2004:desecration

your eyes landed on him briefly as you wrapped your body around the pole, hands stretched out in the air, the sheer veil mask covering half of your face.

satoru inhaled sharply, biting the inside of his cheeks and slightly adjusting his tightening pants as he watched you effortlessly twirl around that shiny metal bar.

his current problem? also you.

the one he’d been tipping generously for months after every performance on the main stage, followed by a 10 mins lap dance— and maybe, on some (most) nights where he doesn’t feel like sharing you— private bookings. maybe an hour or two.

every… other week. or night.

what goes on in that luxurious four walled room was for him to relinquish every night in his own bedroom as he stroked his throbbing cock slowly at first, thinking of how you bent over before him, your ass jiggling as you moved your hips in a circular motion.

how your fingertips felt on his face tracing his jawline and stubble, then the curve of his lips during hazy nights, from his philtrum down to his lower lip.

how your breasts felt beneath his palm, soft and perfect as he kneaded carefully, pinching the stiff peaks as he mapped the shape and feel of it under his calloused hands, sometimes with his mouth, sucking, kissing— with your bra covering his eyes.

he often came undone gasping your name—your performer name—shaking and trembling as he imagined it was you instead pumping his length, your thumb smearing over his tip, looking up at him with those fucking eyes that he has memorized at this point.

now he’s here, sitting, watching you closely under the dim strobe of led lights, his heart sinking to the pits of his stomach and up to his throat as he pieced things together.

the woman who has captured his attention, his heart, and his dick apparently— might actually be his student.

his fucking student.

he sighed as he ordered a tequila on the digital pad on their table just to chase away that gnawing desire and nauseating coil at the pits of his stomach and groin.

he fiddled with his lower lip as he watched the customers leave tips and cash the corner of the stage you’re performing on.

suguru was nowhere to be seen, while shoko walked over to their booth and flopped next to him on the couch, holding a whiskey when a woman wearing a purple string lingerie offered a lap dance with a smile.

“i’m good, thanks.” satoru politely shook his head, while shoko whipped out a handful of fresh of bills from her wallet and handed it to the woman.

“i’d appreciate it,” she flashed a subtle grin as she sat up straighter.

“you look miserable. what’s up with you?” shoko sipped her whiskey, glancing at the narrow-eyed satoru as he examined you intently.

he’s double checking if you— his favorite performer—really are his student, cross referencing in his mind everything he’d gotten to know about you behind close doors of the private bookings; and the one who submitted case digests about labor management, position papers, and recited (seldomly) in his class.

“nothing just… thinking about something.”

the music blasted around the surround speakers, indulgent and addictive as the cold breeze of the AC mixed with it—air charged as he recalled the moments with you.

for months, he’d gotten to know your eyes too damn well— the flecks of it and shape of it. under the hazy lights and darkened rooms, he had it mapped in his mind—how it’d crinkle at the corners when you smile at him beneath the veil mask. how it lights up—even momentarily— when he walks up to the stage to tip you after performance and to strike small talks.

how it widened the first time you saw him sitting at the far end of the room, watching you— or when he first tipped you a hundred bucks the first time, blinking at him confusedly for a moment before accepting it with a gradual smile.

it hit him that those eyes that looked up at him with much much familiarity from the first time might be out of recognition.

“don’t do that. thinking. i’m not used to it,” shoko clicked tongue, teasing.

he shook his head with an amused scoff as he pinched grain of salt and placed it on the back of his hand, downing the tequila shot with a grimace followed by a sharp taste of lemon hitting his tongue as he sucked on it to cut back the bitter bite of alcohol that scraped down on his throat.

the thing is, he loved your company. you had a great humor and was quick-witted with all the banters you two shared. effortlessly cool who held much mystery from all the information you withheld about yourself.

of course he asked about your background and matter of fact he just realized it now— how good you evade and answer around his questions, even the ones he tailored carefully.

he’s not a lawyer for no reason at all. during board games with him inside the luxurious room he booked for the two of you, nights where you wore his hoodies that he lent you, he’d gotten to know your hobbies, interests, and how your brain functions.

he memorized your perfume and scent and how your warm body felt next to his when you let him sit next to you with his arms around your shoulders, absentmindedly playing with your hair. on how sometimes you’d let him rest and nuzzle the crook of your neck as he traced ghosting pecks of kisses there until your breathing synced together.

your eyes haunted him every night. there’s no getting away from it.

he’d recognize it anywhere.

everywhere.

although he really didn’t expect it to be inside the bright lecture halls, nor in broad campus daylight, up close— when you submitted a case study.

and to his horror? he recognized your eyes first then your voice.

“i think she might be my student,” he breathed after the dancer left them with a smile and a wink to his friend sitting next to him comfortably.

he looked at shoko who whipped her head towards him in an instant, her mouth hanging open for a moment as she processed what he said when suguru sat down next to shoko, yawning.

“what are you guys talking about?”

“somebody’s about to lose their license,” shoko laughed as she threw her head back to the couch.

“what? what do you mean-“

“satoru’s her regular,” shoko nodded at your direction, performance almost ending as you spun on that pole followed by a smooth split landing on the floor.

“and apparently,” shoko wiped her eyes as she downed her remaining whiskey. “she’s his student,”

“the fuck dude?” suguru gaped at him.

“don’t look at me like that—acting like you didn’t book her too. she might also be in your class, dumbass.” satoru groaned.

“in my defense, it was only once and i didn’t know ! also, you paid for it—“ suguru shook his head, thinking to himself.

“you two are dumb as fuck. how could you not recognize your own student?” shoko chuckled, standing up.

“anyway, i’m going home, i still have microsurgery tomorrow.”

“i’m coming with you.” suguru stood up quickly after her, pausing briefly to look back at satoru as he grabbed his coat, quietly asking if he’s coming with them.

“you guys go ahead, i’ll…” he trailed off as he saw you walk down the stage, eyes on him for a moment before a guy approached you slipping crisp bills in your garter straps.

he clenched his jaw when he felt that bitter surge of irritation in his chest as he glanced at suguru who followed his gaze with a sigh.

“get your shit together, man. you wouldn’t wanna lose your license would you?” he smacked satoru’s chest affirmatively before jogging after shoko.

he’s in deep.

he stared at you once again, his elbows on his knees as he mulled over things. the club’s manager was talking to you, glancing over in his direction as she tucked a hair behind your ear and adjusted your face veil.

you nodded as you looked at satoru after the manager walked away.

he straightened up, his heart hammering as you walked closer to his booth, magnetized by how your hips swayed each step you took closer to him.

you look stunning. definitely not good for his heart.

(and his fucking pants.)

he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket without breaking the eye contact and pulled out couple of crisp bills and folded it as he handed it to you, clearing his throat, cataloguing that practiced curve of smile on your eyes once you sat next to him.

“thanks. lap dance?” your voice echoed in his system. soft and full. who is he to say no to you, really.

he took in every detail of you next to him— you had bags beneath your eyes. you looked exhausted.

he squinted his eyes. huh. after a moment, he nodded.

“thought you wouldn’t drop by tonight.” you said as you started your dance, body rolling on him languidly in your 8” heels.

“why’s that?” he signaled to a server to bring two drinks on his booth as he took in the detail of how you bent down, your hands’ warmth seeping beneath the fabric of his pants, when an idea lit up in his mind.

perhaps a playful interrogation over jenga. or chess—to catch you with you and your words.

after all— you’ve known him for months. as a stern and perhaps a stuck-up annoying professor and your loyal customer.

now how unfair is that, no?

he hoped it was him bugging you and keeping you up every night the same way you did to him unknowingly all these past few months.

whether its because of him as satoru, the man he just is behind closed doors with you that spent hundreds and thousands just to enjoy your company, or as your professor who just dropped tons of readings earlier— as long as its him occupying your probably now-frayed mind, he’s fine with it.

“nothing, just-“

“actually,” he drawled, licking his lips as he admired you up close. “do you wanna go upstairs? the usual?” he smiled, carefully watching your reaction.

you momentarily stopped as you straddled him, his hands resting gently on your hips, tracing ghostly patterns over the laced fabric that made your stomach coil in that familiar way.

you knew something’s up — he could clearly see that behind the slight hesitation behind your eyes, the soft movement of veil from your shallow breaths. he chuckled as he held your gaze.

“got something to tell me?” you tilted your head at him.

“i don’t know. do you?” he smirked as you led him inside the elevator, brows creased as challenge and curiosity radiated off of you.

he’ll keep suguru’s advice, sure.

but he’ll do it his way. time to see how long could you keep this farce up. he’d come to a realization way too late, but fuck. better late than never, right?

game on.

yna’s note 𓍼ོ hi. i researched how strip clubs work, duration of lap dances, and culture >< idk if i did it justice at all but i tried :) i have so much respect and MUCH admiration to all the midnight ballerinas out there. u guys are the fucking coolest. pls teach me how to do an aerial fankick 🥹 anw if there are any inaccuracies… close your eyes and pretend its there bcs its company policy. enjoy ! xx

10:30am, you manage to "crawl-surf" to the bathroom.

naturally, you reach for the faucet - it’s not there.

you blink, and the faucet is on the ceiling. water flowing upward into the pipes - you look in the mirror;

he’s standing behind you in the reflection, holding a toothbrush and looking incredibly "helpful," "innocent," waiting for you to snap - you don't.

you use bottled water instead, winning the second battle of this "silent treatment war". 1-1.

by midday, he realizes you’re more stubborn than a cursed spirit, so he goes full on nuisance mode. (special grade sorcerer edition).

you open your closet to get dressed; every single item of clothing, every shirt, every sock - is vibrating. if you touch a sleeve, it teleports to the other side of the room.

you are effectively locked out of your own wardrobe by a space-time anomaly.

you go to make tea to calm your nerves, thinking 'if you can't fight it, then adapt to it.'

the kettle is suddenly encased in a "red" orb that repels your hand every time you get within six inches.

the final straw for you was when you tried to leave the apartment to get some space;

you open the front door and walk out, only to find yourself stepping right back into your own living room.

confused, you try again. door → living room. door -> living room, an infinite loop. he’s turned your hallway into a localized version of the prison realm.

you stand in the middle of the room, hands on your hips, fuming.

satoru is now sitting on the couch comfortably, dramatically sighing and checking his watch as if he's the one being inconvenienced with this whole thing.

you take a deep breath. you tried - you really did.

"satoru," you growl, finally looking at him.

"oh! someone spoke!" he teleports directly into your personal space, his blindfold pushed up so his blue eyes are practically glowing with "i won" energy.

"was that the wind? or was that my favorite person finally realizing that they need a certain handsome sorcerer to fix the literal glitch in their reality?"

"fix the door," you snap, trying to hide the twitch of a smile. "the tea, and the floor. you’re such a fucking brat."

"i'm your brat," he chirps, snapping his fingers.

suddenly, the world stops vibrating and gravity returns to normal.

he leans down with no shame resting his chin on your head. "apology accepted! let’s go get lunch. i’m paying - mostly because you can't reach your wallet since i put it on the moon."

"you did.. what?"

"kidding! it’s in my pocket - come on."

it's on the moon. 1-100.

"What's happening?" You huffed at him, attempting to reclaim a fraction of your dignity despite him seeing you in far worse states than this before. He'd held you when you were disheveled, thighs pinned to your chest as he prepared you for things you were supposed to do with your future husband one day. With sweat sticking to your forehead and your body shaking, face scrunched up with pure pleasure from his nimble fingers and tongues. He didn't even react at your obvious worry, watching you swallow hard as the panic still freely pounded in your chest, holding onto his strong forearm to steady yourself. "Where are we?"

He smiled at you, letting go of your side to caress your cheek, your heart stupidly fluttering at the gesture you both knew he shouldn't be doing. Not when he was meant to stand guard for you.

You were his duty. His life.

He was only ever supposed to be a supporting role in yours.

"Somewhere safe."

“Safe?” You echoed, blinking up at him without understanding.

“I brought your favorite books,” he murmured, softly stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “And more of those paints I got you last year for your birthday.”

“But why are we-”

“Your parents were about to sell you off to a brute,” he grimaced, even when he was speaking to you so tenderly. Dark eyes hardening as they narrowed just enough to let you know he was serious.

"He wasn't-" You started to protest, thinking back to the single time you'd actually seen him at a banquet a handful of months ago. Sure, you hadn't spoken directly to you, not when you were so closely supervised, but you watched him from across the room.

There were men far worse than that.

“He would have just used you for heirs while he slept with half his court,” he dismissively scoffed.

But, wasn’t that you were meant for?

A pretty tool to be purchased as a means for peace between kingdoms?

You always knew it would happen to you. The arranged marriage, having heirs, living in a foreign place with no friends.

All your manners classes, the rigid rules you'd spent your life learning, they were all leading up to this.

You were born to be a queen.

"I can't just run from my duty," you murmured, reaching back up to drag your thumb over his defined jaw, attempting to soften the blow of disappointment. He must've spent a long time preparing this place for you, ready to commit treason just to do what he thought was best.

Forever your knight, always thinking of you when you both knew that the feelings you harbored for each other would never amount to more than the handful of nights you'd stolen together.

"And you can't expect me not to do mine."

Your mouth hung open, not sure what to do with his defiance. Just staring at his unchanging expression, resolve etched into every strong line of his face while your hand fell from it.

“This is for your own good,” he promised, leaning close enough to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead. “You’ll see.”

You hadn't seen three months in.

He wouldn't let you leave.

Refused to budge even when you begged with your best set of puppy dog eyes as you asked about how your family was doing, if you'd been declared missing, what was happening back at home.

His jaw would always clench, dark eyes swirling as he cupped your face and told you that you worried too much.

Solemnly swore your parents weren't even looking for their missing princess.

No, apparently, they'd just sent someone who looked enough like you to not arouse suspicion to the prince you were meant to marry.

Suguru dried your tears with kisses, dragging his tongue over the damp spots they left, his honeyed voice reassuring you that no one could replace you to him.

An imposter was out there in your place, pretending to be you, and you were in a tower trying to find the positive in this...monotony.

It wasn't like it was so terrible being trapped here with him.

Homemade meals. No more awful meetings or balls you were forced to attend. Nights spent in the warmth of Suguru's body with no fear of getting caught and condemned for what your heart wanted.

The days drifted by lazily. Napping in your bed. Reading the books he brought you. Painting by the small window.

Pacing your floor when the minutes started to drag, counting how many steps it took to get from one side of the room to the other. You even started to teach yourself how to sew, although you had to practically plead with Suguru to bring you the supplies for them.

The tower itself was cramped. Your room led directly out to a spiraling staircase, with uneven stone steps and a nauseating drop down the middle. The steps widened as you went down, but you'd barely been able to bring yourself to make it further than Suguru's living space below yours.

It was bigger than yours, but more...quaint, you supposed?

Rickety wooden furniture. A thin blanket over his bed. A single table with two chairs for you to eat with him.

He knew you hated heights.

So Suguru usually ended up coming to you instead.

A picnic blanket spread on your floor. Flowers freshly plucked from the forest below. A candle lit like it made this romantic.

And despite your determination to convince him that you could both still return to the palace, or even start a new life in a quiet port town somewhere, you were the one starting to crumble under his coaxing.

What was so great about your old life anyway?

No one could make you do anything up here. For the first time, your life was now yours.

It took you another year to realize your life was actually his.

Well, considering you lost track of time, you could only guess it had been a year. Watching the seasons come and go, leaves falling off the trees and snow capping the branches until the weather warmed again.

There was only so much painting to pass the time you could do before everything became boring.

Staring out the window waiting for something to happen, Suguru's hand on the small of your back while he delicately brushed your hair off your shoulder.

There weren't any scissors for you to trim it with. Not a single sharp item left anywhere within reach. He refused to entertain the idea of chopping some of it off either, insisting on taking care of it himself, toying and twirling the ridiculously long strands down as they cascaded over your worn dress.

It had always been long, but whatever was in the food he'd been feeding you had made it grow far faster here, trailing along the floor wherever you walked. He brushed it out for you, washed it and dried it while he made excuse after excuse not to cut it.

"Let down your hair, princess," Suguru called out from below, and for a brief second, you considered telling him that his joke wasn't funny - even though you suspected after another year or two, it might really be long enough to reach the ground. You stared down at him as he shielded his face from the sun, a hand on your hip as your brows scrunched together.

"Come inside," you shouted, struggling not to frown as you watched him walk out of your line of vision, a basket slung over his shoulder, probably with food from the closest town - not that he'd ever let you see it for yourself.

No, he locked your door when he left.

Kissed your forehead and promised to be back as soon as possible whenever he had errands to run.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to make it back up to your door, the keys clinking as he unlocked it from the outside, swinging it open with a loud creak as you refused to look back at him.

"How's my beautiful girl?" He murmured as he approached, lips grazing against the shell of your ear while his hands traced your frame.

"I'm getting sick of being up in here," you half-whispered as you confessed what had been plaguing you for weeks, your voice raw from how little you'd been using it lately. "Can't we go to a village? Just for a day? We could wear disguises or-"

"No," he firmly said, pressing a kiss on your collarbone as you let out an annoyed huff.

"Please, Suguru," you whined. "It's been so long-"

"I'm not taking any risks when it comes to you," he scoffed a little, as if you were asking him for something absurd.

"Didn't you say no one was even looking for me?" You tilted your head to the side, pushing out your bottom lip like it would make his impenetrable resolve finally fracture.

"Anyone who saw your hair-"

"So cut it," you stomped your foot, swallowing hard as your lashes fluttered up at him.

"No," he repeated, refusing to budge.

His fingers were already unlacing the back of your dress, making quick work of loosening it while you struggled to come up with an argument that might sway him just for him to spin you around to face him.

Could you somehow convince him to take you on just a single outing?

Was it truly too much? Were you a moron for wanting more than just this?

Your dress was falling by your feet before you could think of anything - and his mouth was on your throat to make sure you wouldn't be able to.

Kiss after kiss pressed against your skin, lips tantalizingly skimming along the tendon until his teeth were grazing over your jaw. His hands making their way over your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he suddenly hoisted you up.

Carrying you back to your bed, careful not to step on your hair as he continued to pepper you with his gentle affection.

"Did I not make it perfect for you here, princess?" He purred, tenderly placing you back down on the soft mattress, making sure to drape your hair off the side. His own was falling in his face as his mouth slowly traveled down the valley of your breasts, across your belly button and pausing just below it to peek up at you. "I try so hard."

He did, didn't he?

Suguru had risked his head just by bringing you here. Did his best to make sure you weren't wanting for anything - that you wouldn't go without the luxuries you'd be lavished in your entire life.

Couldn't you just be happy for him when he was working so hard for you?

"I know," you muttered softly, guilt creeping in while his soft purple eyes bore into you. "I just-"

"Want to throw away everything I've given you for what? You'd rather hang around some peasants than me?" He grumbled, stare narrowing as he pushed your thighs up against your chest, like he had some point to prove.

"No, that's not-" You started again, but then his fingers slipped inside you, two thick digits digging deeper to stretch you out - and shut you up.

"Not what?" He dryly mocked, cocking his head to the side, well aware you would't be able to answer as he shoved his fingers deeper, dragging them against your walls.

"Don't be mean," you hissed at him, chest constricting as your lungs squeezed in time with your cunt. Unable to breathe when his digits felt like they were forcing all the air out with each consecutive thrust.

"It hurts my feelings when you want to leave me," he said, but his condescending tone didn't exactly lend any credence to what he was saying. Still, your heart stalled anyway, mind instinctively working to win him back.

"I don't want to leave you," you argued. "Just here. For a little bit."

"For a little bit," he sarcastically echoed, an anxious pit opening in the bottom of your stomach as you shook your head.

"Suguru," you whined, wiggling your hips as he drove those digits all the way in, working you open with an almost clinical precision.

"What, angel?" He hm-ed, knowing exactly what you wanted - and pretending he didn't.

You knew you should be mad. Put your foot down and demand that he take you out. But when he was looking at you like this, his fingers dimpling your skin and his mouth pampering you, you couldn't bring yourself to do either.

No matter how much you missed the sun. Smelling fresh flowers in your garden. Talking to a stranger instead of someone you knew every damn detail of.

"Come on, Sugu, would it be so bad?" You tried to charm him, but he just clicked his tongue.

"What do I have to do to keep you happy, hm?" He asked, sapping your strength without even trying. Drawing it out with every fast drag of his fingers. "Fuck you until you forget about these silly ideas?"

He pulled his fingers out, mouth pressed in a thin line just for him to tug his pants down enough to free his cock.

It bounced up against his shirt, pre-cum leaving a stain on it before he wrapped his fist around his thick base.

Watching it bob as he got back on top of you, one hand still pressing your thigh down to keep you open as he nudged his fat tip against your entrance.

His chin tilting up as he started pushing in, his jaw flexing as his shoulders tensed, testing his own self-control with each inch he slid inside of you.

You used to think your knight was an expert at restraining himself.

Back when he'd keep a straight face during banquets despite how often you'd pester him about sneaking away. Composed and collected until he finally got to claim you in private.

And now, he'd stolen you.

Turned your dreamy little secret into a reality that had started to stretch towards a forever.

You were still reaching up for him, tangling your fingers in his dark hair while he reached up to softly stroke the top of yours. The weight of him pressing down as he drove his cock in further, making sure to fill you up until he was fucking every thought that wasn't about him out of that pretty head of yours.

"My princess doesn't know what she needs," he murmured, his voice thick with hunger, all dark and dangerous as he dragged you down with him.

"I need you," you whispered, voice cracking when he abruptly bottomed out, his tip smushed against your cervix as your mouth parted in a broken gasp.

You needed him to let you breathe a little. To understand that you couldn't just spend eternity in this little world he crafted for the two of you.

But none of it actually came out.

Just more messy moans, your fingers clawing at the blankets while he just thrusted into you again and again.

The bed whined under your combined weight, your thighs trembling as his hips smacked down into you. His mouth was colliding into yours, sucking on your bottom lip while he wrecked you without hesitation.

Trying to ruin you.

Rip your heart out to have for himself. Hold it hostage too.

"Maybe I should put a baby in here," he grunted when the kiss broke, his breath warm on your cheek as he gritted his teeth. Stare drifting down to your stomach with a determination you knew you should be scared of. "You wouldn't leave our baby, would you?"

He knew exactly what to say to get to you.

Which strings to pull to turn you into his perfect puppet.

No better than a plaything. A doll to be dressed up in his very own dollhouse.

"I-I-" You stammered, but shit, when he was stuffing you so full, you couldn't find enough sanity left to string coherent words together. Left writhing and whimpering as his cock rocked and rutted into all your favorite spots.

"You what? Want one?" He teased, your heart hammering faster at the idea of actually being pregnant.

Carrying his child while you were still confined to this room.

Would he be so overprotective to confine you to the bed next?

"It's okay if you don't know," he cooed, his soft voice pitching lower while the hand on your thighs slipped down so he could have fun with your clit next.

Massing it with intention, drawing rough circles over the sensitive bud while he clicked his tongue at you again.

"That's why I have to take care of you," he continued, pressing down harder, his cock pistoning back in with more force, making sure you didn't even have the air in your lungs to tell him that you didn't need to depend on him.

You loved Suguru.

But the only way he knew how to love you back was to suffocate you. You knew you were his world. He just had to make sure he was yours.

Perhaps you were a fool for thinking that you'd be able to find a way to express that to him. To change a man who already made up his mind.

"I love you," you started, swallowing hard as you tried to gather your focus enough to get the right words out this time, get him to see your side.

But then his lips were connected with yours, barely parting enough to breathe, "I love you too."

His hips slammed against yours harder, his fingers working faster, your stomach tied together in knots as the pressure pushed you to a precipice you knew you'd fall from.

"C'mon, princess, cum for me," he groaned in between kisses, swallowing your moan as your body unravelled for him in a bright burst of pleasure. Stars you sorely missed splotching across your vision as you scrunched your eyes shut, feeling him buried to the hilt as something warm started to fill you up.

Had he-

"I hope it's a girl," he muttered, half-collapsing on top of you. His forehead pressed against yours as he sucked in heavy breaths, his cock still throbbing as his cum leaked out inside you. "Or twins."

"Twins?" You echoed, dazed as you blinked up at him.

"That should keep us busy," he smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up higher than the other as he refused to pull out. Still lodged deep inside you like he wanted to make sure his seed took.

He readjusted you, pulling your legs down so he could lay on top of you fully, his firm chest pressed against your softer one, his calloused fingers caressing your cheek as he looked at you with that lovestruck stare you'd grown accustomed to.

Had it always looked so sly?

Or were you starting to piece together something you missed once the haze of sex started to dissipate?

"I'll always keep you safe."

As your lover? Your knight? Your warden?

You still weren't sure which when you woke up the next morning. The smell of sex and sweat still sticking to your skin as you rubbed your exhausted eyes and rolled over with sticky thighs.

The left side of bed was empty.

Only a warm spot where Suguru was supposed to be. Had he gone to make breakfast? Perhaps decided to spare you of more discussions of raising children in this lonely room?

You pulled the covers up to your chest as you sat up, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the ghost of your past life in the form of furniture and books you used to enjoy before you read them a hundred times.

A piece of paper was left on the nightstand, a small note you supposed Suguru must've written for you, neat letters informing you that he'd be out for the day and he left meals pre-made for you on a tray outside.

Maybe on a different day, you might've found it sweet.

But an idea sprouted in the back of your head, blooming quickly enough that you were scurrying over to your dresser to find something to throw on, hurrying to get dressed before opening the door to find the tray he mentioned.

Instead of taking a bite, you just brought it inside - and slipped back out.

Bracing yourself for the long walk down, holding your breath as you crept down the stairs, a lump in your throat that seemed to get larger with every step you took.

You refused to look at the bottom.

Slowly making your way, attempting to remind yourself that with each step you took, you were another one closer to a way out.

It wasn't like you wanted to run away.

Not really.

You doubted your family would take kindly to you returning. Especially not if their unwed princess came with the unexpected baggage of a child they'd consider a bastard. With a man of no noble blood or important background.

But you were sure that you'd die if you didn't get some fresh air soon, wither and rot up there in your single-windowed cell.

The end came into sight - the last stair just a few feet away, your feet scampering down as your excitement started to bubble over, your head snapping up to the-

Door?

There was nothing there.

Just stone walls with no way in or out.

Was it magic? Some seal on the outside that stopped anyone else from intruding on something they shouldn't?

You were simply stuck.

And you sincerely doubted any prince would be coming to save you.

a/n: feel kinda meh about how this one turned out but hope you guys enjoyed anyway <3 reblogs + comments always appreciated

He sits up with a groan, rubbing the sleep off his eyes before looking both ways, wondering how to get out of bed without waking the two women up. He may not be that into them, but he wasn’t heartless enough to rip them out of their sleep. Eventually, he throws the sheets back and climbs over Saiyo since she seems to be in a deeper state of sleep, and then quickly covers her again, before stepping into the washroom to ready himself for the day. 

You and Hieto, the head of the Fire Nation’s Health and Wellness Department, were already waiting for him once he stepped inside the carriage. All Zuko offers is a light nod in his sorry state, too groggy to even say a simple good morning. Heito’s a true professional and greets the fire lord goodmorning, and you struggle to not look at him like he’s some diseased creature— which he’ll accept given what happened last night.

The ride to Republic City’s new rehabilitation center is quiet. The last time he was this quiet with you was the very first day you started working directly for him. He had already seen you around the palace grounds, but that was the first time you two had been face to face since you were children, before his father burned him and then banished him from the country. 

You were staring at it— the scar that was left behind. Not in judgement. If anything, it was more from sorrow. Having all of your attention left him feeling more shy than he’d like to admit— afraid to say the wrong thing, which he knows is ridiculous given his place in the hierarchy. 

One can never be too comfortable in his place, though. 

At times you’ll make fun of him for being too traditional, maybe even more traditional than his father in certain aspects, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. With the state his grandfather and father left the nation, there was a lot needed of him in order to appease all the sides that they had split up through years of war and tyranny. The most important being the relationships he kept with seven of the big clans.

It’s been difficult at times in the past, especially with yours, but it was still the easiest way to keep the peace. It was simple— keep a few concubines, pass a few harmless bills, meet people halfway. 

He’s gotten used to his duties over the years, yet he never truly gotten used to you. Or rather, the fact that he can’t have more. Having you as his advisor was the most Zuko was going to get. 

There was one point where he was dumb enough to think it might’ve worked, but now, it’d be a political death sentence if you two had gotten together. Not only did your family hold enough power and influence, but they also refused to align themselves with others— not even with the Fire Lord. It has always left the other clans feeling unsettled. 

For years, your clan has always gone along with the Fire Lord’s wishes— it has nothing to do with loyalty and all to do with the fact that they all just simply do their jobs, which they were scarily good at. Ozai wants war? Sure. Zuko wants peace amongst nations? No problem. 

Usually that’d be seen as a good thing, but given how the army itself has looked up to your grandfather and your father, that was an issue. Nobody would be surprised if half of them were secret loyalists, and that terrified everyone— the thought of your clan branching off one day and successfully staging a coup. 

Zuko choosing to have you as his advisor did absolutely nothing to ease their worries. You may have the same ideals as him, but no one forgot about the incident between you and your father when you turned 18 years old. You were young, ready for some freedom, and filled with rage after learning he signed you up for the military. Nobody forgot about the sheer amount of power they witnessed you exercise against him that day— sending bolts of lightning his way as you chased him down, yelling at him to take your name off of the roster. 

You were going to kill him.

It was just one of the many, many skeletons that are hidden in your family’s closet.

Zuko wasn’t there to witness it, but it didn’t surprise him one bit. The only time you were allowed to interact with kids your age was during school and training, you were never allowed to go outside and play. Of course you snapped the way you did. 

But that’s a story for another time. 

For now, just know the man has no idea what the hell to say to you after last night. Especially not with the expressionless look on your face at the moment, making him wonder if he should just pretend like nothing ever happened, too.  

He didn’t want to. You kissed him back with the same amount of eagerness before pushing him away, after all— he wasn’t going to forget that any time soon. 

. . . . . 

There’s a few rehabilitation centers scattered throughout the city, with each location having its own focus and goal. The one you arrive at is at the edge of the town, closer to the mountains, and can be considered to be a correctional facility. 

To your surprise, the first one to greet the three of you is a very sober Aang. You’d think he’d be a little hungover, but a night out clearly doesn’t stop the Avatar from being a morning person. 

Then there’s Zuko, who needs a fucking nap. You took one look at him in the carriage this morning and knew he didn’t even try. He tied his hair up in a bun and ditched the usual royal get-up for a tunic and training pants. The only thing that hints at him being the Fire Lord is the robe he threw on since it has the imperial symbol on the back, but even then, his demeanor was more of a prince slacking off on his duties. 

Good thing the Avatar was there to remind the entire staff who they were all in the presence of.

“Alright, on your knees everyone!” Aang looks around behind him and shouts, cupping his hands together at his mouth so everyone could hear him loud and clear. “Lord Big Dick has arrived. Mhm, yup— look at him.” 

There’s not a glint of joy in Zuko’s eyes as he walks further inside. It felt less like a government facility and more like a circus with all the clapping Aang is doing. As if he couldn’t be any more peeved at the moment, the employees do end up getting on their knees. 

“Please stop bowing,” he murmurs, feeling his brain start to pound against his skull harder.  

Aang crosses his arms and smiles rather proudly, further agitating the Lord. “Yeah, you see that? Sexy and humble.” 

“I—“ Zuko cuts himself off, then takes a long, deep breath in hopes to ground himself. “Hey, Aang?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

All the Avatar does in return is laugh. Getting on the Lord’s last nerve is fun, especially when you’re one of the very few individuals that can get away with it, but that grumpy Lord is still his friend, which is why he decides to lay off and take it easy on him for the rest of the tour. 

The main difference between this facility and the ones back in the Fire Nation is that this one actually tries to help correct behavior rather than punish it. 

Key word: Try. 

Not everyone wanted to be saved.

What immediately caught your attention was how clean the facility was. It wasn’t some cold, dusty place where people were left to rot. If anything, the natural lightning and addition of indoor plants made it feel more like a nice getaway.

Of course, there were people still in confinement, but you were pleasantly surprised to learn that a majority of the people in the program were free to walk around. They all looked happy to be there, too— whatever they were doing was clearly working.

You and Heito spoke to a handful of the members, all of whom were eager to share their stories and most importantly, proud to talk about how far they’ve come. Most had similar stories of trauma and hardships, with their crimes being a direct result of being forced to suffer through it all alone. 

Some have come to accept it, some have even forgiven themselves— then there was one guy that tried to take his anger out on Zuko. He wasn’t even mad about getting cussed out. His fathers reign of terror wasn’t that long ago— his family probably was the cause of all this poor man’s problem. 

You will never understand how Zuko can stay so calm while having someone practically bark in his face, let alone allow them to. He got a reaction out of him once, and that was when he told him he had a small dick— Zuko laughed, because it’s really fucking not, then apologized. 

The slew off insults ended with the one last final, “Fuck you— Your father ruined so many fuckin’ lives, I hope that evil bastard rots in hell.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zuko responds in a tone that’s way too casual, which throws the man off because he said a lot.

He was expecting him to respond with something more rehearsed. It didn’t even sound like he was trying to relate to the guy, his words just came off more as a parent tired of their child embarrassing them. 

You’d think his father would stop being less of a thorn in his side given how he’s been behind bars for years now, but he still finds ways to inconvenience Zuko. 

Just last week, he had to stand there and listen to another sob story about how he’s getting older and needed to be treated with dignity— his definition of dignity being released and put in a nice home, somewhere far away with lots of servants. His father does it every three moments. It’s the only time he requests to speak with him, actually. 

He usually comes up with a respectful way to turn him down, since he’s the one that wanted to treat that evil piece of shit with dignity in the first place— a big mistake by the way, dignity’s been his favorite fucking word ever since. 

Zuko wasn’t in the mood to fake being nice, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be rude, either. Instead he crouched down, looked him in the eye and made a joke that Ozai did not find funny. 

“How about this,” Zuko began to strike a deal with him, bringing a glint of hope in his old man’s eyes. “I’ll let you out of here when the scar around my eye magically disappears.”

It took a moment for his father to process those words. 

Zuko likes to describe his father as someone that gets deeply offended from the sight of joy— to the point where Ozai actually threatened to kill him once for laughing too hard when he was 7 years old. So, you can only imagine how enraged he was when he realized his son was poking fun at him and at the scar that was supposed to bring him shame. 

‘Worthless, deformed bastard’ was one of the many insults his father threw at him as he walked away, yet the only thing that stuck to him was the grating pitch in Ozai’s voice as continued to have a meltdown. He can just hear his father yelling now, and it’s hurting his fucking teeth. 

The member is still staring at Zuko in disbelief once he snaps out of it. 

“What was your name again?” Zuko asks. 

“…Haru?” 

“That’s easy to remember,” Zuko says to himself, not exactly paying attention to Haru's sudden change in attitude. He never really cared for it to begin with. “If you ever find yourself interested in becoming an imperial guard, I’ll have a spot waiting for you.” 

Haru looks at you and Heito in confusion, making you chime in. “You don’t have to. But, if you do, just know that everyone who works at the palace is well taken care of. Lots of opportunities for advancement, as well. I’m sure you’ll find it very rewarding.”

You couldn’t help but add that last part, knowing Zuko only offered him the job to fuck with Ozai a little. The former tyrant already has three big meals a day, clean clothes, a comfy futon and a couple of board games to keep him entertained, he can handle a little day to day banter.

The visit ends with a small chat with Aang and one of the program directors, Jin, in the courtyard. They were both aware of the rising tension in the Fire Nation, but didn’t know about the brothel incident in the Silk District until you told them— piquing Jin’s interest more than you had expected.

Zuko’s pretty much back to normal too, not that it makes much of a difference. He’s always been more of a listener and would rather let everyone else speak first. 

And when he does finally speak, it’s because you’re asking him a question. 

“What do you think of taking Jin back with us when we leave?” you ask him.

Zuko takes one look at the awkward man and almost rolls his eyes at how flattered he is that you want to take him home like he’s some kind of pet. He doesn’t even bother asking if he’d be okay with being borrowed, he’s clearly begging for it. 

“Yeah,” he nods, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, then turns to Heito. “You already have a location in mind, right?” 

Heito nods. “Yes, Sir.” 

“Alright, cool.”

His tone came out clipped as he side-eyed the director, ready to tell him that he’s standing too close to you and that he is not your fucking type. The only thing that stopped him was Heito, who asked if everyone was ready to go— Zuko’s answer being almost immediate.

“Let’s go.”

. . . 

The next day is spent visiting an orphanage.

At first, it brought that same heavy feeling the correction center brought, maybe even more since you’re around a bunch of innocent children. You’d say that it’s probably the highlight of your trip, though, thanks to all the little moments of joy they brought throughout the day.

From the start, you knew it’d be hard to leave once you saw how excited they were. Running up to you to show off their drawings, talking about their favorite subjects in school— also eager to tell their stories like the members from yesterday, just in their own way. 

“E-Excuse me!” A little boy begins to pat on Zuko’s leg, trying to get his attention. “What happened to your eye?” he asks, unable to hide his concern.

It’s a question he gets every time he’s around children— he was pretty much waiting just for it at that point. 

“Oh, this?” He crouches down with a smile. “I got burned in an accident when I was younger.” 

Obviously not the truth, but that’s not a story you tell a five year old.

The kid tilts his head. “Does it hurt?” 

“Nah, I’m alright,” he says, suppressing a laugh as he ruffles the kids' hair. 

“Yeah, he’s strong!” another kid says, and Zuko easily agrees with that. 

You would’ve laughed had you not noticed a girl, who had to be around three, trying to get your attention. She’s been staring at you for quite some time now and shuffled away when you tried to say hi, but you guess she finally mustered up the courage to say something. 

“I like pink,” she quietly reveals, pointing at the lining of your robe. You’re still not wearing your nation's colors and opted to wear white and light pinks today. 

“I like pink, too.” You smile as she makes herself comfortable, reaching out and touching your robe, intrigued by silky texture as well. “Is pink your favorite color?” 

“Yeah!” She smiles back, quickly warming up to you. “Are you a princess?” 

You laugh a little. “A princess? No, I’m just a normal girl.” Your mood’s immediately ruined when you hear Zuko snort at that— you don’t even know why he’s even trying to intrude on your conversation right now, this little girl clearly likes you more. “What?”

“You come from a family full of nobles,” he reminds you with a smug grin, then looks at the little girl. “She is a princess.” 

She giggles and jumps around a little. “Are you a prince?” 

He grins, like a fucking asshole. “Close— I’m a king.” 

You roll your eyes, muttering “whatever” under your breath before a bunch of kids start asking him different questions all at the same time. 

Aside from Heito, who left hours ago, the Fire Lord’s visit lasted the entire day. You were supposed to leave around lunch, yet you stayed for lunch and dinner. The little girl, who you came to know as Mira, stayed glued to your hip the entire time. At one point she took a nap in your arms after tiring herself out, but not before making sure you’d still be there when she woke up. 

You guess the good thing about working for Zuko is that he doesn’t rush you while you try and fail to say goodbye to Mira. He stayed back, leaning against the door as he quietly watched.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” she asks with a pout on her face. 

Zuko also sees a slight pout on your face as you hesitate to answer. “I don’t know… we have a lot of work to do tomorrow. If I can’t, do you want me to send you letters?” 

The kid lets out a defeated sigh. “But— but I don’t know how to read.” 

“That’s okay,” you hum and rub her arm. “Your teacher can read it to you and you can tell her what to write back.” 

Her eyes light up. “Really?” 

“Yeah, of course.” You easily promised the girl, unaware of the fond look that always manages to appear on Zuko's face whenever he sees you at the orphanage back home. “You can tell me all about school and what you’ve been up to.” 

Her little smile returns as she nods. “Okay!” 

The little agreement between you made it easier for her to go back to her caretaker afterwards without crying. The man you’re now sitting alone with on the way back could say the same for you. You’d never admit it, though. 

For a moment, he seriously thought you were going to bring her back home with you, given how quick you were to bring back the director from yesterday, too. 

“You should’ve seen the caretaker's face when you decided she was going to read and write those letters for Mira,” he says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that set in once you stepped out of the orphanage.

You curse under your breath, you never even asked if she’d be okay with that. “I hope she doesn’t get tired from it. Fuck— what if she just throws my letters away? She’s gonna think I lied to her.” 

“I doubt it,” he stifles a laugh. “You can always have one of the fire representatives make visits and handle the letters for her, if you want.” 

“You actually think they’d do that?” 

“Sure.” He shrugs. It’s not like they’d have much of a choice if it’s a direct order from him. “They deal with assholes all the time, it’d probably be a nice break for them.” 

“I guess,” you hum. “I want it to be someone that’s a little more gentle, though. They’re all so serious, it’d probably scare her.” 

“We’ll get someone that has daughters to do it, then,” he says, determined to help you keep your promise to the kid. 

“Thank you,” you quietly say— had he been any further, he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

More silence. The discomfort it brought made it difficult to fully breathe. You had no idea what to say to him— especially not when that kiss started to replay in your mind. Heat creeped up your neck as you continued to push the image away.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that there was only one way out of this mental torture, and that was to apologize.

“So uhm…” You barely look at him, instead you mess with your robe. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for being cold towards you these last few weeks.” 

He raises his head, looking stupidly happy about being the one to receive an apology first. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you had fun today?” 

“…Maybe.” A smile starts to tug at your lips, just glad he responded with something lighthearted. “I shouldn’t have dragged it out for that long, though. Sorry for making everything more difficult than it should’ve been.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t exactly making it easy for you when you wanted to stay back.” He leans back in his seat, remembering how he went straight to demanding that you come along. “It wasn’t fair of me to try to talk to you when I was drunk and mad, either. I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, still playing with the lining of your robe, “...for the apology and for throwing out the chancellors' request to investigate the damages done in the east wing.” 

“No need to mention it.” He waves a hand, brushing it off as if he wasn’t startled by the sudden crack of lightning.

He’s going to pretend like he wasn’t considering filing charges against your clan, either— not because he felt that you needed to be reprimanded, but because he wanted to add a tally to his side of the scoreboard. 

The funny thing is you still have no idea about your clan paying for the damages. Your father didn’t even have to ask if it was you. All it took was one of his soldiers mentioning the incident for his fatherly intuition kicked in, making him extend the training break so he could slip the lord some hush money.

Zuko politely refused at first, hoping it’d build some sort of trust with your father, only to quickly realize there was absolutely nothing to build on. He truly didn’t care to form alliances with anyone outside of his family.

“I appreciate your forgiveness, but my daughter is still indebted to you. I won’t be able to sleep at night as her father knowing it could be used as leverage to turn her into some useless concubine—“ 

Zuko’s eyes widened. “No, I-I would never do that—“ 

“Right, right.” He doesn’t believe him one bit. “Unfortunately, your words bring me no comfort, but neither does the word of god. So please, allow me to soothe my spirit by taking responsibility for my daughter’s mistakes.” 

That entire interaction left Zuko staring at the wall for over half an hour, insulted and confused by the strategists' lack of trust in him. 

He clears his throat, pushing past the silence before it grows uncomfortable again. “I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you for today and yesterday.”

You blink a couple times. “...For what?” 

“You know.” Zuko does some awkward hand gesture and you still don’t know. “Like talking and getting to know everyone in the programs.” 

“Oh… thanks,” you say, still confused as to where this is coming from. “I haven’t been doing anything different, though.”

“I appreciate it either way,” he says, somehow managing to be both vague and straightforward. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” you nearly laugh, convinced he’s talking just to talk at this point.

“Fuck— everything,” he huffs, unsure where to even start— you’re fucking perfect. “Always asking the right questions, coming up with solutions with everyone's best interest in mind— all the thought and effort. Even in conversations, you always know what to say. Heito sucks at getting to know people.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get on my good side again?”

“No, I’m just— half the council doesn’t give a shit,” he admits. “At least you do.” 

His comment about the council pulls a small laugh out of you, then dies down into a hum. “Of course I do. I can’t take it out on the civilians. It’s not their fault that their Lord is—“

“Is what?” he murmurs, daring you to finish that statement.

You innocently shrug. “A little moody.”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles. “Lucky for them his advisors on the public’s side.”

“Mhm— exactly.”

If only your father knew just how much Zuko agreed with him— it wouldn’t be fair to the world if he kept you locked away. He has you to thank for a majority of the good decisions he’s made. At this point, your opinion’s more valuable than his. He might get annoyed seeing other men stare at you sometimes, but it’s never stopped him from bringing you wherever he goes. He wanted you to be admired and remembered by others.  

The idea of taking you in as a concubine has always been out of the question, despite what that crazy old man thinks. 

“I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a crown.”

The carriage creaks.

You can’t help but just stare. 

And Zuko stares back, because he fucking means it. 

He’s also aware of how much you hate hearing this stuff. For some reason, it leaves you very, very vulnerable and that’s the one thing you don’t know how to handle. 

Unfortunately, Zuko knows exactly how to break you down a bit. He enjoys watching you spiral, too. He’s just not sure which one’s worse at this point.

“That’s not,” The words die out in your throat, you want to crawl out of your skin. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” The soothing tone he uses does nothing to settle you, there’s not one ounce of remorse in it. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I— are you dumb?” you struggle to find the words, and it’s an amusing sight to see. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask your Lord such disrespectful questions,” he playfully scolds you, hoping it makes you worse so he can show you just how little he cares. 

“You have an entire courtyard of women waiting for that crown.” 

“It’s not for them.”

“Yes, it is!” You can’t help but snap at him. “That’s the whole point of their families sending them here— to have your kids!”

“It’s not a requirement.”

“No, it’s not because it just happens when you do your part.” You continue to scold him, even more annoyed at fact that you even have to explain that “God, you’re so difficult— you have so many to choose from, why can’t you just fucking pick one?!”

“I like being difficult.” He looks away as he huffs out a laugh, knowing it’ll just get worse if he continues to look at you. “Nobody’s getting that crown.”

You let out a long sigh. “You can’t just joke about stuff like that.” 

Zuko just nods and lets you believe whatever you want to believe.

He wasn’t kidding, though— that crown is yours. He’ll melt that thing down to a useless rock before anyone else could have it. 

“I’m serious— the council’s already asking questions about the next heir.” 

It’s only been brought up once, but once is enough to get the ball rolling. The topic will only become more frequent with time, and if they heard him talking like this, there will be a push.

“As if I don't have bigger things to worry about, like the crime rate shooting up,” he laughs bitterly.

He decided a long time ago that everyone was going to have to wait for an heir. He already has millions of citizens to take care of and he’s clearly not doing enough with the Silk District plummeting to hell. 

It might be too late to try to look at the bright side, but you felt a little bad for the sudden wave of stress that topic brought over him. “At least you’re doing something about it.”

“I’m trying.” He turns to look outside the carriage and catches some of the moonlight peeking through. “Go easy on me in the mean time— I’m stressed.”

“Right.” You hold back a laugh and nod. “You say that as if I’m the one that starts the fights.” 

“You should probably start remembering how important you are, then. I need you around,” he reminds you, this time around it’s said with a certainty that leaves no room for extra questions.

For once, you allow yourself to look at the way it highlights the features of his face— from his nose, to his eyes, to his jaw. So sharp. Yet even now in all his seriousness, there’s still something so soft about him. For the longest time you wondered what it was, only for you to remember what Zuko was like as a kid. He had his moments like any other child— cried a lot, too— but he always tried to do the right thing, even after all of the suffering he’s gone through. 

He’s just a good person. 

Time has only proven his father wrong— a child born with a heart of gold was the luckiest of them all.

. . . . .

Time moves slow when you’re miserable. It explains why you’re already boarding the air ship to go back home— the rest of the trip went by in a blink of an eye once you finally settled things with Zuko. 

You didn’t expect much from this trip aside from touring facilities and learning about the new programs— now you’re leaving with more people than you came with. There’s a little over a dozen volunteers, one of them being Jin, the director from the correction facility. 

At first you were worried Zuko would be stand-offish with him. It’s hard not to after catching him glaring at the guy, multiple times, for no reason when they first met, but he ended up being more preoccupied with something else. 

He was more quiet than usual, troubled over whatever thoughts were running through his mind. Then from the corner of your eye, you catch him looking at you four separate times.

The fifth is when you finally give him attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the orphanage real quick and grab Mira?” 

“She’s a child,” you remind him, since he’s treating adoption like a grocery store run. “I can’t just rip her away from her home at the last minute. Besides, they probably won’t even allow that.” 

Zuko can’t say he’s too surprised at the way you immediately lashed out at him. It’s been well over an hour since you’ve said goodbye to the kid and your eyes are still puffy.

“What if they did allow it?” 

“Why are you even asking me this right now? I can’t adopt a child right now,” your eyes start to well up again, voice threatening to break in a whine. “Who’s going to watch her?”

He’s not used to seeing you cry and pauses in fear of saying something that’ll lead to actual tears. He probably should’ve worded it better from the start. This entire idea was last minute to begin with. 

“I don’t know I was just thinking, since she’s the youngest and nobody wants to play with her, we can just move her to the orphanage at the palace. Most of the kids there are on the younger side anyway.”

“Wait.” The tears stop, you take in a sharp breath. “She won’t have to play in the corner by herself anymore. Do you think they’d actually let us do that?” 

Zuko has spent the last 6 days watching you build a bond with a little girl who adored you from the start, then he had to watch your heart break in fucking half when you had to say goodbye— never again.

He will literally kidnap Mila if he has to. 

It probably won’t be that difficult in your case, though. Her caretakers already know how much you adore her. They’ve seen the way her eyes light up when you’re around. She might not be going to a traditional family, but for all the selfish reasons people can have children, he sees nothing wrong with you taking her back home so she doesn’t have to play alone anymore.

So, yes, he thinks they will let you do that.

chapter recap:

- we met zuko’s dad and he lw hates him 🙂‍↕️

- more of readers backstory. she pretty much refuses to be with zuko bc her clans seen as problematic and since she’s not a concubine, it’ll probably set some people off. if the clans aren’t balanced, it could lead to a rebellion/someone trying to take the throne. readers also annoyed that he won’t fuck his concubines because not having an heir also causes civil unrest and could also lead to someone else trying to take the throne lol so she cares! she just wants to live in a peaceful country

- zuko hated seeing reader cry so much he gave her a baby (there’s an orphanage in the palace grounds that reader can visit her in)

- im sure im missing something

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