ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪɴɢ

-–—•

Aang:

Aang absolutely loves rainy days because they force everyone to slow down. No rushing off to save villages, no training schedules, no long journeys on Appa. Just a quiet day with you.

He wakes up before you and immediately notices the rain tapping against the windows. Instead of getting out of bed, he curls closer, deciding that whatever plans he had can wait.

The moment you try to get up, he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into your shoulder.

"It's raining. That means we're officially required to stay here for at least another hour."

-–—•

Zuko:

The two of you would spend most of the day tucked away in his private chambers, wrapped in blankets with steaming cups of tea. Zuko claims he wants to read reports, but somehow he always ends up abandoning them whenever you ask for his attention.

He'd secretly enjoy sitting beside a window with you, listening to the storm together. Not much talking required. Just your shoulder against his and his hand finding yours beneath a blanket.

If the rain becomes particularly heavy, he'd convince you to join him on one of the covered palace balconies. Standing there together, watching the gray skies and distant mountains disappear behind sheets of rain, he'd rest his chin atop your head and simply hold you.

Zuko is also the type to become unexpectedly affectionate during rainy weather. More lingering touches. More forehead kisses. More excuses to pull you closer whenever there's a chill in the air.

-–—•

Sokka:

Rainy days become storytelling days. Sokka would spend hours dramatically retelling old adventures, making himself sound ten times cooler than he actually was. Every time you call him out for exaggerating, he'd act deeply offended.

He'd try to cook something for the two of you. Whether it turns out edible is another question entirely.

If the weather gets particularly stormy, he'd unconsciously become more protective. An arm draped over your shoulders. Pulling you closer when thunder shakes the walls. Making sure you're warm without making a big deal out of it.

Sokka absolutely loves making you laugh on days like this. He'd spend half the afternoon doing ridiculous impressions, making up fake stories, or challenging you to increasingly stupid games just to hear your laugh again.

At some point, you'd catch him staring at you while rain taps softly against the windows. When you ask what he's looking at, he'll immediately get flustered and insist he wasn't looking at anything.

-–—•

Katara:

Katara would be the first one awake, listening to the rain tapping softly against the windows. Instead of getting out of bed immediately, she'd stay curled beneath the blankets, enjoying the rare excuse to slow down.

She'd gently brush hair from your face and smile to herself when you instinctively move closer to her warmth in your sleep.

Rainy days would bring out Katara's nurturing side even more than usual. Before long, she'd be making tea or a warm breakfast, insisting that everyone deserves comfort when the weather turns gloomy.

She'd tell you stories from the Southern Water Tribe - childhood memories, funny moments with Sokka, and little details she doesn't usually talk about. Rain always seems to make people reflective, and Katara would find herself sharing pieces of herself she keeps hidden.

Waterbending would become playful rather than practical. Tiny droplets from the rain would dance around the room at her command just to make you smile.

-–—•

Toph:

She pretends to complain when the weather ruins whatever plans you had. "Great. Now we're stuck inside with each other all day." Meanwhile, she's already sitting close enough that your shoulders are touching.

Rainy days are one of the few times Toph lets herself be still. No training. No proving herself. No showing off. Just the steady sound of rain against the roof and your presence beside her.

She'd never outright ask to cuddle. Instead, she'd gradually invade your personal space until you're practically wrapped around each other. If you point it out, she'll deny everything. "You're the one leaning on me."

If you braid her hair while you're sitting together, she acts annoyed the entire time. "What are you doing? Stop fussing." Yet the second you stop, she'll immediately ask why.

If you fall asleep beside her, she'll never admit how much she enjoys it. But she'll stay perfectly still for hours just so she doesn't wake you.

Toph secretly loves when you describe what the storm looks like outside. The gray clouds, the rain sliding down the glass, the flashes of lightning. She listens carefully, storing every detail away.

-–—•

A/N:

-–—•

The palace was always quietest at night.

No council meetings. No guards announcing arrivals. No heavy expectations pressing against his shoulders for a few fleeting hours. Just the candlelight mixed with the moonlight, and you beside him.

Zuko should have been asleep.

Instead, he lay awake with his head resting against the pillow, watching you breathe softly beside him while his fingers traced absentminded patterns along your cheek. Gentle. Careful. Like touching something sacred.

You stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake, only leaning unconsciously closer into his warmth. His chest tightened. Because all he could think about was her. Azula.

Not the version the world feared. Not FireLord Ozai’s perfect daughter. Not the girl sharpened into something cruel and dangerous before she even had the chance to become a child.

Just his little sister… he wondered; painfully, endlessly - if things had been different… would she have loved you too? The same way Sokka loves Aang as his own brother?

Would she have sat with you during dinners, making dry comments that only you seemed able to answer without fear? Would you have made her laugh? Real laughter, not the sharp-edged kind she used like a weapon. Would she have trusted you enough to let her guard down? Would she have seen you as a sister?

Zuko’s thumb brushed beneath your eye softly. You were everything warm in his life now. Everything patient, kind, safe. Sometimes he mourned the fact that Azula never got the chance to know softness without suspecting weakness. That she couldn’t have the growth he had with his real friends.

“She would’ve liked you,” he whispered quietly into the darkness, almost like a confession. “I think… maybe she would’ve hated how much she liked you.”

You shifted slightly in your sleep, your hand finding his instinctively beneath the blankets. Zuko looked down at your intertwined fingers and swallowed hard.

In another life, maybe the three of you could’ve sat together beneath the palace gardens without fear or politics or cruelty poisoning every moment.

Maybe Azula would’ve teased him for the way he looked at you. Maybe she would’ve rolled her eyes every time you defended him during arguments. Maybe she would’ve called the two of you disgustingly affectionate before secretly lingering nearby anyway. She’d know became a third wheel yet refused to change anything about that.

Maybe she could’ve been happy. The thought hurt too much to hold for long.

Zuko leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead before closing his eyes beside you.

Somewhere deep inside him, the little boy who once chased after his sister despite everything still hoped that one day, somehow, she’d come home too.

-–—•

"You are sitting down!"

Sokka let out an offended noise as you shoved him toward the chair. "I'm fine"

"You're bleeding all over my floor..."

"It's barely blood!"

You glanced at the streak of red dripping from his forearm before deadpanning, "Right. Must be strawberry juice, no?"

He opened his mouth to argue again, stubborn as ever, but winced halfway through and immediately ruined his own point. He explained that a mission had gone horribly wrong. What was supposed to be a simple supply run turned into a full ambush the second the Gaang crossed paths with a group of thugs wanting to steal the supplies. Everyone made it out, thanktully, but not without damage.

Mostly to Sokka.

He mentioned how Katara and Aang had already left ahead hours ago to help a nearby village recover from the attack, and while Sokka insisted they could just catch up and ask Katara to heal him later, you refused immediately. Although that's where his story ends making sense to you; Katara leaving her brother unattended despite the obvious bleeding and injuries? Hmmm…

"She's miles away already" you muttered, digging through the medical bag "and I'm not dragging her back because you decided getting sliced open builds character."

"It was one cut" Sokka defends “you should’ve seen the other gu”-

"One cut?!" You turned to him sharply, cutting his sentence. "Your sleeve is shredded, your lip is bleeding, and I'm pretty sure there's a bruise forming on your face right now."

Sokka leaned back dramatically in the chair, grinning. "Worried about me?"

You tried not to smile. You really did. Unfortunately, Sokka noticed immediately. “Aha!” he pointed weakly. “There it is. You still think I’m handsome.”

“Unfortunately” You sighed in defeat, kneeling in front of him with a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. The teasing would’ve been more effective if he didn’t look so exhausted. Dirt and soot smeared across his skin, exhaustion heavy beneath his eyes. Even now, he kept trying to sit straighter whenever you looked too concerned, like he had something to prove.

A few moments of silence pass while you carefully patched him up.

“Sokka?” He hummed watching you fix him so passionately “what really happened out there?”

“What? I just told you- oh…”- he looked back into your eyes only to notice you slowly shaking your head. He is a terrible liar. “Am I that obvious?” He faked a laugh.

“Don’t change the subject” you huffed your hair out of the way, he noticed the gesture and immediately reached his hand to fix your hair for you.

-–—•

Turns out Sokka’s injuries weren’t entirely from the mission. Well. Not officially. You found that out after twenty minutes of questioning and Sokka avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it.

“You got jumped by who?!” you asked nervously, arms crossed as he sat on the bed with fresh bandages wrapped around his knuckles. He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back.

“I noticed the way those fools kept bothering you” he looked at the candle slowing melting its wax, “…I noticed how you kept taking the longer way home just so you won’t come face to face with them”

You stared at him in disbelief - he knew everything all along? There was a bruise forming near his eye, another near his cheekbone, and cuts scattered across his hands from throwing punches. Clearly, this had been an unfair fight.

“Sokka~” you sighed placing your hands on your face. You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“They were flirting with you!” He said it like the words physically offended him. You blinked.

“You fought them because they flirted with me?”

“In my defense,” Sokka pointed, “they were also thugs.”

“Okay so, you got into a fight because a gang tried flirting with me - partly out of jealousy, and partly because they were thugs who had no business bothering me in the first place.” You still trying to connect the dots, holding every urge to not blush and kick your feet in the air due to the idea of Sokka’s jealousy over you.

You stared into his eyes and saw no anger - just Sokka being reckless. Jealousy. Protectiveness. That ridiculous stubborn need he had to keep you safe even when it got him hurt in the process.

Your thumb brushed gently against the bruise on his cheek. “You know I can handle myself, right?”

“I know!” His voice softened immediately. “…Doesn’t mean I’m gonna enjoy people treating you like that.”

The irritation in your chest melted embarrassingly fast. You leaned in closer placing a small kiss on top of the bruises.

“My, my~ what a handsome knight” you giggled alongside him.

-–—•

Yuji Itadori - now 85, worn down by a lifetime of battles no one else could see; finally makes his way home after days of absence. His steps are slow, heavy, each one dragging against the wooden floor as if even gravity has grown tired of him. Outside, beneath the fading glow of a quiet sunset, you sit waiting in the engawa of your old Japanese house, the world bathed in amber stillness.

This isn’t new. His disappearances never were.

He doesn’t speak when he reaches you. Not a word was said. No smiles, no jokes - though you two hadn’t shared a laughter since you took off your Jujutsu uniforms. The silence stretches between you, thick and unspoken - then you saw it once again. The unmistakable shadow of death etched into his face, something deeper than exhaustion.

You don’t ask questions. Only because you know he wouldn’t answer.

Instead, with a quiet familiarity, you reach up and tug his hoodie down, guiding him gently closer. Your hand finds his soft, pink hair, just as it always had.

“I’ve missed your touch” he muttered, voice low and frayed, as he folded into your legs - seeking something he had no right to ask for anymore. Your fingers immediately tangled into his hair, gripping tighter than comfort ever required, keeping him there.

“Gosh, how I hate you,” you spat, the words sharp, venomous - yet your hand never loosened. “You only come back when you miss me.” He let out a hollow breath against you, something between a laugh and surrender. Like he’d expected nothing less.

“I know” he murmured. No excuses. No apologies. You’d never let yourself be treated like this.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself…when you’re not looking at him. Because the moment your eyes find him, all that certainty thins out, frays at the edges. Your gaze lingers despite yourself, tracing the line of his shoulders - broad now, solid in a way that feels almost unfamiliar. Even under that worn, baggy hoodie, you can see it; the quiet strength in the way it hangs off him, the shape of someone who’s carried far too much for far too long. The visible muscles on his chest that poke out from his opened jacket. 

Gosh… he’s gotten big.

Taller than you remember. Larger in every sense. Like somewhere along the way, he kept growing while you stayed rooted in the version of him you first knew.

Your sixteen-year-old self would’ve never imagined this - never pictured him like this. Not someone who leaves without warning. Not someone who comes back like nothing ever broke in between. Not someone you’d still let this close despite everything, unfortunately your self respect jumps out the window when he walks in. Your fingers twitch in his hair before you realize it, your grip still there, still holding him in place like you’re afraid of what happens if you let go. You hate that part the most. You know he knows.

He knows you’d never let anyone else get this close after treating you like this. Knows the version of you that swears you deserve better only exists when he’s gone. Knows exactly how your body crumbles the second he’s within reach.

He uses it to every extent.

You feel it in the way he doesn’t pull away - how he settles deeper instead, like he belongs there despite everything. Like your anger is just another thing he can lean into. His hand comes up, slow, certain when you don’t stop him, - you never do. Fingers curling into your sleeve, anchoring himself closer to you. He does that stupid thing with his eyes that make him look like he is yearning, apologetic. A look 16 year old Yuji would’ve given and meant. 

“You always say that” he murmurs, voice quiet, eye contact while still kneeling in front of you; but there’s something heavier underneath it now. Not guilt - never guilt. Something closer to knowing he’s already won. Your grip tightens in his hair, nails just barely pressing into his scalp. It should hurt. Maybe it does. He doesn’t react, he wouldn’t react. He is the strongest of today after all…

“I hate you Yuji Itadori” you repeat, but it sounds weaker this time, like the words are losing their shape the longer he stays. A pause. He brings himself closer to your face, exhales against you, cocky grin appearing on his mouth.

“But you don’t let go…” and that’s the worst part, because he’s right. He knows you won’t and deep down, he knows he doesn’t have to be better - not when you keep choosing him like this.

-–—•

Where reader gives birth (you don’t have too if u don’t feel like it🥲)

HEADCANONS - FireLord Zuko becomes a dad

-–—•

New father Zuko; Who when the moment everything settles, Zuko is right there beside you. Doesn’t leave - not for the court, not for anything. His hand is always on you somewhere: your arm, your shoulder, your hand, just… there. Keeps asking softly, “Are you okay?” like he needs to hear it.

New father Zuko; Notices everything - if you shift uncomfortably, if your voice sounds tired, if you wince even slightly. Adjusts pillows, blankets, your position - sometimes before you even ask. Brings you water constantly. If a healer says you need something, he memorizes it immediately.

New father Zuko; When he first holds the baby, Zuko just… freezes. Not out of fear - but awe. Like he’s holding something impossibly fragile and important all at once. His voice drops to almost a whisper when he speaks, like anything louder might disturb the moment.

New father Zuko; Who makes the room very controlled. Only people he trusts are allowed near you and the newborn. If anyone stresses you out, his tone drops instantly - deepen and warningly: “That’s enough.” He’s not harsh… but he’s not letting anything disturb your recovery.

New father Zuko; Who speaks softer than usual, like his voice alone should be comforting. Helps you sit up, stand, or move around carefully - always asking permission first. His hands are warm, steady, never rushing you. “Slowly, I’ve got you.”

New father Zuko; If you’re awake, he’s awake. No matter what important duty he has waiting him the next day. Sits beside you in the dark quiet, one hand in yours, the other occasionally brushing your hair back. If you’re overwhelmed or emotional, he doesn’t try to fix it - but calm you by placing you onto his lap holding your head near his chest.

New father Zuko; Who is constantly checking if the baby is warm enough, safe enough, breathing okay. Lowkey does rounds at night just to make sure everything is fine. Positions himself between the baby and literally anything that could be a threat (real or imagined). Trust doesn’t come easily - but once he decides someone is safe, he relaxes slightly

New father Zuko; Who rocks the baby in his arms late at night, pacing slowly across the room. Talks to them in a low, steady voice about random things - his day, the palace, even his worries.

New father Zuko; Who completely melts when the baby grabbing his finger. You walk in and find him just… staring at them with the softest expression.

New father Zuko; Who’d bring the newborn and show all the major places in the palace that took place into making him the FireLord. “Look child, this is where I betrayed my father”-

New father Zuko; Who is hesitant when you ask for second child. Of course he has no issues with making the child - just the whole sibling relationship thing he worries most about.

New father Zuko; Who at first, he’s hesitant to firebend anywhere near the baby. Afraid of losing control - even though he’s mastered it. You had to have many conversations with him to get him back on track. Eventually, he shows them the smallest, gentlest flame - controlled, warm, safe. It becomes something symbolic: his fire will protect, not harm. unlike his father’s flames

New father Zuko; Who became a little too attached and now he is sleep deprived. Dark circles, slightly messy hair, but still insists on attending council meetings. Might accidentally show up with soot on his sleeve or a blanket draped over his shoulder. If anyone comments, his tone goes very calm and firm: “I’m fine.” he is not fine

New father Zuko; Who insists on interrupting nap time just so he could play with them. Completely undone the moment they wake up and stretch their tiny body. Doesn’t even try to hide it - he lights up. Immediately wants to show you, like: “Did you see that? Did you hear that laughter” That moment stays with him forever

New father Zuko; Who whenever he sits in silence holding his child into his arms, remembers the way his family was to him. “That won’t happen again, I swear an oath to you my child.” Whispers things they won’t understand yet: “I’ll keep you safe.” “You’ll never have to earn my love.” It’s not dramatic - just fear of repeating the history that sits on shelf.

-–—•

Zuko wandering through a quiet market in disguise, hood pulled low, just trying to enjoy a rare moment of normalcy.

He pauses at a small herbal stall - nothing unusual. Just bundles of dried leaves, soft scents drifting through the air. The vendor starts talking, enthusiastic, recommending blends for stress, for sleep… for connection. Zuko, already half-distracted, hears “calming,” “good for the mind,” “shared experience” - and that’s enough for him.

He buys it without thinking much of it.

-–—• Later, back in the palace;

The two of you sit together, cups warm in your hands, the faint aroma curling between you. It’s peaceful. Quiet. Exactly what he’d hoped for.

At first, nothing seems different.

Zuko relaxes a little more than usual, shoulders easing, voice softer. His hand finds yours like it always does, thumb tracing slow, absent patterns.

But then… He starts looking at you more. Not just glancing - looking. Like he’s noticing every small detail all over again. Studying.

“…You look nice tonight” he says, a bit more openly than he usually would.

You blink. “Thank you?” You noticed his gaze and returned it “Don’t I always look nice lord Zuko?”

“Of course!” he replies immediately - too quickly, almost flustered. “I just-“ He stops, brows furrowing slightly. “I mean it more right now.”

That’s when you start to suspect something. Your eyes left his gaze to wonder around the table in front of you. Some biscuits and the cup of Zuko’s tea empty - yours, half empty. You made the mistake of adjusting yourself by standing a little. His hand tightens around yours unconsciously, like letting go isn’t an option.

“Stay” he murmurs, even though you weren’t going anywhere.

“I wasn’t- oh” you felt the kisses on your neck. You didn’t dare to stop him - in fact, you were pushing his head towards your sweet spot.

Eventually, the realization hits. Maybe it’s the way he leans in without hesitation - or how unusually sweaty he’s being without hardly moving a muscle. Perhaps it’s the label you finally notice on the leftover tea packaging.

Couples Herbal Infusion — Encourages emotional openness and bonding.

“…Zuko.” You look back at him. He lays you on your back to get a better access to your neck. He hums softly, still close, still making out with your neck leaving his marks visible everywhere. Clearly not connecting the dots or questioning the heavy breathes he is breathing.

“My love, do you know what you brought?” Cue confusion. Slight embarrassment and Zuko going very, very still as it clicks. Not removing his head from your collarbones to break the long saliva connecting from his mouth to your skin. 

“…Oh.” A pause. “Oh.” His ears redden almost immediately.

“I didn’t know,” he says quickly, pulling back just enough to look at you - half-apologetic, half-couldn’t care less. “They said it was calming.” You try not to laugh. He notices.

“…Don’t.” That only makes it worse. “Why isn’t it getting a reaction out of you?” He begins stripping your ropes off - leaving your skin bare for him to attack.

“I had only three sips” That’s what does it.

Zuko stills, moving back to meet you. Eyes flicking from your face to the tea on the table you both lay in front - something quietly calculating settling behind his expression.

“Only three?” he repeats. Almost offended. You nod, unaware of where his mind just went. A brief pause. He raises himself just enough to reach your cup.

“Zuko?”

“If it’s affecting me more…” he mutters, almost to himself, “then it’s not equal.” You blink in utter confusion. He takes a sip of the tea but he doesn’t sallow - instead, his eyes met yours again. You swore you saw him have a smirk before coming in to force a kiss from you. Zuko transfers the tea into your mouth - not allowing you to move. Just in case you wanted to spit it out.

“Sallow” he ordered. There’s no teasing in his voice - just quiet intensity he carries into everything, hardened by the warmth still lingering from the tea. Due to his grip on top of you, holding you down with his body weight. You had no choice but to sallow - if it wasn’t for that, you would’ve teased him just a little longer. Zuko watches the entire time.

“You said it encourages the same reaction” he adds, a little more carefully now, like he’s piecing logic together as he goes. Lowering his head in between your chest. You were enjoying this far more than you dared to admit - he was acting like an animal in heat still trying to hold whatever composure, sanity in had left in him. 

Your fingers brush lightly through his hair, slow and that small gesture seems to undo him just a little more. His breath catches, shoulders easing as he leans into the touch instinctively.

“This tea was a mistake” he mutters, though he makes no move to pull away. Before you can answer - a sharp knock breaks through the moment. Both of you freeze.

“My lord,” a guard’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “There is an urgent matter that requires your attention.”

The words hang in the air like a cold splash of water. Zuko exhales slowly, the sound quiet but strained, like he’s being dragged back into reality too quickly. For a second, he doesn’t move at all - still close, still holding onto you. Then, reluctantly, he lifts his head.

“…Of course there is,” he mutters under his breath, resuming back to leaving bite marks just on top of your chest. “Ignore him”

“Zuko” you cupped his face - pulling it back to yours “imagine how much more fun it’ll be when we let the tea linger a little longer” 

“My lord, are you there?” The guard questioned. You licked his lips before answering that ‘he’ll be there in a minute’ - a little cherry on top. His body not moving from on yours for just a moment longer before he straightens, composure snapping back into place piece by piece - shoulders squaring, expression settling, FireLord once more.

“I won’t let that slide a second time woman,” he says, lower now, meant only for you. You quickly adjusted, picking yourself up from the ground having a teasing smile on your face.

“Don’t go anywhere” As if you would. He steps away, heading for the door, there’s a faint flush still lingering on his face - and just before he leaves, he glances back at you.

“By the time I arrive, that tea better be finished my dear”

Oh!

-–—•

HEADCANONS - Father to be FireLord Zuko

-–—•

Father to be Zuko; who walks just a little slower so she doesn’t have to keep up.

Father to be Zuko; who keeps a subtle eye on everything around her, like he’s constantly making sure she’s comfortable and safe.

Father to be Zuko; who catches himself staring at her stomach even before there’s a bump, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

Father to be Zuko; who starts talking to her belly way earlier than expected.

Father to be Zuko; who begins to look at her differently - not distant, just… in awe, she’s doing something incredible. She’s carrying life inside of her, and not just any life. The life of his first born.

Father to be Zuko; who brings her pillows, adjusts blankets, makes sure she’s perfectly comfortable before stepping away.

Father to be Zuko; who makes sure the entire palace is filled with guards. Protected at all costs.

Father to be Zuko; who drops everything to get what she’s craving - even if it’s oddly specific at an inconvenient time.

Father to be Zuko; who makes sure HE is the one who PERSONALLY gets what his pregnant wife craves. Not asking any servant or guard to grab it.

Father to be Zuko; who comes back slightly out of breath but proud, like he’s just completed a mission. if she changes her mind halfway through eating it, he just laughs and eats the rest.

Father to be Zuko; who holds her hair back without hesitation through morning sickness. Rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. Doesn’t make a big deal out of it - just quietly supports her, murmuring soft reassurances. Cup filled with water on the side ready to be drunk by his wife.

Father to be Zuko; who dies just a little inside when he has been summoned to an Gaang mission. His wife reassuring him that she’ll be ‘just fine’ since he has brought in twice as much guards and midwifes. “Take care of her for me, yeah?” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the small bump.

Father to be Zuko; who begs Katara for check ups at least once a week.

Father to be Zuko; who completely freezes when he feels the kicking for the first time. Then breaks into the softest, most stunned smile. Looks at her like ‘did that really just happen?’ before laughing quietly, a little emotional.

Father to be Zuko; who was shocked finding out that there can’t be any physical intimacy between the two of you for 9 whole months.

Father to be Zuko; who swore an oath to himself he’ll follow every rule and wait patiently for 9 months - only for his very pregnant wife to walk in and force him to hold every urge within. “Why’d you get more beautiful carrying my child?!” His wife could see him physically shake as she bites back her laughter.

Father to be Zuko; who stays up watching her sleep, hand in her hair - letting his thoughts roam around. Fear of turning into his father. Fear of having a second born who’ll fight for the heir. Fear of repeating history.

Father to be Zuko; who swears he’ll never be anything like his father nor his mother. Someone he wanted to have as a parent - with a mixture of his uncle.

-–—•

A man who yearns is a man who earns

-–—•

Aang could hardly believe he was finally home. Being the Avatar was never easy - every step carried responsibility, every decision weight the responsibility of the world. Tonight had been no different.

The sky was quiet now, the stars scattered like distant lanterns, and the world felt still. It was far past bedtime. Aang guided himself down onto the familiar balcony, the gentle air bending beneath his feet like it knew the way just as well as he did. For once, there were no expectations waiting on the other side. Just you on the bed you two shared.

Just peace. Just love.

“Aang? Is that you?” you murmur, eyes fluttering open as the soft candlelight catches his figure.

He pauses, a small, apologetic smile forming as he steps inside. “Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, love” he says gently, slipping off the outer layers of his monk robes, setting them aside with quiet care. You sit up slightly, watching him, the exhaustion in his movements impossible to miss.

“You’re back” you whisper, softer now - relieved he isn’t harmed. He glances at you, something warm flickering in his eyes despite the long day. “I’ll always be back to you”

You lift your arms toward him which he doesn’t hesitate to take. In an instant, he’s there curling into you like it’s the only place he truly belongs.

“I’ve missed you” he murmurs, his voice soft and muffled as he hides his face in between your chest, the words barely audible. Your arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him close, fingers brushing gently on his masculine back. You can feel the exhaustion in the way he clings to you, the way he melts into your warmth. He lifts his head just enough to meet your lips, the kiss soft at first, gentle, as if a reminder to himself you really exist.

His hands move smoothly, settling at your waist then your arms. There’s nothing hurried about it, just quiet closeness and a need to be near you. You smile against his lips, letting your hands come up to cradle his face, slowing him just a little.

“Wh-why stop?” He looked at you with his big soft eyes knitting at each other

“Aang you’re exhausted”- He shook his head quickly, cutting you off before you could finish your thought.

“Nonsense!” he said, offended by the idea. “I’m never exhausted when it comes to you.” His voice softened at the end, losing its earlier confidence as he brought his face a closer to yours. His eyes searched yours, earnest.

“Please… let me kiss you” It almost sounded like a plea. “please”

Your breath caught, surprise flickering across your face as your eyes widened, caught completely off guard by how sincere he sounded.

The desperation in his eyes was almost unfair - like something crafted specifically to break your resolve. Like you’d ever say no to a face like that. You didn’t even let him finish looking at you like that for another second. You kissed him!

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t careful. It was immediate; like you’d been holding back longer than you cared to admit, and the second he asked, something in you just gave in. For a split second he froze, like he couldn’t quite believe you’d actually done it. Then he melted into it completely.

“Don’t ever separate me from your touch” he moaned against your lips, words slipping out in fragments between each kiss. “please~ ngh please~”

His hands wondered around your upper body then, slowly, they found their place; settling at your waist, pulling you just a closer as if distance itself had become unbearable. All while pressing his entire body weight onto yours.

Every pause between breaths only made him chase you again, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing even a second of this. You didn’t pull away, not even a little.

-–—•

-–—•

After yet another endless council meeting with the Fire Nation’s higher ups, Zuko felt completely drained, like even lifting a finger would take more strength than he had left.

He opened his chambers’ doors only to spot you there calmly reading a book, he smelt the jasmine tea that filled the rooms air.

“My love” he sighs, the tension finally slipping from his shoulders as he crosses the room. He lowers himself beside you, careful and unguarded in a way he rarely allows. “You seem so at peace” he murmurs, watching you as if the quiet around you might somehow steady the storm still lingering in him.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips, watching your king so utterly undone. Gently, you shift and pat your lap in a silent invitation. When he settles on top of your lap, you cradle his head with care, your fingers brushing softly along the edges of his scar - tender, unhurried, as if you could soothe years of hurt with a single touch.

Which to his felt of your touch, you really could undo all the years of hurt.

“Shall I ask the maids to prepare you a warm bath, my lord?” you ask softly, your fingers drifting through his long, silky hair. Combing through it with gentle care as he rests against you.

“No-no…just- let’s stay like this a little longer,” he murmurs, the urgency fading into something softer. His eyes slip closed, lashes resting against his cheeks. “Please”

You don’t answer with words. Your fingers continue their slow, gentle rhythm through his hair, the rise and fall of his breathing steadying beneath your touch. In the quiet, the weight he carries seems to ease, even if only for a moment, as he lets himself rest against you.

“Also don’t call me ‘my lord’” he continued to murmur, eyes still closed, though you can see the faint edge of a pout on his mouth. “You silly turtleduck - I’m your husband”

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it, quiet enough not to disturb him. You shift just slightly, steadying him so he doesn’t slip from your lap, your hands returning to his hair with the same gentle rhythm.

“Of course,” you whisper, teasing in your voice “my beloved husband”

He cracks one eye open, a flicker of pure disappointment crossing his face - only to catch you biting back laughter.

“Woman, you drive me crazy” he mutters, though a quiet laugh escapes him anyway, soft and unguarded.

He lets his eye fall shut again, the corner of his lips still curved, as if your laughter is something he’s decided he doesn’t mind after all as it warms his heart.

“Now how about you ask the maids to prepare a bath for two?” he asks, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as your fingers continue to lazily trace through his hair.

“Two?” you echo, brows knitting in confusion “Zuko, I bathed this morning.”

He lets out a quiet hum, eyes still closed, clearly unbothered. “And?” he replies softly, tilting his head just enough to look up at you. “I didn’t say it was about being clean.”

Your cheeks warm at the implication, and you gently nudge his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice as he settles back into your lap, “you married me.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself, your fingers resuming their slow, soothing rhythm through his hair.