#zutara drabble

[exquisink]

@lupanaoflaminar || thanks for the suggestion! apologies for the delay. enjoy!

aang notices a change in the dynamic between zuko and katara.

how does he notice this shift?

appa detects that dramatic shift first--nudging him and pointing out how much closer and intimate they've gotten. from exchanging little whispers, maybe sweet nothings for all that aang knows, or stealing glances when they can. it must cease in aang's world, because he does see katara first and that means she's his turf, thank you very much.

appa disagrees.

never does he feel more betrayed, but if there's anyone's judgment aang trusts more than anyone's, it's appa's. so he knows when to wave that little white flag in the realm of his disastrous excuse for a love life. katara seems interested in zuko, as much as she vehemently denies it to his face.

appa knows better; now aang knows better.

it's another evening of watching those two fumble around each other like imbeciles. ok zuko's the imbecile, especially for weasling his way into her radar like this; katara's the smartest, prettiest, most powerful girl in the world in aang's eyes (though her interest in zuko has him reconsidering that judgment). appa adjusts his position where he is by aang and yawns, just before taking action.

zuko and katara choose to sit next to each other by the fire, but there's a healthy distance between them. something aang appreciates, but apparently appa has other plans. zuko relaxes his posture, tension releasing from his body and feeling at peace in katara's presence. aang continues to glower like a jealous partner. that's just like aang always feels around her. zuko does seem to want to make a move but is petrified about proceeding. firelord title aside, he's just like any other awkward teenager working through complicated emotions like feelings for a girl near and dear to him.

aang tries to ignore the jealousy pooling in his gut. really, he does. he's given the time to back COMPLETELY off. he knows katara doesn't belong to anyone, and she can be with whoever makes her happy. if zuko makes her happy, then that's that. appa has a great judge of character after all and zuko is still his dearest friend above all else.

while katara's attending to some strands of hair that have gone astray from the humidity, zuko admires her with the most soft affection glimmering in his amber eyes. it makes aang sick to his stomach. that's how AANG always looks at katara . . .

he catches zuko glancing at her every now and then, and almost tries to reach his hand out to her, but retracts at the last minute. he's probably groaning to himself, and appa, as fed up with these antics as he is, nudges zuko hard by the shoulder and now he's barely centimeters from smelling katara's freshly washed hair.

"s-sorry! sorry. don't know what got over appa and i uhhhh -- am i invading your personal space?"

katara glances up at him with a puzzled expression before shaking her head with a smile.

"not at all zuko." in fact to zuko's delight and aang's disapproval she scoots into him, practically in his lap. "is that better?"

"i, uh, yes! of course," zuko stammers. appa groans before returning to aang's side, pleased with his role of zuko's personal wingman.

"you know you're supposed to be on my side," aang whispers. "but i guess it's just not meant to be with us."

appa grunts in response, as if to affirm what aang said is true.

[blush-and-books]

microdrabble zutara fic that my darlingest @sunjaesol and dearest @bluefirewrites encouraged me to post here.

post-canon! <3

~.~

She’s on the docks, a couple of weeks after he is crowned the Fire Lord, standing across from him with the sea wind blowing through her hair, and he almost asks her to stay. 

“Is it okay if I write to you?” She asks him, and he feels something chip; a piece of bone from his ribs, a fantasy from his collection of hopes. Once Katara leaves, this will be real. This will be different. He’s supposed to do this on his own – but now that he’s learned the merits of teamwork, the idea of running a country without the help of the Avatar’s crew makes him want to throw up. 

“Only if you’re okay with me writing back,” he tells her. He wants to throw up.

Katara would never turn her back on someone who needs her – would she stay if he needed her help to run a country? Would she stay if he needed her input to begin rebuilding what his father demolished? 

He could never ask her any of that. 

Firstly, because he really just wants. He wants her. He wants her partnership, her input, her presence. He wants her approval in how he fixes things. 

(But Katara doesn’t serve wants, he knows. She doesn’t serve anybody.)

Secondly, because he does not want to be the one to trap her in an illusion of choice. If she wanted to stay, he would accommodate her every wish and pray that she’d still be around each morning when he woke up; but he would never request for her to stay in the country that she spent years of her childhood hating, and he would never interfere with the future that he knows she’s going to build for herself. 

She laughs at his comeback, he almost asks her to stay, she gently wraps her arms around him in a tight hug and he genuinely thinks this might be the last time that he sees her.

Please come back. 

“Thank you, Katara,” he whispers into her hair instead. 

He pretends that she holds him tighter after that – but he’s pretty sure that it was him that pulled her closer instead. 

[calderacitylovers]

A sneak peek

"The worst part of being the Firelord is not being a carefree stupid Lee somewhere in the Lower Ring,” Zuko sits up beside Katara and takes a big crumb out of the loaf, shoving it into his mouth. “I thought you didn’t like being Lee”, she chuckles. “There were some downsides”, Zuko replies, chewing on bread. “Like getting hit on by grannies.” “What? No?!”, Katara’s hand flies to her mouth in surprise and her eyes widen. “The sweet Ba Sing Se grannies were hitting on you?! Do tell!” "Big time! They’d pinch my cheeks, ruffle my hair, and make the dirtiest jokes at my expense", he sighs. "Oh, Zuko… I’m so sorry", Katara’s eyebrows twitch upward as she looks into his eyes. She stretches her arm to squeeze his left shoulder and rub circles on his back. Warmth shoots up Zuko’s spine and he’s not sure he's able to swallow the cursed piece of bread without it getting stuck in his throat. "They had the juiciest gossip though”, he says quietly. “I didn’t even have to leave the tea shop to know what was going on in the city. I don’t think my current spymaster would ever measure up." “What does your spymaster tell you these days?”, Katara removes her hand from Zuko’s back to pluck another piece from the loaf and then dunks the crumb into apricot jam. A drop of jam lazily drips down her ring finger as she lifts the piece of bread to her mouth and chews. She quickly runs the side of her sticky finger between her lips. Zuko is one split-second away from being caught staring. He swallows and clears his throat. “That’s a breach of national security, Ambassador”, he sounds hoarse. “Seriously, Zuko”, Katara insists. “Are you telling me no one made an attempt on your life while I was traipsing across the remote marshes?” “I was exactly where you left me five weeks ago. Safe and sound as a turtleduck chick in its nest"

[elmundodeflor]

And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

[reticenceofladyeva]

hoax xvi (you knew the password so I let you in the door)

Aang peers over the edge of the saddle. Zuko hits the water in a nearly perfect dive, and then Aang loses sight of him. He huffs. "What was that about?"

Sokka yawns. "Just a jerkbender doing his jerkbendery thing, Aang. Besides, he probably doesn't want us to watch Katara kill him."

"Katara wouldn't kill him, Sokka." Aang protests.

Sokka shrugs, much too nonchalantly for Aang's comfort. "She might."

They land Appa down the beach a ways from the camp, and Aang speeds ahead of Sokka and Toph on his air scooter, kicking up sand and tiny shells in his wake. He has to get to Katara. He's missed her so much while the three of them were in prison, and it's like the glimmer of water on the horizon for a man in the desert.

Zuko is kneeling in the sand, forehead nearly touching the ground, when Aang skids into the group of tents. Water Tribe warriors eye the firebender warily as they pretend to go about their tasks. He is murmuring something to Katara, who is poised over him with half the bay at her command, ready to drown Zuko if she lets go of it. Aang takes a moment to admire her.

She's grown since he saw her last, from a young girl two years older to a grown woman. Her hair has been cut short, and the ends just brush her chin. It curls more than it used to now that it isn't weighed down, and it frames her face in an umber halo. She's traded her Water Tribe blues for a brown and green Earth Kingdom hanfu made of practical, sturdy material, and it falls over curves in her hips that Aang doesn't remember her having.

She's beautiful.

She's beautiful and then she's sinking to her knees in front of Zuko, allowing the water to fall back into the bay as he pulls her into him. Katara wraps her arms around his shoulders as his slip around her waist, and then one of his hands comes up to hold the back of her head, fingers tangling in the curls. Katara leans into him, burying her face into his shoulder, and Aang can see her shaking. The Water Tribe warriors have stopped pretending to be busy now, and they watch her with open surprise.

Then, a toddler staggers out of a tent, General Iroh on his heels. Aang sucks in a breath sharply.

The oasis on his horizon slips away, nothing but a desert mirage.

[kittenshift-17]

"Thank you, I really hate it" for Zutara?

"Your crown, Fire Lord Zuko," Katara announced with a flourish as she stepped back after carefully fastening the fire crown into Zuko's hair, letting him see the final effect in the mirror.

"Thank you," Zuko said dryly after examining the headpiece. "I hate it."

Katara giggled, shaking her head and swatting at his arm.

"You only have to wear it for the length of the meeting with the senators," she reminded him. "And I promise I'll help you take it off later."

Zuko met her gaze in the mirror, heat in his gold eyes.

"Just the crown?" he teased, smirking.

Katara pressed her lips together, trying to stifle her smile and failing miserably.

"I could also be persuaded to help you out of your royal robes," she offered imperiously, and she squealed when Zuko lunged for her, intent on helping her out of her own royal robe before they could bother about the senator meeting.

"Zuko!" Katara gasped when he caught her with ease, reeling her in until he had her caged in his arms and could kiss her soundly.

"Katara," he teased in the same voice before claiming her lips for a searing kiss.

"We're going to be late," Katara managed to get out between breathless kisses.

"Mmm," Zuko hummed in agreement, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and claiming it all over again. "I'm the Fire Lord. A Fire Lord is never late. Everyone else is simply early."

"So arrogant," Katara chided before he kissed her breathless all over again, his hands sliding up the backs of her thighs and taking her royal dress with them.

They were definitely late to the meeting. Again.

[nyastesticles]

I don’t care what you say, I’m a proud zutara shipper 👍🏾

[ok-boomerang]

Hey Lena!

Zutara Drabble # 5 & 8, please. ^.^

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” & “Wanna bet?”

Katara knocked once, briefly, on the Fire Lord’s office door before pushing it open and inviting herself in. She and Zuko had worked together for so long—had been friends for so long—that they no longer had the need, or the patience, for a semblance of formality.

Katara supposed that on some unlucky day in the future she might walk in on him practicing his Iroh impression, or worse (better?), with his pants down. But per usual, the Fire Lord was merely at his desk, head in hand, as his glazed-over eyes scanned some boring parchment.

“Hey Zuko,” chirped Katara, feeling herself almost expand upon seeing him, upon seeing the transformation of his face when his eyes fell on her—the subtle widening of his right eye, the easy smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he said in response, setting his parchment aside and giving her his full attention. A piece of hair had fallen out of his top knot. “My favorite ambassador—"

“Mhm, whatever,” she joked back. “Funny how I become the favorite every time the fishing waters treaty is up for renewal—"

“You’re always my favorite, I just happen to point it out at specific times.”

Katara rolled her eyes, even though she felt her cheeks warm a little at Zuko’s words.

“Anyway,” she said, shrugging off that impossibility, “I’m just delivering the report on the healers in Fire Fountain City.” She handed him another piece of parchment, which Zuko took with some hesitation.

“The report on the healers—?” he muttered, eyes scanning the page. “But I didn’t need this for a couple more days—”

“Yes, well, Tanriq invited me to the Fire Lantern Festival tomorrow evening, so I got it done early.”

She watched as Zuko’s eyes stopped scanning the parchment, but he didn’t look up.

“Tanriq?” For some reason, his voice had gone up in pitch.

“Do you know another Tanriq?” Katara asked, curious at Zuko’s confusion.

“The—the ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe?”

“Of course,” said Katara slowly.

“You’re—together?”

“No,” she said immediately, and then chided herself. “I mean—I’m giving him a chance. So…maybe in the future? We’ll see how it goes—”

“It’s not going to go well,” Zuko interrupted her.

Katara blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I mean,” Zuko said, bringing his hands in front of him on the desk and rolling them together. “I just mean—it’s just a little odd, the two of you—the Fire Lantern Festival—"

“What’s so odd about it?” Katara asked, half surprised and half curious about the issue Zuko saw that she couldn’t. “I like festivals.”

“Right, but do you like them with Tanriq? I—I dunno you will.”

“Sure, he’s a little boring—”

“He doesn’t know you at all!” Zuko interjected, and then quieted, shifting his eyes. But he continued. “I mean, will he know to take you to the food stalls that sell ocean kumquats? Will he take you dancing early enough so you don’t miss the tsungi horn players?”

Katara laughed. “I can tell him not to!” she pointed out. “You don’t need to be worried for me, I’m sure we’ll have a fine time—”

“Wanna bet?”

Katara stared at him. “Do I want to…make a bet about whether I’ll enjoy myself on a date?”

“Um,” said Zuko, shifting in his seat so that the chair squeaked. The panic on his face did not match the regality of his formal robes. “No, that was uncalled for, sorry,” he said. “I—I—”

And as Zuko stuttered, and Katara stared at Zuko’s rapidly reddening cheeks, she came to an unlikely—but perhaps possible?—conclusion.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She had to fight the urge to clap a hand to her mouth in horror. And if Zuko had looked skeptical whatsoever, she would have curled in on herself and scurried out the door like a goat dog with its tail between its legs. And then possibly quit her job and moved to the Foggy Swamp.

But Zuko didn’t look skeptical. Zuko did not calmly and coolly reject her suggestion. Instead, he noisily backed up his chair, stood, buried his hands in his hair, and yelped, “Me?! Jealous?! No—no, definitely not!” And then he laughed like an unhinged hyena leopard.

“I—” Katara started, over what sounded like the beginnings of a panic attack. “I—um,” she said, reminding herself that she was a waterbending master and teacher to the Avatar and she was not scared of anything—“I won’t go with him. If you—um—if you don’t want me to,” she said, knowing that her tone had drastically changed from teasing to serious.

Zuko’s laughter died down and he matched her serious expression. “Katara, no—I would never try to insert myself in your personal life—I’m sorry, I just got, um—” he paused, but didn’t finish his sentence.

“Can I take your bet then?”

“What?”

“But for the other side. I bet you I won’t have a nice time with Tanriq.”

“I—look—I was being childish—of course you’ll have a nice time—”

“Maybe,” she said, and Zuko’s face fell for the briefest moment before he schooled it to one of impassive regard once more. “But I think I’ll have a nicer time with someone who knows me better, like you said.”

Zuko looked away from her and stretched his arm behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I think you should go with whoever you want to go with,” he muttered.

Katara wanted to scream. But…she did want this more than she wanted to scream. “You,” she said, only a smidge of frustration in her voice. “I’d rather go with you.”

Zuko’s eyes snapped to hers. “Oh? Is that—is that—is that right?”

“If, um, if you want to,” she murmured, suddenly feeling her mortification rise. What if she’d gauged this wrong? She did get along with Hu in the Foggy Swamp. She could totally start a new life there.

“Yes,” Zuko said immediately. “I mean—yes. I do want.” His eyes were boring into hers.

“Um, great,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “So…I’ll tell Tanriq nevermind…and you’ll just need to tell your guards—”

“No,” Zuko said, leaning forward now, and Katara felt her blood thrill. “Many of the festival goers will wear masks. We can too.

“Really? But I don’t have a mask—"

“Don’t worry, I have an idea for us.”

[kazoosandfannypacks]

and grandma's baking

zuko x katara

 "What are these?" Zuko asked, pointing at a tray of holiday cookies in front of them.

 "Butterballs," Katara said, "they're Gran-Gran's specialty."

 He picked one up to taste it, finding that, despite the thick coating of powdered sugar, the cookie itself was delightfully crisp and crunchy.

 "What do you think?" Katara asked.

 "A little bit soft," Zuko said, "but still stands up for itself-- and sweet. To be honest," he smiled and took her hand in his, "it reminds me of my other favorite thing from the water tribe."

 She smiled as well, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

the christmas time again collection | also on ao3

[the-badger-mole]

Prompt 47 with zutara

"No one needs to know.”

That was Katara’s mantra. So what, she had a crush on Zuko. He was the first age appropriate guy she’d been around since Jet, and he was handsome. It only made sense. It didn’t help that Suki was with them now, and she and Sokka were being so obnoxiously enamored with each other. Katara felt left out, that was all. That’s why her palms got sweaty when Zuko smiled at her. That’s why she wanted kiss him when he offered to help with chores. Nothing more. And it was a secret she would die with.

[broadwaybalogna]

send prompts it is!!

because I just finished a math test and need my blorbos to suffer with me, let's have zutara in a modern au where they take a math test together! 😊

one of them would have a pretty low score and fluff and comfort ensues

(i hope I pass)

I’ve literally been waiting all night for another prompt to pop into my inbox and this is so cute omg!!!

Have I ever said how much I love modern Zutara? Because I LOVE modern Zutara.

Also- I hope you pass your test! Sending all luck your way~

Oh yeah, before I start this. I would like to reiterate that I am an American. Apparently different counties have different ways of grading but for me an A is a 90-100, a B is an 80-90 and a C is around a 70-80. D is 64 up and F is anything below. Just thought I should point that out before I begin.

Zuko moved out of his dad’s house when he was fifteen. Well, more like he was kicked out and he displayed little to no reluctance to leave. After his mother had left, he had little hope of seeing his father redeem himself.

But Zuko found that old habits died hard. Because even though his uncle was one of the most caring people he had ever met, there was still this overwhelming anxiety Zuko felt when he did something wrong. Especially in school.

In Zuko’s experience, school was the easiest way for Ozai to control Zuko. He spent most of his nights either studying or hiding, only ever leaving his room for dinner. His father checked his grades twice a day (he had figured out Zuko’s school username and password) to make sure Zuko was on top of everything. So when Zuko moved, his mentality regarding school didn’t change, even if his environment had.

He found himself still cooped up in his room reading through books, skipping meals, and solving equations well into the night.

That changed when he met Katara.

Katara was what many people called a “nerd”. But she still looked pretty so she didn’t get teased nearly as much as she would’ve had she not been. Katara, like Zuko, aced tests and projects. However, Katara, unlike Zuko, was an enthusiastic learner. She would raise her hand every chance she got in class to answer a question or ask for clarification. She even sometimes corrected their teachers on their mistakes. Needless to say, Zuko gave her a lot of side eyes.

They didn’t have very many classes together, especially since she was a grade below his, but she had been moved up to Zuko’s Math, English, and Physics classes. She apparently also took on level Biology which made Zuko’s head spiral.

At first, they barely spoke a word to one another. But once acknowledging each others academic achievements, they began so talk every so often during free time in classes. Katara would often be working on something for another class while they talked, though. Zuko still found it relaxing. Although she enjoyed it more, she still understood the pressures of school and the mental spirals it would put people through.

One thing led to another and they began studying together as well. Zuko couldn’t really help her with Biology (it was an elective. Seriously, who takes a core class as an elective??) but they exchanged notes and shortcuts for other classes. Zuko was able to give her a lot of tips on writing papers for English since he had a politician for a father (finally, Ozai was good for something).

Katara was a beast at math, though. She tackled each problem like it was common sense. Since it was a higher level, she was still challenged, but not nearly as much as other kids in their class were. It was no wonder Katara also took physics, the science that revolves around math.

The one thing she struggled with was history. Zuko learned very early into their friendship that Katara was absolute ass at memorizing anything. The only way she was able to memorize formula’s was because she would repeat them over and over throughout study sessions until it drove them both insane. So Zuko found himself helping her most with that subject.

One night, when a study session ran much longer than it should’ve, Iroh suggested she stay with the two of them for the night. That was her first and most notably, not last, sleepover at Zuko’s. Actually, it was the furthest thing from her last. It became part of their routine for her to stay over once or twice a week to keep studying. Iroh tried to get them to relax and take breaks every so often, which they did, but most of their time was spent either studying or talking.

Then even more of their time was spent talking.

Then a really good portion of their time was spent going on walks midday and talking.

And Zuko enjoyed it so much. He seriously enjoyed just being able to breathe. He felt genuenly free when he was with Katara, studying or not.

But both Zuko and Katara soon realized that prioritizing their mental health over school had consequences.

It had been time for their unit test in math, a test both of them had forgotten to study for the night before. Zuko mentally beat himself up over and he could see Katara out of the corner of his eye drop her head onto her desk.

They were so screwed.

Or, well, just Zuko was screwed. Turned out that Katara’s ‘mathematical Common sense formulas’ came in handy and get her an 79% on the test. Although she had never gotten a grade below an 85 in the class, she still let out a sigh when she checked her grade in her phone.

“Are they out?” Zuko asked, already pulling out his phone to check his own grade.

“Yeah. Ugh, I’m so screwed. Sit brought down my semester grade to a 89.”

“That big of a jump? I thought you had a 96 earlier?”

“This was worth a lot of points. I feel so stupid.”

Katara continued to ramble but Zuko tuned her out as he looked at his grade from the light below him.

61.

He pursed his lips and closed his eyes, convinced that it was all a hallucination.

“Nine was a hellscape and- hey, are you okay?” He heard Katara say as he looked back down to his phone.

61.

It was still there, staring at him, no, laughing at him from the grade-book. Zuko felt like he could hear his father’s voice yelling at him, lecturing him over the horrifying careers that lie ahead of him based on this one mistake.

“Zuko? Can you hear me?”

Could he hear her? For some reason, he didn’t know how to answer.

“Iroh! Something’s going on with Zuko!” That was the last thing Zuko registered before he felt his chest heave and his mind race.

When Zuko could finally register the things around him again, he was in his bed laying down. He turned to his side and saw Katara pacing in his bedroom.

“Kat?”

“Zuko! Oh my god, toh scared the bejesus out of me! Are you okay? Do you need me to get you a water?”

“That would be nice.”

“Good, because I already got you one.” Katara tached over to Zuko’s bedside table and passed him a cup of water. Classic Katara, always being one step ahead. “Iroh said you had a panic attack. I assume it was over- um…” Zuko thought back to what had happened. Right.

“Yeah, my bad.”

“Oh no! Not your bad! In no way is this your bad, Zuko! This is your shitty father’s bad- no- your shitty father’s worst,” she corrected herself.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“Zuko,” Katara finally said, lowering her voice and finally becoming more calm, “I don’t really know much about your relationship with your dad- or school. But it was so nice seeing you actually happy and talking these past few days. It really put things into perspective for me. I realize that I’ve been studying so much all the time, that I never thought about how it affected you. I’m sorry.”

“What? No, don’t be sorry. My relationship with school is.. complicated at best, but in no way is any of it your fault,” he sat up to face Katara, “but I have realized how much more I like being free. I just need to find a balance.”

“Could I- could I help you find it?” Katara asked after a short moment has passed.

“I’d love that.”

They both smiled and Katara engulfed Zuko in a soul-crushing hug. Zuko’s heart did a little flip and he let out a sigh.

He liked this.

He also might like Katara.

He was happy with those conclusions.

It’s 1am and I have state testing tomorrow (today??) so GOODNIGHT!

[fallen-in-dreams]

Title: Kiss the Girl

Pairing: Katara/Zuko

Rating: Teen

Summary: He admired her technique. Her form. Her body. Everything about her. But he didn't see her attack coming. The Gaang enjoys some relaxation while Zuko stresses over an important letter. But Katara is having none of this all work and no play version of her boyfriend.

Author’s note:  Please excuse any and all corniness, typos etc. Especially the title. Couldn't think of anything else. I wrote this on my phone (laptop is being a bitch) and it's a first time experience. 😇 Everything seems longer on the phone so this is very short and (hopefully) sweet. Enjoy. :)

.:.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The weather was unusually hot, even for the Fire Nation, so the Gaang were splashing in the water of the ponds in his childhood home.

Zuko sat in a pavilion, attempting to pen a difficult letter that could have waited until the cool of the evening kicked in, but he wanted to get the words down while the inspiration for this communication was distracted.

Katara.

The only Gaang member who wasn't splashing about like a kid. Instead she was, as was to be expected, bending the water like a master. Her form was sublime and majestic as she pushed and pulled the water with intent. Her body would twist and turn with the movement of the water, a look of intense concentration on her face.

It almost looked like she was trying to mould it into a sculpture.

Zuko paused in his penmanship once more, to admire her technique.

Her body.

The trails of moisture that trickled over her form. Some of it was sweat, from the heat of the day. Some of it was water droplets suspended in the air, vibrating from the power of her water bending.

Zuko lowered his quill and swallowed heavily as Katara twisted once more, knee deep in the water, a wicked grin on her face the only warning before the swathe of water under her control lifted into the air and disappeared from his view for a moment.

Now, Katara had a silly side. It had shown itself before but the end of the war seemed to have awoken something deeper inside her. She was determined to set aside the mothering instincts she'd honed growing up, and perfected while helping Aang save the world.

But she felt no desire whatsoever to baby Zuko. The girl who had become a woman was not his mother. No. His lover. His world.

And his world was as unpredictable a she was entrancing and distracting. The water from her bending appeared in front of Zuko's pavilion and Katara turned to face him as his eyes widened.

"No."

"What's the matter, Sparky?" Toph called. "Afraid of a little water?!"

Zuko stood quickly as Katara's grin became positively evil. 

"Katara," he warned with a growl.

She just smiled.

"Better come into the water before Sugar Queen rains on your parade."

"Join the fun!"

That was either Aang or Soka. Zuko wasn't paying attention. His eyes were narrowed on Katara's as she silently threatened him.

He sighed and set the letter aside.

"Good boy," she said softly as Zuko strode into the water.

Her smile turned into a frown as he grabbed her wrists.

"Zuko?"

Katara let out a squeal as he pulled her to him, the water under her control erupting over their heads. The droplets he'd been admiring on her body now awash with streams of water that steamed at the heat of his proximity.

Zuko cupped her face in his hands, enjoying the way her face darkened impossibly further at his delicate touch.

Gold eyes peered into blue and the world froze around them. Her breathing deepened. His mouth was suddenly very dry. Eyes widened and breaths intermingled.

She was close enough to kiss. His lips brushed over hers gently and she trembled.

"Zuko..."

"I need to finish this letter."

She pouted. "I know. I just miss you."

"And your father needs to be informed that we're officially courting before he hears about it from someone else."

Katara lifted her chin, trying to press her lips to his, but he kept out if reach. She huffed.

"He's hundreds of miles away."

"I know."

"Just kiss the girl!" Suki shouted from nearby, breaking the moment.

"Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Toph began the chant and the others quickly chimed in.

Zuko sighed. "They're so childish."

Katara smiled. "But they're right."

He nodded and pressed their lips together. Neither paid attention to the whoops of celebration as they embraced. Devoured each other.

The letter to her father could wait, after all.

[riseswiththesun]

tell me what you really feel

mini drabble/ficlet based off this comic by @mayskalih! i saw her first hc about this and had wanted to write something but then she did the comic and i literally got up and wrote this sksks so thank you for the brainrot LOL

not sure when the canon time frame of this would be I kinda made it vague, so you can imagine it how you want tbh lol, I kinda imagine them a bit older, so like canon divergence/post canon

ao3 link

word count: 2.5k

title inspired by lyrics from the song like or like like by miniature tigers

He hates to admit how much the words sting when Sokka says them. 

Lovebirds.

Zuko feels like he did as a child; the way he feels is almost petulant, wanting something he knows he cannot have. The way feelings he can't quite discern—anger, jealousy, sadness, bitterness, perhaps, he isn't sure, and he doesn't even really want to know—pool at the bottom of his stomach, leaving him uneasy. But he knows all of this is so painfully trivial, pathetic even, how such a nonsensical word almost sends him into a downward spiral of emotions.

But Sokka only confirmed what he’s expected—what he’s known. 

He’s seen the way that the two of them smile at each other, the way she seems almost happier, lighter, brighter, around Aang—something he would be foolish to think she would ever be around him. And so even though he’s been clinging to their few brief moments of amicability, the few moments of vulnerability, and the few brief touches that he’s clung onto more than he likes to admit, he knows his place. He’s grateful for the forgiveness he’s been granted, and that, albeit unfortunately, will just have to be enough.

Zukko never wanted to come to terms with these feelings—if that’s what they even are. He’s tried to tuck them into the back of his mind, being content with where they currently remained—something he didn’t want to grapple with. But now, the painstaking realization has hit him that his feelings are large and grand, knowing that it’s more than just admiration or maybe even something as menial as a crush. He cares, feelings that feel large and grand in a way that he can’t quite comprehend. But he knows that he likes how he feels understood, and he likes how he feels that he’s not someone who’s broken, and he likes that he feels that he is someone who is capable of doing good things—of making a change, of becoming good again. And even aside from that, he likes that she is all things good, that she is hope, that she is someone who deserves better—which is something that he knows that he is not.

So because he cares, he allows for the upturn of his own lips as he watches the two of them, the sun casting down glowing rays—something almost out of a picture, and he thinks to himself: this is what she deserves, what she wants.

And because he cares, cares in a way that it aches in the deepest swells of his chest, he turns to Sokka, nodding in agreeance, the same smile on his face as he speaks.

“You’re right, Sokka,” he says almost breathily, forbidding any sort of indication of the affliction that hangs low in his throat to show in his voice. “We should help them.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Katara feels a shift—something is off. 

It feels harmless at first; she doesn’t think much of it. It starts with Sokka’s calculated glances towards her, almost as if he has some sort of intention behind his stares. He has the same look on his face when he talks about war plans or whenever he’s discussing something concerning logistics—he’s plotting, but she doesn’t know what. 

She sees the way he and Zuko share mutual looks, almost as if it’s something they’re in on together. It felt harmless at first, the way they’re insistent on certain things, guiding her to certain parts of the camp, directing her to do certain tasks that normally they wouldn’t have her do, but then it crosses into a certain territory where it raises flags, and she knows that something’s off, but she can’t quite figure out what.

It makes the energy within the camp feel strained—she can tell that Sokka is being sneaky, like he’s hiding something from her, or maybe even all of them, which only floods her with additional anxiety—something she already feels she has enough of, and doesn’t need more of at a time like this; Toph is indifferent as always; Suki constantly looks as if she’s worried, almost as if she knows what’s going on, but refuses to say much of anything; Aang tries to keep spirits up, acting as he always does, which that much she can appreciate, her one small semblance of normalcy; but then there’s Zuko, who she doesn’t know how to describe his behavior, but all she knows is his is the person’s behaviors whose bothers her the most. 

She hates that once she finally found herself comfortable with him, almost seeking him out, almost desiring to be near him, he’s decided he no longer wants to be near her, taking every opportunity to push her away. Every instance in which she attempted to even talk to him, whether it be for something small, or even when she tries to seek out his assistance, he’s quick to call someone in replacement of him.

Katara huffs to herself, feeling exasperated by everything that’s been going on the last few days. Part of her feels like she’s being dramatic, something everyone wouldn’t hesitate to tell her, but she knows that something is wrong, and she hates that it bothers her so much. 

She finds herself roaming aimlessly around their campsite, searching for some form of respite, anything at this to put her mind at her ease. She sees Aang and Zuko sitting and talking, prompting her to try and join them, hoping talking with them could jog her spirits even the smallest bit knowing the two of them are two people that as of lately, are the only ones who she feels like understand her most.

“Hey,” Katara calls out as she approaches them, a smile on her face, “Can I join you guys?” She takes a seat before they can even answer, assuming she’ll receive an eventual yes. She somewhat receives one in the form of Aang’s returned grin, but Zuko’s body stiffens at the sight of her. The smile she saw from afar has been replaced by a face she once deemed as cold—an expression she didn’t associate e 

“U-uh,” he hesitates, quickly standing up. “I-I gotta go…” Walking away before the two of them can question his reasonings for leaving.

Aang and Katara share confused glances, before both their eyes follow Zuko to the other side of their camp, joining Sokka in whatever it is he seems to be doing. Aang gives her a shrug before he continues the conversation, but Katara no longer has any interest in talking, her mood seemingly gone sour.

But most of all, she hates the feeling in her chest, something almost like a tear in her heart, that occurred the second that Zuko left, taking all the air in her lungs with him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Zuko concludes that solitude is the best course of action. 

He knows that he’s doing the right thing, the honorable one even, but it doesn’t make it any more bearable. He almost wishes that he felt the petty rage and jealousy that he felt with Mai—anger, at least, is an easier concept to grapple with. 

But he finds that whatever this is, he can only take in strides, the gravity of his feelings being a harsh reality that he’s been forced to come to terms with. Each time Zuko aids in this plan of theirs, he knows it’s for a greater purpose, one that he would put above his own desires and feelings (something that the Zuko before would have never considered), so he continues, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. 

Though despite being someone who's changed, valuing those who he cares about, it’s in his innate being as a person to at times, wallow. So he concludes that solitude is in fact the best course of action. Because in isolation, there he can bask in his emotions without fear of being questioned; there is nobody to judge his seemingly childish tantrums, when all of it just feels so unfair, and why him; but most of all, there he can live in the bliss in  knowing he’s the only one who knows just how much his feelings have amounted to, and just how much he may have fucked up in allowing them to get to that point. 

So he keeps to himself in the moments that he can, doing whatever tasks he can alone, cherishing the few moments of privacy he gets to wrestle with his emotions. He clings to whatever noises around him, hoping they can somehow bring him back to earth, but it’s normally much to no avail—the crackle of the fire and the buzzing of insects in the night sky only provide cursory background noise to the never ending state of chaos of his mind. 

In Zuko's mind, he feels as though there’s a constant influx of emotions, so much so that he almost doesn’t feel smaller hands against his back, jolting him out of his thoughts, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Hey, Zuko,” a voice that could belong to nobody other than Katara calls out from behind him. He feels his body stiffen at her touch, no longer used to the close contact, even in the few instances it had occurred. Zuko turns to face her, her face showing clear signs of displeasure, but before Zuko can even question why, she keeps talking. “Why are you avoiding me?” She asks, anger, or maybe even hurt, Zuko thinks, hanging in her voice. 

His eyes go wide, but he quickly tries to regain his composure, not wanting to raise any sort of concern. He thinks to what he’s done for the entirety of the week whenever Katara’s had any sort of issue, knowing there’s a better solution than him to her problems. 

“Let me go get Aang…” He says gently, trying not to make matters worse. 

Her face scrunches at this, releasing out a huff—she’s upset. Zuko tries to think of what he could’ve done to upset her, all he’s done since they’ve made amends is try his hardest to do right by her, and he feels like he constantly keeps coming up short, only confirming what he’s known for so long—she deserves better. 

“You’re not going anywhere—you don’t need to get Aang, this has nothing to do with him,” she starts, closing the distance between them. Zuko can see the telltale signs of her anger, the face she makes when she’s fed up with all of them, when they’ve pushed her buttons too hard, or worn her patience too thin—the furrow between her brows, the narrow of her eyes, the rosiness in her cheeks, the exasperation in her voice. “What’s wrong, Zuko? Why are you avoiding me? Why is it that every time I try to talk to you or ask for your help, you suddenly call Aang or leave?” She asks angrily, before her voice gets quiet, as if she’s nervous to finish the rest of her sentence, “Did I… do something?” 

Zuko didn’t think there was a feeling that felt worse than how he already did, but the look on Katara’s face, one that had just been filled with anger, that now holds so much hurt, is enough to make him fess up to the whole ruse—he doesn’t want to leave any room for misinterpretation. 

“I-I wanted to help you and Aang!” He blurts out. “Sokka told me you liked each other, so we’ve… been trying to help you two. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea but… that’s why I’ve been doing that, for you two.”

Her face twists, this time not in anger, but what he thinks is annoyance. Katara lets out a pained huff, pinching her nose and closing her eyes, almost as if she had to take a moment to process his words. 

“You two are idiots,” she sighs. 

This time, it’s Zuko's turn for his face to scrunch up, but for him, rather than anger or annoyance, it’s in confusion. He raises his brows, leaning against the wall behind him, “What?”

Katara steps closer, cutting the distance between them from arm’s length to inches away in just a few seconds. She leans in, pressing her hands against the stone wall behind him for support. Their faces are so close he can feel her breath tickling his cheek, he feels his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty, the result of too many emotions and her presence alone. 

“Zuko, I don’t like Aang…” She says. “I like you.”

He blinks at her, feeling dumbfounded. The words hang in the air, almost as if they’re waiting for Zuko to take them and physically make himself process them, screaming at him to comprehend the gravity of what she means, but Katara, instead, does it for him, giving him no time for things like insecurity or misunderstanding. She closes the distance between them, pressing her lips onto his. 

At first, Zuko feels his body tense—one too many shocking proclamations have occurred, leaving him incapable of processing things at a normal rate. By the time his mind has finally processed her words, I like you, his body finally has caught up to reality, taking him out of the state of limbo he’s since been existing in—those few seconds between before and after her profession—he feels Katara pull away, just after he’d finally become accustomed to the way her lips felt against his. 

He feels his cheeks flush, seeing the way she looks at him, waiting for his response. Her eyes have a look in them, softness almost, something akin to hope, Zuko thinks. They stare at one another, at a loss for words, both too scared to break the silence between them, the only sound their bated breaths and the drumming of their heartbeats. 

Zuko has never been the best at emotions or words, he thinks the best course of action in this scenario is just doing. So this time, it’s Zuko who leans forward, cupping her cheek affectionately before pressing his lips onto hers with a confidence he didn’t know that he had in himself. 

And though Zuko isn’t perfect, and he still has so much to learn, so much growing to still do, maybe he is deserving of good things, and there are people who are capable of seeing the good in him too. He thinks that maybe later they can talk more about their feelings and specifics and whatever other misunderstandings may have occurred, but for now, he enjoys the way she feels underneath his touch, a feeling he wants to tattoo in his memory, a moment like this he will remember forever. 

All the feelings of self doubt and insecurity and the little voices that scream inside him, you aren’t enough, begin to dissipate with every little press of her mouth against his. It feels sweet and it feels new and it feels like the good in life that he’s been searching for. 

When he finally pulls away, he looks at her, admiring how the fire casts a glow on her face, her cheeks rosy, and her lips plush. Her eyes sparkle, and Zuko never realized, or at least he’s never allowed himself to admit just how beautiful she really is. 

He feels a warmth settle inside him, the corners of his lips upturning. And there’s more that he wants to say, but his mind, always an influx of emotions, albeit this time, positive ones, settles on: “I like you too, Katara.”

[soopersara]

Fic Printing

Anthology time!

I'm gonna be honest, I've had the Brightest in the Dark collection sitting around for... a while now. Why didn't I post about it until I got a second anthology printed? I dunno. Probably laziness.

In any case, that's all of the drabbles and oneshots (plus a short multichapter) I've written so far printed up in 2 volumes. The printable PDFs will be linked in the reblog for anyone who may be interested!

Photos of my growing fanfic collection below the cut:

Now to stare longingly at my Ice & Smoke Book 2 cover art for however many months/years it takes to draft that sucker and find the best places to break between volumes.

[elmundodeflor]

“Wait…!”, words escape him before he can manage. Katara’s leaning over the river banks, looking as her reflection wavers on the rushing waters. “I mean…”, he scratches the back of his head, when he sees her turn around to take a glance at him, instead. “Are you sure you’re gonna go there alone…?”

She smiles; a small, fainted pull at her lips. Turns out, though, she’s not as surprised as she’d thought she’d be. After all, it’s no news to her; Zuko had always been a little awkward like this.

“Well…” she shrugs. It’s nice enough of a day to be here, out in nature. Sun bristles over the forest leaves, paints the grass with patches of golden and a yellowish-green. “Unless, you wanna come join me…?”

He hums it out. He’s not wearing his usual Fire-Lord attire, but a laid-back linen tunic that crosses his chest. Katara and him had decided on reuniting for summer, since they two had a few days off from both their political duties.

“Sure.”, he tells her, and he sits down by the shore, as well. She’s pretty when basked down in this soft light, he figures. The blue in her eyes dapples with specs of early sunset. The tiny freckles that dot over her cheeks pop up all the more. He doesn’t quite understand why she'd insisted on visiting this particular Fire-Nation village yet, but he isn’t about to complain on it just now. She must have been bored of freezing her ass out in the Southern Water Tribe, he assumes.

"So...", she's back to looking at herself. There's a paint-pot near the seams of her dress, and she dabs on it to take a dip. "How about we go grab a bite after this? I'm craving some noodle-soup!"

Zuko nods. Truth is, he's grateful for Katara; her unwavering company. He knows for a fact; she hates the spicy dishes that the Fire Nation has to offer. Yet here she is; all giggles and up and ready to take another chance on them, regardless. 

"I guess we'll manage.", he says, causing her smiles to only but grow. She's already traced the first streak upon her cheek; the birds chirping as she goes along. "'Tara", he calls her out, then, right when she's about to place a second one, there on the dimple on her chin. "You're doing it wrong, y'know."

That makes her frown big time. She's aware, the Painted Lady is a Fire Nation spirit, but still—

"Asshole!"

Zuko laughs; they both do. After all, he's sure Katara doesn't really mean it. She could be hot-headed, on occasion; fiery as the flames that once sprung up from his very hands, indeed. But she wasn't ill-intended, at last. He could see it in her eyes, dazzling everlasting teal. Could sense it in how her fingers touched her skin; careful, patient. Like there's no rush, and seconds and hours can lay suspended in the tender breeze.

"So now I'm the bad guy for telling the truth?!"

Katara pulls a face at him. His palms are in the air, as if to prove that he's always been this innocent, and she can't quite take him seriously.

"Come do it yourself, then.", she challenges; one eyebrow raised. It has always been like this with Zuko, she thinks; the push and pull, the constant bickering. He's odd and gets flustered easy, — and she'd studied him long enough to remember all the different ways she could push his buttons. “If you believe to be so wise, hm..."

He stays quiet, then scoots down close to her. The shadows from the treetops slice her features in a miscellaneous of greens and warm tones. Sun’s cast upon her hair, delicate and thin as a golden veil.

"O-Okay..."

Katara hands him over the paint-pot, and sits down as if to face him fully. There’s a certain glimmer on her expression as she does so, Zuko notices. Like the skin on her nose has turned the slightest pinch of rose.

“Okay.”, he repeats, more so to steady himself, and so he takes a drop of paint and draws a straight line on her forehead. Katara stays still, let’s him do whatever. She realizes, right as he touches her, how rough his palms have gotten. As if his years of struggle had somehow imprinted on every stripe and trace upon them.

She swallows hard. Zuko has a hand lifting her chin up, the other sliding down her face. She’s seen him become a man, little by little. Has been present when he had to make hard decisions, there at political meetings, — then drunk tea with him at Iroh’s, cracking up until their stomachs would hurt. It’s why it almost makes her shiver, the way he caresses her; so grown. Like it’s evident now, time has flown by, and they’re not those small kids who’re afraid of the world anymore.

“Close your eyes.”, he asks, almost in a drowned-out whisper, — then he takes more paint over from the pot. Katara might be a water bender, he knows this; but she’s as searing as stardust on a summer evening. Fierce as the washed-over sand on Ember Island. Her features are delicate, yet strong. Her skin’s earnest, and it’s speckled by cozy, tiny spots, — like a comet that flecks upon the broadest of night skies.

“Are you sure you’re not drawing me a beard or something?”, she says, just to poke fun at him. Zuko’s moving over to her brows now, covering each patch of lid with crimson red. He’s soft when sketching her up like this; it even shocks her a bit. When she imagined how his fingers on her cheeks would feel, she never thought they would be so caring. As if they were holding something precious, — something stitched with utmost fragility.

He laughs once more; a lovely, timid chuckle this time only.

“Pff, you’ll see…”, his index glides up over to her temples. Suddenly, he realizes that he’s never been so aware of how thick her lashes are, indeed. How long, and dark and curled-up they look from up closely. “I’m drawing you with a pair of glasses.”

Katara sticks out her tongue to him.

“You’re an idiot.”, she goes again. Zuko stays quiet, but smiles at her, regardless. Her skin’s gotten hot now, red and shiny as the paint that’s on his hands. And to him, that’s good enough for the time being, at least.

He bites his lip. Actually, though, the first time she’d told him about her being the Painted Lady, it had been a late night at the Palace. Katara was staying over for a couple weeks, since the Southern Water Tribe was peaceful, and so he had gone to her chambers like it was natural instinct for him to do. It was a warm, wet spring, he recalls, — the air was humid and smelt of rainfall and jasmines. For once, Katara was thrilled to change her furr coat for a silk pant and tops, just as much as he was thrilled to have her over.

“It’s a bit ironic, if you ask me.”, she’d said; her voice filled with something that sounded much quite like happiness. They were strolling their usual way through the gardens, like they would do when neither one could sleep. “We both dressed up as spirits from each other’s nations, right?”

Zuko had nodded. He wanted to believe that it was mere coincidence, or that maybe it was fate. A force stronger than the tides threading them together. As if they were always just meant to be pushed towards the other like that— with the helplessness of the ocean waves.

“Awe, so you knew I was the Blue Spirit all along?!”, he’d whined, making Katara laugh a little bit. He was aware, Aang had been sure of it, back then. He just didn’t think he’d ever tell the rest of the group, as well.

“Of course I did!”

He draws another line now, and then one more. Katara’s face is soft, he notices, round as the crescent moon— and it’s a thought that catches him off guard, all of a sudden, right as he goes along. His hands would fit every crevice, every bump and protuberance. Like they were made just for him to touch.

“´Tara…”, he calls her, at last, in a hush that’s barely audible. A brown lock has fallen over her forehead, and so he tucks it behind her ear. Strokes her cheek with the greatest care, almost as if she was made of glass. “You can open your eyes now.”

“So… you’re done?”, she stutters, blinking back into the midday-light. She can still feel his fingers on her skin, feather-light as a butterfly’s wings. Would recognize the gentleness of him were she blind, or deaf, or both. “We should get going, I guess.”

Zuko takes one last dip from the pot, then places his thumb upon her chin. He’d seen Katara grow into a woman, little by little, or all too fast, perhaps. Has thrown snowballs at her while on the South Pole, — chased her down the steep slopes; both screeching like two maniacs.

“Y-yeah, right, we should.”, he whispers, but Katara doesn’t really move. His fingers are now in the outlines of her lower lip, and— for the life of her—, she can’t think straight. Zuko is too close to her, almost a few hair breadths away. It’s up from this very distance, that she can see all of him; every detail, each pore, and scrap, and freckle for the first time. That she can appreciate the memories that were burnt upon his skin, the beautiful drops of amber that stipple up his eyes.

She holds her breath, just as he realizes he’s doing the same. That his hands are no longer steady, but have gotten shaky and damp with sweat, instead. If she wanted to, she could lean in and kiss him, sure enough, she figures. Could let him ruin the paint he’s just neatly put along her mouth and check how that would feel. Still, she knows this; it just wouldn’t be right.

“Zuko…”, she smiles. His name’s sweet upon her tongue. It’s smokey, and fierce and tastes like summer.

He smiles back at her, as his hand cups her cheek and lingers there for a while. Katara notices, almost right away, that this is different than when she was with Aang. With him, she’d never had her stomach full of butterflies— no, badgermoles— that would stomp and dig, dig, dig. Zuko, however, brings this other side of her. Like she’s raw, and wild, and untamable; fearless as seafoam going with the flow.

“Yeah.”, he tells her, and he pinches her nose in the cutest, most loving of ways. “That noodle-soup spot I know is gonna close up pretty soon.”

[reticenceofladyeva]

hoax xviii (you knew it still hurts underneath my scars)

Her hair is short, cut off at her chin. Zuko looks up at her, prepared to drown and yet hoping she'll forgive him the worst sin he's committed, worst of his many sins. Frayed brown ends feather her face as the breeze blows in off the sea, nearly concealing the lines creasing her brow. Tears glitter in her eyes, and Zuko bows his head.

"Katara," he whispers, just loudly enough for her to hear. "I'm sorry. Please."

"Please what." She snaps, nearly as quiet. "Forgive you? How am I supposed to forgive you for this?"

"No," he says, even if he wants little more than to see her smile at him again. "Please let me see my son."

"No."

"Katara."

"You can't do this, Zuko. You can't walk in and out of his life when it's convenient for you!"

His head snaps up again. "Convenient?!" The startled jerks around them caution Zuko that he was far, far louder than he had meant to be. "You think I did any of this because it was convenient?!"

She backs up a half-step, eyes wide and owlish. They narrow again swiftly. "I don't know what to think."

"I love you," he says, voice hoarse. "I am so, so sorry, Katara."

"It doesn't matter," she snaps bitterly. "Kova needs you." Katara fingers the ends of her hair. "He's a firebender."

Zuko's head snaps up, eyes wide and searching. "How do you know?"

Her laugh is dry and sharp as she drops the water back into the sea. "He burned my hair, Zuko. He was playing with it and then--" She breaks off, turning away from him. "It'll grow back."

Pushing himself to his feet, Zuko brushes the sand from his knees. He nearly reaches for her hair; he wonders if it would feel the same way sliding through his fingers as it did before Azula, before he messed everything up. "I'll make it up to you," he promises.

Katara smooths her hair with one hand, and she doesn't look at him as she walks away. Just the same, she doesn't take Kova with her, either.