Layla Marie

This is the sixth night in a row that you've snuck out of the palace to gaze at the stars in the soft grass. That place was stuffy. Commanding. Exposing. You hadn't an ounce of a voice and barely any privacy. Barely any time to think or pick up a hobby. Sorry, a hobby you actually enjoyed. Sure, archery and sculpting was fun...but it can get so boring after some time.

You're young! You should be speaking up at the council or roaming the streets of Ba Sing Se in disguise. But nooo, you're learning tea etiquette for the millionth time as if you couldn't plan and be the face of a gala with your eyes closed. As if you couldn't throw the best palace party one has ever attended.

And as if you couldn't pick your own husband.

It's settled. Your mother has insisted upon and arranged a marriage with you and some dashingly handsome rich guy from the heart of the capital. Also known as the most boring man you've ever met. Even more boring than your father.

They won't admit it, but your parents didn't trust you nor your judgement. They believe you wouldn't know enough to choose a man of "great riches and power." Well, maybe you didn't want that!

The couple of times you've managed to sneak out and roam at night, your eye was caught by several very attractive men that definitely weren't rich or powerful--socially. You've seen your fair share of strong, powerful earth benders, but your parents couldn't care less. The only person who felt sympathy for you was your royal advisor who's watched you grow into a fine young woman. He even taught you some of his favorite tricks while fighting wherever your parents weren't around.

You sighed heavily and laid down, staring up at that gorgeous sky. Nothing beats a night outside the palace.

Or maybe it did. You will just never know.

Sokka scratched his forehead as he squinted at the map Aang had of the earth kingdom. He's been walking around here for hours! He's supposed to be treading the outskirts and yet he's 60% sure he's nowhere near them. Toph just had to fall ill with some sickness that required instructions from three stone slabs with ingredients and steps carved into them. What a bunch of b-

"Woah!" Sokka felt the ground move forward from under him and fell on his back with a loud grunt. A groan of pain follows once he rolls over and rubs his back where there will absolutely be a bruise later. "What the hell?"

He gasps once he looks up and sees a figure standing over him with...a sharpened rock? The moonlight casting over 1/4 of their face doesn't help at all.

"Who are you?" They ask. "Why are you here?"

"...Um-"

The figure steps forward and the light reveals more of their face. Oh. Her face. Wait, the princess of the Earth Kingdom?!

"Woah, woah, woah, wait," he sat up with his hands up. "This isn't what it looks like."

"It looks like you're trespassing the palace grounds."

"...okay, you got me there, but, I swear I didn't mean to interrupt your..." he paused and leaned to the side to see what you were doing. "I don't know what you were doing, but-"

"I was napping," you said. "Then I heard your footsteps all loud in my ears."

"Well, excuse me!"

"...You're water tribe," you add, getting a good look at his outfit. He looked like a traveler. You've encountered a number bandits before and he definitely didn't look the part.

"That I am."

"Why are you here?"

"I'd love to explain... without the very scary sharp object aimed at my throat."

You narrowed your eyes before lowering the makeshift weapon and tossing it. Arms crossed.

"I'm listening."

He stood up and dusted off his clothes with an exhale. "Thank you," he said. "I'm just here looking for these stone slabs around here. It's for my friend and I'm trying to follow this map but I accidentally wandered here which, now that I think about it is wildly close to the palace." He stopped to look around. "No guards?"

"It's far enough that it's not considered royal property. It's why I come here."

"Not a fan of good food and being waited on hand and foot, huh?" He jokes. You don't laugh. Not even twitch. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Give me the map," you reached out and grabbed it from him. This time he got to see your outfit. He never would've recognized you if he didn't see your face--which is funny because he only knew it was the princess given that you look exactly like the queen.

"You were holding it wrong," you continued, then showed it to him while pointing to the mountains drawn on it. "You made it here the right way but because you turned it left, you ended up going east instead of south. Only place I know with stone slabs of importance is this tiny island you can walk to. We're here, you can reach that in a few days on foot."

"Huh," he took the map and mentally scolded himself for letting his exhaustion completely mess up his own directions. "Thanks, err...your highness."

You gave him your name and waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I hope you find what you're looking for."

He offers a small smile and nods. "Thank you. You should probably head home. I heard there's sleepy wanderers at night."

You laughed. Sokka made you laugh! You can't remember the last time you genuinely laughed at something, especially at what someone said. No offense to the town jester...

"You are tired," you said. "You shouldn't travel on with a clouded mind. Sleep around here, I can make you a tent."

He...wasn't expecting that. Notably from someone who comes from royalty.

"Won't I get caught?"

"Not if you're closer to the water. I would assume you're very familiar with such a thing?"

"Right, duh," he scoffed. "Of course."

The walk to the shoreline was nice. He watched you build a tent with ease just big enough for him by the water and right in front of the moon. This scenery was to die for.

"All good?"

"It's great. Thanks again, you didn't have to do this for someone you just met."

"I don't mind," you smile softly. "Whatever makes a difference. Have a good trip...?"

"Sokka."

"Sokka," you add and walk away. He peeked around the side of the tent to see you heading back to the huge palace in the distance. Literally all the way there. He's glad Katara didn't talk him out of bringing binoculars.

He took them out and could just barely see you scaling the wall and crawling through a window on one of the higher floors. Damn, this is surely nothing new to you.

Sokka laid in the makeshift rock tent and laid on his side once he took his shirt off. Looking out at the horizon as he took it all in. He really just accidentally bumped into a princess. The princess. She was actually a nice person and he got to keep his head!

He only wondered where he'd go from here. Of course, setting off to get these magical rocks that would be the only cure to saving Toph. But there was also the element of a possible side quest that would result in taking a tad bit longer to get back to the city. Hmm...

Decisions, decisions.

-

"Your highness?"

You blinked and looked around your massive bedroom then to your favorite guard standing at the foot of your bed. You've been sitting there for at least five minutes just staring off into space and completely forgot what he must've said earlier.

"Would you like assistance with getting ready?"

"Getting ready?" You asked. There wasn't any morning events you could recall. "For what?"

"To meet with the young man from house Zheng," he said. "The Queen insisted you be ready by the ninth hour in the dress she chose before you retreated to your quarters last night."

Shit. That's today?

With a sigh, you rub your eyes and start to get out of bed. "Right. Assistance won't be necessary. Thank you."

He bowed with a small smile. "I will be outside."

As soon as he left, you eyed the emerald green and gold gown your mom picked out hung up in your walk-in closet. It was impossible to miss. Your parents may annoy the hell out of you almost everyday, but they knew how to choose outfits. You couldn't knock that one.

While you walked through the halls a few inches behind your guard, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking of that water tribe guy. Sokka, right? He's nice. One of the first men to not react seeing a princess actually use earth bending. Your father suggested not using it as much as possible because it's "too manly" and "takes away your femininity." A foolish idea that's been passed down generations.

What does he know anyway? This Sokka guy was the breath of fresh air you've been craving for years.

...is this wrong? To be thinking of another man? Another handsome man you just met when you're about to meet with the man you're supposed to marry in two and a half months? It's all innocent. He was just passing by and accidentally got too close to the palace. That's it. Nothing else.

You nearly bump into your guard when he abruptly stopped and moved out of your way.

"There she is!" Your mother called out and took your hand to walk you over where your father and the other family stood. "No makeup?" She whispered. You had to contain yourself from rolling your eyes.

"You didn't tell me to wear-"

"We are just so delighted to have you back to the palace," she said with a big smile. Still holding your hand like you'd take off running. "Forgive her, she woke up a bit late and rushed to come see you all, as you can see," she added while gesturing to the gorgeous gown you wore.

"I think she's beautiful regardless," the guy said. What was his name again? Han? Wei? No, no, it started with a S-

"Aw, how cute," your mother cut in before you could even thank him. "That is very nice of you, Sokka."

The faint smile you were holding while on autopilot dropped. You turned to her with furrowed brows.

"What did you say?"

She locked eyes with you. "What's that honey?"

"What name did you just say?"

She laughs nervously and lets go of your hand to squeeze your shoulder. "Did you not get enough sleep last night?" She tried to joke. "I was telling San'er what a nice man he is. Wouldn't you agree?"

Phew! Okay.

"Yes, err... thank you. I spent most of my night practicing calligraphy and lost track of time!"

Absolute lies.

"Right, of course. The princess just can't get enough of her father's teachings," she chimed in. "Why don't you two spent some time alone by the gardens while we catch up, hm?"

The two of you walked through the gardens and were followed at an appropriate distance by guards just in case. Your and his parents were still in the background. They would glance at you guys from time to time and your mother had this bright smile on her face. Ugh.

Later in the evening, you were tired. Almost sure you'd have smile lines before you hit 30 from all the fake smiling you had to do in front of two sets of parents who couldn't care less what their child wanted. You shed all your layers and removed intricate hair pieces, feeling 4 pounds lighter. You brushed and braided your hair back like your mother always reminded you constantly growing up.

Once you were in a more comfortable gown you opened the window and just... felt the air hit your face. The crisp, cool air that felt like freedom. Freedom you never really had.

Your nightly fantasies of escaping this place were interrupted by the sound of a bush moving. It could've been the wind. But then you opened your eyes and looked around. Your line of sight finally landing on the edge of the big wall you typically scaled to get back to your room unnoticed. When you suddenly spot a hand gripping the top, your eyes widen.

A soft grunt makes your brow raise as whoever it was managed to get up this high without killing themselves. Then a face appears. You gasped.

Sokka looked up like a dog that knocked over an expensive vase.

"Sokka?" You whispered loudly. A little less shock and a little more concern. How the hell did he get up here? He swung his leg over with a breathless wince and sweat glistening on his forehead. You made this look a thousand times easier than it is. He just sat up and waved as he caught his breath.

"I wanted to surprise you," he said. Well, barely. You covered your mouth to mask the full laugh almost came out. Never in a million years have you ever pictured something like this happening. Not even from the man you were set to marry.

"Surprise me?" You asked with pure amused disbelief. "You realize you could've died on the way up, right?"

He managed to safely crawl and make it all the way over to your windowsill, leaning on it like he didn't almost piss his pants every time he almost slipped and plummeted to the ground. If the impact didn't get him it surely would've been your guards.

"I am the master of all things rash decisions, survival, strategy, and making pretty girls smile," he said with a practiced smolder to get you giggling again. And it worked. "If I'm being honest I did not think I would get this far. How was your day? Let's start there."

Huh. You didn't realize how long it's been since someone asked about your day and actually meant it.

"Not very eventful if that's what you're wondering," you replied with a soft sigh. Intentionally omitting the whole day because recalling it would only make you more tired. And possibly because you were afraid it would scare him away...most guys would rather not hear a rich woman complain about seemingly the most perfect man in the world being matched up with her. So, you decided to keep it simple.

Sokka watched the way your shoulders slouched, something you'd be getting an earful about if your mother ever saw this. Something about your tone and demeanor was setting off alarms in his head that what you told him wasn't the full story. Though he also decided not to pry.

Luckily a few days ago he was able to send a scroll of instructed text to the gaang because he would be damned if he had to make two long trips to Republic City and back to Ba Sing Se to see you again. It's not like he could freely roam so close to royal grounds without your assistance anyway.

The past couple of weeks have been this. Whether you met with San'er or attended another boring party the Queen hosted with other political talking heads that had absolutely nothing important to say. Whenever it wasn't about your impending marriage, you went into great detail without even realizing.

And then there was the night before the ceremony. You stared at yourself in the mirror with a heavy heart. Not having seen Sokka since you finally informed him, trying to keep whatever feelings you both might've had contained only made you more sad. But it was for the best. You didn't want to keep lying and allow the feelings to fester.

Finished with braiding your hair, you got up to turn out the lights when you heard a familiar rhythmic tap against your window. Your brows furrowed and head tilted. With a sharp turn, your eyes land on the handsome charismatic man that is Sokka leaning against the frame like he was coolest man in the land (he is).

You let him in your room as discreetly as last time. "You haven't...left yet," you said. It was like a question and a statement at the same time. The look in his eyes was saying that he's never looked so sure in his life.

"No, I have not," he said. "I couldn't. Not yet."

"Sokka," you looked at him like he was crazy. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping he'd show up at least one more time. "I get married tomorrow."

"I know. That's why I'm here," he said as he took your hands in his. Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth of his palms. "I was thinking since we won't be able to see each other again after...that event, why not make the most of it?"

Your look didn't drop, he didn't flinch. Just held your hands tighter. His eyes were begging you to trust him now.

In the blink of an eye, you were right back where you started. Where you met. Your feet on the plush grass in the area you confronted him. The shoreline not too far from here. Clad in sleepwear that could probably buy the North Pole.

Then you were playing in the water--in your underwear. What started as splashing each other turned into play fighting, which then turned into holding each other while a little winded for moments too long. He looked at you. You looked at him. The moon seemed to be at the perfect position because, Gods, this angle was...surreal.

Sokka was well aware it'd be wrong to get any more involved with a soon-to-be bride, especially one who's the damn princess of the Earth Kingdom. But who would he be if he didn't lock lips with a gorgeous woman with a personality so bright he physically could not allow himself to leave yet?

He closed the distance and pressed his lips onto yours. His hands gentle on the sides of your face. So gentle he could feel you melting against him. One of you should've pulled back but didn't. To your own surprise, you deepened the kiss. Really putting the two times you've ever kissed someone to good use.

This was wrong. So wrong. But the way he held you close and angled your head so he could get more of you made you dizzy. If this was truly the last day you'd ever see the man you're in love with, it's like he said. Make the most of it.

The kiss only grew more intense as the seconds rolled by. Hungrier. He backed away for a second to catch his breath, fingers hooked around the hem of your panties.

"May I, your highness?" He asked. His breath warm against your lips. You nodded with a cheeky smile at him using your title and locked lips again, helping him get them off in a hurry. You needed him now.

He swiftly picked you up to straddle him after tossing them near where his makeshift tent used to be on the shore. Reaching between your bodies halfway in the water to properly align himself and waste no more time. You broke from his mouth to gasp and grip his shoulders. He was perfect. Filling you up like a warm meal after a long day.

Your head dipped into his shoulder to suppress your moans. He grit his teeth to do the same. His hold around your torso strong and his thrusts calculated. Going too fast and chasing a high was the last thing he ever wanted to do. With anything, really, but especially this.

The rest of the world quieted into nothingness. It was just you two in the world. No royal duties. No parents breathing down your neck. No fake smiles or constantly pushing a hairpin back into place. Just you.

The water rippled and made small waves as his hips increased in pace. You yelp. He found the spot you didn't even know was there. Your grip on his shoulders tightens. A tear threatens to break. Sokka can't even formulate words. Your brain is slowly turning into mush. Breathing becoming irregular. Legs trembling, getting weaker.

"S...okka," is all you can get out.

"I know," he says. Whispering your name just to feel you shiver. "Me too. Look at me."

You push yourself up and rest your forehead against his. Struggling to keep your eyes open but you held on. Your lips hovering but not quite touching. You were ready. He was ready.

"Together," he murmured. You smiled weakly and nodded. A few more thrusts and your eyes shut so tight you see stars. Crying out in pleasure and body arching into his. His own groans melting into moans that matched yours as he pulled out. You could feel his heart pounding. Arms trembling from holding you so tight and fighting the wetness of the water to not slip.

After a few moments it's just the sound of the ocean and heavy breathing. You're still in his arms. Spent and blissful. You felt physically weak but he refused to let go.

"Run away with me," he finally said. He didn't move. Didn't see the way your eyes peeled open.

"Sokka..."

"I can't let you marry him," he continued. Any ounce of playfulness has left his body. He was dead serious. So serious he could cry. "I can't leave here without you. If this choice follows us I promise I will take the blame, just...please," he pleaded your name. Hand resting on the back of your head as he closed his eyes.

"Sokka," you repeated, looking into his eyes again with heavy lids. "I'll do it."

He nearly short circuited. "...did I hear that right?"

"I'm not passing up the opportunity to see the world. Wherever you go... I'll follow."

A wide smile slowly rose on his lips before he kissed and spun you around, making the water splash a little. His chest filling with warmth when he hears your giggling, pulling back with a dreamy sigh.

"I cannot wait to be an unofficial prince," he said softly against your lips.

"...I don't think that's how it work-"

"I said, get up," the man barks, lifting his foot off your back. You find yourself lying on your side in a cold, metal cell, and you remember.

You're an adult now. You're not a kid anymore—if you ever were—and you work for a bunch of–

"Move!" 

You're harshly grabbed from the floor and hauled to your feet. You swing your elbows out, landing one on the jaw, before shoving him away. 

Your captor rubs his jaw, glaring daggers at you. Then, he pulls out the ring of keys, and your hands flex within your bindings. 

"Should just keep you locked up," he threatens darkly. "Throw you overboard, top it off."

When you don't say anything, he laughs. 

"You'd probably enjoy it."

Temper rising, you inhale deeply. He needs you, you remind yourself. 

Wordlessly, you hold your restrained hands out. Your cuffs enclose your hands in separate metal containers. To prevent you from using firebending to melt the metal, your hands are wrapped in thick layers of cotton. 

After freeing you, the man watches carefully as you immediately reach for the metal band across your forehead. With your third-eye tattoo exposed, he takes a tentative step back. 

"Don't even think of trying anything," the man warns you, still maintaining his gruff demeanor. "We're in the middle of the ocean."

You scoff under your breath, and the man grabs you by the arm, dragging you up to the deck. 

"Get up there!" He orders, shoving you up the stairs so hard you nearly trip on the step.

The crew onboard are all accomplices to your enslavement, ensuring you remain docile throughout your 'trip' by routinely performing acts of cruelty. At this point, you're used to it, allowing the anger to roll off you in slow waves. 

Above deck, your captors are frantic. The ones who can bend line the edge of the ship with boulders and pots of oil. Four teams of two work together to launch volleys of flaming boulders across the body of water.

"Get here! What took so damn long?" This man is the ringleader. You don't know his name, but you knew he gave the orders. You've been referring to him as Blind-Eye, on account of his horrendously purple eyepatch.

He's far from the nicest, but compared to his crew—while he remembers to give you food, unlike others, it is always rotten and sparce. 

Blind-Eye grabs your shoulder and moves you in front of him, his finger points out at a Fire Nation trading vessel in the distance—one you've been seeing a lot over the past few months.

When he doesn't remove his hand, you shrug him off, unwrapping the cloth around your arms. 

Just off to the side, a boulder lands from the trading ship, spraying the deck, where you're standing, with ocean water. You sigh defeatedly, looking down at your soaked clothes.

This was the only set they gave you.

In no time, steam rises off of you. Heaps of it roll off your clothes until the uncomfortable moisture fades.

The scene around you goes quiet as you focus. Taking a quick inhale through your nose, you send a concentrated beam of energy from your Third Eye directly at the trading ship. 

The waves jump to intercept, freezing over just as your attack explodes. The flying frozen chunks land short of the trading ship. 

A roar echoes from above, and you gasp in surprise, wondering if you're still dreaming—or if there's actually a giant beast flying overhead. The animal evades boulders from your ship, and on a few occasions, the flaming rocks are extinguished and destroyed. 

"What are you waiting for?" Blind-Eye barks. "Shoot it down!"

Your eyes lock back on to the animal, but just as you're about to shoot a beam, the ocean throws your ship off-balance. 

You manage to keep your balance as the ship rocks to one side, but you underestimate the force as it levels back out. You and a majority of your captors lose your footing. 

With a rumbling groan, the beast lands onboard with a heavy thud. It's riders jump off, a handful of them, and you watch as they quickly start fighting off the crew. 

"Do something!" Blind-Eye orders, grabbing you by the nape of your neck with painful pressure. 

"What's in it for me," you rasp out, trying to reach back and peel his iron grip off you. You let out a strangled cry when he yanks you violently. 

"That filthy town of yours. We'll pay what's left of your family a visit and burn everything and everyone to the ground."

For all you know, he could be telling the truth—all your previous owners seemed to know about your home and family too. They can always go back for more.

In the corner of your eye, you see a flash of orange. A man dressed in clothes you've never seen before, wearing tattoos that seem vaguely familiar, bounces back and forth across the deck. He's fighting off your captors with ease, blowing them overboard with flicks of his wrist. The rest of his people are following in his pursuit, and the numbers start to even out. 

Think I'd rather sink with the ship, you tell yourself quietly. Your hands clench into fists. 

You shoot a jet of fire from the bottom of your foot, and the ground around you quickly becomes engulfed. The flames catch onto Blind-Eye's shoes and pants, making him jump away and release you. Creating some distance, you spray fire from your palms, which he bats away with a swing of his arm.

"Eat this," you bite out, and you watch Blind Eye's good eye widen. As you take in your breath, you hear someone shout behind you. 

"Wait, st–!"

The explosion hits, and the impact rattles the whole ship. You're blown back, tumbling across the metal deck with ringing ears. As you pick yourself up, you try to focus your vision, but your body struggles to find control.

The monk in orange is laid out on the deck too—he must have been close to the blast—as members of his group surround him. 

All you can hear is your own breath. You feel like you're in a dream again. 

You blearily catch sight of the remaining crew of attackers. They're fleeing from the ship in emergency canoes.

"No one can leave," you say hurriedly, attempting to go after them with weak legs.

"Stop her!" You hear the waterbender order after you, but you're already taking in your breath. Your beam flies past the last few onboard, hitting the railing before exploding. The ship groans deeply after your attack, swaying roughly from the damage. 

The state of the ship doesn't affect you as you attempt to go after your captors again, but you're grabbed from behind. 

Struck with panic, a familiar disgust overwhelms you. 

"Let me go–Let me go!" You scream, waving your arms around from under your restraints. 

"We're trying to help you, but you need to calm down," the man in red yells close to your ear. 

"I can't–," you gasp, blinking furiously. 

Inhaling deeply, you turn your Third Eye to the ground.

- 

Zuko remembers the bounty he put on the Avatar over a decade ago. The destructive power, associated with the third-eye tattoo, burned into his memory, along with the insurmountable regret for hiring the bounty hunter in the first place.

Combustion-bending, Zuko learned from the Imperial archives, is a skill firebenders can develop through brutal, near-torturous methods. It was originally pursued with the intention of creating human weapons. 

When he caught sight of you getting dragged across the deck, with your third-eye tattoo in plain sight, his readings came to mind.

Aang manages to contain the impact of your explosion, channeling the Avatar state to surpress the blast, while pushing you and Zuko back simultaneously. His actions lead to destroying the boat you're on, and the team is left on its sinking remains. 

As Appa comes to save them, you stay behind while everyone climbs to his saddle. You're staring at Aang with apprehension. 

"What are you doing? You have to climb on," Zuko tells you, frowning at the obvious. 

You have to think about it for a moment, but Sokka is ready to leave. 

"Are we forgetting that she was trying to blow up that other ship, and then us?"

"It's complicated," Zuko tells them. "I can explain when we get back, but she needs to get on Appa first."

Aang leaps off from his seat on Appa's head, down to you. 

"You have to come with us," he hears Aang tell you. 

"Is it safe?" You ask. 

Aang glances back at the rest of the team. "Oh, yeah. Appa is a master. You can trust me." He puts his out to you, and you awkwardly take it. 

Zuko notices the way you balk as Aang wraps an arm around you. He hoists onto Appa's back in one swift movement. 

Appa takes off by the time the boat is nearly submerged—her crew and captain nowhere to be seen. 

You're looking noticeably pale under the warm sunlight. Zuko might have thought you were sick from the flight, if not for your expression. 

"Where are we going?" You croak. Everyone glances between each other, before their eyes rest on Zuko–the diplomat after Aang. 

"Somewhere safe," Zuko says vaguely. "Just relax until we get there."

The setup had worked perfectly. Zuko had managed to draw the pirates out and find you—the source of destruction behind his peoples' sunken ships. 

"Where are you taking me?" You ask again, turning your head to face him and revealing the unique details of your third-eye tattoo. 

"The Fire Nation's palace," he answers, glancing around the saddle to see if anyone else is paying attention. Katara is talking with Aang in the front, Toph is lounging—taking up a large section for herself—, and Sokka is checking out his boomerang. 

Zuko hears you sigh softly. 

"I'm being taken to the Fire Lord?"

"In a manner of speaking," he answers, scratching his cheek. 

You're quiet for a moment, and Zuko looks at you. 

"If I tried to run, you would come after me?"

"Yes," Zuko answers, resolutely. "You're accomplice to destroying Fire Nation vessels."

You drop your head, keeping your expression hidden from Zuko. 

He hears your voice quietly whisper hopelessly, "I don't want to die."

"I promise you–you will be safe at the palace."

You meet his gaze, looking unconvinced. "How can you be sure?" You eye him, up and down, and Zuko realizes he's not wearing anything to indicate his position. "Are you the prince, or something?"

He can't help but smile at that. Maybe his clothes were enough to know. 

"Do I not look like it?" 

You smile sadly, amused but not taking his hook. You turn your head to look at the view below Appa, and Zuko notices the way you twist your head, back and forth. 

"I can't believe it—I'm going to die."

a/n: i'm trying out a format

Most fathers would be pleased by the information— not yours, he’s a little more… strict. He already doesn’t like him from a joke made over a decade ago, suggesting you’d make a fine concubine, which wasn’t taken lightly. 

Your father threatened to usurp the throne, sending a chill running down a then 21 year old Zuko’s spine.

There was no way in hell he’d hand you off to the imperial palace to become a concubine. You’re the only child of his that inherited firebending. If your father had it his way, you’d be a warrior, for fucks sake. 

Lord Zuko may have a dry sense of humor at times, but you have your doubts about how much of a joke that statement was, especially with how much he likes to bug you throughout the day.

Perhaps another conflict should erupt— the man has too much time on his hands. Maybe then you’d fulfill your fathers wish of finally working in the military— put your talents to use, as he’d say. 

But would Lord Zuko allow the gentle hands running through his hair to commit such violence? Or would that be when he’d draw a hard line with the aggressive strategist? 

As progressive as he is, you sometimes wonder just how much it extends to you. Even as children, he’d go easy on you during trainings. He’s only grown softer with you as the years passed. Despite not being a concubine yourself, you wouldn’t be surprised if he saw you as one of the flowers in his garden— one he’s not allowed to touch. 

You slide the hair stick through his headpiece, securing the top knot he had you redo. It looks the same, but you hold off on making a comment. “Is that better?” 

“Much better.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror, lips curving into a sly smile. “Now— what are we doing today?”

We. You hate how much he likes to emphasize that at times. 

“Well,” you sigh. “Aside from the usual council meeting, nothing much. Perhaps you can visit one of your concubines today… for once.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Are you saying I don’t fuck my concubines enough?” 

“Precisely,” you say almost mockingly. 

It’s all they ever complain about, and honestly, you’re sure you would, too, if you were one of them. Having to wake up and sit around all day, waiting for a man who never comes. And on the rare occasion that he does, he doesn’t stay long. He’ll show up, fuck the shit out of you for a couple rounds, then leave right after. Allegedly. 

“Don’t you want an heir?” you ask. 

“Depends,” he hums. 

With the way he’s looking at you, you can already tell what it depends on, and it has nothing to do with his current concubines. Lucky for you, he never gets the chance to actually say it because he gets interrupted right after, putting a conversation you’d rather not have to a screeching halt.

“The council is waiting for you, my Lord.”

—

The silk district was notoriously known for two things: brothels and bandits. It was the wild, wild west compared to the other districts in the capital due to high crime and the growing wealth gap. The governments always kept a watchful eye on it, which was never enough in your opinion. 

Are you surprised to hear that an entire brothel, including the madame, was discovered to be slain and robbed in the early hours of this morning? Absolutely not. 

“Send more military officers to patrol the area,” the chamberlain says without hesitation. “We’ve been too lenient with them. If they want bloodshed, we’ll give them bloodshed.”

Yikes, he wants to rule the area with an iron fist when they’re already clearly struggling. You can’t help but think of how much of a dictator this guy would be if he were in Zuko’s place. 

You make eye contact with the lord, who’s sitting at the end of the table right next to you. In that brief moment, he notices the concern in your eyes and gives you a subtle nod. 

“Perhaps we can send more public aid?” you suggest. “They’ve been testing out a new rehabilitation program in Republic City as well. I’m sure the Silk District could benefit from—“

“Nonsense,” the chamberlain cuts you off, wondering why you’re even here right now— he thought you only assisted in matters within the court, not outside of it. “I-“

“Careful,” Zuko interrupts the man rather playfully as he continues to read through the scroll. “That’s the military strategist’s daughter you’re speaking to.” 

The comment makes you nearly roll your eyes, knowing the only reason why he said it was because you’re having to constantly remind him yourself when he gets too close. 

The chamberlain, however, straightens up immediately. You have no idea why it took him this long to realize it. He’s been here for nearly over a year, but at least he knows now. The chamberlain can be quite rude at times, you wouldn’t want him to slip up with your father in the room. Not only would that earn him an earful of insults that are as creative as they are hurtful, but it’d also be embarrassing on your part. 

That old man embarrasses you enough when he’s around. Following you around like a lost puppy after meetings, asking if you’ve eaten and if your superiors are treating you right, while side eyeing the fire lord himself. You’d agree so yourself that he has too much power in the court. He enjoys holding it over everyone’s head even more. It’s sickening, really.

You look at the chamberlain, who is now pouting, and offer an apologetic smile. “May I continue?” 

“Yes, of course,” the old man nods, struggling to hide his shame.

Always one for games, Zuko finds himself suppressing a laugh, which in turn makes the chamberlain’s slouch worsen. He’s grown to find more and more amusement in his daily tasks, a trait his father would definitely disapprove of— good thing he’s not here anymore. 

The rest of the meeting went by as smooth as it could be, with the fire lord, of course, praising the chancellor in the end for being so well behaved, pretending to wonder what could’ve changed his usual demeanor. The usual teasings, all while you once again found yourself thinking of how light he’s become. Even after receiving such upsetting news, he stayed calm while finding a solution. 

A humane one.

No longer the grumpy, angsty boy you grew up with. He’s actually quite charming. But you keep that to yourself.

The palace grounds are empty, as they should be during the afternoon. Everyone’s off either eating, napping, or tending to duties such as cooking or cleaning. It’s quiet, surprisingly peaceful. Your footsteps echo throughout the breezeway as Zuko defies the basic etiquette of walking ahead of you as a ruler should. Instead, the bastard walks a little slower than you. If given the opportunity, he’d turn it into a mini competition of who could walk the slowest, up until you both come to a full stop, with him looking at you all smug. 

“Your chambers are this way,” you remind the said bastard as if he’d already forgotten. 

He doesn’t bother to look back as he responds, walking down a gravel path leading directly to the flower garden. “How about we take a detour today, hm?”

You watch him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d stop. He doesn’t, and you shouldn’t be surprised by it. You’re able to catch up with him in just seconds given his slow pace, this time not bothering to walk behind him as he’s clearly in the mood to be extra stubborn today.

You’re all alone and away from the hearing distance of anyone else, yet you still choose to speak quietly as you start to gently tease the man. “What a surprise to see the king taking some time to enjoy his garden.” 

He lets out a soft laugh that fades into a hum. “Only around a select few.”

“Oh, wow,” you pretend to be impressed. “How charitable.” 

“It’s an honor that you think so,” he says, placing a hand over his chest to add to the theatrics, trying not to laugh once again. “Tell me, when was the last time you walked through here?”

You hum as you walk further into the sprawling garden filled with wooden arches covered with green vines and flowers in full bloom. “Can’t say I actually remember when.”

“That’s a shame. I had the gardener plant new rose bushes,” he murmurs. “Wanted to ask what you thought of them.” 

“I think they’re lovely,” you admit, softly pinching a petal, rubbing your thumb over the velvety skin.

He smiles. “I figured.” 

They were your favorite after all. 

Why is he like this? The garden’s already filled with enough flowers. A new section wasn’t needed. 

Again, he’s just bored.

In an attempt to keep the conversation from getting any more personal, you change the subject. “Are you looking forward to your trip to Republic City?” 

At the end of the meeting, it was decided that he’d visit with the purpose of getting more information about the new rehabilitation program the city was rolling out. While the chancellor wanted to take a more aggressive approach, he decided to take a more peaceful route. It’s admirable how hands on he’s chosen to be since taking his father's place. 

“Mhm. It’ll be nice catching up with some old friends while I’m there—“ he cuts himself off and looks at you with slight suspicion, “you’re going, right?”

You never said you would, nor did you want to, honestly. It’d be nice to take a break. “I’m sure you and some of your subordinates can handle it.” 

“Weren’t you the one who came up with the idea, though?” his tone slightly clips as he reminds you. 

“I was,” you respond tentatively, taking back your thoughts from earlier as you look him in the eyes. 

This man looks like he’s about to throw a fit. 

Zuko opens his mouth again, already knowing he shouldn’t be this pushy towards you, of all people, but he is far from perfect. 

So with a forced smile and all the resolve in the world, he murmurs, “you’re going.” 

You smile back despite feeling an annoyed heat creep up your neck, heart starting to pick up. “Alright.” 

—

Imagine being the fire lord, a literal ruler, and getting the cold shoulder from your own advisor. Every answer is so curt and clinical, and it’s going to drive him up the wall. 

Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. Apologies, my lord.

Give him a fucking break.

As if you weren’t punishing him enough, you went ahead and had two of his concubines “accompany” him on the trip. It’s not like he can say no to that, either, since it’s considered to be one of his duties. Not to mention they both come from high-ranking families that would not be very pleased to hear of their neglect. 

So now he has to deal with two spoiled, pent-up brats hanging on him during the entirety of this flight, all while trying not to glare at the biggest brat of them all— you, as you sit directly across from him, reading probably what’s some pathetic romance novel.

This is fucking ridiculous. You haven’t looked at him once since you first sat down.

You’re no better than him. There was a strike of lightning in the direction you walked off in, and given how it was a perfectly sunny day, he’s pointing his finger at you for the damages done in the east wing, despite keeping his mouth shut on the matter. Complain about being dragged to Republic City all you want, but you still have it better than most. If you really did have it that bad, you would’ve been punished for such an offense. 

Like, seriously? Blowing shit up, like a fucking child— a terrifying one, to be frank, you are absolutely your father’s daughter— just because you had to do your job? Grow up. His grandfather’s statue was shattered in the midst of it all, thanks to you. You’re lucky he never liked the bastard.

In protest, you’re dressed like a noble's daughter rather than a member of the court. Wearing the finest silk and adorned in gold imported from the Earth nation, quietly refusing to represent your actual nation as you claim to be representing your clan— proof that you have enough power on your own to be acting like he’s actively denying you of basic human rights.

As if he even cared about your attire. Be his guest! You look fucking hot. Someone might even mistake you for one of his concubines, and he might just not correct them, since you think you’re more petty than he is.

Zuko gets pulled out of his thoughts when Concubine Aika speaks, still leaning against him and rubbing on his chest. She asked what book you were reading, which is when you finally looked up from it. 

“It’s sort of an adventure novel.” You look at the cover, speaking to her with a certain warmth you’ve been depriving him of. “It’s about a girl escaping an abusive orphanage once she turns 18 and follows her journey for the next 10 years.”

So now you’re fantasizing about leaving him? Good luck with that. 

“You look troubled, my lord,” the woman to his right, Concubine Saiyo, says. She’s leaning against him as well, now tracing her fingers along his jaw. “Are you alright?” 

“M’fine,” he murmurs, trying to fix his face as he takes a sip of sake. “It’s been a long flight.”

“There’s a private cabin you can retreat to, if you’d like,” you suggest, going back to your little book, missing the way you just made the lord’s eye twitch. 

“I know,” he says. 

It’s his airship. 

Without warning, he gets up from his seat. Was it a little rude? Perhaps. But surely the two women beside him could understand what feeling hounded could do to someone. They don’t, they do their jobs and get up as well, which he understands. However, Zuko’s not in the fucking mood right now and waves a dismissive hand. 

“No need,” he curtly says, making his way to the back of the airship. “I just want to close my eyes for a bit.” 

. . . . . .

The trip starts off strong with a banquet being held in honor of the fire lord's arrival. 

Contrary to Zuko’s wishes, nobody’s stupid enough to mistake you for one of his concubines. At least not within the circle of people you’re mingling with tonight, who all recognize your family's crest engraved on your hairpin. 

They were an ambitious bunch that spread all over once Zuko came into power— reaching amongst the highest positions within the military, medicine, and even education. 

Funny enough, your position in the court was nothing special in comparison to some of your relatives’ achievements. Some are even bothered by the fact. Being the first of all your cousins to master the art of firebending, being your grandfather's favorite solely for bending lightning with the same grace as he did in his prime, all while excelling in your studies. 

All of that potential, just wasted on being the lord’s “pet”. 

You don’t have much of an opinion on the disappointment some of them have expressed in the past, though it would’ve been nice if their words had stayed behind closed doors. You didn’t want to hear any of it. If you truly wanted to make use of that said potential, you would’ve worked directly under your father as his subordinate. 

Maybe it was the result of growing up feeling like you were enough. You have nothing to prove, and quite frankly, you’re content with having a role that really only requires you to share your opinions with a ruler that shares the same ideals as you… for the most part. 

If only he’d also agree that you two spend way too much time together. 

Luckily, you’re not required to be by his side tonight since you’re attending the banquet as a representative of your clan— something Zuko had no clue about until the moment you stepped onto the airship, which had him looking like he was about to blow a fucking gasket. He absolutely sucks at masking his frustrations. You’re surprised his concubines still had the courage to cuddle up with him. He looked like he was 2.5 seconds away from throwing you off the ship mid-flight. 

Zuko would never do that, by the way, but you’re sure he was daydreaming about it. 

But even then, with all the distance between you tonight, you can still feel his eyes on you. Just watching and waiting for you to do something he didn’t like. Very masochistic considering how he wouldn’t confront you if you did end up doing something wrong in his eyes. 

You spend the entire night avoiding eye contact, which isn’t too hard given how all you’ve done is catch up with old peers from school and relatives who’ve decided to move here to start new lives. 

The relatives you got along with, that is. 

You were enjoying yourself. Truly. Until Sokka called you over to their table. 

Funny how Zuko wasn’t looking at you then and was instead stuffing his face with spicy dumplings, then downing it with whatever liquor was in his cup. 

You walk over with two thoughts running through your head— please don’t let this man be as drunk as Sokka and Aang, and don’t let this be a conversation about how work was been. Sokka tends to ask those things at the wrong time, despite his heart being in the right place. 

This time around, it’s not Sokka.

“How’s our flaming hot lord treating you?” Aang asks, throwing an arm around a very drunk Zuko, who’s laughing his ass off over the avatar’s words for once. 

Your lips may have twitched a little, as well. Only because Aang gave even less fucks when in an inebriated state. 

“Oh, you know— the usual.” You let out a lighthearted laugh, and only you notice the way Zuko’s face momentarily drops. 

The air around him quickly screams ‘don’t fuck with me’, then settles back into something more suitable for someone who’s already had half their water weight in alcohol. 

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Zuko forces out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. 

You laugh a little harder. “Can I?”

“Yeah, you can.” 

Sokka lets out this weird, giddy gasp because he loves drama, and cuts in. “Are you two fighting?”

“No.” 

“No.”

You and Zuko look at each other after shutting down Sokka’s question at the same time. The fake smiles you’re wearing are not helping your case at all. 

“Where’s Katara? I’ve been wondering where she’s been this whole time,” you ask in an attempt to keep the energy between you from getting any more awkward than it already is

Aang grows a little pale— the instant karma feels nice. “She’s a little sick tonight.” 

There’s a bit of fear in his voice. She’s totally pregnant. Not that you say that. Instead, you just point in some random direction behind you. “That’s terrible— my cousin actually just mentioned a bug going around. I hope she feels better soon.” 

“Thank you,” the man lets out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to be delusional for just one more night. 

“What about Toph?”

“Home. Asleep.” Sokka rolls his eyes. “She’s like a little old lady now. You’ll see her tomorrow, though, she’s been volunteering at the center.” 

“Volunteering or beating everyone into submission?” Zuko murmurs, and they all erupt in laughter. “She probably runs that place like the military.”

You find yourself starting to zone out as the conversation moves on to a different topic. You’d like to blame some of the wine you’ve been sipping on throughout the night for that. Everything starts to melt together— the live music, the endless chatter in every which direction. The only thing that pulls you out of it is seeing another one of your cousins who had just arrived, waving at you, and you don't shy away from taking that as an opportunity to excuse yourself. 

Aang and Sokka were as kind as usual when you said your goodbyes. Zuko, on the other hand, was harder to read through the pathetic excuse of a smile he gave you. One only meant to save face. 

If only he knew just how much worse he makes things sometimes. Although they’re rare, this isn’t the first fight you two have been in. Perhaps you have been a little petty towards the man, but it’s not you who grows so frustrated at someone’s anger that you begin to hold a grudge yourself. 

You arrive back to your room in the early morning with the regret of not cutting yourself off from the drinks sooner than you did. You wouldn’t say you were drunk, but you were definitely tipsy as you started to shed layers of clothes and jewelry to get in the hot bath that had been prepared prior to your return. 

Aang may be childish at times, but fuck was he a great host. Or maybe it was Katara who had all of these amenities set up for you. Candles and bath salts— you could die a happy woman right now as you settle into the stone tub, taking deep breaths, letting your muscles relax. 

Twenty minutes in, you hear rattling and heavy footsteps that seem to hit the ground with more confusion than the determination an attacker would usually have. It forces you to leave the warmth of your bath, slipping on a robe. Getting hit with annoyance rather than fear may be a little foolish. Overconfident, even. But there’s still alcohol running through your veins, and you aren’t the pride and joy of your clan for no reason— you can absolutely hold your own in a fight. 

When you walk out of the bathroom, you come face to face with exactly who you were thinking of.

“Fuck,” he looks away for a moment, regretting his decision thinking it was okay to just walk in. 

Zuko didn’t think you’d be bathing, for some odd, stupid reason. Judging by the fact that he’s still wearing his usual day clothing and his hairs not up in a bun, it’s safe to assume he went straight here after leaving the banquet. 

You let out a long sigh. “God— what are you doing here?” 

You don’t even sound mad— just disappointed that you have to see him once more before you lay your head to rest, which slightly hurts the man’s ego. Truth be told, he came here to argue with you, but even in his drunken state, he’s finding it quite difficult to do so since he looks like a fucking pervert now. 

“Your comment from earlier— what the hell was that about?” Zuko sounds more wounded than anything right now. 

You cross your arms, leaning against the door frame that connects the room to the bathroom. “What comment?”

“The usual,” he says with air quotes. “Do you not like me anymore or something?”

“You’re seriously asking me that right now?” Your face twists, just dumbfounded at this point. “You ask me that as if I don’t work for you?”

He scoffs. “So what, you’re saying I’m not your friend now?”

“I mean, yeah— you are, but I’m still your subordinate at the end of the day,” you attempt to spell it out for him, trying to get it through his brain that he can’t just act like you two are a pair of besties. 

But he just continues to argue with you. 

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, people don’t fight their superiors.” 

No, they do not. You’re not sure why you even tried to make that an argument, the line between you has blurred a long time ago. 

“You know what, just— forget it.”

The thing is, you're not the best at taking accountability. Most of the arguments you’ve had with him have been swept under the rug after a while. Zuko's not having that right now, though.

“Hm— actually, no— I don’t think I will,” he stubbornly says. “You have been punishing me for fucking weeks now and now you just want me to forget it?”

Punishing him?

You roll your eyes, muttering “oh my god” under your breath, not even bothering to look him straight in the eyes anymore as you walk to the nightstand and pick up a small jar of body cream. 

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” you say dismissively, rubbing the jasmine-scented cream into your hands. “I need to go to sleep, and so should you, honestly.”

It doesn’t matter how well he can handle his alcohol— he reeks of it. 

“I’m trying to talk to you right now so I don’t have to deal with your attitude tomorrow,” he says, as if he hasn’t had an attitude himself the last couple of weeks. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to,” you murmur back. 

What feels like minutes pass after your pathetic attempt to settle your issues with him. At first, he just lets out a sigh, trying to keep his composure, but then he laughs under his breath. 

“So that’s it?” he asks in a condescending tone. “We’re all good now?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Zuko,” you hum. 

More silence follows after. You can just feel his eyes on you despite still facing away, now reaching for some hair oil, waiting for him to leave.

He never does. Even after working the product into your hair, you have yet to hear the door to your room close, making you grow wary. 

There are many things telling you not to turn around at the moment— your blurred mind and tensed body. But even you make mistakes, lots of them with Zuko, and so you finally turn around. 

His lips are on yours. 

You don’t know how long he’d been standing directly behind you, you never even heard his footsteps. All you know is his hands are snaked behind your neck and he’s kissing you and you’re letting him.

It takes you a moment to realize you’re kissing him back— too focused on how soft his lips are, how his tongue glides across your lower lip before slipping inside, so commanding yet so gentle. 

Then you sober up— pressing your palm flat against his chest and pushing him back so you two can look at each other, eyes wide and filled with instant regret.

“What the hell was that?” you try to snap at him, but the sharp edge was dulled from the start, already fearing what’ll change between you from this moment forward. 

“I— fuck,” he stutters, taking another step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Immediately, you cut him off. “No, you shouldn’t have and you know that.”

“I know.” It sounds like a plea coming from him as his chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

Even you start to look apologetic, which breaks his heart a little since you did nothing wrong. The one who crossed the line was him, after all. “You should go. You’re drunk.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it shortly after. There was nothing to say. 

And so he slowly nods and turns around, still in shock by his own actions as he begins to walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of what the fuck just happened on your own. 

This was going to be the longest work trip of your life. 

notes: i hope u guys enjoyed this first chapter!! this was supposed to be a oneshot but then ideas kept popping up in my head and i thought, why don't i just turn this into a longfic like defiance lol. the plan is to follow these two around throughout a couple arcs, with the first one being them trying to navigate their feelings and attempting to go back to normal while trying to fix the shit show in the silk district.

TAGS ARE CLOSED

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The idea seemed so simple. So nice, and something that could be done.

A testament to how much Sokka understood what happened between you two was a great chemistry underneath an even greater friendship. There were no trapping feelings, no ownership, not a hint of jealousy, ever.

The request still took you by surprise.

When it happened, it took you a while to understand what was happening.

Sokka started it in a ramble, and you followed it only so much, too busy tracing the patterns of his biceps under the fur blanket. "Anyways. Not everybody understands intimacy, right? Not everyone gets relationships, I feel. Like, most people only get the 'should be' and 'must be' this-or-that, but none of them actually develop relationships with other people. Even the people they're close to. Does that make sense?" You hummed and nodded along, blissed out and enjoying the sound of his voice, low and calm in the dim light. "Which... Uhm. That makes me realize something. You're perfect fot it."

"Perfect for what?"

"How didn't I notice it before? I'm so fucking stupid."

That makes you chuckle. "You're the least stupid person I know."

"Oh, sometimes I'm wildly dumb," he laughs. "Fuck!" He slaps his own forehead with his free hand, which then comes to rest in your hair. "You're perfect!"

"I... feel like that's a directed compliment."

"And smart!" He kisses your forehead, giggling. Then, his semblance changes in a second to a seriousness you're not used to. "I mean... I told him I'd think about it and help him 'cause the last we talked about this, he said he didn't want any sort of, uhm, escorts—"

Now you were lost. "Sokka, I'm lost. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Can I talk to you? It's gonna be... uhm—weird." His grimace confirms that he means what he says. "I think. It's also important. Private? Definitely private. And definitely weird. And I really hope you don't take it the wrong way."

Although he rambled for many reasons, it rarely came without funny quips or a smile on his face. It was serious.

You stopped tracing patterns in his skin and stood a little further up, resting your head on your hand, elbow digging in the mattress beside him. "I'm listening."

Sokka visibly swallowed. He thought for a few more seconds, only deepening the knowledge that this was a serious business for him, and when he spoke, his voice was lower. It made you shiver beneath the blankets, and you listened with intent to his words. "A few months ago I... came around to an unusual discovery. Very unusual. I was surprised. You know how hard it is to do that. And he surprised me!" His smile then was a grimace again. "Even though he's had a serious relationship... No, I'm starting in the wrong place. Alright. If I told you there's a buddy of mine who's—look—I'm not saying I know the type of men you like, but—I do. I could say that. I won't, but I could—and he's it. Every bit your type—"

"What's my type?"

"Smart, pretty, brave, a little bit reckless—" he listed, counting each finger in the same heartbeat he was asked. His smile became real, sexy, knowing. He winked at you, the smile faded, and he continued. "Well. Even though he's all that... I've lost hope. I think I had it for way too long and now I'm scared it's too late, actually."

"What are you talking about, Sokka?"

"He's a virgin."

After a heartbeat waiting for more where all he did was stare at you expectantly, you shook your head. "Still lost, big guy."

"He's a virgin and I told him I'd help him lose that virginity."

"Woah! I... didn't know you... were into boys? But I'm—"

"No, no!" He interrupted you while laughing. "No, pretty. I'm not. If I were, trust me, he'd be all unvirgined—"

"Not a word."

"—and I'd be all up on that. It's a word now. But... like... I had no clue how to help him, considering he's still a virgin due to a bunch of—uh, intimacy issues? Trust issues as well. Definitely trust issues. He told me, 'No, Sokka, I don't want a fucking escort—how would that be helpful? I told you I don't trust anybody. I'm telling you because I trust you' and it made my job very hard, you know? But I had the answer all along!" His smile is back. He pulls you closer. "Right in my arms."

The words spun for a while around your head while Sokka kissed the skin he could reach, and he was right. It did make sense.

Pondering what he's told you, allowing his kisses to drop to your shoulders even felt... better. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the thought of Sokka considering you someone so worthy of trust.

A year into this arrangement meant you understood each other well, and the years of friendship before that equated to respect and a deep fondness in your heart—maybe even love, if the use of that word did less to scare you to death, but this—Sokka's low chuckle vibrating on your skin made you push your body impossibly closer to his.

"So you trust me?"

In the same heartbeat, he replied. "With my life," easy as that. Sensing the weight of his words in the tensing of your body, he elaborated, whispering your name against your skin. "...you helped Aang and me when we needed a hiding spot for that mission, and you never said a word of that to a soul. You never prod when you realize there are things I can't say. You'd kill for children who aren't even yours. How could I not?"

For the next few hours, his friend is all but forgotten.

The only thing on your mind is the curves of his body and the way he enjoys touching yours.

Nothing else.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

For two months, there are instances where Sokka makes it come to life.

Questions like: "Would you be willing to go to the Earth Kingdom to make it happen?"

"Make what happen, big guy?"

"You know. My buddy? Your trusting hands taking care of a touch-starved person who deserves these able... sexy fingers?"

There are times when the conversation goes well, and others, both of you barely make it past the question itself before Sokka's compliments get the best of you both and drive your legs, arms, limbs, tangled bodies to the nearest surface.

Other times, in places and situations where somehow the sexual tension that always existed between you two can be tamed as if a lid of ice were put over a small fire, the talk develops. And Sokka is the furthest from a liar, but knowing how true he's been about those words in his bed that day makes the whole arrangement even sexier.

"I have a letter from him. D'you wanna see?"

"From your buddy," you chuckled.

"The one and only," he smiled. "I told him I've had the answer all along lying right beneath me," as if the innuendo wasn't enough, he wiggled his eyebrows, "then explained who you are. Told him if it was okay, I'd talk to you about it—shush, I could never say my big mouth got the best of me, and I had already planned everything already, and you were on board, so pretend this is me explaining it all to you for the first time, alright?"

"Alright." Laughing was one of the things you did the most next to Sokka.

"Cool. Everything's explained, and this is what he says." He pushed the letter over the counter.

Even with the blue ice beneath it, the letter still warmed you up. It was the orange-colored parchment of the fire nation, but it was the words that caught your throat and lit you up from head to toe.

ㅤㅤㅤ... as for your 'friend'.

ㅤㅤㅤThe picture is... lovely. Beautiful, if I'm being honest. Breath-taking, if I stop holding myself back. But I must ask—how can you tell me she's perfect (which I can see, thank you for that), and then tell me this woman, whom you call 'a friend and also more and also beyond words I have in my vocabulary' is someone you could just... set me up with? Aren't you jealous? Aren't you setting yourself up for heartbreak? How is this not weird to you? Should it be weird to me? Because it's not. I feel as if it should be. You always did know the way, I think.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤI'm at a crossroad, I feel. Part of me wishes you would talk to her for me, but the other says I'd be just me about the whole ordeal. I'm strange. My strangeness is why I'm still... you know. What if she thinks I'm too weird? What if she doesn't like something about me and months of planning go down the drain? She could hate the way I smell. I don't know, Sokka. I feel redundant, but, help me out.

The letter went on, but you read from the point where Sokka pointed a finger and realized this is where the parts about you stopped. You were smiling while biting your bottom lip, and Sokka noticed.

He smiled knowingly.

"Your buddy's an overthinker," you said.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "You don't say."

"He seems interested, though."

"You're modest."

"He's a flatterer," you mumbled, but the compliments had done their job, and Sokka is aware.

He chuckles. "He's realistic."

"You never said your were sending my picture to anybody."

"That photo's mine and you told me I could do whatever I please with the pictures I took of you. You looked great. It's the one you're in my balcony with the sheets sort of hanging from your shoulders, smiling at the sun rising. You're gorgeous."

"You're a flatterer."

"Shut up and tell me if I can set you both up."

"I already said yes to your crazy idea, Sokka."

He clapped twice. "Excellent! Let's make him get a taste of heaven, then."

And so it went.

Sokka came around, showed you a piece of a letter, talked about what his 'buddy' needed, then asked what you needed and what would make you comfortable.

'What's the best place?' A middle ground came to be. 'Is there anything he should know about you?' Just tell him I'm bossy and it'll be fine. Does that bother him? 'He said, come here, read... that's more than fine by me'. Everything that should be done and said was laid on the table. After the first letter, Sokka often showed you bits and pieces of their exchanges and made sure to include any information about his buddy he thought to be important.

When an important meeting of his buddy coincided with a week you had off, Sokka finished his arrangements. Everything was said and done, except for, maybe, a name.

A part of you said that was maybe part of the trust issues. Something unimportant. Definitely not something to worry about, considering the bridge between you two was Sokka—your clever, sweet, funny, and intelligent guy Sokka. No harm could ever come from him.

(A name would've been good.)

At Gaoling, a luscious and gorgeous city filled with its rivers and forests at the South of the Earth Kingdom, Sokka pins the final dots. It's a place for fancy business, people with riches, and businesses you have no business knowing about. It has a castle with an architecture worthy of Ba Sing Se, and it's in one of the highest floors, where Sokka leaves you with a:

"Have fun, you two."

"Is it weird I'm getting nervous only now? I'm nervous." He smiled at you, then looked up at the Moon from where he stood on your balcony. It reminded you of the picture he showed to his buddy, and, for the first time, it makes you want a name. "I don't even know his name,'' you whispered in despair. "What's his name?"

That made Sokka laugh. "You two are ridiculous. He doesn't know your name either. I call you 'Beautiful' and so does he, did you know? Now you do. I left a bottle of Latierra for you two. Don't drink before he gets here, though." He left the balcony and walked over to you, appreciating the view of the outfit you picked for the occasion. The undergarments were hard to see underneath the silk burgundy robe, but Sokka had a good imagination and memory. "Is it weird that part of me wished I could watch it all?"

The timbre of his voice told you all you needed to know about where his mind was at. "No. I mean—You could stay..."

Sokka only touched the tip of his fingers on your cheeks. After licking his lips, his smile widened, making you feel like prey. "No... I couldn't. Not this time. But I'll be thinking about it. Hope you two know that."

"Sokka..."

"Hmhm. It's a nice view to think about."

"I don't even know what he looks like," it came out in a whine, your eyes closing as he carressed your neck now. "What if someone walks in here and I think it's him but it isn't? All I have is 'he's your type'. Why did you never show me a picture?"

"He hates pictures. And don't worry—beautiful, when have I ever put you in danger?"

"Never."

"Exactly." His caresses told you Sokka wanted more now. Something held him back, and it made the heat between your legs awaken to realize Sokka was leaving everything for his buddy. Not once had he touched you today. "He's the only one with clearance to get on this floor other than me. We'd never half-ass this."

The mental note of 'wealthy' about the Buddy in your mind was scratched in favor of 'stupidly wealthy'.

"Got it."

His fingers stopped in the middle of your throat, and Sokka sighed. When your eyes opened, he was smiling. "The bottle's right there," he pointed somewhere in his back without looking. "I'll wanna know everything tomorrow."

"Alright."

"You look beautiful." With those words and a wink, Sokka left.

At least you knew the next person to come through the threshold of that door would be him.

His buddy.

All you could do was sit and wait.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

When the door opens, you're in the same balcony Sokka was a while ago.

The meeting took time, so you did the best thing you could in the absence of a drink and the inability to smoke without ruining the long shower and getting ready you had already done—you grabbed a book.

That slips from your hand the second you hear the doorknob turning. It almost slips to the floor, and you manage to catch it just a second before it does, but then your eyes fall on the figure that slips through the threshold and closes it behind them.

A thud resonates in the otherwise silent chamber as the book falls after all.

It's him.

Sokka's 'buddy' is him.

The Spring air is warm, and you feel it on your tongue. You're aware of how stupid you must look, taking all of it in, realizing how stupid you had been to agree to all of this with the amount of information you had. My buddy. No pictures. No names. Only trust.

(Maybe not stupid, but Agni in the fucking realms of creation...)

He's dressed in a similar fashion to you: a silk robe, only black instead of burgundy, barefoot, and the closed strings prevent you from looking further. He's broader in real life—before this, you had only seen him in Sokka's drawings, pictures, and the occasional news pamphlet.

Fire Lord Zuko.

Because... that's definitely him.

You'd recognize him by the temperature in the air around him.

Or maybe it's how his long hair, half-pinned and half down, makes you feel. There's a single droplet of sweat in the back of your neck which trickles down when your eyes reach his face and find his already in yours, wide and terrified.

"You didn't know," are his first words to you. His voice. It's smooth, not low like you imagined, but somehow better. It resembles melted butter on warm, crunchy bread, and your mouth waters at the thought. "I—"

look ready to bolt.

You shake your head—your whole body, actually, then pick up the book you dropped before you get up. "I'm sorry, my face and my reaction." I'm stupid. He's already nervous, both of you are, but you trusted Sokka for a reason. "Goddamn it—I'm really sorry," with a laugh, you start walking into the room without glancing in his direction for now. "I didn't know what I expected. It's fucking Sokka. Not as if he has many people he considers 'buddies'."

"Uhm—are we talking about the same Sokka?"

"We are. He knows everybody, but everybody thinks they know him. He's got very few buddies. Of course." Of course it's you. "I apologize again, I didn't want to..." This time, you risk a glance, and there he is, standing in the exact same place he was, with his hands in the same position as before, as if you had frozen him there somehow. "Scare you."

That seems to start breaking the spell.

"I'm not scared," he replies.

"You look terrified."

Zuko's shoulders roll a couple of times in a deliberate gesture, and he visibly swallows. "I'm..." he thinks carefully of the next words. "Nervous. Scared you're second-guessing this, maybe. Or that you regret it now."

You hum. "I'm nervous, too. But not second-guessing. And definitely not regretting."

The 'definitely' seems to do something for him. His shoulders relax. "Oh."

A smile comes to your face. "Are you second-guessing or regretting anything?"

"No." Immediate. Your smile widens as he clears his throat. "Definitely not," he adds with eyes set on you.

It's his eyes that change the temperature in the room, you decide. They're warm like a bonfire, liquid gold, or crackling flames, and it makes you squirm, playing with the book in your hands.

"I took that long?" he points at the book, finally stepping in more.

"Yes, Fire Lord Zuko."

If you were looking elsewhere, you might miss the subtle ways his body betrays him, but you're attracted to every inch of him and his movements, so you store that for later. "Just—Zuko is fine."

"Alright, Zuko. You did take long, but I imagined it. He did say you were in a meeting."

Zuko sits in the immense bed, and you realize that despite having relaxed for a mere second, he's tense. Is that how he is? Shoulders back, perfect posture, slight and calculated moves?

"What were you imagining?" his voice is lower, lost in thought and confusion.

You laugh. "Honestly? I have no clue. All I had to go was..." The memory slaps you in the face, heating your cheeks.

ㅤㅤㅤ"I'm not saying I know the type of men you like, but—I do. I could say that. I won't, but I could—and he's it. Every bit your type—"

ㅤㅤㅤ"What's my type?"

ㅤㅤㅤ"Smart, pretty, brave, a little bit reckless."

"Was...?" Zuko presses.

Not willing to say the exact words, you avoid his eyes. "Apparently, Sokka knows 'my type'."

"Sokka's seen you with enough men to know I'd fit somewhere there in the middle?"

"Sokka's only seen me with Sokka and—" fuck it, you think. Sighing, you do your best Sokka voice. "Smart, pretty, brave, a little bit reckless."

When you open your eyes to gauge his reaction, you're thankful you did.

His embarrassment is visible in the color of his cheeks now.

"So what I'm hearing is..." he says after a few heartbeats. "Sokka called me pretty, smart, and brave."

"And a little bit reckless."

"Yeah, I heard the whole thing." Zuko's shy smile does more than one thing to your insides, and when it directs itself to you, it makes a mess. "Is it weird if we talk about him?"

The laughter is inevitable. You lean on the table behind you. "It'd be weird if we didn't. He's the reason we're both here."

Tension leaving his body is as visible as steam leaving a heated surface, and you're thankful once again. "Right. I... don't know how much he's told you."

"It's Sokka."

Zuko laughs for the first time. "Agni, I'm fucked."

You join him in laughter. "I'm—yeah, I'll avert from the obvious joke this time."

It swells your chest in pride when Zuko's laughter doubles and continues for another moment as your words register, and his cheeks turn redder. "Oh, okay. Gimme a second."

"Hey—I'm in no rush whatsoever. As a matter of fact," turning around in search of it, you find the bottle Sokka promised and lift it in the air. "A present from your friend."

Zuko's knowing smile is a problem for you. "He's the funniest person I know." Seeing the confusion on your face, Zuko points at the bottle. "That was my present to him. His last birthday."

"Oh, I'll have a talk with him about repurposing gifts when I see him."

"No, it's fine. He never liked wine, I should've known better."

"You were trying." The pop it makes when you open it is pleasing, and it gives you a moment of distraction from the heavenly beautiful face behind you. Two cups. Breathe so you don't drop any of the expensive liquor. "Do you want it?"

"I think I'd rather not be tipsy."

"One glass makes you tipsy? I'm not planning on drinking any more than that and, frankly, I need this."

Behind you, there's the sound of fabric shuffling. "Yeah." He says after a moment. "One glass would be nice, thank you."

So polite. You pour his as well and then breathe in deep before turning back around.

All the tension that had left is back in him, and you mentally curse yourself for taking your eyes off of him.

Zuko follows each one of your steps in his direction and accepts the glass with care to not touch your skin in the process.

"I'd ask how much about me he said, but I think I can have an idea," you knew about the photo, and if the bits and pieces of the letters from Zuko he shared with you were an indicator, you guessed Zuko got the same when Sokka replied in his own letters.

Thinking back now, if you had done the job of peeking a bit more into the letters Sokka showed you, maybe you'd know who it was all along.

Sitting next to him, you decide to take the lead already. "I was being truthful. I'm nervous, too."

The confession makes him whip his head, cup halfway to his mouth. "You are?" The disbelief makes you smile.

"Yeah." You're the Fire Lord is not quite right. You're so beautiful it hurts sounds too true. "Of course. I—this is nerve-wracking."

"Being with... a virgin? Or with me?"

"The first option," you chuckle.

Zuko seems to find the answer a pleasing one. He smiles kindly and shyly for the first time. "Oh." He takes a small sip of the wine. "Well. At least that."

"I thought you believed me when I told you I didn't regret it."

"And I do! Really. But not regretting and my position not making you nervous are two different things."

"Your position doesn't make me nervous." The reassurance grants you this: Zuko turns around, sitting with his legs crossed in the bed and facing you entirely. His posture is loose, and you're content it was you and not the wine that did that. "Although..." with a dramatic pause, you gain a raise of eyebrows from him. "I did think the weirdest thing to happen in my artist life would be to sleep with the Avatar's best friend."

Zuko laughs. Two things happen when he does. One, you realize how fucked you are when it comes to this being one of your strongest core memories—his neck, the warmth of the air around him, how insanely gorgeous he looks with his hair framing his face and laughing.

Two, a hook sinks somewhere in your chest. Deep, strong, and clung to a dark place.

"Oh, Agni. Sokka really dragged you into a mess, huh?"

"Did he?" It's your turn to sip the wine.

His shrugging shoulders and attempt at being coy are trumped by his cheeks painted pink once again. "Kinda, yeah."

"Your smile is so beautiful." It blurts out of you. It paints his face in a crimson tone, making your insides twist and turn to match the storm happening in his eyes, but you're not done. "I know you must get it a lot from people surrounding you, all the time, but... It's the truth. Someone once told me that compliments which come from the heart should always be shared, so the happiness is too."

"I see you also know Hakoda."

"I see you're a master at deflecting compliments." Something bubbles inside of you at his proximity to Sokka's family. "But that's alright." Another sip from your cup, a small one. Talking to Zuko is not something you ever imagined doing, but are enjoying it. Treasuring it. "Hakoda's a genius. I try listening to my elders whenever I realize they have a functioning brain on their shoulders. Means they've accumulated wisdom."

"You're right. I've never not listened to my uncle anymore. I did it enough in a lifetime, never again."

"Right... your uncle, the Dragon of the West."

Zuko's smile widens. "He'll be pleased to know he's still being remembered by that nickname. Especially amongst the young, beautiful ladies."

You laugh. "Ah—not good at taking compliments but smooth as jasmine tea when delivering them, aren't you?"

"I like Hakoda's advice." Zuko's coy demeanor makes you wonder what he's hiding underneath it. "Plus..." You wait patiently for him and whatever trail of thought robbed you of him for a few moments. When he returns, Zuko's face becomes serious. "Can I be honest with you?"

Ah. "Always," you tell him in earnest. "You'd gain all of my respect if you always were. Even when it hurts. I prefer honesty to half-truths, and I find that the world would be a better place if everyone found it in themselves the guts to do what it takes and be true to what is. So yes. Be honest."

Zuko takes his time absorbing your words. When he's done, his next sip from the cup is a gulp. He breathes in, out, and then looks at somewhere on the wall behind you, averting your gaze. "I understand my privilege at having had the best healers to deal with..." Instead of finishing, he points with his free hand to the scar on his face. Ah, something in you whispers. "And—I'm aware of—this. My bone structure," he adds that part with a mirth that contains stories from another time. "I know I'd be good-looking if it weren't for this. But... when it comes to compliments, I'd rather deflect than accept something I'm always unsure if it's true. Mostly certain it isn't, most of the time. It's why I did my best to take care of my body since my coronation and did such a good job at it. People compliment me now, and I can pretend they mean my physique instead of this, which means I can accept without sounding or being fake about it, but in reality, I find it hard to see beauty in me. In my face."

The confession does it for you. The respect you have for him is planted like a seed, and you know each moment in his presence where Zuko offers you something real and honest, it'll be watered to grow as if it lived under the perfect spot of shade, sun, and moonlight.

"Can I be honest with you?" You echo.

Zuko's eyes return to your face. "Always," he echoes, too, as earnest as yours had been.

"I understand a bit more about scars than most people. I won't be self-righteous, I'm aware the War has left its scars in everybody, but we're talking about the visible kind here, right?"

"Right."

"And while I know sometimes the ugliest scars are invisible to the eye, having your darkest or hardest moments painted on your skin is not something the majority is used to."

He nods his head, warm eyes agreeing more than the gesture could ever.

"So, since you'll see this at some point tonight, I wanted to share it before I explain myself." With that, you lift the robe of both your arms to expose your forearms. There are two scars, one on each, and both are ugly, deep, uneven. Zuko asks no questions, but you do hear the muttered Agni which escapes his lips. "There's that. And..." you get lost in how to say the next words. Allow the robes to fall back down, sip more of the wine, which is making this conversation easier, and thank Tui and La, somehow manage to find them. "I think I understand it better now how someone as handsome as you is still a virgin."

That was clearly not what Zuko expected from the way his eyebrows pinched together, and he mutters, "What?"

"I was confused at first. Then you walked in, and now we're talking, and it makes more sense to me."

"Does it?"

"It does. See: you have a problem finding beauty in yourself. Intimacy, the whole deal, demands us to feel some sort of things, and when trauma blocks that ability, it can be really hard to just... let go." The cup in the hotel you're both in is big, which is something you're thankful for. "I find you beautiful. Being very frank...I think it adds character to what would otherwise be an annoyingly handsome and royal face. It's also part of who you are—part of what molded you into being the person who sits across from me right now, am I right in assuming that?"

If your words shock him too much, Zuko's quick to recover. Other than doe, wide eyes, he seems to still have a hold of himself. He nods, silent and looking at you without blinking.

"So did this," you gesture both arms up. "Unfortunately. I wouldn't be the woman I am today without having gone through this, and that means this is now a part of me, whether I like it or not. Now—granted, there might be people who tell you that you're handsome, or beautiful, but don't mean it. I, on the other hand, I rather like being known as the person who gives it to others raw and honest, because they know that when I speak something, I mean it. So... I find you beautiful. I'm not sure I would if I had met you before the change of heart Sokka speaks about, but now? Now I see someone marked by life in painful ways who still managed to find a path into being kind, benevolent, fair, and, if your letters are anything to go by... funny, too." You chuckle. "In my book, the compliment's real."

Zuko's next breath is shaky. Also... steamy? There are definitely bits of him that have a bit of smoke coming out, now that you notice.

When he speaks, it distracts you from it.

Both of his hands clap on his face, rubbing it. "Agni and Spirits, he was right," it's said with a groan.

"Who was?"

"Sokka," now it's a whine. "You're—please don't take this as pressure, but you're... perfect," he lifts his gaze, removing the hands from his eyes, right before he says the last word. As if he's looking to confirm he was right. Or that maybe you're real.

"No, I'm not."

Zuko laughs, then he squirms in his seat and sips a bit more of his wine. "You are, but I see where you're coming from. I'm aware you're not perfect, beau—uhm, I'm aware. But you also kind of are."

"For this, you mean?"

"I... yeah? Is that awful to say?"

"Zuko, that's flattering as hell," you laugh. "Do you realize how honored I was that Sokka trusted me enough to consider me for this, and how it amplified tenfold when you walked through that door?"

He squirms more, and it ignites you. What was smoke is now a flame, burning alive and beautiful, lighting up your insides.

"Stop," he breathes out.

"Hmmm, I don't think I will, actually." When your gazes meet again, Zuko averts his eyes, blush intact on his gorgeous cheeks. "Maybe just for now?"

"You're so kind," the words drip in irony, but the smile is ever as sweet. Zuko is the type of person unable to hide his feelings from his eyes, it seems.

"I am." You'll see how much would send him into an early combustion, so you withhold it. "Wanna know what you are?"

He hums, prompting you with raised eyebrows as well.

Finishing the cup in one final gulp, you raise the glass at him. "Great at gift picking." The nerves went down with the glass. You lean down to place it beside the bed, unwilling to get up or get too far from him again. "Horrible at directing the great gifts you pick, of course, but nobody can be perfect."

"He never even tasted it!" His protest is followed by an exasperated sigh. "I know he would've liked it."

"You're right," you know Sokka well enough to confirm that. "He's as stubborn as a sky bison, though."

"You really do know him, huh?" Zuko's legs come up a bit higher, and he hugs them around the knees, holding a half-full glass with loose fingers.

You sit cross-legged, sort of mimicking his position. "Have known him for years." When his reply is nothing but a hum, you ask. "Does it bother you?"

It's unnecessary for him to feign innocence as to what you're referring to. Zuko's sips are small, contained, and make you want to drink more. Or maybe taste the wine on his lips. You enjoy the way he almost always seems to think before talking.

"Should it? A traditional part of me wants to believe it should, but... being frank, not even a little."

"I'm happy to hear that. I know this isn't the ideal way for things to happen for you—again, I was and am more than honored that you want to, but idealistically, things should be different. Everyone deserved their first time to be... comfortable. With someone they trust, and feeling sure of it, desiring it, wanting it, but... yeah. I'm happy you're not bothered by how it's going."

"Was your first time like that?"

Your laughter at his question is devoid of any happiness. "Spirits, no. Not by a mile. I think rarely do people get what they deserve."

Zuko smiles, and it's a sheepish thing. "Unfair, then."

"Life is, Zuko. I'm sure you know that better than most people."

"I do. I meant unfair with you, specifically, that you'd give me a perfect first time, but you didn't get one."

"What?"

"You said it: comfortable. With someone I trust." He swallows visibly, upper body squirming. "I'm sure of it. Desiring. Wanting. So..."

It takes everything in you not to jump him at the words.

Closing your eyes to inhale deeply is a necessity—Zuko has a way with words, and it's too hot outside and in this room to blame the weather for the goosebumps rising all over your skin.

"Well..." I'm going to eat you alive. "Glad you're getting what you deserve with this," you pin your eyes on him.

Assessing his body posture now, it's easy for you to recognize the signs.

Where there was stiffness, now there's only the soft rise and fall of his breathing. His blush spread down to his neck, and although it's less dark than it was when you teased him, it's there, almost as if it's permanent. Zuko squirms, too, but he knows how to hide it well. Too bad for him, you're allowed to stare and able to catalog the ways he does so.

To stop his whole body from moving, he moves his fingers against the glass or his legs.

"You're staring," he says, interrupting your mental assessment.

"It's a beautiful view," you continue looking, wishing he was already without robes, clothes, shame.

"Yeah, it is." The words make you gaze, only to find his eyes doing the same to your body.

Deciding to test the water, you sit on your knees instead of your legs.

Keeping the robe was only for embarrassment purposes—you were okay with how you looked at this point in life, but showing yourself to someone new was always nerve-wracking.

Zuko had already seen the ugliest part of you and was still here, staring, burning holes into you.

His gaze made you hot. It was cheap and ridiculous, but the truth.

His heat warmed the very air around him, and the last thing you wanted was to be drowning in sweat before he even put his hands on you.

When you remove your robes, Zuko's eyes darken.

Those gorgeous honey orbs became a shade of gold, but one seen during nighttime. He follows your movement of dropping the clothing on the floor as he sips the rest of his wine.

Then, Zuko all but throws the glass on the side of the bed, earning a gasp from you as you wait for the breaking sound. When nothing comes but a thud, you look back at him to find him smirking and lifting his body on his knees the same way you are.

"Carpet," he offers as an explanation, inching closer.

"Right." You swallow. "I feel like you're about to melt me."

Zuko's smile widens. "I think that might be just you..." he's closer, almost inches apart from you. "I can control my body temperature. No blaming my bending now for what you're feeling."

"Oh..."

"Plus," now, close enough that you could count the eyelashes on his face, Zuko places his hand on your hip. "I recall the second and only other picture Sokka's ever sent being of you... Your back, more specifically, painted in wax. I thought you liked the heat?"

That little shit. Your eyes close, and you eliminate the remaining distance between your bodies, wanting and needing to feel him. "I really do."

When you open your eyes to gauge his reaction one final time, you would swear his eyes are black. They're not, but they seem.

Zuko licks his lips and you've had enough waiting.

"You'll tell me if I do anything you don't like?" you ask, pleading with your eyes.

He nods in reply, sighing when your hands start touching him by his arms, sliding up to feel the whole extent of them. "Ideally, you'd tell me if I do something you like, too, so I can do it again and again..." Zuko's eyes close at your words. "But I won't ask too much of you." This time, you want to say.

But you refrain from dreaming that way.

Enjoy the blessing you have right now.

When the distance closes between your lips, everything else is forgotten.

It starts off slow.

Then, like a storm that starts with a soft drizzle, it envelops the both of you until you feel his presence has drenched all the way to your soul.

Zuko is responsive.

It drives you mad the second it happens—at the first tangle of your fingers in his silky, long hair, when all of the air escapes his lungs and his mouth opens up for you, the first moan you let out is at the realization that touching Zuko will ruin you entirely.

The memory of how far he's come when touching another person returns to you.

ㅤㅤㅤ""How far has he gone with his girlfriend, then?"

ㅤㅤㅤ""Hands. Here, read it—"

ㅤㅤㅤ""Sokka, I have my working mask on, just tell me."

ㅤㅤㅤ""I don't feel comfortable reading this out loud. ... Fine, Tui and La, I can feel you giving me that look even behind that thing. He said he and Mai went as far as touching each other? Uhm. Yeah, he says here she made him cum and the other way around too, but she only touched him above his clothes. Said she tried doing more, but, you know, he got frightened and stopped it."

Your left hand starts exploring him as soon as you remember.

Zuko's body is so pliant it's easy to push him until he's sitting on his ass again, and climbing to sit on his lap makes you drunker than the wine.

He's so responsive it hurts. It pains you to realize how much every touch has an effect on him because this might be the first time he's allowing himself to experience another touch without the hate and trauma that blocked him before from allowing his mind to feel good.

When your tongues meet as he gasps for air, you moan, and he sighs in response, hands tightening on your waist.

It takes a few bold licks on his lip and a bite on his bottom lip before he untangles some knots in his mind and starts exploring your body, too.

Your hand had already found its way through his hair — which he enjoys having played with —, his nape — he likes it when you squeeze it —, his back, his arms again, and they were gliding now through his torso when you feel the first roaming of his hands.

One of them goes up to your back while the other goes down to your ass, and your hum is pleased against his mouth.

It's difficult to stop kissing him. Bordering on impossible.

Zuko is a terrific kisser. He uses just enough tongue, knows how to fall into rhythm instead of trying to battle you for it, knows how to allow it to get dirty, slow, how to get lost in it.

When you manage to untangle from his mouth to play with his neck, you discover by his soft gasp how sensitive he is.

Agni and Spirits, is all of him sensitive?

You smile at knowing that you will discover.

He's massaging your ass with both hands when you start the assault on his neck with your tongue and teeth, marking your way down to his toned chest. He's gathering courage, using his strength to pull you closer and to rock your hips against his.

The hardening length inside his trousers makes you moan out loud for the first time, and you feel the hot breath he releases next to your ear in response.

I can control my body temperature.

Are you making him lose control?

You hope so. Pray to Yue in the sky that you are.

Then, Zuko ruins you further by whispering, "I liked that."

"What part, baby?"

Zuko moans at the pet name that slipped. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall his reaction to being called Fire Lord by you, but it seems he enjoys both ends of the spectrum.

"My neck," he's breathless. His voice sounds a bit broken and you nip at his throat for being so good for you. He whimpers when you do so, and you place a kiss on top of the red mark with a smile.

"You're so sensitive all over... I love it so fucking much," you mark the last words by rocking your hips harder, then sucking on his earlobe to discover whether that part is something he enjoys as well.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," it comes out in a moan.

Zuko then surprises you—both with the sheer force of his strength and his action of flipping you over in the mattress, pressing your back against it, and coming on top of you.

His eyes are so open and vulnerable that you have to cup his head between your hands to look at him before diving back in.

The way your bodies move together feels like a dance.

Each grind of his hips is met with one of yours. His hands on your legs lead them to wrap around his waist, and like Yue pulls the Sea, your hands on his head give him the permission to explore your own body as well.

When he's kissing down your throat, so close to your body with hips so desperate to meet yours, Zuko shakes his head, and all your ministrations halt for a second.

"I don't know where to start," whether it's the confession or the whimper in his voice, you're unsure, but it makes you pull back on the bossiness inside of you for longer.

"We've already started." You kiss the top of his head, enjoying the smell of his hair. "But you could take these clothes off. I'm burning up, Mr. I Control My Body Temperature. I'm sweating, Zuko."

"We both are," but he laughs at your teasing and obeys your request. His robe comes off, then the silk blouse underneath it, and when he reaches for the pants, you stop him.

"Can I?"

His reply is only an enthusiastic nod.

You take off the rest of his clothes, moaning at the sight of him naked. Instead of getting lost in his head, Zuko focuses on leaving you in the same state.

Part of you realized his nervousness would come from this—not knowing where to start, but allowing him to feel as if he's taking the lead might be the answer.

He removes each piece with reverence, planting kisses on your skin along the way and moaning the more of you that is revealed.

When he gets to your undergarments and realizes he's not the only one who was dripping, Zuko's chin drops, leaving his mouth agape and you lying there with your legs open, as flushed as he looks, as affected as he is.

"Can I..." when his words drift off into the wind, you reply by spreading your legs apart more.

For someone who's never been touched, Zuko sure knows how to use his instinct to touch somebody else.

And he wants to.

He ties his hair up in a bun with the hair itself, unbothered to look away from the sight in front of him, and you're on fire due to the heat in his eyes. He uses his hands to glide through your legs, looks up to you once to get the confirmation he needs and when he sees you playing with your boobs, eyes glued to his each movement, he bends down again.

"Can you—will you tell me what's good?"

Time to take the reigns.

"I will." With one hand coming down to slide between his hair again, you allow Zuko to explore and discover because that means you get to feel his uncertainty fading and blending into something anew.

What he lacks in experience, Zuko makes up for in being a great, keen, and fast student.

The hand in his hair guiding him to the perfect spot where you want him is understood as his helper really quick.

When you have to grab on tighter because his tongue used the right pressure, Zuko moans. When you let go, holding it lighter, he understands it as 'not as good as before'.

In under a minute, Zuko's learned the way you enjoy being devoured.

All it takes is a few tugs and a couple of pointed moans for him to understand he needs to focus some strength at the tip of his tongue, use and maintain a rhythm, comprehends how sometimes licking down and cleaning up the mess that leaks from you due to his ministrations can be just as good—he pushes his tongue inside of you once and is rewarded with the loudest moan so far, and that's when he does it—Zuko grinds down on the bed and you tug on his hair through the mist of your pleasure.

"Stop that," your demand is met immediately. "I'm the one—ah—I'll be the one touching—you. Not this bed."

It's hard to talk when he gets back to what he's becoming so good at it, so fast.

When the heat in your belly starts coiling and traveling south, you have to beg him to stop.

His head perks up from between your legs and every curse word you know falls from your lips at the sight of him with lips and chin glistening.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Nothing at all. I just wanna touch you, too. Please. Come here..." he obeys, smiling. You get to watch his reaction to the next words. "You did so good I wanna make you feel good too... Fire Lord."

He blushes all the way down to his chest.

This time, it's your turn to bend his visions—you may not have a bigger strength than him, but you have training, and he's too flustered and shaky to realize when you wrap your legs around him in a way that allows you to flip him with his back against the bed.

Instead of sitting on top of him, though, you slide to the side of the bed until your knees hit the ground.

With a comer hither motion, you look him in the eye. "Come."

Zuko obeys. He always obeys.

It's so selfish of you to do this, but you need it. "I want you sitting on your stupidly big throne one day and remembering what I look like when I'm like this."

At this point, his mouth seems permanently etched this way—gaping, hard breathing coming off with broken whimpers and moans in between.

Putting your mouth on him while you can feel slick sliding in your inner thighs from what he had done to you is an experience you never imagined having.

Usually, you get lost in this—you enjoy giving pleasure a lot, but this is more than just that. Zuko is an artpiece when he's in bliss.

His hands grip the comforter underneath him, and you let him. It takes a few seconds of getting used to the feeling of having your mouth wrapped around him for him to break off the spell and place a gentle hand on your head—not to guide or to push, but to hold.

Gauging his every reaction is worth the uncomfortable position. He's perhaps the most beautiful sight you've ever seen, with his dark hair falling on his shoulders, all of him flushed pink, and his inability to breathe properly.

When you take him all the way down, breathing through your nose to withstand the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat, you're rewarded with his first choked-up cry.

And your name.

Zuko starts muttering your name, eyes screwed shut and head shaking. You do that a few more times before you see the sweat sliding down his chest and decide it's time you stop before he finishes. You have no idea of whether this will go all night, and you'd rather think about anything else other than when this is done, so you lick all of him, placing a kiss at the tip when his eyelids flutter open just enough to see you do it, and you climb back on the bed.

"D'you want me to finish that?"

He still has enough sanity to shake his head and hold you. "No—I—no." He clears his throat. "I might pass out when I come, and I don't want—I want to feel you."

"So good at asking for things," you whisper, climbing back on top of him.

Despite what you imagined, Zuko does go in for a kiss.

It ingrains in your mind the way he cradles your neck to do so. His hand is big—his grip is strong, and his eyes are drunk.

A dance or a kiss—you'd bet on both. Zuko knows the way you like it already and isn't scared of it. The happy sigh coming off his nose when you start touching him again makes you realize how much he enjoys it—your touches, any small touches.

Your bodies melting together is a blur or a mist of heat, but you're still happy with it.

All the confirmation you need that Zuko is okay with you sitting on his lap and aligning his cock with you is the frantic nods he gives in between kisses. It's everything you need.

He begs for a second when you sit all the way down, so easily due to how wet everything is—him, you, the fluids and the sweat and—Agni, you're gonna burst into flames.

In your ear, he whispers. "Hold—wait—oh, god." And each whisper makes you hotter. A part of you wishes you had brought a candle so he could warm it with his bending and then brand his name on your skin, but this will have to do. Being full of him would have to be enough.

Nothing would be enough for a while after this.

Not when Zuko holds you by the nape and nods permission for you to continue. Nothing will satisfy you like looking at his face, the desperate pleasure he finds when he feels you going all the way up only to sink back down in one motion.

Nothing can top his broken whimpers. The way he mutters your name and holds onto your neck as if it's a prayer, a saving boat, a threat that binds him to reality.

The pain that starts cramping in your legs is not enough to stop you from the motion. Not when Zuko looks drunker by the second, more lost in it the same way you are.

A part of you is aware you should switch positions so it's easier for him to pull out before something unwanted happens, but he feels so good.

"You feel so good, baby."

Zuko cries against your skin. His hips started snapping up to meet your thrusts a few seconds ago and you're certain he's in a mind fog, from the way he's been unable to form words since entering you.

There's also the way his hands feel warmer than the rest of him. They grab onto your neck while the other arm is wrapped tight around your middle, and Zuko starts mumbling something against your breasts.

"What?"

Zuko's eyes are swimming in the heat you feel all over—inside you, on your skin, the whole room must be on fire, but you could care less.

"Gotta pull out, I should pull out."

It's your turn to cry.

Then he does it again—Zuko slips out only to flip you around and climb back on top of you, sliding back inside in one motion that makes you both cry out.

"Tell me if it's too much," is all he says before he starts finding his rhythm once again. "I wanna make you cum undone," he states before trying to find it—a spot, the depth, the rhythm.

Nobody can say Zuko is not a determined person. It takes a few thrusts for him to realize that the wetness between your bodies means he has to stay closer to not slip out of you.

Then he starts finding the right spot that makes you scream. At the first cry of his name, Zuko gives a moaned laugh and does the exact same thing again, and again.

"Don't stop," he tells you. Don't stop saying my name.

"Zuko. Don't stop." And he doesn't.

Not until the fire snaps and wipes everything in your way. All you can do is cry out for him over and over before you're shaking underneath him, tightening around his dick, and obliging him to pull out before he spills where he shouldn't.

Both of you shake from head to toe in each other's arms.

Never in your life had you gotten so lost. Mind so blank.

All you can do is hold on to him and allow him to hold back.

Zuko's mouth starts kissing on our neck, and the weight of his body on top of you amplifies as he loses strength, but you love it. You like the mess, the stickiness, how everything is drenched, and neither of you seems to care.

All you want is for his kisses to never stop.