
Calm. Still. Powerful.
The air around her almost pulsed—gentle, cool, reverent. As if the night itself bowed for her.
Jaehyun’s breath caught.
He knew what this was. He'd read about the moon’s connection to water tribe bending in one of his statecraft briefings. But seeing it? Feeling it?
It was intimate. Sacred.
And she was beautiful.
Moonlit skin, lashes fluttering softly, lips parted just slightly as if she were absorbing strength straight from the sky.
He forced himself to look away. Clenched his jaw.
Johnny glanced at him. “You okay?”
Jaehyun didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t.
He felt like he’d intruded on something private, something not meant for anyone else. And worse… He couldn’t stop wanting to watch.
-------------
The cars purred softly as they dropped students off one by one back at the academy’s stone steps. The wind was gentler now, the moon still heavy overhead.
Jaehyun climbed the stairs behind a small group of students, jacket slung over one shoulder, his golden gaze flicking lazily forward—until he caught sight of her again.
Y/N.
She was a few steps ahead, walking carefully, her long embroidered skirt and cloak catching on the wind. The icy-blue fabric looked heavy with the weight of tradition, trailing just slightly as she struggled to keep her footing on the slick stone steps.
A hand extended from the crowd.
Minho—broad-shouldered, soft-spoken, Earth Kingdom native with a kind smile—offered it to her shyly.
“You okay?” he asked, voice gentle.
Y/N blinked, then smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she said, taking his hand with delicate fingers. “That’s very kind of you.”
Minho flushed a little as he helped her up the last step, his ears turning red under the lamplight.
Behind them, Jaehyun scoffed quietly.
Johnny caught it and leaned over, smirking. “Jealous?”
“He looked like he was gonna propose just from touching her hand,” Jaehyun muttered.
Johnny laughed. “Careful. That fire under your collar’s showing.”
Jaehyun didn’t answer, just shoved his hands in his pockets and walked a little faster.
Scene Two: Early Morning, Part II
The second day of orientation began with the same silence as the first.
And again, before the sun crested the peaks, Y/N was already in the hall outside her tower, meditating.
This time, though, she wasn’t quite as wrapped in tradition.
She wore loose training pants in icy grey and a sleeveless, high-neck top in soft blue. Her arms were bare, toned and elegant, her back visible where the fabric dipped slightly with her posture. Her skin practically shimmered in the blue morning light, moon-kissed even before the stars faded.
Eyes closed. Breathing even. Calm.
But she could feel it.
Heat. Buzzing, magnetic, stubbornly male heat.
She didn’t open her eyes.
“Take a picture,” she murmured, voice slow and cool. “It’ll last longer.”
Jaehyun stood a few paces away, breathing a little harder than before. His morning jog had screeched to a halt the moment he turned the corner and saw her.
“Didn’t realize this was a public exhibit,” he said, trying to force a smirk onto his face, voice thicker than usual.
“It’s not,” she replied, still not looking at him. “But unfortunately, I don’t control the wildlife.”
He snorted, shook his head, and tore his eyes away. “You’re insufferable.”
“Glad you’re keeping up.”
And with that, Jaehyun jogged off—faster, harder, more focused. As if he could outrun the image of her in that outfit, bathed in blue light like a goddess with her own gravity.
He couldn’t.
Later that morning, Jaehyun sat at a sleek, glass-top café table in the university’s sky lounge with Celina—a girl he’d met during orientation. Blonde, flirty, glitter on her cheekbones and three designer bags on her chair.
“So what was it like growing up in a fire palace?” she asked, leaning forward. “Did they teach you sword fighting? Or like, diplomacy or whatever?”
Jaehyun gave a practiced smile. “Both.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head. “And your eyes—do all Fire Princes have gold eyes or is that just a you thing?”
He blinked. “It’s... just a me thing.”
She giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
He looked down at his espresso, fingers tapping against the cup. She hadn’t asked him a single real question. Nothing about his thoughts, his interests, his beliefs. Just status, background, power.
He suddenly missed the sharp edge in Y/N’s voice. Missed being challenged.
He set his cup down and gave Celina a polite nod.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said.
She blinked, surprised. “Oh! Yeah—of course. Are we—?”
“I’m not interested,” he said bluntly. Not cruel, just honest.
She blinked again. “Oh. Uh... okay.”
He stood, nodded once, and walked out—ignoring the flashes of confusion and rejection behind him. He didn’t have time for empty flattery.
Especially not when there was someone else who wasn’t impressed with him—and for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
-----------
The third day of orientation brought a surprise—a student outing to one of the most exclusive alpine horse tracks in Europe. The snowy valley beneath the university was carved with crystal-clear lanes, the horses bred from royal stables across the globe. The crowd was dotted with diplomats, nobles, and faculty, sipping hot drinks from porcelain cups while wearing coats worth small fortunes.
The students filled the private terrace seating, bundled in school-issue winter cloaks with their house emblems stitched over their hearts.
Jaehyun arrived fashionably late, sipping black coffee, his hair tucked into a wool beanie that couldn’t hide the sharpness of his jawline or the smug set of his shoulders. Girls shifted when he walked past. Some fixed their scarves. One actually gasped.
He didn’t look for her. He wasn’t looking for her.
But he found her anyway.
Y/N was seated already in the front row of the terrace, cheeks dusted pink from the cold, lips wrapped around a warm flask of tea. Her cloak was pale silver today, lined with soft navy fur that made her look even more regal. She laughed at something Amara said beside her, then looked toward the track, sharp eyes scanning the horses.
Jaehyun exhaled slowly, like her mere existence was smoke in his lungs.
He took the empty seat next to her, dropping down without a word.
She turned her head, looked at him once, and returned her gaze to the field.
“Can’t seem to get rid of you,” she murmured.
“Tell me about it,” he replied.
---------------
The starting bells rang.
The horses lined up at the gate, steaming breath rising into the sky.
Students leaned forward eagerly, many of them whispering to one another.
“Leftmost one’s Firebred,” Johnny noted from behind them. “Bred in Jaehyun’s territory. Fastest on record.”
“He’s not winning,” Y/N said with cool confidence.
Jaehyun tilted his head. “You’re betting against my horse?”
“I’m betting against your arrogance,” she said, eyes still on the track.
Jaehyun smirked. “What happens if you’re wrong?”
“I won’t be.”
“But if you were?”
She finally turned her head to meet his eyes.
“If I lose,” she said calmly, “I’ll owe you a favor.”
Jaehyun raised a brow, intrigued. “And if I lose?”
“I’ll collect a favor. When I choose.”
His heart gave an involuntary thump. Not just from the words, but from the way she said them—controlled, steady, almost teasing. Like she knew she’d win.
“Deal,” he said, offering his gloved hand.
She placed hers in his. The cold of her fingers clashed with the heat of his palm. The handshake lasted one second too long.
Then—
The gates opened.
The horses tore across the snow-packed field, thunderous and wild.
Students shouted, cheered, scrambled for a better view. Jaehyun and Y/N leaned forward instinctively, breath held.
And just as the final stretch loomed...
A white-coated mare from the Northern Water territories surged forward, passing the Firebred in the final ten seconds.
The bell rang. The crowd erupted.
Jaehyun sat back slowly, jaw tightening.
Y/N turned to him with a victorious smile—not smug, just satisfied.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to collect,” she said sweetly.
He shook his head, trying to fight a smile. “That’s dangerous, you know.”
“So am I.”
The students filed out of the terrace in buzzing groups, still riding high from the race.
Jaehyun stayed behind a few moments, watching Y/N disappear into the crowd with her friends—laughing, graceful, offering a polite smile to the steward who opened the door for her.
He hated to admit it, but she moved through the world like she’d been born to rule it.
Not like him.
Jaehyun knew he was hot. He knew people liked him—wanted him. He had confidence, charisma, a name that made headlines and a face that broke hearts.
But Y/N? She didn’t try. She just was.
Poised. Natural. Effortless. Kind to everyone—except him.
He’d never met anyone who made him feel simultaneously this annoyed and this off-balance.
She’s the moon, he thought. Untouchable. Cold. But she pulls the tide anyway.
He exhaled hard and stood up.
He was going to need a hell of a lot more wins if he was going to keep up with her.
----------------
The mountain air was brisk as usual—sharp, cold, and biting just enough to remind Jaehyun he was alive.
He jogged through the same corridor as always, hoodie pulled low over his brow, music pumping through his earbuds, pace even and strong. He passed a few students on the way, nodded to a few others, but didn’t stop.
Not until her.
Same spot. Same time. Princess Y/N.
Seated on the mat just off the corridor window again, hands resting on her thighs, eyes closed, lips slightly parted in stillness.
This time, she wore a loose, snowy blue top that slid slightly down her shoulder, revealing the smooth line of her collarbone. Her legs were folded elegantly, the morning light pooling across her skin like it belonged there. And on her hand—resting atop one knee—was a delicate silver ring, carved with the moon cycle.
Jaehyun’s steps faltered. He kept going—barely—but something about that ring...
His eyes narrowed.
By the time he reached the other end of the hall, he was already pulling out his phone, opening a search tab with quick, frantic fingers.
"Northern Water Tribe moon ring symbolism" "Silver purity ring Water Princess" "Tribe virginity ring customs"
And then it hit.
The results came flooding in, exactly what he feared—no, hoped—he’d find.
It was a purity ring.
One only worn by virgins in the Water Tribe—usually those in the royal family, signifying personal vows of restraint, tradition, and spiritual clarity until they chose a partner to share it with.
Jaehyun stared at the screen.
And then...
“Fuck.”
He was half-hard already, pulse slamming in his throat. His jog forgotten. His thoughts suddenly very impure.
He ducked into a shadowed alcove, heart pounding, pressing his back to the wall. One hand still gripping his phone, the other dragging down his face before briefly—desperately—palming himself through his sweats.
Of course she’s untouched. Of course she’s forbidden. Of course she’s driving him insane.
Her calm. Her mouth. Her legs folded so perfectly. That fucking ring.
He cursed again under his breath, fingers tightening.
And then turned abruptly down the hall toward the nearest gym shower room.
The coldest water he could find.
Later that morning, Jaehyun sat stiffly at a private corner table in the library café. Across from him was Saejin, another Fire Nation royal—the daughter of a war advisor, all sleek hair and perfect etiquette.
She smiled, flawless and polished, speaking like she was reading from a court-approved script.
“I just think it’s so refreshing to finally be around our own kind, you know?” she said sweetly, stirring her imported tea. “The Fire Nation doesn’t get enough credit for our superiority.”
Jaehyun blinked once.
Saejin laughed lightly. “Not to be rude. I just mean… we’re trained better. Smarter. I’m sure the others try their best but—well, the Water Tribe is all superstition and snow.”
He leaned back slowly.
Golden eyes unreadable. Sharp.
She kept going, unaware of the crack in her façade. “Don’t you agree?”
“No,” Jaehyun said flatly.
She stopped stirring. “Pardon?”
“I don’t agree,” he repeated. “You’re talking about entire cultures like they’re beneath you. I don’t think I’m better than anyone just because I was born where I was.”
Saejin flushed, eyes wide. “Oh—I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, obviously, I respect diversity—”
Jaehyun stood up. Quiet. Steady. Done.
“Thanks for the tea.”
“Jaehyun—”
But he was already gone, leaving her red-faced and speechless in the middle of the café.
Outside, Jaehyun let the wind hit his face as he leaned against a stone railing, overlooking the snow-covered campus.
I need to stop going on these dates.
They were all the same. Same expectations. Same hollow words. Same attempt to fit into a mold he’d never even shaped himself.
But with her—Y/N—it wasn’t like that.
She didn’t care about who he was. Or what people thought. She challenged him, pushed him, made him feel beneath her in a way that didn’t bruise his ego—it ignited it.
And now that he knew she was untouched, pure, off-limits?
It made it worse.
It made it better.
Jaehyun stared at the horizon, biting his lip, jaw tense.
Maybe dating wasn’t the right move.
Not until he figured out what the hell he was going to do about the girl who didn’t even know the hold she had on him.
Y/N lay in bed, the curtains drawn, the moonlight casting soft shadows across her blanket. Her window was cracked open, letting the chill in—a comfort more than a disturbance.
She should’ve been asleep. She had orientation events early tomorrow.
Instead… she was deep in a stalking spiral.
Her thumb hovered over the search bar again.
"Just one more look,” she muttered under her breath, already typing: @jeongjae.fire
His page loaded quickly.
And of course—it was exactly what she expected. And exactly what irritated her.
Not a single selfie. Just candids—clearly taken by someone else, likely friends, staff, maybe even admirers. Photos from exotic places: volcano ridges, black sand beaches, underground raves lit by lava, firelight warming his smug face.
There were shirtless ones too. Obviously. One at a coastal cliff, him half-drenched from the sea, abs glistening like he knew what he was doing. Another one lounging in a hot spring, steam curling around his collarbones, eyes half-lidded and dangerously flirty.
Y/N scoffed and tossed her phone down, only to pick it back up 2 seconds later.
"Show-off," she muttered, face hot.
She clicked off his profile and opened her camera roll instead.
There was a pause. Then a breath. Then… a decision.
She tapped the little plus sign, selected a recent picture—one snapped just a few days before she left for school.
It was her and her older brother, standing at the palace gate. She had her arm looped through his, both of them laughing, crowns tipped askew from a snowball fight they'd gotten into minutes before. His robes were pristine despite the cold. Her cheeks were pink from the frost and joy.
The caption was simple.
“My favorite person.” ❄️👑
She hit post.
And within minutes, the notifications started pouring in.
💬 “Omg princess reveal?? You’re so pretty!!” 💬 “Royal siblings supremacy 🩵” 💬 “Cold beauty, no wonder the Fire Nation’s threatened” 💬 “Can she freeze me next pls?” 💬 “Protect her at all costs.”
Y/N turned her phone face down and smiled to herself. Just a little. Just once.
Johnny was the first to see it. He nearly choked on his tea.
“Hey, uh,” he said, scrolling, “Y/N just posted.”
Taeyong glanced over. “Really?”
Johnny turned his phone. “Yeah. First one ever.”
The three of them were seated in the common area, students scattered all around, winding down from another long day.
Taeyong smiled. “She looks really happy there.”
Jaehyun didn’t even glance up. He was leaned back on the couch, arms folded, pretending to nap.
Johnny grinned. “You’re not even a little curious, Jae?”
Jaehyun scoffed. “She’s not that interesting.”
“Mhm,” Johnny drawled, unconvinced. “Totally. That’s why your whole jaw just clenched.”
“I don’t care what she posts.” But even he didn’t believe his voice when he said it.
Jaehyun made it exactly three minutes before giving up the act.
Back in his dorm, door locked, lights dimmed, he opened his phone and typed in her handle.
@yn.wtr
Her profile was quiet. Elegant. No posts before today. The display name simply: Princess Y/N of the Northern Water Tribe.
And the photo…
There she was. In full color. Radiant in a way he hadn’t expected. Not posed. Not calculated. Not seductive. Just… warm.
The way she clung to her brother. The genuine laugh. The wind teasing her hair. The grace in her smile. The cold in her cheeks. Her eyes, so deep they looked like they held the whole sea.
And she was calling him her favorite person.
Jaehyun’s thumb hovered over the like button. He didn’t press it.
He stared at the photo longer than he meant to.
This is just research, he told himself. She’s an enemy nation’s heir. I should know more. It’s strategic curiosity.
But his heart thudded louder in his chest.
And the only thing burning inside him… was the truth.
--------------
The sun was high as the students walked the gardens of the Academy, gravel paths winding through meticulously arranged flora from every elemental nation. Minho had chosen the Earth Pavilion as their resting spot, lush with mossy stone benches and shaded by towering trees with twisting trunks.
Y/N sat gracefully beneath the largest tree, sipping warm tea despite the summer heat. Her posture was perfect. Regal, without effort. Around her, a few students chatted quietly, but Minho leaned in, clearly curious.
“Can I ask you something?” he said gently, eyes kind and cautious.
Y/N tilted her head. “Of course.”
“How do you feel… about the Fire Nation?”
The question made a few heads turn. The group hushed just slightly, enough to feel the weight of silence. Even Jaehyun, who had been walking past behind a hedge of flame lilies, froze in place—unseen but very much listening.
Y/N didn’t flinch.
She took a breath, let the breeze comb through her white-blonde hair, and looked Minho straight in the eyes.
“I think history is important,” she said. “It should never be forgotten—what happened between our nations. The war was horrific. My great-grandparents lost their lives in it.”
Minho nodded solemnly. So did several others.
“But,” she continued, “I also think hatred is a poison. One that gets passed down if we’re not careful.”
Jaehyun’s brows lifted, his chest going still.
Y/N pressed her cup into the grass beside her, voice calm but sincere.
“The war ended long before we were born. Generations have passed. And honestly? I’m tired of the narrative. I don't want to spend my life hating people I’ve never met based on things they didn’t do. That helps no one.”
A few students looked at each other, thoughtful. Minho seemed visibly moved.
“I believe both our nations have a lot to offer each other,” Y/N added. “The Fire Nation’s innovation, drive, and strength—combined with the Water Tribe’s patience, healing, and connection to nature… we could be powerful together.”
A beat.
“And I know not everyone feels the same. But… I don’t want to keep telling the same story of hate. I want to write a new one.”
From behind the hedges, Jaehyun stared at the ground.
His hands were tucked into his pockets, his heart caught somewhere in his throat. He wasn’t even sure why he cared so much—why hearing her say it made something twist in his chest like a flame curling inward.
Maybe because… he agreed. Deep down, he always had.
But growing up in the Fire Nation, you weren’t allowed to say that out loud.
He’d learned about the war in school like it was a legacy. He'd heard whispers at home about what the Water Tribe tookfrom them. Was taught that peace was a fragile tolerance, not a genuine future.
But now…
Here was the princess of that tribe. His supposed enemy. Saying everything he’d always secretly hoped.
And it didn’t make him angry.
It made him… ache.
Later that afternoon, during weapons demonstrations in the training field, Y/N was standing alone, tying her hair up into a high knot. The wind swept past her face, pulling stray strands from her braid, sunlight catching the delicate blue shimmer of her robe.
Jaehyun approached from the opposite side, not planning to talk to her—but his eyes flicked up on instinct.
She looked at him briefly. Not with challenge. Not with disdain. Just… acknowledgment.
Jaehyun, usually armed with a smirk, had nothing.
No comeback.
No insult.
He simply gave a nod.
A small one.
And Y/N, after a pause, returned it.
Like maybe… just maybe… they could be on the same side of history someday.
-------------
The halls of the Academy were still half asleep—bathed in pale morning light, with shadows stretched long across the polished floors. Most students wouldn’t rise for another hour. But Jaehyun was already out, muscles aching from his morning lift, hair dripping sweat as he jogged shirtless through the west corridor, earbuds in but music long since paused.
It wasn’t like he meant to look for her.
But when he passed the meditation garden and saw the empty stone bench—her bench—he slowed. Eyes scanning the spot as if her absence disrupted some delicate balance in his morning. A frown tugged at his brow.
Weird.
Y/N was never late. She moved like clockwork.
He kept jogging, rounding a quiet corner—only to stop short when he spotted her. Pacing frantically down the hall in a soft robe, eyes wide and filled with panic, hair loose around her shoulders.
Even breathless and flushed, she looked like royalty.
“Lost something?” he called, trying to sound casual, but his heart kicked a little harder when she startled and looked up at him.
“Oh,” she said. “Yeah—I… I lost my ring.”
Jaehyun blinked. “Your… ring?”
She nodded, clearly distressed. “I took it off for meditation last night, and now I can’t find it. It was a gift. A really important one.”
Jaehyun’s jaw tightened.
There was only one ring he’d seen on her finger lately—thin, silver, engraved delicately. The one he’d Googled two nights ago while still hard and spiraling. A purity ring.
He forced a shrug. “Tough break,” he said, then jogged past her without another word.
But his chest was tight.
And when he turned the next hallway and caught a glint of silver against the floor by a water fountain, he paused.
The ring sat in a pool of light, small and innocent—mocking him with everything it symbolized.
She really meant it, he thought, scooping it up. She’s untouched.
Jaehyun let out a frustrated breath, closing his hand around the metal. He stood there for a long second, debating if he should just leave it on a ledge or pretend he hadn’t seen it at all.
Instead… he turned back.
Y/N was still searching the base of a wall when Jaehyun returned, quiet footsteps padding behind her. She straightened when she noticed him, eyes narrowing.
“You come back to mock me?” she muttered.
“Relax, your highness,” he said dryly. “I found it.”
He extended his hand and dropped the ring into her palm, watching the immediate relief wash over her face.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Thank you. Seriously, I—thank you.”
Her fingers curled around it like it was sacred.
But as she looked up to thank him again, her breath caught.
Jaehyun was close. Too close. His chest bare and sweat-slicked, his necklace bouncing lightly against his sternum. His hair dark and damp, falling over his forehead. And now that she was really looking—really looking—she realized how tall he was compared to her. How… broad.
Jaehyun didn’t miss the flicker in her eyes.
He tilted his head, lips curving slow. “You okay, princess?”
She blinked fast, like she’d caught herself staring. “Fine,” she said quickly. “Totally fine.”
His smirk widened.
“What’s this ring about anyway?” he asked, glancing pointedly at her fist. “Some kind of magical protection spell?”
Her cheeks flushed. “It’s… none of your business.”
“Oh, come on,” he teased, leaning down slightly—his breath hot against her ear. “You can trust me with a dirty little secret.”
Y/N gasped and shoved at his chest, eyes wide. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m honest.”
She spun on her heel, walking away fast, flustered. Jaehyun watched her go, grinning like a devil.
Finally. She’s not made of ice after all.
Far down the hall, Y/N slowed, heart pounding. The ring was cold in her hand, but her skin? Her skin was burning.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her neck where heat lingered, trailing all the way down her spine to—
She didn’t even want to think about it.
Jaehyun couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t even stress.
It was her.
The image of her flushed face, the way her hand had closed around that damned ring, how she’d looked up at him—small, breathless, affected—kept replaying in his head like a loop designed to torment him.
He hated how much power that moment had over him. How her wide eyes had stayed with him long after she’d stormed off. He told himself it was just curiosity. Biological. Hormonal.
Not attraction.
Definitely not that.
But as he lay awake, the darkness of his dorm room wrapping around him, Jaehyun’s thoughts turned filthy in ways he didn’t know he was capable of when it came to her.
The bratty little princess.
So perfect. So untouchable. So damn righteous.
He wondered how long she could keep that attitude if he had her underneath him, hands pinning hers, his mouth finally shutting her up. Would she keep talking back if he pushed her to the edge again and again? If he found that sweet, untouched spot between her thighs and -
Jaehyun sat up and cursed, scrubbing a hand down his face.
He needed a distraction. Fast.
----------------
The Academy held mandatory cultural nights once a week, where students from all four nations were expected to attend a viewing or lecture that explored different facets of the post-war alliance.
Tonight was a historical dramatization.
A war-era film between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe, one that depicted the gruesome realities of the past—and eventually, the fragile peace born between a prince and a captured healer. It was tense, political, and deeply romantic.
And then... the sex scene happened.
Not crude or explicit, but sensual enough to draw awkward coughs and shuffles from the younger students. On-screen, the prince pressed kisses along the healer’s neck, whispering confessions against her skin, fingers trembling as they undressed one another in soft candlelight.
Jaehyun didn’t react.
At least—not outwardly.
But the moment he turned his head slightly and saw her, everything changed.
Y/N sat a few seats over, eyes fixed downward at her lap. She wasn’t watching. Her jaw was tight, ring spinning nervously on her finger, her cheeks visibly red even in the dim light of the auditorium.
She looked like she wanted to disappear.
And Jaehyun? He could barely look away.
Oh, princess. You’ve never even been touched, have you?
His thoughts took a dark turn—sinking lower, hotter.
He wondered how long it would take for her to start panting under him. If she’d sob from being overwhelmed or try to act composed even when her body betrayed her. What sounds she’d make if he kissed down her stomach and told her to open her legs.
Would she be shy?
Or would the brat in her fight it—make him earn every reaction until he completely ruined her for anyone else?
Jaehyun clenched his fists in his lap, nails digging into his palm.
Get it together. he hissed internally. She’s not yours. She’s not even someone you like.
But it didn’t stop the ache.
Or the jealousy that crept in, uninvited.
Because someday… she would marry. Someone her rank. Someone clean and regal, with boring, practiced hands and a pristine family tree. Someone worthy of royal heirs.
And that man—whoever he was—would get to see her. All of her. Would get to pull off those long layers of silk and find out what was underneath.
Jaehyun swallowed hard and looked back at the screen.
But his mind was no longer on the war.
-----------
The thing about your enemies is that you know them better than your friends.
You study them. Watch them. Understand their patterns. Their tells. Their habits.
Jaehyun knew Y/N.
He knew that she tied her hair differently depending on how much sleep she got. That she added exactly two drops of honey to her tea, even when no one else was looking. That her fingers fidgeted with the sleeve seam of her robe when she was nervous. And that—despite her poise—she hated being the center of attention.
So when lunchtime arrived, and he heard her ask for the fish, Jaehyun didn’t expect her reaction when the kitchen worker gave her an apologetic smile.
“We’re all out of fish, Princess. Only the beef remains.”
She blinked once, then smiled politely. “No worries. Beef is perfectly fine.”
Except it wasn’t.
He watched her carry her tray like it weighed a hundred pounds. Watched her sit down three tables away, smile at Minho who said something, and take her first bite of vegetables with the same grace she did everything else.
But she didn’t touch the meat.
Not once.
Jaehyun stared at his own plate—the flakey grilled fish, seasoned perfectly, steaming gently beside his rice. He wasn’t even that hungry.
He glanced at her again. Her fork glided around the meat like it wasn’t even there, never once piercing the beef.
If he remembered correctly from his cultural studies as a kid, the Water Tribe’s traditional diet didn’t include red meat. Not because they were opposed to it, but because they simply lived off the sea.
Fish. Shellfish. Seaweed. Broth.
His jaw clenched.
Just eat, he told himself, stabbing the fish without looking at it.
But he couldn’t.
His stomach turned. His fork stayed still.
“Are you okay?” Taeyong asked, nudging him gently. “You’ve barely touched your lunch.”
“I’m fine,” Jaehyun muttered.
Taeyong followed his gaze and immediately picked up on it. Without a word, he stood up, walking calmly across the cafeteria.
“Princess Y/N,” he said with a gentle bow. “Would you allow me to trade meals with you?”
Y/N looked up, caught off guard. “What? Oh—no, that’s really not necessary. I don’t mind at all.”
“But I do,” Taeyong said kindly. “You’re not eating. Please. Take the fish.”
She blinked, then softened. “Well… thank you. That’s very kind.”
They switched plates.
She smiled, quietly grateful, and Taeyong returned to the table with the beef.
Jaehyun stabbed a piece of rice and shoved it in his mouth like it had personally offended him.
“You could’ve just offered,” Taeyong said, not unkindly, as he sat down.
“I didn’t notice,” Jaehyun lied.
Taeyong gave him a look like you’re full of shit, but said nothing else.
Across the room, Y/N’s shoulders relaxed slightly. She took a bite of the fish and closed her eyes for a brief second—just enough to let Jaehyun know it mattered. That she really wanted it. That she’d almost endured a whole meal pretending she didn’t.
He looked down at his plate again.
Why did it bother him so much?
Not just that she hadn’t eaten.
But that he’d known—really known—and hadn’t done a damn thing about it.
He told himself it wasn’t about her. That it didn’t mean anything.
But somewhere deep in his chest, a little voice whispered:
You want to be the one who notices her. Before anyone else.
And that scared the hell out of him.
---------
The dorm room was dim, curtains drawn, the only sound the dull ticking of the clock on the wall. Jaehyun sat at the edge of his bed, hands cradling his face, elbows on his knees, breath slow and heavy. His chest ached—not with pain, but with pressure. The kind that built from years of expectations. Years of pretending.
The door creaked open behind him.
“Jae?” Johnny’s voice was quiet, careful. “You okay, man?”
Jaehyun didn’t look up.
A beat passed before Johnny walked in fully, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room and leaned against the wall, arms folded, studying his best friend with a furrowed brow.
“What happened?”
Another long pause.
Then Jaehyun exhaled and dropped his hands, finally raising his head. His eyes were tired.
“…What do you think of the Water Tribe?” he asked.
Johnny tilted his head. “That’s out of nowhere.”
Jaehyun didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile.
“I’m serious.”
Johnny’s face softened. “Honestly? I think the war was a tragedy. But it’s history. We should move forward.”
Jaehyun nodded slowly, staring at the floor. “But I’m not just anyone, Johnny. I’m the prince. Everything I say or feel… means something. It represents something.”
Johnny stepped closer. “Maybe. But it also means you have the power to change things.”
Jaehyun didn’t reply.
Johnny sat beside him on the bed, letting the silence sit for a moment.
“…This isn’t really about the Water Tribe, is it?” Johnny asked gently.
Jaehyun’s jaw tensed. He didn’t answer, but that was answer enough.
Johnny smiled faintly. “It’s okay to not feel hatred, Jae. Even if you were taught to. Even if it’s what your father expects.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I know. But you’re not your father.” Johnny leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “He might be king now. But one day… you’ll be the one on that throne.”
Jaehyun swallowed hard.
“And when that day comes,” Johnny continued, “you’ll have to make choices for your people, not his ghosts. Not his grudges. You think the weight of that makes you less human, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes your feelings more important.”
Jaehyun sat back against the wall, closing his eyes.
“I don’t want to hate her,” he admitted quietly. “But it feels wrong not to.”
Johnny looked at him. “Y/N?”
Jaehyun nodded once.
“She’s smart. Honest. Kind to people who don’t deserve it. She drives me insane,” he added, almost bitterly. “And I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Johnny grinned softly. “Sounds like trouble.”
Jaehyun laughed under his breath, finally.
“She’s not what I thought she’d be,” he said. “None of this is.”
Johnny nudged his shoulder. “Then maybe… you’re not what you thought you’d be either.”
Jaehyun looked over at him, blinking.
“It’s okay to be curious, Jae,” Johnny said. “It’s okay to be wrong. To change. To feel something that doesn’t fit into a speech your father would’ve approved.”
Jaehyun let out a long breath.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Anytime,” Johnny said, standing up. “Also—if you do end up falling for her? At least make it interesting. Keep the drama level royal.”
Jaehyun groaned, tossing a pillow at him as Johnny laughed and ducked out of the room.
But long after he was gone, Jaehyun stayed where he was.
Staring at the ceiling.
Wondering if the future he’d been raised for could somehow make room for the girl he wasn’t supposed to want.
---------------
The forest air was crisp, the canopy above casting golden dappled light onto the trail. Laughter echoed through the trees—Y/N and Taeyong walking ahead, chatting easily, their steps light over the uneven ground. Behind them, Jaehyun and Johnny followed at a more relaxed pace, the latter sipping from a water bottle while Jaehyun stayed mostly quiet, his eyes trailing up ahead.
He wasn’t eavesdropping.
He was watching.
Not that it mattered.
The conversation was harmless—Taeyong cracking jokes, Y/N grinning, her eyes shining. Still, something gnawed at Jaehyun’s stomach like a dull burn.
Then he saw it—Y/N’s foot catching on an exposed root, her balance tipping precariously. Before he could think, his body moved.
“Careful—” Jaehyun muttered, stepping forward and grabbing her by the arm.
His hand caught her just in time, steadying her before she could fall. But in doing so, the back of his knuckles scraped harshly against a rough strip of bark on a nearby tree.
“Ah—damn,” he hissed softly, retracting his hand.
Y/N turned quickly. “Oh—are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, more brusquely than intended.
Still, her hand lingered on his arm for a second longer before she gently pulled away, murmuring, “Thanks.”
Back at the academy grounds, the sun had dipped lower, golden hour stretching long shadows across the marble courtyards. Students filtered indoors for dinner or study, but Jaehyun sat alone on the low stone wall near the meditation garden—her spot. His legs were stretched out lazily, one hand scrolling on his phone, the other resting palm-up, scraped and reddened.
He didn’t notice her until she was standing in front of him.
Y/N.
Arms folded. Unreadable expression.
He blinked up at her.
“What?” he asked, setting his phone down.
“I was going to walk by,” she said, “but then I remembered you saved me from face-planting into the forest floor.”
Jaehyun smirked. “That would’ve been entertaining.”
She rolled her eyes, but her gaze dropped to his injured hand.
“Let me see it.”
He hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’m being nice, and you’re making it really hard.”
Jaehyun scoffed, but slowly offered her his hand, watching as she knelt beside the fountain. With a wave of her fingers, water lifted gracefully into the air, suspended in a rippling orb. Her other hand took his—cool and light—and gently wrapped around his fingers.
Jaehyun’s usual snark froze on his tongue.
Her hands were warm. Steady. Confident.
The water shimmered between their palms, glowing faintly as it touched his scraped knuckles. It tingled—not painful, but soothing, like warm sun after a chill.
And then—
It was gone.
The sting. The cut. The blood.
Completely healed.
Jaehyun stared down at his now perfect skin, brows furrowed in disbelief.
“I thought that kind of healing was a myth,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to her.
Y/N stood, brushing off her skirt, a small satisfied smile on her lips. “My grandmother was a master healer. I was taught by the best.”
She turned on her heel.
Jaehyun stared after her, completely thrown off his usual axis.
“Wait—” he called, suddenly.
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. “Hm?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it again.
“…Thanks.”
Her smile deepened. “Don’t mention it, Your Highness.”
And then she disappeared down the path, her presence leaving behind the faint scent of water lilies and peppermint.
Jaehyun looked down at his hand again, still half-expecting the cuts to return.
But they didn’t.
He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.
“…She’s going to be the end of me.”
Y/N shut the door to her dorm room quietly, the click of the latch echoing in the stillness. The light from the hallway slipped away, leaving only the soft glow of the moon filtering in through the gauzy curtains. She leaned against the wood, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling a little too fast.
She couldn't stop seeing him.
That moment by the fountain, the way his skin warmed under her hands. The way he looked at her—really looked at her—as if he’d never been touched like that before. His expression had been somewhere between awe and curiosity… and something darker. Something she shouldn't be thinking about.
But gods, was he beautiful.
Y/N exhaled shakily and crossed to her bed, slipping out of her outer robes, folding them neatly even as her mind wandered.
His eyes—sharp and cutting but deep, always watching her like he was trying to figure her out. The tension in his jaw when he was annoyed, the smirk when he teased her. The muscles in his arms, the ink-black hair damp and curling against his forehead after training. The sheer height of him towering over her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest.
She never used to notice things like that. She was supposed to be composed. Dignified. Pure.
And yet…
As she curled up beneath the covers, her fingers drifted down her stomach on their own. Hesitating. Remembering the exact sound of his voice when he’d leaned down and whispered—
“You can trust me with a dirty secret.”
Her breath hitched.
She wasn’t supposed to think of him like this. Wasn’t supposed to feel this ache in her belly, this restless longing that settled deep between her thighs. But when her fingers brushed lightly against her clothed center, she gasped, her body arching just slightly off the bed.
Her other hand pressed to her lips, silencing her moan.
It’s just me, she told herself. Just relieving pressure. Just a release. Not about him.
But her body knew better.
She imagined the weight of Jaehyun’s body above her, his voice low and rough in her ear. His hands sliding down her hips, those perfect lips on her throat, the scent of sweat and cedarwood thick in the air. His voice in her mind—so bratty today, Princess. Maybe I should shut you up.
Y/N whimpered, her fingers moving slowly now, teasing herself the way she imagined he might. Rough at first, then gentle. Her body trembled under her touch, thighs tightening as the pleasure built, as heat twisted tighter and tighter through her limbs. She was close—too close—and her breath grew ragged.
“Jaehyun…” she whispered before she could stop it.
She came with a soft cry, legs shaking, chest heaving.
And then—
Silence.
Shame bloomed quickly. She rolled over, pulling the covers up to her chin, heart still racing.
What the hell was happening to her?
Why was it him she thought of, when she shouldn’t even like him?
Y/N closed her eyes tightly.
He’s the fire nation prince. Your supposed enemy. A cocky, annoying, arrogant menace.
But even that couldn’t stop the traitorous smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Because Jaehyun had also been gentle.
Thoughtful.
And worst of all—he made her feel something.
------------
Jaehyun stared at his communicator for a long time before finally pressing the call button.
It was late—too late for most students to be awake—but his father would be expecting one of his check-ins. This time, it wasn’t about grades or how well he was fitting in at the academy.
When his father’s face appeared, regal in his robes, framed by the golden lighting of the palace, Jaehyun straightened unconsciously.
“Father,” he said, voice a bit tight.
“Jaehyun,” the king replied. “You’re calling late. Is something wrong?”
Jaehyun hesitated. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about. Something that’s… been bothering me.”
A beat of silence passed.
“I’ve been taught my whole life to hate the Water Tribe,” Jaehyun continued, keeping his gaze steady. “To see them as lesser. As enemies. But ever since I came to this school… it’s not like that. The students here, they’re not my enemies. Most of them don’t even care about what happened generations ago.”
His father’s eyes narrowed slightly, though not with anger. More like calculation. “Go on.”
Jaehyun swallowed. “I don’t think I believe what I was taught anymore. I mean… how can I hate people I don’t even know? People who haven’t done anything wrong? The war ended decades ago.”
The king let out a low sigh, leaning back in his chair. “You sound like your mother.”
Jaehyun blinked.
His father looked away for a moment. “I didn’t always hate the Water Tribe either. But my father—your grandfather—he was filled with rage. He watched friends die in the war. He lost his brother. So I was raised on that anger. I inherited it without ever questioning if it was truly mine.”
Jaehyun’s brows furrowed. “So you don’t hate them?”
“I suppose I don’t,” the king admitted reluctantly. “Not personally. But you must understand, diplomacy is complicated. The Water Tribe may seem friendly now, but politics change in an instant. Trust the wrong person and it could cost your nation dearly.”
Jaehyun’s jaw clenched. He knew what his father was really warning him about.
“The people might not like it,” the king went on. “If you’re seen growing close to someone from that side—especially someone of status—there’ll be whispers. Some might even call you a traitor.”
Jaehyun looked down for a moment, thumb brushing the edge of the communicator. Y/N would never use me. He didn’t say it aloud. Not yet.
“I just think… maybe people have moved on more than we give them credit for,” Jaehyun said instead. “And maybe the problem isn’t them. Maybe it’s us. If we don’t show forgiveness, how can we expect them to?”
His father’s expression shifted—tired, worn. “You’re still young. Idealistic.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
The king didn’t answer for a moment. Then he sighed again and said, “For now, just focus on school. Learn what you need. Make allies. The world outside will be waiting when you’re ready.”
Jaehyun nodded, but in his heart, something had already shifted. His father’s words were permission, in their own quiet, reserved way.
When the call ended, Jaehyun leaned back on his bed, arms folded behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of Y/N’s smile, the warmth of her hands wrapped around his, the conviction in her voice when she spoke of peace.
He wasn’t just imagining it anymore.
And now that he had a sliver of his father’s blessing—however cautious—it felt even harder to resist where his heart was leading him.
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sneak peak:
“I know how to fix this,” he said lowly. “All of it.”
She blinked, breath catching. “How?”
“One night.” His eyes burned. “One wild, filthy, unhinged night. We get it out of our systems. Every stolen look, every thought we’ve tried to bury. Just… one night. You and me. No crowns. No tribes. Just primal fucking instinct.”
“Jaehyun,” she whispered, stunned.
His mouth was near hers now, not quite kissing, just hovering—close enough that their lips brushed every time one of them exhaled.
“You want it too,” he murmured. “I see it. Every time you look at me like you want to devour me. Every time you gasp over nothing when I’m near.”
Y/N whimpered softly, eyelids fluttering shut. His hand curled gently around her waist, guiding her until her back pressed into the cool stone wall.
“Say yes,” he whispered, lips ghosting her cheek. “Just one night. I swear I’ll ruin you so sweetly, you’ll never think of another man again.”
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