#did i queue a bunch of dad zukka and izumi art for today? also yes lol

[chitsangenthusiast]

good afternoon i bring with me a (slightly rough) wip of zuko getting to see his daughter for the first time after she's born <3

(featuring some zuko teasing bc the gaang can't help it even at his daughter's birth, and sokka also getting to hold her!!)

—

She’s born in the middle of a scorching summer, under the gaze of a shining moon and on a bed covered in caribou-hare pelts.

Zuko knows when she’s arrived; he’s already crossed the length of the reception room by the time the clamor behind the separating screen abruptly cuts into a breathless silence, and his heart beats in expectation when Suki pokes her head out. She’s exhausted, she’s excited, and she’s dragging him in before he can even fathom any kind of thought.

He comes in just as the midwife finishes in clearing her nose and mouth, to reveal a tiny face and the full sound of his daughter’s fair wail.

Daughter.

Zuko stumbles.

A bubble of absolute glee spills from his mouth as he’s pushed into a chair next to the bed because, from here, he has an even better view. Poking out above her little arm is a head covered in a wet smattering of dark hair and already full eyebrows, with impossibly round cheeks showing off pouting lips and red gums while she cries. She’s loud, she’s announcing her presence, she’s so small.

Zuko chokes on an exhilarated gasp. That’s his daughter.

He reaches out, then falters. As he watches her settle into the soothing warmth of bare skin, all he wants is to fall forward to her, to tuck her into him and rest his hand on her small back to feel how she lifts the entirety of her body as he cries and breathesin her first moments. But he’s not sure who he can touch or even what he can touch on the bed, and he instead throws an absentmindedly desperate hand out to stop himself from grabbing at the furs as he works to remember how to properly take in air.

Someone grabs it—Sokka, he can tell by the calluses on his fingers—and directs it down. Instantly, instinctively, Zuko splays his fingers to cradle her head and strokes his thumb over his daughter’s ear.

His hand curls perfectly around her, and he chokes on another exhilarated sob.

“Katara—”

“She’s beautiful,” Katara immediately returns. Her eyes flit up to Zuko’s, just for a moment, before sliding back down to the baby resting on her stomach. She’s holding a tiny fist in her own hand, running tired fingers up and down a forearm, and she can’t look away either. She’s crying, Zuko realizes, tears just like his own, and she shakes out little relieved sniffles when he and Sokka quickly clasp her heaving shoulders. Katara’s head falls back to the pillows—from the exhaustion, from the relief of their touch, from those strong, healthy cries—and her hand joins Zuko’s on his daughter’s head as she lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh wow, she’s really perfect, Zuko.”

“Thank you,” he gasps out, and then no other words come. His face is a reservoir of open gratitude even when he can’t get anything else out, he knows Katara understands him when she lightly runs a thumb against his hand in response to his spasming grip on her shoulder.

Thank you.

Aang is let in shortly after, buzzing out of his body as he rushes to Katara’s side, with Azula jumping at the chance to barrel inside too. He’s been through this before with Bumi, but his hands still shake slightly as he cups her face and leans down to kiss her forehead with a long, deep inhale. Katara reaches out a free hand to hold onto him, and just smiles at the comfort of his happiness.

Her other hand is still in Zuko’s grasp. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to let go just yet, even after moving to the other side of the bed so that his good ear could better pick up her murmuring, or after her careful transfer of his daughter into his his bare arms, and now together they hold onto an exposed arm left out of the blanket.

Snatches of conversation happen around him, slight jostling occurs as everyone works on the after care, but Zuko is captivated only by the bundle in his arms. Their eyes are locked—she looks up at Zuko, and he stares right back. When Katara has to let go, he takes over to admire his daughter with his thumb, tracing it across her plump jawline, smoothing down the soft hair on her head and over her eyebrows.

Toward the end of the pregnancy, when Aang and Katara came to stay at the palace to prepare, Zuko used to sometimes stare at her. It was hard, trying to imagine what a child between them would look like, and a niggling thought that circled in the back of his mind—quietly, in a determined attempt to not let it fester too much—had him wishing, hoping that his daughter would have more of Katara in her than him. Beyond possibly gold-tinted eyes, what worth did his ancestry have to offer in the face of so much goodness from Katara’s?

(He got scolded for ruminating over this, then given an extremely long hug, and then scolded again for his incessant doting over a Katara who did not need to be doted over, much to Aang’s cackling amusement and Zuko’s embarrassed chagrin.)

But his daughter looks so much like him, and in such a breathtakingly sweet way that leaves him stunned. He can see the small flicks of her eyes moving as they roam over his face; they’re so light in color, tawny almost like how Azula’s were when she was born, and he wonders if they’ll be bright like his or darken into a strong amber like Uncle’s. She also has his nose, a wide little thing that he can’t help but bop a finger against, and her cheeks may be big but Zuko thinks she has his chin.

“It’s crazy how alert she already is,” Aang says, smiling as he peeks down at her across the bed. “I hope her cries get louder though, she needs those firebender lungs so she can shout like you can, Zuko.”

“Don’t do that to me,” Azula instantly scoffs, taking her place next to her brother, then smirks at his lukewarm glare. “I can only handle one loudmouth at a time, and Zuzu is plenty already.”

“Hey—”

Sokka snorts, and responds faster than Zuko can continue. “Well, when she’s right, she’s right.”

Suki overtakes their snickering with a bright burst of laughter, and his daughter’s head rolls toward the noise. “I thought blessings for babies by airbenders were supposed to be good-natured?”

“Oh, sure,” Aang laughs as he takes a cool cloth from her to wipe at Katara’s neck. “She will have a loving heart, an inquisitive mind, and a steadfast head on her shoulders that will push her through anything she sets herself to achieve. But I also hope she gets a set of good strong lungs, just so Zuko can see what we’ve put up with over the years.”

“Can you all be nice to me for five seconds,” Zuko grumps lightly. “I’m literally holding my child right now.”

“I think Aang’s gonna be right too,” Sokka happily jumps back in, dropping a heavy hand on Zuko’s shoulder as he leans over him to coo into her space. “She’s already got his frown.”

“Sokka!” Katara chides, but her laughter is still the loudest above everyone else’s at the falsely disgruntled scowl they receive—which is indeed replicated perfectly on that little face. “You know you can’t say things like that, or she’s going to end up looking like you!”

Sokka just chuckles, and the happy sound thrums through Zuko’s nerves. He’s pulled back already, giving him room to curl around his daughter like she’ll be able to protect him from the teasing—and Zuko forcibly swallows down the heavy desire to pull him back in.

“If that happens, it’ll only be because we look like, Katara.”

“Alright, move over punks!” Toph is as gleefully brash as ever when she steps into room with Lin on her hip and Iroh following close behind her, but Zuko can see the excitement lighting up her face as she beelines over. “Stop hogging the kid!”

Suki makes quick work to take Lin from her while Aang moves to pull Bumi from Iroh’s arms, and the four of them maneuver themselves onto the bed around Katara. She grouses lightly, but still looks incredibly contented to now have her son within arm’s reach. Iroh moves to take up residence on Zuko’s free side next to Sokka, and rests his hand on Zuko’s other shoulder.

“Oh, nephew,” he breathes out in deep admiration, and Zuko can feel his elation all the way down to his bones. “What a remarkable little beauty you have there.”

“Do you want to hold her?” he asks, after Iroh has showered Katara with a slew of his own sincere appreciation. Katara shies a little at the praise, but her smile remains firm even as her eyes droop slightly, and Zuko has a feeling Aang may soon kick them all out into another room to let her sleep.

Iroh’s steady joy though is infectious, and the room alights with an even more blanketing warmth from it. He reaches out eagerly to gingerly take her into his arms, and his eyes shine as he coos down at his granddaughter.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Iroh hums, “There are great things in store for you here, just you wait and see.”

Azula gets to hold her next. Not for as long as their uncle, too nervous to hold something so tiny yet also noticeably too unwilling to give her up, and Zuko feels his eyes start to prick as sheer happiness crashes over him at the sight.

Sokka is the third one, composure fully cracked and delighted tears flowing as he wetly hiccups between stunned laughter.

“What an awesome little kid,” he says, his watery grin is as wide as his eyes. He then carefully cradles one of her hands into his palm, and welcomes her with a gentle handshake.

“Hello, Izumi,” he murmurs, and Zuko’s heart sings. “It’s so good to finally see you.”

Zuko doesn’t have anything to say in response, burstingly overwhelmed.

Instead, he quietly marvels at how well Izumi fits into his arms as he brushes a finger over one of her eyebrows. He glances up, to commit to memory the full picture of them together—their eyes catch, and his breath hitches at the deep adoration he spies in those blue eyes.

Sokka shakes himself a beat later, and looks back down at Izumi with a blazing grin.

“Man, you really do look just like your dad, don’t you, little princess?”

She does, but she undeniably has pieces of Katara in her too. Her complexion is slightly darker, and there’s already a slight wave to her hair that Zuko idly traces in amazement. He’s somewhat certain she has Katara’s lips too, and she hasn’t smiled yet but the thought that she could also end up with that same spirited smile makes his chest ache in private joy. It’s thrilling, the notion that even when his friend isn’t around, Zuko will still be able to see her signature grin light up the Fire Nation.

Zuko glances back up while Sokka continues to look down at his daughter.

He allows himself a moment to stare.

And carefully, very carefully, he thinks about how Katara and Sokka have the same smile.