#bc who else can even attempt to understand besides the sisters that she betrayed? and bc they DO understand they forgive her

[infinitefandomimagines]

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

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REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

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"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

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TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter  

[thewinsisterchronicles]

What You’ve Done (P8)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, language, mild violence, angst

see bottom for a/n and tags

Y/N continued to stare at the ceiling. She heard footsteps come closer to the bed she was laying on. Movement drew her eyes towards the figures, but she refused to look away from the water stain above her.

Something touched her briefly- her brain registered a hand- and threw her into panic mode. She swung her left fist into someone’s face, throwing all her strength and momentum from sitting up into it. Dean’s head jerked back a bit. She didn’t have to look at him to know that his nose was fractured, at the very least; the resounding crack! that had echoed throughout the room told her so.

“Fuck!” he sputtered. “Y/N-”

Her name in his mouth sparked something ugly inside her. She drew her other fist back and drove it towards his nose again. He grabbed at his nose, attempting to staunch the blood flow that had already begun to pour from it. She rolled off to the other side of the bed, checking to see she still had all her possessions. She spotted her knife, always carried in her boot, on the kitchen counter. Her core tensed at the thought of someone touching her. She felt sick. Sam noticed her eyes flicker towards the knife and stepped in front of her.

Wait.

Sam.

Dean.

Who the- where the hell- what? Her thoughts spun around in her mind too quickly for her to catch up to them. Y/N risked a glance back to Sam. He looked like he was about to cry, eyes red and straining and a thin smile on his lips that wasn’t fooling anyone. He missed her. He cared for her. He always had.

She supposed it was alright to look at Sam. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. Not Sam, of all people.

Y/N looked between him and his brother. Dean was cupping his hand under his nose, looking hurt by Y/N- which he deserves, the absolute fuckwad- yet, he seemed more relieved than anything. Like she was…

Y/N had only ever seen him look at Sam like that.

She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was barely more than a croak from the back of his throat. She snapped her head towards him. Her body was still rigid, tense; she looked and felt she was practically about to spring out the window. He coughed.

“You’re- you’re back,” he laughed wetly, “I don’t know ho you’re still...” He trailed off. “Though Cl- your dad would’ve... We thought we’d never, uh, see you. Again.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. Her words were cold, emotionless. Sam frowned in confusion, and she could feel Dean do the same. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“We, uh, we got a tip,” Sam coughed after a moment. “From your b- from Matt. Said that you being back… Clyde was angrier. Hot-tempered. More than normal,” he added quickly when he saws her eyebrow twitch upwards.

Matt had always been alright, Y/N supposed. He was more likely to feed her, to patch her up. He was always the patient one out of them all.

Between Y/N, Matt, Derrick, and Clyde, they made up one hell of a family. Matt and Derrick, her brothers, were rarely seen by her. The only time she was around them was when Y/N was sparring, or hunting. Then Derrick had died, and he had been a dick, yes, but he was also Y/N’s brother. The oldest of their family.

The three boys had always gotten along the best. They were true family. And Y/N was jealous.

Often when she was younger, she’d watch as her family would play poker, drink from the same case of beer, as they guffawed about whatever last hunt they’d been on. The one time Y/N had tried to come in and just be a part of what they were doing had resulted in her first set of chores.

She quickly learned how to survive after that.

Dean had told her that she was family. He promised her that she was safe. And while it cut deep into her core that he made a false promise (she’d heard enough to no longer be disappointed by them) or that he had betrayed her (again, she was well educated in the subject), that wasn’t what truly angered her.

She was furious that she had believed him.

“Congratulations.” She stared blankly at Sam. “You found me.”

“You can come with us again,” Sam tried again. He smiled at her, a hopeful suggestion of an offer Y/N now knew better than to take. “What Dean did was wrong- there’s no denying that- but you’re... Y/N, you’re still family to us.”

“You aren’t family to me.” Her voice was still flat. Sam’s face fell, in disappointment and fear and something else Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dean moved to stand beside him, blood having mostly dried up on his shirt. His expression was guarded, but Y/N knew it well enough to understand he was feeling the same. She finally looked at him. “I can trust myself. Not you. I’ll survive on my own.”

“You don’t have to, though.” Sam was desperately trying to break through to her, brown eyes big and warm and familiar. “Y/N, you’re family-”

“No.”

The room didn’t echo in the room. It stopped dead in the air. Sam’s face fell, heartbroken. Dean had to look away.

“Maybe at one point, I was, but not anymore.” She stared at Dean as she spoke in a dazed expression. She tried to look at her surroundings without moving her eyes from his face, but it proved difficult. She returned her focus back to Sam.

“Yes, you are,” he pushed. His eyes were so sincere that she had to look away from him. “Y/n, you’re family; no matter what’s happened to you, or what you’ve done.”

“I’ve done things that would make you say otherwise.”

“Nothing you could do-”

“You have no idea what I’ve done.” Her voice stayed as low as her eyes. Sam’s heart broke for her.

She didn’t care about him, though. Not anymore. His heart meant nothing to her.

It was Dean’s she wanted to crush in her bare hand.

“The things I’ve had to do to survive…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes betraying that her mind was somewhere else, doing something else less desirable. “Your childhood is a fucking playground compared to what I’ve lived through.”

“Y/N,” Dean coughed, finally speaking. “I never meant-”

"I don’t fucking care, Dean." She spat out his name like it was bitter venom on her tongue. Dean winced when she said it. "Do you even have any idea about what you've done to me?"

"Y/N," he said softly. His words were laced with grief. "I'm-"

"What, sorry?" Y/N scoffed. "Do you honestly think that some pathetic 'sorry' is going to make my hands able to tell the difference between a heartbeat and dead body again? Do you think you’re able to heal the damage that’s been done to them? Do you?"

A long moment stretched out the time from when the words left her mouth and when she had realized what she said. She saw as the pieces clicked together in the boy’s minds. Nobody spoke.

"You can't feel your hands?" Sam asked.

A minute passed. Nobody dared breathe. Y/N turned away, clenching her jaw.

"No."

"I can't imagine-" Dean tried.

"You can’t."

"What else did they..."

Y/N laughed humourlessly. She crossed her arms over her chest, smiling sadistically at Dean.

"What else did they do?" She mocked. "Wow, that's a list."

"Y/N..."

"What?" She snapped. "You think I'm going to trust you enough to tell you what happened? When I started living with you, all I asked was that you didn't give me back over to them. It was the only thing I asked of you. You were the first real family I had."

"At least you're safe now," Sam tried. He offered a peaceful end to the argument. Y/N didn't take it.

"‘At least I am safe now,’" she mocked slowly. "At least I couldn't feel my hands when they broke my bone and cut away my skin to see the fractures; at least I was unconscious when they- when they used me; at least my body was unresponsive when I was thrown into a broom closet to sleep in." Her voice was loud, uncontrollable; she saw the room in front of her, but it was like it wasn’t even there.

"At least I got to sneak food off of my fathers plate to survive because nobody fed me," she shouted, tensing uncontrollably. Dean's eyes watered as he refused to break eye contact. "At least he didn't beat me to death when he saw what I did; at least I was awake and conscious when they- when they-"

She began to hyperventilate, reliving her worst memories. She saw Sam, heard Dean, felt them both move closer to her; she couldn’t take it.

She threw her hands out, pushing them away. She could barely form a single word.

“Go.”

It came out mangled, deformed; Y/N tried to collect herself, but every breath came with more flashes of her time with Clyde, with other hunters, with her chores. Her whole frame was shaking erratically, barely letting her stay standing.

Dean reached out to her, making a foreign attempt of comforting Y/N. She flinched. Hard. He tensed his jaw. She cleared her throat, looking between them.

“If you don’t leave, then I will.”

Tags: @zeusmyster @mogaruke @dunkirkcurls @assbutt-still-in-hell @spn67-sister @thegreasiestbear @sammysbeanie @thyotakukimkim @lemonadegazeelle @straightasdeansrainbowslinky @mothman-is-not-bullshit @quotesandvariousthings @mcallmestiles @glasses-are-cool @00girly-tomboy00 @jsbdkabcjskshjd @skeletoresinthebasement @the-glitter-shitter​ @darlingidonotdoshorts-blog @pallas-fox @casifrr

a/n: HEH so the next part is the epilogue and honestly???? I think I can say this bc who tf actually reads a/n’s anymore amirite ladies but i’m thinking that this is just gonna be a sad story. I don’t have actually sad fics that stayed sad (i.e. I didn’t add a second part to them) so I'm thinking i’ll just make this sad and then write up a bunch of fluffy fics afterwards???