An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Characters: Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Capture, Rescue, Pirates, Ba Sing Se, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Badass Katara (Avatar), The Desert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm making this up as I go, No beta I'll die alone
Summary:
Katara is not the type of girl to sit back and let people take advantage of her, but when she's put in the position of protecting her friends in the desert she ends up in a less-than-ideal situation. She would have never imagined that her closest ally would become the fugitive son of the Firelord.
Okay guys! SotNPoF is officially complete! I’m sorry it took me two years to finish it, but I’m so happy that it is now a completed work. You can read the last chapters on AO3 here
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Katara/Zuko
Characters: Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar)
Additional Tags: Love Languages, this fic is Messy y'all!, Some Yearning, Pining, Gift Giving, Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, physical touch, acts of service, Firebending, Waterbending, Zuko is an awkward turtle duck
Summary: Surprise laces through her, unfurling in her limbs and becoming shaking nerves. “Are you going to kick me out of the palace because I’m not a firebender?” she asks, intending for the comment to come out dripping in sarcasm. Instead, it sounds almost genuine, a worry she did not realize she had—
—and why does the idea of leaving here—
—leaving Zuko—
—make her feel more than a little afraid?—
—until she gave it the power of words.
He looks half horrified. “No, no. Agni, no,” he says, shaking his head. He waves a nervous hand through the air. “No, you’re welcome here—more than welcome—especially more than some people are.”
🔥 The Stalking Zuko Series is by emletish on FanFiction. net
This Series is pretty darn good! I say ‘pretty good’ because I’m not too keen about reading the whole story from a journal. I would much rather prefer the story in “story/book mode.” But that’s just my preference.
⭐It really is a good story.
These stories are all told through Katara’s Journal, and therefore, through her point of view. We get to hear literally EVERYTHING going through Katara’s head, so that’s interesting for sure! Katara starts stalking Zuko because she doesn’t trust him when he first joins the Gaang at the Wester Air Temple. So she’s just waiting for him to “slip up” so she can stop him from betraying them again.
Just like in the show, as Katara starts to learn more and more about him, her feelings do eventually change to forgiveness, but then continue to change into something more. 🥰
(Ooo, la, la!) <– That’s a phrase Katara says a lot in this series that always cracks me up! XD
There are quite a few laugh out loud moments too, and I really appreciate every one of them! 😂
✨Definitely check this series out!
•Stalking Zuko - 20 Chapters
•Not Stalking Zuko - 50 Chapters
•Not Stalking Fire Lord Zuko - 28 Chapters
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Art Cred!
Image 3: Image found on google images. Original source unknown. (I actually ended up with a small virus on my computer, trying to find the original source of this image. :( *D’OH!*
If you know the artist *Please* let me know! ❤️
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💕Check out my other posts for even MORE Zutara Goodness!
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#ZutaraForever! 🔥❤️💧
#Zutara #ZutaraFanFiction #ZutaraFanFic #ZutaraFanFicReview #ZutaraFanArt #ZutaraNation #ZutaraFic #ZutaraFicRec #ZutaraArt
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https://www.instagram.com/p/CRl-IPVLyVg/?utm_medium=tumblr
Living proof "Dad?" Zuko looked up from his paperwork, seeing his eldest daughter looking unsure and hesitant in the doorway of his office. "What's wrong, sweetie?" Kya rubbed her arm. "I was reading some history scrolls..." Zuko set his quill down. He and Katara hadn't hidden the war from them per se, but there were some details they hadn't explicitly told them yet. They'd decided to wait until they were older. But Zuko hadn't imagined that any of them would seek answers themselves... "And? What did you learn?" He smiled kindly at her, gesturing to one of the seats in front of his desk. She was 14 now, old enough to understand the horrors of trauma and war. Kya frowned as she walked forward. Instead of sitting she walked around the desk. Her hand stretched out towards him, "Daddy... how did you get that scar?" Her hand hesitated, not quite touching the damaged skin. She had never been afraid to touch it before. Zuko smiled sadly. There was no need to lie to her. "My father burned me." Kya swallowed roughly, nodding slowly. That was what she had read. She had known her grandfather was a horrid man that wrecked havoc on the whole world. Including his own family. "I'll tell you the whole story if you want to hear it." He held up a finger, "On one condition." His daughter tilted her head in question. He continued, "You have to keep in mind that you are living proof that our nation is healing from the war. Your mother and I didn't always get along, we were on opposite sides of the war after all. Don't think too badly of me... I made many mistakes when I was young." Kya threw her arms around his neck, "I'll never think badly of you, Dad. Please tell me." Zuko rested his cheek on top of her head, holding her close. When had his baby girl gotten so big? She was almost an adult already. "I was about your age when it happened..."
Read on ao3 and find the challenge’s collection here
Thank you so much for creating the challenge @fictionissocialinquiry ! ♡
They have danced before; have moved together through ice and fire, sadness and pain. They have spun around the beat of etiquette and propriety, tiptoeing from lingering gazes to almost-touches for almost a year.
They have danced around each other for so long, always remaining at a graceful distance, but tonight she has finally washed up in his arms – only to run through his fingers by morning.
The erratic current of dancing figures shriek and laugh from alcohol and enjoyment all around them; the festival is pulsing with life, but she will always be gone too soon, so what is there to celebrate?
Trying to avoid their inevitable goodbyes for just a little longer, they drift slowly through the night.
Her hand rests steadily on his chest and his arm fits perfectly around her waist; dancing like this feels like belonging, like the beginning of an end.
There is heat beneath their fingertips.
He is painfully sober, and the blush on her cheeks does not hail from sweet plum wine, either, but from something else, something neither of them dares to name quite yet. Nameless as it is, it makes letting go so much more painful.
The pearls in her dark hair reflect the fireworks in the sky. Spring has come but she will leave.
He gathers her into his arms, lifting her up, just as their dance demands. She smiles down at him; her deep blue eyes are the sky and the bottom of the sea at once and he cannot help but fall into them; drowning must be the path to heaven.
Her bright smile wanes when he gently returns her feet to the ground.
What use does heaven have if she is not there?
This girl – woman – has held his heart in her hands once, and even though the pain has long since faded, the feeling of her firm touch never has.
He knows it never will.
Searching each other’s eyes, their dance stops in anticipation of its mysterious next steps.
Should they push and pull away in tune to the tides?
Should they retreat to more secure beginnings and start this dance anew, like they always do?
Or should they dare create their own rhythm as they go?
He frowns down at the slim hands that are delicately resting in his. He intertwines his fingers with hers – he is drowning after all and the look on her face confirms that she must be, too. Her pulse quickens in tune to the beat of his heart, and they know what must come next – the words have been dancing around them for so long and now it is almost too late.
But once it is said, there is no going back – just leaving behind.
“I think I am utterly lost without you, Ambassador Katara.”
He has meant to say all those other words burning on his tongue, but they are far too many for such little time.
Understanding is warming her eyes.
He bends down, brushing his lips against hers in silent invitation. There is room for her to pull back, to push away; she is the moon, and he is her spellbound ocean – but she does neither.
She closes what little distance is between them with a deep sigh.
They are drowning, and the waves come crashing down on them.
Most of their encounters have ended in rapidly rising steam, but tonight their dance is a slow one. They wade through the delicate motions of lips on lips, testing out these new waters.
They are fast learners, though.
They have outgrown their chaste touches and longing gazes by the time they have reached the lifeboat that is her room.
He picks the pearls from her hair skillfully; where there was noise before is now silence – after all this waiting there is no more time to waste.
She brushes the thin shirt off his broad shoulders, aching to feel his skin against hers.
When he lifts her up this time, she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing her body against the celestial scar on his chest.
She cannot help but think about the night when this man’s life has run through her hands and she knows her heart will never stop freezing at the thought of it.
What use has power when it cannot save a life?
She is painfully burning for his touch and knows the heat in his face was not kindled by bitter Baijiu, either.
Pulling away from the kisses caressing her skin, she looks into his dark amber eyes, seeing only herself in them.
“And I think I have been found, Fire Lord Zuko.”
There were other words she has meant to say whenever she imagined a night to end like this, but they are burning through what little time they have left now, so she returns her lips to where they are ultimately bound to be.
When he lowers her down this time, it is on the soft bed.
She brushes her hips against his in quiet invitation; he is the sun and she is mercifully kindling under his soft touch. She knows there will be no leaving tomorrow, not after tonight.
They have not danced like this before; they move through want and need and something else that is only just getting a proper name.
Dawn has come and gone, but they will stay.
Here in these tangled bedsheets, with his strong heartbeat beneath her fingertips and his arm around her waist, there is a sense of rightness, of belonging. She looks up at him and finds him looking back. They chuckle.
‘You’re from the south, right? I can tell by your accent.’
She nods in confirmation and he gives a one-shouldered shrug.
‘I’ve never been down that way. You ever visited Caldera, out west?’
‘Nope. Summer camp in Omashu Forest?’
‘Never fancied Lyme disease, personally.’
‘Interscholastic debate?’
‘Not got an argumentative bone in my body.’
‘Ha, why do I feel like that’s categorically not true?’
‘You’re the one who thinks we’ve met before – you tell me.’
‘I don’t know, call it a hunch.’
‘Hm. Skiing up north, Teo Mountain Resort?’
‘I mean, my dad isn’t a billionaire, and he’s never been involved in any kind of public scandal, so no. Martial arts?’
Something sparks in his eyes – such an intense shade of hazel that they’re nearly gold in this light, she won’t pretend she hasn’t noticed – and honestly, if her ears could prick up, they would.
‘Shaolin Kung Fu. You?’
Damn. She shakes her head.
‘Tai Chi Chuan.’
‘Huh.’
‘Yeah.’
They grind to a halt, out of ideas, but by this point Katara’s pretty clear on precisely two things:
One, however much she might have felt as though she did, she does not know this man.
