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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The first time you realized the wedding was becoming a problem, it was because the palace had produced a seating chart large enough to rival a military map.
It had been spread across the long council table with colored markers, stacks of parchment, and enough notes in the margins to suggest the event was less a celebration and more a strategic siege.
A servant had been standing at attention beside it, trying very hard not to look nervous. Two ministers were already arguing over where to seat a visiting noble from the Earth Kingdom. Somewhere near the back, another official was insisting that a royal wedding should not be “too intimate,” as if intimacy itself were a threat to national security.
You stood in the doorway of the planning chamber with your arms folded and stared at the mess in silence.
Zuko, who had been pretending to read a document, looked up the moment you entered. He took one glance at your face and immediately knew.
“What is it?”
You pointed at the table. “What is that?”
He frowned, following your gesture, then sighed as though he had already regretted this meeting in advance. “A seating chart.”
“That is not a seating chart. That is an offensive battlefield.”
One of the ministers cleared his throat awkwardly. “We are simply trying to ensure proper arrangements for all invited dignitaries, Lady Y/N.”
You turned your head slowly. “How many dignitaries?”
The man swallowed. “At present? Three hundred and twelve.”
You stared at him.
Then you looked at Zuko.
Then back at the chart.
Then back at Zuko, because surely this had to be some kind of misunderstanding.
He gave you a look that was equal parts exhausted and apologetic. “I did not authorize all of this.”
“You did not stop it either.”
That was enough to make the minister shift uncomfortably, but Zuko only pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “I know.”
You walked farther into the room, your steps measured, and picked up one of the sheets from the table. It listed table assignments, ceremony order, guest ranks, tribute offerings, and something that appeared to be a full schedule of musical performances stretching into the afternoon.
“Why,” you asked carefully, “is there a second page devoted entirely to symbolic flower arrangements?”
The head steward, who had been trying to appear invisible, stiffened with professional pride. “The royal wedding should reflect the glory of the Fire Nation.”
You looked up. “With flowers.”
“Yes.”
“And three hundred guests.”
“Yes.”
“And twelve separate appetizer courses.”
“Yes.”
You lowered the paper very slowly. “Zuko.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I know.”
“You know?”
“I know.”
“Then why is this happening?”
“Because,” he said with obvious reluctance, “everyone keeps insisting it would be disrespectful to have a small ceremony.”
You blinked. “Disrespectful to whom?”
He gave you a look that said: everyone, apparently.
You stared at him for another second, then let out a breath through your nose that was just this side of a laugh. “You hate this.”
“I do not hate it.”
“You hate it.”
“I dislike it.”
“That is the same thing.”
“It is not the same thing.”
You made a small, helpless sound and set the papers back down before the urge to throw them across the room became too strong. “How did this get so bad?”
No one answered.
Zuko did not look at anyone in particular. He looked vaguely like a man who had entered a room to discuss one minor issue and had accidentally become trapped inside a national event.
You walked right up to him and lowered your voice. “How many guests did you want?”
He looked at you, and for a second the answer was already there in his expression before he said it.
“None.”
You stared.
He looked faintly defensive, as if he knew exactly how unreasonable it sounded but was prepared to stand by it anyway. “Or, at most, the people who matter.”
Your expression softened despite yourself. “That is a very small number for a Fire Lord.”
He gave a tired half-shrug. “I do not need a hundred strangers watching me promise my life to you.”
The room went very still.
It always happened when he said things like that. When the prince beneath the title slipped through the cracks in his composure and spoke as though he had not yet learned to hide how deeply he felt things.
You searched his face, then let your hand rest lightly against his sleeve.
“Zuko,” you said quietly, “you do realize this is a wedding.”
“I am aware.”
“It is supposed to be about the two of us.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you letting them turn it into a state ceremony?”
He looked away for a moment, and when he answered, his voice had dropped so low that only you could really hear it.
“Because people are watching.”
The words landed with the weight of something old.
You knew exactly what he meant. The palace knew him as Fire Lord now, but there were still too many eyes on him, too many people waiting to see whether he would fail, whether he would shrink, whether he would become his father in another form.
Some of them would always measure him through duty. Some would always think love and power should be arranged the same way: carefully, publicly, and with the approval of a room full of people who did not matter to the heart of it.
You let the silence sit for a beat.
Then you said, “And?”
He blinked. “And?”
“And what do you want?”
That question, simple as it was, seemed to confuse him more than the ministers had.
He looked at you for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “I want it to be quiet.”
One of the aides, clearly having mistaken your conversation for practical logistics, jumped in immediately. “That can still be arranged with the proper seating,”
“No,” Zuko said.
The room stopped.
He straightened slightly, and when he spoke again, the firmness in his voice made the chamber go silent at once.
“No,” he repeated. “I do not want three hundred guests. I do not want twelve courses. I do not want a ceremony that lasts all day and ends with me standing in front of every noble family in the nation while they judge the way I hold your hand.”
The ministers looked alarmed.
You almost smiled, except his expression had turned so serious that it would have felt wrong to interrupt.
“I want,” he said, his gaze now fully on you, “one room. The people who know us. No speeches longer than necessary. No parade. No performance.”
He paused, then added more quietly, “I just want to marry you.”
Something warm and aching spread through your chest all at once.
Nobody in the room seemed to know what to do with the silence that followed. One steward was staring at the wall. Another had suddenly found the floor fascinating. The minister who had started all this looked as though he had just realized he had mistakenly organized the coronation of the heavens.
You turned toward the table, picked up the thickest stack of wedding proposals, and set it carefully aside.
Then you looked at Zuko.
“You’re impossible,” you said.
He gave a grim little nod. “I have been told.”
“You do understand that the palace will never let this go.”
“I know.”
“You also understand that there will be complaints no matter what we do.”
He looked faintly resigned. “Yes.”
“And still,” you said, taking one step closer, “you want something small.”
He looked back at you, his expression softer now, a little uncertain, a little vulnerable in the way he only allowed you to see. “Do you?”
That question caught you by surprise.
You blinked. “Do I what?”
“Want something small.”
The room blurred around the edges of that moment. Not because the question was dramatic, but because it was so honest. So unguarded. He was not asking because he was certain of the answer. He was asking because he trusted you to tell him the truth.
You let out a breath and glanced around the room at the waiting ministers, the endless records, the impossible logistics, the expectations piled so high that they threatened to drown the actual reason for any of it.
Then you looked back at him and said, very clearly, “I want your wedding to feel like ours.”
His face changed.
It happened all at once, in the softening of his eyes and the tension leaving his shoulders. He heard you. Really heard you.
You reached for his hand and squeezed it once.
“We do not need a room full of people to prove anything,” you said. “We do not need three hundred guests to make this real. I do not want a wedding that feels like a performance.”
He stared at you as if the shape of the answer had not occurred to him before.
You smiled just a little. “I want to stand beside you and know that this is ours. Not the court’s. Not the council’s. Not some political display built to impress people who will probably leave early.”
A startled, almost disbelieving smile touched his mouth.
You continued, softer now, “We have spent so long surviving. Running. Fighting. Hiding. We are allowed to have something that belongs to us.”
His hand tightened around yours.
One of the ministers, gathering the courage of someone who believed professionalism could save him, cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Majesty,”
Zuko did not even look at him. “You may not.”
The man went silent.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
Zuko turned back to you and, in a voice so much gentler than the one he used for the room, said, “I just do not want our marriage to become another responsibility.”
Your smile softened at once.
“That,” you said, “is exactly why it should be small.”
He studied you for a moment, and then the last of the resistance in him seemed to go quiet.
All the tension in the room had shifted too. The ministers and attendants looked uncertain now, as if the shape of the celebration they had imagined had just been gently but firmly dismantled by the two of you standing in the middle of it.
You took advantage of the silence.
“Here is what we are going to do,” you said.
Every face in the room turned toward you.
You glanced at the clutter of plans and charts and lists. “We are going to choose a ceremony with only the people who truly matter to us. No unnecessary spectacle. No impossible guest list. No endless speeches.”
One steward opened his mouth, probably to object.
You lifted a hand. “And before anyone says it reflects poorly on the Fire Nation, let me remind you all that the Fire Nation survived a war. It can survive a smaller wedding.”
That shut everyone up.
Zuko’s mouth twitched.
You turned to him with a small, knowing smile. “A private ceremony.”
He considered that.
“Very private,” you added.
“How private?”
You looked toward the door, then back at him. “Private enough that you might actually stop feeling like you need to impress everyone in the room.”
His eyebrows lifted. “That private.”
“Yes.”
He thought about it a moment longer, then gave the tiniest nod. “I would like that.”
The minister looked horrified. “Your Majesty,”
Zuko cut him off with a look. “I said I would like that.”
The man swallowed.
You almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
Instead, you stepped closer to Zuko and lowered your voice. “You really do deserve happiness, you know.”
His eyes searched yours. “So do you.”
There it was again. That quiet, mutual stubbornness neither of you could fully escape. He had spent too much of his life believing happiness had to be earned through suffering. You had spent too much of yours learning how to survive without expecting softness in return. And now, standing in a room built from planning charts and pressure, the two of you were trying to make room for something neither of you had been taught to believe in easily.
Joy without punishment.
Love without spectacle.
A future that did not need to justify itself.
You smiled at him, and because he knew you too well, he seemed to understand the answer in your face before you gave it aloud.
“Yes,” you said softly. “We do.”
His expression changed again,this time into something quieter, more vulnerable, almost relieved.
Then, very carefully, he leaned his forehead against yours.
The room did not exist for a second.
No ministers. No seating charts. No endless list of dignitaries.
Only the two of you.
“I was afraid,” he admitted, so quietly that only you could hear.
Your hand slid up to his cheek. “Of what?”
“That it would feel wrong to want less.”
The truth of it made your chest tighten.
You brushed your thumb along his jaw and answered with complete certainty, “Wanting peace is not the same as wanting less.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then he exhaled, a long breath that seemed to leave some of the pressure behind with it.
When he opened his eyes again, there was a small, steady warmth there. “All right.”
You smiled. “All right?”
He gave a slight shrug. “We make it small.”
You grinned at that, unable to help yourself. “You say that like you’re bracing for battle.”
“I am.”
You laughed then, and this time the sound broke enough tension in the room that one of the aides visibly relaxed. A few of the others exchanged glances, perhaps realizing that the decision had been made and that resistance would only be painful.
You turned toward the table one last time. “We will need a list of the people who actually matter.”
The steward swallowed. “How many?”
You looked at Zuko, then back at the chart, and said, “Not three hundred.”
He nodded once, firmly. “Not three hundred.”
A pause.
Then, after a beat, he added, “Maybe twelve.”
You turned to him, delighted. “Twelve?”
He gave you a faintly embarrassed look. “It is a small room.”
You laughed softly and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “That is still more than I was expecting.”
“I am compromising.”
“You are being generous.”
“That is not what I would call it.”
The corners of your mouth turned up. “What would you call it?”
He looked at you for a moment, then at the room full of stunned officials, then back at you with a quiet little smile that was almost shy.
“I would call it enough.”
You went still.
Then your smile widened into something warm and tender and completely yours.
“Yes,” you said. “Enough.”
And for the first time since the wedding plans had begun, the future of it all felt exactly right.
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I can totally see a situation with a 5 years old princess in which she is bargaining to sleep with her parents, especially her mom.
Fire Lady: You're a big girl Izumi, it's time to be independent.
Izumi: That's unfair! Dad is bigger than me, he should be independent first!
It's a story Zuko would tell Izumi's future husband and Iroh II future father
Druk can relate to Izumi, once he was bigger than an average dog he had to learn to sleep in his own place.
don’t you ever grow up.
— adult!fire lord zuko x fire lady!reader. bedtime rules become significantly harder to enforce when both your daughter and husband are determined to ignore them. | wc: 1,3K
The silk of your nightgown hugged you as you unpinned your hair at the vanity, letting it finally fall loose. It had been a grueling week of royal meetings, and the quiet of your bedchamber was a welcome relief.
“I told the ministers that if they try to debate the festival logistics one more time, I'm letting Toph handle the seating arrangements,” you said, turning toward the canopy bed.
Zuko was already propped up on one elbow beneath the embroidered blankets, his hair half-down. He let out a rumbly laugh.
“Please don't. I don't think we can survive whatever she considers 'organized' seating…”
Sighing happily, you stepped up to the high mattress and slipped beneath the heavy blankets. You expected the familiar warmth of your husband, but as your feet slid further under the sheets, they brushed against a tiny, solid lump curled right in the center of the bed.
You jumped back.
“Spirits!”
From the deep shadows of the pillows, a little head with unruly dark tufts popped up. Izumi blinked sleepily at you, a triumphant grin breaking across her face.
“Surprise!”
She held up one of her small hands toward the other side of the bed. Without missing a beat, Zuko leaned over and gave her a high-five.
“Zuko!” you breathed, placing a hand over your racing heart as you settled back down. “What is she doing here again? We talked about this…”
“She had that nightmare about the sea pruners two nights ago,” Zuko said. He reached over, his large hand smoothing down Izumi’s messy hair. “I found her wandering the hall and just picked her up. I didn’t think—”
“But it’s the fourth night in a row,” you interrupted, looking between your husband and your daughter. You moved closer, trying to maintain a firm, motherly tone despite how small and sweet she looked. “Izumi, sweetie, you have a large and beautiful bed of your own. Big girls sleep in their own chambers. We established the bedtime rules for a reason.”
Izumi scrambled across the blankets on all fours, wedging her small frame right into your side. She wrapped her arms tightly around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder.
“But my room is too dark at night, Mama… And it’s lonely. Even the shadows look like monsters!”
You looked up at Zuko, silently pleading for backup, but his expression looked rather sympathetic.
“You know…” Zuko started, a sheepish smile touching his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She actually reminds me of someone else who couldn’t handle sleeping alone.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who would that be?”
“Druk,” Zuko admitted with a smile.
Izumi’s head popped up, her amber eyes wide with sudden curiosity as she sat back on her heels.
“Wait… Druk? But he’s a giant dragon!”
“Not when he was a hatchling,” Zuko said, moving even closer so the three of you were clustered together. “When the Sun Warriors first entrusted his egg to me, he was very tiny. And the very first week we moved into the palace, he refused to sleep in his enclosure. Every single night, I’d wake up because he had snuck into my room, scaled the bedposts, and curled up right on my chest.”
You stared at your husband, invested in the story as much as Izumi was, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You never told me that!”
“Because it was a disaster,” Zuko laughed. “He was breathing tiny sparks in his sleep. He nearly set my blankets on fire three times. I tried everything to enforce the rules…”
“Like?” Izumi tilted her head.
“Like putting him back, closing the doors… but he’d just wail at the threshold until my ears rang.”
“So how did you fix it?” She asked, completely captivated, her hands resting on Zuko's knee.
“Well, I realized he wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was just used to the warmth of the dragon nests,” Zuko explained, his eyes dropping fondly to his daughter. “So, I built him a smaller, cozier nest right beside my bed with heated fire stones wrapped in blankets. I told him he was a noble dragon, and noble dragons needed their own domain to guard. It took a few nights… but once he realized his nest was safe and that I wasn’t going anywhere, he learned to love his own space.”
Izumi looked at you, then back at Zuko, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
“Is my room my domain?” she asked in a hesitant whisper.
“The grandest one in the residential wing,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
Izumi let out a shaky breath. Her small shoulders slumped as she let go of the blanket, untangling herself from the sheets with slow movements. She dragged her feet across the mattress, her head hung low and her lower lip pushed out into a pout.
“Okay…” she said, as she stared at the blankets. “I’ll guard my own domain like Druk. I go back to my bed now.”
She swung her legs over the edge of the high mattress, her small silhouette looking so incredibly fragile in the dim light as she prepared to slide down.
You stared at those small feet, suspended above the floorboards, and a dizzying wave of realization hit you so fast it left you stunned.
‘She was going to jump. She wasn't asking to be carried anymore.’
The thought struck you along with the panic that meant seeing her slipping through your fingers into a big girl's world far too quickly.
Your fingers twitched against the sheets. The strict bedtime rules suddenly felt entirely meaningless… utterly hollow, honestly. And you could make an exception.
“Wait,” you said.
Izumi paused, looking back over her shoulder with hopeful eyes.
From beside you, Zuko turned his head toward you with a curious glance. “What happened?” he asked.
You leaned closer to your husband, your voice dropping to a tender murmur meant only for him.
“I don’t want her to grow up just yet, Zu…”
Turning your gaze back to your daughter, your expression melted into one of your warm smiles.
“How about one last night? You can guard our domain with us, and start fresh tomorrow. You’ve shown you’re a brave princess.”
Izumi’s face lit up.
With a joyful little gasp, she scrambled right back into the center of the bed, throwing herself happily into the space between you both.
Zuko let out a laugh, moving in to close the gap. He slid one arm beneath your neck to pull you close against his side, while his other arm wrapped securely over Izumi's back. You leaned in too, burying your face against Izumi's hair, sandwiching your daughter in a family hug.
“Too tight! I need air!” Izumi giggled, her hands pushing playfully against your shoulders as she squirmed against the tight embrace.
Laughing, you both loosened your grip enough to let her breathe. Izumi didn’t waste time and turned onto her side, rolling over to nestle herself against your chest.
“Mama? Can I—,” she yawned, “have a cuddle while Papa tells the story?” she requested lazily, as the safety of the bed took over.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
You moved to tuck yourself against Zuko’s side, resting your hand over his steady heartbeat while keeping your daughter securely in your arms still between you two.
Zuko pressed a kiss to your temple, his breath brushing your skin before he looked down at your daughter. In a soothing cadence he had mastered, he began. “Long ago, before the Caldera walls were built, there was a sleepy little turtle-duck who lived in the royal gardens, and he had a very important secret…”
note: i looooved this request!! 🥹💕lowkey gave it my own twist but i hope you like it, anon! i felt like writing something cozy to post while i work on some of the heavier emotional requests. xx
🏷️my dear taglist (based off your approval in the last whaletail island series - always open!xx): @highlady0239 @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz
You and Zuko end up having three wedding ceremonies.
The first was very small and very private, the only guests being your closest friends with Aang as the officiant.
The second ceremony happened because Iroh had missed the first one, as he was on a worldwide tea-sipping tour.
The third was held at the palace with a wedding party that ended up becoming a nationwide festival and lasted for twelve hours. By the fourth hour both you and Zuko got so overstimulated that you snuck out of your own party and went on your honeymoon.
adult fire lord zuko x fire lady firebender reader | mdni. | wc: 3,1k
summary: in which the Fire Lady has meetings to attend, and a kingdom to help run, but first she has to track down her missing husband and daughter.
content: adult!fire lord zuko x fire lady!reader, established marriage, domestic fluff, princess izumi, family dynamic, light humor, kissing, druk cameo, gaang mention.
note: no poorfread. hopefully i didn’t accidentally break any avatar lore along the way. based on this request.♡
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Your schedule had begun before the first bleeding of gold on the horizon. By midday, you had listened to three tiresome petitions, settled a petty dispute between rival merchants, and reviewed the exhaustive plans for the upcoming Festival of Harmony celebrations. You had also sat through an agonizingly circular meeting that, by all rights of efficiency, should have been reduced to a single sheet of parchment.
When you finally settled onto the high dais, you made sure to leave room beside you for your husband out of habit.
Zuko had slipped back into the palace sometime after midnight, fresh from a self-proclaimed 'sidequest' with your friends.
You had fully intended to coax the details out of him over breakfast, especially since you had remained in the capital to shoulder the festival preparations alone. That, and ensuring Princess Izumi completed her calligraphy lessons instead of smoothly convincing her tutor that practicing dragon doodles (her current obsession) counted as proper penmanship.
Unfortunately, the Fire Lord had arrived only hours before the start of your day, and left you to have breakfast on your own. You could only assume he had marched on to his next obligation.
The meeting before you was merely a dragging continuation of yesterday’s discussions regarding the festival. Most of the ministers had already begun rustling through their thick documents when Minister Qin looked up, clearing his throat.
“Should we expect the Fire Lord today, Fire Lady?”
The question was met with a few curious glances around the chamber.
You looked at the heavy iron-wood doors. At the back of the room, your chief attendant caught your eye. Nara shook her head.
“I would certainly like to,” you replied, a practiced smile gracing your lips. “But until he arrives, I suppose you’ll all have to settle for me.”
A few ministers chuckled quietly, the tension thawing. “It is always an honor, Fire Lady.”
You smoothed the silk of your robes, leaning forward. “Shall we continue where we left off yesterday, then?”
By the time you finally emerged from the council chamber, the sharp headache brewing behind your eyes had become impossible to ignore. As had the Fire Lord’s absence.
You found Nara waiting outside, a heavy stack of parchment tucked securely beneath her arm, two younger attendants trailing like shadows behind her.
“You did wonderfully, my lady,” one of them said, stepping forward to adjust the heavy drape of your sleeve.
“Thank you. Has Princess Izumi shown herself around the courtyard today?”
The two attendants exchanged a quick glance before shaking their heads.
That was unusual. Izumi practically lived to lie in wait outside the council chamber, eager to ambush you and accompany you through the rest of your royal duties after lunch whether she had been formally invited or not.
“Not at all, my lady,” Nara replied, her fingers tracing the edge of her ledger. “I can send someone to check the tutoring rooms.”
“Yes, please do.”
Nara tilted her head toward a passing attendant, a single look conveying the command.
You let out a long exhale, rotating your shoulders to ease the tension from the dais.
“Alright. Let’s move on to the next task.”
The group fell into a rhythmic step beside you.
“So, up next we have a fitting for the banquet,” Nara recited, her eyes scanning her notes. “The floral committee requires your final approval on the centerpieces. The palace artist is also requesting another sitting for your portrait…”
You let out a groan, the sound catching in your throat.
A glimpse of Zuko would have been a saving grace by now. A kiss (preferably, something slow and entirely improper for the daytime) was out of the question. Even stealing a few moments together in an empty room or corridor, the way you used to during your first years as Fire Lady, felt like a luxury from another lifetime.
“…and the dressmakers would like to discuss alterations,” Nara continued mercilessly. “That is for the immediate hour, but we could begin the trade research before the next council meeting if you wish.”
“We would need the Fire Lord for that,” you noted. “It’s vital he’s aware of the terms before we draft the decree.”
You pressed the tips of your fingers against your temple, soothing the pulse there, just as a breathless attendant hurried toward you.
He dropped into a low bow.
“My lady.”
“Yes?”
“Princess Izumi is not in the learning room. Her tutor claims she exceeded the expectations of the day, so she was allowed a few hours of rest.”
You nodded.
“Thank you very much for your assistance.”
The attendant bowed once more before quickly retreating down the hall.
Turning back to your staff, you crossed your arms.
“Do we have a single clue where my husband is hiding? Or is today the national day of missing royals?”
“I-I heard a guard mention the Fire Lord was at the eastern training grounds,” one attendant offered hesitantly.
“Today is his rest day,” the other countered. “I saw him heading toward the palace library earlier this morning, my lady.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Is Druk, perhaps… missing from the royal stables as well?”
Both attendants nodded.
You looked directly at Nara.
Zuko wouldn't simply vanish with Izumi without a word. Not because he was incapable of it; he had spirited her away countless times since she was a baby because, according to him, the dragon-back air helped her relax; but he never did so without leaving a note, or a whisper, or a touch against your shoulder to let you know.
The absence of the Fire Lord was one thing.
The absence of the princess was another.
But together? The pair were almost certainly up to something devious. Not the dangerous, nation-shaking kind of trouble. The fun kind. And, if you were being completely honest with yourself as you stood in the corridor, you couldn’t help the sharp twist of jealousy at being left behind…
Nara closed her ledger with a decisive snap, watching your expression.
“Go look for them, my lady.”
You looked at her. “But the fitting—”
“We will manage the dressmakers, they probably will appreciate to have some food anyway,” Nara assured you. “And we will find you if they grow restless. No need to worry.”
You gave her a grateful nod.
“Very well…”
You turned on your heel and set off down the corridor, adjusting your robes with a newfound purpose, completely unaware of where your husband and daughter had escaped to, but entirely intent on catching them in the act.
The palace grew less noisy the farther you ventured from the central corridors. You decided to check the royal library first.
No Fire Lord. Just rows of ancient scrolls and a very confused head archivist.
A quick detour to the training grounds proved equally fruitless; the sun-baked court was empty, save for a few master guards practicing their forms in the heat.
With a growing list of places to cross off, you pivoted toward the western gardens.
As you neared the threshold of the outer courtyard, a guard stationed near the archway caught sight of your silks.
“Your Majesty,” he murmured, offering a bow.
You slowed your pace, pausing just a few feet away.
“Have you seen the Fire Lord and Princess Izumi, by any chance?” you asked, maintaining a polite smile that hid the storm brewing beneath your surface.
Because if the Fire Lord and the heir to the throne had truly conspired to vanish for an entire afternoon without alerting a single member of the staff, they were both about to receive a very thorough piece of your mind…
“You will find them just ahead, Fire Lady,” the guard replied, gesturing toward the garden. “They have been there for some time.”
You raised an eyebrow, offering a brief nod of thanks before continuing down the path.
The deeper you drifted into the estate's private sanctuary, the more the outside world seemed to dissolve. The distant clatter of servants, the drone of ministers, and the sheer weight of your daily obligations faded, replaced only by the gentle rustle of open-air bamboo and the soft crunch of gravel beneath your slippers.
A flash of familiar crimson stretched across the grass caught your attention.
Druk was sprawled comfortably beneath the high afternoon sun, his scales absorbing the heat like rubies. With renewed determination, you stepped around the massive curve of the dragon's tail, ready to demand an explanation.
Your daughter sat cross-legged in the grass, a big leather-bound tome propped open in her lap. It was an advanced text on history of the world, far beyond the reading level of a five-year-old. Which meant she was almost certainly fabricating the entire narrative.
“…and then the dragon became Fire Lord becauseeee he is very powerful, you know,” Izumi informed the page, her tiny brow furrowed in absolute seriousness. She traced a finger over a detailed woodblock print of a map. “…but it was very difficult because dragons do not wear shoes. It was very tragic…”
You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt laughter threatening to ruin your entrance.
Right beside her sat Zuko. Or rather, he was completely dead to the world. As in, he was taking a nap.
One of his broad arms rested loosely around your daughter’s shoulders while he reclined back against Druk’s warm, rise-and-fall flank. The dragon seemed equally invested in the collective afternoon nap, the tip of his tail curving lazily around the patch of grass to form a protective barrier, keeping the outside world at bay.
Izumi delicately turned a heavy parchment page.
“…so then the dragon made a law that everyone must stop wearing shoes!”
An elegant solution to a complex political crisis, apparently.
You simply stared, letting the sheer absurdity of the scene wash over you. Your husband had missed the meeting you carried on, and somehow, he had ended up playing mattress to a dragon while your daughter dictated constitutional reforms for shoeless mythical reptiles… By all rights of the schedule, you should have still been annoyed.
Instead, your gaze lingered on the way Izumi leaned closer into her father’s side with every page she turned, making sure he remained part of her little world even while unconscious.
You took a soft step forward.
A stray twig yielded beneath your shoe.
Izumi’s head shot up instantly, her golden eyes widening as they locked onto yours.
“Mama!” she gasped.
You quickly raised a single finger to your lips. “Shhhh.”
The little girl slapped both hands over her mouth.
You walked closer, stepping onto the grass to look down at Zuko. He let out a slow breath in his sleep, his thumb twitching where it rested on Izumi's shoulder. His head remained tilted to the side, his sharp jawline relaxed. With his hair worn half-down, the long, dark strands fell softly around his face, framing his features and catching the filtered sunlight, while the top was gathered into the small, golden headpiece of the Fire Lord.
You crouched down right beside them. The temptation was simply too great; you leaned in, reaching out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from his forehead, when Izumi decided to shatter the silence.
Pointing a dramatic finger at her father, she said at a full-volume shout:
“Papa is sleeping!”
At the sudden noise, Zuko’s eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, instincts kicking in as a barrage of disoriented questions tumbled out of him.
“What? Who? Izumi—?” His panic ground to a sudden halt the moment his gaze landed on you. The frantic edge vanished from his face, replaced by a sheepish grin. “Oh. Hi…”
“Hello, Zu. How was the nap?” you asked with a smile, smoothly catching the massive history book just as your daughter tossed it your way.
Before the book even cleared the air, Izumi threw herself face-first across her father's lap.
“Ow—” Zuko huffed.
“Papa! You fell asleep!” she accused, burying her face into his chest.
“I apologize, Izumi…” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep as his arms wrapped around her to keep her steady.
You couldn't help but smile, shifting your weight as you crossed your arms. “So, how exactly did the two of you manage to go missing together?”
“Well…” Zuko cleared his throat, trying to find his regal composure while simultaneously anchoring your daughter. Izumi had already moved, flipping over onto her stomach across his lap, stretching her small arms out as she desperately tried to reach a wildflower growing just out of bounds on his other side.
Holding her securely by the waist, Zuko looked up at you. “Izumi and I crossed paths right after my morning session. She told me that her tutor had granted her some free time, and that she was heading out to find Druk to read him a story.”
You let out a soft gasp, catching your daughter's eye.
“On your own, little lady?”
“Yep!” Izumi chirped. She didn't even look up, entirely invested in her rescue mission for the flower, her legs kicking in the air.
You shook your head with a sigh, your focus going back to Zuko, who gave you a helpless look.
“… Of course, I wasn’t about to let her wander the grounds unattended,” Zuko continued, guiding Izumi just an inch closer so she could finally snag the stem. “I accompanied her, fully intending to head straight back to the council chamber once she was settled with Druk. But…”
“But my stories made him sleepy,” Izumi finished for him. She finally pulled back, clutching the flower in her fist, her bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.
“I’m pretty sure Druk was the one who was supposed to be listening,” you noted, tilting your head toward the dragon, who let out a whistling snore that sent a tiny puff of smoke curling from his nostrils.
Izumi blinked, looking at the slumbering reptile. “Oh. He’s asleep too!”
Forgetting her pout, she scrambled off Zuko’s lap, dropping her freshly picked flower on his knee.
“Druk! Wake up! You missed the part about the shoes!” She began enthusiastically patting the dragon’s scales in an attempt to rouse him.
Zuko watched her for a moment before his gaze traveled back up to you.
“I know I should have gone to the chamber,” he said. “Even though I’m sure you took care of everything. I only meant to close my eyes for a minute…”
“I know. You were missed, though,” you admitted, letting your arms drop to your sides. You stepped a little closer, the annoyance completely melting away. “I missed you. And I still want to know how everything went yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to take your hand. “You didn’t miss much…”
“That’s never true,” you countered with a roll of your eyes, stepping into his space to squeeze his hand.
His free hand drifted up to his hair, his fingers combing through the dark strands that had ruffled against Druk's scales during his nap.
“Well…”
“I’m all ears!”
Zuko let out a huff of laughter. “Katara and I spent half the trip trying to convince Aang that a four-hundred-year-old bridge was structurally unsafe…”
“Let me guess,” you interrupted. “He crossed it anyway.”
“And there’s no bridge anymore,” Zuko finalized, shaking his head at the memory.
“Why am I not surprised?”
A heavy rustle of grass disrupted the conversation as Izumi gave Druk an especially enthusiastic, two-handed shove.
The dragon grunted in his sleep, moving his massive weight to find a more comfortable position. As he rearranged his heavy coils, his long tail swept across the grass. The muscle bumped right against the back of your knees.
“Mama!”
You stumbled forward into a freefall, but Zuko’s hands caught your waist mid air, pulling you down flat against his chest instead of the dirt. The sudden weight knocked the breath from him in a gasp, but his arms didn’t wait to wrap around your back, pinning you against him.
Your faces were inches apart, your hair mingling with his where it rested against his shoulders.
“Well,” Zuko teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “This is a pleasant turn of events…”
“Blame your dragon,” you whispered, yet you didn't make the slightest effort to move.
You didn't give him a chance to tease any further. Leaning down, you closed the remaining distance between your lips. Zuko let out a defeated sound against your mouth, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck.
“Can I fit here too?”
The little voice made you both smile against each other's lips. Pulling apart, you looked down to find Izumi already maneuvering her way into the grass beside Zuko. She burrowed herself under his free arm, using his ribs as a pillow before flopping the heavy book open.
“Now we can all read together,” she decided, looking up at you both expectantly. “Laying down is better anyway.”
You chuckled, shifting around until you were tucked comfortably against Zuko’s other side, resting your head on his chest. The three of you settled into the grass, Druk’s warm flank radiating heat behind you like a furnace against the afternoon breeze.
“Fire Lady?”
You didn't even have to look up to know Nara had finally tracked you down, a junior attendant hovering nervously behind her as they approached.
Zuko let out a sigh, you felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.
“We should probably go,” he acknowledged as his grip on your waist tightened, contradicting his words.
You closed your eyes, letting the peace of the garden wash over you. The headache that had been threatening to split your skull all morning was entirely gone, and you had missed your family so much…
“No,” you said, stretching your legs out beneath your silks. “We’re going to lay with her. The urgent things have already been taken care of today.”
Raising your head enough to catch Nara’s eye, you offered a calm smile that brooked no argument.
“Nara? Please tell the dressmakers to come back tomorrow. The Fire Lord and I are occupied with state matters.”
Nara took in the scene: your finally relaxed posture, Zuko’s half-down hair, and Izumi, who was already deep into an entirely fabricated chapter about a sky bison who loved crowns.
“Understood, my lady,” Nara said, bowing low. “I shall reschedule everything for the morning.“
As the rustle of their footsteps faded back down the gravel path, Zuko let out a low laugh, his fingers tracing soothing circles against your shoulder. You tucked yourself closer against his side.
“So, the sky bison said what?” Zuko asked your daughter.
“Oh, he said… my crown is so pretty. Like the Fire Lady’s…”
Zuko pressed a soft kiss to your temple as Izumi’s voice drifted through the warm air, the afternoon sun beginning its slow descent over the Caldera.
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚
note: i had to do an embarrassing amount of research for something that was supposed to be no plot just vibes. buuuut i hope you liked it! thank you again to the request that inspired this! xx
🏷️my dear taglist (based off your approval in the last whaletail island series - always open!xx): @highlady0239 @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz
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a/n: this was very self-indulgent and it was so fun.
"Truth or dare?" You ask Zuko, a little tipsy as you sway into Katara's side. You giggle when her arm wraps around your waist, the tip of her nose tracing the line of your jaw as she smiles.
"Er...dare?" Zuko says, uncertain and a little tipsy too. Everyone's currently tipsy, the third bottle of sake almost finished as they head to a fourth. Responsibility deems that the drinking should stop here but recklesness wins—it always does late into the night.
You let loose another giggle, hiding your grinning behind your cup. You then tilt your head towards Katara's ear, whispering something that makes Katara gasp and nod in approval. Zuko briefly wonders what you two are conniving about but gets distracted by how pretty you look into Katara's arms.
He feels like he should be jealous, seeing as you're his wife. But he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it before.
With everyone in the room included.
A secret even you don't know.
"I dare you to kiss Sokka!" You whisper-yell conspiratorially and Zuko's eyes widen, immediately looking towards Sokka who appears just as shocked.
"Um?" He tries as Sokka goes, "Whaaaaaaaat?!"
"Yes!" Toph cheers, stomping her feet giddily. "Oh man, I've wished for times like these."
"You have!?" Sokka and Zuko shout in unison, equally stunned.
Aang nods solemnly, splayed across your and Katara's laps. He's busy playing with your fingers, a mischievous smile curving his lips.
"She has," he responds. "We've spoken, in detail, about how we'd kiss everyone in the group."
Toph smirks in your direction. "I'd kiss you with so much tongue, baby girl."
"Promise?" You purr as Katara says, "Only if I can watch."
"What is happening?" Zuko says weakly, overwhelmed and Sokka snorts, his own shock having eased into something calmer. "How did we get here?"
Sokka shrugs. "When you have this many hot people on a team, it's kind of inevitable." He then turns to Zuko, cups his face and grins. "Promise me you won't leave your wife after I give you the kiss of a lifetime."
"You can join us!" You yell excitedly.
"Oh hell yes." Sokka fist pumps and Zuko thinks he may have a conniption. Especially when Sokka's handsome face is leaning in, his plush lips getting closer and...
⤷ life's toughest decision: which chiikawa plush are you buying?
dan heng, amidst all judgement, was standing in front of a miniso display. dressed in his usual casual wear and totebag, he held in his hands two similar, but very different plush keychains. he squeezes hard with his thumb against the stomach—eyes narrowing in focus as he watches the head expand slightly in his grip.
which chiikawa keychain would she like the most? he thought to himself. although he has known you for years, (three to be exact) gift-buying was never his strong suit. sure, he knew what you liked, but every time he visits a store, he is frozen with insecurities and worry. he’s not concerned about you being disappointed, its moreso the idea of wanting to see your face light up with excitement that he is chasing.
you’ve always enjoyed his gifts. every time he travels with his family, he makes a note to bring back something for you. when he visited china, he brought back a dozen boxes of make up items for you to use. from the prettiest, strawberry shortcake shaped powders to judydoll’s yoyo balm and contour palette, he has brought back anything you could ever need. it has become a problem for you because you’ve started running out of things to put his gifts on. your pegboard is drowning in plush keychains and small prints signed by your favorite voice actor.
everyone, including the small children who begged their parent to take them to minso, were watching carefully behind shelves. they too were wondering: which one is he going to buy? will it be the chiikawa with the perfectly pink pajamas? or will he go for the more minimalistic, plain one with its bear bag? sure, he could buy you two–he keeps thinking about it, however, you’ve scolded him one too many times about having too many keychains.
closing his eyes, he lets out a deep sigh. perhaps he should consult someone about this. dan heng reaches into his pocket and pulls out a list of contacts. the first name he immediately crosses out in his mind is welt. the man is a little too old to keep up with pop culture references, and dan heng can already imagine him saying: get the simplistic one, that way, any bag would match with it.
dan heng looks down at the shelf. there are only three pajama plush keychains left. the plain ones still have six. it would be reasonable to get the one that is the most popular, no? if it doesn’t buy it now, what if they don’t restock anymore? what if he regrets choosing the plain one?
so he looks again at his other contacts. himeko, wise and thoughtful, would say to get the pajama one. its adorably cute and gushing with personality. it would fit you perfectly to a t. you could put it on the pegboard with all the other pink keychains he bought for you. it would even match the yoyo balm you have on your bag. surely, this means he’ll finally leave miniso with the perfect gift for you.
there is still this nagging voice at the back of his head though. and in order to make sure all worries are dispelled, he decides to click on a very familiar name. it rings two times before it finally makes it to the other caller.
“hey dan heng! what’s up?” march’s cheerful voice perks up.
“i need your help deciding on what keychain i should buy for (name). you cannot tell her though. it would ruin the surprise if she knew.”
march, on the other side of the line, has to restrain a mysterious giggle creeping up at the back of her throat. she clears it immediately by coughing a little before pushing the phone close to her ear. “ah, what kind of keychain is it?”
“its one of those chiikawa ones. the white… hamster-looking thing. there is a plain one with a little bear bag. the other one is wearing a fluffy pink pajama. which one do you think i should buy?”
“that is indeed a hard choice…”
dan heng can hear her hum on the other side of the line. there is a few seconds of incoherent mumbles on her end. he waits patiently for her answer and it comes back more cheery than he expected.
“get the pajama one!”
“hm. what is your reasoning?”
“uh… maybe because its the cutest one?”
the man lets out a satisfied hmph. “alright. i will take your word for it. himeko also agreed on that one, so based on general majority, this is the one i will buy. thank you, march.” he immediately hangs up the phone and puts the regular chiikawa back on its shelf, finally freeing him from dan heng’s clutches.
୧ 🍰‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆
dan heng decides to meet up with you at the library. with the chiikawa keychain tucked away in his pocket, he approaches the table. you were sitting at the center, hair tucked behind your ear as you pressed a pencil against the end of your lip, focused on the textbook in front of you. lately, physics has been kicking your arse–as you would put it, so you’ve spent the last week heavily focused on catching up on lectures.
he doesn’t notify you of his presence just yet. he only stands for an extra minute, admiring the way you look today. your outfit wasn’t anything grand but it still catches his eye nonetheless. the focused look in your eyes, the way you’re fidgeting and flipping through pages, it’s like cupid shot an arrow through his heart.
everyone knows he is completely whipped for you.
he takes the wooden chair next to you and sets down his bag. you turn your head up at him and smile, the room brightening up by your expression of happiness.
“i didn’t even notice you! you walk so quiet. could you imagine if you scared me?”
taking out his notebook, dan heng chuckles, “i think i’ve done that on a couple of occasions. i’m so used to having to tiptoe around stelle’s room. she’s a light sleeper so getting water was like playing a horror game.”
“no way! she always looked like a heavy sleeper to me…” you’re surprised at this sudden piece of information.
the stelle you knew was always digging around local trash cans for treasure. she invited you to dumpster dive behind a local sephora. just when the girl found something interesting, security arrived. the two of you had to book it across the parking lot to reach the getaway driver: march. when you got home that night, you knocked out immediately. it took your mother shaking you awake by the shoulder before you turn into sleeping beauty.
“that girl is always up to the weirdest things.” dan heng sighs alongside you. he wasn’t short of drama from stelle. her and her twin brother were the biggest troublemakers. one time, the two of them tried making breakfast for everyone in the astral group chat, only to accidentally burn water. to this day, no one knows how it was possible.
“anyway, i have something for you today.”
your eyes lit up, “another gift?”
“of course.” he pulls out the chiikawa keychain and holds it up to you. “i thought this would match with your bag. there was only three left at the store.” you took it into your hands and immediately started pinching the poor hamster’s cheeks. the pajama was unbelievably soft to the touch.
“do you like it?”
“like it? i love it!” you coo, “he’s so cute in his little outfit.” you reach for your bag and taking the ball chain, you unclasp and attach it to the handle of your purse. “i’m surprised you got one of these! i heard from so many friends they were sold out. i asked my mom to buy it for me but she couldn’t find it either.”
the look on your face gave him big relief. he’s happy to see that you liked the gift. it was even better knowing that you’ve been wanting it for a while. it must have been perfect luck that the miniso he visited had it in stock. he had no idea it was a highly sought after item at first. he just knew chiikawa was popular and wanted to buy it for you since you off-handedly mentioned it. seeing all this distraught children’s faces when he walked out of the store with one made more sense now.
“i also have something for you!”
dan heng hums, curiously tilting his head, “you do?”
“yep!” popping the p, you take out a keychain from your bag. while dan heng bought you the pajama chiikawa, you got him a pajama hachiware. they were the perfect duo, just like you and dan heng. shaking with happiness, your legs were bobbing up and down beneath the table.
he holds the plush in his hands. “how did you know to get this one?”
with an eye roll, you point towards your phone, “march and i were already going shopping when you called. you should have seen the look on her face—she was like a deer in headlights. we were already shopping for you and it was perfect timing that you told her you’d get this one.”
your smile grew wider, “so i got this one so we can match! isn’t it super cute?”
“yes, this is really cute.” dan heng’s face brightened up, “you didn’t have to buy me anything, but i won’t refuse a gift from you. thank you,” he presses a kiss to the side of your temple, causing your face to explode with heat. “i guess you want more matching gifts for the future?”
the grin on your face tells him everything that day. webbing your fingers together, you scooch closer to him, enough to make it easy for you to lean your head against his shoulder. thank goodness the two of you were in the secluded part of the library. away from prying eyes so he can revel in your warmth. rather than studying, he takes a few minutes resting his head against yours.
he will make a mental note to always buy matching items for you now.
