Untitled

“Ladies.” A voice cuts through the conversation, your eyes landing upon a stranger with a familiar face. Amber eyes, the color of morning sunrise, bearing a scar of scarlet on his left eye, a face that seemingly belonged to the awkward, moody boy you remembered sitting across from you at the library during lunch, a book at hand while he grumbled to himself. You remembered paying him no mind, probably a reader who would voice his grievances aloud. Now that the teenager has become a man, his features have sharpened into a visage befitting a model in a custom-made suit with burgundy and gold trim, dark tresses bound in a man-bun.

Time couldn’t possibly make a teenager, out of all people, glow up not once, but three times in the span of five years; you’ve practically seen transformation after transformation with Zuko, his hair being the highlight of such. Now, you theorized that this man before you was his final evolution, with luscious locks and a jawline sharp enough to kill somebody.

You let out a quiet gasp; once upon a time, earlier in your career, you wrote a mystery novel featuring a cast of characters, including a CEO, haunted by family trauma from when he was a boy, and Zuko, who looked every inch of the character you wrote. You swallow a bout of heat, a prickling sensation traveling down your groin and between your legs.

Suki and Yue sneak glances at you, giggling among themselves before greeting Zuko.

“President Zuko, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Yue extends a hand in greeting, and Zuko shakes it firmly, a civil exchange between CEOs.

“President Yue, to think I’d meet with the current president of the Moon Rabbit Enterprises. Your cosmetics are groundbreaking with the younger people.”

“Thank you, President Zuko. I try my best to appeal to everyone.”

The exchange of flattery is a common sight between fellows in the corporate realm; you almost forgot to provide your salutation to the President.

“[Reader], novelist with a few published works under my belt. I’m currently working on my latest one at the moment.”

A smile flashes on Zuko’s lips - a deadly charm that sends your heart racing a million miles a minute. You shake a firm hand, catching a whiff of strong essence emanating from him - rich cologne of ember, chestnut, and pine that indeed gravitated your gaze to him.

“Charmed, [Reader]. I’ve read your works. They’re incredible.”

Who’d thought Zuko, out of all people, had read your works? You reeled in your thoughts - wait, he reads my works, plural?!

You mask your surprise with a bashful expression,

“I’m flattered you’ve read my works, Mr. CEO of Phoenix Conglomerate.”

“I’m looking forward to your next piece, Miss Writer.”

To think that a former classmate, much less the leader of all things rich, had read your works - a passing thought intrudes to ask him what works he had read, but you opted not to. Years of writing books hadn’t waned your sense of embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best to write to your expectations, Mr. CEO.”

You politely quip, feeling the room temperature rise by ten degrees. Suki is the last to exchange her greetings, introducing herself as a mixed martial arts instructor for teenagers and young adults. Yet, something nagged at you - in your memories, another person accompanied Zuko in his youth, Mai, a tight-lipped girl who everyone in your class collectively agreed not to piss off. Though it may be years since you last saw her, the question trickles out of your lips, clumsy but curious.

“How are things with Mai, Zuko?”

The second you uttered such a question, a profound silence reigned, the room's temperature suddenly dropping to the temperatures of the Poles. Shame replaces the bashfulness you had - maybe that question was too personal to ask of the CEO, perhaps taboo if it were asked by the wrong person.

Amber eyes glaze over, a rueful smile befalls the man's lips.

"We broke up a long time ago."

A confession sends ripples of shock between you and your friends; the admission felt so unreal. Years ago, you remember Zuko and Mai were attached to the hip; Zuko with a possessive hand across Mai's waist or a rumored glimpse of them kissing in the halls when they thought people weren't looking. This latest piece of gossip would surely be the topic of the town for most of your classmates if more were to hear of his admission. Yet, you and your friends were not the gossiping type; your reactions of surprise barely went unnoticed by Zuko.

"It was a long time ago, though. I was a terrible boyfriend to her anyway. Didn't really communicate with her about everything."

Your friends immediately school their expressions, maintaining a sense of sympathy catered to the broken-hearted.

"Oh, Zuko, I'm sorry about that."

Yue is the first to speak up in the group; her kindness is admired even by professionals in her field. Suki speaks next, though her words are more cutting and honest.

"So, Mr. CEO here is on the dating market now?"

"Suki!"

You and Yue scold your friend for daring to ask the very obvious aloud, eliciting a chuckle from Zuko.

"It's alright, it's alright. Yes, I'm very much single. It's already common knowledge. The tabloids have been talking all about it."

You almost deflate, declaring yourself the fool for thinking his relationship status was meant to be kept secret, and at least trying to uphold his dignity. A headache blossoms between your temples - an evening dedicated to a class reunion came with its surprises; not only did you come across a former classmate dressed to the nines as the newly established CEO of a deeply rooted company, a hot and single one at that, but the same person also read your works as well?

This was truly something from your fanfic reading days, or you were already getting tipsy from drinking just a shot of wine.

"Can I get you, ladies, something to eat? I've heard that our hosts, Aang and Katara, made everything themselves."

Who wouldn't resist a platter of good homemade food? You assent, watching his back clothed in rich velvet weave within the crowd. With the CEO gone, your friends cast spare glances of disbelief, your mouths agape at the shocking revelation.

“I knew he was single! I knew it!”

Yue cries victoriously.

“I can’t believe he reads my works!”

You parrot out.

“That explains why Mai has been going to my classes with Ty Lee!”

Suki smacks her hand on her forehead.

“This CEO is a piece of work!”

Your thoughts align with a conclusion to which you all voice out in unison. Each girl, including you, had a piece of processing what Zuko had spoken to you, trying to extrapolate what had transpired between him and Mai in the years you last laid eyes on them, even coming up with theories. Your excited conspiracies later dim as the very subject of your conversation approaches with platters of delectable feats.

“Your dinners, ladies.”

Yue thought it was inappropriate for a CEO to behave like a restaurant waiter; she rushed to the kitchen to grab Zuko a plate. He initially refused, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but at Yue’s insistence, he relented and let the young lady go.

“You don’t have to act so smooth on us ladies now, Zuko.”

Suki perks an eyebrow. You couldn’t help but agree with her sentiment.

“What if I’m just doing it to reconnect with my former classmates? We were all in the same class together, right?”

“It’s a nice gesture, but it could lead to a lot of misunderstandings. I’m sure the paparazzi have already caught you doing that.”

Zuko scoffs,

“What paparazzi? I made sure that no one of that kind takes photos without my permission, and access to the building requires a high level of clearance, too.”

You and Suki exchange wary glances. Either it was the CEO talking or the volatile personality you knew from school, one thing was for certain: Zuko had the foresight of a leader who protected his privacy and his workers in the corporate world.

“Anyway, [Reader], if you don’t mind me asking, has your publisher been doing marketing for your works at all?”

You blink quizzically.

“No, they’re still marketing the first two books I’ve done. They haven’t done anything about my current book lately.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow. Suki couldn’t help but glance in your general direction - somehow intrigued by the sudden attention on you.

“From what I’ve heard from the head of the publisher, they plan to drop you.”

A gasp escapes from your lips before you could comment a singular word. Anxiety grips your being, questions swirling in your mind as you try to speak. Was it because your books weren’t appealing to your audience? Your dignity takes a hit.

“Sorry for bringing up that so suddenly. Your publisher didn’t see worth in telling you, so.. I thought I’d just tell you right now.”

A familiar weariness overcomes you, a feeling you’ve experienced in the instance of a rejection email and when your writing session wasn’t going so well.

“Thanks, Zuko.”

You watch his expression melt into something adjacent to affection and fondness. Pretending not to notice, you retrieve your phone and consult your agent's messages to confirm the developments. Sending a brief text to her, a sigh tumbles from your lips, your shoulders sagging from the weight of the truth. Disbelief wasn’t the best word to describe your reaction; rather, it was a suspended sensation of sorrow that boiled up after years of honing your craft to make your masterpiece known to the world.

“Perhaps,”

Zuko’s voice cuts through your stupor.

“I can help you with finding a new publisher. I have partnered with a publishing company that can help market all of your books, not just your debut books.”

Your lips tug to a relieved smile. It seemed that tonight’s crossroads of fate had brought you into a night of good fortune; first, it was meeting old classmates and reconnecting with them, an old classmate reading your works, and now, a helping hand to your publisher dilemma. You worry if your good luck will run out tomorrow.

“I’ll gladly take you up on the offer, Mr. CEO. Let me know if I need to sign anything beforehand.”

“I can send you the documents right away.”

The look he gives you oozes something from the novels you wrote, charismatic and intense. You dare to look up, only for Suki to clear her throat - a perfect intervention on her part.

“[Reader], if you’re finished flirting with Mr. CEO here, I’d like to grab some drinks?”

The question wasn’t much of a request, but more of a command on her part - just an effort to extract you from Zuko’s clutches. You pardon yourself, not catching the gaze Zuko had given you upon your departure. Suki latches on to you firmly, her voice lowered to a whisper.

“Dude, have you seen the way Zuko looks at you? I think he’s into you.”

“Girl, I’m more bothered about the fact that he owns a publishing company. Like, how?”

Suki blinks once, twice, and perhaps thrice to recalibrate her thoughts. Of course, you had other priorities apart from thinking about Zuko’s relationship status. She takes you by the shoulders, a pose you’ve been in more than once.

“[Reader], I need you to realize this: Zuko might be doing this because he likes you. I’m not sure if his acquiring a publisher might be scary timing, but seriously, think about it.”

You blink cluelessly. Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn to a beautiful face decked in white and blue - Yue smiling sweetly, her hands occupied with flutes of bubbling champagne. You accept a flute, resorting to a small corner of the room to whisper amongst yourselves.

“I take it we’re discussing the man of the hour?”

“Of course, he’s trying to seduce our lovely novelist into signing with his publishing company.”

Now it was Yue’s turn to be confused.

“Zuko has a publishing company?!”

“That’s the same reaction I had earlier! I don’t believe him one bit.”

Your friends return your gaze, your silence startling them.

“Well.. he was right about my publisher for one thing.”

You had checked your phone for a response from your agent, and she had replied quite promptly with a long paragraph. Your friends gather around to decipher the message, the glare of your phone casting pale light across your features.

“Hey, this will be a difficult topic to talk about, so yeah.. You see, the publishers found that your two books brought our company so much in sales that they didn’t want to let you go. But as soon as you were moving on to your next series, they decided it was time for you to be let go from the company. They were going to wait until the end of this year to drop the news on you, but.. I have a feeling someone beat them to it.”

You attempt to answer, as Yue and Suki share concerned glances.

“Those first two novels I’ve written are what I plan to work on. Milking content out of these books would just drag out the story for too long. I think it’s best for me to move on from this project and work on my new book.”

Liquid courage manifested those words to text. You wouldn’t dare voice out such thoughts aloud even if you were sober, but with a little alcohol in your system and some eye candy from tonight’s happenings, the text message came to fruition. Without hesitation, you send it, your friends placing a hand on each shoulder as a sign of courage. You don’t wait for a response; your phone is already in your pocket. For now, you were looking forward to signing that deal with Zuko, especially in light of corporate developments involving your book.

“I’m going to sign with Zuko.”

You declare with finality. Your friends, on the other hand, say nothing save for apprehensive glances before heading back to your table, where Zuko waited patiently. The Zuko you knew from high school would’ve stormed off from waiting too long, his youthful features contorting to a scowl and probably curse a storm off - but this Zuko, seemingly contrasted the boy you knew, waited patiently, his gaze warm and fond, as he inquired softly:

“Have you thought about it?”

Yue and Suki stand close by, putting some distance between you and Zuko while keeping a close eye on Zuko for any tricky business. You, on the other hand, were focused on the CEO before you, the promise of signing up with a new publisher overriding the sense of danger lingering from your friends.

Your former classmate gives you a charming smile, one that melts your heart upon sight. Was he always this attractive, you think to yourself, your lips curling into a smile.

“Yes, and I accept your offer to sign with your publisher.”

“Very well.”

“Please don't. I don't think we can survive whatever she considers 'organized' seating…”

Sighing happily, you stepped up to the high mattress and slipped beneath the heavy blankets. You expected the familiar warmth of your husband, but as your feet slid further under the sheets, they brushed against a tiny, solid lump curled right in the center of the bed.

You jumped back.

“Spirits!”

From the deep shadows of the pillows, a little head with unruly dark tufts popped up. Izumi blinked sleepily at you, a triumphant grin breaking across her face.

“Surprise!”

She held up one of her small hands toward the other side of the bed. Without missing a beat, Zuko leaned over and gave her a high-five.

“Zuko!” you breathed, placing a hand over your racing heart as you settled back down. “What is she doing here again? We talked about this…”

“She had that nightmare about the sea pruners two nights ago,” Zuko said. He reached over, his large hand smoothing down Izumi’s messy hair. “I found her wandering the hall and just picked her up. I didn’t think—”

“But it’s the fourth night in a row,” you interrupted, looking between your husband and your daughter. You moved closer, trying to maintain a firm, motherly tone despite how small and sweet she looked. “Izumi, sweetie, you have a large and beautiful bed of your own. Big girls sleep in their own chambers. We established the bedtime rules for a reason.”

Izumi scrambled across the blankets on all fours, wedging her small frame right into your side. She wrapped her arms tightly around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder.

“But my room is too dark at night, Mama… And it’s lonely. Even the shadows look like monsters!”

You looked up at Zuko, silently pleading for backup, but his expression looked rather sympathetic.

“You know…” Zuko started, a sheepish smile touching his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She actually reminds me of someone else who couldn’t handle sleeping alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who would that be?”

“Druk,” Zuko admitted with a smile.

Izumi’s head popped up, her amber eyes wide with sudden curiosity as she sat back on her heels.

“Wait… Druk? But he’s a giant dragon!”

“Not when he was a hatchling,” Zuko said, moving even closer so the three of you were clustered together. “When the Sun Warriors first entrusted his egg to me, he was very tiny. And the very first week we moved into the palace, he refused to sleep in his enclosure. Every single night, I’d wake up because he had snuck into my room, scaled the bedposts, and curled up right on my chest.”

You stared at your husband, invested in the story as much as Izumi was, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You never told me that!”

“Because it was a disaster,” Zuko laughed. “He was breathing tiny sparks in his sleep. He nearly set my blankets on fire three times. I tried everything to enforce the rules…”

“Like?” Izumi tilted her head.

“Like putting him back, closing the doors… but he’d just wail at the threshold until my ears rang.”

“So how did you fix it?” She asked, completely captivated, her hands resting on Zuko's knee.

“Well, I realized he wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was just used to the warmth of the dragon nests,” Zuko explained, his eyes dropping fondly to his daughter. “So, I built him a smaller, cozier nest right beside my bed with heated fire stones wrapped in blankets. I told him he was a noble dragon, and noble dragons needed their own domain to guard. It took a few nights… but once he realized his nest was safe and that I wasn’t going anywhere, he learned to love his own space.”

Izumi looked at you, then back at Zuko, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

“Is my room my domain?” she asked in a hesitant whisper.

“The grandest one in the residential wing,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Izumi let out a shaky breath. Her small shoulders slumped as she let go of the blanket, untangling herself from the sheets with slow movements. She dragged her feet across the mattress, her head hung low and her lower lip pushed out into a pout.

“Okay…” she said, as she stared at the blankets. “I’ll guard my own domain like Druk. I go back to my bed now.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the high mattress, her small silhouette looking so incredibly fragile in the dim light as she prepared to slide down.

You stared at those small feet, suspended above the floorboards, and a dizzying wave of realization hit you so fast it left you stunned.

‘She was going to jump. She wasn't asking to be carried anymore.’

The thought struck you along with the panic that meant seeing her slipping through your fingers into a big girl's world far too quickly.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets. The strict bedtime rules suddenly felt entirely meaningless… utterly hollow, honestly. And you could make an exception.

“Wait,” you said.

Izumi paused, looking back over her shoulder with hopeful eyes.

From beside you, Zuko turned his head toward you with a curious glance. “What happened?” he asked.

You leaned closer to your husband, your voice dropping to a tender murmur meant only for him.

“I don’t want her to grow up just yet, Zu…”

Turning your gaze back to your daughter, your expression melted into one of your warm smiles.

“How about one last night? You can guard our domain with us, and start fresh tomorrow. You’ve shown you’re a brave princess.”

Izumi’s face lit up.

With a joyful little gasp, she scrambled right back into the center of the bed, throwing herself happily into the space between you both.

Zuko let out a laugh, moving in to close the gap. He slid one arm beneath your neck to pull you close against his side, while his other arm wrapped securely over Izumi's back. You leaned in too, burying your face against Izumi's hair, sandwiching your daughter in a family hug.

“Too tight! I need air!” Izumi giggled, her hands pushing playfully against your shoulders as she squirmed against the tight embrace.

Laughing, you both loosened your grip enough to let her breathe. Izumi didn’t waste time and turned onto her side, rolling over to nestle herself against your chest.

“Mama? Can I—,” she yawned, “have a cuddle while Papa tells the story?” she requested lazily, as the safety of the bed took over.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You moved to tuck yourself against Zuko’s side, resting your hand over his steady heartbeat while keeping your daughter securely in your arms still between you two.

Zuko pressed a kiss to your temple, his breath brushing your skin before he looked down at your daughter. In a soothing cadence he had mastered, he began. “Long ago, before the Caldera walls were built, there was a sleepy little turtle-duck who lived in the royal gardens, and he had a very important secret…”

note: i looooved this request!! 🥹💕lowkey gave it my own twist but i hope you like it, anon! i felt like writing something cozy to post while i work on some of the heavier emotional requests. xx

Twenty minutes later there's a knock at your apartment door. When you open it, Zuko is standing there in a black hoodie with a backpack slung over one shoulder glancing at you.

"Hey," he says with a small smile.

"Hey." A small smile tugs at your mouth.

He brushes past you into the apartment and the familiar scent of rain and his cologne follows him inside. As always, he makes your place feel less empty. Zuko drops his backpack near the couch and pulls out a rolling tray.

You flop down beside him before speaking up. "You're such a good friend, coming over to hang out with me."

"Are we friends?” He asked with raised eyebrows.

"I mean… you're my friend."

“So you have no friends?" He asked teasingly, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I never said that," you chuckle. He looks annoyingly pleased with himself while he starts rolling. You watch for a while in silence before taking a deep breath. 

"I had a terrible day," you say quietly.

"Figured,” he mumbled.

"What does that mean?"

Without looking up he says, "You used like three exclamation points in your text."

You snort. "That's how you knew?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

You hate that he's right. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he finishes rolling and hands the blunt over, taking his lighter out for you and clicks it. The tip glows orange as you hold the blunt to your lips and take your first hit. 

The two of you settle into the couch and Zuko turns the TV on but neither of you is paying attention. You take a look at the dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders are hunched.

"Tough week?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Hm," he nods, reaching over to steal the blunt from your hand. 

You make an offended noise."Hey!” 

"Relax sweetheart,” he responds smoothly. He takes a hit and hands it back, tilting his head back on the couch, blowing the smoke up. Then he grabs the blanket folded on the armrest and tosses it over your lap.

"Thanks," you murmur.

"Did you eat?" he asks, scrolling on his phone. You groan, “Always with the mom questions," you say teasingly.

"Did you?" He eyes you curiously.

"...Maybe…" you trail off grinning and he rolls his eyes, ordering burgers and fries before stealing the blunt from you again. Most of the blunt eventually burned away between the two of you and you're feeling pleasantly relaxed, head tipped back against the cushions.

Zuko is scrolling through his phone again. You watch him for a moment before a thought occurs to you.

"Am I your favorite customer?" you ask almost timidly. 

"When was the last time you paid?" Zuko asks.

You burst out laughing before responding. "That's not an answer."

"It kinda is."

"Zuko, you never even let me pay," you chuckle.

He finally glances up from his phone with an eyebrow raised. "You keep trying," he shrugs.

"Because that's how buying things works," you put the died out blunt in the ashtray on your coffee table. "You are literally the worst businessman ever."

"Good thing I'm not a businessman," he responds curtly.

You roll your eyes. "Then what are you?"

"Tired," he states before his attention returns to his phone. You laugh again at his detached tone and you could have sworn you saw his lips twitch up. 

"See? You smiled."

"I didn't," he rolls his eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh before tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

"You're annoying,” he states, 

"But am I your favorite customer?"

Zuko looks at you for a long second before responding. "You're barely a customer. When people pay for stuff, they're customers."

Your grin grows. "Oh? So am I your friend?" you ask mischievously. 

"You mostly just steal my food and complain," 

"I do not complain,"you mumble under your breath. 

Zuko shakes his head.

"You know," you say, nudging his foot with yours, "that still doesn't answer the question."

He groans. "You're really gonna keep asking?"

"Yep," you nod with an infuriating grin across your face. 

"Yeah, " he mutters under his breath, barely even coherent. 

“Sorry, can you speak up?” You lean over, tilting your head so that your ear faces him. 

"Yeah," he mumbles again a little louder. 

"Yeah?" you repeat his words, purposely trying to tick him off.

His face scrunches up in regret of answering. "Don't make it weird," he states. 

"Aww, Zuko," you drawl, playfully nudging his shoulder.

"Don't," he warns.

"I'm your favorite," you giggle.

"You're annoying," he states.

"But I'm your favorite annoying customer," you say in a singsong voice, wiggling your brows. 

Zuko drops his head back against the couch cushions with a groan. "You're also my biggest headache." Despite the complaint, you notice he doesn't move his foot away from where it's touching yours.

The food arrives and Zuko is quick to jump out of the couch to get it. He sets the bag down on the coffee table, emptying it out, and handing you your burger. You weren’t sure if it was because you were high that the burger tasted so good but it disappeared just as quickly as it was handed to you. Although you were given your own box of fries, you still steal some of his. He complains of course, and you steal more.

At some point your head ends up resting against the couch cushion beside his shoulder and  your eyes start getting heavy. The apartment grows quiet and comfortable.

"I'm glad you came over, " you mumble, stuffing your face full of his fries.

"Yeah, me too,” he murmurs, taking a bite out of his half eaten burger. 

You glance over and he's looking at the TV pretending to pay attention but there's the smallest hint of a smile on his face. You’re happy Zuko showed up, just like he always does.

“Yue, I’ll have to look at the dates of the proposed press releases when I’m back in the office—BUT—I want to stress that I hear you, girl. It’s a lot going on all at once. You have a big move coming up and you’re going through writer's block, and all the things in between. Take this time to focus on you and I’ll handle everything else!” you instruct, your voice full of comfort and warmth, despite the fact you’re multitasking as you do one final overview in your compact mirror.

There’s a deep sigh of relief from the other end of your speaker, followed by the quiet sound of sniffling. “Y/n, you’re the best editor to ever exist in the whole wide world and I know you got a man now, but I love you so much,” her confession is said in between sniffles and it makes you giggle.

“I love you too, Yue! You’re my favorite writer ever and I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. Anyhow, enjoy your vacation time and we’ll chat business in two weeks?”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun ogling at Mr. Corporate,” she squeaks out before hanging up.

You chuckle, tossing your phone into the passenger seat. After checking your lip gloss one last time in the rearview mirror, you shift the car into drive. You pull out of the side street parking spot you’d dipped into to take her call, steering back into the midday traffic.

Your destination is the new rooftop restaurant you casually mentioned to Zuko in passing just a few days ago. Next thing you know, in true, attentive Zuko fashion, he adjusts his schedule and books a lunch date for the two of you to try it out.

The car comes to a smooth halt in the bustling valet line. The restaurant sits right atop a popular hotel, adding to the heavy foot traffic around you. Gathering your purse and phone, you offer the valet attendant a bright smile as they jog over and open your door.

“Thank you!” you say, stepping out into the warm air. They hand you a small red ticket, which you slide safely into your bag, your stomach doing a little nervous flip of anticipation. Despite dating for a while now, you always get a bit nervous before seeing him in public. And it's only escalated despite the sex seal being decimated and cremated, you are in what feels like a constant state of ovulation. Wanting him. Needing him. His smallest actions and mannerisms always have you ready to drag him to the nearest flat surface and just have your way with him. He smiles at you? You’re soaked. His hand brushes against you? You’re soaked. He is drinking his tea? You’re soaked. It’s an unfamiliar cycle of just being perpetually horny for a man you find overly attractive.

You shake your head, trying to collect yourself as you make your way through the grand, marble-floored lobby of the hotel, heading straight for the sleek glass elevators designated for the rooftop. Standing inside as the elevator shoots upward, you take a second to check your reflection in the polished mirrored walls, smoothing down your outfit.

You are aiming for a chic, effortless look today. A black SKIMS capri-catsuit, an oversized cream button-up purposefully left unbuttoned, cream kitten heels, and gold accessories to complement the gold hardware on your cream shoulder bag. You look damn good. You feel damn good—even your hair is cooperating as your silk press flows like water around your shoulders.

Once the elevator doors open, you step out and take a left down a hallway that’s flanked with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and an open window in the ceiling, letting natural light brighten up the space beautifully. You wink at yourself as you pass the mirrors and reach the hostess stand.

The young woman behind the podium looks up, and her eyes instantly track your outfit from your silk press down to your cream kitten heels. There is a brief, unmistakable flicker of awe in her expression, immediately followed by a slight squint of confusion. It's that classic, elitist look, as if she's trying to calculate exactly how a baddie in a bodysuit fits into the hotel's stiff corporate vibe, or if you simply wandered onto the wrong floor.

You don't give her the satisfaction of letting her hesitate.

"Hi, good afternoon," you say smoothly, clutching your cream and gold purse a little tighter under your arm. "I'm joining a Mr. Ryu."

The confusion on the hostess's face vanishes instantly, replaced by a wide, well-trained smile. "Right this way, ma'am."

You follow her through the main dining room, and you immediately clock the vibe. It is pure, unfiltered elitist energy. The space is packed with men in expensive tailored suits and older women who look like they belong to an exclusive country club board—very Martha Stewart, very stiff money. It is the kind of room meant to make outsiders feel small, but it doesn't break your stride for a second. You belong anywhere you set your kitten heels down.

Instead of paying attention to the staring patrons, you focus on the interior design. The restaurant is stunning, heavily utilizing lush, cascading greenery against sleek gold accents that catch the natural light from the high ceilings.

The hostess guides you out onto the expansive open terrace, and the layout immediately catches your eye. The right side is bustling, packed tight with patrons chattering over lunch. The left side, however, is completely vacant. It's a ghost town.

As you follow her down the empty left path, you realize why. There, sitting at a prime table right by the glass edge overlooking the sprawling city and the dramatic, cloudy gray sky, is Zuko. He literally bought out or reserved an entire half of a rooftop just for a casual lunch date.

Hearing the signature click of your heels against the terrace flooring, he turns his head. The professional, stoic mask he usually wears melts away, a wide smile breaking across his face the second he finally sees the object of his affection standing right in front of him.

His sharp corporate jacket is draped neatly over the back of his chair, his dark hair is pulled up into a sleek, precise bun, and he smells faintly of expensive cologne and the rich tea sitting on the table.

He doesn't even let you reach the table before he stands up, stepping into your space and pulling you flush against him into a warm, grounding hug. His hand rests firmly against the small of your back, slipping underneath your button-up and right against the fabric of your one-piece.

"Hi, princess," he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and full of that heavy, exclusive affection he only ever gives to you.

You melt into him for a second, but the humor in the situation brings a smirk to your lips. Pulling back just enough to look at him, you tilt your head and look around the completely empty half of the terrace. "Mr. Zuko," you tease, your voice dripping with playful amusement. "Did you seriously clear out an entire section of a restaurant just for a quick lunch?"

Zuko doesn't even look remotely guilty. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second, sending that familiar, electric jolt straight to your core, before he meets your eyes with a shrug.

"I didn't have any plans on sharing my space with other people today," he admits easily, his thumb lightly stroking your waist. "Not when I only have you for a limited amount of time before I have to get back to the office."

You lock your arms tighter around him, straining on your tippy toes to plant a firm kiss right on his lips. “Love when you get selfish about me,” you hum against his mouth, pulling back just enough to offer an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m late. Yue had a crisis and I’m not a good multitasker when running an intervention.”

Zuko hums, his hands resting heavily on your hips as he easily anchors you against his taller frame. A fond, knowing glint enters his eyes at the mention of your favorite writer.

“Is she alright?” he asks, his thumb tracing a slow circle against the black fabric of your catsuit. Even when he's being a possessive corporate mogul, he's inherently a protector, always genuinely caring about the people in your circle.

“She’s fine, just classic pre-move panic mixed post-break up and a splash of severe writer's block,” you explain, finally letting yourself drop back down onto the flats of your kitten heels. “I told her to take two weeks off and let me handle the chaos. But enough about work.”

You step back slightly, intentionally letting his gaze drop to fully appreciate the look you put together for him. His eyes darken instantly, taking in the way the form-fitting material hugs every single one of your curves, contrasted by the casual elegance of your unbuttoned cream shirt and the gleaming gold jewelry at your throat and ankle.

The professional man who just bought out half a rooftop is suddenly looking at you like he wants to skip lunch entirely. The intensity of his gaze makes your smile widen—mulling over your outfit for two hours was worth the brain power and stress when your man is looking at you like he’s ready to buy out the whole building for a bit more privacy for his next course of actions.

He lets out a quiet, breathy chuckle, his eyes lingering on the shimmer applied to your collarbone before he finally lets his hands slip from your hips. Stepping behind your chair, he pulls it out for you with practiced elegance. Once you get settled, he smoothly pushes it back in, leaning down to plant a soft kiss right against your cheek. His breath deepening slightly against your skin as he catches the scent of your perfume.

“You look rather stunning to say you were just handling a crisis,” he murmurs near your ear, his voice laced with a reverence that makes your legs press closer together.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning like a fool as he sits in his chair beside you. The moment he gets comfortable again, a waiter seamlessly appears from the edge of the terrace. Without a word, a crisp glass of ice water with a fresh slice of lime and a tall, condensation-beaded sparkling strawberry lemonade are placed right beside your cream and gold bag.

In true Zuko fashion, he pre-ordered your drink when he ordered his.

You pick up the sparkling lemonade, the cool glass a welcome relief against your hands as you look across the table at him. He is already reaching for his cup of hot tea, taking a slow sip while his eyes lock onto yours over the rim.

You smile around the straw, silently hoping the sweet drink will cool off the slut brewing inside you.

He just looks too enticing.

“How has the rest of your morning been?” Zuko asks, setting his tea back down on its saucer with a quiet clink. He rests his forearms on the table, leaning in slightly, completely focused on you.

“Busy,” you admit, taking another sip of your lemonade. “I had a mountain of paperwork to clear this morning before Yue called. And I have plans to go shopping with Suki after lunch.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow in silent question.

“One of the girls on her dance team is having a birthday dinner tonight,” you explain, leaning forward in your chair and resting your chin in your hand. “Suki’s trying to drag me along. I told her I might go, but honestly…” Your eyes trace the sharp line of his jawline, dropping down to the plush curve of his lips. “…I would love nothing more than to just skip it, curl up in bed, and rub my cold feet all over you instead. I do have plans on joining them for her daytime activity though! It’s golf lessons with a private instructor.”

A faint, amused smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his dark eyes darkening with a sudden, heavy heat. But before he can comment on your favorite bedtime ritual, his smirk fades into something a bit more intense. He notices the way your gaze hasn't left his lips since you started talking.

He leans closer a fraction of an inch, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling register that makes the hairs on your arms stand up. “Princess,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours with demanding intensity. “Why do you keep staring at my mouth?”

His question makes you inhale sharply, and a wicked grin pulls at your lips as you lean further into his space, until the scent of his green tea and delicious cologne infiltrate your senses. “Because I want it on me…any other questions officer?”

Your raw honesty stuns him. Derailing his ability to form a quick-witted response, so you go further–obviously.

“I’m trying to act right, but you’re just looking too fine for me to think about anything other than getting a hotel room for lunch instead of an order of crab cakes,” you continue, eyes lazily scanning the menu and finding a twinge of sadness to not see him on it.

The executive who just spent his morning managing millions of dollars and hundreds of employees is completely thrown off balance by a girl in a bodysuit telling him she wants him for lunch. 

You take a slow, agonizingly deliberate sip of your sparkling strawberry lemonade, watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows hard. He shakes his head, a look of amusement finally overtaking his stunned expression. “You are one of a kind, princess…and as enticing as that sounds, I’d need more than forty-five minutes with you to feel satisfied and the aftermath I have plans on leaving you in will ruin the rest of your ambitions for the day,” 

A sudden, sharp heat rushes straight to your core at his words, your grip tightening around the cool glass of lemonade. Hearing the man of your dreams casually detail exactly how thoroughly he plans on ruining you, while sitting under the bright daylight of a luxury hotel terrace, makes your legs lock tightly together beneath the table. 

Before you can retort, challenge, and demand he clear his schedule for the day, the waiter returns. He sets down a lovely tray of crab cakes and a basket of fresh artisanal bread. 

You stare down at the perfectly golden, crisp appetizers, then slowly look back up across the table. You roll your eyes, a smug, highly amused grin pulling at your glossed lips as you rest your chin in your hand.

"Crab cakes," you tease, your voice dipping into a mix of awe and wonder. "Let me guess. You looked at the menu the exact second you arrived and knew exactly what would get me right?"

Zuko doesn't look even remotely ashamed. He picks up his linen napkin, smoothing it over his lap, a devastatingly handsome smirk playing on his plush lips as he meets your stare.

"I know what you like, princess," he admits easily, his rough, gravelly voice totally unbothered by the waiter's presence. He reaches out with a set of tongs, placing a perfect crab cake onto your small plate with practiced elegance. "So, I figured I’d save you the trouble of reading or contemplating."

You pick up your fork, flaking off a small, steaming piece of the crab cake, but your eyes never leave his. "You think you know exactly what I want, whenever I want it?" 

Zuko pauses, his gold eyes a dangerous abyss as he tracks the movement of your mouth. He leans his forearms flat on the white tablecloth, closing the distance between you until the scent of your soft perfume is all he can smell.

"I know you wanted a hotel room thirty seconds ago," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, predatory rumble meant strictly for your ears. "And I know that right now, you're trying to use a fork to distract yourself from how wet you are under this table. Am I wrong?"

His blunt observation hits you like a tidal wave. It’s a completely accurate read, and it’s one he’s stated with pride in a public space. You glance quickly to the side, checking to make sure the waiter has fully vanished back into the main dining room, but the left side of the terrace remains an absolute ghost town—completely vacant, completely silent, leaving you entirely at his mercy.

"Zuko, you are no good," you whisper-hiss, your fingers tightening around the silver handle of your fork until your knuckles turn white. "We are in public."

"And I bought out half the rooftop precisely so I could say whatever I want to you, princess," he reminds you smoothly.

He doesn't look even remotely flustered. Instead, he maintains his professional composure, looking every part of a corporate mogul and old money—while he casually dissects exactly how unraveled you are beneath the tablecloth. 

You clear your throat, trying to overturn the power dynamic that just put you on your ass. But the smartass in you is coming up short the longer you hold his gaze, so you concede. 

“One of us needs to be an adult, so I shall take on that role. Drink your tea and lock-in, good looking,” you pause, grin widening as you break another piece of crab cake off. “Can’t have your employees thinking your girlfriend put witchcraft on you and now you’re canceling meetings when in reality you just can't get enough of me.” 

Zuko pauses, his teacup halfway to his lips as your wicked response lands between you. For a fraction of a second, his striking gold eyes widen in genuine, caught-off-guard surprise before a quiet chuckle bubbles up from deep inside his chest. He shakes his head, setting the cup back onto its saucer with a soft, authoritative clink.

"Witchcraft," he repeats smoothly, his voice dropping into a register so deep it makes you hyperaware of the arousal building in your seamless underwear. The thin material never stood a chance with him, and you should have known that when picking them out. "Is that what we're calling it now, princess?"

"I mean, look at you," you mumble softly around your next bite of crab cake, utterly delighted by the fact that you managed to off-center his composure even a little bit. "You’re completely unfocused. The mogul who manages hundreds of people, is currently negotiating his entire afternoon schedule just because his girlfriend wore a catsuit to lunch."

He raises his eyebrow, head cocking to the side as he mulls over your statement. His gaze drops down to appreciate the outfit you so carefully put together for him this morning, one more time. “She wore a catsuit and then proceeded to tell me that she wants to have me for lunch…I think that would make any man in his right mind reconsider the importance of quarter three reports…and since we’re being adults all of a sudden, stop eye-fucking me so we can go back to behaving accordingly.” 

You try to break his gold gaze, to force your eyes down to your plate, but the sheer, magnetic pull of his presence keeps you completely locked in place. "I am behaving accordingly," you attempt to mumble back, but your voice is entirely too soft, carrying a breathless, betraying tremor that completely ruins your defense.

"You aren't," Zuko rumbles smoothly. He takes a slow, meticulous sip of his hot green tea, his eyes never once unlocking from yours over the porcelain rim. He sets the cup back down on its saucer, leaning back into his chair with a dominant grace that makes your core clamp down in a desperate ache. "You’ve been tracking my mouth for the last ten minutes, princess. You're sitting there trying to play the adult, but you're practically counting down the hours until I can finally put my hands on you."

He’s right.You know he’s right. He knows he’s right. 

And yet, your brain still works overtime to craft a comeback, to try and make you feel a semblance of control, despite when being in his presence, control is the last thing you want and it’s the last thing you even try to hold on too. You let him have it. You want him to have it…and god does he. 

The words die in your throat as the scent of steak and sweet potatoes hits you. You turn your head to the side to see the waiter setting a tray down on a tray stand. Your mouth opens slightly at the sight. He’s taken care of your entire order before, so it shouldn’t surprise you to see him having done it again—and yet every time it leaves you breathless. 

The waiter steps up to the table with practiced, silent professionalism, lifting the silver domes to reveal the perfectly seared steak, glistening under a rich reduction, alongside a side of fragrant, roasted sweet potatoes. The rich, savory aroma completely floods the space between you, providing a temporary shield against the suffocating sexual tension Zuko just built up.

You turn your full attention back to the man who’s made you speechless for the third time in a matter of fifteen minutes. He’s adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up neatly until they’re out of the danger zone for food to splash on them.

“Will you be needing anything else before I bring out dessert?” the waiter asks, setting a fresh cup of tea beside Zuko and clearing the remnants of the appetizer.

“No, thank you. We’re all set,” Zuko states smoothly. He carefully moves his own entree, a steakhouse wedge salad, to the side and lifts your plate, settling it down directly in front of himself as he calmly starts cutting your steak into bite-sized pieces. 

You sit there, your chin resting back in your hand, watching the rhythmic, precise movement of his hands. The heavy silver of the steak knife glints in the overcast midday light as he slices through the tender meat with an effortless, practiced grace. He doesn’t look up immediately, completely focused on making sure every single piece is perfect for you.

The silence that stretches between you isn't heavy anymore; it's warm, and intensely intimate, completely cordoned off from the rest of the bustling rooftop.

"You're ridiculous," you murmur softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them, laced with a helpless affection that completely gives you away.

Zuko pauses for a fraction of a second, the corner of his lips twitching upward into a faint, knowing smile. He finishes the last cut, smoothly switches the plates back, and slides the perfectly prepared steak and sweet potatoes right back into your space.

"I'm attentive," he corrects smoothly, picking up his own fork and knife to tackle his wedge salad. His eyes finally lift, locking onto yours with a heavy, steady gaze over the table. "There’s a difference, princess. Now eat. You’ve had a chaotic morning, and I’m not letting you leave this table running on nothing but strawberry lemonade and adrenaline."

You pick up your fork, popping a perfectly sized, savory piece of steak into your mouth. The rich reduction melts on your tongue, and you can’t help but let out a soft, satisfied hum, intentionally holding his stare as you chew.

"Alright, fine, it’s delicious," you concede, tilting your head. "So, what does my important boyfriend have left on his to-do list today?"

“Important,” he muses. A smile pulling at his cheeks as he watches you happily wiggle in your chair while eating. Very reminiscent of the morning you sat at his island eating greasy fries to fight against a raging hangover all those months ago. 

You nod, “You know, I was talking to my mom on the phone and she asked what you did for work—imagine her horror when I had no idea. I told her I assume it’s something important and grand based on your lifestyle and then she asked if you were a sugar baby…I–I” your words get lost as you watch his face turn into one of absolute horror. 

Your laughter rings out clear and bright across the vacant left side of the terrace, a sharp, joyful sound that completely shatters the teasing aura Zuko had been cultivating just moments before. You cover your mouth with your hand, your shoulders shaking helplessly as you watch the utter, catastrophic meltdown of his dignity.

Zuko sits entirely frozen, his fork hovering an inch above his wedge salad. For three agonizing seconds, the great corporate mogul looks like he’s just been short-circuited. His eyes are wide, blinking in sheer, unadulterated disbelief as his brain desperately tries to process the phrase sugar baby.

"A... what?" he finally chokes out, his gravelly voice cracking slightly in a rare, beautiful display of complete vulnerability.

"A sugar baby!" you gasp out between giggles, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of your eye, completely delighted by how thoroughly you've just broken him. "She said, and I quote, 'Y/n, if he doesn't have a real job and he's just spending some older woman's inheritance, you need to find a man with a steady tax bracket.'"

Zuko slowly lowers his fork, the silver clicking sharply against his plate. The faint crimson flush of pure embarrassment creeps up his tanned neck, staining his cheeks as he glares at you across the white tablecloth. He adjusts the cuffs of his shirt, trying and failing to summon the terrifying executive presence that usually commands entire boardrooms.

"A steady tax bracket?" he repeats, his voice a dangerous, deeply offended rumble that only makes you laugh harder. He leans across the table, his gold eyes blazing with a mix of utter exasperation and helpless affection. "Princess, I am the steady tax bracket. I manage a global portfolio. My family legacy built half the infrastructure in this district alone, don’t even get me started on the global network I oversee. I do not... I am not anyone's sugar baby."

"I know, I know!" you tease, taking another delighted sip of your strawberry lemonade to calm your burning chest. You lean forward, offering him a highly unprincipled, wicked wink. "But honestly, Zuko? With that face, those lips, and the way you look in a tailored suit... if the whole executive thing doesn't pan out, you definitely have the credentials for it. I might even sponsor you myself."

Zuko’s jaw sets into a rock-hard line, but the dangerous, predatory smirk slowly returns to his full lips, his eyes darkening into that familiar hue that promises trouble.

"Sponsor me?" he murmurs smoothly, he hooks his foot to the leg of your chair, skillfully pulling you in closer until the arm rest of your chair grazes his own. He leans in until the scent of his expensive cologne completely replaces the crisp afternoon air, his rough voice a low, husky promise meant strictly for your ears. ""You want to talk about sponsorships, princess? I could fund your entire life, your favorite writer's publishing house, and your next ten shopping sprees with Suki right now, and it wouldn't even shift a single comma in my bank account." 

Your mouth drops. Eyes wide. Thoughts empty. 

You’re aware that he’s well off. Aware that everything he owns, every room he enters, it’s because of his hard work. The multiple degrees in his home office support that notion. Financially though, you just kind of put him in the rich category, but maybe he belongs in the wealthy one. 

You blink, staring at him as the sheer magnitude of his words hangs in the warm afternoon air. The playful, smart-aleck retort you had queued up completely evaporates, leaving you utterly speechless under his steady, golden gaze. For the first time all lunch, you are entirely out of cards to play. He slowly reaches over, his large, warm hand flat against the white tablecloth as he uses two fingers to gently tap the underside of your jaw, nudging your mouth closed. The lingering heat of his touch against your skin feels like a brand, sending a sharp, electric jolt straight down to your clit.

"Now," Zuko rumbles, leaning back into his chair with a slow, dominant grace that commands the entire empty side of the terrace. He picks up his fork, casually gesturing to your plate. "Eat your steak. Because if you keep staring at me with your thoughts completely empty like that, I’m going to skip the corporate formalities, sign the check, and handle the rest of our afternoon in the penthouse suite of this hotel."

You swallow hard, finally forcing your hands to pick up your fork again. If you don't look busy, he’s actually going to drag you to the lobby, and your underwear cannot take any more teasing.

You stab a piece of perfectly roasted sweet potato, but instead of eating it right away, you point the fork slightly in his direction, your eyes narrowing as a newfound curiosity breaks through your shock.

"Okay, financial flex aside," you start, your voice returning with a slightly breathless, velvety quality. "What do you actually do all day in that high-rise office, Zuko? I know it's a global asset firm, but give me the day-to-day. Because right now, I’m picturing a mix of shadow operations and absolute corporate villainy."

The predatory heat in his eyes softens just a fraction into a calm, fiercely intelligent glint. He loves when you ask about his world, especially when you're genuinely trying to look past the intimidating luxury of it all.

"It's a mix of a few things, princess," he starts, leaning his forearms back on the table, completely closing the distance between you again. "Mainly, it’s tech acquisitions and venture capital expansion. If a massive tech start-up or an emerging AI infrastructure firm needs a billion dollars to go global, they come to my team. I dissect their entire operations, find the flaws, and rewrite their future. We acquire the companies that have potential, restructure them from the ground up, and absorb them into our portfolio."

He pauses, a slow, incredibly sharp smirk playing on his lips as he watches you try to process the sheer scale of what he casually calls a "day job."

"And when I'm not doing that? I'm handling sovereign wealth funds and risk management," he continues smoothly,  as his eyes lazily trace the line of your collarbone. "Essentially, foreign governments and massive old-money estates trust my firm to invest and protect their generational wealth. I sit in boardrooms and make decisions that dictate market trends before the public even knows they're happening. It’s high-stakes, highly volatile, and incredibly demanding."

He tilts his head, his gold eyes locking back onto yours with a sudden, devastatingly heavy warmth. "But it doesn't compare to the risk management I have to perform when my girlfriend shows up to lunch in a catsuit."

You roll your eyes playfully at his comment, your free hand slipping from the table to his thigh now that you’re close enough. “So... tech acquisitions, global asset restructuring, and keeping foreign governments rich. Got it,” you pause gaze shifting to the open skies and then back to him. “ Is it bad of me to say that I’m happy to hear that when you see me you actually consider risking it all?” 

Zuko’s breath catches, the steady, rhythmic movement of his hands instantly halting at your soft confession. Your palm is warm against the heavy fabric of his trousers, but it's your words that completely throw him off balance. For a long, unblinking moment, the powerful executive who dictates market trends for a living looks completely defenseless. 

He doesn't answer you right away. He just stares at you, his burning gold eyes searching your face, tracing the curve of your lips, before snapping back to hold your gaze with a heavy, unblinking gravity. “No,” he responds softly. His large, warm palm slides down off the table, his fingers spreading wide as he firmly covers your hand on his thigh, squeezing your fingers with a possessive, deeply grateful certainty. 

Your smile grows, practically taking over your features as you beam at him. “Good, and just to be clear, I too look at you and consider risking it all. Hell, on my walk up here I had to remind myself we were going to be in public, you have work to return to, I have errands to run and it was like a mantra in my head because if I let myself forget that—I would be slipping underneath this table cloth and getting active–BUT–I’m a lady and I should be able to hold myself back despite dating a GQ model…A prince of a man, ugh…it’s hard being a functional member of society,” 

Zuko just stares at you, his hand still firmly clamping yours against his thigh, completely frozen by the absolute whirlwind of your words. For a second, his brain has to catch up to everything you just admitted, but as the image of you slipping under the tablecloth fully registers, a dark, dangerous flush creeps up his neck.

A  rich laugh suddenly rumbles from deep inside his chest—a sound so uninhibited and genuine it completely transforms his features.

"Active, princess?" he echoes smoothly, his gold eyes practically sparkling with absolute amusement and a terrifyingly heavy dose of affection. “Is that the modern term for it now? And here I thought you were just enjoying a nice, civilized lunch on a luxury terrace. Meanwhile, you're sitting beside me having a full-blown internal crisis. " 

You scoff softly and tilt your head in pure amusement. “Mmm…it’s one word for it. And the word crisis feels too miniscule. My entire control console does a system reboot every time I look at you. Don’t even get me started on when you start talking, it glitches like I’m in the matrix and I have to remind myself that I have self-control and human decency. Which brings me to the next point of discussion: while I inadvertently gas you up, does your brain not malfunction in my presence? Or am I just overly going for you?”

Zuko mirrors your head tilt. His fingers wrap tighter around your hand instinctively as your line of questioning pivots once again. "Overly going for me?" Zuko repeats, mind seemingly reeling as he tries to decode the language you’re throwing at him. 

“Yeah, like I’m just excessively eager or—” 

“No,” he states confidently, “not at all.” 

The absolute certainty in his voice completely halts your train of thought, leaving you blinking at him as the sheer magnitude of his denial settles over the table. 

"If anything," Zuko states, his rough voice dipping into a register so deep it feels like a physical pull to your core. "It's the exact opposite."

He lets go of your hand under the table, bringing his palm back above the surface to lean his forearms flat on the linen tablecloth, entirely crowding your space until his broad shoulders block out the rest of the terrace.

"You want to talk about your control console glitching?" he murmurs smoothly, a small, dangerous, and breathtakingly handsome smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Princess, I have spent the last twenty minutes trying to recall the exact financial metrics for a global acquisition proposal I am supposed to spearhead at two o'clock. And do you know what my brain keeps giving me instead?"

Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers tightening around the silver handle of your fork as you shake your head slightly, completely transfixed.

"It gives me the memory of how tight you were this morning," Zuko confesses bluntly, his eyes darkening into an absolute abyss as he tracks the sudden, erratic pulse drumming against the skin of your neck. "It gives me the sound of your voice when you're undone, and the way you look right now, sitting across from me in a public restaurant wearing a catsuit and telling me you want to go feral under the table."

Your thoughts completely empty all over again under his ruthless honesty.

"So no, you aren't excessively eager," he murmurs, his thumb reaching across the small distance to trace the line of your jaw, his skin warm and possessively firm. "My brain malfunctions the second you cross my line of sight, Y/n. But the difference between you and me, princess, is that I am highly practiced at operating under a crisis. Now, dessert is on its way and we have six minutes left before you need to head to the valet and I need to head to a boardroom.” 

You stare at him, your skin tingling where his thumb rests against your jawline, completely captivated by the definitive boundary he just drew. The seamless pivot back to the clock—reminding you that you only have six minutes left—sends a thrilling, frantic spike of adrenaline straight through you. He just threw your entire internal system into a tailspin, and now he's casually keeping you on schedule like the executive he is.

Before you can even pull together a response, the waiter reappears, cutting through the heavy air with a perfectly timed arrival. He sets down a sleek porcelain plate featuring a flawless, decadent chocolate lava cake, its center slightly molten and dusted with a delicate layer of powdered sugar, alongside two small dessert forks.

"The signature molten chocolate cake to share," the waiter announces warmly. "Can I secure anything else for you both before the bill?"

"Just the check, thank you," Zuko answers effortlessly. His voice is perfectly modulated, completely masking the fact that he just spent the last two minutes describing exactly how unraveled you make him.

The waiter bows his head and slips away to fetch the black leather presenter, leaving the two of you alone with the steaming dessert.

You look down at the rich chocolate, then back up at Zuko, a small, highly amused grin managing to fight its way through your dazed expression. You pick up one of the small silver forks, nudging your chair just an inch closer so your shoulder lightly brushes his.

"Six minutes," you repeat, a playful challenge bleeding into your tone as you slice off a small, rich piece of the cake. "You really are a stickler for a timeline.. Are you expecting me to eat a luxury dessert at lightning speed?"

Zuko picks up his own fork, a glint of pure satisfaction in his gold eyes as he watches you bounce back from his intense confession. "I'm expecting you to enjoy your afternoon with Suki and the girls without being late because of me," he counters smoothly, using his fork to claim a piece of the cake. "Consider it high-efficiency pampering. We have just enough time to share this, secure your car from the valet, and part ways like civilized adults."

"Civilized," you mumble around a bite of the rich, warm chocolate, the sweet flavor melting on your tongue. You lean in slightly, dropping your voice into a wicked whisper. "There is absolutely nothing civilized about what you're thinking right now."

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he places his fork down as the waiter slides the check onto the edge of the table. Zuko slips his black card into the leather folder without even looking at it, handing it right back to the staff with practiced elegance.

 “If I told you what I was thinking about beautiful, you’d ask me if I have plans on shooting an adult movie with you,” he jests, resting his hand on your thigh. 

You instantly choke on your next bite of chocolate cake, a startled, breathless laugh escaping your throat as your cheeks burn. You frantically grab your glass of water, taking a fast gulp to save yourself while your eyes stretch wide in absolute shock.

"Zuko!" you squeak, glancing around the empty terrace as if the nonexistent patrons could hear his utterly lawless mouth.

His large hand firmly squeezes your thigh under the tablecloth, his thumb rubbing a deliberate, burning circle into the fabric of your one-piece. He doesn't look even remotely ashamed of himself. Instead, he simply watches your chaotic reaction with a relaxed, immensely proud smile playing on his features.

"I'm just being honest, princess," he murmurs smoothly, checking his watch with effortless corporate grace. 1:50 PM. 

"I think our honesty is what’s getting one another in trouble,” you grumble, wiping your mouth free of any chocolate remnants as the waiter delivers the receipt in that familiar leather book.

He slips two hundred dollar bills behind the receipt with his signature before looking up and addressing your side comment.

"Trouble implies that I'm trying to avoid the consequences," Zuko counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours with a terrifyingly confident intensity. He shuts the leather book with a decisive snap and slides it to the edge of the table. "I'm not. If anything, I am actively counting down the minutes until I can face them."

You exhale slowly at his remark, standing up carefully as he helps you up. He folds his jacket over his forearm and wraps an arm around your waist guiding the both of you to the main dining room. 

“The left side of the terrace was closed for a private party madam, but if you give us just a minute we can have it set up for you and your party of three.”  

The words faintly register in your ears as you allow Zuko to lead you to the opposite end of the dining room, completely parallel to the entrance you took. The attendant holds the elevator open, wishing the both of you a good day as it closes and shoots down to the lobby. Unlike the first elevator, this one is entirely see-through, allowing you to peer outside and see the hustle and bustle below.

You watch with utter fascination, and he watches you just the same.

The busy world below moves in fast-forward behind the glass, a dizzying blur of yellow cabs, busy crosswalks, and tiny figures rushing along the hot pavement. It’s a striking contrast to the quiet, untouchable bubble Zuko built for you up on that roof, and the visual has you completely transfixed.

But as you press close to the glass, you can feel the profound, unblinking weight of his stare burning into the side of your face.

You turn your head slightly, catching his reflection in the transparent pane before looking at him directly. He isn't looking out at the city skyline. He isn't checking his watch, and he isn't reviewing his mental notes for his two o'clock meeting. His gold eyes are fixed entirely on you, tracking the soft curve of your lips and the fascinated gleam in your eyes with a quiet, consuming hunger.

"What?" you ask, a small, breathless smile pulling at your lips as his arm tightens just a fraction more around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.

"Nothing," Zuko says, his deep voice carrying right through you as the elevator smoothly drops past the mid-level floors. He rests his chin lazily against the crown of your head, his gaze never breaking from yours in the glass. "Just watching you."

You hum, “I have a comment, but I’m going to hold back due to wanting to respect the fact you seem to have a rather important meeting to run and if I say what I want to say—it will off center you.”

Zuko lets out a short, highly amused breath against your hair, his grip tightening around your waist until you are entirely pinned against his solid chest. The transparent elevator car flies past the lower third of the building, but his focus remains strictly locked onto your reflection in the glass.

"You think you haven't off-centered me already?" he asks, a knowing, lethal smile playing on his lips. "Princess, my focus was entirely shot the second you sat across from me at that table. If you have something to say, say it. Don't hide behind human decency now."

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes with a thoroughly unprincipled, wicked gleam in your eyes. “Your attention is the reason I’m soaked now…”

Without giving him a chance to process the confession, you turn completely in his hold. You wrap your fingers around his large palm, guiding his hand down past your waist until it rests firmly on your hip, hidden from any outside view by the heavy drape of your oversized layer.

Zuko holds your gaze, pupils dilated so far that the gold of his irises are almost gone. He moves with effortless ease, sliding his palm over the curve of your ass, down the back of your thigh, and slipping his long fingers right in between your legs to press firmly against the center of your frustration.

Your breath hitches into a sharp, silent gasp, your hands flying to his broad shoulders for balance as the undeniable heat of your underwear dampens his touch right through the thin fabric of your one-piece. He doesn't caress you. He simply presses his fingers flat against your core, confirming the absolute truth of your words while his eyes burn a hole straight through you.

Underneath his hand, your pulse is thudding frantically, completely at his mercy.

"Jesus, princess," Zuko strains out, his voice tight, carrying a demanding edge that tells you you've pushed him past the absolute point of no return. His jaw is clenched so hard the muscle ticks violently, his pristine corporate armor shattering into absolute dust right there in the descending car.

A soft chime echoes through the elevator, signaling the arrival to the lobby.

Zuko doesn't flinch. He keeps his hand firmly wedged between your thighs for two more agonizing seconds, his thumb giving you one heavy, deliberate swipe that leaves you entirely breathless and trembling on your heels. 

You exhale shakily, lowering your hands till they rest on his waist. “I’m going to call on him soon too, I don’t have time to run home and change,” you note, giving his waist a squeeze and stepping back slightly to put some distance between you and the delectable scent radiating off of him. “Guess that just means I get to buy a whole new outfit,” you muse, trying to regather yourself as the heavy doors slide open. 

Zuko lets out a sharp, ragged breath, his hands sliding to his pockets as he forces his posture back into that of a disciplined, unbothered executive. But the dark, dangerous flush still lingering on his neck completely betrays him. His eyes track the slight sway of your hips as you step out onto the polished marble floor of the grand lobby, his gaze heavy with an intense, possessive focus.

"A whole new outfit," he repeats, his deep voice carrying a slightly rough, distracted quality as he falls into step beside you. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Make sure you charge it to my card, princess. Consider it an investment in my evening entertainment."

You clasp your hand around his arm as he matches your stride. “ I leave your card at home, those are emergency funds,” you note. 

"Emergency funds," Zuko repeats, the amusement in his voice sharpening into something distinctly proud. He doesn't let go of your hand as you approach the exit; instead, his fingers lace through yours, his thumb rubbing against the back of your knuckles in a firm, grounding rhythm. "Buying a replacement outfit because I ruined your current one sounds like an emergency to me, Y/n."

The heavy glass doors glide open, and the thick afternoon heat immediately rolls over you, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the hotel lobby. The valet spots the two of you, his posture straightening instantly at the sight of Zuko. He holds the driver's side door of your idling car wide open, keeping his eyes politely trained ahead to give you two a modicum of privacy.

Zuko brings your walking pace to a halt right by the hood of the car, turning his frame to block you from the view of the valet and the passing traffic. He reaches into his pocket, his fingers emerging with a spare platinum card he always keeps on hand. Without a word, he slides it directly into the small, sleek handbag slung over your shoulder, his palm lingering on the leather for an authoritative second.

"Now it's an emergency fund you actually have on you," he states, his gold eyes locking onto yours with an absolute, non-negotiable intensity. "Use it. Buy whatever you want, take Suki wherever she wants to go, and don't think twice about the total."

You roll your eyes, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “You can’t keep spoiling me like this,” you grumble half heartedily. “It’s going to ruin my independence as a strong black woman…” 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t say that. I’d say, I’m allowing my beautiful girlfriend to exude her independence by being unlimited in whatever she wants to do," he counters smoothly, his tongue clicking faintly in disapproval at your grumbling. "There is a difference, princess. Besides, your independence is exactly what caught my attention in the first place. A piece of plastic isn't going to change that."

A soft, defeated laugh slips past your lips. It's completely impossible to argue with a man who uses high-level corporate logic to justify throwing ungodly amounts of money at you.

"You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" you muse, tilting your head up to meet his fierce, golden gaze.

"Only when it comes to getting my way," Zuko replies, a sharp, knowing smirk gracing his lips. He closes the remaining distance between you. His warm hand catches your jaw, his fingers tilting your face up as he leans down and seals his lips over yours.

It isn't a polite, public goodbye. It’s a thorough kiss that completely drives the breath from your lungs, his tongue sliding against yours just enough to remind you exactly who you belong to. The heat of the afternoon sun has nothing on the absolute fire rushing through your veins as he anchors you against him right there on the valet curb, utterly unbothered by anyone who might be watching.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb swipes lazily across your bottom lip, his gold eyes dark with desire.

You let out a shaky, airy laugh, your hands resting against his chest as you try to steady your trembling knees.

"You need to get in your elevator and go to your high-stakes meeting right now, Prince," you warn, your voice a velvety, dangerous murmur as you glance back at your idling car. "Because if you stay out here for even one more second, I am going to throw you into my backseat and make you retire for the rest of the day."

A clear, incredibly proud smirk breaks across Zuko’s lips, his eyes flashing with absolute delight at the threat. He takes a single step back, reluctantly letting his hand slide away from your skin, though his gaze remains pinned to you. 

"Go buy your outfit, princess," he states, his voice carrying a definitive promise as he finally turns back toward the cool glass doors of the hotel entrance. "Enjoy the dinner party. But don't think for a second you're off the hook just because you have plans tonight. I'll see you later."

You watch him walk away for a fraction of a second, admiring the effortless, commanding way he moves in his tailored suit, before turning to slide into the driver's seat of your car. As you pull away from the curb, your heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, your skin still tingling from his touch. You reach over to check your bag, your fingers brushing against the cold platinum card he slipped inside.

Surely this will placate Suki’s anger for you being fifteen minutes behind schedule. 

The air inside the luxury boutique is crisp, smelling of expensive lavender and high-end silk, a massive contrast to the thick summer heat cooking the city sidewalks outside.

Suki is already standing near a rack of designer cocktail dresses, a manicured hand resting on her hip as she checks her watch. The second you slide through the glass entrance, her eyes lock onto you with a mock-stern expression.

"Fifteen minutes, pumpkin," Suki chides, a knowing grin instantly cracking her disciplined exterior. "Fifteen minutes of my life spent hiding from the sales associates who keep trying to hand me complimentary champagne. Care to explain what corporate emergency kept you?"

You don't say a word. Instead, you unzip your compact handbag, slide your fingers inside, and casually pull out the sleek, matte-black platinum card Zuko just forced into your possession. You hold it up between your index and middle finger, letting the gold lettering catch the boutique’s track lighting.

Suki’s jaw literally drops. She stares at the card, then looks up at your face, a dramatic gasp escaping her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Suki squeals, instantly lunging forward to inspect the plastic. "He did not. The Prince handed over the unlimited black card? Girl, what did you do to that man at lunch?"

"Consider it an emergency investment," you tease, a triumphant smile pulling at your lips as you guide her toward the back of the store where the dressing rooms are located. You lower your voice into a confidential whisper. "And honestly, it is an emergency. I can't even take off my oversized shirt right now because my current outfit is completely ruined underneath. Zuko made sure of that in the elevator."

Suki lets out a loud, chaotic cackle that echoes off the boutique's marble floors. " You’re a fiend for that man girl, I love it. I live for it,” she starts flipping through the garment bags with a purpose. 

“I’m down bad Suki, real down bad. Nine months in and I feel like I’m floating on air and walking on sunshine. It’s sick work he’s doing on me. Could be hoodoo, could be voodoo, could just be real out of this world dick, but I can’t confirm or deny just yet.”

"Alright, so our group golf lesson starts around 4:30, which gives us enough time to find dresses for tonight and cute gold sets. I’m aiming to look like Ralph Lauren, old money, pretty bitch, kind of vibe. As for Ming’s birthday dinner, we are heading to The Jade Pavilion," Suki announces, holding a stunning satin midi-dress up to your frame to gauge the fit. "Ming said she wanted high-end luxury vibes, so everyone is going to be dressed to absolute perfection. I think this place just opened its reservation books last month."

A sudden wave of recognition hits you, a dazed, incredibly fond smile taking over your features.

"Wait, The Jade Pavilion?" you repeat, your fingers tracing the smooth fabric of the dress Suki is holding. "Oh, you are going to love it, Su. I've actually been there with Zuko for a date night recently."

Suki halts her browsing, her eyebrows shooting up with immense curiosity. "Ooh, give me the layout. Is it actually worth the hype?"

"It’s incredible," you note, your inner confidence firmly in the driver's seat as you remember the layout. "The interior is gorgeous, but the real highlight is out back. They have an absolute masterpiece of a dance floor set up right in the backyard under the stars, and the main bar out there looks exactly like a luxury cabana. It feels like a private tropical estate hidden right in the middle of the city."

"A backyard dance floor and a cabana bar?" Suki repeats, her eyes sparkling with unbridled excitement. "Oh, the girls are going to love that! We must find something we can move and groove in, while looking fucking stunning. Ming is going to be in Jade, so we were thinking black with jade accessories? What do you think?”

You nod enthusiastically, moving over to the rack holding a majority of black dresses. “Sounds amazing. Zuko actually just bought me a pair of jade earrings and a necklace during Lunar New Year, and I’ve been waiting for another occasion to wear them.”

“Oh my goodness, yes! You looked so stunning wearing it for your job’s banquet!” She squeals, practically vibrating where she stands at how much fun and how amazing you all will be looking tonight. 

You pull a spectacular black silk slip dress from the rack, admiring the way the premium fabric glides over your fingers. But as you tilt your head to gauge the neckline, a sudden, highly practical realization hits your brain. You freeze, your expression turning distinctly sheepish as you look over at your best friend.

"Su, hold on," you say, clearing your throat as you carefully hang the dress back onto the bronze rack. "We have a slight logistical crisis to handle before I can even think about entering that fitting room."

Suki tilts her head, her manicured fingers pausing on a velvet hanger. "What's wrong, pumpkin? Found a dress that’s cute but doesn’t match the vibe?"

"No," you whisper, stepping closer into her space and dropping your voice into an entirely confidential register. "I can't try on a thousand-dollar silk dress right now. It would be dubious of me to try on clothes in this state... My undergarments are thoroughly soaked through, Suki. Zuko didn't just talk a big game in the elevator; his hand was wedged between my legs for half the ride down to the lobby."

Suki freezes for one spectacular second before letting out a loud, chaotic screech of laughter.

"Oh my god!" she squeals, slapping her hand over her mouth to try and control her unvarnished glee. "You are an absolute beast of a woman! A literal public hazard! Y’all have to do better as a duo. Come on."

She hooks her arm firmly through yours, completely abandoning the dress rack and pivoting the two of you toward the door that leads to an entirely different side of the high-end shopping store.

The boutique's private intimates salon is a sanctuary of quiet luxury, lined with satin-covered hangers holding delicate pieces of French lace and premium silk. Suki navigates the displays with the speed and precision of a woman on a military mission, matching a seamless black silk undergarment set with a chic, ultra-expensive casual daytime outfit to replace your ruined one-piece entirely.

"If we are doing a black dress with your Lunar New Year jade jewelry tonight, the foundation needs to match the blueprint," Suki declares, tossing the selections into your arms. "And you need a fresh outfit to wear for the rest of our shopping trip anyway. This is elite. Go change right now."

You take the fresh garments from her, slipping into the large, mirrored private stall. The relief of shedding the damp, ruined fabric you’ve been wearing since lunch is immediate. You step into the fresh, smooth silk undergarments and slide into a pristine, beautifully tailored new daytime outfit. The premium material flows beautifully around you, completely freeing you from the aftermath of the elevator encounter.

The sales associate gracefully handles the dilemma, wrapping your ruined one-piece into a discreet, beautifully scented designer shopping bag without a single look of judgment.

You step out of the stall, completely refreshed, and march straight to the register where Suki is already waiting with an incredibly devious grin stretching across her face holding two of your bags in her hand. One filled with a few pieces that cater to Zuko’s evening entertainment and the other the remnants of your previously stunning outfit.

You unzip your handbag, slide Zuko's sleek, matte-black corporate card out, and hand it to the cashier with practiced elegance.

Click. The card swipes seamlessly through the register, the small screen flashing a quiet confirmation of the successful transaction for both the luxury undergarments and the brand-new replacement outfit.

You look down at your phone to check the time. 2:05 PM. Zuko's global acquisition proposal meeting started exactly five minutes ago.

"You do realize what you just accomplished, right?" Suki whispers, leaning her elbow on the marble counter as the cashier packs your fresh purchase into a glossy bag. Her eyes are dancing with pure, unadulterated entertainment. "That man is probably sitting in some boring ass meeting and just received a real time alert that his card was used at a boutique known for their lingerie. How do you think he’s holding up?”

A thoroughly triumphant grin spreads across your face as you slide the black card back into its secure slot in your wallet. The mental image of his reaction is absolute euphoria. His iron-clad armor is undoubtedly fracturing in front of his entire board of directors right now, his mind instantly racing to figure out exactly what you just bought to replace the outfit he ruined.

"He told me his brain malfunctions the second I cross his line of sight," you drawl smoothly, grabbing the shopping bag from the counter with a rascally twinkle in your eyes. "I can only imagine how his brain will stutter through processing this notification, but he insisted and I’m a good listener. Now that the emergency is solved... let's go find that dress for Ming's dinner and cute golf wear—which we will have to find at one of the stores across the street."

The rest of the shopping spree is a mix of chaos and fun, all bundled into an hour-and-a-half time block. The two of you hop from boutiques with price tags y’all would never entertain in a normal setting, to your go-to places when in need of a good outfit in a pinch. It’s a beautiful balance of girls gone wild and girls on a mission.

Time seems to work in your favor as you both manage to leave an exact one-hour window for getting ready—that doesn’t include travel time. Your apartment becomes a whirlwind of showers, make-up, and getting-ready music.

When you both finally emerge from your respective styling sessions, the "old money, pretty bitch" country club vision is fully realized.

You’ve completely stepped into the aesthetic. You’re wearing a crisp, white tennis skirt that sways effortlessly with every sway of your hips when you walk, paired with a sleeveless, modestly cropped v-neck top. To tie the whole Ralph Lauren look together, you’ve draped a soft pastel-pink sweater casually over your shoulders, the sleeves loosely knotted at your chest.

Suki steps out right behind you, looking equally elite but in a silhouette that perfectly fits her vibe. She’s opted for a athletic white pencil skirt that hugs her frame, paired with a sleeveless, high mock-neck cream top. Draped over her shoulders is a vibrant red sweater featuring a cream bear knitted right on the back, adding the perfect touch of high-society playfulness to her clean look.

"Oh, the country club is absolutely not ready for us," Suki declares, checking her reflection in your hallway mirror with a shit-eating grin.

You laugh, grabbing your bag and keys as you head for the door. "For sure, may not know what we’re doing, but at least we look damn good."

The drive is relatively smooth as you head to the wealthy side of the downtown district, coasting past Saks Fifth Avenue, past the luxury hotels, and through the financial district. The country club sits right at the edge of the harbor, overlooking the water. 

You valet park the car, smoothly slipping the red ticket safely into your purse beside Zuko's black card. Walking inside, you and Suki enter the grand lobby of the country club and immediately spot Ming and the rest of the girls. The second they clock your outfits, the entire group erupts into a flurry of squeals and excitement, ecstatic to finally kick off the afternoon. Ming can barely contain herself as she hypes up the itinerary, reminding everyone that they secured a private lesson with a touring professional golfer who is currently sitting right on the PGA leaderboard. 

Ming grabs you and Suki by the forearms, her bright, celebratory energy anchoring the group as she guides you all toward a shaded, private pavilion just off the main clubhouse.

"Okay, everyone, pay attention," Ming chirps, clapping her hands together to gather the focus of the six girls in total. "This is Master Instructor Eric. He actually qualified for the PGA leaderboard last season and is working overtime to do so again this season, so please do not embarrass me by launching a club into the harbor."

Eric steps forward with an easy, professional smile, looking effortlessly athletic in his tailored Royal Crest polo. "Welcome, ladies, and happy birthday, Ming. We're going to get you set up with some premium rentals at the pro shop first, and then we'll head down to the private tier of the driving range to look at your baseline posture."

The group migrates to the club's exclusive gear room, where the staff meticulously pairs each of the six girls with a high-end, lightweight set of graphite-shaft clubs. Suki slides a sleek, leather-wrapped driver out of her rented bag, testing the weight with a practiced, athletic tilt of her head.

"Alright, the prettiest women in this establishment are officially all armed," Suki murmurs near your ear, adjusting the red Polo Bear sweater draping her shoulders. "Let's see if we can actually hit the ball or if we're just here to look rich."

"We are doing both, obviously," you whisper back, checking your lip gloss in the reflection of your driver's polished clubhead before following the group out onto the grass.

Down at the private tier of the driving range, the setting is completely elite. The midday sun reflects beautifully off the water at the edge of the harbor, the salt air blowing a gentle breeze that makes your white tennis skirt sway smoothly against your hips as you walk. Eric sets down a large basket of premium golf balls and positions a glossy driver in front of Suki first.

"Alright, let's start with the baseline stance," Eric instructs smoothly, stepping in closer to adjust Suki's grip on the rubber handle. His guidance is light and encouraging. "Keep your shoulders loose, hips square, and let the momentum do the work. Don't force the swing."

Suki shifts her weight with a dancer's natural grace. She takes a clean, fluid swing—the crisp, echoing crack of the ball vibrating across the empty range as it sails straight down the center of the fairway.

"Look at that! Perfect extension," Eric praises, flashing her a brilliant grin before turning his attention fully to you, setting a fresh ball onto the rubber tee. He steps into your personal space, his hand gesturing toward the alignment of your stance. "Your turn, Y/n. Let's see how you handle the driver. Just mimic her hip rotation."

You step up to the plate, adjusting the drape of your pink Ralph Lauren sweater. As you grip the leather handle of the driver, a sudden, lingering tingle between your thighs serves as a very vivid reminder of the elevator ride from lunch. You clear your throat, forcing your focus back to the golf ball, and take a deep breath to square your shoulders.

"Don't overthink it, Y/n," Ming calls out from the seating area, where the rest of the girls are sipping iced drinks and cheering. "Show the pro what we're working with!"

You chuckle, adjusting the grip of the leather handle in your palms and shifting your weight. The white tennis skirt swishes playfully against your thighs as you look down at the bright white ball.

"Alright, let’s see," you murmur, leaning into the stance Eric showed you. You twist your torso, drawing the driver back with a steady, calculated focus, before swinging forward with all the natural momentum you can muster.

Thwack! The ball lifts off the tee in a high, dramatic arc, slicing beautifully through the crisp harbor air before bouncing hard and rolling deep into the secondary cut of the fairway. It’s not quite as straight as Suki’s shot, but the sheer distance has the peanut gallery on the lounge chairs cheering instantly.

"Oh, okay, power hitter!" Ming squeals, raising her glass of iced tea toward you. "Zuko clearly isn't the only one in that relationship who can hit something right!"

You let out a rich laugh, resting the head of the driver on the grass as a sudden warmth blooms in your cheeks. If only they knew what was occupying your thoughts right now.

Eric nods in genuine approval, walking over to reset the tee for the next girl. "Excellent power, Y/n. Your hip rotation is incredibly fluid—honestly, if you just tweak your wrist alignment by a fraction of an inch on the follow-through, you'll have a perfect straight shot."

"Hear that, Su? I've got power," you tease, casting a rascally look over your shoulder at your best friend, who is currently leaning against her own club like a seasoned veteran.

"Mmhmm, we all know you're great at handling an impact, pumpkin," Suki fires back smoothly, her voice a low, highly confidential murmur meant just for you as she adjusts the red Polo Bear sweater on her shoulders. "But let's see if you can keep that same energy when we move to the putting green. That's where the real precision comes in."

For the next forty-five minutes, the driving range is an absolute symphony of clinking clubs, bad swings, chaotic laughter, and celebratory cheers. Out of the six girls, at least two manage to accidentally launch a divot of grass further than the actual ball, sending the entire group into fits of breathless giggles. Eric handles the chaos like a true professional, giving pointers on stance and grip while thoroughly enjoying the vibrant, high-energy rhythm of your circle.

"Alright, ladies, that wraps up the baseline clinic," Eric announces with a brilliant, charming smile, wiping his hands on a club towel. "You all did fantastic. Ming, happy birthday again. I expect to see you all back here testing the club championship grid next season."

"Only if you're the one pouring the champagne at the finish line, Eric!" one of the dancers shouts back, prompting a chorus of laughter from the group as you all begin packing up your high-end rentals.

The group migrates from the driving range to the starting tee box, where the real chaos of the afternoon officially begins. Playing a scramble format to keep things moving, the six of you turn the pristine, quiet fairways of the Royal Crest into an absolute playground. It’s a beautiful, sun-drenched blur of Suki managing surprisingly clean iron shots despite the aesthetic constraints of her tight athletic pencil skirt, Ming accidentally driving a ball directly into a sand bunker, and the entire group cheering whenever a putt actually sinks.

By the time you reach the midpoint of the seventh hole, the afternoon heat has fully settled in, and the collective thirst of the group is reaching a critical level.

"Okay, if I don’t get something iced and sparkling in my system within the next five minutes, I am going to pass out right here on the fringe," Ming groans, using her visor to frantically fan her flushed face as she collapses onto a shaded bench by the green.

You shield your eyes against the sun, scanning the rolling green hills behind you. "Didn't Eric say there was a refreshment cart doing rounds today?"

"We completely missed her," Suki notes, checking her phone as she adjusts the vibrant red Polo Bear sweater still draped flawlessly over her shoulders. "I saw the cart girl coasting past the fifth hole when we were putting out, but she was going entirely too fast. She's long gone by now."

You look over at Suki, a devious, rascally twinkle instantly returning to your eyes as you look down at your cream handbag, knowing exactly who is sponsoring the day's hydration. "Well... the main clubhouse patio is only a short walk back past the hedge line. What do you say, Su? Want to go on a rescue mission for the group?"

"Absolutely," Suki agrees instantly, a triumphant grin breaking across her face. "Girls, hold our spot. Your captain and honorary teammate  is going on a beverage run."

Leaving the other four girls to debate the logistics of Ming's next chip shot, you and Suki leave your rented golf bags by the green and stroll down the paved path. The white tennis skirt sways effortlessly with every movement of your hips as you walk, the soft pastel-pink sweater bouncing gently against your shoulder blades as the harbor breeze carries the crisp scent of the ocean water across the lawn.

The outdoor pavilion bar at the main clubhouse is the epitome of gate-kept, old-money luxury. White columns support a shaded pergola, and wealthy patrons in pristine linen sets are murmuring quietly over midday cocktails. You stride right up to the polished mahogany counter, your cream kitten heels clicking softly against the flagstone flooring.

"Hi, good afternoon," you greet the bartender smoothly, resting your forearm on the cool surface. "We missed the course cart, so we're looking to grab a round of refreshments for a group of six out on the seventh."

"Of course, ma'am," the bartender responds with a well-trained, elite hospitality smile. "What can I get started for you?"

"Let's do six of your signature sparkling lavender-lemon mocktails," you instruct, offering a bright, effortless smile. "And make sure they're in the travel cups with plenty of ice, please. Oh, and six waters as well."

As the bartender turns to begin muddling the fresh lavender and pouring the sparkling soda, Suki leans her elbow on the bar beside you, looking around the pristine, white-brick terrace with immense satisfaction.

"I have to admit, the vibe here is elite," Suki whispers, a low cackle escaping her throat as she watches a group of older men in matching golf caps look over at the two of you. "We don't even know our own handicaps, but walking in here looking like a Ralph Lauren catalog while ordering top-shelf mocktails on Zuko's dime? It's sick work we're doing today, Y/n. Truly inspiring."

"He insisted I consider his card an emergency fund," you drawl back, a thoroughly smug, pleased grin playing on your glossed lips as you reach into your bag and casually slide the matte-black plastic between your fingers. "And ensuring my best friends don't suffer from dehydration at a country club seems like a massive emergency to me."

"A humanitarian, honestly," Suki teases, doing a little celebratory shimmy right there by the bar stools.

The bartender returns, carefully arranging six beautifully condensed, frosted travel cups into a secure carrying tray. The sparkling lavender drinks look incredibly refreshing, tiny bubbles rising to the top around fresh lemon wheels. Beside them, he places a secondary carrier holding six artisanal, heavy glass water bottles—a ridiculous display of luxury for plain H2O that makes your and Suki’s eyebrows rise in pure amusement.

"Whenever you're ready, ma'am," the bartender states, presenting the digital payment screen.

You slide Zuko's sleek black card across the counter with practiced elegance, watching the screen flash a quiet, successful confirmation. 5:55 PM. You check your own phone screen, completely satisfied by the timeline. Zuko should be comfortably at home by now, probably prepping for his evening run. 

Suki leaves two twenties on the mahogany counter as a cash tip, and from there, it becomes a high-stakes balancing act to securely get the massive tray of beverages back to your group of chaos out on the fairway.

The tray of condensed lavender mocktails and heavy glass water bottles are an instant hit, the six of you huddled around the golf carts laughing and re-energizing as the golden hour sun begins its slow, gorgeous descent over the harbor. Refreshed and running on pure best-friend momentum, the group sinks right back into the rhythm of the game. The energy is light, competitive, and loud, your white tennis skirt catching the warm evening breeze every time you step up to rotate your hips through a clean iron shot.

But as the scramble format guides your group closer to the coastal edge of the ninth hole—right where the manicured grass meets the stone harbor retaining wall and lines up parallel with the paved golf cart paths—the breezy, celebratory air of the afternoon completely stalls.

The low, high-end electric purr of a custom golf cart approaches from the club’s private terrace path, cutting right through the sound of the crashing waves.

Suki is the first to freeze, her hand loosening on her putter as her eyes track the vehicle pulling up onto the gravel shoulder right beside your green.

You turn your head, shielding your eyes against the blinding amber glare of the setting sun, and instantly clock the sleek, pristine cart. Behind the wheel is Ty Lee, her vibrant pink visor matching her bright energy as she brings the cart to a sudden halt, waving aggressively at your group with a massive, entirely conflict-free smile.

"Oh, look, Ty Lee," a chillingly smooth, dangerously calculated voice slices through the salt air as the passenger door clicks open. "It seems the shallow end of the pool has officially migrated to the harbor tier."

Azula steps onto the grass with practiced, lethal elegance. She is dressed to absolute perfection in a tailored, crimson tennis skirt set, a pristine white visor casting a sharp shadow over her cat-like eyes as she gracefully twirls a high-end driver between her manicured fingers.

But it’s the third figure sitting in the back of the cart that makes your eyebrows rise in silent curiosity.

Leaning heavily against the leather armrest, looking utterly bored out of her mind as she flips through her phone, is a girl you’ve never seen a day in your life. She’s dressed in a sharp, dark linen blazer over a minimalist black top, her sleek hair pinned back with total high-society precision. She radiates a heavy, untouchable layer of dark, old-money apathy—very detached, very dangerous, and completely unimpressed by the entire layout of the country club.

“First you ruin our afternoon by making my sorry brother rent out the entire terrace, and now you’re staining my sacred grounds by making me wait until you and your little friends are done acting as if this is a jungle gym," Azula drawls, her golden eyes locking onto yours with demanding intensity as she stops at the edge of the turf. "Does your impudence know no bounds, or do you just like playing with fire?”

Your grip tightens around the puck until your nails dig crescents into your palm. 

“Excuse the hell out of you?” One of the girls calls out from over your shoulder, her voice firm and full of bite. 

Before Azula can even pivot her sharp gaze to track the new voice, Suki steps right up to the edge of the green, casually resting her driver over her shoulders as she looks down at the girl in crimson. Her shit-eating grin is entirely gone, replaced by a cold, untouchable calm.

"You can either wait like a good dog, or you can go bark to somebody else," Suki states smoothly, her voice carrying clear across the quiet harbor lawn. "We're in the middle of a round."

“Suki. Tell me, is Sokka still putting off setting a wedding date because his mother’s ring doesn't quite fit a girl from the ghetto side of the city? Or is he just realizing he can do better than a glorified lightweight?”

The hairs on the back of your neck bristle and the air feels as if it stills completely. The words come out faster than anyone else can compute as you take two large steps forward, crowding Azula's space.

“I’m begging you to repeat that so I can use your head for my next hole-in-one.”

“I see he’s dating so far out his flavor profile, he’s reached the realm of other.” The voice is dry and desolate of emotion, but it gains your attention as you shift your focus to the woman in dark colors. 

You don’t know her. You’re sure of it, but you can recognize a bitter tryst with ease. 

Your smile turns sickly sweet, your head tilting with a predatory grace as you look past Azula and lock your gaze directly onto the girl in the dark blazer.

"And you must be the background noise," you drawl, your voice dropping into a smooth, velvety register that completely cuts through the salt air. "I'd tell you to mind the business that pays you, but judging by how much free time you have to sit in the back of a golf cart and analyze my man's taste, it looks like you're currently unemployed."

Mai’s thumbs instantly freeze over her phone screen.

For a fraction of a second, the heavy, untouched apathy masking her features completely slips. Her head cocks to the side, and a single, sharp eyebrow raises with a sudden, unmistakable flicker of genuine interest. No one in their social circle ever dares to swing back at them with that level of unbothered, lethal precision—let alone look Mai dead in the eyes and dismiss her as a seasonal distraction.

"Oh, wow...Mai" Ty Lee squeaks from behind the steering wheel, her eyes darting between the two of you in absolute, wide-eyed panic as the entire green turns into a complete pressure cooker.

Azula lets out a scoff that lands somewhere in the realm of amusement and disgust. “Let’s be entirely clear, darling. You can wrap yourself in Ralph Lauren and flash a piece of plastic with my family's last name on it, but you are nothing more than an exotic weekend distraction. When the board meetings conclude and the legacy matters, he will dump you right back into the shallow end where he found you.” 

 You inhale sharply, the breath hitching in your throat as the next insult meets your ears. 

“She’s right. Men of his caliber don’t marry the help. They sleep with them in hotel rooms, buy them lingerie to keep them quiet, and then marry women whose names are actually on the buildings. You’re a placeholder until I decide to stop ignoring him,” it’s spoken with such detachment and objectification that it leaves you stunned. 

Your jaw muscle twitches from how hard you’re clenching. Your brain is working a mile a second, the hot rage in your chest warring violently with the logical, pragmatic editor inside you. You have a career. You have a life. You have far too much to lose to let two miserable, elitist trust-fund securements drag you down into a public country club brawl.

You swallow your pride roughly, forcing a breath deep into your lungs as you consciously drop your shoulders. You look Azula and the unfamiliar woman dead in the eyes, your expression smoothing into a look of unbothered pity.

"You know what? I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction," you state smoothly, your voice ringing clear and steady over the course. "We came out here to celebrate, not to entertain a couple of bitter spectators who have nothing better to do than obsess over us from a golf cart. Let's go, girls. They aren't worth the energy."

You turn your back on them, pivoting your heels to lead your friends back toward the game. It is a flawless execution of maturity—a definitive choice to walk away with your head held high.

But Azula’s ego cannot handle a peaceful exit.

A sharp, sudden movement cuts through the air behind you, followed by the wet, aggressive splat of liquid hitting the manicured turf just inches from your white tennis skirt. The remaining sticky green droplets of her iced matcha splash across the grass, a few rogue spots dampening the hem of Suki's pristine pencil skirt.

The air stalls completely. Your voice of reason shatters into absolute dust. You freeze in your tracks, your spine turning to ice as you slowly look down at the green puddle, and then back up at the girls.

Before you can even take another step, the heavy silver of a golf club head clicks sharply against the turf behind you.

"Just so we are entirely clear," Ming’s voice rings out from over your shoulder, completely stripped of its birthday cheer and dripping with a precariously, protective octave. "I have bail money sitting in my savings account right now, and I am more than willing to take this as far as you ladies want to go after this amount of disrespect."

On either side of you, the other four dancers instantly close ranks, their athletic frames shifting into a unified, unyielding wall of physical defense. Suki steps right into the space between your group and the edge of the turf, her driver resting loosely in her palms as her eyes lock onto Azula with lethal certainty.

"You have but three seconds before shit hits the fan," Suki states, her voice an frigid, dangerous warning that makes the entire harbor green feel dead silent. "Three seconds before we become completely unaccountable for our next course of actions. Start counting."

Suki doesn't even make it to two.

The instant the final warning leaves her lips, the stalemate completely shatters. One of the dancers over your shoulder doesn't hesitate for a fraction of a second—she steps forward and chucks her entire heavy, condensation-beaded lavender mocktail directly at Azula's face. The sticky, ice-cold liquid hits her squarely across her crimson top, completely ruining her pristine high-society look in a split second.

Before Azula or Mai can even register the shock, two of the other dancers actively sprint around the flank, bypassing you entirely. With synchronized, savage precision, they uncap their remaining travel cups and pour the sticky lavender syrup and heavy ice directly over the leather seats and custom dashboard of the luxury golf cart itself.

From there, things turn south in an absolute heartbeat.

The entire green erupts into a violent, chaotic array of movement between the two factions. White tennis skirts and crimson athletic wear blur together as hands are thrown, shoulders collide, and golf clubs are dropped onto the turf. Ty Lee completely loses her mind, caught in a frantic, split-second panic as she oscillates wildly between desperate peacemaker and active opposition. One second she’s throwing her hands up, begging everyone to stop, and the next she’s instinctively ducking a swinging arm or putting up a defensive guard to push a dancer back as the brawl spills off the grass and right onto the gravel path.

The sharp, authoritative blast of security whistles finally cuts through the salt air as a squad of Royal Crest country club guards descends on the harbor point, desperately forcing their way between the two groups to break up the melee.

But the damage is already done. Your group definitely got their hits in.

As you’re all finally separated and escorted off the lawn toward the main clubhouse, the physical aftermath speaks for itself. On your side, the six of you walk with your heads held high—every single one of you looking audaciously proud of the absolute havoc you just wreaked. Across the path, the opposition is a total disaster. Mai looks deeply annoyed, picking a piece of lavender mint off her dark linen blazer with pure disgust. Ty Lee is entirely flustered, frantically trying to fix her high ponytail. And Azula? Azula looks completely, unhinged-ly pissed, her crimson tennis set stained with sticky syrup, her golden eyes burning holes into your back.

As the guards lead your faction down the long, white-brick corridor toward a private holding room, you don't waste a single second. Matching Suki's stride, you quickly unzip your cream shoulder bag. You slip your fingers past Zuko's platinum card, slide your phone out, and keep it low against your tennis skirt.

With your heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you quickly fire off an emergency SOS pin drop to the main group chat consisting of you, Suki, Sokka, and Zuko.

[Location Pin: Royal Crest Country Club - Security Management Suite] you: Golf has been compromised. Bring bail money.

You shove the phone back into your bag just as a guard opens the heavy mahogany door, ushering all six of you into a small, plushly carpeted boardroom to begin recounting the incident.

“Head of security and our club Assistant VP of Club Operations will be in to obtain your statement and inform you of next steps, but ladies, this is not how we conduct ourselves at Royal Crest,” the security guard chastises, a look of distaste overshadowing his features as he turns around. 

The second the heavy mahogany door clicks shut behind the guard, leaving the six of you alone in the quaint holding room, the tense silence completely disintegrates. The room bursts into an absolute, rambunctious symphony of overlapping voices, breathless laughter, and pure adrenaline as the girls instantly begin a wild, chaotic retelling of the entire incident. 

"Oh my god, did you see her face?!" Ming squeals, completely throwing away her birthday visor onto the glass coffee table as she does a celebratory victory lap around the carpet. "When the mocktail hit her right in the chest? I thought her fake old-money soul was going to leave her body!"

"And the golf cart!" another dancer howls, leaning against the wall and clutching her stomach from laughing so hard. "We literally drowned the leather seats in sticky syrup and ice. That custom dashboard is never going to recover!"

Suki drops her driver into the corner of the room with a satisfying clatter, a massive, triumphant grin finally breaking across her face as she shakes out her shoulders. She looks over at you, her eyes sparkling with that fierce Kyoshi pride. "Y/n, those two large steps you took toward Azula? Absolute cinema. I thought you were actually going to take her head off with that iron."

"She asked if my impudence knew no bounds, so I had to show her the boundaries," you laugh, finally letting out the breath you've been holding as you sit down at the table.

"But the audacity!" Ming counters, her voice dropping into a mocking, high-society drawl as she mimics Azula's posture. "'Staining my sacred grounds.' Who talks like that? It’s a public-adjacent fairway, you miserable reptile!"

"And that girl in the dark blazer" another girl chimes in, tossing her hands in the air. "Saying men of Zuko's caliber buy lingerie to keep people quiet? The absolute projection! And another thing, like how obsessed over this man are you to even know what his lunch plans were?!"

The chaotic laughter continues to echo around the small room, but the sound suddenly blurs into distant static as that final question hits your brain like a physical jolt.

How did they know?

Your mind instantly races backward, rapidly relaying through the events of the afternoon until you're standing right back in the warm, dim luxury of the hotel restaurant. You remember the heavy weight of Zuko's hand on your waist, guiding you out, and the faint, hushed words of the restaurant attendant that you had barely paid attention to at the time:

“The left side of the terrace was closed for a private party madam, but if you give us just a minute we can have it set up for you and your party of three.”

The memory snaps into focus with terrifying clarity. The party of three. The left side of the terrace.

Those bitches, and adorable Ty Lee were there this afternoon. What are the fucking odds? 

You shake your head, laughing quietly at the irony before focusing back on the room.

The room is a brilliant, buzzing vacuum of high-energy hype, all six of you completely unified and audaciously proud of the chaos you just unleashed. Every time someone reconstructs a specific punch thrown or a cup poured, the room erupts all over again, entirely unbothered by the fact that country club management is currently outside trying to untangle the legal paperwork. 

The heavy mahogany door clicks open, instantly freezing the high-energy laughter inside the room.

The head of security enters first, his bulky frame projecting an imposing, no-nonsense authority. Right on his heels is the Assistant VP of Club Operations—a man meticulously dressed in a tailored navy blazer, his hair slicked back, and an expression of profound corporate annoyance resting on his face.

The power dynamic shifts in the room immediately. You can see it in the way the AVP looks at the six of you, his eyes scanning your rumpled tennis outfits with an unmistakable layer of classist disdain. Azula and Mai are high rollers here; their families represent legacy memberships and multi-million-dollar endowments to the Royal Crest network. To management, you are six unknown outsiders who just systematically dismantled their pristine clubhouse peace.

"Alright, ladies," the Assistant VP begins, his tone dripping with condescending, gate-kept authority as he folds his arms. "I've already taken a full statement from Miss Ryu and Miss Morishita. Needless to say, destroying a customer’s club asset and launching beverages at premium tier members is a direct violation of our charter. We are looking at significant property damage to the golf cart, and frankly, a blatant assault charge."

The head of security steps forward, pulling out a small notepad. "We're going to need each of your legal names, identification, and the primary account holder associated with your guest passes today. The club will be pursuing full financial restitution, and depending on the statement verification, local law enforcement is already on standby."

Ming’s jaw drops, her defensive birthday energy instantly flaring back up, but Suki catches her forearm with a tight, grounding grip, her eyes narrowing at the blatant favoritism happening right in front of you. They’ve already taken Azula’s side without even asking for your version of the story.

You press your fingers to the bridge of your nose, feeling the start of a headache brewing, but no guilt, no second- guessing at all. You’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

“I just think it’s real funny, how–” Suki’s words are cut short as a sharp, commanding knock rattles the heavy mahogany door.

Before the security guard can even reach for the handle, the door swings open to reveal a sight that completely upends the power dynamic in the room.

Zuko leads the charge, stepping into the small holding suite like a man who owns the foundation it was built on. He looks effortlessly elite, dressed in a pair of tailored linen pants and a matching crisp button-up shirt—clearly interrupted right in the middle of preparing for his evening routine. Right behind him is Sokka, still in his sharp work attire, consisting of a button-up shirt and slacks, his face set into an unusually grim, fiercely protective mask the second his eyes sweep over the room to take in the girls.

But it’s the third man entering the room that makes the Assistant VP of Club Operations turn a sudden, ghostly shade of white. Walking a step behind Zuko, looking sweaty and deeply apologetic, is the country club's actual, executive Vice President.

The room holds its breath. Zuko stands at the epicenter of the space, his commanding presence immediately rendering the AVP and the head of security completely small.

"Is everyone okay?" Zuko poses the question to the entire room, his voice a smooth, low baritone that carries a terrifyingly quiet authority.

Though his question is for all six of the girls, his steadfast gaze locks immediately onto you. His golden eyes drop to trace the slight rumple of your pink sweater, inspecting you for any actual damage, before rising back to meet yours with a reassuring, unyielding focus.

Behind him, Sokka’s eyes instantly find Suki, his gaze lingering on the rogue green droplets of matcha dampening the hem of her athletic skirt, his jaw clenching hard enough to see the muscle jumping.

The club's Assistant VP scrambles forward, his previous condescending arrogance completely evaporating into frantic submission. "Mr. Ryu! Sir, we—we didn't expect you here personally. There was a highly volatile incident out on the ninth green involving property damage and your sister, and we were just attempting to get these young ladies' credentials—"

"I am the primary account holder for their passes today," Zuko cuts him off smoothly, not even turning his head to look at the man. He keeps his eyes entirely on you, a dark, dangerously protective smirk ghosting the corner of his lips as he registers your completely guilt-free expression. "And any financial restitution or legal statements regarding my sister's custom assets will go through my personal legal counsel. You all can step outside now."

The club's Vice President frantically gestures for the Assistant VP and the head of security to exit, both men scrambling out of the room so fast they nearly trip over their own loafers. The heavy mahogany door clicks shut with a soft, final snap, leaving just your group, Zuko, and Sokka in the room.

The atmosphere shifts instantly. Sokka immediately closes the remaining distance to Suki, his large hands gently cupping her elbows as he checks the hem of her skirt up close, murmuring a low, frantic question under his breath that Suki answers with a small, reassuring squeeze of his forearm.

Zuko doesn't say a word at first. He moves with a slow, commanding grace over to the head of the polished conference table. He sits down, looking every bit composed and effortlessly regal in his tailored linen. He casually crosses one leg so his ankle rests right on his knee, leaning back against the leather chair with his arms folded over his chest. He tilts his head slightly, taking in the group's chaotic appearances from this new angle.

The silence stretches, heavy and thick with his overwhelming presence. Underneath his hard, calculating stare, the girls instantly start to squirm, shifting their weight and suddenly finding the abstract paintings on the wall or the pattern of the carpet incredibly fascinating. Nobody wants to look him directly in the eye, fully anticipating him to rip them a new one for turning a luxury country club into an episode of bad reality TV. 

In the back row, one of the dancers leans an inch closer to Ming, her voice a tiny, barely audible breath. "Uh-oh... daddy's mad."

"Ow!" she whispers a second later, rubbing her ribs as Ming sharply elbows her in the side, giving her a frantic, wide-eyed warning look.

Zuko’s eyebrow twitches slightly at the whisper, but his expression remains an unreadable, stony mask as he just sits and listens. After a minute or two of the suffocating quiet, the collective anxiety in the room finally boils over, and all of the girls' voices start to intersect at once in a frantic, overlapping rush to explain themselves before he can blow up. 

"Zuko, look, they literally tracked us down—"

"Azula threw her drink first, I swear to god—"

"Dark and dreary said the most unhinged, atrocious things about Y/n—"

"We had to protect the vibe and our honor, it was self-defense—"

The frantic explanations bounce off the walls, the girls practically tripping over each other's words, looking entirely remorseful yet desperately hoping he understands why they did what they did. 

Zuko simply raises a single hand. The gesture is small, completely effortless, but the absolute authority behind it silences the entire room in a fraction of a second. Every mouth snaps shut, the girls holding their breath like students waiting for a detention lecture.

Zuko slowly shifts his gaze across the trembling lineup, his sharp golden eyes eventually stopping right on you. He simply raises an eyebrow, a tiny, rascally glint of amusement finally warring with the dangerous protective edge in his features.

"What happened to simply playing golf?" is his question.

You open your mouth to explain—to lay out the absolute legal, moral, and emotional justification for why Azula’s face needed to meet a lavender-lemon blend and the back of your hand, and then your jaw just snaps completely shut.

Beside you, Suki shifts on her cushion, her fierce athletic confidence instantly evaporating as she opens her mouth to present a tactical defense, only to freeze mid-breath. Her eyes dart to the ceiling, then back to the floor, and she snaps her mouth shut with a quiet, hollow click.

The two of you sit there, completely glitching in real-time as your adult brains desperately scramble and fail to compute a single logical, mature response to explain how a luxury golf clinic turned into a lawless turf war over a ruined drivetrain. From an adult standpoint, there is absolutely no defending the logistics of what just occurred on the ninth hole.

The lifeline to cut the silence comes from Ming, as she lifts her gaze to peer at Zuko through her lashes. Her cheeks are flushed, her white top disheveled, but she perseveres through the discomfort, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw.

“We were playing… and we were doing really well! I mean, Suki was kicking our asses, Y/n was hitting long balls that may not have been headed for a hole-in-one, but for sure had some distance, and I was having a really good time celebrating my special day with my favorite girls” she states, her chest puffing out in pride as she remembers how the game started.

“—And that’s when things hit the fan, Mr. Zuko, sir,” one of the girls squeaks, her frame hiding behind Ming the moment his golden eyes turn to her.

You clear your throat, raising a hand to speak. “Golf was fun. We were having fun, and then the three clouds descended upon us—”

“And we tried to be adults! Tried to handle it like civil women, but what are you to do when words don’t work and your honor is being spit on?” Ming questions, her voice rising an octave as her birthday outrage flares back up. “They insulted Y/n and our captain—AND—more than fucking once,” she fumes.

Zuko shifts his weight slightly in his chair, his arms still folded tightly over his linen button-up. The suffocating, stony mask he wore when he first entered the room begins to fracture, a small almost indiscernible smile pulls at his lips as he looks from Ming's flushed face right back to you. The sheer absurdity of his high-society sister getting thoroughly jumped and covered in syrup by a pack of elite contemporary dancers on a gated country club fairway is clearly the best thing he’s heard all week. 

He uncrosses his leg, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the polished mahogany table, his eyes locked onto yours with an amount of adoration that completely melts the tension and dissipates what could have been a gnarly headache.

“So, just to make sure my baseline summary is correct,” Zuko begins, his words bleeding with amusement and affection. “My sister threw a tantrum, and in response, you stepped to her, threatened her head with—they tell me—a number three golf club, and let your girls dismantle her golf cart?”

You wiggle in your chair, unable to hold his gaze as the weight of the words land. There’s a hint of embarrassment brewing in the pit of your stomach the longer you’re able to sit with your actions. No regret though; again, you’d happily do it again—maybe with twice as much conviction and ferocity.

"That is the baseline summary, yes," you reply, staring intently at the shiny table.

“Mr. Zuko, sir? Will… will we be going to jail? It's okay if so, I–I just want to mentally prepare before the cops walk in,” someone squeaks from the back couch, her voice quivering but entirely certain of her impending criminal record.

Zuko lets out a quiet rich chuckle, the sound completely dismantling the lingering courtroom tension as he shakes his head at the terrified dancer.

“No one is going to jail tonight,” Zuko assures her, his smooth voice dropping the corporate hammer on the matter. “This is officially all wrapped up. My legal team is already handling the property damage assessment, and the club’s incident log is being wiped clean before morning.” He pauses, a rascally, teasing glint flashing in his golden eyes as he glances over the row of relieved, sad-puppy faces. “Though, for the time being, I’d highly suggest you ladies try a few of the other country clubs around the district. Royal Crest might need a season or two to recover from your…extracurriculars .”

A collective, massive sigh of relief ripples through the sofas, the dancers practically melting back into the leather cushions as the threat of a criminal record vanishes.

Zuko pushes back his chair and stands up from the conference table, his effortless, regal authority returning to his frame as he rolls his linen sleeves up one more notch. “Your vehicles are already waiting for you at the valet line up front. You all have a reservation at The Jade Pavilion to make in exactly two hours, so I suggest you get moving.”

The girls instantly start scrambling to grab their designer bags and rented visors, their high-energy birthday vibe snapping back into place in a heartbeat. But before you can even slide your phone back into your cream shoulder bag to join the exodus, Zuko’s gaze pins you right to your seat.

It’s an intense, heavy stare that completely locks you in place. Beneath the sheer weight of his focus, your knee automatically starts to bounce, your foot tapping a frantic, anxious rhythm against the plush carpet. You aren't full of regret, but sitting alone under his microscopic inspection after executing a country-club turf war is definitely a test for your nervous system.

Zuko catches the sudden movement of your leg, his eyes tracking the bounce before rising back to meet yours, an unreadable expression flashes across his features for a split second before locking back in.

“Sokka,” Zuko instructs evenly, not breaking eye contact with you for a fraction of a second. “Lead the girls up front and get them settled into their vehicles. We’ll be right behind you.”

“You got it, bossman,” Sokka says with a wide, triumphant grin. He wraps his arm around Suki’s waist, guiding her toward the corridor. “Alright, jailbirds, let’s move it. Valet is waiting.”

Ming throws a chaotic, ecstatic wave over her shoulder. “See you at the pavilion, Y/n! Zuko, you are literally a saint!”

The heavy mahogany door clicks shut behind the rowdy pack of dancers, their loud laughter instantly echoing down the white-brick hallway until it fades completely. The room plunges into a thick, absolute silence, leaving just you, the shiny conference table, and Zuko standing towering over your space with his arms crossed.

You can feel the absolute weight of Zuko’s presence pressing down on you as he slowly rounds the polished mahogany table, his steps entirely unhurried, his clean cologne cutting right through your fading adrenaline.

Your leg is practically drilling a hole into the country club carpet at this point, your fingers twisting the strap of your cream handbag. The adult embarrassment is officially peaking, and under the intensity of his golden eyes, your internal filter completely breaks.

"Okay, look, I know how it sounds," you blurt out, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a frantic, nervous rush before he can even open his mouth. "A number three is probably a lot of club, I know, but you weren't there, Baby. I was genuinely trying to be the voice of reason! I used my mature corporate voice, I told the girls they weren't worth the energy, and we literally turned our backs to walk away. But Azula—fucking demonic seed of your bloodline, she couldn't just let us leave with our dignity. She threw her matcha!"

Zuko stops right in front of your chair, his hands sliding casually into the pockets of his tailored linen pants as he looks down at you, his head slightly tilted, letting you dig your own grave.

"And I'm not apologizing for the golf cart either," you continue, your voice rising an octave as you ramble through the confession, looking everywhere in the room except at his face. "Because frankly, the things leaving their mouths were downright atrocious. Azula called me an exotic weekend distraction, and then her little emotionless shadow—I don't even know who that girl in the blazer was, by the way, but she has some serious boundary issues—she had the absolute audacity to say that men of your caliber buy lingerie just to keep the help quiet! She called me a placeholder until she decided to stop ignoring you!"

You take a deep breath, your shoulders dropping a bit as the raw gravity of the situation really settles into your chest.

“I–I love you, Zuko. I love you enough to swallow my pride when your sister and her minion insult me. I love you enough to think four times over before retaliating in a way that would tarnish your reputation. I let it slide when that dreary cloud called me an ‘other’, when your sister insulted my best friend's upbringing, when they called me ‘the help’—I really fucking tried. And I–I’m not sorry for hitting her. I’m not sorry for ruining her golf cart or her expensive clothes. In fact, if I ever catch her in the streets, I’m liable to execute street justice, but I am incredibly apologetic of how my actions reflect on you.”

You finally snap your mouth shut, inhaling a sharp, ragged breath as the echo of your own words bounces off the walls of the small room. Your face is burning, your heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against your ribs as you stare intently at the polished table.

The secondary panic hits you almost immediately.

I love you. You said it. You actually just said it. Not over a romantic dinner, not in a quiet, intimate moment between the sheets, but blurted out in a breathless, heated rush while trying to justify a physical altercation. Your fingers tighten around your purse strap until your knuckles turn white, your inner filter screaming at you for letting your guards down completely.

You wait for the lecture. You wait for a corporate sigh, or a gentle, awkward shift in his posture as he tries to navigate the emotional landmines you just detonated on the carpet.

Instead, the room stays entirely quiet.

You force your gaze upward, expecting a hard, stern look. But the expression on Zuko's face makes you freeze completely.

The casual, amused look he had just a minute ago has entirely vanished, replaced by a rigid stillness that makes his jaw look like it was carved out of granite. His golden eyes are wide and completely locked onto yours, his chest rising and falling in expansions as the sheer magnitude of everything you just confessed filters through his brain.

He doesn't move a single muscle. He just stares at you, completely paralyzed by the unrefined, tenacious devotion you just laid at his feet, even while promising street justice.

"Y/n," Zuko finally breathes, his voice scraping into a quiet, raspy tone that vibrates right through the floorboards. He takes his hands out of his linen pockets, sliding your chair back just enough for him to carve a space for him to stand between you and the table. "Say that again."

You freeze; leg no longer bouncing, your hand releases the strap of your purse, and you stare up at him with confusion and uncertainty. 

When you open your eyes, you find Zuko exactly where you left him, his large hands still steady on the armrests, his posture patient and entirely unmoving. The panic of the verbal stumble is still buzzing in your ears, but the look he is giving you isn't judgmental; it is deeply focused, drinking in every single ounce of your unfiltered vulnerability.

The severe line of his jaw softens, a faint, incredibly tender look breaking through the protective shield he usually keeps up. He reaches out, his long fingers sliding up the side of your neck, his thumb resting gently against your jawline to anchor you. His touch is firm and grounding, single-handedly forcing your racing thoughts to a complete halt.

"Hey," Zuko says softly, his voice a clear, smooth tone that cuts right through your internal chaos. "Look at me."

You do, your eyes locking back onto his brilliant gold.

"It doesn't matter how it came out," he tells you, his thumb brushing over your skin with a reassuring, steady rhythm. A soft laugh slips past his lips and your eyebrows furrow in response. “I’m quite helplessly in love with you, princess. So much so I’m thinking of all the various ways I could fuck over Azula and her companions in a way that would calm the rage inside of me for their sheer audacity to even breathe in your direction.”

The admission leaves his lips with an absolute, crystalline certainty that makes your entire body relax, the last of your embarrassment evaporating on the spot. He isn't just accepting your messy confession—he is fully matching your frequency.

“Can you say that again?” you question, feeling the sting behind your eyes as his words wash over you and entirely cleanse away the messiness of the situation. 

The smile on his face makes your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he states, before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” this kiss lands on your forehead. “I love you,” it’s placed right on the opposite cheek.

His lips ghost over yours, eyes radiant. “I knew I was going to love you the moment you cheekily walked out of Suki’s apartment after telling me my hair makes me look delectable. And my hunch was only solidified when you sat in my kitchen, dressed in my clothes, doing a happy dance because I successfully acquired you fries. I love you when you rub your freezing feet on me at night, when you dictate our television time and give me all the background knowledge I need to understand black cinema and Tyler Perry. I especially love you when you stick up for yourself, call me, and promise street justice on my bloodline.”

Your eyes flutter shut as the space between you disappears completely.

Zuko captures your lips in a kiss that is entirely different from the playful touches from a second ago. It is deep, unhurried, and consumerist in its intensity, carrying the full weight of every single word he just confessed. His hand slides from your jawline to cup the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling into the roots of your silk press to tilt your head perfectly against his, anchoring you to him as if you would even think about leaving.

The country club holding room, the threat of legal statements, and the lingering sting of Azula’s insults completely dissolve into absolute nothingness.

He tastes like his favorite rich, dark espresso, his lips moving against yours with a desperate, possessive hunger that takes your breath away entirely. You let out a soft, helpless sigh against his mouth, your fingers grip the soft linen of his button-up shirt just to keep your balance.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn't go far. He rests his forehead right back against yours, both of your breaths coming in shallow, uneven pants that fill the tiny space between your lips. Your head is spinning, your entire body feeling completely weightless and floaty, as if the carpet beneath your feet has simply vanished.

Zuko lets out a low, ragged breath, his eyes half-lidded and burning with a fierce satisfaction as he takes in your thoroughly dazed, breathless expression.

Your smile turns loopy, big and goofy. “So,” you murmur, leaning further into his touch. “Despite how much you love me, I know you’re a man of cause and effect. What are my consequences, Officer?” 

“You mentioned not wanting to go to this dinner tonight back at lunch, so I’m going to give you two choices, princess,” he murmurs, finally standing up and offering his large hand to pull you out of the chair. The intense, regal authority returns to his frame the second you rise, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist to anchor your body parallel to his side.

“Choice one,” Zuko begins, his eyes radiating a devastatingly handsome, wicked glint as he looks down at your flushed face. “You attend the festivities with your girls, celebrate Ming's birthday, and whenever you are ready to come home, I will happily come and collect you. But I assure you, you won't be getting a single wink of sleep tonight.

"Or," he continues, his fingers pressing firmly into the small of your back, drawing you a fraction closer, "choice two. You get a headstart. You text the group chat right now and tell them you won't be making it—whether you tell them the real reason is entirely your choice. But you will be my exercise and outlet for the evening, seeing as I had to skip my actual workout, break several traffic laws just to keep you and your little ruffians out of official handcuffs, and received news that my sister disrespected you in a way that extends beyond me needing to give her a warning.”

You stare up at him, mouth agape at his two proposals. You clear your throat, nodding in agreement, “I’ll…I’ll let them know I’m paying off the Black Card and they’ll understand,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around his waist as he leads you outside of your temporary holding quarters. 

Zuko lets out an amused hum, “If that’s the case, cancel your weekend plans too. You didn’t spend nearly enough of your emergency funds for my liking, I think that’s punishable as well.” 

You squint, tilting your head back to peer at him incredulously, “ I–I, what kind of man wants to punish his girlfriend for not spending enough of his money?” 

A wicked smirk takes over his features, as the two of you pass through the empty corridors of the side entrance. “One that loves his girlfriend so much that he’s eager to leverage his amazingly steady tax bracket for her to live an unlimited lifestyle,” he states, oozing sheer confidence and certainty. 

“Get a load of this guy, you’re back to being a dictator, hmm?” you tease, welcoming the summer heat as the warmth welcomes you as you step outside from the stuffy atmosphere of Royal Crest.

“Only because my little tyrant returned,” he retorts, opening the door to his waiting BMW. He watches you with steadfast reverence. He leans over and buckles you in, crowding your space with the scent of him. 

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he secures you, “you love this little tyrant,” you whisper, allowing your lips to brush against the shell of his ear. 

He lets out a huff of air, pulling back slightly to take in the unapologetic vigilante sitting in his passenger seat. “I’ll show you how much during the aftercare, princess, but fair warning, I do plan on completely wrecking your shit when we get home,” he places a kiss right on your nose as your mouth drops. 

Well, fuck. 

Fin

I've returned from the islands, and I am back to my regular scheduled programing. This was too much fun to write! Like I was kicking my feet in the airport typing this up with so much glee.

Since I'm back I will return to a regular uploading schedule, but because it's summer, I do be outside and I happen work a 9-5, so if its late please be kind to me beloved!!! I'm learning balance.

Thanks for reading doll, let me know what you think!!!

Mack 💕

you sighed, pushing your glasses up your nose and finding a quiet spot to work on your upcoming project. it took a bit for that sense of self control to come back but when it did, you put your headphones on and kept your eyes glued on your laptop until they burned.

when you finally looked up again, zuko was standing over you with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed at his chest. he looked throughly unimpressed and like he'd rather be anywhere than here right now. his hair was tied back but wet, droplets falling from his scalp and down his neck, disappearing beneath his red v neck shirt.

you swallowed hard, eyes wide as they snapped up to his. he let the ghost of a smirk show before he was straight faced again. he obviously wasn't going to speak first so you sputtered out a "h-hello, can i help you?"

you ears were on fire.

"katara said you tutored her and you're pretty good at chemistry." that was all he said. you remembered katara. you shared a few classes together and she had been nice to you but that was two months ago and you weren't an actual tutor. just helping out a classmate.

"o-oh, yes i did. is everything alright?" your eyes were hopeful. if he asked you to tutor him, it would be an easy yes. did you have the time for that? no, not really. you were tutoring someone else from your statistics class while being swamped with your own work. working extra hard to keep your GPA at its max.

but you would gladly lose a few hours of rest for this.

"peachy. look i would ask anyone else but everyone keeps recommending you, so.." he looked away, jaw tight with a sudden irritation that confused you. he looked offended at the mere of asking you for anything.

"yes, i can tutor you." you were so pathetic, he hadn't even properly asked you yet and you were throwing yourself at him like a desperate nerd seeking companionship. which he very much wasn't offering, by the way.

"fine. i can do fridays after practice, we can meet here at 4pm then."

that was tomorrow. you had prior commitments with your parents that you couldn't miss or else they'd kill you. probably. more than likely.

"ok! should we exchange num-"

the man was walking away from you with a huff, yelling over his shoulder that he'll see you tomorrow and disappearing behind the double doors. well that went great, you thought as you lifted your glasses to rub your eyes. why on earth did you say yes?

you had no choice but to go now, lest you disappoint the man you'd been crushing on for an entire year now. your parents were going to be pissed!

ঌ

"i know dad, i'm sorry. im really just not feeling well today, i think i'm coming down with a fever." you lied through your teeth, coughing into the phone for the sake of dramatics.

the sigh on the other end told you that he knew you were faking it but couldn't prove it. you impatiently tapped your feet outside of the library doors where zuko was already waiting. you could see him through the windows on the doors, sitting at the same table you were yesterday with a hoodie covering most of his face.

you were getting scared he'd leave if you took too long, thumb hovering over the red button as you considered just hanging up on them.

"ok honey. maybe we can try again in a few days." your dad sighed again and you heard your mom scuff in the background.

"seriously, you're going to let her get away with this again! why are you so wea-" the line went dead. your dad was just as pissed as your mom, you could tell by the way he didn't end the call with a "love you" as he always did.

sighing, you smooth out your checkered skirt and fixed the collar of your sweater before walking through the doors. that was a problem for another day. right now you had to focus on not accidentally tripping and embarrassing yourself in front of the glowering soccer player.

shrugging your bag off your back, you sit in the seat across from him with a shy smile and sweaty palms. "hello!"

you inwardly cringe at the way your voice is too high pitched, pulling out your laptop and praying to whatever god would listen that he hadn't noticed you were late. at that moment your glasses decided they would defy all logic and slide off your face. before they could hit the table, zuko stretched his arm out and caught it, handing them back to you with pursed with lips and an annoyed expression.

"t-thank you." your hand brushed his as he handed them back to you, chills shooting so violently through your body that you jolted. you'd just have to pretend he didn't notice, or else you'd die of embarrassment.

"sorry for being late. I had some stuff I had to-"

"so?" he interrupts, sitting back in his chair and lowering his hood. his hair was messily tied up, locks falling from the knot he ruined during practice. you smiled awkwardly as his sharp golden eyes held you hostage, eyebrow raised as he waited for you to answer.

"i'm sorry?"

"it's been five minutes, chill out."

"oh.." you swallowed as your face flushed and stared at him for a few second before looking away. you had never been able to hold eye contact for more than five seconds at a time and zuko made it that much harder.

"so where do we start?" he asked like he was in a rush. you tried to not let it bother you, knowing he was a popular guy and had better things to do than to be spending his friday in a library with the campus nerd.

"do you have a laptop? or maybe a notebook so you can write down my explanations for later? or you can record-"

"got it." he reached down, lifting his bag and taking out his laptop before putting it back on the ground.

your first study session lasted two hours before he was standing and putting his bag over one shoulder. "thanks. same time, next week?"

"oh uhm, y-yes!"

the following wednesday you were walking past the soccer field when you saw him practicing with sokka and aang. you stopped and gawked along with a few other girls, your books clutched close to your chest as you'd forgotten your bag.

the men were shirtless, shorts hanging low on their hips as they lazily kicked the ball between each other, sokka saying something that makes aang laugh and zuko glare at both of them.

your heart banged against your chest, stomach doing summersaults at the sight of him drenched in sweat, abs on display for the entire school to see. something wild grew in you, call it an itch that was growing by the second and could only be scratched by zuko.

you were so infatuated with him that you didn't even realize those same girls had stopped looking at the trio, their attention now focused solely on you. you didn't hear the snickers, didn't feel even feel the push until you were falling face first to the ground.

you dropped your books in an attempt to catch yourself but hit the grass face first, nose making a little crunch sound on impact. your hands were on fire, palms stained green and brown from your them sliding across the ground.

the sound of laughter rang through the air, mixed in with a few curses and pounding feet and your mounting humiliation. you didn't move at first, mortified at what just happened. you knew they seen it, there was no way he didn't see it. your eyes started to burn up, tears threatening to spill over but you didn't let them. not wanting them to get the best of you.

"what the fuck is wrong with you mai?" you heard yelling but couldn't make out the voice over the sound of your own thoughts rummaging through your head. you'd have to transfer to a new school now, having no plans to show your face again after today.

moments later you turned to sit on your butt, glasses smudged and making it hard to see your stinging palms in front of you. you took them off, vision blurry as you attempted to clean them with your shirt. it only made it worse. you were starting to regret your outright rejection to contacts.

"it was a joke zuko, geez. you're acting like you care about this loser or something."

you finally stood, avoiding everyones gaze as you started scrambling to pick up the book shaped blurs on the ground. your hands were shaking, stomach twisting so hard it hurt and made it hard to breathe.

you were dumbstruck as zuko moved to help you, his hand stretched out to hand you your books. when you just stared at him he raised his eyebrow and titled his head, his hair falling around his face. your stomach flipped.

he looked so elegant, eyes glowing in the sun and you felt as foolish as you probably appeared.

"thanks." you sniffle and grab the books from his hand. before you can say anything else, he turns with a fury toward the group of still snickering girls.

"do you think this makes me attracted to you or something? makes me want to take you back after all the bullshit you pulled?"

you couldn't see her face but you know she was pissed because the snickering stopped, joke no longer funny now that she was being scolded like a child by the man she was attempting to impress.

"you’re seriously choosing her to white knight right now?” she scuffed, and all you wanted was to run away but you stood there., head down with your shoulders sinking. you wouldn't be able to walk anywhere without clean glasses and you cursed yourself from not carrying your cleaning set on you.

'i'm choosing to not act like a middle schooler at twenty-two years old."

when you looked up mai was glaring at you, not that you could fully make out her face. you didn't even know her, had no clue as to why she decided you'd be the perfect target for her antics but you made a mental note to stay away from her from now on. you were far from a fighter.

while she threatened you with looks alone, zuko stared softly and reached for the glasses you placed back on your nose. "you okay?"

zuko helped you attempt to clean your glasses off with the little bit of water left from his jug and when they were clear enough that you could walk without falling, you bolted.

ঌ

you spent the next two weeks avoided him, and he deeply regretted not getting your number or walking you to your dorm that day. he had been too livid at what his ex did that he wasn't thinking straight.

he wondered if you were ok, though that was a stupid thought. of course you weren't fucking alright after mai humiliated you. he should have done more, as katara so graciously told him after aang explained to her what happened.

zuko felt shame. there was no honor in leaving a lady in distress and he planned to apologize profusely for the mishap but you hadn't showed up at the library that friday, or the one after that. he thought he might bump into you in a lecture hall until he realized that you shared no classes. why hadn't he noticed that before?

especially because he had a fat crush on you that he was too much of a coward to admit to. the sexy nerd with glasses who always wore cute little skirts and tights, with charms on her backpack and stickers on her laptop.

he didn't actually need a tutor, no. that was his excuse to get close to you without coming off as weird. he first noticed you before one of his games two months ago. you were standing out in the crowd as everyone wore the colors of their respective teams, everyone but you. you were dressed in a bright pink cardigan with a teddy bear stitched into it, your hair in a ponytail that had pink strings decorated through it.

the way you pushed your glasses up your face had his dick hardening under his shorts and he forced himself to look away before he some very awkward interactions with his teammates.

then a month later katara mentioned she had a tutor and he happened to notice you two together. he realized it was you, the girl from his game that invaded his late night thoughts since. he often found himself imaging you while he stroked his dick, that it was your mouth around him instead. he would moan to your image in the privacy of his room, shooting buckets of cum all over his chest whenever you'd push your glasses up your nose and swallow him deep.

after another month of that, he came up with a plan. he would pretend he needed your help so he could get close to you in a way that wasn't weird.

it was only by luck that he caught you on a sunday of all days, wearing a hoodie twice your size and jeans that perfectly rounded out your ass. you had your head down and a lost look on your face. you looked as if you had been crying and something inside of zuko broke.

he had warned mai and her friends to stay away from you, reminding her again that there wasn't a chance in hell he'd get back with her after that stunt she pulled. he didn't mention that her chances were nonexistent the moment he noticed you, of course.

"(name)!" he shouted toward you, quickening his pace to meet you. it had been too long since he laid eyes on you and he was desperate to be in your vicinity again. the last time he felt this sure that he had to do something was when he was a young boy chasing the approval of his father.

when you looked at him, your eyes widened and you paused before you quickly turned on your heels and started speed walking away. however, zuko wasn't letting you go that easy. not again.

"shit." he jogged toward you, determination written in every step he took, his heart was thumping hard. zuko had never chased after a woman before. never. and yet here he was, willing to follow you to the ends of the earth just to talk to you again. if any of the men in his family could see him right now, they'd disown him.

when he got close enough to you, he reached out and grabbed onto your arm as gently as possible while adding some force to get you to slow the fuck down.

"hey, why are you ignoring me?" he turned you to him and he was glad he had athletic legs, or else he would collapse from the sheer weakness the look you gave him made him feel. bright eyes staring at him like he wasn't the piece of shit his mind made him feel like after he let you walk away alone that day.

you bit your lip and looked to the side, suddenly interested in his dorm building. he swallowed a groan and let his gaze linger on your lip as it fell from your teeth before he looked up again.

"sorry, i'm not trying to. just busy with school and stuff, you know?" you were obviously lying and zuko found it adorable that you thought he would believe that.

"right. not hiding from me or anything?" he didn't break your gaze and when you finally looked at him again, he reached out and pushed your glasses up your nose. fuck, he'd imagine doing that countless times during his late night sessions with his left hand.

"n-no! why would i do that?" you stuttered, eyes growing wide again as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. you were finally looking at him and he couldn't help but smirk at the panic written on your face.

"i honestly couldn't tell you, was kinda hoping you'd answer that for me since that's exactly what you've been doing."

he bit back a laugh at your furrowed brows and pout, concentrating as you tried to come up with another lie. so fucking cute, it was making his dick hard.

"i'm not avoiding you. I'm sorry you thought that, I was seriously just busy. we- we can study again, only i-if you want to, of course!"

he smirked, a plan forming. "how about now? my room is right there."

ঌ

you took in a sharp breath but nodded your head yes anyways, forgetting the reason why you were on this side of campus anyways.

now here you were, stood inside of zuko's room that was bigger than imagined and entirely his own. something about special privileges as a senior and captain of the soccer team. it was a simple room, set up with his bed that was covered in red and black silks, a desk for school work and gaming, and a closet and mini fridge for obvious reasons. he even had his own bathroom.

zuko told offered for you to sit on his bed while he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. you took your shoes off at the door and hesitantly crept further into the room. instead of sitting on his bed, you sat at the desk, anxiously fiddling with your sleeves when he came back.

"so.. what did you need help with? i don't have my books or anything but maybe-"

"we can share." zuko cut you off, nonchalant as ever as he rolled another chair out of the closet. you squeezed your hand to hide the way it shook when he pulled the chair next to you and sat, his arm brushing against yours as you both tried to fit at the desk.

zuko powered up his monitor, completely oblivious to the way he was making you feel. the next three hours you fought to keep yourself from combusting. you were in zuko's room! he invited you to his room and he was actually talking to you, smiling and laughing at your weird chemistry jokes that most people side eyed. it put you on cloud nine.

"it's late." zuko whispered after turning the screen off, voice a little gruff from laughing, eyes locked on yours and he was so close. your entire body stiffened as he leaned closer to you. you didn't move, didn't do anything besides try not to sink into the chair. he was eyeing you like you were someone he wanted to devour and you were starting to regret wearing sweatpants.

"yeah." you looked at his lips before holding his intense gaze while he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your neck before he pulled away. the hair on your arms stood when your skin made contact.

"(name).. i just want you to know i'm sorry i didn't walk you to your room after what happened. mai.. she's just insecure but i talked to her and they shouldn't be a problem anymore."

you blinked, trying to push away the lingering embarrassment from that day. "why would she be insecure?" and it was an honest question. mai was popular, beautiful, had plenty of friends and she had once dated zuko.

"because she knows she's not my type."

da-dum, da-dum, da-bum was the sound of your quickening heart, your skin going cold from the thrill you were starting to feel. the way zuko was staring at you, his body turned toward you, his head leaning closer. he was so flirting with you! OH MY GOD.

"oh. w-what is your type?" he was close enough that you could see the brown specs in his eyes, or that his left one was slightly faded from his injury. you were dying, nipples hardening as that itch returned again. this had to be a dream.

he smirks. "nerdy girls that wear glasses and tutor soccer players that pretend to be dumb for her attention."

oh. it made sense now. you had already died and went to heaven because this wasn't real life right now! only the lips hovering over yours told you it was. that zuko was about to kiss you and you had no plans to stop him.

"sounds an awful lot like-" before you could say 'me' his lips crashed against yours and you pushed back. it was rough but passionate. deadly but so so sweet. the rampaging thoughts in your head went silent as all you focused on was him, and how he kissed you like you mattered.

"open up for me love." he whispered against your lips before letting his tongue run across your lips. you gasped and your tongues collided.

the warmth of his hand against your jaw, the faint smell of his cologne invading your nostrils. it was too much and it made you moan against his mouth. in an instant zuko had you in his arms, your legs around his waist as he walked you backwards until your back hit his bed.

he was pulling his shirt off and climbing back over you before you could sit up. his mouth was on yours again, sharing spit and groaning as he grounded his hips into yours. you sung at the feeling, your pussy clinching around nothing as your panties started soaking.

his mouth moved from yours and traveled down to your neck, his hands grabbing and kneading your tits as he whispered curses against your neck. "you have no idea what you do to me. my little fucking nerd driving me crazy with those glasses and cute skirts you wear."

"oh! d-on't say that z-zuko." you cried out when one his head reached into your sweats, his fingers brushing against your wet cunt. you grew embarrassed at the way you were leaking but he only put his forehead to yours and smirked.

"why not when it gets you this wet?" he kissed you again, two fingers slipping into your underwear and rubbing up and down your folds, paying extra attention to that bundle of nerves that you had throwing your head back. this felt nothing like when it was your own fingers down there.

"oh my god!" you yelled out when he slowly inserted both pointer and middle finger, not a lick of concern in the world for anyone outside his door that might hear. tears were welling up in your eyes, you couldn't think of anything outside of zuko.

your nails scratched along his back as he started finger fucking you, curling for extra measure and letting his thumb rub on your clit. your eyes rolled back as your stomach knotted and your skin prickled. you felt like you were gonna explode, tears escaping and sliding down the sides of your head as zuko bit at your bottom lip.

"tell me what you need love. say it out loud and maybe i'll give it to you." his pace slowed down just a little but it was enough to have you whining for him to go faster.

"tsk tsk, that doesn't answer my question. tell me, please."

not in the mood for teasing you cry out "make me cum, p-please zuko! ngghhh"

he growled low, pulling his fingers out completely and laughing as you shot him a death glare. "want you to cum on my cock love, not my fingers." and he was pushing his sweats down, his boxers quickly following.

"your turn." he smirked as he grabbed onto his hard, leaking cock. your jaw was slack, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and pupils dilating. he was so fucking big you didn't know how he would fit inside of you. you'd never had anything more than a few rushed kisses and max one finger inside of you.

you had never been fucked before and it frightened and excited you at the same time. zuko noticed your apprehension though and stepped in front the bed, strong hands reaching out to grab and pull your body to the edge. he was snug between your legs, eyes concerned as his fingers rubbed at your exposed hips.

"we don't have to do this. tell me no and we'll forget this ever happened."

you bit your lip, heat creeping up your neck and burning at your ears. how did you tell him you were a loser at heart and never been fucked before? it was embarrassing being a virgin at twenty-two, especially when the guy about to fuck you probably had pussy being thrown at him from every angle.

"i, uhm, i never actually-" you wanted to curl in hole and never leave it, hands hiding your face from the raw shame nipping at you. that's where you hid until you heard a faint giggle. you peeked between your fingers, ready to let him have it before he was pulling your hands off your face and kissing your palm.

"i'll be gentle. can i continue?"

with a nod of your head he was pulling your sweats and panties down, groaning at the sight of your bare cunt and hurriedly removing your shirt. he admired your boobs, squeezing and sucking on your nipples while you squirmed beneath him.

he was pulling back and reaching into his nightstand before putting the foil between his teeth and pulling. how could someone opening a condom be so fucking attractive? you didn't know but you were eating it up anyways.

he slid it on in just a few strokes before he was grabbing your hip with one hand and guiding his cock to your dripping hole with the other. "ready?" and after you gave a breathy yes he slowly pushed the tip in, and the instant warmth had you reeling, taking in small sharp breaths.

"breathe for me love. don't want you passing out, do we?" he laughed at your quick head shake and ran the back of his hand down your cheek, giving you a few more seconds before slowly pushing his cock deeper.

stars exploded behind your eyes when he bottomed out, his head thrown back as he groaned and gripped your hips tightly, moving his hips in careful circles to get as deep as possible.

"uuuhh zuko, feels so good." it was the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, the sting being covered up by the buzz of lust flowing through your body. he fit so well inside of you, a little snug but it was perfect.

"gonna move now love, fuck- can't wait anymore." and he was bending over your body, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he started moving his hips, pace increasing every two strokes. you could tell he was trying to be gentle but you wanted more, needed more.

"please go, haaah, f-faster."

you cried out as he held onto your hips and snapped his hips forward so aggressively that your body moved up the bed. he pulled you back down, fucking into you at a brutal pace that had you forgetting who you were outside of zuko.

you clawed at his back and spread your legs wider for him to get deeper access. he licked at your neck before capturing your lips, biting, kissing, sucking. he was loosing his mind just as much as you were.

"fuck baby, gonna make me cum already. turn around, let me see that beautiful ass." and he was pulling out and flipping you onto your stomach, legs dangling a few inches off the ground as he slammed back into you, holding you up and fucking you like the perfect slutty little nerd you were.

"a-aah! please.. p-please zuuko, don't stop." not that you had to say that because the loud groans and aggressive pounding told you he had no plans to do such a thing.

"never. never gonna stop fucking this pussy, you're mine now."

the words pushed you over the cliff, scratched that itch you'd been having since you first laid eyes on him. with a scream of his name, you tightened around his cock and let your orgasm wash over you. you were in heaven, stars and hearts bursting behind your eyes, tears falling and droll escaping.

it was unfiltered euphoria.

"that's it, cum on my dick love. fu-ucking nerdy pussy's gonna make me cum, shit!" he pushed into you hard, head thrown back and hands shaking from gripping your hips aggressively as he shot buckets of hot cum into the condom.

zuko had been fucking you so hard that it ripped, and as he thrusted a few more loads into you from the feeling of your raw pussy, it started to leak out. he leaned over your back, moving his hands so he could wrap his arms around your waist, laying his head on your back shoulders as he fucked the last few drops out.

"mine." he huffed and kissed your sweaty skin, the salty taste making his dick harden inside of you again. "all mine."

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤঌ

note: i swear im working on the last part of behind these walls, I've just had crazy writers block when it comes to anything fantasy rn so i don't know when it'll be out 😭 but enjoy modern zuko, lemme know if you want more of him.

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.

The journey to the Northern Water Tribe had been long and arduous, but the group finally neared the icy shores of the grand city. Zuko stood at the edge of Appa’s saddle, his eyes locked on the towering walls coming into view. His mind raced—part nerves, part anticipation. Aang and Katara had spoken about meeting the Water Tribe’s princess, Y/N, but Zuko wasn’t sure what to expect.

As they landed, they were greeted by a group of Water Tribe warriors, though it was clear they were awaiting someone more important.

“The princess will meet you shortly,” one of the warriors said, bowing slightly. “She’s been preparing for your arrival.”

Sokka nudged Katara with a grin. “Princess, huh? Bet she’s like Yue. All noble and proper.”

Katara smiled fondly at the memory of Yue but shook her head. “Not everyone’s like Yue, Sokka.”

Toph scoffed, her arms crossed as she sat comfortably on Appa. “Great, another fancy royal type. She better not be all high and mighty.”

Zuko remained quiet, his gaze focused on the palace. The Northern Water Tribe’s city shimmered in the ice and snow, a place of incredible beauty and power, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something—or rather, someone—was about to unsettle him.

And then she arrived.

Y/N stepped out from the palace gates with a group of waterbenders trailing behind her. She wore the elegant, traditional attire of the tribe, but there was something casual about the way she held herself—graceful yet relaxed, confident but not boastful. Her eyes swept across the group, lingering on each of them until they finally landed on Zuko.

“Welcome,” Y/N said, her voice carrying easily across the frozen courtyard. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Aang was the first to move, practically leaping forward in his excitement. “Thank you for welcoming us, Princess Y/N! Your city is amazing!”

Y/N smiled, her lips curving gently. “Please, just Y/N. No need for titles here.”

Sokka grinned at her, giving a mock salute. “Well, you’re already cooler than most princesses.”

Katara elbowed him hard in the ribs, but Y/N just laughed, her eyes twinkling. "I'm glad you think so. But don't let the title fool you—I can hold my own."

Zuko hadn’t said a word, too busy studying her. She was powerful; that much was obvious. But there was a warmth to her that reminded him of Katara, though her energy felt more like the calmness of water flowing steadily.

Y/N turned her attention toward him, and Zuko stiffened under her gaze. "And you must be Zuko," she said, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "The prince who turned against his father."

Zuko straightened, nodding slightly. “I am.”

Her smile didn’t falter. "You made the right choice. Fighting for peace instead of fear is the path worth taking."

For a moment, Zuko didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to receiving such acknowledgment without any bitterness attached. His silence didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group.

Toph grinned knowingly, sensing the vibrations in the ground from Zuko’s nervousness. “Oh yeah, he’s all tense. She’s totally got him wrapped around her little finger already.”

Sokka snickered. "Called it! Bet he’s already regretting wearing that broody look."

Zuko shot them a glare, but Y/N either didn’t hear or didn’t care, gesturing for the group to follow her. “Come, you must be tired from your journey. My people have prepared a feast for your arrival.”

As they walked through the grand halls of the palace, Zuko lagged behind, his mind swirling. He could feel the others’ eyes on him, especially Toph’s.

“I can feel how nervous you are, Sparky,” she said quietly as they walked. “She’s just a person, you know. No need to have your insides twisted up in knots.”

Zuko shot her a look, cheeks faintly reddening. “I’m not nervous.”

“Uh-huh.” Toph smirked. “Sure you’re not.”

When they reached the grand hall for dinner, Y/N took her place at the head of the table, her eyes occasionally flickering toward Zuko. He pretended not to notice, but everyone else certainly did.

“So, Princess Y/N,” Sokka began, leaning forward. “How do you spend your royal days? Training waterbenders? Organizing parties? Or, you know, defeating enemies like us.”

Y/N smiled, amused. "More like training waterbenders and making sure our warriors are prepared for anything. Parties aren’t exactly a priority these days."

Zuko remained quiet, watching her interact with the group. He could tell she was a capable leader, someone who was strong but kind, and it made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected. There was something about her, the way she handled herself, that made him feel... off balance.

"You’ve been quiet, Hothead," Toph whispered, her voice dripping with amusement. “What, the princess got your tongue?”

Zuko stiffened, glaring at her. “Shut up, Toph.”

Toph smirked. “Relax, Sparky. Your heart’s pounding like a stampede.”

Sokka, overhearing, grinned from across the table. “Hey, Zuko, how’s it going over there? Enjoying the royal company?”

Zuko glared at him, his face flushing slightly. “I said shut up, Sokka.”

Toph snickered. “Too late. She’s already got you all flustered.”

The next morning, the group gathered at the training grounds to practice their bending. Y/N stood in the center of the field, demonstrating her mastery over water. Her movements were fluid and precise, the water responding effortlessly to her will. Zuko couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by her control and grace.

“Are you just going to watch, or are you going to join me?” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Zuko blinked, realizing she was looking directly at him.

“Uh, I—” Zuko hesitated, glancing at the others, who were grinning like idiots. “I’ll join.”

As he stepped forward, Toph elbowed Sokka. “He’s gonna embarrass himself, I can feel it.”

Sokka grinned. “Maybe he’ll manage to impress her. I doubt it, though.”

Y/N and Zuko faced off, her smile teasing yet focused. “Ready?”

Zuko nodded, trying to push aside the heat creeping up his neck. The spar began, water and fire clashing in a dazzling display of skill. Zuko fought to keep up with her fluid movements, but there was something disarming about the way Y/N moved—almost playful, like she was testing him more than challenging him.

From the sidelines, Toph grinned. “His heart’s pounding harder now. Looks like he’s a goner.”

Katara crossed her arms, smiling knowingly. “I think Y/N might be just what Zuko needs.”

As Zuko and Y/N sparred, it became clear that she was holding back. Her waterbending flowed like a river, never forceful but always controlled, while Zuko’s firebending was more aggressive—he couldn’t help it. The frustration building inside him made his flames larger, hotter, but none of it seemed to faze Y/N.

She deflected his flames with a single movement, sending the water back toward him in a spiraling wave. Zuko quickly dodged, skidding to the side, but as he turned back to counter, he found himself staring straight into Y/N’s teasing grin.

“What’s the matter, Prince Zuko?” she asked, her voice light, playful. “You seem distracted.”

Zuko clenched his fists, his brow furrowing. “I’m not distracted,” he muttered, trying to regain focus.

But it was no use. His mind kept replaying the soft, teasing lilt in her voice, the way her smile seemed to be aimed directly at him. And that only made him push harder, launching another stream of fire toward her. Y/N dodged with ease, stepping lightly across the icy ground as if she were dancing.

“Zuko, breathe,” Katara called from the sidelines, her arms crossed but her voice filled with concern. “You’re not going to win if you let her get under your skin.”

Toph chuckled, her grin widening as she shifted her feet, sensing the vibrations in the earth. “Oh, he’s definitely got more than fighting on his mind.”

Zuko shot a glare in Toph’s direction, but that second of distraction cost him. Y/N took the opportunity to send a jet of water straight toward him, knocking him off his feet. He landed with a thud, the breath knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ice.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sokka burst out laughing. “Oh, man! She wiped the floor with you!”

Zuko groaned, pushing himself up, but before he could stand fully, a hand appeared in his vision. He looked up, seeing Y/N offering him a hand, her expression soft and amused.

“Good match,” she said with a slight smirk. “You put up a good fight.”

Zuko hesitated before taking her hand, feeling the warmth from her fingers despite the cold air around them. He rose to his feet, his eyes locking with hers, and for a brief moment, everything around them faded. There was something in her gaze, something playful but also… understanding. As if she saw something in him that no one else did.

But then the moment was broken by Toph’s snort. “Wow, Sparky, she knocked you down and now she’s got you all tongue-tied too?”

Zuko pulled his hand back quickly, his face flushing as he turned away. “I’m fine.”

Sokka came over, patting Zuko on the back with a grin. “Yeah, sure. Fine. Totally fine. Except for, you know, getting completely owned by a princess.”

“I didn’t get owned,” Zuko growled, shooting a glare at Sokka, who just laughed harder.

Y/N smiled, her eyes still lingering on Zuko for a moment longer before she turned back to the group. “You all must be hungry after watching the match. Come, let’s get something to eat.”

As they headed back to the palace, Toph fell into step beside Zuko, her smirk unmistakable. “You know, Sparky, for someone who claims not to be distracted, your heartbeat was going crazy the whole time. I could feel it all the way from the sidelines.”

Zuko groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you just… not, Toph?”

She grinned. “What? I’m just saying. She’s clearly into you too. You’re just too dense to notice.”

Zuko glared at her, but a part of him couldn’t help wondering if Toph was right. There was something about Y/N—something that pulled him in, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

As they approached the dining hall, Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Zuko’s again for a brief second. She gave him a small, knowing smile before turning back, and Zuko’s heart thudded in his chest.

Toph was right. He was definitely in trouble.

As they gathered in the grand dining hall, the group settled around the long, intricately carved table, the warmth of the firelight bouncing off the ice walls. Y/N took her place at the head, her calm demeanor only adding to the regal aura that surrounded her.

Zuko, sitting across from her, tried to focus on the food in front of him, but his eyes kept flickering back to Y/N. The way her fingers effortlessly twirled a strand of water from her cup, the smile that never seemed to fade, it was all too distracting. The others noticed—of course, they did—and it didn’t take long for the teasing to begin.

Sokka leaned forward, a grin already forming on his face. "You know," he started, glancing between Zuko and Y/N, "it’s kinda poetic, don’t you think? The Fire Prince and the Water Princess. It’s like something out of one of those old love stories."

Katara’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she chimed in. "Yeah, opposites attracting and all that. You two would balance each other perfectly."

Zuko’s face immediately flushed, his hands gripping his chopsticks a little tighter. "We’re not—" he started, but Sokka cut him off with a wave.

"Oh, come on, Zuko. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it." He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Fire and water. It’s practically written in the stars."

Toph snorted from beside him. "I can feel your heart pounding from here, Sparky. You’ve been all jittery since we landed, and it’s definitely not because of the cold."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her amused gaze flitting over to Zuko, who was desperately trying to keep his cool. She didn’t seem flustered at all by the teasing, instead taking it in stride.

"Well," Y/N said with a smirk, her voice light and teasing, "if we’re talking balance, I guess it would make sense. After all, fire needs water to keep it from getting out of control, right?"

The comment sent the group into a chorus of laughter, and Zuko could feel his face heat up even more. He glared at Sokka and Toph, though it did nothing to stop the teasing.

Aang, ever the peacekeeper, grinned as he nodded in agreement. "I think it makes sense! You both have this calm intensity about you. Like… you’re passionate in different ways, but it would complement each other."

"Exactly!" Sokka said, pointing his chopsticks at Zuko dramatically. "See? Even the Avatar agrees! The Fire Prince and the Water Princess, destined to—"

"That’s enough!" Zuko finally snapped, slamming his chopsticks down on the table, his face a deep shade of red. "We’re just… allies. That’s it."

But Y/N, ever calm and unbothered, leaned forward with a playful glint in her eyes. "Allies, huh?" She glanced at the group before meeting Zuko’s eyes again. "Well, I suppose we’ll see what happens, won’t we?"

Zuko nearly choked on his drink at the way she said it, the subtle teasing in her tone making his heart race even faster. He quickly looked away, his mind scrambling for something—anything—to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

Toph grinned, clearly enjoying every second of Zuko’s discomfort. "You’re making this too easy, Zuko. I didn’t even need to bend to feel how hard you’re blushing."

Sokka leaned closer, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "I bet they’ll be exchanging love letters by the end of the week."

Zuko shot him a death glare. "Shut. Up."

But the teasing only continued, the group laughing and throwing playful jabs at the so-called "perfect match" of the Fire Prince and the Water Princess. Through it all, Y/N remained calm, an amused smile on her lips as she occasionally glanced at Zuko, clearly enjoying how flustered he was becoming.

And as the laughter died down and they returned to their meals, Zuko couldn’t help but steal one more glance at Y/N. She caught his eye, giving him a small, knowing smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something to the whole "Fire Prince and Water Princess" idea after all.

The air was crisp and cool as the group moved from the dining hall to the palace’s outer courtyard. The sun had just begun to set, casting shades of pink and orange across the sky, reflecting off the ice sculptures that lined the walkway. Y/N led the way, her steps graceful as she guided them to a peaceful overlook by the water.

Zuko trailed behind, still feeling the heat in his cheeks from the relentless teasing at dinner. Every time he tried to shake the embarrassment, Toph or Sokka would shoot him a look or make another comment under their breath, and it would start all over again.

Y/N, seemingly unbothered by the playful jabs, kept a small smile on her lips as they walked. Her posture was relaxed, her hands lightly trailing along the icy walls of the palace as if she had all the time in the world. Zuko couldn’t help but admire her ease. While the world was on the brink of war, and their futures felt uncertain, she moved through it all with a sense of calm that made everything around her seem less daunting.

It drove him mad—and fascinated him all at once.

As they reached the overlook, Y/N stopped, gazing out at the vast expanse of icy waters. The setting sun cast a golden glow on the waves, the calm surface reflecting the fire in the sky. She turned to face the group, her eyes bright with excitement.

“There’s something I want to show you,” she said softly, motioning for them to sit.

The group gathered around her, curiosity piqued. Aang, always eager to learn new bending techniques, practically bounced on his toes. Katara folded her arms, a smile tugging at her lips, while Sokka, now more relaxed after their earlier banter, sat with his chin propped in his hand.

Zuko, despite his best efforts to act indifferent, found himself leaning closer, his attention fully on Y/N.

With a graceful flick of her wrist, Y/N pulled water from the ocean, bringing it up into a sphere that hovered in the air. She stepped closer to the group, the water shifting and moving as if alive, responding to her every command. Zuko watched as the sphere shimmered, the light from the sunset refracting through it, creating a kaleidoscope of colors.

“I’ve been working on this for a while,” Y/N explained, her voice low and calm. “It’s a technique unique to our tribe, passed down through generations.”

She stepped back, giving the water a gentle push with her palm. It began to spiral, turning faster and faster until it formed a vortex, hovering just above their heads. The group looked up in awe as droplets of water began to fall, catching the light and sparkling like stars.

Even Toph, though unable to see, seemed to sense the beauty of it. “Whoa… that’s pretty cool, Princess.”

“Wait—” Sokka held up a hand. “Is this your way of showing off for Zuko? ‘Cause if it is, I gotta admit, it’s working.”

Y/N shot him a look, her expression soft but amused. “Sokka, not everything is about trying to impress someone.”

Zuko, once again the center of attention, immediately stiffened. “I wasn’t—”

But Sokka wasn’t finished. “I mean, come on, fire and water? It’s like destiny, right?” He leaned back with a smirk. “You two were literally made for each other.”

Y/N laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Is that so?”

Before Zuko could say anything, Aang chimed in, ever the optimist. “He’s kind of right. Fire and water balance each other, just like in nature. It’s all about harmony.”

Toph snorted, smirking in Zuko’s direction. “I dunno, Twinkletoes. I’m still sensing a lot of *tension* from Sparky over here.”

Katara, always the voice of reason, smiled gently at Y/N. “It’s amazing how you control the water so effortlessly. You and Zuko could probably teach each other a lot.”

Zuko, whose face was now burning brighter than the setting sun, couldn’t take it anymore. “Enough!” He stood abruptly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Can we just—” He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Can we focus on the mission, not on… this.”

The teasing grins around him didn’t fade, but they did settle down for the moment. Y/N, however, remained calm, her gaze never leaving him.

“Alright,” she said gently, waving her hand and allowing the water vortex to collapse back into the ocean. “The mission it is, then.”

The group fell silent for a moment, watching the last remnants of the vortex disappear beneath the waves. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the icy shore.

Zuko turned away, embarrassed by how easily the group had gotten under his skin. He was the Fire Prince, and yet, when it came to her, he couldn’t control his reactions. It frustrated him to no end.

But before he could spiral further into his thoughts, Y/N spoke again, her voice soft and steady. “Zuko.”

He hesitated, then turned to face her. She stepped closer, her eyes shining with warmth, not a trace of teasing in her expression.

“I know they’re just messing with you,” she said quietly, so only he could hear. “But if it helps, I’ve always admired your strength. Your fire isn’t something to hide from.”

Zuko blinked, her words sinking in deeper than he expected. She smiled at him, soft and sincere, and for the first time in a long while, Zuko felt like he wasn’t fighting alone.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, stepping back to rejoin the group as they began discussing the next part of their journey. But Zuko couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—something subtle but undeniable.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield as the sounds of clashing elements began to fade. Zuko stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath ragged and his muscles tense as he scanned the area for any lingering members of the Avatar’s group. The fight had been another stalemate, neither side truly gaining ground, but something felt different this time—something he couldn’t quite place.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to shake off the strange feeling gnawing at him. But then, his eyes fell on her.

Y/N, the princess from the other Water Tribe.

She had joined the Avatar’s group only a few weeks prior, and though Zuko had fought them countless times before, her presence had thrown him off balance ever since. Her fluid movements as she bent water were as graceful as they were powerful, and there was a strength in her that intrigued him, though he would never admit it.

Zuko’s gaze followed her as she skillfully deflected a few firebending blasts with ease, her face calm and focused despite the chaos around her. But then, out of nowhere, a blast of fire—hotter and more dangerous than the rest—came hurtling toward her.

Before Zuko even had time to think, his body moved on instinct.

He lunged forward, his feet carrying him across the battlefield faster than he thought possible. With a sweeping motion of his arms, he redirected the fire away from her, sending it into the sky where it dissipated harmlessly.

Y/N stumbled back, her eyes wide in shock as she looked at him. “Zuko…?”

The surprise in her voice mirrored the confusion swirling in his mind. He stood there, frozen for a moment, realizing what he had just done. He had saved her—saved the enemy.

"Be careful," he muttered, his voice low and gruff, doing his best to hide the tremor in it. He turned quickly, not daring to meet her gaze again. “Next time, I won’t be there to save you.”

Without another word, Zuko retreated, disappearing into the forest as the fight slowly came to a close. His heart raced, his mind replaying the moment over and over again, each time making less sense.

Why had he saved her?

---

The Gaang stood dumbfounded as they watched Zuko disappear into the distance, the tension in the air thick with disbelief. Y/N still stood frozen, her mind trying to process what had just happened.

“Wait, did Zuko just save Y/N?” Sokka blurted out, his face twisted in confusion. He pointed toward the spot where Zuko had been moments before. “Zuko?”

“I think so,” Katara responded slowly, her brow furrowed as her eyes darted between Y/N and the distant forest where Zuko had vanished. “Why would he…?” Her voice trailed off, unable to comprehend Zuko’s actions.

“Because it was me or the fire,” Y/N replied, finally finding her voice. “But… yeah, I didn’t expect him to step in.”

Toph, leaning on her earthbending stance, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, looks like Sparky’s got a soft spot.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped. “No way! He’s evil! There’s no way he’d help Y/N unless he’s planning something!”

Aang scratched the back of his head, still wide-eyed. “Maybe he’s not as bad as we thought? I mean, that was a pretty bold move for someone who supposedly hates us.”

Katara crossed her arms, her skepticism clear. “I don’t trust him. It could’ve been a trick.”

Y/N remained quiet, her gaze fixed on the direction Zuko had left. She could still feel the heat of his firebending, not as a weapon, but as a shield. His words echoed in her mind: "Be careful." It was more than just a warning. There was something else in his voice—something almost protective. But why?

Toph let out a snort. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly chasing us down, he sure seems to care about one of us not getting burned alive.”

Sokka groaned dramatically. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me Zuko has a thing for Y/N. The Fire Prince and the Water Princess? That sounds like something out of one of those awful love stories.”

Aang’s eyes lit up, and he grinned mischievously. “Actually, that’s kinda perfect! A firebender and a waterbender—a perfect balance!”

Y/N’s face flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure,” Katara smirked. “But he sure risked a lot to keep you safe. Maybe he doesn’t even know how he feels.”

Sokka crossed his arms. “Oh great, now we have to deal with Fire Nation Romeo making goo-goo eyes at Y/N.”

“Please,” Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck. “He probably just didn’t want to accidentally kill one of us and ruin his whole ‘capture the Avatar’ plan.”

Toph laughed. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Y/N shot her a look, but deep down, even she couldn’t ignore the strange feeling twisting in her stomach. Why did Zuko save her? She wasn’t sure, but the memory of his voice, gruff but concerned, lingered in her mind longer than she wanted it to.

---

Later that night, Zuko sat beside a small fire in their camp, his eyes trained on the flickering flames as if they held the answers to his confusion. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, none of which he wanted to face.

From across the fire, Uncle Iroh quietly observed him, sipping from a small cup of tea. The silence between them stretched on for several long minutes before Iroh finally spoke.

“You seem troubled, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko glanced up, startled, then quickly looked away. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

Iroh chuckled softly. “Ah, I see. So you often sit by the fire looking as though the world is weighing down on your shoulders when everything is ‘fine’?”

Zuko gritted his teeth, the heat of embarrassment rising to his face. His uncle always had a way of seeing right through him. “It’s nothing,” he said again, though his mind was still on Y/N—on the way she had looked at him when he saved her, the shock in her eyes.

Iroh sipped his tea again, his eyes twinkling with knowing amusement. “Was it nothing when you saved the Water Tribe princess today?”

Zuko’s heart skipped a beat, his gaze snapping to his uncle. “You saw that?”

“Of course,” Iroh said, his smile soft but all too wise. “It was quite the unexpected moment, I must say.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “It didn’t mean anything,” he said quickly, almost defensively. “I wasn’t thinking. It just… happened.”

“Ah, yes,” Iroh nodded sagely. “Sometimes, the heart acts before the mind can catch up. A natural instinct, wouldn’t you say?”

Zuko scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have feelings for her,” he snapped, his voice a little too sharp for his liking. “She’s the enemy. I was just… caught up in the moment.”

Iroh chuckled again, his eyes warm with understanding. “Perhaps, Zuko, your heart is beginning to change. Not everything is as black and white as it seems. Enemies today may not always be enemies tomorrow.”

“I’m not having a change of heart,” Zuko insisted, though doubt crept into his words. “I’m still going to capture the Avatar. I haven’t changed.”

“Maybe,” Iroh mused, “or maybe it’s something else entirely.” He gave Zuko a knowing smile. “Perhaps you have a fondness for the princess? A crush, perhaps?”

Zuko’s face immediately flushed, his heart stuttering in his chest. “What? No!” He shot up from where he was sitting, glaring down at his uncle. “I don’t—! That’s ridiculous!”

But even as he said it, the thought lingered, unwelcome but persistent. Why had he saved her? Why did it matter to him? His stomach twisted in knots as he paced, trying to shake the thought away.

Iroh, as always, remained calm and collected. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Zuko,” he said softly. “Feelings are a natural part of life. Sometimes, they come when we least expect them.”

Zuko stopped pacing, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Even if I did feel something—which I don’t—it doesn’t matter. She’s with the Avatar. She’s on the other side.”

Iroh nodded. “True. But remember, life has a way of surprising us. You may find that the people we think of as our enemies today are not so different from us after all.”

Zuko didn’t respond, his mind still racing. He refused to believe his uncle was right. He didn’t care about Y/N. He couldn’t.

But later that night, as he lay staring up at the stars, her face haunted his thoughts. The way she had looked at him with such surprise, the warmth of her voice when she said his name—it echoed in his mind like a melody he couldn’t forget.

And despite himself, Zuko couldn’t help but wonder.

Maybe, just maybe, his uncle was right.

Later that night, Y/N sat by the campfire with the rest of the Gaang. The air was unusually quiet as they all processed what had happened earlier. Katara was stirring a pot of soup, while Sokka was poking at the fire with a stick, his brow furrowed.

Aang was the first to break the silence. “I still can’t believe it. Zuko, of all people, saved you.”

“I know, right?” Sokka chimed in, his voice dripping with disbelief. “The guy has been chasing us across the whole world, and now suddenly he decides to play the hero? What’s his angle?”

Y/N shrugged, though she could still feel the heat of Zuko’s firebending shielding her from harm. “I don’t know,” she muttered, her gaze falling to the ground. “Maybe it was just instinct. He didn’t want things to get out of control.”

Katara snorted. “That’s one way to look at it. But Zuko doesn’t do anything without a reason. There has to be something more going on.”

Toph, who was sitting on a nearby rock with her arms crossed, smirked. “Or maybe it’s a lot simpler than that. Maybe Sparky has a soft spot for our Water Princess.”

Y/N felt her face heat up immediately. “What? No way!” she sputtered, waving her hands dismissively. “That’s ridiculous. He’s just… trying to capture the Avatar like always.”

Sokka leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Or maybe Toph’s right. Maybe it’s love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady despite the embarrassment creeping up her neck. “He’s our enemy, Sokka. I doubt he’s going to fall in love with me in the middle of a battle.”

Aang, ever the optimist, grinned. “Well, you know, water and fire do make a good balance. Maybe there’s something to it!”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Can we not? This is getting ridiculous.”

Toph let out a snicker. “Hey, I’m just saying, I’ve got a pretty good sense of people. Zuko’s definitely got some weird feelings brewing.”

Katara chimed in, her tone a mix of amusement and skepticism. “He’s probably just confused. Saving you doesn’t mean he’s suddenly turned into a good guy. But…” She shot Y/N a teasing smile. “It was kind of sweet, don’t you think?”

Before Y/N could respond, Sokka leaned back, laughing. “Oh man, if Zuko did have a crush, that’d be hilarious. Fire Prince Zuko and Princess Y/N? What a pair!”

Y/N threw a small pebble at him, though her face was still flushed. “Enough, Sokka! It was just a fight. Nothing more.”

But despite her protests, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Zuko had looked at her—like he had genuinely been worried for her. The confusion in his eyes as he warned her to be careful… it wasn’t something she could easily forget.

---

Meanwhile, far from their camp, Zuko lay awake under the stars, staring up at the sky with his hands behind his head. His thoughts were in turmoil, replaying the day’s events over and over again. Why had he saved Y/N? Why had he put himself in danger for her, of all people?

His uncle’s words echoed in his mind. ‘Perhaps you have a fondness for the princess? A crush, perhaps?’

Zuko scowled, pushing the thought away. A crush? On her? That was ridiculous. She was part of the Avatar’s group, the enemy. There was no way he had feelings for her. He barely even knew her.

But the more he tried to convince himself, the harder it was to shake the image of her standing in front of him, looking up at him with wide, surprised eyes. The warmth of his firebending had protected her, but there had been something else—a strange feeling he couldn’t explain.

He groaned in frustration, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. What was wrong with him? Why was this bothering him so much?

“Something on your mind, nephew?” Iroh’s gentle voice broke the silence as he approached, holding two cups of tea.

Zuko flinched but tried to mask his unease. “I’m fine, Uncle,” he muttered.

Iroh sat down beside him, offering him one of the cups. “Hmm. Fine, but still awake and troubled. Would you like to talk about it?”

Zuko hesitated, staring into the fire. He didn’t want to admit what was bothering him, not even to himself. But his uncle always had a way of knowing.

“I don’t know why I saved her,” Zuko finally admitted, his voice quiet. “It just… happened.”

Iroh nodded sagely. “Sometimes, our hearts guide us before our minds can understand why.”

Zuko clenched his fists. “But she’s the enemy. I shouldn’t care about what happens to her.”

“Perhaps,” Iroh said with a knowing smile. “But it seems your heart does care, whether you want it to or not.”

Zuko frowned, his mind still a whirlwind of confusion. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but the more he thought about Y/N, the more complicated everything became.

As the Gaang sat around the campfire, the teasing didn’t show any sign of stopping. Sokka, ever the instigator, leaned back with a mischievous grin, poking the fire with a stick.

“Y’know,” he said, feigning deep thought, “maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong. We’re out here fighting the Fire Nation day after day, but what if the answer’s been right in front of us all along?”

Y/N, already exasperated from the earlier teasing, shot him a skeptical look. “What are you talking about, Sokka?”

He smirked and gestured between her and the fire in the distance where Zuko had last been seen. “A Water Princess and a Fire Prince… Maybe we could bring peace to the world if the two of you just got together. No more fighting. No more chasing. Just a royal wedding to unite the nations.”

Y/N’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and she groaned loudly, covering her face with both hands. “Sokka, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Aang’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Wait, that could totally work! Water and fire are opposites, but together they create balance, just like me mastering all four elements. Maybe Zuko and Y/N could be, like, the ultimate peace-bringers!”

Toph snorted, barely able to contain her laughter. “I can already see it now: Zuko and Y/N, sitting on the throne, holding hands, fighting evil together with love and unity.”

Katara giggled, clearly amused by the idea, though she tried to sound serious. “Honestly, it would be poetic. A Fire Prince and a Water Princess. Opposites attracting and all that.”

Y/N’s hands flew to her face in embarrassment. “Stop it! That is never going to happen!”

But Sokka, already sensing victory, pressed on. “Hey, you never know. Maybe Zuko’s already thinking about it. After all, he did save your life today.”

Y/N sputtered, glaring at him. “He saved me because… because… I don’t know! Maybe he didn’t want me to get hurt so he could keep chasing the Avatar!”

Sokka leaned in, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Or maybe he’s planning to chase you for another reason.”

Y/N stood up, hands on her hips, ready to retort, but she found herself at a loss for words. The others were laughing, and even she couldn’t help the small, flustered smile creeping onto her face. It was absurd—Zuko, the Fire Prince, and her? But somehow, the teasing was relentless, and a small, quiet part of her couldn’t stop replaying that moment in her head—the way Zuko had looked at her when he warned her to be careful.

As the night wore on and the campfire crackled, Y/N tried her best to ignore the teasing remarks, but the seed had been planted. The idea, ridiculous as it seemed, now lingered in her thoughts. And even though the Gaang continued to joke about the "Water Princess and Fire Prince," Y/N couldn’t help but wonder… was it really so impossible?

---

Far away, Zuko tossed and turned on his bedroll, unable to sleep. His uncle’s words about a potential crush swirled in his mind, mixing with memories of Y/N’s face—her surprised expression when he saved her, the way her waterbending flowed with such grace.

He scowled, sitting up abruptly. No, this was ridiculous. He couldn’t have feelings for her. She was the enemy. And yet…