#(if you don't pose even a slight threat to him or have the ability to fight him off he just doesn't bother)

[vixlenxe]

I hate that I have the ability to just log into Charibert's mindset & quote him accurately.

[apompkwrites]

I reinvented my love for One Piece specifically for Katakuri Charlotte. He became my favorite, so here's Katakuri!Leech.

☆☆

The eldest and most terrifying sibling of the Leech Twins who hides his mouth.

Katakuri!Leech is a calm, serious, and diligent man who devotes himself to protecting his family and Disamonia and achieving their objectives. When it comes to judging his opponent's power, Katakuri!Leech is neither boastful nor meek and so will bluntly point out when an opponent is clearly inferior to him, but will also notice if they pose a serious threat or are improving their abilities, and he will even commend enemies who demonstrate impressive strength or tactical maneuvers. He takes care to never underestimate his opponents' abilities, and rather than entertain the activation of a new ability he is quite pragmatic and will prevent his opponent from activating it.

He has short spiky teal hair and two symmetric scars on both sides of his face. He has long legs, with his thighs being equally as long as his lower limbs. His mouth, which is usually covered up, contains sharp pelican eel-like teeth and is capable of expanding to an enormous size in his merman form. His eyes have complete heterochromia, with his left eye being yellow, and his right eye being olive-brown, but both are sharp and intense.

★

His eel merman form is the widest and tallest out of the merman at both RSA and NRC.

He wears his scarf everywhere and everyday to cover up his mouth and scars.

A secret sweetheart who loves donuts and watching over his siblings along with the other Black Sheep.

He was sorted into Disamonia during his first year NRC sorting ceremony and has remained in the dorm ever since.

He helps fix Sans!Zigvolt's dorm uniform and make sure his hair isn't as messy as his bed hair. They're roommates.

★☆

Katakuri!Leech and Sans!Zigvolt Friendship

A couple of friends turned to roommates. They didn't room together during their first year, they became roommates during their second year and continued to be roommates for their third year.

Katakuri!Leech helps him with his hair to make sure it isn't as messy as his bed hair while Sans!Zigvolt helps him by getting his Donuts from the Pastry Chef.

Sans!Zigvolt often sleeps on him especially when they're supposed to do homework. Katakuri!Leech doesn't mind it however since Sans!Zigvolt usually does his homework whenever he's encouraged to.

Katakuri!Leech: Don't forget to head to Sam's Shop. We ran out of tea earlier today. *flicking a coin in the air and catches it*

Sans!Zigvolt: And, donuts? *smiles at the slight perk up from him*

Katakuri!Leech: Yes, don't forget them either!

waaah hi hi it's been awhile since i last saw you in my inbox :OO

i can imagine when they were younger, floyd and jade (mostly floyd) like, climbing all over katakuri!leech bc they were so!! big!! (also jade 100% teases floyd about matching eye colors with katakuri!leech)

imagine them meeting lil ashengrotto!!! omg just lil octomer and big eelmer! lil ashengrotto has scary dog (eel) privileges.

and then katakuri!leech with sans!zigvolt >:)) i dont think sebek would be able to talk to sans!zigvolt after fidning out about their roommate.

[supersaiyanjedi14]

If you are taking suggestions for verses matches then maybe Jaume vs Cardin. I want to see how Jaune would handle his old bully.

Okay, first things first. Thank you for suggesting this, Anon! If anyone has requests for stuff to talk about, feel free to ask!

On to the topic, that's definitely a good thematic matchup, though sadly Cardin's limited appearances make drafting concrete statistics for him difficult. His only combat feats are sparring matches where he either lost or was fighting a rank amateur, we have no information on his Semblance, and his absence since Volume 3 means we haven't had any means to gauge his development if any.

Still, limited exposure does not mean unapplicable. To answer your ask, here's a lightning round assessment;

Physical: No real edge to be given either way. Both are human males at the same age, and both possess powerful muscular builds supported by heavy combat armor. I'd argue that the leaner Jaune has better agility while the hulking Cardin has a slight strength advantage, but their dexterity and resiliency are comparable.

Martial: Jaune has a significant advantage here in virtually every category. Crocea Mors provides a greater degree of versatility than the Executioner, Jaune's sword-and-board technique is more developed than Cardin's basic mace clubbing, and he is unquestionably the better tactician. While I do not believe that their developed skill levels are drastically different, Jaune has the benefit of more relevant combat experience against a wider range of opponents, whereas Cardin was thrashed by Pyrrha despite having backup and (depending on how canon you view the manga) one-shotted by Beacon era Ruby. While neither of those make Cardin an inept fighter, as he was still able to pose a threat Pyrrha, they pale in comparison to Jaune holding his ground against Neo, Ironwood, and Cinder, however brief they were. Cardin can pressure Jaune, but he can't reliably overpower him.

Special: Again, Jaune's Semblance and Dust gadgets provide him with critical advantages against Cardin. More options, greater range of applications, and all feed into his ability to adapt to the fight. The Dust crystal Cardin incorporated into the Executioner does augment his fighting style and provides him with some supernatural powers, but it's use is extremely limited, and don't even @ me on it being comparable to Cinder's fire blasts. Even if Cardon's Semblance does get revealed at some point, it's ability to stack up to Aura Amp will be suspect at best. Cardin can smash and batter Jaune, but Jaune can off-balance, subvert, and ultimately control Cardin, all while mitigating his own wounds and maintaining his defenses.

Conclusion: Should be pretty obvious. Jaune effectively does everything Cardin can, only better and with more skill. He can match him physically, contend with his fighting style, boasts far more versatility as a spellcaster, and he has the tactical know how to take advantage of all of Cardin's weaknesses. Overall, the biggest factor in Jaune's favor is experience, having faced everything Cardin is and then some in the real world and having learned from these experiences. In Cardin's defense, he is still a powerful fighter in his own right, and he would certainly, put Jaune under a lot of pressure. But at the end of the day, he would be outfought by his more experienced, smarter, and ultimately stronger former target.

I declare Jaune Arc the victor.

[eldritch-spouse]

Now I am only a slight masochist but I would personally and willingly let Vinnel tear me to pieces if it meant I could get a piece of those gorgeous thighs of his 😳 (I- I wanna touch them Pinnie)

[On the shorter side, but I think this is really cute. Time to make it awful. :7]

TW: Non-con, threats of violence, suffocation, smothering(?), you almost vomit, degradation, this is more horror porn than anything.

A pair of colorful digits snaps near your face.

" Uhuhuhu-! "

You blink out of your trance with a hard jump.

It's one of the smoother days inside The Clergy. Well, no, not really, the correct way to word it is that it's a smooth day in The Clergy, for you specifically.

See, as Vinnel's glorified porcelain doll of a human, you really, really love it when you're not the centerpiece of his horrid shows. Or don't participate in them at all. And ever since they got the mimic to work here, things have been slightly less stressful for you, because Vinnel is a lot more focused on commenting and perfecting his beloved "escape floor" games.

In short, this means that he'll spend a lot less time sticking pins in you and Jingles, in favor of painting or crafting little knick-knacks to then place within the escape floor where Sybastian, that gangly bundle of teeth and limbs, will hunt people down one by one. Or fuck them, honestly, it's the toss of a coin in this shithole. Even if you think Vinnel is a deplorable person, rotten to the core both physically and mentally, you have to agree on one thing. Well, two things-

First, he's a very creative soul. One kind of has to be, to keep torture entertaining and engage the audience for as long as he has. You're very surprised by his ability to customize masks and dolls. How he can make something as simple as a painting function in the same way a lock would, combining elegance, horror and usefulness in admirable ways. The jester likes showing his work off to you, and as much as you want to hate him, it does help keep you minimally sane in the performer's clutches. Sometimes, he even lets you work with him on some pieces!

Second, he's got the most delicious hips you've ever seen on anyone. And you just got caught staring at them red-handed...

See, you're in a small room above the escape floor with him. This place has several screens all showing several angels of the floor beneath you. It is through this space that Vinnel can see everything happening while the game unfolds, and he commentates over it with a microphone. This is broadcasted for the viewing pleasure of both a live and digital audience. Usually, you just try to nap or spin yourself around on the cushioned chair while the jester does his loud quips and taunts. Sometimes you play games with Jingles. Today was no different, you were simply picking at the threads of your frilled pastel dress while he rambled and encouraged people to make bets on who would die first.

The thing with Vinnel is that he gets really into these games. It's sort of like watching a middle-aged man screaming obscenities at football players on the TV. The more animated he gets, the more the jester will gesticulate and twist, naturally. It just so happened that, up until recently, he was glued to the main screen where the last man was standing, lost and scared. This pose had him bent over the desk, mask down, ass up, one knee leaning on the wooden surface while a fast tail swayed enthusiastically.

It... Well, it sure was a view. He's always had very full hips, for most men. Then again, you don't know what slime men are "supposed" to look like, and he's definitely ill, so... But that didn't matter, you were stuck ogling the jester's legs for too long. And he caught you.

Vinnel cackles louder and you can feel yourself flushing velvet even under all the layers of makeup he caked on your face.

" Well, someone seems to be enjoying a show of their own, eh? "

The performer jabs, a smarmy grin on their porcelain face as he twists to face you, now firmly seated on the desk. You quietly note that he turned the microphone off.

" I- N-No, I just zoned out. " You sputter. Yeah, zoned out looking specifically at his hips and ass. Mhm.

" Bwaha-! " He swings his legs, seemingly very amused. When he sits, the form of his body naturally adapts, only serving to make his hips look wider than they already are. You gulp. " Poppet, I'd say you have a career in comedy! "

A forward lean.

" Because you're certainly a joke. "

Ouch. Okay.

But you've been around Vinnel long enough to know what this is. He just wants to make you cry, he'll say what he thinks will get the waterworks on, not exactly what he feels. You still flinch. Because regardless of whether or not he means it... He's right. You are a joke. A huge joke. Getting kidnapped, thrown into the claws of a fucking clown inside a place where there's no hope for humans. You're a fucking joke because you accept this, because you sit still and let him dress you up like a toy, because you'll let him cut you, let him bruise you- And still smile when you're called pretty, when he makes you paint with him, when you're shown a shred of compassion that you know Vinnel will rip away sooner or later.

Because only jokes allow that. Only jokes like you.

Face heating further, mascara drips down your powdered cheeks as you try, so very hard, not to start sobbing. Vinnel is humming lowly, decidedly pleased with himself while he savors the reaction he wanted to get in the first place. You hear him mutter a curse under his breath and it makes you boil in anger, because he's getting off on how fragile you are. Again.

You can't stand it.

" Y- Ugh, you're such a dick! "

It sounds more like a sad whimper than the indignant shout it was meant to be. As if you're some kicked dog keening on the sidewalk rather than the intimidating being you know you need to be to free yourself from this sadist's clutches. But it's pointless anyway, isn't it? You've been declawed and defanged since the moment you were tossed in here, Vinnel is just treating you like the prey you've been labeled as.

Another manic, no, hysterical bout of laughter. " ... Dick, huh? " He wheezes, the smug, gurgling nasal undertone making you want to crawl walls.

You don't notice the tail that's been slowly edging your chair closer to the desk until the jester spreads his legs and captures your upper body with them, ankles crossing behind your back to keep you bent and caged against him.

" Uhuhu- The same dick you've been drooling for all this time, daisy bell? " The entertainer nudges a finger against your wet cheek, you know he'd be licking your tears if they weren't tainted by makeup. You must look like a complete mess right now.

Fuck, he knows exactly what he's doing. You're immobilized between those plush, oddly strong thighs of his, face far too close to that heart-shaped crotch to be comfortable. One would figure that, since he floats so much, his legs would be weak, if not atrophied in some way. And yet, here you are, struggling in vain against the surprisingly solid mass. It's strange, you don't feel the cording of muscle on those legs like you would with a human. Regardless of the oddities in Vinnel's form, you're still blushing madly.

" Shut the fuh- "

Whatever you're about to retort is rapidly snuffed by the jester jostling his grip on you, legs rising to wrap over the back of your head and swiftly force you against his groin.

For a moment, you're simply too stunned to move, merely processing. You can feel the physical tremors of Vinnel's giggling as strong legs pull you further onto his covered privates. You... You can't breathe! Oh God. Brain finally coming to terms with the situation, it commands your limbs to start moving, feet kicking to shift the chair while your arms slap and claw uselessly. Nothing you can do will put a dent in that suit, and trying to pry his legs apart is only making the clown guffaw heartlessly.

Oh fuck, is this how you die? What if he's had enough? What if you're not fun anymore? You thought he'd want a messier way to end you, but then again, suffocating someone to death against his crotch sounds humiliating enough to be right up his alley... The monster's hips jut, he hums something you can't make out while harshly grinding his suited genitals against your poor face. You're crying harder, now from oxygen-deprived panic.

There's something writhing against your features. You've been in Vinnel's bloody clutches long enough to know exactly what it is. That weird writhing mass of tendrils that comprises his cock, it's poking and prodding at your face, trying to latch onto anything beyond the fibers of his finely tailored prison. You can feel that mass attempt to delve into your mouth the moment it opens in a desperate effort to draw breath that isn't there.

Batting and slapping harder at the jester's body does nothing. Not even your pitiful, surrendering palm slams on the desk's surface elicit some sort of mercy. Not that Vinnel is known for his ability to spare others. He only grinds and ruts harder against your breathless, sobbing self. The only end to it seems to come when you no longer have the ability to do anything other than tap lightly, body spasming in small ripples of protest.

" There there, you and your dramatic flair... " The jester murmurs mockingly, a hand patting your tangled hair.

Right as it feels like you're going to pass out, you're suddenly freed, pained by the jarring brightness as the world ceases to be a dark pit. The wild lungfuls you take are disgusting and harsh, making it feel as if your stomach is going to jump out your throat. The room spins and swirls for a couple of agonizing moments while you pant, drool and cry.

You have no composure to comment or fight back with. Nor do you dare to.

" Y'know, I think you forget where you are sometimes, poppy! " His tone is chipper and almost innocuous, in spite of the violently writhing tendrils beneath his now painted suit.

You really do forget. Holy shit.

" How silly of you! Tsk tsk- " The performer pulls at a very subtle seam lining the heart shape of his intricate suit, opening it slowly. Sloppy, viscous, pitch black tendrils immediately emerge, clashing against each other and Vinnel's thighs, spreading ink-like splotches wherever there's contact. He's very careful about when and where he opens his suit, you're surprised he's going this far.

" Why, guess I'll just have to drill it into your head. "

You jump. Not too far, Vinnel still has a more or less firm grip on your recovering form. But you know better than to take most of his threats as just bark- He does bite. Hard. And it's so much worse than his bark, you have no doubt Vinnel will literally drill something into your skull if he feels he needs to. Fearful, silent eyes gaze imploringly up at the monster.

" Not literally, oh ho, I don't want another Jingles... " He's visibly very thrilled by the terror nonetheless.

Lord, that poor bobble.

A hand fists locks of your hair, keeping a taut grip of your head and forcing it back to look directly at the beaming jester. " Play nice now, poppet! " He gurgles, a deformed purr resounding as your face is brought closer to that squirming mass.

You're ashamed of the way you freeze in awe when those numerous tendrils suddenly converge into a different shape before your very own eyes. The mass that comprises his genitals forms itself into something traditionally more phallic, though you can definitely still see the curls of where several tendrils twine with each other, forming a strangely prehensile shaft. The moment is ruined as soon as it slaps against your cheek, a strained scowl on your face. Gross.

Said reaction only serves to make him laugh however. " Open wide- "

You resist the urge to growl something at the monster, knowing he'll simply punish you harder. Indeed, with Vinnel, you're better off just letting it happen and sparing yourself more pain than necessary. Doing as told, you're instantly jolted by the sensation of him on your tongue. The jester just... Tastes awful. You don't have the words for it, he feels acidic and bitter all at once, other times he's far too sweet in a spoiled way that makes your taste-buds shrivel up.

He's dipping past your mouth and into the depths of your throat far too fast, causing your poor body to heave reflexively, from both the length of his cock and the palate of his "skin". Instead of letting you pull back to cough or try again, Vinnel only drags you against him further, thighs coming back up to force you into welcoming the root of his wet shaft. Your cheeks, chin and nose are caked in blackness, it clings to you like a sickness. his sickness, wanting to take you over piece by piece. At least, you think to yourself, he doesn't stink.

Regardless, there's very little you can do aside from crying harder, trying to save your breath while Vinnel fucks your face, legs caging you firmly. You whine and gag harshly, muffled sobs making the jester throb in your throat, his lurid moans of sadistic glee ringing out. It hurts, it hurts and your vision is blurring and he's still rutting into your fucking face. Oh God... You can't even think.

Then, then he does the thing that's always scared you the most. The jester pushes your head into the sea of blackness that makes up his ill slime. It gets everywhere. Into your eyelids, crawling up your nostrils, hugging your face, pulling it in further, further, deeper-

It's the most invasive, claustrophobic thing you have ever felt in your entire life. The moment your ears are encased and you can sense thin tendrils prodding at your ear canal, something primal snaps within you.

Every last shred of oxygen you still have lingering in your lungs is expelled as you start screaming around his cock in earnest, a muffled, garbled shriek of unadulterated animal terror while you try to yank your face away from the abyss, from the mass trying to crawl inside your body, absorb you.

God, you're gonna get sick, you're gonna die. You can't take this anymore. Body violently jerking as it juggles the urge to hurl and gasp all at once, arms flailing. You're only briefly aware of the jester's hasty pistoning, of how the hand at your scalp is tightening its grip in his frenzy of lust.

You don't spend more than a minute in that state of deep panic, but it felt as if you were submerged for hours. Because when the monster finally, finally pulls back, you don't even know what to do with yourself, shaking and sobbing ugly, coughing, trying to wipe his disgusting likeness off your skin as you hiccup and whimper, swaying. Your throat is so raw.

Flooded ears only pick up on a muted growling moan before something else hits your face. Ropes of his vile, runny cum, adding to the already horrific mess on your visage. You're still crying like a baby, too scared to do anything.

" Awwwwie, poor little thing... " He coos, still stroking himself through his orgasm. " See poppet, sometimes dear old Vinnel has to put little dolls like you in their place, and we don't like that, do we? "

Trying to clear your throat to speak is pointless, his blackness is rigidly clogging it. You merely shake your head, still attempting to clean yourself in shame. Trembling hands grip the skirt of your pastel dress, intending to use it as a makeshift towel, before you're interrupted. " No no! Bad girl, come here! "

And you do, fuck do you- Like Hell you want a repeat of what just happened. Vinnel reaches into his wide sleeves and picks out two cloths, one to wipe himself before closing his suit again, and another for you. In great contrast to his previous cruel treatment, the jester gently dries your red, disheveled face, grinning down at you with endless giddiness. The tears haven't stopped.

They don't stop either when the monster scoops you up into his lap, rocking you softly, humming a lullaby as covered claws twirl locks of hair.

The worst part is that you lean into him, desperate for the comfort that no one but your captor will offer.

The tears never stop.

And they never will.

[livinghostly]

the way you said i love you

zuko x reader

not my gif!

words: 2660

request/summary: all the times zuko said he loved you, without actually saying it.

prompt: this post inspired me

warning: some angst, mostly fluff

a/n: this is my first time writing zuko and i'm kind of in love with him :') feedback is much appreciated

as a hello

"hello, zuko here." there was a slight smile on his face as he waved gently.

your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself taken aback, expecting anything but that. he greeted you with such familiarly, as if you were old friends reuniting. the way he reminded you of his name– as if you could ever forget the identity of the person who'd been hunting down you and your friends for nearly a year.

zuko didn't try to fight, he didn't prepare himself in a stance to even protect himself as your friends readied for an attack. he simply stood, as if he posed no threat.

he looked to you– the only one who hadn't brought your hands up and prepare whatever defense you had at your disposal. you were stunned, as you tried to analyze the firebender in front of you, until sokka nudged you with his elbow. only then, did you unsheathe the sword kept in the holster at your side.

"hey, i heard you guys flying around down there, so, i just thought i'd wait for you here."

and then, the strangest thing happened– appa licked him.

over a cup of tea

sweat beaded upon your forehead and fall to flow down the sides of your face as you writhed in the sheets of your bed. you weren't hot, you were freezing, but no amount of blankets could help you maintain any warmth. you bunched them around your shoulders and threw yourself on your side, looking for some comfort.

the blinds to your room were closed, creating a stuffy environment. they had been shut since that morning when you'd woken up feeling as if you'd been a victim of bloodbending, again. your muscles were tight and aching, it felt like a great weight on your limbs as you tried to move.

katara's healing didn't have the power to take away the fever or the strain, it wasn't a physical wound to be stitched back up. there wasn't much your friends could offer, besides leaving you alone to wallow in your own helplessness.

suddenly, the door opened. instinctively, your head turned towards the figure. he entered shyly, as if hiding behind the tray in his hands. you narrowed your eyes in curiosity, and propped yourself up against the wall. you moved to get off the bed, but his voice stopped you.

"don't get up." it was an order, but zuko's voice was soft.

he pulled up your desk chair next to your bed, his knees pressed against the soft fabric of your comforter. he laid the tray in his lap, a bowl and a cup, both full of tea, sitting on top.

"hey, zuko," you smiled.

"i, uh, i made your favorite," he offered, handing you the cup.

you took it gratefully, glancing inside the cup. the concoction was murky, with scattered bits of leaf left inside he apparently had paid no attention to. you grimaced, but it fell when you looked back up at him to see a hopeful grin on his face.

offering a tight smile, you brought the cup to your lips. you couldn't bring yourself to face his excited expression as you struggled to keep your composure. oh, spirits, it tasted much worse than it looked. as if it was mud, but acrid. it was hard to ignore the pungent smell as you brought it closer to your nose, tipping the cup as far up as you could to let the liquid run down your throat as quickly as possible.

"how does it taste?" zuko raised his eyebrows, clearly nervous as he found your expression unreadable. "is it okay?"

"yeah!" you said, a little too joyously. for a moment, you forgot how people reacted to good tea. you reminded yourself of iroh, but took it down a few notches. "it's– it's great, zuko."

"do you want any more?"

"i'm okay, actually," you squeaked, placing the cup down on his tray before he could try to insist.

zuko nodded, setting the tray on your desk before turning back to you. he was unsure of himself, what to say or how to react. he just wanted to be there, with you. his eyes lit up with a realization and, hesitantly, he brought the back of his hand to your forehead.

"what're you–"

"my mom used to do it when i got sick... i don't think your fever is going down, you're still warm."

he began to pull his hand away, but you stopped him by pulling at his wrist.

"actually, i'm freezing," you corrected. the longer he kept his hand against your skin, the better it felt. the contrast of his warm hand against the coolness you felt blanketing your body came as a relief. you placed his hand against your cheek, and for a moment, your eyes fluttered shut.

zuko's eyes widened, and he rubbed his thumb against your cheekbone experimentally. his touch was gentle, offering comfort in his warmth.

the moment between the two of you lasted a few seconds, and zuko leaned closer. but the sudden, obnoxious knocking on your bedroom door tore the two of you apart. he quickly ripped his hand away back to his side, and the two of you turned towards the entrance.

sokka pushed open the door with a careless expression, that quickly turned into a wide smirk as he observed the scene before him. he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"zuko, aang's asking for you down on the training grounds. something about some jerkbending practice," he shrugged, ignoring zuko's glare that could burn through him, if he so desired.

zuko stood from his place and pushed your chair back into it's place, then picked up the tray. he cast a glance back towards you. "feel better y/n."

"thanks, zuko," you said softly, already missing the feeling of his hand against your cheek.

he left the room quietly, knocking his shoulder subtly against sokka's. the water tribe boy held back his yelp, and his eyes followed zuko as he disappeared around the corner.

"so..." his grin was smug. "how was the tea?"

"shut up, sokka," you grumbled, sliding back underneath the blankets.

"no, really! i narrowly avoided being the taste-tester, and that's a fate worse than death."

as an apology

watching zuko firebend had become part of your daily routine, his body moved so effortlessly as he trained, it was hard to tear your eyes away from. it started as passing through the day, taking a quick break to pause and look through the trees. but now, you happily took a break from your duties and watched– sometimes joining in for some sparring.

at first you thought he didn't notice, too focused on his bending and quite eager to ignore whatever nonsense was going on around the camp. but, then, he spoke up.

"are you going to stare the entire time?"

you fumbled the laundry basket in your hands, feeling your cheeks warm up.

he stopped his bending, turning to face you. a blush dusted his face as he scratched the back of his neck. "you can sit down– you know, if you want."

a few weeks passed and you couldn't bring yourself to drop the tradition, no matter how much katara begged for a girls day out or aang wanted someone to show his new tricks to. it was nice for you and zuko to be alone.

sometimes, when he would train, he would rant. talk to you about the things weighing down on his shoulders or insulting the very specific way sokka would get on his nerves.

you sat on the bench of the training grounds, your knees drawn up to your chest and your back against the armrest. you were knitting a sweater, once finished it would be for momo. you listened absentmindedly as he punched through the air, every few moments averting your gaze back to him.

a plume of smoke whizzed past your head and your eyes widened, looking up. "watch where you're aiming, zuko."

"sorry," he mumbled half-heartedly, catching the teasing tone in your voice. but he complied, turning his back to you as he continued to practice. "i'm trying to get used to this whole not-angry-bending thing."

"i think you're doing pretty well there, handsome."

the nickname slipped out before you could stop yourself, surprising both of you. your eyes widened and you stopped knitting immediately, snapping your gaze up to him.

the firebender spun around mid-flame, his shock disrupting his bending abilities. the fire whizzed out towards you like a crescent wave, swarming the air.

you had a split second of reaction time. fear washed over you, and you brought your arms up to protect your face, there wasn't anything else you could do. the fire singed your skin, your forearms and all the way to your hands.

"i'm sorry, y/n! i didn't mean to!" he apologized frantically, dropping his arms to his sides, the fire died with that. he made his way over, towering over you with worry. "i– i just lost control! i don't– i don't know why, i–"

your face was contorted in pain as you brought your arms to your chest, the friction against your clothes only making the sensation worse. "it's– okay, zuko," your voice was strained, and stood up. "i just have to get to katara."

though you brushed past him, he followed at your heel. "i'm sorry, y/n," he said again, ignoring how you dismissed him.

you found katara on the patio with aang, both concentrated on their poorly done game of pai sho (they made the rules up as they went). their attention was drawn to you when you skidded to a stop, zuko running into your back.

before you could even sputter it out, or katara could ask what was wrong, he spoke up.

"i– i was bending, and i lost control. i burned her– but i didn't mean to!" he fumbled with his hands, leaning forward as if pleading for them to believe him. "it was an accident!"

"it'll be okay, zuko. calm down," aang stood up, gently facing his palms outward as if zuko was a wild animal he was approaching. he needed to calm down. "katara can heal her."

you walked forward towards katara's open arms, she coaxed you towards the beach. you closed your eyes tightly and ducked your head to the floor, the pain is was excruciating. you didn't want them to see you cry, you didn't want zuko to feel more guilt than he already was.

"i'm so sorry."

stepping off the patio, you glanced over your shoulder. "it's not your fault, zuko."

aang tried to usher him inside the building, but his feet were stiff, as if he was stuck in concrete. he was hesitant to follow, his sad gaze following you as you reached the edge of the beach where katara could heal you. then, he left with aang.

"i've never seen him like that," katara whispered to you.

with no space left between us

the moon was full, and hung high amidst the deep blue hugging every inch of the sky. your eyebrows furrowed subconsciously as you glared up at the stars, lost in thought. the grass was itchy against your skin and the wind brought a cold sweep through your hair.

there was a campfire on the beach you'd pulled yourself away from not too long ago. in the distance, you could still hear sokka's painful singing as he danced around the flames with momo as his partner (after suki refused).

zuko was somewhere over there, fueling the fire and probably shooting the occasional flame at sokka's feet for his and toph's entertainment. you knew you were right when you heard sokka's squeal and then accuse him of sabotoge.

for a brief moment, your attention was drawn away from the sky and you looked over. your expression softened. zuko had a proud smile on his face, doing his best to keep it down. it alerted a fleet of unruly butterflies in your stomach, begging for you to return to your friends.

you wanted to sit beside zuko again but you couldn't, too busy mulling over how to handle whatever it was you felt for him.

he met your gaze, and you offered a soft smile in return. it didn't reach your eyes and faded when you looked back at the sky.

almost immediately, zuko got up from the log he was sitting on and made his way towards you. you wouldn't have realized, if toph hadn't called out: "where ya going, sparky?"

he settled in the grass next to you, mirroring the way you kept your hands clasped over your stomach. there was no room left between you, his arm pushed up against yours comfortably.

"uh..." zuko started out. "you can talk to me, you know that right? about your feelings?"

"yeah," you said, your voice quiet. but you didn't want to talk to him. in fact, you'd rather talk to azula about you were feeling, than him.

silence followed.

"so, why'd you walk away from the fire?"

"i just needed to think."

"about what?"

you turned to face him with a raised eyebrow, only to find him staring back at you. you blushed, but felt a smirk creep over your features.

he sighed, looking up again. "sorry."

zuko was content, laying there with you, looking as if he had not a single thing in the world to worry about. as if next to him, you didn't have a voice in the back of your head screeching for you to do something already.

but you just looked– your eyes followed his facial features and noticed how each time he blinked it was longer than the last, you wondered if he would really fall asleep next to you.

"the stars remind me of you."

you were caught off guard. "what?"

"the stars are... bright, they light up the sky. even when things are dark, and you can’t see clearly, they’re there to show you the way. they're beautiful, and create incredible constellations. i can't look away from them."

whatever you were going to say, died in your throat. you didn't know how to respond. he spoke so casually as if his words didn't light every one of your nerves on fire. the flurry in your stomach only became more extreme. it felt too good to be true, it couldn't be real. the boy you were laying with under the stars told you possibly the most romantic thing you ever heard.

you'd been staring for so long, you forgot you had yet to actually say anything.

zuko faced you, a worrisome expression clouding his features. "was that weird?"

"no!" you squeaked. unwilling to meet his eyes, you looked away. "no, it was really nice. i just didn't expect it, at all. no one's really ever said anything–"

he leaned on his side and placed a hand on your cheek, and feeling that you missed. he didn't give you much time to process as he directed your chin to face him again, and then he kissed you. it was desperate, but soft, not wanting you to pull away but not being demanding. you kissed back with surprise, raising your eyebrows. it lasted a few seconds before he pulled away.

"was that weird?" he pulled his eyebrows together.

"not at all," you smiled gently, sweeping a hand through his hair.

in the distance, toph made herself known. "hey, are you two done over there? you're giving my feet a headache!"

"isn't that a feet-ache?" sokka chimed in, followed by an instantaneous groan as a rock slammed against his head.