Er4sd3r

The Eyes Chico.... They Never Lie

So tread carefully when wandering through these halls. Behind every glance hides a secret, every smile carries intention, and some eyes are far too dangerous to look into for too long.

[CLASSIFIED ARCHIVE ENTRY — ACCESS GRANTED.]

Within these walls you’ll find: — obsessions disguised as love — pretty lies wrapped in silk — red-stained promises — heartbreak, yearning, and people who feel too much

The atmosphere is dark. The tension is worse. And the eyes?

They’ll tell you everything long before the mouth ever does.

Proceed at your own risk.

Inbox / Requests: OPEN Backup Acc: In Progress There’s something unsettling about being watched. Maybe it’s the red stare hidden behind the dark. Maybe it’s the way some people look at you like they already know every secret you’ve buried. Enter THE VELVET FILES at your own risk. And whatever you do… Don’t look too long into the SCARLET EYES

Crimson Archives #1

[The records don’t end here. More classified entries, late-night transmissions, and dangerous fixations have been scattered across other archives.]

Track the signals carefully: AO3 ARCHIVE: @Er4s_d3r WATTPAD FILES: @er4sder ADDITIONAL TRANSMISSION LOGS: ERROR

Classifications:

#erasderarchives - Collection Of All My Writings #erasderrecords - My Inbox #erasderfragments - Snippets Into My Thoughts

In Your Corner

a/n: Why write one chapter when you can spend three hours staring at a wall thinking about it instead? Anyways, welcome back to another episode of "Just Kiss Already." Enjoy! pairing: Boxer!Zuko x Medic!Reader summary: Reader arrives at the gym earlier than expected, catching Zuko completely off guard. As old friendships are rekindled and familiar faces return, both are forced to confront just how much—and how little—has changed since high school. warnings: still none. taglist: @clockworkgraystairs @pdacex series: part one

"Can we get a lock on the water containers? Or maybe some cuffs so Toph can't access all the water equipment so easi—"

Far too caught up in his complaints, Zuko failed to notice the laughter drifting from his uncle's office. So when he pushed the door open, towel still slung over his shoulder as he dried off from training, he came to an abrupt halt. His uncle was laughing. More importantly, there was someone sitting across from him.

You were supposed to arrive in two days. Zuko was sure of it. He had marked it on his calendar. And just like that, every ounce of annoyance drained from his body as he stared at the back of your head.

Your hair was the same length.

He remembered spending entire classes slouched over his desk, watching it sway whenever you moved. Watching it brush against your shoulders whenever you leaned over to whisper something to Katara while the teacher wasn't looking.

Of course, he'd eventually been forced to break the habit. Mostly because Toph noticed. And because Sokka had the self-restraint of a toddler.

"AHAHAHA! FROM THE WAY YOU'RE STARING, YOU SHOULD BE GLAD HER BACK IS TURNED TO YOU!"

Sokka had practically fallen out of his chair laughing as he pointed accusingly at Zuko. Meanwhile, Zuko had nearly died on the spot.

"Sokka, make your way to the principal's office. Now." Thankfully, the teacher had intervened before Zuko could launch himself over the desk.

A small cough dragged him back to the present. Zuko blinked. Right. He was doing it again.

"Zuko?" Iroh sat behind his desk, leaning slightly to the side as he gave his nephew a look that was equal parts concern and panic. "I forgot to tell you, but our plans seem to have changed for the better."

At the sound of his name, you turned around. And suddenly Zuko remembered how to forget every word in the dictionary. You immediately stood and bowed politely.

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity."

Out of your sight, Iroh began frantically waving his hands at Zuko. Say something. Anything.

"Please," Zuko finally managed, stepping forward. "You don't need to do that." Great. Wonderful. Excellent contribution. Maybe staring at the back of your head would've been the safer option, because now that he was actually looking into your eyes after all these years, he couldn't think of a single intelligent thing to say.

Across the room, Iroh silently rubbed a hand down his face. He really should've anticipated this. Luckily—or perhaps unluckily—the office door burst open before the awkwardness could continue. "You big baby, it was just water! Besides, I was helping you build more back muscles by making you fall on the slippery flo—" Toph stopped.

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes widened. Then her grin spread from ear to ear. "What?" she exclaimed, immediately marching toward you. "What are you doing here?" Before you could answer, she threw her arms around you. "It's nice to see you again."

You laughed and hugged her back. "It's nice to see you too, Toph."

When she finally pulled away, she simply stood there staring at you. You stared back. Iroh stared at Toph. Zuko stared at the floor. The silence stretched. "Well..." you began awkwardly. "Should I—"

"Wait a second." There it was.

Toph's expression shifted. Her head tilted. Then her gaze dropped toward the equipment bags sitting beside your chair. "Oh."

A beat. Then another. And suddenly that familiar mischievous grin returned. You swore you heard Iroh squeak. "Oh." Her grin widened. "Oh, you're the new medic." Turning toward Zuko, Toph planted her hands on her hips and shot him the most dramatic wink imaginable. You immediately burst into laughter. The tension that had been suffocating the room finally popped. Zuko visibly relaxed at the sound, though he still groaned in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Iroh quickly rose from his chair and began waving his hands through the air as if physically shooing away the awkward atmosphere. "Perhaps," he said smoothly, "we should show our newest medic her room." He shot Zuko a meaningful look.

"Ah. Right." Grateful for the escape, Zuko immediately crossed the room. Ignoring Toph's snickering and your lingering giggles, he bent down and effortlessly lifted your equipment bags.

Then he glanced toward the doorway. A silent invitation. Follow me. And so you did. The office door closed behind you. For a few moments, Toph and Iroh simply stood there in silence. Then Toph slowly turned toward him. "For an old man, you're pretty persistent and cunning, huh?" She leaned against his shoulder and wiggled her eyebrows.

Iroh immediately shrugged her off. "There is a word for it." Straightening the papers on his desk, he smiled smugly. "It's called wisdom."

A pause. Then he added, "And being an absolute goat."

Toph barked out a laugh so loud it echoed through the office. "HA!" The force of her slap against his back nearly sent Iroh face-first into his desk.

.

The walk through the gym was thankfully quiet. Not awkward. Just quiet. Zuko seemed content to let you take everything in, and honestly, there was plenty to look at.

Several training rings occupied the center floor. Fighters sparred under the watchful eyes of coaches while others wrapped their hands nearby. The rhythmic sounds of gloves striking heavy bags echoed throughout the building.

The entire place felt alive.

You were still admiring the atmosphere when Zuko stopped in front of a private door tucked away from the main floor. He pushed it open.

"Here we are." Stepping inside first, he placed your equipment bags beside a reclining chair that looked suspiciously expensive.

Your brows lifted. The room was significantly larger than expected. A treatment table occupied one side. Cabinets stocked with medical supplies lined the walls.

The opposite side looked entirely like Zuko. Training schedules. Trophies. Photographs. Shelves stacked with wraps, gloves, and equipment arranged with near obsessive precision.

You slowly turned toward him. "Don't tell me you live here."

A laugh escaped him. "No."

Your eyes narrowed. "You hesitated."

"I considered it."

"There it is."

His smile widened slightly. "Uncle threatened to drag me home if I tried."

You laughed, shaking your head. Somehow that answer felt completely believable. "You haven't changed, Zu'."

The nickname hit him harder than any punch he'd taken that week. Years passed, and somehow you still called him that. Zuko looked away for a moment, pretending to examine one of the shelves.

"You haven't changed either."

"Oh?" You turned toward him.

His gaze lingered on you for a second before settling somewhere safer. "You still look like you're planning something."

A grin spread across your face. "That's incredibly vague."

"It's incredibly accurate."

"Hm."

You wandered further into the room, stopping in front of a framed photograph. It showed a much younger Zuko standing beside Iroh after a match, holding up an oversized trophy while looking thoroughly unimpressed about it. Your smile softened.

"Your first championship?"

"Unfortunately."

You looked over your shoulder. "Unfortunately?"

"The trophy was bigger than me."

You laughed again. Zuko found himself staring for a moment longer than necessary.

"You know," you said, tracing a finger along the edge of the frame, "I don't think I've ever seen a photo of you smiling."

"I smile."

"You tolerate photographs."

"That's practically the same thing."

"It really isn't."

For a second, neither of you looked away. Something shifted. Not uncomfortable. Not awkward. Just...different. Older. The years between you suddenly felt much smaller than they should have.

Then, naturally, Toph ruined it. "ZUKO!" Her voice echoed from somewhere outside. "GET OUT HERE SO I CAN HUMILIATE YOU IN FRONT OF YOUR NEW MEDIC!"

You immediately burst out laughing. Zuko closed his eyes. "She gets worse every year."

"I don't know." You folded your arms. "I think she's charming."

His brows lifted. "You're the reason she behaves like this."

"That's a bold accusation."

"It's an accurate accusation."

You smiled. He smiled back. And for a brief second, things felt almost easy. Like they had back then.

"Sounds like she needs you."

Zuko glanced toward the door before nodding. "Unfortunately." As he turned to leave, his attention caught on a box of spare bandages sitting on the shelf behind you.

Without thinking, he stepped closer. Your breath caught. His arm reached past your shoulder. Close enough for the scent of soap and sweat to linger in the air between you. Close enough for you to suddenly become very aware of how much taller he'd gotten.

The bandages disappeared from the shelf. Zuko stepped back as if nothing had happened. "Settle in." His voice was calm and steady. Entirely unfair. "If you need anything, let me know."

Then his eyes flicked toward a shelf of gloves. "And don't touch those."

You stared. "Seriously?"

"They're organized."

"You think I'm going to rearrange your gloves?"

"I don't know what you're capable of anymore."

A laugh escaped you. Zuko's mouth twitched. Satisfied with himself, he headed for the door. "Welcome to the team."

And before you could come up with a response, he was gone. The room suddenly felt much quieter. You looked around once more before your gaze drifted toward the closed door.

Now that you thought about it... He really had changed. He was taller. Broader. More confident. The awkward boy from school had disappeared somewhere along the way. And unfortunately for your peace of mind, he had become ridiculously handsome in the process.

I'd lean into the fact that their friendship has always sat in that uncomfortable space between friends and something more. Neither of them crossed the line, but both of them got close enough to feel the heat of it. The flashback should feel innocent on the surface, but obvious to the reader in hindsight.

.

Now left alone with your thoughts, you desperately searched the room for anything that would distract you from Zuko and his infuriating transformation into a man.

Your eyes landed on a photograph tucked between two trophies. Curious, you carefully slid it free. The edges were worn with age, but not neglect.

It was your old friend group.

Katara and Aang stood together at the center, hands intertwined as they smiled brightly at the camera. Sokka was frozen mid-jump behind them, preparing to launch himself onto Aang's back. His mouth was open in laughter.

Toph stood behind Katara with one hand on her hip and the other making bunny ears behind Zuko's head.

And then there was you. Standing at the edge of the group. Smiling. Pointing directly at the camera. Your eyes drifted toward the figure beside you in the photo.

Zuko.

His arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, as natural as breathing. As though he'd done it a hundred times before. He was leaning down toward you, shoulder pressed against yours, face close enough that if either of you moved an inch—

Your stomach twisted.

Funny. You didn't remember him standing that close. A small laugh escaped you. The photograph practically radiated chaos.

Then you noticed the luggage piled around everyone's feet. Suitcases. Duffel bags. Backpacks.

And suddenly the memory came rushing back.

Okinawa. Senior year. The academy's final camping trip before graduation. According to the school brochure, the trip was designed to encourage teamwork, independence, and lasting memories. According to the students, it was an excuse to escape classes for a week.

Before the camp coordinator had even finished explaining the rules, Sokka and Toph had already vanished in search of food and possibly alcohol. Aang had gone searching for them. Katara had gone searching for Aang.

Which left you and Zuko. Unsupervised. A mistake every teacher at the academy should have known better than to make.

"You know," you said as the two of you wandered through the empty campgrounds, "for someone constantly being accused of being responsible, you spend an alarming amount of time getting into trouble."

Zuko scoffed. "You literally suggested this."

"You agreed."

"You made it sound convincing."

You grinned. "So what you're saying is that this is actually your fault."

"That's not even remotely what I said." The smile tugging at his lips ruined the seriousness of his tone.

The two of you slipped into one of the unused activity cabins. The building was empty. Dark. Perfect. Your eyes immediately landed on a stack of spare banners. A grin spread across your face.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Absolutely not."

You had already grabbed one. "Imagine how funny it'd be if we replaced the camp welcome sign."

Zuko sighed. Then immediately started helping. "You're a terrible influence."

"And yet here you are."

His shoulder bumped yours. Lightly. "You'd fail without me."

Your brows rose. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I would thrive without you."

"You got lost three times this morning."

"That happened once."

"Twice."

"Once."

"Twice."

You pointed at him accusingly. "You keep track of entirely too many things about me."

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Something shifted. Briefly. Zuko's eyes met yours. The smirk on his face faded. Just slightly. Long enough for your chest to tighten.

Then— A flashlight beam swept across the room. Both of you froze.

"Who's in there?" A voice called out.

You immediately panicked. Zuko immediately swore. The cabin monitor stepped into the doorway. The flashlight landed directly on you.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me."

"There they are!"

"RUN!"

You didn't need to be told twice. The two of you bolted. Laughter spilled from your lips as you sprinted through the campgrounds. The monitor's shouting echoed behind you. The flashlight beam bounced wildly through the darkness. "STOP RUNNING!"

"No!" you yelled back.

"NO!" Zuko agreed.

The monitor sounded personally offended. You rounded a corner. Then another. Your lungs burned. Your legs ached. And then you spotted it. "THERE!"

Without thinking, you grabbed Zuko's wrist and dragged him into the narrow gap between two buildings. The alley was tiny. Far too tiny. The second you both stumbled inside, reality hit. There wasn't enough room. At all.

Your backs pressed against opposite walls. Your chests pressed against each other. Your breaths tangled together in the darkness. The sounds of running footsteps grew closer. Then passed.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Your heart hammered against your ribs. Partially from running. Partially from— You swallowed. Zuko was staring at you. Or maybe he had been the entire time. It was hard to tell. The moonlight barely reached the alley. But you could still make out the shape of him. The rise and fall of his chest. The loose strands of hair falling across his forehead. The way his hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

Neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge it. Slowly, your eyes lifted to meet his. A mistake.

A terrible mistake.

Because suddenly all you could think about was how close he was. How easy it would be to—

A shout echoed somewhere nearby. The spell shattered instantly. You jerked your gaze away.

"So..." Your voice came out embarrassingly small.

"We're probably getting detention." Zuko let out a quiet laugh. The sound rumbled through his chest. You felt it. Which somehow made everything worse. "Worth it."

Your heart skipped. And the worst part? You couldn't tell whether he was talking about the prank. Or the fact that he'd gotten caught with you.

A knock at the door pulled you from the memory. You blinked. The photograph remained in your hands. For a moment, you simply stared at it. At the younger versions of yourselves. At Zuko's arm around your waist. At the smile neither of you had realized meant anything back then.

Or perhaps it had.

In Your Corner

a/n: I fear I've fallen victim to Dada Zuko and his ridiculously broad back. Tragic, really. 😔 Anyways, enjoy my latest brain rot. If enough of you yell at me nicely, I may or may not update the next part faster. paring: Boxer!Zuko x Medic!Reader summary: Forced to hire a medic after collecting injuries like they're trophies, Zuko finds himself face-to-face with a familiar name from his academy days. Unfortunately for him, Uncle Iroh is convinced this is the perfect opportunity to expand both his medical team and his social life. warnings: currently? none. series: part two

Zuko had spent most of his younger years perfecting every technique, every jab, every movement.

Training sessions with his instructors often stretched far longer than scheduled, and practice matches were rarely allowed to end before Zuko deemed them satisfactory.

If it were up to him, he would have trained until dawn every day. At least until his technique met his standards. His father had always approved of such discipline.

Unfortunately, everyone else found it concerning. And so, after one too many bruised ribs and split lips, Zuko found himself being pressured into hiring a medic.

Which was how he ended up sitting at his desk, still sweaty from training, staring at an absurd pile of profiles his uncle had assembled.

There were middle-aged women with decades of experience. Stern men who looked like they smiled twice a year. Several eager young medics whose profiles practically screamed please hire me.

Zuko was only twenty, so naturally Iroh had included plenty of candidates around his age. No doubt hoping his nephew might accidentally make a friend in the process.

Or perhaps something more. The thought made him groan. Then he reached your profile.

And paused.

Twenty years old. Three months younger than him. The photo immediately caught his attention. Not because you were smiling. Quite the opposite. Your expression was perfectly neutral, likely at the photographer's request. Professional. Serious.

Yet somehow Zuko could still see traces of the troublemaker he remembered.

You had attended the academy with him and Azula.

From his memories, and according to the profile, you were originally from the Southern Water Tribe and had been close friends with Katara.

Zuko found himself remembering old school days: Him. Aang. Katara. Toph. Sokka. You.

A bizarre collection of personalities constantly finding themselves in trouble. A soft chuckle escaped him. The timing was unfortunate because that was precisely when Iroh entered the room.

"Have you narrowed down your options?" his uncle asked.

A hand settled on Zuko's shoulder before Iroh's eyes drifted toward the profile resting atop the pile. His smile widened immediately.

Zuko narrowed his eyes.

"No." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm currently trying to determine whether you intentionally placed her on top..."

His fingers tapped against your profile. "...or if this is a very suspicious coincidence."

"It is a coincidence." Iroh answered immediately.

Which was exactly why Zuko didn't believe him. The older man looked far too pleased with himself.

Pushing away from his desk, Zuko stood and stretched his aching muscles.

"You busy yourself too much with boxing, Zuko. Your friends are off living—"

"Are you implying that I'm not living, dear uncle?" Zuko smiled fondly, leaning back against his desk.

"Katara and Aang are married now. They travel the world together."

"And good for them."

"Sokka has built a successful business."

"Also good for him."

Iroh sighed.

"And yet somehow, all three of them still find time to maintain relationships outside of their careers."

Zuko immediately groaned.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The real conversation you wanted to have."

Iroh's brows furrowed in mock confusion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Zuko folded his arms across his chest as his uncle's smile widened. "You think I work too much."

"You do."

"You think I should spend less time training."

"I do."

"And you think hiring a medic is somehow going to solve all of that."

"No."

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No," Iroh repeated. "Hiring a medic will solve the problem of you repeatedly returning home with injuries and pretending they don't exist." The older man gestured toward the bruise darkening Zuko's jaw.

"That, for example."

Zuko instinctively touched the spot. "It barely hurts."

"You said that about the broken rib."

"It wasn't completely broken."

"Zuko."

"Fine. Slightly broken."

Iroh pinched the bridge of his nose.

For a moment, silence settled between them. Then his uncle's gaze drifted toward the profile still sitting atop the pile. Your profile. "I merely thought it wouldn't hurt to hire someone familiar."

Zuko followed his gaze. "Hm."

"You knew her."

"We attended school together."

"And?"

"And what?"

Iroh looked at him expectantly. Zuko stared back. His uncle continued staring.

"...And she was friends with Katara."

"Anything else?"

"No." Iroh hummed.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You have that look."

"What look?"

"The one where you've already decided something and are waiting for me to figure it out."

A laugh escaped Iroh. "I assure you, Zuko, I have decided nothing."

Neither of them believed that.

Zuko glanced down at your profile once more. Your picture stared back at him, serious and unsmiling. He remembered that expression. Usually it meant you were about to do something incredibly stupid. Or convince someone else to.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it. Unfortunately, Iroh noticed immediately.

"Oh?"

"Don't."

"Oh, I didn't say anything."

"You made a sound."

"I simply found it interesting."

"Uncle."

Iroh lifted both hands in surrender. Still smiling. Zuko shook his head and picked up your file.

"There is nothing wrong with being a boxer, Zuko. Nothing wrong with going professional either. In fact, if you didn't, I would be slightly disappointed."

Iroh made his way across the room before lowering himself into the chair opposite his nephew. "But there is also nothing wrong with having a life outside of it."

Zuko sighed. "There it is again."

"What is?"

"The lecture."

"It is not a lecture."

"It always starts with those exact words."

Iroh's smile widened slightly. "Perhaps. But that does not make me wrong." His gaze drifted toward your profile once more. "You spend every waking hour training, recovering, or preparing for your next match. Your world has become very small, Zuko."

Zuko followed his uncle's gaze. "I like my world."

"I know." The answer came gently. "But there is nothing wrong with expanding it."

Silence settled between them.

Iroh leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps hiring someone familiar would do you some good. Reacquaint yourself with an old classmate. Catch up with an old friend."

Zuko stared at him. Then narrowed his eyes.

"So you tricked me into agreeing to hire a medic when this was actually an elaborate attempt to find me a girlfriend."

A laugh escaped Iroh. "Of course not. You did look at her profile the longest though."

"I looked at all of them."

"You smiled."

"I am smiling right now."

Iroh shook his head, though his amusement was obvious. "It is still wise to hire a medic. You need someone capable of ensuring you are in the best condition possible before every match."

Rising from his chair, he straightened his robes. "If that medic also happens to be someone you already know, then all the better."

"And if we happen to fall hopelessly in love?"

Iroh paused at the doorway. "Then I suppose that would be an added benefit."

"Uncle."

"What? I said no such thing."

"You implied it."

"I implied nothing."

The older man turned to leave, though not before casting one final glance toward the profile resting on Zuko's desk. "Take my advice, Zuko." His nephew looked up.

"I have yet to steer you wrong."

And with that, Iroh disappeared into the hallway. The room fell silent. Zuko's eyes drifted back to your profile. Your expression remained just as serious as before.

For someone who had caused so much trouble during their school years, it was a remarkably misleading photograph.

He picked up the file once more. You were qualified. Experienced. And familiar. That was reason enough.

Why not?

Setting your profile aside, Zuko gathered the remaining files into his arms before neatly returning them to their folder. When he finished, only one profile remained on the desk.

Yours.

Reaching for a pen, he signed the approval form attached to the back. The ink had barely dried before he slid the file toward the edge of his desk.

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THE FOLLOWING CONTENT WILL NOT APPEAR WITHIN THESE ARCHIVES:

non-con / dub-con

incest / stepcest

illegal age gaps

scat, vomit, piss, or similar bodily content

excessive gore or mutilation

divider credits belong to: img-luvr

What He Came Home To

Exiled From Eden Pt 1. Pt 2.

In Your Corner Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3.

Tales from the Four Nations

What He Came Home To: After years of loneliness and heartbreak, Zuko finds himself surrounded by the one thing he never thought he’d have: a loving family. In the quiet intimacy of palace life, he learns that home was never a place — it was always you.

Exiled From Eden Pt 1. Pt 2.: A story about forbidden love, devastating timing, and two people who spend years denying the feelings that were always written in their eyes. 1. Some loves are ruined not by lack of feeling, but by the fear of admitting them too late. 2. After years of yearning and missed chances, Zuko must decide whether he’ll lose you forever or finally fight for the life he truly wants.

In Your Corner Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3.

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BLURBS Take That, Sokka

a/n: Finally 😞 I was blasting Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry into my ears while writing this, so honestly that song carried half the emotional damage here. Also, the amount of Dada Zuko edits I’ve watched recently definitely fueled this entire piece. And before anyone says anything — yes, I hate angst that’s just… left as angst. Absolutely not. Everybody deserves happiness, especially Zuko because that man has suffered enough 😭 I also watched edits of The Notebook and ended up loosely basing Kenji off Lon, so hopefully you guys liked his character because I genuinely had so much fun writing him. He deserved to be sweet, okay. Also… is it weird that Azula is kind in this fic? 😭 I feel like it strays a little from her canon personality, but at the same time I love the idea of her being quietly observant and lowkey meddling for entertainment. Fun fact though: I’ve actually never watched Avatar: The Last Airbender. I know. I KNOW. I’m just not really a movie/series person. But I absolutely adore the characters and the lore, especially the dads in this fandom. Aang and Zuko my glorious kings fr. Anyway, sorry for the rambling. Enjoy! Part ONE here! pairing: Zuko x Reader summary: A story about forbidden love, devastating timing, and two people who spend years denying the feelings that were always written in their eyes. 1. Some loves are ruined not by lack of feeling, but by the fear of admitting them too late. 2. After years of yearning and missed chances, Zuko must decide whether he’ll lose you forever or finally fight for the life he truly wants. risks: emotional damage caused by two people being painfully in love and painfully stupid about it. Tag List: @maee67 @partofmejustwantstosleep

Your hands trembled as you stood before your reflection, watching your maids rush around the room in a frenzy of concentration and excitement. Every ribbon had to be perfectly tied. Every layer of silk needed to fall flawlessly against your skin.

It was your wedding day, after all.

And yet, despite the chaos surrounding you, time itself seemed frozen.

You had left the Fire Nation Royal Palace weeks ago for many reasons. Your father had discovered your whereabouts and had immediately demanded your return home, furious that his unmarried daughter had spent time at the palace so close to her betrothal.

What would people think when they learned the Commander’s daughter had been staying within the royal walls mere months before her wedding?

But worse than your father’s anger was the ache you had carried home with you.

Because you had gone to the palace hoping for something impossible. And somehow, Zuko had made things worse.

He confessed his feelings only to push you away immediately after, as though loving you and losing you in the same breath would somehow hurt less.

The morning after that disastrous confession—conversation, argument, heartbreak, whatever it truly had been—you learned that Zuko had left the palace during the night to attend to royal matters with the court.

Azula’s explanation had been painfully vague as she lounged lazily across the cushions beside you, entirely too unbothered for someone delivering such devastating news.

Only later did you realize how carefully she had been studying your reaction.

You had been heartbroken. Angry. Humiliated, perhaps.

Azula had chuckled softly beneath her breath when you abruptly excused yourself from the room, clearly amused by the mess her brother had made of things. Visiting the palace under constant supervision bored her endlessly, so the complications between you and Zuko had become a source of entertainment instead.

Which was why it didn’t surprise her in the slightest when you appeared the next morning already dressed for travel, servants gathered around your packed belongings.

You apologized politely for your sudden departure. Too politely. You showed no visible signs of sadness. No anger. Nothing at all.

And somehow, that unsettled Azula more.

Still, she embraced you before you left, warmer than expected as she wished you well. She never once mentioned your upcoming marriage directly until the very end.

“You know,” she said casually, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you never struck me as the type to give up so easily.”

Her sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the servants preparing your carriage.

“It’s an admirable trait,” she continued. “Resilience.”

Then her eyes met yours once more, something unreadable flickering behind them.

“I’m sure you still have some of it left somewhere.”

And spirits, her words lingered with you.

They lingered even now as you sat alone in your chambers surrounded by flowing silks and arrangements of white flowers that made the room feel suffocatingly beautiful.

Your posture slumped as you wrapped your arms around your abdomen, silently wishing yourself ill enough to avoid tonight’s banquet entirely.

“My lady?”

Your maid’s gentle voice cut through the silence.

You looked up only to find her staring at you with such obvious sympathy that irritation flared instantly in your chest.

Damn everything.

“Everyone is ready.”

And so here you were. Walking toward the grand doors of the great hall while music and conversation spilled through the cracks like smoke.

You straightened your spine and lifted your chin just as the doors opened.

Your future husband sat near the center of the long table, speaking quietly with another man seated beside him.

The entire hall turned toward you at once. You could feel every stare following your movements as you crossed the room.

Tonight would be the last evening you belonged solely to yourself.

Tomorrow, once vows and rings were exchanged, you would become someone’s wife. Another possession neatly transferred from one man to another beneath the traditions of this nation.

The thought made your stomach twist.

You didn’t bother searching for your father as you approached the table. You knew he would be somewhere nearby discussing politics or military affairs with someone equally important.

So when you finally took your seat beside your betrothed, you lifted your gaze toward the crowd, already preparing the practiced smile everyone expected from you.

And then your eyes caught on another pair of eyes. Golden.

Zuko sat farther down the table beside your father, though his attention was nowhere near the conversation being directed at him.

His eyes were fixed entirely on you.

The breath left your lungs.

He looked exhausted. And angry. And heartbroken all at once.

The night dragged endlessly after that.

By the time the banquet finally began to empty, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones.

Your future husband rose first, offering you a hand with easy politeness. You had learned throughout the evening that he was kind.

Genuinely kind.

There had been no arrogance in him. No cruelty. No dismissive superiority despite the expectations placed upon him as a man of status within the Fire Nation.

It eased something inside you slightly.

“It was a pleasure, my lady,” he said warmly.

The man—Kenji, you had learned—bowed before pressing a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

You returned the gesture with a small smile and watched as he and his companions withdrew for the evening, likely heading to their chambers to prepare for tomorrow’s ceremony.

The second he disappeared, your ladies-in-waiting swarmed you.

“My lady, are your legs sore?”

“We’ve already prepared a warm bath.”

“I can summon one of the royal healers to massage your muscles before bed—”

They fussed endlessly over you while guiding you from the hall until one maid suddenly hushed the others, squeezing her way toward you with wide eyes.

“My lady,” she whispered urgently, glaring at the others trying to overhear, “the Fire Lord has requested your presence.”

Your stomach dropped.

“He’s waiting for you at the loggia.”

Instinctively, your eyes drifted toward the palace windows, searching the darkness outside as though you might somehow glimpse him from here.

“I think,” you said carefully after a moment, “I would like that bath after all.”

The maid stared at you in disbelief.

“My lady, it is unwise to keep the Fire Lord waiting.”

The others immediately began whispering amongst themselves as understanding dawned across their faces. But you ignored them and continued walking, though none of them noticed the slight tremble in your hands.

“If he becomes impatient,” you replied quietly, “then perhaps he’ll leave.”

Hours passed before you finally made your way toward the loggia.

The moon sat high above the palace now, silver light spilling across the stone floors.

And there he was.

Zuko sat hunched forward with his elbows resting against his knees, hands pressed against his face so heavily that he hadn’t even noticed your approach until you lowered yourself into the seat across from him.

“Aren’t you cold, my lord?”

Your voice came out softer than intended. You hated that you still couldn’t be cruel to him.

Zuko looked up slowly.

His eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion, dark hair disheveled by restless hands. The sight of him made your chest ache painfully with the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place.

“No,” he answered hoarsely before glancing toward the open night sky. “I’m actually… warm despite the wind.”

You hummed quietly and watched him attempt to straighten his posture. The effort lasted only a few seconds before his shoulders sagged once more.

“I never knew it would be Kenji,” he admitted after a long silence.

“You know him?”

You crossed one leg over the other, silk whispering softly against the stone as you leaned forward.

“Yes,” Zuko said. “We trained together when we were boys. He was kind then.”

Something unreadable crossed his expression.

“I hope he still is.”

A faint smile touched your lips despite yourself.

“He is,” you said softly. “Which is reassuring considering the possibility of being handed off to some arrogant misogynist.”

Zuko dragged a hand through his hair, visibly struggling with whatever thoughts crowded his mind.

“Have you come to congratulate me again?” you asked quietly.

And this time, you didn’t bother hiding the softness in your voice when you looked at him.

Zuko stared at you for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.

“I don’t actually know why I’m here.”

Zuko’s voice was rough with exhaustion.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here actually.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The wind curled through the open arches of the loggia, carrying the scent of the sea and distant lantern smoke. Somewhere far below, the palace guards changed shifts, their armor clinking softly through the quiet night.

You stared at him. Really stared. And spirits, he looked terrible.

Not physically. Zuko would always carry that devastating sort of beauty about him, especially beneath moonlight, but there was something hollow in the way he sat before you. Something frayed.

Like he had been unraveling for weeks.

“You shouldn’t have come then,” you said softly.

“I know.”

“But you did.”

His jaw tightened.

“Yes.”

The honesty in that single word made your chest ache.

Zuko looked away first, eyes drifting toward the dark gardens below. “I thought if I stayed away long enough…” He laughed once under his breath, humorless. “I thought maybe you’d finally forget me.”

You felt anger spark instantly.

“Forget you?” you repeated quietly.

He nodded, still refusing to look at you. “It would’ve been easier.”

“For who?”

This time his eyes snapped toward yours.

“For you.”

The words echoed sharply between you.

You stood abruptly from your seat, frustration finally boiling over after weeks of trying to bury it. The fabric of your dress swept across the stone as you paced away from him.

“You don’t get to decide that for me anymore.”

Zuko flinched.

“You pushed me away for years,” you continued, voice shaking now. “And every single time I came back anyway. Every single time, Zuko.”

Your hands trembled at your sides.

“And then when you finally admit you love me—when you finally say it—you disappear.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“No.” Tears burned your eyes again. “You were trying to protect yourself.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating. Because the worst part was that he knew you were right.

Zuko stood slowly.

“You think I don’t know that?” he asked quietly. “You think I haven’t hated myself for it every day?”

You swallowed hard as he stepped closer.

“I spent my whole life believing that everything I touched would eventually burn,” he admitted. “And you…” His voice nearly broke. “You were the only good thing I had ever wanted badly enough to fear ruining.”

Your breath caught.

The tension between you felt unbearable now. Years of longing and restraint and heartbreak pressed into every inch of space separating you.

“You don’t get to say things like that the night before my wedding,” you whispered.

Pain flickered across his face.

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

Finally—finally—Zuko looked at you the way he had always tried not to.

Openly. Completely.

“Because I can’t do it anymore.”

Your heartbeat stuttered.

“I can’t watch you marry someone else knowing I let you go out of fear.” His voice grew quieter with every word. The confession shattered something inside you completely.

“I have loved you for years. You know this.”

The wind stirred softly around you both.

“You are in every part of my life,” Zuko continued, stepping closer still. “Every room I walk into, every decision I make—I think about you. Spirits, I tried not to. I tried to let you go because I thought you deserved something softer than me.”

His hand twitched at his side like he wanted desperately to reach for you.

“But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

The tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

“And what happens tomorrow?” you asked shakily. “What happens to duty? To my father? To Kenji?”

At the mention of the other man, guilt crossed Zuko’s expression immediately.

“He’s a good man,” he admitted. “Better than I am in many ways.”

You laughed weakly through your tears. “That isn’t exactly difficult.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth for the first time that night.

Spirits. You had missed him.

Missed this. Missed him.

“I don’t know what happens tomorrow,” Zuko confessed. “But if you tell me to walk away right now, I will.”

His golden eyes locked onto yours.

“But if there’s even the smallest part of you that still wants me…” His voice lowered. “Then let me finally choose you the way I should have years ago.”

The ache in your chest became unbearable.

Because despite everything—despite the anger and hurt and years of waiting—you still loved him so much it frightened you.

And maybe Azula had been right. Maybe you had never been the type to give up easily. Your voice trembled when you spoke.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

Zuko inhaled sharply.

“And I hate you for that sometimes,” you whispered through tears. “Because no matter how many times you pushed me away, it was always you.”

Something inside him finally gave in.

His hands reached you carefully this time, like he was terrified you might disappear if he moved too fast. Warm palms settled against your waist, and the second he touched you again after all this time, every ounce of restraint vanished.

You buried your face against his chest with a broken sound.

Zuko held you like a man starved.

One hand cradled the back of your head while the other tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as though years of yearning could somehow be undone by proximity alone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “Spirits, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled against him.

A breathless laugh escaped him then—small and disbelieving and painfully fond.

“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “I know.”

And when he finally kissed you, it felt less like the beginning of something and more like finally coming home.

—

The next morning, you asked Kenji to walk with you through the eastern gardens before the ceremony preparations began.

The poor servants nearly fainted from panic at the sight of you requesting privacy from your future husband hours before the wedding.

But Kenji only smiled kindly and offered you his arm.

You liked him for that.

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked slowly beneath the flowering trees.

“You’re in love with someone else,” he said gently before you could even speak.

You stared at him in shock.

Kenji chuckled softly. “You looked at the Fire Lord as though the rest of the room disappeared.”

Mortification flooded you instantly.

“Was it truly that obvious?”

“To someone who understands?” he asked knowingly. “Yes.”

You blinked. And then, for the first time since meeting him, you noticed it. The softness in his expression when he spoke about home. The absence of disappointment now.

“There’s someone waiting for you too,” you realized quietly.

A faint smile crossed his face.

“A girl from my hometown,” he admitted. “My mother hates her.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Kenji joined you warmly.

“I think,” he continued, “we were both attempting to do our duty for people we care about.”

Guilt twisted inside you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stopped walking then, offering you a reassuring look. “A marriage built on obligation would have made us both miserable eventually.”

Emotion tightened your throat.

“You deserve to love someone freely,” Kenji said sincerely. “And judging from the way the Fire Lord looked ready to burn the palace down watching you last night…” He grinned slightly. “I’d say he feels the same.”

By the time you returned inside, the engagement had been peacefully dissolved.

And the palace erupted into chaos. Your maids were shameless. Absolutely shameless.

“The Fire Lord?” one squealed while the others nearly cried from excitement.

“I told you years ago!” another accused proudly. “Nobody looks at someone the way he looks at our lady unless he’s hopelessly in love!”

The entire palace seemed to buzz with the news before noon. Even your father—stern, exhausted Commander that he was—could only sigh heavily after Zuko formally approached him.

“You put my daughter through years of distress,” he grumbled.

“Yes, sir.”

“And if you break her heart again, I will personally ensure the next Agni Kai ends badly for you.”

Zuko, to his credit, nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Your father stared at him for a long moment before finally looking toward you. And when he saw how happy you were—truly happy—something in his expression softened.

“…Just take care of her,” he muttered.

“With my life.”

The wedding that eventually followed was nothing like the one originally planned.

It was warmer. Smaller. Real. And Azula, seated near the front in deep crimson silks, watched the entire ceremony with barely concealed amusement.

“You know,” she said later as she embraced you lightly, “the two of you wasted an incredible amount of time.”

Zuko groaned somewhere behind you while Azula smirked.

“But,” she added quietly near your ear, “I suppose it was entertaining to watch in the meantime.”

For the first time in years, the ache inside your chest was gone.

And when Zuko’s hand found yours later that evening—fingers intertwining carefully, lovingly—you realized something else too.

Nothing about your love had ever truly been forbidden.

a/n: So dramatic. Just kiss and make up already, bro. I’ll probably make a second part because I hate angst that’s left as just angst, y’know? 😭Anyway, sorry in advance, and enjoy! Part TWO here! pairing: Zuko x Reader summary: A story about forbidden love, devastating timing, and two people who spend years denying the feelings that were always written in their eyes. 1. Some loves are ruined not by lack of feeling, but by the fear of admitting them too late. 2. After years of yearning and missed chances, Zuko must decide whether he’ll lose you forever or finally fight for the life he truly wants. risks: emotional damage caused by two people being painfully in love and painfully stupid about it.

Forbidden love is the strongest kind.

Zuko knows that better than anyone.

Ever since childhood, it felt as though the world itself had been built to stand against him. His father was never simply a parent, but an obstacle—cold, impossible, always waiting for him to fail. And Azula, even when Ozai wasn’t present, was a constant reminder that he would never truly be enough in his father’s eyes.

Thank the spirits for Uncle Iroh, because without him, Zuko thinks the loneliness might have swallowed him whole.

Maybe that’s why pushing you away became second nature.

Loving you felt dangerous from the very beginning.

And now, years later—far too many years later—you stood before him once again.

Face to face.

Your eyes brimmed with tears you refused to let fall, your fists clenched so tightly at your sides that your knuckles had gone pale. Frustration radiated from you in waves, tangled together with grief and impatience and every emotion threatening to spill over.

You were betrothed to another man.

Your father had no sons, and as commander, he knew his time was limited. Someone needed to protect his daughter. Someone needed to secure her future.

So you were promised away.

The moment the announcement had been made, you arranged transport to the palace despite the years that had passed since you’d last stepped foot there.

Zuko had shown no reaction when he first saw you again.

No shock.

No anger.

No relief.

Nothing.

Azula had greeted you with familiar ease, as though no time had passed at all. Though she knew enough about whatever complicated thing existed between you and her brother, she had never once tried to interfere.

Which was precisely why she found it amusing when the two of you just so happened to cross paths alone in the palace gardens.

And now Zuko stood across from you beneath the fading evening light, shoulders tense, palms damp despite every effort to steady himself. His eyes betrayed him completely, fixed on every small movement you made.

“Won’t you say anything?”

Your voice cracked around the words.

Zuko swallowed hard as you struggled to meet his gaze. He tried to speak, but nothing came.

Then you laughed bitterly under your breath, already unraveling.

“Don’t you care even a little?” you whispered. “I thought you would care. But maybe I was wrong.”

It was both a blessing and a curse when you finally looked at him.

A blessing because you were looking at him at all.

A curse because your eyes were filled with heartbreak so deep it nearly split him open where he stood.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly.

The second the word left his mouth, he hated himself for it.

After all these years, after everything between you, the first thing he offered you was congratulations for belonging to another man.

“You have everything you need now.”

He watched your expression crumble.

“You think this is what I needed?” Your voice shook. “Being promised to a man I’ve never even met?” Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. “You know I never wanted this. I don’t need this.”

A sharp breath caught in your throat.

“What I needed was you.”

Something inside him broke.

Zuko stepped toward you instinctively, finally—finally—certain of something after years of fear and restraint.

But you moved back before he could reach you.

“What I needed,” you continued shakily, “was for you to say it. Just once.”

Your voice cracked completely now.

“I waited for you. Spirits, Zuko, I waited so long.” You pressed a trembling hand against your chest like it hurt to breathe. “But I’m getting married now. Why couldn’t you just say that—”

“Say what?”

This time, when he reached for you, his hands found you.

His grip on your arms was desperate in a way that contrasted cruelly against all the restraint he had forced upon himself for years.

“That I love you?” he breathed. “That I thought about you every single day?”

And spirits, Zuko thinks he has never hated life more than he does in this moment.

Because life had always been cruel to him. But watching you—one of the only good things he had ever known—slip through his fingers felt like losing the last light left in the world.

“I wanted you safe,” he admitted softly. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere happy.”

His thumb brushed against your skin like he was memorizing it.

“And that was never going to be with me.”

The moment shattered between you.

Zuko already knew this would be the last time he would ever hold you.

Forbidden then.

Forbidden forever.

So before he could watch you turn away from him completely, before he could see the final goodbye written across your face, Zuko let go first.

a/n: First fic in a while yayyy 😭 Fun fact: I actually used to run another Tumblr account where I wrote for Katsuki, but I forgot the password ages ago. If anyone somehow figures out what account it was, I’ll literally pay you. (I won’t. I’m broke.) Anyways, this entire fic was basically born from all the romcom edits I’ve been rotting over recently, so expect unbearable amounts of softness. pairing: Zuko x Reader summary: After years of loneliness and heartbreak, Zuko finds himself surrounded by the one thing he never thought he’d have: a loving family. In the quiet intimacy of palace life, he learns that home was never a place — it was always you. risks: dangerously high levels of fluff and enough sweetness to give you cavities.

The intimacy of finally having a family after years of hurt and loneliness.

Zuko thinks he would have spent his whole life aching for something he could never quite reach. Peace. Warmth. A home that didn’t feel cold the second he stepped inside it.

And yet now, all he has to do is walk through the palace gardens, turn the corner of a hallway, or step into his chambers to find you there.

His wife.

Round with your second child, laughing softly as you guide your four-year-old son through the room, tiny hands wrapped around yours.

Every single time, his heart still stumbles.

Because six years ago, Zuko could never have imagined this life for himself. Not just being loved by a beautiful, patient, gentle woman, but becoming the father of her children. Having little arms throw themselves around his legs when he returned home. Hearing laughter instead of shouting echo through palace walls.

It feels unreal sometimes.

Sacred.

So when he escorts you back to your chambers later that evening, one hand resting carefully against the small of your back while the other steadies you as you waddle beside him, he can’t stop the quiet chuckle that slips from his lips.

“What is it, Zu?”

There it is again—that unbearable softness in his chest.

You tilt your head up at him, eyes heavy with sleep and curiosity. Beautiful even in your exhaustion.

As you reach the door, Zuko gently pulls you against him before bending easily to lift you into his arms, deciding you’ve walked enough for one night.

“Nothing, my love.”

The answer is obviously untrue, but you’re too warm and content in his hold to question him further. Instead, you simply curl closer against his chest as he carries you inside.

“I’ll massage your feet, baby.”

Zuko adjusts the mountain of pillows behind you before settling at the end of the bed, kneeling without hesitation. His hands find your swollen feet with practiced care, thumbs pressing slow circles into aching skin like he’s done this a hundred times before.

You melt instantly, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you sink back into the cushions, one hand absently rubbing over your belly.

And Zuko just watches you.

Watches the woman who turned the impossible into something real.

Because this life—this quiet, gentle life filled with sleepy smiles, warm beds, and children waiting in the next room—was never something he thought he deserved.

But you gave it to him anyway.

So he treats moments like these carefully. Reverently. Like something fragile enough to break if he doesn’t hold it close enough.

His hands continue their slow work against your skin, tender and devoted, more ritual than routine now.

An offering.

Because in Zuko’s eyes, you are nothing less than divine.