#thisiscareless

He looked every inch the Fire Lord now. Crimson-and-gold robes draped over broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in the traditional topknot, the scarred side of his face turned partially toward the chamberlain who stood at the foot of the dais, reviewing a scroll of council agenda items. Two attendants waited near the side doors, ready to announce arriving nobles. Royal Guards stood motionless at the entrance, spears gleaming beneath the flames.

But Zuko’s attention had faded long before the chamberlain finished speaking.

The moment you stepped through the doors, his golden eyes lifted to you.

He noticed everything: the rigid set of your shoulders, the exhaustion hidden beneath careful poise, the way your fingers twisted together as though holding yourself upright through sheer force. You were beautiful, devastatingly so, wrapped in ceremonial silks embroidered with molten gold flames, but there was strain beneath the elegance. A quiet ache you tried too hard to conceal.

And he hated seeing it.

The weight of the palace pressed against you from every direction. Endless petitions. Trade negotiations. Noble families whispering behind painted fans. Every corridor felt lined with judgment. Too young. Too soft. Too harsh. Too loud. Too quiet. Too ordinary. Too unworthy to stand beside the Fire Lord.

"Apologies," you said, voice quieter than intended. “I didn’t realize you were preparing for council. I’ll come back later.”

You turned to leave, your hand already on the door handle.

"Everyone out."

His voice cracked through the chamber like flame striking oil.

The chamberlain blinked. "My Lord, the council preparations—"

"Can wait." Zuko's golden eyes swept over the room. "Attendants, guards, do take a break. All of you. I have an urgent matter to discuss with the Fire Lady. Privately."

No one dared argue. The attendants scattered, guards bowing before retreating through the towering doors. The chamberlain hesitated only a heartbeat longer before lowering his head and following after them. Heavy doors shut with a resonant thud, sealing the throne room in silence save for the soft roar of firelight.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft, searching your face with those intense eyes that had seen too much war and too much loss, yet still looked at you with nothing but tenderness.

You tried to hold it in. You really did. But the words came tumbling out as you began to pace the throne room floor, your hands gesturing helplessly.

"The noble families are circulating rumors that I'm not fit to sit on the throne because I wasn't born into this life. They say I don't deserve this. That I'm just a decorative piece on your arm. That my efforts on the trade agreements are pointless because I'm not a warrior, not a firebender, not enough."

You climbed the steps toward him, frustration sharpening your movements.

"Today the governor of Yu Dao implied the orphanage reforms are a vanity project. Said you would’ve never wasted time on something so frivolous" Your voice cracked. "I'm trying so hard. I've memorized every protocol. I've studied the histories until my eyes ache. I greet every petitioner with respect. But it's never enough. They don't see me. They see some—some outsider who doesn't belong."

Zuko watched you for a long moment before holding out a hand.

"Sit with me," he murmured, and he patted his lap. "Come here."

You glanced toward the closed doors. “Zuko—”

"I don't care about the council," he said simply. "I care about you. Sit."

You crossed the final steps and settled onto his lap sideways, silk cascading over his thighs and spilling down the throne like liquid flame. The moment you touched him, his arms wrapped around your waist instinctively, pulling you flush against the solid heat of his chest.

The familiar scent of sandalwood and smoke enveloped you. He pressed his lips to your temple.

"Now listen to me," he said, his forehead nearly touching yours. "You are not an outsider. You are my wife. You are the Fire Lady. And you are doing more for this nation than half the men who criticize you."

A kiss pressed against your cheek. Then another near the corner of your mouth.

"You care about people they’ve spent years ignoring. Those children in the orphanages know your name. The people in the lower districts wait for your visits because you actually listen to them.” His lips drifted lower, grazing the curve of your jaw. “You walked into a fractured kingdom and started stitching it back together with your bare hands. With me.”

Your breath caught when his mouth brushed the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“I see every sleepless night,” he whispered. “Every sacrifice. Every burden you carry when you think no one notices.”

His fingers curled beneath your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

“You are brilliant,” he said. “You are brave. And Spirits help anyone who tries convincing you otherwise.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, but you held them back. You turned your head to look at him, and he captured your lips in a kiss that was full of everything he couldn't put into words. His hand slid into your hair, careful not to disturb the intricate pins as his lips parted yours deeper. Warmth bloomed through your chest, dissolving tension beneath the relentless tenderness of his touch.

You melted against him with a shaky sigh.

The kiss deepened.

His tongue swept against yours languidly, savoring every soft sound you made while his hands roamed your waist possessively. Heat curled low in your stomach, replacing frustration. Your hands finding his shoulders, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robes.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, laying soft, reverent kisses along the line of your throat. His hands moved, unbinding the sash at your waist, loosening the intricate folds of your ceremonial robe. The fabric fell away, baring your shoulders, your breasts. The cool air kissed your skin, but his warmth instantly replaced it as he pulled you flush against his bare chest. He had kicked off his outer robe somewhere in the process, and now your back pressed against the firm muscle of his torso, the heat of his skin seeping into yours.

"I want to remind you how powerful you are," he whispered, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck. "How beautiful. How utterly irreplaceable."

His right hand cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple with a practiced gentleness that made you gasp. At the same time, his left hand slid down your stomach, past your navel, between your thighs finding you wet and ready, and he let out a soft, appreciative hum against your ear.

"Perfect. You're perfect. Every inch of you. Every curve. Every thought in that brilliant mind."

His fingers found your clit through the thin fabric of your inner robe. You arched against him, your head falling back against his shoulder, and he caught your mouth in another kiss as his fingers moved in torturously slow circles, each movement drawing a shudder from your lips. He knew your body as intimately as he knew the pull of fire beneath his skin.

His other hand kept rolling and teasing your nipple, alternating between soft strokes and firmer squeezes. When you began to move against his fingers, he chuckled low in his throat.

“That’s it. Let me take care of you.”

His middle finger slid inside you, then a second, curling upward to stroke that perfect spot. You cried out, your hands gripping his thighs for purchase. He pumped slowly anfd deeply, his thumb still working your clit. Your head fell back against his shoulder, breath breaking into soft moans as he worked you open.

His mouth never stopped moving against your skin.

Kisses along your throat. Your jaw. The sensitive place beneath your ear that always made you tremble.

"You feel that?" he whispered. "That's yours. Every bit of pleasure you feel is yours. You earned it. You deserve it. You are enough, you always have been, and if anyone says otherwise, they answer to me."

His thumb circled your clit relentlessly while his fingers thrust deeper, slower, dragging broken sounds from your throat with every movement. You clutched at his robes helplessly, grounding yourself against the overwhelming heat unraveling through your body.

The pressure built, warm and urgent, coiling low in your belly. You ground down onto his fingers, whimpering, and he matched your rhythm, speeding up just slightly. He felt the way you tightened around him, the way your breath caught, and how your body surrendered to his touch.

"You're doing so well..."

"I'm close," you gasped, your inner walls clenching around his fingers.

“I know," he breathed. "Let go for me. I've got you."

And you did, your climax crashed over you in waves, your body shuddering against his, a choked moan escaping your lips as he worked you through it, his fingers slowing. Zuko held you firmly through it, murmuring praise like a litany against your mouth while your thighs trembled around his hand.

“So beautiful,” he breathed. “That’s my girl…”

When you came back to yourself, you were breathing hard, your body limp against his, and he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You barely had time to recover before you felt the hard outline of him pressing insistently against your lower back. You moved, grinding against him, and heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Someone's eager," you murmured.

"You make me that way." He kissed your shoulder.

With surprising ease, he lifted you from his lap and rose from the throne. Your legs wobbled beneath you while he shrugged free of the remaining layers of his robes, exposing the toned planes of his chest and stomach beneath the light.

Scars marked his skin here and there. Proof of battles survived. Lightning endured. Beautiful in ways words could never fully capture.

He guided you back onto the throne itself.

The sight alone nearly stole the breath from his lungs.

Silk pooled around your thighs, hair slightly disheveled, lips swollen from his kisses while you sat upon the Fire Nation throne looking utterly ruined beneath his gaze.

Zuko dropped to his knees before you without hesitation.

“This throne belongs to you too,” he murmured, spreading your thighs carefully apart. “Allow me to show just how much you do.”

His tongue travelled through your folds, savoring you with an audible groan that sent heat spiraling straight through your body. He kissed and licked you with infuriating devotion, alternating broad strokes with flicks of his tongue against your clit until your fingers dug desperately into the throne’s armrests.

“Spirits,” he muttered against you. “You taste incredible.”

The vibration of his voice made your thighs shake.

He devoured you. His fingers slid inside you again while his mouth worked your clit mercilessly, dragging you higher faster than before.

“Zuko—”

You tangled a hand in his hair instinctively, earning a deep sound from him that went straight through your core. His grip tightened on your thighs, holding you open while he buried himself deeper between them.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Use my mouth. I want to feel you.”

The second orgasm built frighteningly fast.

Your body was already sensitive, trembling from the first release, making every stroke of his tongue almost unbearable in the best possible way.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

His eyes lifted to yours with desire.

“Come for me again.”

The command shattered whatever restraint remained.

Pleasure ripped through you violently, your cry echoing against the towering walls while your body convulsed beneath his mouth. Zuko drank in every tremor greedily, refusing to stop until your legs nearly gave out entirely.

Only then did he pull back.

When you finally turned, your legs shaky, you saw him still seated, his face glistening, his erection straining visibly against his trousers. He looked utterly, sinfully satisfied.

And Spirits, he looked devastating.

For several long moments, the throne room dissolved into silence broken only by the crackling braziers and your ragged breathing.

When he finally rose, his hand cupped your cheek with impossible gentleness, thumb brushing away the tear you hadn’t realized escaped.

He tilted your chin upward and brushed one final kiss against your lips- soft this time, almost boyish despite the crown resting atop his head.

“You are one of the best women this palace has ever seen,” he murmured.

The sincerity in his voice nearly undid you more than his touch ever could.

A laugh escaped you. “You’re biased.”

“Absolutely.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “But I’m also right.”

He bent down and kissed you again, stealing the air from your lungs.

“What about you?” you murmured against his mouth, glancing downward meaningfully.

“It’s not necessary.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Watching you fall apart for me is more satisfying than anything else.”

When you reached for your discarded robes, he caught your wrist.

“Take your time,” he said, kissing the back of your hand. “I’ll delay the council.”

He crossed the throne room barefoot, gathering the remaining pieces of his clothing before stopping near the massive doors. He glanced back one final time.

His gaze swept over you sprawled across the throne.

A dangerous smirk curved his mouth.

“I think the throne suits you, you look magnificent on it.”

And then he was gone, the doors closing behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room with the echo of his words, and the unshakable certainty that you belonged exactly where you were.

Part 2.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The movement between you tugged your robe loose, exposing warm skin to the cool air. His eyes dropped instantly, amber darkening with hunger at the sight of your chest rising sharply beneath him. Whatever restraint he had left splintered.

“You— take me so… so well,” he groaned at last, the confession torn from somewhere deep in his chest. His rhythm slowing while he weighed whether he could spare the time to bury himself between your breasts.

A pleased smile curved against your lips. Your fingers caught his jaw, forcing his gaze back to yours. “What else, Zu?”

“I love when you… get so—tight around me,” he admitted, forehead dropping against yours.

“Do you?” you whispered, lips brushing his while you clenched around him.

His eyes shut immediately, a sharp breath escaping through his teeth as his movements nearly stuttered.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Why not?” Your hand slid beneath the folds of his robe, fingertips tracing the heat of his chest.

“Because…” He exhaled, his eyes remained closed trying to compose himself as he kept thrusting into you. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

A soft laugh escaped you, breathless and wicked. “Who would’ve thought the Fire Lord couldn’t handle a little teasing?”

You caught his jaw tighten.

“I can,” he said firmly, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. “Just don’t do that again.”

“You mean this?” you asked sweetly before tightening around him once more.

“Fuck.”

He rose abruptly, one hand tangling into your hair with instinctive force. The sharp pull sent pleasure skittering down your spine, and the sound you made only seemed to unravel him further.

For a second, his fingers softened, stroking the spot he’d tugged as though apologizing for losing control, before whatever patience remained in him vanished entirely.

Instead of speeding up recklessly, he drove into you with brutal precision in deep, steady thrusts that knocked every coherent thought from your mind one by one. The couch creaked beneath you, your legs trembled violently as moans spilled freely into the room, loud enough that neither of you could pretend the guards stationed outside the office doors weren’t hearing every sound.

Zuko leaned over you, breath hot against your ear, each stroke somehow deeper than the last.

Your visits to the palace had become frequent enough that the guards barely questioned your presence anymore, and among your friends, you were the only one who never seemed eager to leave. You had seen him in moments the council never would: tired, frustrated, quietly resistant to everything they were trying to force onto him.

Which was exactly why the invitation in your hands felt so… wrong.

Katara had been beside you when it arrived, and her reaction had been a delighted gasp, followed by barely contained excitement over what she insisted on calling your long-standing crush on Zuko.

A perfectly reasonable (and, you would argue, entirely manageable) crush. Because more than anything, he was your friend.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” you said, already trying to dismiss it. “My family isn’t noble. We live on the outskirts of the capital. I shouldn’t even be on this list.”

“Or,” Katara countered, eyes lighting up, “he did it on purpose. Maybe he realized he likes you, and this is his way of making it official!”

You huffed. “If that were true, he could have just asked me to come. Not… include me with everyone else.”

You felt more disappointment than you cared to admit, and Katara didn’t miss it.

She crossed the room, digging through your wardrobe before pulling out a garment you hadn’t touched since Ba Sing Se. “Either way, you’re wearing this,” she declared, holding it up with a grin. “You looked beautiful when you tried it on. He’s going to lose his mind! Honestly, I wish I could be there to see it.”

You hesitated, your arms crossing as your gaze settled on the dress you had been saving for an occasion that had never come.

“I’m not wearing that,” you said after a moment. “In fact, I’m not going at all.”

Katara raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just a good friend,” you added.

“He knows I’ll be traveling with Toph to visit Aang,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe he just… wants someone he trusts there.”

You raised your eyebrows.

She stepped closer, pressing the dress into your hands. “A good friend wouldn’t let him face that alone, would she?”

You exhaled.

She was persuasive. Annoying, but persuasive.

And, unfortunately, right. Not just about the quality of friend you were.

About the dress, too.

The fabric was a smoldering red, layered with silk that shifted like flame when it moved. Gold threading traced delicate patterns along the bodice (subtle, but unmistakably Fire Nation in design) while the neckline dipped just enough to feel daring without crossing into impropriety. The sleeves were light, almost weightless, leaving your arms free, and the skirt fell in flowing panels that caught the light with every step.

You didn’t belong to the court, but you certainly didn’t fade into it either.

Heads turned as you stepped further into the room, the hum of conversation continuing around you, and standing there, surrounded by a sea of people, you realized… maybe Zuko wasn’t the only one who was going to faint.

He stood across the room, mid-conversation with an attendant, a glass held loosely in his hand.

And spirits, he had never looked like that before.

Zuko was dressed in full Fire Lord regalia, layers of deep crimson and black falling sharply along his frame, embroidered with gold that caught the light like flickering fire. The high collar framed his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw, while the structure of the robes did nothing to hide the strength beneath them- broad shoulders, a straight posture that spoke of both discipline and quiet power. His hair was pulled back neatly, though a few strands had come loose, softening him in a way that made him look less like a ruler and more like him.

Like the boy you knew before he’d redeemed himself, and now the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His gaze found you in an instant.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand in a small wave You noticed the women gathered nearby begin to murmur among themselves, one of them smiling as if that look had been meant for her.

If only she knew.

You tried to weave your way through the crowd, intent on reaching him, when the hem of your dress was suddenly tugged back by someone stepping on it.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with the Fire- oh.” The woman turned, recognition lighting her face. “It’s you. Aren’t you… a friend of his?”

“I…” Your eyes flickered past her, catching sight of Zuko already being drawn into yet another conversation, this time with a different woman. “…am. Yes.”

“I thought this event was reserved for nobility,” she continued, her gaze traveling over you with thinly veiled judgment. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting alongside the Avatar or something, instead of trying to fit into places like this?”

Before you could answer, a hand you would recognize anywhere came to rest on your shoulder.

“Lady Renmei,” Zuko said, stepping into place beside you. “I wasn’t aware your invitation had been approved.”

She bowed. “It was, Fire Lord, and it is an honor to—”

“In fact,” he cut in, “I believe it has just been revoked.”

He smiled politely in response to her shocked expression.

“This gathering is not intended for those who lack basic courtesy. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing as an attendant swiftly escorted her away.

The moment she disappeared from view, you turned back to him, your amusement impossible to conceal. You lifted your hand, and he met it with a quick, faintly smug tap. Small enough to go unnoticed by anyone else.

“So this is why the Fire Lord can’t find a Fire Lady,” you murmured. “You charm them straight out the door.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “If that were true, I might actually be grateful for all of this. I could dismiss them quicker.”

He shifted beside you, his gaze moving briefly over the crowd. “This whole process is exhausting.”

“Have you, though?” you asked, glancing up at him. “Found someone?”

He rolled his eyes- completely undisguised, and very much not befitting a Fire Lord. “Not even close. I never intended to. But they insisted, and I was obligated to at least try, remember?”

“They’re going to be disappointed,” you said lightly. “Good luck with that.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, quieter now.

You didn’t quite understand what he meant. He had stepped closer without you noticing, the warmth of him unmistakable now, radiating through the space between you.

“I’m glad you came,” he added. “I thought you might leave with Katara and Toph.”

So Katara had been right.

Again.

You took the untouched glass he offered, still warm from his hand. The brief contact sent a quiet spark through you, one you tried very hard to ignore.

“I just thought you might need some support,” you said. “And I am a good friend, aren’t I?”

Zuko stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, as if weighing your words more carefully than they deserved. “I—“

“Fire Lord Zuko,” a nobleman interrupted, stepping forward. “Allow me to present my daughter….”

“Of course,” Zuko replied, the politeness returning instantly, though you could hear the effort behind it.

Before he turned away, he glanced back at you briefly. You dipped into a small, proper bow.

“Duty calls, Fire Lord.”

He nodded before turning away, though you could have sworn there had been something else in his eyes, almost like disappointment.

You drifted toward a quieter side of the hall, where a long table had been arranged with Fire Nation desserts- glazed fruits, delicate pastries, and warm, spiced sweets you had grown far too fond of over the years. Beside them, trays of drinks shimmered under the light.

You paused there, looking over them, unsure.

“You do not seem very happy.”

Uncle Iroh’s voice was unmistakable, even in a room this full as it carried warmth all its own.

You turned instantly, a smile breaking through as you stepped forward to embrace him. He laughed softly, returning it.

“What troubles you, my dear?” he asked, studying you with that same knowing gentleness. “Are you not enjoying the gathering?”

You let out a quiet huff, your shoulders dropping just slightly. “I would… if I could spend it the way I want. With who I want,” you admitted.

His smile deepened, thoughtful rather than amused.

You had known him long enough to trust that look,, ever since those quiet afternoons in his tea shop in Ba Sing Se, where advice had come as easily as the tea itself.

“Don’t you have a tea for this?” you added.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, folding his hands behind his back, “tea can calm the heart, but it cannot decide for it. When your path feels uncertain, it is often because you are standing at the edge of a choice you already know you must make.”

You stilled slightly at that. After a moment, he picked up a glass from the table, filled with a soft, blue liquid and offering it to you.

“But in your case,” he added with a small, knowing smile, “tea may not be enough.”

You took the glass, and the evening seemed to blur pleasantly after that.

Time slipped through your fingers. You danced with Uncle Iroh, spoke with him longer than you meant to, and drank just a little more than you probably should have. The music softened, the laughter grew warmer, and for once, your thoughts stopped circling back to him.

At least… not as often.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Iroh, I shall return with more!” you promised, already stepping away. He laughed, clearly delighted by your company.

You were scanning the room for another tray of that same blue drink when your footing faltered, and before you could fall, a pair of strong hands caught you.

“Whoops!” you laughed, looking up. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your Fire Lordness—spirits! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Your hands slid to his arms without hesitation. “You look amazing, did you know that?”

Heat rushed to his face almost instantly.

Zuko steadied you carefully, his grip firm but controlled, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you might do next. He glanced toward a nearby attendant. “Clear the area, tell everyone to leave,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle this.”

“Yes, Fire Lord,” the attendant replied, already moving. “Good luck with your friend.”

“Handle what?” you asked, slipping your arm through his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Who’s your friend? Have you already chosen someone?”

“You are my friend,” he said, a little more quickly than intended, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you over. “And what, exactly, did my uncle give you?”

You followed his gaze across the room, spotting Iroh near the drinks, happily waving in your direction.

“A great piece of advice, of course,” you said, as if that explained everything. “You should try it- you look like you need it. Oh! There it is!”

You reached for another tray, grabbing it entirely from a passing attendant before Zuko could stop you.

“You’ve had more of those?” he asked, incredulous now, guiding you gently, but firmly, away from the crowd.

“Yes,” you said brightly. “It’s better than tea.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

He led you through the edge of the hall, away from the music and the watching eyes, into a quieter corridor lined with warm lantern light. Guards straightened at his approach, but he dismissed them with a brief gesture before opening a set of doors and guiding you inside.

You stepped in—

and stilled.

You weren’t in the gathering anymore. You were in Zuko’s chambers.

The space was quieter, warmer than the rest of the palace, lit by low, steady firelight that flickered softly along the walls. Rich fabrics in deep reds and golds framed the room, but there was something more personal beneath it- less ceremonial and more lived-in. A low table rested near the center, scattered with scrolls and maps, some half-unrolled as if he had left them mid-thought. His armor stood carefully arranged near one wall, not displayed, but ready. And just beyond it, his bed… simple in structure, but softened by layered blankets and dark silk.

You turned slowly, taking it all in, your gaze lingering just a moment too long on the details that felt so familiar, so Zuko.

The quiet click of the door pulled you back. You turned, still holding the tray, and found him watching you. There was something uncertain in his expression, almost disbelieving but warmer than anything he had allowed himself to show in the hall.

“So this is where you rest…” you said, stepping further into the room, your fingers brushing lightly along the edge of a table as you passed. “Very appropriate.”

A small smile found its way onto his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristically shy gesture that didn’t quite belong to the Fire Lord.

“I wasn’t sure where else to take you so I could—” he paused, searching for the right words, “—make sure you were alright. Forgive me if this is… improper.”

“Does your chamber have a bath?” you asked suddenly, interrupting him as you turned back, your tone light but earnest. “I really need one. May I?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then nodded, still a little speechless as he gestured toward a door tucked into the corner of the room.

You smiled, placing the tray into his hands before lifting one of the glasses and finishing it in a single motion. “Don’t get rid of these,” you added, already moving. “I love them. You should try one- here!”

You pressed another glass into his hand, ignoring the way he eyed it with suspicion.

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring, flameo hotman,” you teased, stepping backward toward the door. “I expect that glass to be empty when I come out.”

The bathing chamber was warm the moment you entered, the air thick with rising steam and the faint scent of heated stone. Fire Nation design carried through here as well- dark red tiles, polished to a soft sheen, lined the floor and walls, while narrow vents along the edges released controlled heat, keeping the space comfortably hot.

At the center sat a large sunken bath, carved from smooth stone, wide enough to fit several people at once. Thin streams of heated water flowed continuously into it from sculpted spouts, the surface rippling gently under the glow of low lanternlight.

The warmth settled into your skin almost instantly. You exhaled, already beginning to undo your dress, fingers working quickly at the fastenings hidden along the side. The fabric clung stubbornly, resisting your efforts far more than it had any right to.

You tried again.

And again.

A quiet huff escaped you.

‘Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it’, a voice in your mind insisted.

You hesitated for only a second.

“Zuko!” you called, the sound echoing softly against the stone. “Could you—” you paused, then committed, “—come help me, please?”

You weren’t entirely sure he had heard you, so you considered calling again. You weren’t drunk, you knew that, but you were certainly something. Enough to say things you normally wouldn’t, and to let thoughts slip past the careful filter you always kept in place around him.

“What can I help you with?”

His voice came from the doorway.

You turned slightly.

Firebenders… if only the heat affected him the way it affected you. You would have given anything to see those layers gone from him, just once.

“My dress,” you said, turning your body so he could see the fastening along your side. “I need you to undo it. The blue drink isn’t exactly helping.”

A faint pout tugged at your lips.

Color rose to his cheeks almost instantly.

“I—yes—of course,” Zuko stammered, clearing his throat as he stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.

He approached carefully like each step required more thought than it should have. His hands hovered for a brief moment before finally settling at the fastening of your dress.

Warmth creeped through your body. Not from the room, from him.

His fingers worked slowly, deliberately, undoing each tie with care, though the occasional brush of his knuckles against your skin sent a quiet shiver down your spine. He was focused- too focused on the task, as if looking anywhere else would be a mistake.

Once the dress loosened enough to slip from your shoulders, he stepped back immediately, turning away from you altogether.

“What are you—?” you began, then stopped, understanding settling in. “Oh. Thank you for your help. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

The words lingered in the air longer than you intended. He didn’t move.

“I think I should,” he said after a moment, still facing away. “You’re not exactly steady, and I’d rather not have you slipping into my bath unattended.”

You smiled to yourself, the fabric already on the floor, and stepped into the water.

The heat wrapped around you instantly, sinking into your skin, easing tension you hadn’t realized you carried- but it wasn’t the same. Not like his touch.

Not like the warmth of his hands, careful and grounding, lingering far longer in your mind than it had on your skin.

You exhaled softly, settling into it.

“You can turn around now.”

He did, slowly, as if giving himself time to prepare, and when his gaze finally found you in the water, it faltered for just a fraction of a second. His eyes widened, not enough to be obvious, but enough for you to notice.

You held back a smile.

“I might already know your answer,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough, “but could you bring me the tray with the drinks?”

He crossed his arms, something amused flickering across his face. “It’s gone.”

“What?” you asked, sharper than you meant to be. “Why?”

“I…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I drank the rest.”

You blinked.

“You… did?” A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

“I apologize,” he added quickly, though there was a faint hint of ease in his voice now, his hands moving behind his back. “But now that you’ve discovered them, I’ll make sure they’re prepared whenever you visit.”

“They are very good,” he admitted, almost as an afterthought.

“I know,” you said, your laughter softening. “But they help you relax. I’m sure you noticed. Maybe you should—”

You stopped yourself, your hand quickly covering your mouth.

He let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, sinking just a little deeper into the water, as if it might hide you. You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself before peeking at him again. “We’re friends, right?”

He nodded, a small, knowing smile resting on his lips.

“Would it be strange,” you continued, your voice softer now, “if you joined me? It might help. The water is… very nice. And you deserve to rest.”

“We’re friends,” he said after a beat. “We’ve been in the sea together before. I suppose this isn’t much different.”

Before you could fully process his answer, his hands lifted to the fastenings of his robes- only for him to pause.

“I turned around…” he reminded you.

You did so immediately, your back to him, suddenly far more aware than you had been moments ago. You kept your gaze fixed ahead, willing yourself not to turn, not to think too much about the quiet movements behind you such as the soft shift of fabric, the faint sound of layers being set aside.

You didn’t move. Not until you heard the water behind you, a soft ripple followed by a light tap against your shoulder.

When you finally turned, your breath caught.

His silhouette had changed. The weight of his formal attire was gone, leaving only the quiet strength of him beneath the water, the surface breaking just at his chest. His hair, no longer bound, fell freely around his face and shoulders, dark strands softened by the steam.

This time, you felt your cheeks warm.

“Well…” you said, letting out a small laugh, “I suppose the bath works better than the drinks.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’m still not convinced those drinks should be allowed in the palace.”

“They should,” you countered, shifting slightly in the water, the movement sending gentle ripples toward him. “They make people honest.”

“That explains a lot,” Zuko replied, glancing at you with quiet amusement.

You smiled, relaxing a little more. “And they’re calming! You needed it. You looked like you were being sentenced, not hosting a gathering.”

“That’s not far from the truth,” he admitted, settling back against the warm stone ledge of the bath. “I think I spoke to at least ten people about alliances I don’t want and futures I’m not planning.”

“And the ladies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any of them win you over?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

“Wow,” you said lightly. “They’re going to be devastated.”

“I think they’ll recover,” he replied dryly. Then, after a beat, his tone softened just slightly. “You weren’t supposed to be part of that, you know.”

You stilled a little. “Then why am I?”

He hesitated.

“My uncle insisted,” he said. “He said I should invite people I actually trust.” His gaze flickered back to you. “People I would rather see there.”

The words hit your chest in an exquisite way.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he added.

You looked down at the water briefly, your fingers trailing through it. “I almost didn’t.”

That caught his attention.

“Why?”

You shrugged slightly, though it wasn’t as effortless as you wanted it to be. “Because I didn’t want to be… part of a list.”

“You’re not,” he said, a little too quickly.

You looked up at him again, studying him more carefully now. “Then what am I, Zuko? Just a friend?”

He didn’t answer right away.

The water between you stilled.

“Someone I wanted here,” he said finally. “A very important guest.”

You huffed softly, trying to pull the moment back into something lighter. “Well, next time you could just say that. Save me the competition.”

“There wouldn’t be any,” he replied, almost absentmindedly.

You blinked.

“…Zuko.”

He seemed to realize what he’d said a second too late, his gaze shifting, a hint of color rising to his face again.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

“You did,” you interrupted.

You shifted in the water.

“For someone who didn’t want this whole thing,” you murmured, “you’re not doing a very good job of hiding your preferences.”

His eyes met yours again.

“I wasn’t trying to,” he said.

The words struck you more directly than you expected, like a lightning, leaving no room to laugh them off.

“Zuko, I—”

“Don’t do that again,” he said suddenly.

You stilled, confusion flickering across your face as you found yourself drifting closer without quite realizing it.

“Do… what?” you asked, a note of uncertainty slipping into your voice. For a brief second, doubt crept in… had you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

“Say my name like that,” he interrupted your thoughts, his voice lower now. He stepped closer as well, closing what little distance remained between you. “And before you ask, I mean when you say it like that. Breathless…”

He stopped himself, jaw tightening slightly, as if he had already said more than he meant to.

“It makes me want to—”

He cut himself off.

Your gaze didn’t leave his.

“It makes you want to what?” you asked, softly. “What, Zuko?”

The space between you disappeared in a single movement, his restraint finally giving way as he kissed you firmly. It wasn’t hesitant, but it wasn’t careless either; there was intention in it, in the way he held you and the way he didn’t pull away.

Your hands found his hair almost immediately, still damp, fingers threading through it. The contact seemed to undo something in him, his composure slipping as his hands moved to your sides, finally allowing himself to touch you, to feel the closeness he had been so careful to avoid.

You were already close, but it wasn’t enough.

His grip tightened as he drew you closer, guiding you with him as he lowered himself against the edge of the bath, bringing you with him until you were settled over him, the water shifting around you both.

“Zuko…” you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Exactly like that,” he murmured, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “You’re not very good at following requests, are you?”

A soft laugh escaped you, light but unsteady, as you leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek, just at the edge of his scar. He stilled for a moment, caught off guard by the gentleness of it before your hand came up to his face in a quiet reminder that it was only you. He relaxed.

“I am,” you said quietly. “Even more now, I promise. The blue drink made me more… agreeable.”

“Then,” he replied, his voice lower now, steady but no longer distant, “may I request something of you?”

You simply nodded.

“Would you let me touch you?” he asked.

Given the way you were seated over him, the question felt almost rhetorical.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

A small smile curved on his lips as his hand moved between you. “You sound delightful,” he murmured. “That’s a word I’ve never heard from your mouth before…”

You didn’t get the chance to respond.

A sharp gasp escaped you as his fingers found your clit, circling with intention, drawing an immediate reaction from you. Your body sank further onto him, your hands rising instinctively to cradle his face as he leaned back against the edge of the bath.

“Isn’t this trick effective?” he asked, his voice edged with curiosity as his movements grew more precise. His other hand steadied your waist, keeping you from shifting too far. “I don’t hear you talking anymore…”

A breathy laugh slipped from you as you leaned into the crook of his neck. “You are… you—” you tried, your words breaking as his rhythm adjusted, firmer now, exactly where you needed him.

Until he stopped.

You barely had time to react before his lips brushed your shoulder, grounding you again, and then he rose from the water, lifting you with him effortlessly.

“You move your waist too much,” he said, almost thoughtful, as he carried you out of the bath without pause. “I think we should move somewhere more… stable.”

“I’m being carried, so I trust you,” you replied with a small laugh. “Though I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.”

The lightness in your tone didn’t last long.

He set you down gently on the bed, and for the first time, you really looked at him.

Water still traced down his skin, every line of his body defined beneath the dim light- the strength in his shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the way his abdomen tightened with every small movement. There was something almost unfair about it.

“I could really get used to this,” he said, moving over you.

He had barely settled into place when you shifted, pushing him onto his back instead. Now he lay against the mattress, and you were above him, your body still damp, the last drops of water slipping between you.

“Me too,” you answered.

Your hands moved over him starting at his chest, sliding lower, until they reached him. Already hard. You stroked him once, then again, slow enough to feel the effect it had on him as his breath caught.

“You were right,” you murmured. “This trick is… very effective.”

His hands found your waist, gripping just firmly enough.

It was all the invitation you needed.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his again as your hand continued its slow rhythm, your body shifting closer until you aligned yourself over him. You paused just for a second, before easing down, taking him in gradually.

Both of you let out a low moan at the same time.

You adjusted, your hands moving briefly to push your hair back before settling into a rhythm- slow at first, but with an urgency beneath it that refused to be ignored. The lingering warmth from the drink was nothing compared to the feeling of him inside you, the steady pulse of him making your body respond around him.

The pace didn’t stay slow for long.

The soft sounds of movement filled the room as your rhythm quickened, the contact between you becoming more insistent, less controlled.

“You feel… so good,” he said, his voice strained now, his hands tightening as he shifted, lifting you slightly just to change the angle, his movements growing harder and faster.

“Don’t stop, Zuko… please,” you breathed. “I’m close.”

“How could I even dare?” he answered, his voice strained with his own effort.

The heat of him only seemed to intensify, his skin burning warmer beneath your hands, his grip tightening as he moved with you; matching your pace, guiding it, until it was impossible to tell who was leading anymore.

“You’re so… beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice breaking slightly as his rhythm continued, the sounds of your bodies meeting filling the space between his words. “You always have been…”

His voice, his words, the feeling of him still buried inside you- it all came together at once, sending you over the edge. Your body trembled, your legs tightening as your release hit you.

He held you through it, steadying you, grounding you, before easing you down onto the bed beside him- never leaving you, never breaking the connection between you.

His movements grew uneven, less controlled, until he followed you, his breath catching as he finally stilled.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Only your chests did in attempt to catch your breath.

His hand remained at your side, absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against your skin, as if grounding himself in the fact that you were still there.

You shifted slightly, just enough to look at him.

He was already looking at you.

You leaned in first.

His hand came up to your face almost instinctively, holding you there with gentleness.

When you pulled back, it wasn’t far.

“We’re… very bad at being just friends,” you murmured, touched with the faintest hint of a laugh.

A breath of a smile crossed his lips.

“I think we’ve been bad at that for a while.”

You huffed lightly, letting your forehead rest against his for a moment. “Katara is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

That earned you a quiet laugh from him.

“She already didn’t,” Zuko admitted.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “What does that mean?”

“She may have said something,” he replied, almost too casually. “About you not just being there for… support.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though a smile betrayed you. “I knew she was involved somehow. She was very insisting about that dress.”

“I’m glad she was,” he said. “You looked flawless.”

Your fingers drifted lazily over his chest, tracing patterns without much thought. “I don’t regret listening to her. Nor do I do the dress, the drinks, the very questionable decisions—”

“The drinks were definitely a factor,” he added.

You laughed softly. “They were excellent, by the way.”

“I noticed. And I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

You shifted closer again, your head finding a more comfortable place against him, your voice lowering as the weight of the night finally began to settle in.

His arm moved around you without hesitation.

Your eyes began to grow heavier, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion you had been ignoring all evening.

“Don’t let them pick someone else,” you murmured, already half-asleep, your words softened by sleep.

A quiet breath of a laugh left him.

“I’d like to see them try,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin as the night finally stilled around you.

Part 2.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

“We already agreed on a signal,” he said, letting out a low moan as you licked him from base to tip. You took the head of his cock into your mouth for a swift second before pulling off with a pop.

“Which was…?” You brought both hands into play, stroking him. You were sure the slick noises were barely audible over the noise of the grand hall outside the doors.

He reached down, tugging the lobe of your ear with hardly any force. “The ear tug.”

“I didn’t see you! We have to think of another one.”

“Yeah... let me think,” he rasped, his hand moving to the nape of your neck to guide you back toward his length.

Under his firm grip, you bobbed your head, supporting his weight with one hand while tasting every inch of him. From this angle, he was breathtaking: his robes were an absolute mess, but the gold shoulder plates of his outer coat made his shoulders look even broader. His eyes flicked down to meet yours, his mouth parted, making no effort to hold back the moans spilling past his lips.

You kept going, gripping him tight and using your hand to complement the thrusts into your mouth, right up until his hand tightened in your hair and pulled your head back.

“Not yet. Get up,” he growled, gesturing toward his large desk.

You obeyed, gathering the slick beaded pre-cum from the corner of your mouth with a tip of your finger. “But we have to be back in—”

“Aang is currently trying to convince the Earth Kingdom delegates not to pull out of the council,” Zuko interjected, his voice thick. “I saw Katara on her way to bail him out. That gives us ten minutes, minimum.”

You licked your finger clean. “I like your math. Plus, Sokka is even chattier than usual after three cups of fermented plum wine… That’s another ten minutes right there. If we hurry, we can—”

Zuko shut you up with a kiss, his hands gripping your hips to lift you onto the edge of the desk. Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed you back until you were lying flat against the cool surface.

His hand cupped the side of your breast through your loosened dress. His lips trailed down the column of your neck, down to your chest, kissing one breast while massaging the other. He lavished his tongue over your hardened nipples like a man starved, alternating between them until you were writhing.

“I love to hear you talk,” he said against your skin, “but I love hearing you moan for me even more.”

He tracked a trail of fiery kisses down your abdomen, hooking his arms under your knees to spread your legs wide until he was kneeling between them. Without wasting another second, he dove straight for your center.

“Agni…” you gasped, your back arching off the hard desk. “Mm, I love—fuck taking a break!”

“Mhm…” he hummed against your heat. The vibration forced your hands to scramble for purchase on the edge of the desk, recklessly scattering parchment and official seals in the process.

Your whimpers only encouraged him. Zuko pinned you steady with a heavy arm across your lower abdomen. His free hand drove two fingers deep inside you, slipping in and out in tandem with the punishing work of his tongue against your clit.

He was rsdiating heat. His breath burned sweet against your skin, his eyes locking with yours through the haze of pleasure, absolutely devoted. You reached down to touch his face, carefully avoiding his hair; the golden Fire Lord crown was still pinned into his formal topknot, holding the half-updo required for the gala you’d just escaped.

Seeing how desperate you were becoming, Zuko suddenly pulled away and straightened up.

“What…?” you pleaded, already missing the heat of him.

“You forget,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask.”

He reached up, unclasping the Fire Lord crown and pulling the gold pin from his topknot, letting his dark hair fall loose around his shoulders. He shed the heavy red tunic of his state attire, tossing it aside to reveal just his dark under shirt and loose trousers, his cloth belt already untied.

“Wouldn’t want anything getting in the way of the Fire Lady.”

“In that case, lose the shirt already,” you panted, propping yourself up on your forearms. “Oh, maybe that could be the signal. You fixing your collar or undoing a button…”

“I don't think you'd notice that from across a crowded banquet hall,” he teased, unbuttoning his shirt. “Unless you’re always watching me?”

You slid a hand down and circled your own clit a few times under his gaze, making a deep flush creep up his neck to his cheeks.

“I am always watching you, Zu.”

“We wouldn’t even be in this room if it weren’t for my discreet whispers in your ear between greeting dignitaries,” he murmured, leaning down to press a single peck to your clit. “But keep brainstorming…”

He took his shirt off, dropping it somewhere in the study alongside the rest of his discarded attire, and stepped right back into position between your thighs.

The light of the moon, streaming through the grand window behind him, illuminated the flex of his broad, muscular back, highlighting the faint battle scars across his skin as he leaned over you.

His mouth resumed its wicked attack. Without the crown in the way, you finally held Zuko close, burying your fingers deep into his hair.

“Zu—Spirits! Don't stop…”

You pulled his head even closer, rolling your hips into every stroke of his tongue until you were unraveled. The climax hit you hard, shattering your composure as you cried out his name into the empty study.

With a final and lingering kiss to your belly button, Zuko worked his way back up your body, capturing your gasps in a tasting kiss as your high slowly began to settle.

Your hand cupped his cheek, breathless. “I really think now we should—oh!”

Without a word of warning, Zuko scooped you effortlessly off the desk. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and hooked your arms over his shoulders, the remnants of your formal dress draping over his forearms.

“Maybe you could just shout,” he suggested, carrying you across the room.

You laughed. “I don’t think screaming your name is very discreet, Fire Lord,” you teased, pushing a stray lock of dark hair from his eye. “It might attract a little attention.”

“Yes, but…” He lowered you onto the plush divan in the corner of his study, his usual spot for informal tea and private council. “…it would be effective. You could just pretend you dropped something.”

You watched him kick his trousers, your eyes tracking the movement of his hands as he stroked his length.

“I drop things all the time. How would you know which stumble is a signal and which is just me being clumsy?”

“Easy,” he said, kneeling on the divan and straddling your thighs. He gave his cock a few pumps that made your mouth water. “If you drop something more than three times in five minutes, it’s definitely a signal.”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through when he leaned down to kiss you, positioning his head at your slick entrance.

“Everyone would make fun of me,” you whispered against his lips, guiding his tip to your center.

“Next thing you know, the High Council will be debating the Fire Lady's tragic lack of coordination.”

He chuckled and pushed inside you in one deep slide.

Both of your moans were muffled together as your lips locked. When he began to move, you could have sworn he was even larger than before. You were so tight around him, wringing sounds from his chest with every heavy thrust.

Zuko leaned his weight onto his hands on either side of your head, his face burying into the crook of your neck as his pace picked up. You closed your eyes, your hands gripping the skin they could find like his back and shoulders, your nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as he drove you wild.

He moved, grabbing both of your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. He thrust once, twice… so hard and so deep that a loud scream escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“Fire Lord?”

Your eyes flew open. You slammed a hand over your mouth. Zuko froze, towering over you.

Normally, if an attendant interrupted, he’d quickly bring you to a hand finish, help you smooth down your clothes, and play the stoic ruler.

Instead, his eyes locked onto yours, and he drove his hips forward in another thrust.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your hand pressing against your lips to muffle the cry that tore from your throat.

“Fire Lord, are you in there?” the attendant called out, knocking.

“Zuko,” you whimpered against your palm, “maybe we should—ah!”

Another deep roll of his hips. You bit down on your hand. Outside, the knocking stopped.

“I’m not stopping,” Zuko stated in a whisper. “Not yet.”

“… Fire Lady?” came another voice from the hallway.

Zuko kept up a merciless pace, giving you just enough time between dragging thrusts to keep from screaming aloud. The only sound in the dimly lit private study was the slap of skin against skin and the heavy sound of his breathing. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, to say the least.

“They’re not in there,” the first attendant's voice said.

“They’re probably in the grand kitchen. The Fire Lady mentioned wanting spiced plum cake earlier. Let’s check there..”

The footsteps faded down the corridor. With the threat gone, Zuko lost all restraint. He seized your hips with both hands, pounding into you with force, watching the exact point where his body met yours. You rolled your head back.

When he finally pulled out, he reached down and grabbed your hand, hauling you up into his lap. He caught you in a messy kiss, his hands massaging your hips with a eager heat.

“I could send an attendant to fetch you,” you panted, resting your forehead against his as you sat straddling his lap. “Something official, but not suspicious.”

He stroked your thigh, encouraging you.

You took hold of his cock, guiding him back to your slick entrance, lowering yourself down his length.

“That’s good,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your waist as you took him all the way in. “We could use a code word... Like, ‘The Fire Lord requires a delivery of fire flakes.’”

You stopped mid-motion, looking at him incredulously.

“Are you serious? I’m riding you right now and you’re thinking about snack food?”

Zuko let out a laugh, his hands urging your hips to move. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you began a rolling rhythm on his lap, swallowing his groan with your mouth.

“I can’t think straight when you’re close to me,” he admitted, eyes half closed.

“That’s a bit of a problem considering we’re married,” you teased, setting a rhythm that made his head fall back against the divan. “And I happen to like being close to you. Exhibit A…”

His hands roamed over your bare skin. His heat was rising, radiating from his skin like an oven.

You picked up the pace, riding him harder, feeling the coil in your gut tighten to a snapping point.

Zuko’s hands clamped tight onto your waist, guiding your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours.

“Spirits… right there!” you gasped, tossing your head back.

He let out a growl against your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. The friction was electric. You came around him, your internal muscles pulsing tightly against his length, which pushed him over the edge.

With a groan, Zuko poured himself inside you. The sudden release sent a wave of heat rushing through his veins, steam rose off his shoulders and chest in the cool night air of the study.

He held you against his chest, both of your heartbeats hammering together in the quiet room as the steam dissipated, leaving you collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion.

He didn't pull away or rush to sit up. Instead, his fingers trailed lazily up and down the curve of your bare spine, pressing tender kisses to the top of your head, your temple, and finally your lips.

“You okay?” he whispered against your ear.

“More than okay,” you hummed, pressing your face into the still warm crook of his neck. “Though we’re going to be hopelessly late getting back…”

“Let them wait,” Zuko said, his smile pressing into your collarbone. He smoothed back a lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb resting on your cheekbone with an understated tenderness. “I’m in no hurry to go back out there.”

For a few quiet minutes, you stayed wrapped in each other's body. Yours naturally rocked against his in slow pulses, savoring the friction and radiant heat of him inside you, enjoying the rare stillness away from the overwhelming demands of the court.

Zuko sat up, taking your hand to help you gather your discarded robes. There was no desperate scramble at all, he helped you drape the heavy silk back over your shoulders, his fingers taking their time to tie the intricate waist sashes for you. You returned the favor, leaning in to replace the golden flame coronet into his topknot and smoothing down the structured collar of his coat.

As your fingers touched his tunic, you looked up into his eyes and double tapped the flame crest embroidered on his collar.

Zuko raised his eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“Our signal,” you whispered, smiling with pride. “Next time we're stuck at one of these long banquets, I’ll find a way to walk past you and double tap your crest just like this. It means you have ten minutes to clear your schedule, find a private room, and wait for me.”

Zuko’s lips curved into a smirk, he reached up to cover your hand with his own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Consider your signal officially approved.”

Before you could kiss him again, three loud knocks rattled the doors of the study.

“Hey, guys!” Sokka’s booming voice carried right through the thick wood. “Aang’s speech went great, Katara didn’t have to freeze anyone, and I’ve successfully eaten my weight in Fire Nation food! But the delegates are asking where their hosts ran off to!”

You both looked at the door, then back at each other.

“...Unless you two are doing 'official Fire Nation business' in there? Because if you’re making me stall the Earth Kingdom council by myself, I’m drinking the rest of the good plum wine!”

Zuko closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“We’ll be right out, Sokka!” you called back, trying to keep a laugh out of your voice.

“Take your time! Just make sure your crown isn’t crooked, Zuko!” Sokka teased, his fading footsteps echoing down the hallway alongside his triumphant laughter.

You giggled. As for Zuko, instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer.

“Ready to face the court?” he asked, his thumb trailing a path over the inside of your wrist.

You turned your head, pressing your lips in a touch right to the sharp angle of his jaw.

“Anything for you, Fire Lord.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to your mouth.

“Is it too soon for you to tap my crest?”

note: hii!! sorry for going mia 🫶 i’ve been busy as usual, and on top of that i’ve had a lot of family events lately. i wanted to post this as a little thank you for being so patient while i disappeared.

next up will be the too little too late-inspired one shot, which i’m super excited about!! hope you liked this one! thank you so much for reading and for all your support. xx

You knew the heat that coloured your cheeks was your body's own attempt to reflect the feelings he always brings out of you. You decide to squirm, trying again to move against him to force some semblance of friction. It accomplishes nothing, so you smile as much as the agonizing tease allows you.

“You can say that and keep moving, you know.”

He doesn't respond. Instead, he adjusts his stance, rolling his hips forward in a single movement. It’s barely a thrust, relentless all the same.

You bite your lip, trying to glare at him, but you can’t quite manage it through the haze. “Move.”

He cocks his head.

“I’d rather not do that yet...”

“If you won’t move, then I will.”

Trying proves to be even worse. Pushing against him turns the torment back on you. He is filling you so thoroughly that even sitting still, you could swear you could come at anytime.

“You’re enjoying this way too much for a former villain,” you strain out.

Before you can draw another breath, he pulls back and drives into you with a single thrust that rattles your entire body.

His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you to the mattress, driving deep, over and over, until your sight blurs. You clutch at his shoulders at his mercy, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.

You whimper. “A-Agni… I’m taking back the ‘reformed’ part.”

“You asked me to move..."

He remained composed atop the raised dais, hands resting against his knees as another minister elaborated on the matter at hand.

“…which is precisely why granting exclusive docking rights would undermine the eastern ports, Fire Lord.”

Across the room, Governor Lian shook her head in disagreement.

“With respect, Minister Qin, my province financed the entire expansion of those docks. Surely equity demands that—”

“It would,” another councilor interrupted, “had the southern merchants not provided half the labor.”

“They were compensated.”

“I shall remind you that they were compensated only financially,” Governor Lian corrected. “That does not make their contribution equivalent.”

“And financing the docks does not grant ownership over them. As I’ve previously mentioned…”

The debate, denying itself the choice to become anything else, resumed.

Zuko resisted the unroyal urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. After nearly two hours, the map spread across the central table seemed to have accumulated far more pins than actual solutions.

He looked at the open windows, wondering if, by now, you had already finished your own duties. If he remembered correctly, today's schedule had you reviewing the final preparations for the Royal Academy's new wing.

If the spirits proved exceptionally kind, the two of you might still manage lunch together. It had become one of his favorite parts of the day, salvaging an hour to yourselves before the relentless demands of duty reclaimed you both.

A knock silenced the chamber. Every head swung to the doorway.

One of the palace guards stepped inside, looking far more uneasy than a routine interruption should ever warrant.

"My apologies, Fire Lord." The guard hesitated. "There is... someone requesting an immediate audience."

Zuko couldn’t answer as a familiar little voice sounded from behind him.

“Papa?”

Izumi stood at the entrance, peeking from behind the guard as she fiddled with the hem of her tunic beneath her hands. The moment her eyes found Zuko, the little crease between her brows disappeared; she gave him a small wave without ever lowering her chin, even beneath the curious gazes now fixed upon her.

For his part, Zuko smiled.

Princess Izumi dipped into a bow.

“I’m sorry for… interrupting,” she said, stepping into the chamber with her hands clasped before her, just as you'd taught her. “Mama said I could come find you if your meeting was almost over.” She tilted her head. “...So is it, Papa?”

Governor Lian had abandoned any attempt to conceal the headache brewing behind her temples, Minister Qin tapped the edge of the map with the end of his brush as a distraction, and even a few attendants standing along the walls seemed grateful for the unexpected interruption. More than one councilor hid an amused smile.

“I assure you, Princess, it won't take much longer,” he replied, offering her a discreet wink that earned a tiny giggle. “I'll come find you in just a moment, alright?”

She nodded, though she made no move to leave. The guard at the door waited for instructions, but Izumi merely moved from one foot to the other.

“The hallway is quite boring to wait in, though…”

A few chuckles escaped around the council room.

“Oh?” Zuko mused, pretending to consider the matter with all the seriousness as he glanced around the room. “Whatever could the palace possibly offer to keep the Princess entertained?”

His eyes brightened with exaggeration. “I know!” Patting the space beside him on the broad dais, he smiled. “Come here.”

Izumi gathered the hem of her tunic, climbing the steps to the dais, and accepting Zuko's hand once she reached the top. She settled beside him with remarkable composure, making sure to not forget folding her hands in her lap like you had taught her.

"I promise to be quiet," she whispered behind her hand.

"I know you will," Zuko murmured, kissing her cheek..

Governor Lian, her expression now holding a smile, stepped forward and gestured back to the map. “As I was saying, Fire Lord, the eastern harbor becomes entirely unsustainable if every province enjoys unrestricted access. We financed the expansion, commissioned the engineers, and maintain the infrastructure.”

"And no one disputes that," Minister Qin answered patiently. "However… the southern ports have relied upon those routes for decades. Restricting access now would cripple their trade."

"It wouldn't cripple anything," Governor Lian countered. "It would encourage investment elsewhere."

A councilor cleared his throat. "Which, realistically, requires years and a small fortune in silver."

"And until then?" another asked. "The southern merchants simply absorb the loss?"

The debate threatened to spin into its third hour. Beside him, Zuko felt Izumi's head drift from one speaker to the next, her eyes tracking every pointing finger.

A tiny tug found the sleeve of his robe.

"Papa?"

He turned his attention toward his daughter.

"Mm?"

"...I don't understand."

Minister Qin regarded the princess with a courteous nod.

"The matter is rather straightforward, Your Highness, if I may attempt an explanation.” He eyed Zuko, who offered a brief nod, entertained by the idea. “Two provinces possess competing proprietary claims over a shared maritime infrastructure following disproportionate fiscal and logistical contributions, rendering the equitable allocation of commercial privileges exceptionally—"

Izumi blinked twice, then looked back at her father.

"...What?"

Zuko pressed his lips together, doing his absolute best to suppress a smile.

"I think," he said, meeting Minister Qin’s eyes apologetically, "what the minister means is..."

He reached for the map, lifting two small carved wooden ships from opposite ends of the harbor.

"Let's pretend these are two turtle-ducks."

A ripple of amusement passed through the room. Governor Lian folded her arms, smiling.

"I must admit, Fire Lord," she said, "I am curious to see how the turtle-ducks resolve our maritime crisis…”

Zuko looked back down at Izumi. "These are two turtle-ducks, alright? This turtle-duck helped build the pond."

She nodded, watching the explanation unfold.

"And this turtle-duck has been swimming there for a very long time."

Izumi tilted her head, her brow furrowing as she processed the information, which alone made Zuko melt.

"...Are they friends?"

"They're… trying to be."

"That’s nice of them." She studied the wooden figures. "Why are they shouting then?"

Governor Lian let out the tiniest laugh, catching herself. "That's an excellent question, Princess. They both want to use the pond, so they… ” She hesitated, looking awkwardly around the room. “…they bump into each other when swimming.”

Izumi nodded. “They just need to say 'excuse me' when they pass!”

Minister Qin began adjusting his robes as he jumped back in, "Unfortunately, Princess, commercial shipping requires simultaneous—"

Izumi leaned forward, letting everyone know she wasn't finished as she reached out a tiny finger to nudge the two wooden pieces until they sat side by side on the dais.

"But..." She looked up at Zuko. "...if this one helped build the pond..." She patted the first boat. "...and this one loves the pond..." She patted the other. "...why are they trying to win it?"

She gave one of the figures to Zuko, her little fingers wrapping the other one.

"Papa says the sky is big enough for every dragon," she recited. "...Maybe ponds are like that too?"

Zuko turned the boat over in his hand, feeling the rough grain against his thumb as he spoke. "...If one turtle-duck took over the pond," he said, "...the other could no longer swim."

"Nope," she corrected matter-of-factly, placing the wooden boat back beside the other one before propping her cheek against her palm. "That wouldn't be fair."

Zuko nodded, closing his hand around the toy as he addressed the table with a proud smile.

"I believe the Princess is asking," he said, directing his voice at Governor Lian, "whether this discussion should be about deciding who deserves the harbor..." He rotated his palms up, inviting the rest of the council in. "...or how everyone who depends on it can continue using it fairly."

Governor Lian rolled her shoulders back, pulling away from the table where she had been slouched for the better part of the morning.

"...Then perhaps," she began, "exclusive rights needn't be permanent."

Minister Qin set his inkstone down.

Lian continued, her hand tracing a small arc over the table to illustrate. "The eastern province could retain priority access during the peak harvest months, when the harbor is at its busiest. Outside of that window… the southern merchants would be granted unrestricted use."

Minister Qin considered the proposal, tapping the end of his brush against his palm.

"The southern ports would, in return, contribute to the harbor's maintenance throughout the year," he said. "Shared responsibility should accompany shared access."

Governor Lian offered a decisive nod. "That seems only fair, indeed.”

A collective rustle of paper followed as several councilors leaned back in their chairs.

"It is hardly a finished treaty," one governor remarked, capping his inkwell.

"Yes," Minister Qin agreed, sweeping his old notes into a messy pile and pulling a fresh sheet of parchment toward him. "But it is considerably closer than we were an hour ago."

Zuko let out a breath as he stood up from the dais.

"Then let us adjourn for today," he said. "Minister Qin, Governor Lian, I trust the two of you can draft the revisions before tomorrow's session."

Both officials bowed at the same time.

"It will be done, Fire Lord."

A collective exhale seemed to pass through the room as chairs scraped backward. Beside him, oblivious to the fact that she had just dismantled a morning's worth of bureaucratic gridlock, Izumi was occupied with making the two vessels waddle clumsily across the map's margin.

"...Now say sorry," she muttered to one of them, tapping their wooden hulls together.

Governor Lian laughed. She massaged the bridge of her nose as she watched Izumi. "She possesses your heart, Your Majesty."

Zuko watched his daughter, who was too engrossed in her game to notice the adults. "I hope hers is even better," he replied.

Minister Qin smiled, wiping a dark smudge of ink from his thumb with a cloth. "If I may say so, Fire Lord, it was never your answers that truly distinguished you."

Zuko tilted his head, prompting the old man to finish.

"It was the questions you chose to ask," Qin said, dropping his brushes into a small terracotta cup.

"...Thank you, Minister."

He stood up, shaking out his legs to get the blood moving after hours on the dais. He extended a hand down to Izumi. "Now, if you will excuse me... We happen to have a vital luncheon to attend."

The doors groaned open. You were standing on the threshold, having arrived just as the first few officials crossed the exit.

"Mama!"

Izumi leaped down from the low platform, her slippers slapping against the polished floor as she sprinted across the room. You dropped into a crouch just in time to catch her momentum, the air leaving your lungs as she wrapped her arms around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder.

“Well, hello, if it isn't my favorite Princess…” you said, pressing a warm kiss to her temple. “I told you to wait outside if the meeting hadn't ended.”

“But Mama,” Izumi said, pulling back enough to allow you to breathe, her lower lip turning out in a tiny pout, “it was too lonely!”

"And she ended up being quite the help," Zuko added.

He offered you a hand to help you back to your feet. You accepted it stepping into his space, your arm slipping behind his back while his settled around your waist. Leaning down, he stole a well earned kiss.

"Did she, now?" you murmured once you parted, letting your forehead rest against his chest, equally worn from your own royal responsibilities.

Zuko smiled, smoothing a hand over Izumi's hair.

“She's ready to become Fire Lord.”

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at your lips. To him, Izumi had been ready to be Fire Lord since the day she was born. You knew your daughter was, in reality, heading down an excellent path, but the pride in your husband's voice stirred your curiosity.

“How come?”

Instead of answering your question, Izumi returned one of the little carved boats she still held to Zuko so she could proceed to take your hand, and lead you into the corridor.

"Pay attention, Mama. Do you see my boat?”

You nodded.

“Turns out it’s not a boat, it’s a turtle-duck…”

note: hii, i hope you like this one while i finish the request inspired by ‘too little too late’! thank you for reading!! Xx

Hours had passed since he’d disappeared into meetings. Dinner had come and gone without him, leaving the palace unbearably quiet. And alone in the privacy of your bedchambers, wrapped in silk and memory, your hand couldn't help but slip beneath your robe.

Your fingers found the slick heat between your thighs. Slowly, greedily, you began to touch yourself, chasing the ghost of his mouth, his hands, the weight of him. The memory alone made your breath falter.

You were so lost in it that you barely heard the heavy doors creak open.

Your head snapped up.

Zuko stood in the doorway, hair slightly disheveled as though he’d spent the evening dragging frustrated hands through it. His robes hung loose at the collar, and his amber eyes (usually controlled and unreadable in court) darkened the moment they landed on you. Your legs pressed together on reflex.

“Zuko, I—”

He crossed the room without a word.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he climbed onto the bed and moved toward you until he knelt at your side. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face with gentleness before trailing lower, covering the hand you had instinctively hidden between your thighs.

His mouth curved faintly.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured. “Let me see what you do when you think about me.”

Heat flooded your face. Even so, you let him pull your hand away. Your fingers glistened with your own arousal, and his gaze lingered on them for only a moment before he brought them to his lips.

The sight of his tongue sliding across your skin made your stomach tighten.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly, a quiet shudder passing through him, and when he looked back at you, his expression had gone molten.

“Keep touching yourself,” he said under his breath. “I want you looking at me.”

You sank back against the pillows, your robe falling open completely as you obeyed. Silk pooled uselessly around your waist, leaving you bare, thighs parted just enough for him to see the evidence of your arousal between them.

He did not touch you. Instead, he reached down and freed his cock from his trousers, wrapping his fist around the shaft with a low exhale. It was thick and flushed, the head dark and wet. He began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze fixed on your body.

You watched the muscles of his stomach tighten, his lips part and his eyes glaze with lust which was more than enough for your fingers to resume their work, circling your clit with torturous slowness, matching his pace. A curl of steam escaped his lips. The sight of it sent a shiver through you.

"Zu—"

“Keep going,” he said, the words leaving his mouth in a breath warm enough to send another thin ribbon of heat through the air between you.

Your robes had long since ceased to be clothing. They were forgotten fabric, silk tangled around your elbows, bunched beneath your shoulders, clinging to the damp curve of your ribs like a second skin soaked through with sweat. The firelight around you caught the glisten on your collarbone, on your stomach, on the insides of your thighs. The heat from his mouth and his breathing turned the air thick and wet.

Your hair was everywhere, against the pillows, strands plastered to your temples, a few stuck to the corner of your lips. You hadn’t bothered to push them away. You couldn’t. Your hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, your body growing steadily more restless beneath the weight of his attention.

“Faster,” he groaned softly, and his hand moved quicker on his cock. “Don’t even dare to slow down.”

You increased your rhythm, wet sounds filling the space between your ragged breaths. His strokes grew more urgent, and so did yours, each of you chasing the same release. Your waist was pressed flat to the mattress, your hips tilted up just slightly, enough to offer yourself fully. Your thighs were open wide, the muscles shaking, knees bent and falling apart. Your feet were planted on the bed, heels digging into the rumpled linen, toes curled as you arched into each stroke of your fingers.

"That's it," he rasped, his voice strained. "Don't look away. I want to see you, you look so ruined and beautiful, touching yourself in front of me."

Your thighs trembled harder, falling open as pleasure dragged through you in waves. Every movement of your fingers sent another pulse of heat through your body, tightening low in your belly until it almost hurt.

His hips began to thrust into his own fist, his composure cracking, his forehead beaded with sweat.

"Zuko… I'm so close," you whimpered, your fingers working desperately.

"Then come for me," he commanded, his strokes becoming erratic, matching the wild rhythm of your own. "Now."

Your body obeyed, convulsing as the orgasm broke over you, your cry dissolving into his name like a prayer. Your hips jerked against your hand as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Through blurred vision, you saw Zuko break with you.

A strained groan left him as his head tipped back, his hand pumping desperately before he spilled across your stomach in hot streaks. He shuddered through the release, heat ghosting from his mouth with every uneven breath.

His eyes never leaving yours, he lowered himself to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you toward his mouth. The first stroke of his tongue through your soaked folds made your back curve against the mattress beneath you.

“Oh, lord…” you moaned softly.

“Yes, love?” he said smugly, the heat of his breath surrounding your aching thighs in slow waves. “If you started without me, it’s only fair that I finish it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue returned deeper and devastating. He began to feast on you, his grunts and the wet sounds of his devotion filling the room. He devoured you like a man starved, lapping at your folds, sucking your clit between his lips, pushing his tongue inside you until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders all over again.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

With an unhasty push, he sank into you. The sudden fullness drew a shaky breath from both of your lungs. His hips rolled forward, each movement agonizingly committed, thick as he rode along your inner walls before withdrawing almost entirely. After the razor-thin margin of the mission, the sheer survival adrenaline was mutating into something dangerous, making the friction of his skin feel magnified tenfold.

Your fingers curled into the edge of the blanket.

Outside, footsteps crunched on dirt, faint voices from the surrounding tents flowed closer. Zuko’s breath scalded the back of your neck as he buried his face there, his teeth grazing your skin, testing the boundary of a bite.

The pressure built too fast. You let out a ragged sigh that caught on the edge of a moan as you clamped tight around him, desperate to swallow every inch of the next stroke.

“Come on,” he whispered the complaint against your throat. “They’re right outside…”

His free hand slid down between your thighs, his palm cupping you, his fingers slicking over your clit to mirror the torturous pace of his hips. Your hand tangled into his hair, pulling hard enough to root him there, the scorching urge to scream building behind your ribs. The wet, rhythmic slip of skin on skin was barely louder than the rustle of the travel mat beneath you, but every micro-shift felt deafening. Another weak sound split your lips.

"Bury your face," he mumbled against your skin. His jaw was locked, the muscles in his shoulders taut with the effort of keeping his pace measured when his pulse was clearly racing. "If you make a sound, I have to stop. And I really, really don't want to stop…”

He kept the depth exact, rocking forward until he was seated fully against you, pausing to let the ache build before sliding out again. Every long plunge sent sparks up your spine. His finger pressing just enough to make your thighs shudder.

You whimpered, your head tossing back against his shoulder. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Just breathe. Let me take care of it."

Sweat gathered where your bodies locked together. Zuko’s hand left your center to grip the bone of your hip, his fingers digging in to hold you steady as he drove in deeper.

A loud sound threatened to rip from your throat. A reckless, desperate wave crashed over you…

You didn’t care if the canvas ripped, you didn’t care if the whole camp walked in, as long as he didn't pull away. You needed the ruin of it. You needed him to keep moving.

Sense left you, your hips rolling back against his in an open invitation to get caught.

“You’re killing me…” Zuko breathed.

His palm covered your mouth, firm enough to smother the high cry that followed his next deep and unraveled thrust.

“Bite down if you need to,” he said against the shell of your ear, his control cracking as his hips finally lost their cadence, driving into you with a hard desperation that matched your own. “Just don't make a sound…”