𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚄 promised himself that he wouldn't touch you, his newly arranged wife. but he swears that you're trying to give him a heart attack with how bad you want him, someone twice your age.
꒰ age gap (40s/20s) :: arranged marriage :: suggestive ꒱
Satoru should have known you'd be a problem from the moment you said I do.
You were nothing he expected, everything he wanted, and something he couldn't have.
He knew he was in trouble from the day you flashed him those pearly white and crooked your head at him so cutely. Fresh out of your wedding ceremony and sprawled across your now shared bed. Waiting for a man with more creases settling into his skin than years to your name.
He sat still on the bed's edge. Quiet.
"You okay?" You asked. Sweet, sweeter than his scars deserved.
"Y'know," he drawled, cocking his head to mimic you. "You're awfully calm for a girl who just got married to someone old enough to be her dad."
He should have known the clan would pull something like this. Unfortunately, he could not outrun his elders. Forty four and without an heir was a stain on their name.
And now, you're here. Sweet, pretty, young you.
Smiling at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.
"Well," you intentionally mimicked his drawl. Huh, so you had spunk?
The mattress dipped beside him. Your soft knees brushed on his thigh's side. Your hands looked softer. Delicate. Probably fragile in his scarred ones.
"I guess that's right. You're twice my age— buuuuut."
Warmth bubbled in his side as you nudged him. A smile on your strawberry balmed lips.
"You seem nice enough." A dramatic? Sigh. "Real handsome too. Wouldn't say you're pushing fifty at all."
He blinked.
You stretched, still smiling. "Experienced, attractive, rich— what more could a girl ask for?"
His brows shot up. In all of his years as the Strongest, Satoru could only count on one hand the number of times in which his breath hitched.
You'd be responsible for it becoming two hands. Three, even.
What, with the way you batted your eyes at him at the dinner table. How you hung off of him during meetings.
It was odd. Not what he was expecting in the slightest. You should feel disgusted. Or unnerved.
He was your father's age.
Hell, his hands were wrinkling.
So why. The hell. Were you more into this than he bargained for?
"Don't you want a guy your age?" He scoffed at you one day during dinner.
You arched your brow. Huffed as you fixed one of your golden hoop earrings.
"Now why wouldn't I want my lobster buttery?"
Yeah. That's when he realised you were crazy.
Or maybe that should have been only a few days after your wedding, when he walked in to the sinful sight of you lounged on the bed. Silk kissing your soft skin. Teasing.
In a baby blue. Lingerie.
"What the hell are you wearing?" His hand covered his eyes. Over the blindfold. Not that it mattered. His six eyes knew what it wanted to see.
"A surprise for my husband." You smiled.
It felt like a taunt. He slept on the couch that day.
You were a little too excited about the thought of giving yourself away to a man who had finished school by the time you were born. A little too eager to press against his aging skin.
"We're married." You'd claim.
"Am I so wrong for wanting you?"
Of course not. But he sure as hell wasn't going to let your first time be with someone like him.
Not to mention the day that you—
"Remember how I said you're suppeerrr rich?" You cooed.
Satoru stared down at you. Mapping the morning sun that caressed half of your face in the dining hall.
His arms folded, the white fabric of his haori tucking against his chest. "Yes?"
He couldn't help but drawl, amused. Because his pretty arranged wife was full of surprises.
"Well, I was wondering."
Satoru really should keep his infinity up around crazy girls like you.
Your delicate fingers surged sparks into his veins. Your softness pressed into every inch of him.
As your hand treaded his bicep, so his sanity threaded. Thinned.
Doll eyes. Oh fuck. Why were you giving him doll eyes? Stop that.
"Could you maybe. . . spare your wife a little gift?" You asked.
Sweet.
Sinful.
The devil sure was pretty.
He cleared his throat, but he was still thirsty. Starving, even. White lashes hung low over blues as he watched every inch of you.
"What do you want?" He asked.
You leaned closer than he should have allowed you to. Pouted.
"There's this new pair of shoes on the market. Real pretty. Pink. I think it'd look soooo good on me."
"Yeah? That why you married me? For my money?"
"Well I could always work for it."
Your hands traced to his chest. That's where he should have stopped you.
He didn't.
You were nothing he expected.
Everything he wanted.
And something he couldn't have.
"Sweetheart," the words dripped dark. His brow quirked. Your fingers were getting a bit too comfortable with his haori ties.
His eyes hung heavy. Voice heavier.
"You know I've got scars older than you, right?"
It was meant to scare you off. But Satoru should have known better.
Again. He should really put his infinity up around crazy girls like you.
Instead of flinching. Or wincing. Or even curling your lip— you smiled.
Fucking. Dazed.
Were those hearts in your eyes?
Your fingers fiddled with his belt. Your giggle slipped into a sigh. Too dreamy. Too sweet.
"Yeah?" You hummed.
He laid a hand over yours. Gentle, because that's what pretty things deserved. But firm, because they never listened either.
Pulling you away, Satoru shook his head with a deep sigh.
"Anyone ever tell you you're crazy?"
Your pout returned. "So is that a yes to the shoes and a no to the sex?"
"Yes."
"Well, can you call me sweetheart again, then?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. As you hung on his arm with those big, bambi eyes of yours. Oh, he sure had his hands full with you.
synopsis it’s been years since life had been rebuilt after ozai’s reign of tyranny. the fire nation — the entire world — is walking the fragile line of peace. to the council, it’s the perfect time for the firelord to marry a commoner woman of the water tribe. to zuko, its an even better time to get the gaang back together.
pairing firelord zuko x reader - insert
cw 3.5k, arranged marriage, implied kataang, aang is written as a wise ray of sunshine, sokka is a sarcastic womanizer, toph beifong is herself, katara is slightly stubborn, canon universe, wedding night, falling in love, fluff and smut, subtle angst, porn with feelings and plot, cunnilingus, married sex, throne sex, penis in vagina sex, no use of y/n for afab!reader, accidental branding, briefly mentioned breeding kink, creampie, short and sweet
link available on ao3
a/n haven’t seen the full movie yet so this is based off the many clips i’ve seen. im ngl, i know the whole storyline from tiktok so at this point i basically have seen the whole movie. anyway, happy reading!
To Aang, Toph, Katara, and Sokka
Becoming the Fire-Lord has normalized stress and many restless nights. Despite it all, I cannot forget the joy we shared. Before we parted ways there was a promise that if we ever needed each other we would come calling. This is my call. I’m getting married tomorrow night. Two months ago, the council decided the responsibility of ruling would be made a bit lighter with a wife by my side to care for. I haven’t met her yet. Never spoken to her. I kept putting it off, thinking they would cancel the ordeal on their own judgment, but now there’s only one more sunrise before the big day. I wish for advice as I also wish to see you all again even more. I missed you.
- signed, Fire-Lord Zuko
Zuko’s fingers brushed the makeup barely concealing his scar.
“What if she thinks my face is hideous?”
“Oh, please,” Toph scoffed, seated on the floor of his private chamber, “As if any woman on earth has ever called you ugly before.”
“I never thought you’d still be capable of seeming so insecure,” Katara chuckled lightly, “Being nervous is a good sign at the start of a relationship.”
“They’re both right.” Aang offered a smile and two thumbs up of encouragement. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Katara’s waist. “You’re overthinking this, Zuko. The woman’s most likely scared of being in an arranged marriage too. Worried it will forcefully tie her to some mean, arrogant tyrant.”
Sokka leaned against the doorframe. “In that case she would hate the old you. Unless she likes mean, arrogant tyrants. Then you’re screwed regardless.”
Three other individuals in the room glared at Sokka while Zuko swallowed hard and glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time.
Royal robes had been neatly cleaned and pressed in preparation for the wedding. Recently, long dark hair had grown even longer. Excluding the scar his skin was unblemished. Fire-Lord Zuko looked far healthier now that stress wasn’t too much of a constant in his life anymore. The Fire Nation was at peace, other elemental civilizations equally so. This timing was perfect to prove he wouldn’t be as aggressive as his predecessor. To marry a bender provided by the water tribe and birth a heir.
All according to the council, of course.
Still, he buried his face in his hands.
“At the end of the night I’m expected to consummate the marriage…”
Sokka fanned his hand with mock nonchalance. “That should be the easiest part. I mean, we’re all adults. We already know what part goes in where —“
Both Aang and Katara coughed, faces flushed bright red.
“What if she doesn’t want to?” Zuko groaned. His forehead collided with wood. “What if the idea scares her off or makes her think I’m some kind of sick bastard? A royal marriage remains unconfirmed unless the wedding night is spent together.”
“Here’s some real advice, lie to the council. Pretend like something happened even if it didn’t. Old geezers who haven’t gotten their rocks off in years wouldn’t be able to decipher a lie like that.”
Toph’s words made Zuko inhale deeply, exhaling twice as hard in an effort to calm his nerves. The woman was right. Besides, there wouldn’t be any worry of witnesses accusing him of deceit.
“Or are you just nervous because you haven’t been with a woman in a while?”
Zuko’s teeth gritted at Sokka’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long.”
Toph snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? How long has it been?”
No answer was given, not when Zuko came to the realization that it had been a while. It wasn’t intentional, nor something he knowingly kept track of.
“Told ya.” Sokka gloated at the silence. “It’s expected for a Fire-Lord to be pent-up — you know, ruling his kingdom and all…”
Katara rolled her eyes. “As if you’re drowning in women.”
Sokka smirked. “Duh, I am. That’s my specialty.”
“Anyway,” Aang recentered the conversation, “Everything will be fine. When we first met, all of us had our own negative perceptions. Now we’re all here to support you because you proved us wrong. If you did it once it could definitely be done again.”
“Correctamundo,” Sokka firmly nodded, placing a hand on his hip. “Right now your biggest worry should be if your bride is actually super gross-looking.”
“That shouldn’t matter, Sokka.” Katara sighed. “I doubt it. Water tribe women are always beautiful.”
Aang hadn’t taken his gaze off Katara as he mumbled, sheepishly massaging his neck.
“Agreed.”
“Appearance hasn’t crossed my mind. Who am I to judge something like that?” Zuko stood from his seat at the vanity. Heated hands straightened his black and red garments before his eyes settled on each of his childhood friends. His tense expression softened. “I appreciate you all finding time to be here. Truly.”
Katara gave a gentle smile. “Whenever you need us we’ll find time for you. Always.”
Two servants entered the room with their heads bowed low, announcing synchronously once permission was granted.
“Fire-Lord Zuko, your bride has arrived from the Northern Water Tribe.”
Fireworks exploded under a vast starry sky. The festival of steam had commenced, joining water and fire.
The entire time, Zuko hadn’t realized he was staring.
Dancers, music, lights… all were a blur. None could captivate him as his wife had. Feeling him watch you, you glanced in his direction. The small motion made Zuko mend his posture and offer an awkward closed-lipped smile, but his gaze refused to depart from the soft looking skin of your lips, your eyes glowing above a trail of embers. A word hadn’t even uttered through your lips intended for him yet.
Man, how long has he been this pent-up without realizing?
Perhaps Sokka was right.
Zuko made a silent oath to never utter those words out loud.
The wedding ceremony had went smoothly.
There was no doubt it would since there was no need for the husband and bride to interact with each other beforehand. Besides making eye contact a few times, each remained within respective palanquins while a highly-ranked councilman announced the newfound duties of an emerging royal family.
Much later into the night both you and Zuko were still seated separately, only allowing him to admire you from afar. The robes on your body were elegant, silver and blue fabrics complimenting the power coursing through your veins. A corset squeezed ribs so much Zuko could see your small gasps for breath. Each time you shimmered in firelight when a dancer passed made the Fire-Lord even more mesmerized.
There was a new ring on your finger, a fire nation crown on your head…
A weight heavy on your skull.
All of this — the dress, the jewels, the endless fuss — it wasn’t intended for the pleasure of love. Today was dedicated to the survivors traumatized by a meaningless war, worried that a minor incident would tip the scale. To the mothers and fathers fearing their children will be kidnapped and forced to fight again, losing their lives for a selfish tyrant. That stripped this marriage of any emotional meaning and instead provided a logical one. And you — since childhood you had wanted to escape the Northern Water Tribe and its society favored toward men.
Now, what should have been an opportunity at freedom felt more like a cage.
Your fingers clenched the fabric of your dress. You leaned over to a fire nation servant, whispering words Zuko couldn’t hear.
Then, you climbed off the palanquin held on the shoulders of water tribe maidservants.
Zuko watched you saunter into the palace before quickly hustling to follow you, ignoring a councilman who had asked where he could be running off to.
Through long corridors, you stepped onto a balcony, leaned against a railing as you gazed up at the moon. A source begging to be used. It couldn’t be. Not when all that surround you was aggressively overpowering fire.
Zuko stepped onto the balcony behind you, quietly offering his first words in hours.
“May I ask what’s on your mind?”
A response came just as gentle.
“Needed some air. The steam was too much to handle. Too forceful.”
Zuko knew you meant that more in a figurative sense than literal.
“I assume the centuries of war imposed by the fire nation has made you reluctant of this marriage…”
“Reluctant isn’t quite the term I would use.” For a water tribe commoner, your tone was surprisingly warm and steady. “I prefer to drift with the flow of life. If it has brought me to be with you, I will accept it.”
Zuko leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony; gazed down at the people still singing, dancing, drinking. A mix of water-benders and fire-benders lingered in the crowd, fewer earth-benders cheering along. All interacting with one another.
“My mother was forced to marry my father. She lived a facade of contentment, but cracks always showed the truth,” he buried reemerging thoughts of resentment to instead whisper, “I refuse to become like him.”
The Fire-Lord hesitantly pulled a small box into the night air. One that had been hidden within his robes the entire evening as he struggled to hide the slight tremble of his fingertips. Zuko watched you open it with awe, your eyes brimming with gratitude at the sight of a traditional betrothal choker inside. Instead of being water tribe colors, the collar was black while the pendant itself was blue with fiery red detailings.
“This is beautiful,“ you whispered with honesty, “Unique.”
“It was inspired by one I had seen before. May I put it on you?”
As soon as you nodded Zuko shifted behind you.
Gentle hands slowly tugged blue attire lower. A chilly breeze licked the base of your neck. You could feel him close. Even through clothes his body was warm, strong. His presence created a heat of its own. The adornment raised to wrap tight around your neck.
When Zuko spoke, his sultry breath caressed your ear like silk.
“I was scarred due to my father’s relentless greed for power. The fire nation has hurt me too. I’ve worked tirelessly to fix the consequences.”
“Then I suppose a mark like this isn’t new to you?” A silver sleeve was pulled back to display a burn on the otherwise smooth skin of your arm. “What happened to all the fire nation soldiers arrogant enough to burn children for fun? Do they still live their lives worry free? Is the Fire-Lord so forgiving?”
Zuko tenderly raised your arm to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on the scar.
“I assure you that they’ve been dealt with. A long time ago. Thoroughly.”
“Well the trauma still remains.” Your back turned to him. “I apologize for my insolence, my lord.”
Strong hands held your waist with a benign yet commanding strength, stopping you from drifting away. “There’s no need to call me that. You’re my wife. It sounds a little —“ he cleared his throat, faint redness creeping up his cheeks “— suggestive when my title comes from your lips.”
Your head tilted to the side. A teasing grin crawled onto your face. “Is that how you prefer it, my lord?”
“When a voice such as yours says it, yes.”
You stiffened upon the realization that his flirting had managed to draw a smile from you. After a moment of hesitation, you turned back around to face him. His eyes meet yours under the moonlight, a fountain of fire on the balcony making them glow golden.
“We can make this work,” you conceded with a sigh. “I just want freedom, is all. To feel like my own person, not some random water-bending commoner forced to marry the ruler of the fire nation.”
“Everything you want will be yours. I promise.”
There was a glossy look in his eyes, wet and wanting. A hunger that had been restrained. He inched closer, providing all the time you would need to pull away.
But, you didn’t.
As soon as his lips met yours, his body relaxed for the first time of the night, stress melting beneath your hands braced his chest. All the while, his touch never stopped wandering. Your neck. Your arms. Dragging along your spine until your back subconsciously arched.
A breathless laugh escaped you. “Why are you so eager? We have all night.”
“You’re comfortable spending the night with me? You’re not scared or disgusted or…”
He trailed off at the feeling of your fingertips grazing slowly down his body, ceasing dangerously low on the fabric concealing his v-line.
“We still have a marriage to consummate.”
“You knew about that…?”
“I was discomforted at the thought of sleeping with a man the same night I’d meet him. But…” your words became even quieter, but they were certain, “I think… now that I’m aware of the honor you prioritize… I’m okay with this. More than okay.”
Zuko no longer held onto restraint as he fumbled to steer you toward his private chamber. When your bodies stumbled into the corridor, Toph, Sokka, Aang, and Katara were straining to hear if things were going smoothly with the newlyweds who had disappeared from their celebration. You halted at the sight of a peculiar man — Sokka — straightening when he realized he’d been caught with his ear against the door.
A long heated kiss was planted to your cheek while you spoke with a smile. “I was informed by some servants earlier that my husband’s friends will all spend the next three days here. That he treasured you all above anything else. I hope we’ll become equally as close during that time.”
“Are you trying to suck her face off? That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss —“
Katara slammed a hand over her brother’s mouth to muffle the heckling. “I’m sure we will. Enjoy your night. Looks like he already is.”
Zuko paused long enough to toss your weight onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. You let out a small noise of surprise while he nodded firmly to his group of friends.
“If you need anything do not hesitate to call for a servant. We will see all of you at breakfast.”
Without waiting for a response, Zuko carried you towards the entryway of the throne room, hurriedly stating that it was closest. Aang laughed when the threshold shut with a loud slam.
“Looks like he was worried for nothing.”
“Who’s next to get married in the group? Never would’ve expected him to be first.” Toph sighed, “I haven’t met anyone strong enough to outmatch me yet.”
Sokka shrugged. “Meh, I’m having to much fun playing around.”
Both Toph and Sokka swiveled to face Aang and Katara who both nervously twitched. Heavy stares were desperately avoided.
In the grand room, Zuko murmured against your mouth. His muscled chest cornered yours against his throne. You had already pulled his clothing from him down to just his underwear, delighting in the way firelight from candles outlined his blatant strength. “Tomorrow, I will dedicate my time to learning more of you. Ways a devoted husband should.” His hands caressed along your sides, fiddled with buttons.
There was a teasing look on your face when you pulled the pin that declared him Fire-Lord off his head, long hair releasing from its hold.
You grabbed him close. Soft lips grazed his earlobe.
“I’m aware of another way a husband and a wife should get to know each other.”
Zuko seated you on his throne then lowered to his knees, inching the fabric of your dress from your thighs as amber-colored eyes gazed up into yours.
“Of course, my love.”
Wet. It was all so wet.
Zuko’s saliva drooled over your entrance, tongue sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
His mouth latched onto your pussy hot and drenched. Amber eyes looked lost, unfocused, as if the intoxicating passion drawing whines from you was drowning him along with. The sight of the Fire-Lord quivering, kneeled in front of his throne while he serviced you between your thighs… The man was famished. His painfully hard cock stood upright through a tight confinement of fabric.
Closed eyes, furrowed brows, the sweet juices leaking from your cunt glossed his lips.
Messy, so unbelievably maddening.
You whimpered as legs clenched against his head.
“My lord…”
Frantically, your clothes were torn away with a loud rip. Broad fingers slid your panties to the side as boxers were haphazardly shoved down his thighs.
“Give your first order as queen, my love.” His hands softly caressed the flesh of your hips while he kissed your collarbone. “Declare what you desire of me.”
“I … I order you to make love to me.”
"From this moment forward, whatever you wish is my command.”
The delicate moan that echoed the throne room nearly made him cum on the spot when the head breached. Barely. Deliciously tight was the hole that anchored him within.
"I’m yours, my lady, all of me," In an attempt to soothe you, warming fingers massaged your waist in circles. There was a possessed look in his eyes when you watched the pleasure shown on his face. Parted lips, groans scraping from the depths of his throat. A thumb circled your quivering clit. "That’s it…”
Surprised, a broken-sounding moan left your lips when he began to thrust hard without him being fully inside yet.
Zuko was never a patient man.
Immensely infatuated with you? Yes.
Careful to remain merciful when necessary? Yes.
But patient wasn't a descriptor even his childhood friends would use for him.
Raw, like an untamed animal, each thrust shoved him deeper until your pussy was stretched to the fullest, his balls slapping your ass.
Zuko’s jerky movements melted your thoughts when his mouth attached to your neck and began to suck and bite, strong hands holding your knees over his shoulders. He wasn’t too vocal — small groans and whines doing more than enough to turn you on even more — but you were. How could you stay quiet when his cock bulled through your walls with the heat of a madman, the thumb once at your thigh returning to your clit as needy moans shifted an octave higher?
Uncontrolled, filthy taunts were whispered against your ear.
“Look at you taking me so well…”
“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue…”
“You’re squeezing me, my love, my wife… so wet…”
And when you clamped on him with a sweet cry, he groaned, forcing his length with a squelch.
"So good..." his voice fractured when your pussy squeezed tighter. "Ready to let go for me? I can feel it."
It was true. You were close, oh so close. Any sense of control slipped through your grasp. Your legs jolted with every driving thrust, wetness leaking onto the seat beneath you.
“I — I can’t…”
"Yes you can. Bless me with the expression my queen makes when she loses control. I — I’m here. I’m right here with you."
Zuko talked through your moment of pure bliss, guiding with soft whispers of worship for your body, your beauty. He begged you to cum as if it would be the last time he ever got the chance to feel you. His heat enticed. His weight cemented you to his throne. In a matter of seconds the coil snapped free. A wave of pleasure washed over you — brutal, making your head tilt back.
Your hands moved in a hurry to stifle your loud moans. They were immediately yanked away, pinned to his heaving chest.
“Don’t hide. Everyone in the palace will know you’re mine.”
His sudden possessiveness was one that couldn’t be controlled.
It strengthened at the feeling of his cock beginning to throb. The urge to stuff you filled his mind till he was nearly delirious.
“Oh god …”
One final slam lodged him deep with a low groan. Burning hands fisted the armrests of his throne, then grasped you tight when his dick pulsed, trembles shivering through his thighs.
A kiss poured longing into you until you were aching, yearning. His cock swelled and erupted, filling your already sloppy hole with a mess of cum. The entire time, Zuko whined and shook, feeling your pussy convulse to beckon more and more of his load. Your desperate mewls of his name only made him feel even dizzier, his eyes shutting tight. Curses rolled from him like a mantra. A small whisper mentioned how much he craved to see your stomach full with his child.
Scratches trailed down his chest red-stained like claw marks.
By time Zuko regained his senses the realization of how heated his body had become dawned.
Smoke wafted from the hand placed on your hip. The scorch caused you to flinch at the burn accidentally left behind as the Fire-Lord hurriedly flung himself to the ground. Zuko tensed. The scar was shaped like a disfigured handprint. If anyone saw it the first rightful assumption would be he branded you intentionally or assaulted you out of anger.
Fingertips mindlessly grazed his own scar. Breaths came faster out of panic.
“Sorry, I — sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I usually have better control —“
“I like it,” you murmured tiredly, caressing the mark, “If the council ever questions our marriage, I will show them this with pride.”
The genuine contentment on your face was everything needed to quell his racing heart.
warnings: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS! the plot of the story im making is very heavily based on the movie, so if you’re not planning on watching it yet, def be aware of spoilers in this! there’s probably some ooc, cursing, and idk lmk if there’s anything i missed!
+slow burn won in the poll so here we are!
wc 2.2k
The relationship you and Zuko had was…complicated.
You’d known each other for years, being a part of the “Gaang” back when it was still just a chaotic group of kids.
Until you ruined it.
At least, that’s how it felt.
You’d had a crush on him for years prior to actually telling him. Stolen glaces. Lingering touches. Quiet moments you convinced yourself meant something more.
So, you went looking for answers.
–
As you walk down the hallway, you feel the dark, warm, atmosphere of the Fire Nation enveloping you. Feeling that familiar uneasy feeling churning in your stomach as you’re inching closer and closer to his chambers.
Each step you take feels louder than the last.
This is stupid.
I shouldn’t be doing this
You feel your stomach turn.
What if Katara’s wrong? What if there’s nothing? What if-
Your thoughts are cut off abruptly as you hit something, something firm enough to cause you to wince as a result. You slowly open your eyes, hoping, even praying to whatever god may exist that whatever is in front of you isn’t a person. And perhaps sometimes God answers prayers, because you ran straight into the door leading to Zuko’s chambers. Embarrassing, but still better than the real thing.
Taking a deep breath, you ball up your fist, the uneasy feeling in your stomach becoming more intense as you finally knock on the firm door in front of you.
The knock echoes too loudly.
Too final.
Too late for you to back out now.
Seconds feel like hours as you await his presence, but only a few moments later do you hear the sound of the door hinge swinging open.
Zuko stands in the doorway. That same scarred face. Same guarded expression. Same intensity behind his eyes.
“What’re you doing here?” The confusion is evident in his voice as he stares at you with furrowed brows.
“Uhh.. I just.. I really needed to talk to you”
“Alright then, here I am.” He looks at you expectantly.
Fuck, I didn’t think this far.
How the fuck didn’t I think about what to say before now??
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
You brace yourself for impact, looking away from his cold stare.
Fuck it.
“Have you ever thought that there might be… y’know, something between you and I?”
Your words hang in the air immediately after you say them. You look up at his face, attempting to gauge his reaction.
“No,” he says.
A pause.
“ I haven’t thought of you in that way, before.” His tone was clean, final, unmistakable.
He parts his lips to speak again, but you don’t hear it. You’re already turning away, running. Tears brim your eyes as you round the corner, leaving the estate...swearing to yourself you wouldn’t see him again.
–
Well, never again until the infamous avatar, Aang, sends a letter to you via- pigeon? Dove? Whatever bird it was- 12 long years later.
“Hi,
Katara and I have been waiting for you to stop by again for dinner. Stop ignoring the letters please, she misses you. Anyways, I need your help collecting this really cool staff I heard about. Meet me ASAP. Thanks.
-Aang”
You stare at it for a long moment, letting out a deep sigh as you pinch your temples.
“..Of course.”
A few days later, you find yourself in Republic City, quite different from what you’re used to. Busier. Lighter. Changed in ways you still can’t fully comprehend. After settling down, you begin making your way to meet up with the others.
Along the way, you see a few people you’ve meant to check in on. Cabbage man seems to be doing well. You buy a cabbage from him. Thanking him for his consistency. After a few more irrelevant stops, you arrive at the meet-up spot.
You see Katara first, and immediately begin running towards her.
“Katara! It’s your favorite!”
Immediately, Katara’s face lights up as she rushes towards you, greeting you with a warm hug. “It’s been too long!”
“Katara, I saw you like two weeks ago. You came to my house and literally dragged me out here to eat with you.”
“We don’t need to get into specifics!” She takes your hand and brings you towards the others.
“You help save the world one time and forget all about me?” Toph teases, a faint smile evident on her face.
You can’t help but let out a laugh at her comment. “God, I’ve missed you, Toph”
“I’d miss me too, I’m wonderful.” Toph turns away, distracted by something Katara’s saying-
And that’s when your gaze finally drifts over to Sokka and Zuko, who are talking off to the side.
Sokka’s looking over guiltily while Zuko is seemingly trying to avoid eye contact.
You roll your eyes at the sight.
It’s been twelve years. How’s he still like this?
You begin walking over towards the pair, in spite of your better judgement.
Zuko’s demeanor shifts as you come closer, his posture stiffening as he notices that you’re approaching. You hear the remains of their conversation fizzle out more and more with each step you take.
“That doesn’t mean it’s not weir- Oh hey! Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Sokka scratches the back of his head with a big grin on his face.
“You don’t need to show all 32 teeth, Sokka, you’re a terrible liar”
“Yeah,” he mutters underneath his breath. “I’m still working on that.”
Your gaze then shifts towards Zuko
“Long time no see”
He lets out a forced, awkward laugh- almost as if he’s not sure what the right response is. “Yeah, been a while”
There’s a lull of silence before he picks the conversation up again.
“How have you been?”
“Fine. Can’t complain.”
He nods at your response, as if he’s not sure what to do with it. You briefly look up to see his eyes tracing your features, almost as if he was seeing them for the first time. “You’ve.. changed.”
A genuine laugh slips out of you, “That tends to happen after twelve years.”
Your eyes can’t help but wander over his newly developed features. His broader frame, longer hair, and sharpened features that had somehow shifted into something steadier over the years.
“I guess you have too.”
“Are you guys coming or not?” Katara’s voice brings you back to reality.
You turn first, nodding your head before you begin walking over to Appa with the others.
Katara takes a seat near the front, while Toph and Sokka sit next to each other behind her. At the sight, you cringe a bit, recognizing what this means for the long ride you have ahead of you. You turn your neck ever so slightly, peeking behind you to see Zuko’s eyes burning into the back of your head before he quickly looks away.
He takes a seat next to you, stiff and hesitant.
Toph and Sokka are bickering as usual, while Katara tries- and fails- to quiet them down as she focuses on finding Aang.
And in the midst of the chaos in front of you, there’s complete silence where you sit.
You start picking at your nails, suddenly made aware of the roughness of your cuticles, when a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
You turn your head towards Zuko, whose face looks slightly flushed, his breathing heavy and louder than usual.
“Uhm..”
He hesitates a bit. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment- just long enough.
“About what happened-”
“Save it. The words come off a bit more harsh than intended. “Don’t really think that’s something we have to talk about. Let’s not make this more awkward than it is..”
He nods slowly, turning to look away.
“Wow. Real friendly back there” Toph says aloud. Causing Sokka to immediately try to shush her before they return to their bickering.
After a while, the only sound is Appa’s steady breathing and the wind as it passes you by.
Until
A low rumble sounds.
You frown, glancing around, looking for where the sound came from.
“You guys heard that too, right?”
Before anyone can respond, the mountainside gives way, massive chunks of rock breaking loose and crashing downward. A violent gust of wind spirals upward from the fracture, pulling at your clothes, causing your balance to slip as Appa lurches violently. You feel yourself hovering midair, the unmistakable feeling of your heart dropping to your ass as you panic
A hand clamps around your wrist.
“Watch it!”
Zuko yanks you back into place just as Appa dips to avoid a jagged slab of falling rock. The movement is rough, unsteady- more reaction than intention.
Another chunk of rock crashes past.
He lets go almost immediately, turning away to brace himself against the saddle.
“Stay down,” he mutters.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on jumping,” you shoot back.
Another strong gust of wind pushes forward as you finally spot Aang… along with someone else.
A boy- no, a man- definitely a man- arms raised as he swiftly bends the air. Wind spirals outward towards a falling rock, holding them back from being crushed.
Just as the man’s body was about to give out, Appa’s body quickly moved through the chaos, sweeping low beneath them.
You’re barely able to process what’s happened. Next thing you know, Aang and the man- who is definitely easy on the eyes now that you’ve gotten a better look at him- are sitting safely on Appa.
“Aang!” Katara shouts as she runs up to embrace him.
Toph crosses her arms, walking a bit closer to the pair. “Couldn’t wait a day before you ran off to get yourself killed, huh?”
Your gaze drifts from Aang’s figure to the unknown one sitting beside him.
“I thought we were here looking for a staff,” You say, glancing at Aang. “At least that’s what your very detailed letter said.”
Aang hesitates, staring at the man for a while before finally uttering his next words.
“He’s.. an airbender.”
His words land heavier than expected. The man’s head tilts slightly at the mention, almost like he heard it but couldn’t bring himself to respond. His eyes flutter gently before he slumps forward, unconscious.
–
Eventually you make it back to the Kingdom, everyone’s gathered around the man as Katara works to heal him.
“He smells good for an old guy, my senses are telling me he’s pretty attractive” Toph says
Everyone's eyes cut towards her at the blunt comment.
“C’mon, just give me a straight confirmation”
“Yes, he’s attractive.” Zuko and you say it at the same time.
You’re met with some confused and shocked stares, Zuko with more than you.
Moments later, the group starts talking again, their overlapping voices filling the space.
But you stop following most of it.
Because Zuko shifts slightly beside you.
“You almost fell.”
His voice is quieter now.
You don’t look at him. “I didn’t.”
A pause.
“I had it,” you add.
“…Right.”
He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah,” Toph cuts in. “You totally had it. That’s why Sparky here grabbed you like you were about to drop off a cliff.”
“Sparky?” Sokka snorts.
“Not helping,” Katara mutters.
You exhale sharply. “Can we not do this right now?”
Silence again.
Zuko doesn’t say anything after that.
But he doesn’t move away either.
CORA’S NOTES🤤😛
man this y/n girl dramatic af if dadaman zuko saved me from falling I would’ve fell onto that dih next😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂👀👀👀😂👀👀👀😂👀👀👀👀👀
Steve’s mom repeatedly used Murray to find out of her husband was cheating and because Murray is a paranoid bastard, he investigated the whole family every time.
He knows about the women, about shady back room deals, and exactly how impressive it is that nothing fell on the Harrington name when Starcourt went down. He knows Steve’s mom store money in a secret bank account and he knows they stopped paying for a babysitter in 1972 but not plane tickets.
All to say, he knows too much about Steve.
Murray talks too much. He makes these little comments, takes these little jabs, and maybe Steve hasn’t put two and two together. Maybe he’s ignoring it but Robin isn’t.
“You knew,” She confronted Murray one day, after one too many abandonment jokes. “You knew what his parents were doing to him, didn’t you?”
“I know a lot of things, sweetheart.”
She makes a face at the pet name but stays on point, “You didn’t do anything about it.”
“What was there to do?” He asks. “The kid survived.”
“They left him alone for days, for weeks or sometimes months without enough money to buy food. They didn’t come home when he was sick. They didn’t even- and you knew. You knew all of it.”
“He was pretty friendly with Hopper,” Murray defended. “He could’ve said something at any time. Sometimes a kid’s gotta save their own bacon. I can’t do it for them.”
“Should Holly? Should the other kids?” She asks. “What are you doing here if everyone should just save themselves? He was five.”
She doesn’t give him time to speak.
She doesn’t want to talk to him ever again actually but… sometimes she thinks the only way Steve really reconciles with his childhood is viewing it as a choice. He couldn’t told people what was going on but he chose not to (though Robin has a lot to say on why that choice wasn’t a choice at all).
Maybe if he told someone things would’ve been different, or easier, or less lonely but he didn’t. What happened wasn’t okay, it just was.
She thinks it’d break him.
She thinks of he knew that someone else could’ve taken the hard steps, that someone else knew and that they did nothing…it’d break something inside him.
“Don’t tell Steve,” She says. “Don’t ever talk to him again.”
He can't stop. The doctor said he should rest but he can't. His skin feels too tight, his hands won't stop shaking, there is an ever-present ache just behind his eyes, and his mind will not quiet. The pacing helps, against all logic. If his legs are moving, his mind is not, it seems.
The moving is also distracting him from the fact he has to pee. He knows that he should just go but going pee means going into the bathroom, where that ridiculously large mirror shows him a person he barely recognizes. Of course, his bladder wins out eventually and Steve finally slumps his way to the bathroom.
He tries not to take his eyes off his hands as he washes them, but he's always been vain. Put a mirror in front of him and his eyes will wander to it.
The man looking back at Steve is strange. He looks so much like Richard Harrington, if Richard had half his head shaved from brain surgery, was riddled in scars, and had Janice Harrington's eyes. To be more accurate, his face looks like the Richard Harrington from Steve's most fond memories of him.
He's sure that his father probably looks a lot older now than he does in the memories Steve holds close from when he was 8 years old. Jesus. That would make Steve almost the same age now as his dad was then. When Steve was 8, his dad was 28. And, given the year, Steve is 30.
Which is fucking crazy. And brings him right back to the thoughts he was pacing to not think about.
It's 1996, apparently.
Steve cannot remember the last decade of his life, and it's terrifying.
He leaves the bathroom to continue his pacing, but this time it doesn't seem to keep the thoughts away.
His last solid memory is sometime in the fall of 1986, the government having just completed their shut down and subsequent takeover of Hawkins, and they'd all just completed the planning for their search for Vecna, which the Party had decided to call Crawls, capital 'C'.
So, he was a bit surprised to wake up in a hospital when his memory of the previous time he'd been asleep was in his bed at his parents' house.
He had a bit of a freakout once he learned he was not even in Hawkins. He was in Austin, Texas. Which is so far off the radar of any place he thought he would end up if he ever left Hawkins. Beyond the fact he thought he would be a townie forever, he was sure his top cities to move to would have been somewhere Robin wanted to go to collage at; Boston or Indianapolis or Chicago or New York or San Francisco.
It's possible this city was a job-based move. Robin had to have some sort of fancy job here or why else would he be here? Which brings up a whole other issue; does he have a job? Or, rather, did he? There's no way he isn't fully fucking fired by now. He was in the hospital for eleven days, three of those days being a coma, and when he woke, he couldn't remember anything.
If he had a job, he has no way of knowing. He can't even go root around the burned remains of what was, according to his license, his apartment. The whole building burned, and Steve's waiting to hear from someone if it's structurally sound enough for him to go there and look through the charred remains for any hints about his life.
His only hope right now is Robin.
The Robin of it all is confusing to him, too. His emergency contact wasn't her. It was someone named Alexander Colton. Steve doesn't know who that is, but Steve was also his emergency contact. A fact Steve learned after a few days of being awake. A doctor came into the room, looking grim, and told Steve that Alexander didn't survive his injuries. (Steve thinks he should feel something about that, but he doesn't. Nothing beyond the sympathy of a life lost and confusion. He has no idea who or what Alexander was to him beyond being close enough he was over at Steve's when the fire happened and they were mutual emergency contacts.)
He doesn't know why Robin wouldn't be his emergency contact.
He can't imagine what she's thinking right now. She must have learned his place burned down by now, right? She must be worried sick. He feels a bit ashamed that he didn't remember the phone number to her place. It's not his fault but he should remember. How could he ever forget about Robin?
It's been a couple hours since he left the message for her, but she could be at work. He doesn't know what she does or what her hours are, but that's the only idea that comes to mind. She'll call him soon. He believes that with all he is.
Briefly, Steve had thought about trying to call the others, or, like, their parents, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He doesn't want to freak anyone out yet. Not until he knows more, or remembers something. Mrs. Buckley had sounded so worried about him on the phone, saying it had been years since she'd heard from him. Which isn't, in itself, weird. Why would Steve keep in touch with Robin's parents? The weird bit is that Robin is close with her parents, and Steve kind of expected yearly, or more, visits of some kind and figured he would be involved in those.
A lot can change in ten years, though. Maybe Robin isn't as close to her parents anymore, or instead of visits, it's phone calls?
The near constant headache he's had since leaving the hospital throbs behind his eyes. He's thinking too much, and should probably lay down and take a nap, but he doesn't want to miss Robin when she calls back.
Even if he's got no idea when that will be.
He's just glad he's past his 'freaking out' phase of all this. His stay in the hospital got that all out of him. Or, at least, he's hoping it did.
This headache and a mental breakdown would be too much.
His pain wins out, though, and he goes about moving the phone as close to the bed as he can in the hopes he will wake up when it rings before turning off the lights and climbing on the bed, laying atop the bedding and getting as comfortable as he can.
Sleep takes him quickly but it feels like he's barely shut his eyes before he's opening them again.
Something woke him. He doesn't know what it was, but something did. Something in the back of his mind that just knows he needs to be alert has activated. He sits up far too quickly and easily for his injuries but that doesn't fully register yet.
All he knows is that something is off and he needs to find out what.
Scanning the room shows nothing, so he gets up. Without fully thinking about it, he moves to the door. There's a peephole he bypasses, instead flicking the lock and pulling the door open on instinct.
"El," he says, surprised.
"I go by Jane now," El, Jane, replies. She stands before him, looking nothing like he thought she would. In fact, she looks exactly the same as she did the last time he saw her; hair short and slowly growing out and still all of 15 years old.
It hits Steve then that he has not, in fact, woke up. "Oh. I'm dreaming, aren't I?"
Jane nods, and then pushes passed him into the room. Steve turns and watches her slip into the bathroom, which he realizes is lit without light. There are no lights on in his hotel room but it's bright enough to see anyway. Dream logic, for sure.
"Oh. I'm so young in your memory," Jane says before she comes back out and looks at Steve. She tilts her head slightly, and takes in Steve. He stands, still and relaxed, as Jane's eyes jump over him. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Steve shrugs. "Did Robin send you?"
"Kind of," she says. "You don't remember what happened?"
"There was a fire in my apartment building. Started in an apartment a floor below me, they said. They think I got most of these injuries trying to escape. Probably fell down the stairs or something."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks. Um, is Robin going to be here soon? Did she send you ahead?" Steve asks.
"Oh. No, she can't be here soon. Do you... want her to be?" Jane asks in return.
The question throws Steve, because in what world would he not want her here? "Of course! It's Robin. Does she... not want to be here?"
Jane frowns. "I think she wants to. So, are you changing your mind? Can I tell them where to find you?"
"What? What do you mean 'where to find me'?" Steve sucks in a sharp breath, confused and scared.
That seems to stop Jane short and they just stare at each other for a moment before Jane break that silence. "Steve. Do you remember what we talked about the last time we spoke?"
Oh. "Um, no. Or, at least, I assume not, unless we haven't spoken in ten years. That'd be insane, right?" Steve says it in a jokey way but it just makes Jane look at him in a wide-eyed startled sort of way that has him swallowing and repeating, "That'd be insane, right?"
"It has not been ten years since we last spoke," Jane says slowly, but it doesn't sound like an assurance. "It's been seven."
"No. What? No. There's no way I went seven years without talking to you," Steve denies because it can't be true. It simply can't be.
"Steve. You need to calm down. If you wake up, I'll be thrown out."
"I don't- I don't know how to calm down right now. It's been seven years since I've talked to you? What- why? Have you talked to Robin more recently than that? Why did she reach out to you, if we haven't spoken in years?"
It looks like it pains Jane to respond. "Because, Steve, it's been seven years since you've spoken to any of us. Just- wait! Wait, calm down! I can explain just-"
But Steve doesn't know how to calm down. This is not a dream, it's a nightmare. He doesn't know how to keep himself asleep through a nightmare when his body is ready to jolt him awake.
"Just- we'll come. We'll be there. Just stay there!" Jane is calling to him and she sounds far away and getting further away with each word.
The dream pops and Steve jolts awake. Pain shoots up his body at the involuntary jerking of trying to just sit up without going slow and using his good arm. He pants, feeling the panic rising as what Jane said plays through his mind again.
i need somno w subby whiny gator 😭 you wake up and he’s already whining and rubbing his morning wood against your ass
ANON I LITERALLY HAVE A DRAFT OF THIS. the way im answering this so quickly is embarrassing bye but here it issssss.
<3 <3 <3
you wake up to the heat of him, all heavy limbs and slow breath and the weight of his hand curled tight around your waist like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth. he’s behind you, chest pressed to your back, nose buried just under your jaw, and his mouth is moving—whispering something you can’t quite catch, more breath than words.
and then you feel it.
his cock, hard and hot and leaking, nestled in that soft, slippery spot between your thighs. not inside you, not yet, your panties are keeping that from happening—he just gliding. moving slow against your covered sex, making the mess that’s leaking from his tip worse with every lazy, helpless roll of his hips. he’s not even really grinding, just humping, like it’s instinct, like he’s still half asleep and aching for you.
a needy little whimper leaves him when your thighs tense around him, and it makes you smile even as sleep clings thick to your lashes.
“gator,” you murmur, voice rough and cracked with sleep.
he shudders, nose dragging along your throat. “mmph— ‘m sorry,” he breathes, thick with guilt and want. “’m sorry, mama, i just… woke up so hard, couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. tried to wait. tried to go back to sleep but—fuck—couldn’t.”
his voice breaks on the last word, and he’s already panting, already dripping. the slide of his cock between your thighs is slippery and slow, obscene in its laziness, in how needy he sounds without even trying.
“you humping me like a dog, baby boy?” you tease, all sweet and soft even half conscious.
he groans, like you’ve humiliated him, but it doesn’t stop him. if anything, he ruts harder—hips stuttering, cock dragging over your slick cotton covered skin like he needs it. “i know,” he whines. “i know, it’s pathetic. just—fuck, mama, i need you so bad. kept thinkin’ about your pussy, the way you moan when i get in deep, how tight you get when you’re still sleepy like this, oh my god—”
he’s babbling now, mouth moving fast against your skin, all those filthy thoughts falling out in breathless, frantic little confessions.
“please lemme in,” he begs, and he sounds so wrecked, like it’s pain now, like it hurts not to be inside you. “please, mama, i’ll be so good, i’ll be so gentle, promise—just need to feel you, just need—”
you reach back, still drowsy but soft on him, and push your panties aside. wrapping a hand around his slick shaft to guide him into your puffy opening. arousal pooling at the gummy soft rim— where he’s so desperate to be. he gasps when the tip slips in, whole body locking up like you’ve shocked him, and then he’s moaning into your neck, deep and desperate and already shaking.
“oh fuck—thank you, thank you, mama, fuck—”
and you can’t help it—you giggle. low and slow, wicked and amused.
“that needy for it, huh?” you murmur, hips tilting back, hot wet walls fluttering around his cock just enough to make him gasp again. “you couldn’t even wait ‘til i was awake?”
“m’sorry,” he whines, humiliated and still rutting into you, “just—feels so good—couldn’t help it—”
you clench around him again, slow and cruel, and he nearly sobs.
“look at you,” you purr, “just a pitiful little puppy humping mommy’s ass. already sound like you’re gonna cry.”
“please,” he gasps. “please, don’t tease—can’t take it, mama, i’ll be good—”
you just hum and keep the pace of your rocky hips steady, letting him work for it, letting him chase his own pleasure while you watch him unravel.
he tells you he loves you five more times before he cums, whispering it through broken sobs, face wet against your neck as he spills his white hot mess inside you with a choked cry. you don’t let go. not even when he starts trembling again, twitching and overstimmed.
you just reach back to pet his hair and coo softly, voice thick with condescension, “poor lizard. all that fuss just to cum so quickly.”
and he whimpers—miserable, blissed out, heavy cock already twitching for more.
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