#comfort

The knocking comes again, harsh and insistent, and then someone kicks the door hard. A dull, terrifying thud that makes the walls shudder. If Sukuna were here… if you were still together… you wouldn’t be this scared. But he’s not. And you’re alone.

Anger, sharp and instant, cuts right through the exhaustion.

You get up. Bare feet slap against the cold floor. You walk to the door, press your temple against it, listening.

Another kick. And then you hear a man’s voice. Low, rough, drunk and messy, but so familiar it makes your skin crawl.

“Hey… open up… shit… did you fall asleep?”

And your name, yelled like he hates it and wants it at the same time. Something inside you goes ice-cold. Your first instinct is to scream through the door and tell Sukuna to go to hell.

Another kick. Then a muffled laugh.

“Open the fucking door…”

He’s drunk?

Your second thought is the neighbors. The old lady upstairs. Her calling the cops. You exhale hard, fingers tightening around the handle, and you yank the door open, ready to slam it shut again immediately.

Sukuna is standing there, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He can barely stay upright, and his nearly two-meter height doesn’t look intimidating right now. It looks unstable. His peach-colored hair, usually spiked up in sharp strands, is a mess, sticking out everywhere, clumped and dirty like he’s dragged his hands through it a hundred times. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt stretched over his chest, broad shoulders and torso, stained with dark, unclear spots. Dirt. Spilled beer. Maybe blood… if he smashed someone’s face in again.

You always hated his aggression.

Sukuna stares down at his scuffed boots for a couple seconds, then slowly, with effort, lifts his head when he realizes the door is open. His gaze is blurred, drowned in alcohol, drifting for a long moment before it finally focuses on you. And on his slightly parted lips, a wide, drunk, painfully familiar triumphant grin spreads.

Found you.

It scares you so badly your knees tremble.

Why is he here? To talk?

Sukuna never knew how to do that.

“Well, finally,” he rasps, and his breath, heavy and sweet-bitter with booze, makes you recoil.

You grimace, trying to shut the door, but he already collapses forward with all the weight of his heavy body and you, like an idiot, catch him. You’ve never seen him like this. This drunk. Alcohol rarely hit him like this. Sukuna always kept control, even when his eyes went glassy.

Now he’s disheveled, heavy, and stupid.

He stumbles into the hallway, and you instinctively brace your shoulder so he doesn’t crash onto the floor. You regret it immediately when your joints pop. His weight is muscular, solid, unexpectedly warm. And Sukuna instantly presses you against the wall, making you gasp from the force.

Something inside you turns cold from the sudden closeness, from the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol and that expensive cologne you once picked out and gave him for your anniversary. Something twists painfully inside your chest. And somewhere deep down, traitorous and quiet, something warm and familiar stirs…

“M… so tired,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. A hot, damp breath burns your skin. His lips drag along your jawline. “Came to my girl…”

You press your palms against his chest, trying to push him away, and your voice comes out strained.

“Sukuna, you… what are you doing here?”

You try to wriggle out from under him. Sukuna pulls back just slightly, staring down at you with a frown, because you always used to call him just “Kuna.” You cautiously lift your gaze to his face…

You don’t know what to expect from him. Not now. His height always overwhelmed you, but in a good way. You used to feel protected. Hidden. Safe.

Now it’s just a threatening physical difference. But Sukuna’s expression is pure, genuine confusion.

“I came home. Dumbass. To you.” He says it like it’s obvious, like there’s no argument to be had. His hand drops heavy on the back of your head, his thumb brushing along your jaw. That familiar possessive gesture.

You freeze. Did he… forget? Did his drunk haze erase the last two months? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wish you could forget too. You swallow the lump in your throat. Anger and something aching, pathetic, like the butterflies that used to flutter in your stomach when he looked at you…

Sukuna was always like this.

“Leave,” you say, firmer than you feel. “Right now.”

But Sukuna doesn’t seem to hear you. Or maybe he decides you’re just mad because he came home late. His gaze slides lower, catching on your shorts, and that lazy, pleased look spreads across his face.

“Dressed up for me, huh?” he rasps, voice thick with drunken purring.

“Asshole,” flashes through your mind.

But your hands move on their own. You shove him toward the hallway, toward your bedroom. Toward his bedroom. Toward your bedroom. One thought only: get your dead drunk ex onto the bed, call Toji, make him come pick up this wasted idiot.

And Sukuna follows obediently, clumsy, leaning on you with his arm thrown over your shoulder. His fingers dig into your muscles, and just the thought of him grabbing your chest like he used to makes your stomach twist.

The room smells like you. Books and dust. His scent faded from here two weeks after the breakup. And maybe that’s why Sukuna’s lips twitch in confusion as he looks around, trying to figure out what’s wrong, what’s changed. He doesn’t remember he hasn’t been here in two months.

You guide him to the edge of the bed, and he drops down heavily onto the mattress, making the springs squeal. He flops onto his side, and your eyes slide along the line of his back beneath his damp shirt, the familiar shape of his shoulders you used to kiss.

You hate yourself for it.

You climb onto the bed with one knee and reach for your phone lying in the middle of the blanket. But Sukuna moves faster. Long fingers, veins standing out, black tattoo markings wrapping his wrists. He snatches your phone first, his grip crushing the black case like it might crack. Sukuna manages to pull you in by the shoulders with his other arm, and you feel his body tense instantly, like he’s about to fight…

“What…” he mutters, jabbing at the screen. His brows knit. “Why… where am I?.. No… where are we?..”

You try to grab the phone back, but he shoves you forward with drunk, misjudged strength. Not cruel, more impatient and annoyed, but it’s too much for you. You lose your balance and fall onto the bed. The mattress catches you with a dull thump. Air punches out of your lungs.

You gasp, pushing your hair off your forehead, lying there, and in your chest something familiar sparks, bright and furious. A mix of rage and old attraction you thought you’d buried. You remind yourself fast who Sukuna Ryomen is and why you’re not together anymore.

He was always stronger. Always able to pin you down, ignore your protests. And before, in that haze of passion, you liked it. You liked feeling conquered when he pushed you into the pillows, covering you completely, driving his cock into your pussy, thrusting and growling into your ear until the world narrowed down to his breath and your own voice breaking into moans. Now that memory sends chills across your skin, from shame and something else.

Sukuna was always stronger.

The memory makes your skin prickle. You shake your head, forcing yourself back into reality, and search for him with your eyes. Sukuna stands frozen at the foot of the bed, your phone still in his hand. The screen lights his face from below, carving harsh, dangerous shadows under his cheekbones, in the corners of his mouth, along his neck.

“You… why’d you change the wallpaper?” His voice is low, annoyed, almost whiny. He keeps tapping the screen with his thumb, trying to unlock it. “What the hell… You changed the password? Our password… the day we…”

He cuts off, unable to remember the date. And you’re lying there, not knowing what to say. How do you explain that it’s over?

Sukuna was always such a bastard.

“Why?”

Sukuna lifts his gaze to you, confused. In his blurred pupils, disbelief flickers. He’s waiting for an explanation. And you’re lying there in shock, not knowing what to tell him.

Sukuna was always a bastard.

Mean, sharp, jealous to the point of obsession, and rough in a way he called “honesty.” He could pick a fight with your friend just because the guy hugged you when you met. “You’re my girlfriend,” he’d growl later, pulling you into him so hard it left bruises, and you, stupid, used to think that was love. He never told you he loved you. And at the same time, he let other girls hang off him in clubs, not encouraging it, but not pushing them away either.

Because he didn’t care.

He always said: they did it themselves.

They were the ones leaving hickeys and lipstick on his neck.

They were the ones crawling into his pants...

His indifference always hurt more than active flirting. And that, that blind, egocentric irresponsibility, is why you broke up. And you thought you’d almost erased that bitter aftertaste from your memory, that itch at the roof of your mouth. The intoxicating shadow of his superiority.

Before you can gather yourself and scream the truth at him, Sukuna suddenly, irritated, throws your phone into the corner. The sound of plastic smacking against the wall cracks through the silence, dry and painful.

You tense up in fear, staring at it.

Is he mad? Like, actually mad?

You look back and freeze, watching Sukuna yank his black t-shirt over his head with force, fabric tearing with an angry rustle. His movements are clumsy, drunk. In the dim light, the ink-black patterns of his tattoos stand out on his skin: rings around his shoulders, stripes low on his stomach, the intricate design on his ribs you once could’ve traced with your lips with your eyes closed.

Your chest tightens so hard you can’t breathe. Treacherous heat pools low in your stomach. Your body still hasn’t forgotten him.

But the sound of his jeans zipper sliding down snaps you back into reality.

“Stop! Sukuna, don’t!” it tears out of you, almost like a plea.

You jerk backward, trying to crawl toward the headboard, but the sheet tangles around your legs. Sukuna laughs, low and hoarse.

“C’mere, my girl.”

The sound is deep and vibrating, sending chills down your spine. His voice used to drive you insane. Now it just scares you.

A swarm of butterflies in your stomach, hateful and unwanted.

Sukuna climbs onto the bed on one knee, deciding not to pull his jeans off yet, moves closer, and grabs your ankle. Easily, like it takes no effort at all, he drags you back toward him, back to the center of the bed, to his legs. You slide across the blanket, letting out a helpless squeak.

He always did this.

Always.

“Let go!” you panic, shoving his chest with your palm. Your fingers press into the familiar hardness of his shoulder. “What the fuck?! Get off me! Don’t touch me! Get out, I’m serious!”

Sukuna frowns harder, annoyed. His brows are pulled together, jaw tense, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He doesn’t let go of your leg. His thumb starts rubbing the bone of your ankle. An unconscious, familiar soothing gesture he used to do when you were stressed before exams.

“What the fuck is your problem? What happened?!” he snaps.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” you almost scream. Tears sting your eyes.

“…I came to my girlfriend,” Sukuna says, baffled, and keeps mumbling incoherently. “Missed fucking. Missed you, huh? Why you… why are you yelling at me? What’s wrong?.. Don’t get it…”

Sukuna leans closer, and his shadow covers you completely, and you can barely breathe.

“I’M NOT your girlfriend!” you scream. “We broke up! Two months ago! What, did you get hit in the head and forget?! We’re not together anymore!”

Sukuna stares at you, and it’s like your words only reach him minutes later. He blinks slowly, processing. And he ignores the point, latching onto something else, something he thinks must be the reason for your “hysterics.”

“I… didn’t fuck anyone today,” he mumbles. His tone sounds hurt. Defensive. He shifts higher, his knee pressing into the mattress between your legs, and you inhale sharply, fingers clenching the sheets. “Didn’t cheat on you, baby. Didn’t even look at them. Why you jealous, idiot…”

“I’m not jealous! You don’t get it, dumbass! You’re drunk and stupid! Get off me!”

“No one…”

Sukuna ignores your protests, dropping his gaze to his hands braced on the mattress on either side of your waist. He looks like he’s talking to himself, trying to piece his thoughts together. His voice grows quieter, more lost, and suddenly there’s insecurity in it, something you’ve never heard from him before.

“Haven’t fucked anyone for… for two months… since my… girlfriend… left me?”

The last part sounds like an unsure question, like he’s not even certain he understood it right. Your breath catches. He said he… hasn’t fucked anyone for two months? For Sukuna, the eternal “womanizer” he used to call himself, two months of complete abstinence is basically eternity. And you don’t believe it.

The first couple weeks after the breakup, you had nightmares about him fucking other girls. And this quiet, drunk confession that slips out against his will knocks the ground out from under you.

Why would he?..

Sukuna frowns harder, bares his teeth slightly, and now his gaze, still blurry but sharper, locks onto you. There’s real, almost childish confusion in it, and a kind of vulnerability he’d never show sober. His body hovering over you suddenly feels less threatening and more… scared?

“We’re not… together anymore?” he mutters.

His hand finally lets go of your ankle, but now Sukuna touches your thigh carefully, like he doesn’t fully believe it yet and doesn’t know if you’re about to shove him away.

And you nod slowly, hoping it finally sinks in where he is and who he’s with.

“No, Sukuna. We’re not together. And that’s why we can’t have sex. Do you understand?”

But Sukuna unexpectedly moves even closer instead of backing off. His face is inches from yours. You see tiny golden flecks in his irises, red veins in the whites of his eyes, and your own reflection in his pupils.

His breath mixes with yours.

“Why?” he sounds offended. Almost hurt. His brows lift, lips pressing together slightly. “Why can’t we fuck? If I want you. If you’re… here. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Mine,” said with drunken but unshakable certainty. That’s his selfishness. His inability to let go. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter. And you’re lying beneath him, just as lost and unsure of what happens next, because this drunk, confused bastard, your ex, is looking at you like you just took the most precious thing away from him.

And he doesn’t understand why.

His question, “why can’t we fuck?” is absurd.

If he wants it, then you can.

You always belonged to him.

You always loved his cock.

So why not now?

His breath, still reeking of whiskey and mixed beer, hits your face. You watch his dilated pupils narrow on your features, trying to read the answer in your clenched lips. His thumb starts moving slowly along your leg, tracing a line from your knee upward, toward your inner thigh. His touch is rough from his healed knuckles, but endlessly familiar.

Sukuna shifts closer with his whole body.

“Why?” he repeats. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not ‘yours,’” you whisper, losing your edge.

He’s too close, and he still refuses to accept that you’re not together, like he’s just putting that reality off for later. Like he always did.

“Sukuna, you’re drunk.”

“I wanna sleep…” he mutters. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

Sukuna leans even lower, his forehead almost touching yours. His eyes are hazy, but sparks dance in them. He takes an uncertain breath, presses into your neck, and you shiver with goosebumps.

“I wanna sleep on my pillow…”

Your heart is pounding.

He’s talking about your pillow. You still sleep on your side of the bed, and his side stays empty, but you never changed the pillows. It’s stupid, something you never let yourself think about…

“That’s not your pillow,” you try to sound harsh, but the words come out quiet.

“It’s so comfy,” he ignores you.

He always does.

His hand leaves your thigh and rises to your face. You freeze, expecting something rough, but his fingers barely brush your temple, sweeping a strand of hair away.

Surprisingly gentle.

“You’re so pretty, like…”

He furrows his brow, trying to find the words, and he looks so unlike his usual arrogant, rough self that a sharp wave of pity hits you again. He doesn’t find the right words. And it pisses him off. His brows knit, and that familiar aggression flashes in his eyes, then fades again into the alcohol haze.

“Can’t fuck,” he mumbles, repeating your words. “But… can I hug you?”

You open your mouth to say no, but you don’t get the chance. Sukuna doesn’t wait for an answer, or maybe he’s just too tired to wait, because he slowly collapses onto you with a low groan, dumping his full weight on you. His head drops heavy against your chest and higher, his nose pressing into the curve of your neck. Peach hair tickles your chin.

His arms wrap tight around your waist.

Sukuna presses into you. Big, hot… shaking?

“Kuna…” you try to protest, but he only hums, burying his face into your shirt.

“Quiet. Just… lay here. Like before. I… I feel so fucking bad without you,” his whisper is muffled.

His heart is beating somewhere under your chest, fast and uneven. You feel how tense the muscles in his back are beneath your hands, hands you don’t even realize you placed on his shoulders. You stroke him slowly, over the familiar curve of his shoulder blades, down his spine. And he lets out a quiet sound, half-growl, half-satisfied purr.

“Like that…” Sukuna mumbles. “Better. Don’t leave me.”

“I already did,” you want to say, but… you can’t.

The smell of his cologne and shampoo, alcohol and tobacco, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body… it all forms a dangerous, deceptive picture of “like before.” You close your eyes, bright spots blooming behind your eyelids. Sukuna starts babbling, mumbling incoherently into you, pressed against you, his hips against yours, clinging to you from every side as he rubs his head against your chest.

“…those dumb bitches keep crawling all over me… like flies… sick of it… told them to fuck off… I have…” he suddenly goes quiet. His fingers spasm around the fabric of your shirt at your waist, under your ribs, tugging. “But you’re not here. I called, but you… phone… won’t pick up. You changed your number, yeah? And your phone password…”

He shifts again, restless.

“Why’d you leave? I… I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have sex with anyone after you. I swear. I need… only you, baby…”

You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling. His words, those drunk, broken confessions… Sukuna doesn’t understand the point. To him, “didn’t do anything” means he didn’t flirt, didn’t kiss, didn’t sleep with anyone else. But his indifference, his disregard for your feelings, his blindness, don’t count to him. That’s not “something.” That just doesn’t exist in his world.

“You didn’t look. You didn’t see me,” you sound exhausted.

Sukuna lifts his head slightly, looking up at you. His eyes seem wide now with confusion. Reflections shimmer in them. And you.

“I saw you. You’re the prettiest… the prettiest. Everyone knows…”

It’s not it. Not even close. But in his drunk, sincere admiration, there’s a drop of the warmth you always starved for.

“Just sleep.”

“Why did you leave me, baby?” he asks vulnerably, tearing you apart.

You don’t answer. You just keep stroking his back slowly, over the familiar tattoos, feeling the tension under your fingers gradually start to melt away.

His breathing deepens, evens out. Your eyelids grow heavy. You bury your fingers into his peach hair, and tears gather in your eyes. You stare into the dark, feeling his body slowly go slack as he drifts into sleep.

Sukuna is here. Drunk, lost, not remembering, not accepting that you broke up. He’s sleeping on top of you and for some reason, you can’t push him off. Not now. Not when he’s… like this. Drunk, needy like you used to be, clinging to you like you’re something he still, in his drunken head, thinks belongs to him.

You close your eyes and realize your insomnia is finally starting to fade…

Part 2: here Part 3: here

Your early days with your gang were rocky to say the least. Not just because of your bending, but your personality as well. To be clear, you had the best relationship with everyone! They adapted to your stubbornness, but that wasn't just what you had going for you; you were confident and always stood your ground. The only time you "crumbled" was when Zuko finally joined. At first, you didn't like him, no one really did honestly.

But when he finally proved his worth and showed kindness in his own ways, that's when it started. That's when your eyes always lingered towards him, even when you didn't want them to. Why? because you never ever wanted him to notice whatever feelings you had for him. For some reason, within the group, he was the one person who hung out with you the least.

You were closer in age to Katara, so being the only other female in the group with similarities is what made your bond so strong. Being the same bender as Toph, not to mention a slight similarity in personality, you both stood strong together. Sokka, well its Sokka.. But with his very charming personality, in his own way, he always placed a smile on your face. Aang, is Aang! Everyone always got along with him because of his carefree personality.

And Zuko? Well, he, for some reason, always avoided you. It wasn't like you did anything to him. You thought maybe because he noticed how different you acted with him, maybe your soft side took a toll on him, even though you barely showed it to him. You just wanted reasons to use to explain why he never looked in your direction.

You were never a jealous person, either. As time passed, he grew closer to the others, and you stood in the awkward light. The one time he went out with Katara, you knew it was important for both of them, not only to build their relationship but to learn about each other's pasts, but for the first time, you felt a weird feeling in your chest. You didn't hold any negative feelings for either of them, and to be honest, when they came back, you ran straight to Katara, a smile on your face as she mirrored it.

And as you turned to Zuko, he briefly looked at you before turning to Katara, then the others as they came up. Your smile then dropped. You watched as he interacted with the others, but not with you. Later that night, you decided to confront him. You made it into his tent, obviously scaring him.

You didn't "crumble" in front of him; in fact, you stood as the big boulder blocking him from leaving his tent, all with this stern expression on your face. Your eyes pierced through his slightly troubled own, as if he was finally caught in the lights.

"Is there anything you need?" He slightly muttered, looking up at you.

You, on the other hand, didn't waste any time; in fact, you headed straight to the point.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?" He blurted out.

Your arms folded, your eyebrows creased as you didn't accept his answer.

"Answer me."

.

.

He looked around for a bit, shutting his eyes and inhaling deep before exhaling. He opened his eyes and looked at you, dead in your eyes, and finally answered.

"Yes, I do."

Your expression didn't change, you didn't "crumble," but everything inside you did. Maybe that's why you didn't catch on that he didn't look at you with anger or disgust. But what your ears heard, it heard that instead.

When Zuko stared back at you, he didn't see anything change, which he wasn't hoping for. He has his own hidden feelings he wished to not shine light on, but he felt that after this night, there will be no light or feelings anymore.

After that night, you decided to never ever speak to him, look in his direction, or do anything with him. But what if the other asked as to why?

"Because he said he didn't like me."

As the years passed by, obviously, you all grew and finally ended the war. As celebrations began, you were called into an empty room. Your eyes lingered on this person with the audacity and saw none other than Zuko himself. Your relationship with him was already beyond repair, because you'll never let him get past you. Not after blatantly telling you off without a reason. So why now? You wanted him to start it, explain what he wanted to say so that you can go back with everyone, and forget this ever happened.

But his reasoning reminded you of why you even had this crush on him. He sat you down, yet avoided eye contact. He felt soft, in a way, compared to your demeanor. A sigh left his lips as he finally let his feelings out.

He explained that he didn't hate you; he never did. In fact, it was very much the opposite. He developed small feelings for you, but your strong-headed personality scared him a bit. It didn't fear him to the point of always avoiding you; it was one of the reasons why you pulled him in. It was the fact that he knew he had something going on with another back at home. He was scared that if you found out, your anger might grow, and not only would you hate him, but something more.

The night you cornered him, he didn't know what to say, how to explain anything, and the stern look you gave him caused him to blurt out the only thought in his head.

As you listened to his story, you understood everything he said, maybe felt the need to falter a bit, because you numbed the feeling you had towards him, but didn't get rid of it. You still liked him. But he has to work for it. Like he did with everyone else.

Fortunately, as he had to repair the fire nation, he wanted your help as there were colonies from the Earth Kingdom. So you decided to help, decided to stay with him for a bit, and that was his moment to finally build what he wanted with you. When everyone left, to help everyone from the aftermath of the war, no one knew you decided to join Zuko. No one knew that you both even had that chat to begin with.

You both came to an agreement that you will stay with him for a while, helping him rebuild his nation. You both had very different views: you wanted to help him genuinely, then go back to your kingdom, and Zuko wanted to fix your relationship. But he didn't know how much workload he would receive from fixing a kingdom.

Days passed by, and the morning sun rested on your bed as you stood by the window. You were getting ready for the day until some guards knocked on the door. Your neck turned in the direction, softly allowing them to enter.

"Good morning, ma'am, the Lord is calling you for a matter he needs assistance with." They stated.

A sigh left your lips as you nodded, walking out of the room with the guards guiding you. With Zuko in charge now, the people were left with mixed reactions; some were happy, some were not, which was understandable. But you've noticed that those who mostly favor Ozai the most as their Lord were slowly crossing that barrier of respect towards Zuko.

Your heels echoed through the halls, but halted when the giant doors of his office came into view.

"You can leave now, thank you." You ordered as you pushed open the door, leaving the guards behind.

Your eyes landed on the man seated behind the table, head in hand, but perked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes softened a bit when it landed on you, but he quickly looked away as your strong gaze held long, going through him.

"You summoned me." You stated, walking up towards the table.

"I did, here, the plan I had before, I don't know what to do. Aang and I almost fought over it." He muttered, handing over some papers.

"Is it about the colonies?" You asked, as your eyes scanned the paper in your hand.

Your ears caught the squeak of his chair as he rose to take a short walk around.

"It is, they have been here for over a hundred years, some even have families here, but there are some that are mixed with the people here. It doesn't feel right to just remove them and separate their families." He explained, his voice sounding upset and lost.

You looked up, eyes following his every movement.

"You visited one of the colonies, yes?"

"I did."

"And what did you think of it?"

He stopped walking, turning to face you.

"At first, I was surprised. But as I saw more, I thought that if I tried to rip them apart, it would create more chaos than calm."

As the words left his lips, for this one time, your eyes soften.

"And I think that's right. You should tell Aang that, and come up with a new plan." You told him, placing the papers back onto his table.

"If that's all, I shall see myself out." And with that, your heel turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

"I can see you out, actually, do you want to go.." Slowly, his words got softer, and you didn't hear the last part.

"Go where." It was meant to be a question, but your voice sounded too demanding, catching you off guard a bit.

The tone of voice caused a troubled "um" to leave his lips, but he still stood his ground.

"For a walk, we can go for a walk."

He changed his question to a statement. You would've called it a bold move if he didn't look like he was going to crumble under your presence.

You took a while to answer him, on purpose, of course, staring at him straight into his eyes, watching as he failed to maintain eye contact, but in the end, you agreed, waiting at the door for him to take the lead.

The walk was quiet; you both made it out of the palace, eyes now following your every move. You paid him a favor of starting a conversation; he's already going through so much.

"Have any plans for the colonies as yet?" You started, facing him as you both walked side by side.

"Huh? Oh. I think those who have been here for a while and have families shouldn't have to go."

"I agree."

"What about you?"

"Me what?" You asked.

"Are you going back as well?"

"Probably."

"..."

When you noticed you didn't get back a response, your eyes lingered on him for a bit before facing forward.

"I said probably, that isn't a yes or a no."

"You're right." He muttered.

His down demeanor made a small smile grow on your face. Teasing him became your new. The tension was broken by a random civilian who began to shout, pointing fingers at Zuko.

Another follower of Ozai, upset with the change Zuko's making. The nearby guards got into action, ready to take care of the man, but this was your first time witnessing it in person. You felt the need to put your word into this.

"Is there a reason why you were so moved by the previous Lord Ozai's ways? Please tell. Because from what I could tell, your little whining here clearly shows that you had little to no understanding of what would've happened if Ozai got his way. For once, people like you wouldn't have such a carefree life right now; rather, you would've been working until you dropped from exhaustion or be banished from doing something as little as watching him the wrong way. So I suggest you enjoy the sun that's beating on your back, or do you want to join him down in the dark cells?"

You knew your words had an effect on everyone around; they all looked around, mainly staring at you. But the civilian was lost for words. He wanted to bite back, but couldn't. In the end, you bid Zuko goodbye, told him to finish up the problem, and you went back.

What you didn't notice was his eyes lingering longer as you disappeared into the distance.

After that incident, you haven't really seen Zuko that much, but one thing that has changed is the looks you get either from the guards or random civilians passing by. It didn't bother you that much. What bothered you is that after Zuko cleared the colonies problems, you have yet to see or hear of him.

As of right now, you were seated by your vanity, brushing your hair for the night. It was late, and you had guards outside of your room, but they didn't bother you when you decided to go on with your plan. The thought of leaving your chambers in your nightwear didn't cross your mind; the guards had no say either when their eyes followed your every move.

You could only go so long without seeing him. As stern as you may be, you were confident in your feelings. You will stand tall and confidently express your feelings if you must. But here you are, inside his office, finding him fast asleep, head resting on the papers. Seeing him in this state, you finally noticed all the aspects you hadn't before. Of course, you both grew, but it was the first time you noticed how much longer his hair got. He seemed a lot bigger than before. Your hands hovered over his face, fingers gently moving his hair out of his eyes.

As much as you felt confident in your feelings, the soft side in you doesn't really want to show the affection you wanted to. So under the moonlight, as his eyes rested, you left the room to get your spare blanket, made it back into the office, and draped it over his back. You moved his hair out of his face, finger lingering a bit more on his cheek. A sigh left your lips as your eyes traveled to the stacks of papers he still had to get through. You confirmed the thought in your head to return in the morning to offer some help, but right now, you softly placed a kiss on his forehead, caressing it one last time before making your way out.

You heard a slight shuffle, turning in his direction. A small smirk formed.

"Sleep well, Firelord."

.

.

.

You made it back into your chambers, ready for bed, when the sounds of knocking stopped your tracks. Your eyes darted to the door, allowing entry. It caught you off guard when you saw none other than the man you left to rest.

"Did you come to tell me to sleep well?" You joked a bit, sitting on your bed.

Zuko stared back at you, pulling the blanket off his back, and walked up towards you. You didn't break eye contact, not once, but he didn't as well. This was a first. He came to a stop, looking down at you as you looked up. For a bit, it was like that, that is, until he stooped to your level, knees on the floor as he placed the blanket across your back instead. He rested on his knee, getting lower, and held your hand in his. He looked up at you, sweetness lingering in his eyes.

This, for once, was new to you. He wasn't this bold before. His stare held; he didn't break it, not once. So yours soften, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Do you have something to say?" You muttered softly.

"Did I earn you?"

"Hm?" Your eyebrows rose.

"I had to work for us, prove that I really want us. Did I do it?"

Your lips were slightly opened. It closed as you slightly nodded.

"You did, for a long while."

"Hm." He softly smiled. His eyes made it down to your lips, head tilted a bit as he leaned in, his eyes locked back with yours. Soon, your lips touched, and his hands roamed your frame, resting on your waist. Yours found his cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. You won't say it, you never will. But it was indeed your stubbornness that held all this back, keeping all the pent-up affection. He broke for air, yet still close enough that you felt his breath brushing against your face.

You tilted his face up, finger pushing his chin. It traced along his face, playing in his hair. His face rested in your palm, looking up at you in adoration and love. Slowly, you removed your hand, forcing him to move his head. Instead, your hand found his from around your frame, standing as he followed behind. A small smirk formed on your face as you fell back onto the bed, a surprised sound leaving his lips as he fell on top of you.

His hands came in contact with the bed first, preventing you both from hitting your heads. But as his eyes linger, his head finally caught up with the position you place them in, he rushed to remove himself, but your hands locked him in place first.

"Wait!-"

"Do you want me to let go?"

Your question rang in his ear, repeating over and over in his head, and with a final sigh, he rested his head in your chest.

"No.. Not really.." He muttered before looking up at you, letting his hands roam your frame as you both felt the air shift. It got heavier, warmer, and everything fell into a blur.

In the morning, your cheek rested against his chest. The warmth of his bare chest is enough to keep you asleep, but the knocking on your door broke the trance. You rose from his chest, to find out that Zuko was already up, and his fingers were raking through your hair.

You felt his hand drop as he too rose.

Your eyes studied his frame, shoulder-length hair falling around him, as his muscles moved when he stretched.

"What is it?" He asked out loud to the guards outside.

"Oh, you're in there, my Lord. I'm sorry to bother."

That's when it hit him, mid-stretch, he stopped. His eyes landed on your frame, and then his cheeks got warmer.

"I think that knock was for me." You muttered, pulling the blanket around you.

"Yeah, I think it was.." He muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"I'd never think that they would ever get together.." Sokka muttered as a little girl pulled on his ponytail, small "ow's" leaving his lips as he battled her for his own hair.

Katara smiled at the scene before standing up to get the 2-year-old off her brother. She placed her on top of Appa as giggling escaped the toddler's lips. She found joy in his fur, dragging her hands all over his head.

"I hope she grows up like her momma." Toph joked, hinting at how you were back in the days.

"Zuko would have a rough time if she does," Aang muttered, watching her as she played in Appa's fur.

The sound of the door opening caught their attention as the girl looked up, and her smile grew.

"Papa!" She exclaimed, sliding off Appa, with Aang catching her, then letting her run up to her father. She crashed into his legs, looking up at him with glee.

Before Zuko could respond, the tug of his hair caused a yelp to escape his lips.

"What about mama dear?" You softly asked, stooping to her level.

A giggle escaped her lips as she ran towards you, right into your arms. They all stared at the family, some still baffled at the idea.

"I still couldn't believe it when I saw the letter, "You are invited to our wedding!" I DON'T RECALL ANY MENTIONS OF DATING?!"

"We are right here. I'm blind, not deaf."

Sokka glared at her as her eyes stared off into the unknown distance.

"Yeah, but that means they worked out whatever tension they had," Aang said, patting Zuko's shoulder.

"In bed.." A laugh left your lips as you heard what Toph muttered. Zuko sighed, hair falling over his face as his hands found it.

"Okay, guys, they're getting married soon, let's just celebrate, please.." Katara explained, as Toph sighed. The others agreed, and they all made it into the palace.

Your daughter decided to follow behind Zuko, no care in her head that he has work to do. She'll just help him.

You, on the other hand, lead the others to their room.

"So, in the end, you didn't go back home?" Aang asked.

You shook your head.

"I don't think I ever was planning to after he invited me to stay for a while." You explained.

"And when was this invitation?" Sokka asked, sticking his nose at you.

"At the celebration. Tea shop."

"Huh? WHAT?"

You glared at him for being so loud. A sigh left your soft lips as you let them roam the palace, slowly leaving the group as you venture for your family.

You made it into the throne room, seeing the old chamberlain leaving the room, a sour look still on his face. Your eyes followed his frame before falling onto the guards as they all bowed in your direction.

Your ears caught the sound of your very loud daughter "ordering" the men around. She sat on Zuko's lap while his eyebrows creased in concern, yet his face held a smile. When her eyes landed on you, the loudest "Mama!" echoed throughout the room.

You walked up to the duo, giving Zuko a small peck before patting your daughter's head.

"Are you done here?" You asked.

"Thanks to her, we ended early," Zuko muttered, looking down at the child.

A small "hm" left your lips as you told her, "good job". Zuko's eyebrow rose as he heard it, and he let your hand pull his as he held onto their daughter and rose from his chair.

You dragged them into your shared room, Zuko placing their daughter down as she roamed around. He, on the other hand, already made his way towards the vanity, staring at himself in the mirror as you came up behind. Your fingers dragged through his long hair, slightly pulling it down, forcing him to look up at you.

Your free hand rested on his cheek, fingers roaming, and your thumb rested on his bottom lip. Your hand that raked through his hair left the locs to get the brush, but less brushing was going to happen when you leaned down to connect lips.

You felt his smile form as he moved his head up more, his hands making it onto your face as he deepened the kiss more.

Unfortunately, you both have an unruly daughter who "thinks" she can bend by calling out the element and:

"Oof-"

A gasp left your lips as your eyes landed on the book that now rested on the floor, but for sure made contact with Zuko's head.

"Air bending!" She exclaimed with a pose.

"I think not." You stated, glaring at her, about to make your way towards her, until Zuko's hand rested on yours.

"It's okay.. I'm fine." He muttered, holding his face.

"Dear, you'll get a scar on the other side if she continues."

"Let's not overreact." He joked, looking up at you.

"Huh? I'm not. What if one day she does bend and it's fire, and then-"

"OKAY. Okay.." He muttered, looking away.

He then looked at his daughter as she ran up to him, giving him a sloppy kiss, where the book landed before picking up the same book.

"Sorry papa..!" She exclaimed, before running out of the room and off to who knows where. You both sighed as you shared a look.

"She said sorry." He softly said, shrugging his shoulder.

You stared down at him, with that one look he knew and loved. A troubled look made it onto his face as he looked away. That was when the smirk made it onto yours, as your fingers made it into his long locs, to tug at it.