Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"We’ll be pleased to see you tonight," her mother said, her voice smooth as velvet over the phone.

Azula clenched her jaw, doing her best to sound civil.

"Bet you are," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that, dear?" Ursa’s voice sharpened, the familiar edge creeping in, as if she knew exactly what Azula had said but wanted her to say it again.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Azula forced herself to stay calm.

"I said I’ll come," she groaned.

"Good. Zuko will be bringing his lovely boyfriend. Will you be bringing anyone?" Ursa’s voice was still pleasant, but there was a subtle undertone that Azula didn’t like.

Azula’s gaze flicked briefly to Mai, sitting in the passenger seat. Mai, with her cold, unapproachable beauty.
Mai, with her straight black hair that fell across her eyes in an effortlessly deliberate way, framing features so flawless they looked carved from ice. Mai, with her skin pale and milk-white, unblemished like porcelain untouched by time or sorrow. Mai who had made it abundantly clear she wouldn’t be joining them for a family dinner. Not that Azula blamed her—her family was a mess.

An absolutely fucking astonishing mess...

"No," Azula replied curtly. "It’ll just be me."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Ursa spoke again, her tone laced with something Azula couldn’t quite place. "As expected."

Azula’s shoulders stiffened and her fingers clenched around the phone. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, Azula, please don’t start."

"I’m not—"

"Don’t be late. See you soon." The line clicked, and just like that, her mother hung up.

Azula stared at her phone for a moment, resisting the urge to throw it out the car window.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath. A dinner with her family was the last thing she wanted tonight.

Mai, her perfect girlfriend, glanced at her with a smirk.

"You alright?"

Azula sighed, her brow furrowed.

"Sure."

"'Cause you look grumpy."

"Mmh," Azula hummed in response, not bothering to meet Mai’s eyes. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

They were parked in the lot at Azula’s flat. The plan had been to leave the car, head upstairs, have sex, eat something, talk about the day— before her mother called and ruined her fucking mood. Like always. Fucking always, for fuck's sake.

Damn it.

Azula’s blood was boiling. She wanted to get aggressive, scream at someone, crash her car into a fucking dumpster, destroy her mother’s perfect fucking life—starting with that expensive dress she'd probably burn. Then she’d move on to that ridiculous, overpriced Korean makeup—she’d spit in it. Or piss on it. Or both.

She flinched slightly when she felt Mai’s long fingers brush the back of her neck, the touch soft and familiar. The simple gesture pulled her back from the edge, grounding her in a way only Mai could.

"What’s on your mind?" Mai asked, her voice low but steady.

"Nothing."

Mai gave her a knowing look. "It don't look like nothing."

Azula rolled her eyes but finally turned to face her. Mai looked effortlessly beautiful, even in a plain workout outfit. Her dark eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, and Azula felt the tightness in her chest ease just a little.

"It’s her, always her," Azula admitted with a sigh. "Always getting under my fucking skin."

Mai didn’t need to ask who her was. She simply nodded, tracing lazy patterns along the back of Azula’s neck.

"I see."

Azula paused, thinking for a moment before adding, "She asked if you were coming tonight."

Mai snorted softly, her eyes meeting Azula’s with a mischievous gleam."Coming where?"

"You know where," Azula whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, eyes pleading.

Mai shook her head slowly. "Sorry, you know I won’t be coming."

Yeah, she knew. Still, she asked. A brief silence settled between them before a quiet chuckle escaped both.

"You’re not sorry at all," Azula accused, her voice lighter now.

"Not even a little," Mai smirked. "And you’re going to make me pay for it, aren’t you?"

Azula raised an eyebrow, shooting her a pointed look. "You want to be punished for not helping me ruin my mom’s mood?"

Mai chuckled softly. She was always so soft with her—that softness was something Azula adored.

"Punished how?"

Azula smirked. "You know exactly how."

Mai’s smirk deepened, and for a brief moment, everything else fell away. Azula leaned back in her seat, letting the hum of their laughter fill the car. Comfortable. That’s what it felt like with Mai. It always had been, and it always would be.

Even if Azula had to face her mother, her cousin, and whatever chaos awaited her at that cursed dinner—all alone.

.

.

.

Azula was late.

On purpose.

She wasn’t in the fucking mood to play nice. Not tonight. Not ever. Fuck that.

Her mother was the first to lay eyes on her, scanning Azula up and down, silently tearing apart every inch of her outfit as if it were a personal insult.

“Ah finally, there you are,” her mother said, smiling as Azula finally strolled into the restaurant.

It was her mother’s favorite restaurant, located on 1st Avenue. Classy, quiet, strictly no kids allowed and expensive as hell. Ursa rose from her chair, wearing a red Chanel dress, and greeted her with an embrace that felt more perfunctory than warm. As her arms closed around her daughter, she whispered coolly, “You’re late.”

“Mom, you’re my favorite,” Azula sang sweetly, returning the hug with exaggerated enthusiasm.

As she pulled away from the hug, her mother’s icy eyes tore into her like she hadn’t already sized her up from the moment she walked in. Didn’t matter to Azula. Tonight, she’d taken her usual butch style and pushed it way further, rocking a deep red Brioni suit.

The fabric—a fine, luxurious wool—hugged her figure perfectly, tailored to strike a balance between power and elegance. The jacket, sharp and masculine-cut, had wide, crisp lapels, while the perfectly fitted trousers fell straight onto black leather boots with gold tips—flipping off every feminine rule her mother had been trying to drill into her for years.

A shiver of disgust ran through Azula as she remembered the time her mother had laid a pink frilly dress on her bed for her birthday. Without a word, she’d handed the ripped-up dress back to her mom, her eyes blazing with pride and a silent rebel dare.

“Aw, look at us—matching, Mom!” Azula shot, smirking like she owned the room.

Ursa’s lips pressed tight.

“Don’t push it, Azula,” she said, cold as ice.

Azula shrugged, full of attitude.

“Can’t help myself,” she said, sliding past to her seat.

Perfect. Just how Azula wanted the night to kick off.

Ursa rolled her eyes as she pulled away, clearly unimpressed.

Azula’s sharp gaze scanned the room. Everyone was already here. Uncle Iroh was chuckling at some quip from Kiyi, her younger half-sister, who always managed to charm him. Zuko sat nearby, practically glowing as he gazed at his boyfriend, Jet, with the kind of doe-eyed adoration that made Azula roll her eyes. And then there was Lu Ten, the so-called star of the evening, looking annoyingly composed as he checked his smartphone.

A smirk tugged at her lips.

“Lulu, the man of the hour,” she called out.

Lu Ten looked up, his face lighting up with a grin when their eyes met.

“Glad you could make it, Zula. It’s been a while.”

“Azula!” Kiyi exclaimed, bouncing up from her seat. “It’s been forever!”

Azula quirked a brow. “It’s been one day.”

Kiyi plopped down beside her as Azula took a seat.

“Yeah, well, it feels like an eternity. This place is boring without you.”

Zuko cleared his throat, shooting Kiyi a pointed look.

“Good to know that everyone in this family, including me, bores you, Kiyi.”

Kiyi shrugged like she hadn’t just insulted half the table. Azula almost smiled. She was the only one in this disaster of a family Azula could halfway stand—and that was entirely because she didn’t kiss anyone’s ass, least of all Ursa’s.

Azula leaned back in her chair, her attention returning to Lu Ten.

“So, Lulu, do us all a favor and take this relationship seriously for once. I’m getting tired of showing up to these dinners every other month for a new girlfriend.”

Lu Ten’s jaw dropped, half-shocked, half-amused.

“Azula!” Ursa snapped.

“What?” Azula said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

Kiyi nodded in agreement, prompting their mother to sigh and press her fingers to her temples. Across the table, Uncle Iroh shot Azula a look of deep disappointment.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” he asked.

Azula’s smirk widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Uncle Iroh rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“So,” she added, her tone casual but pointed, “where is she?”

“She stepped out to the bathroom,” Zuko interjected before Lu Ten could answer. “When she gets back, maybe try being nice for once.”

“I’m always nice,” Azula retorted, her tone dripping with mock offense.

“Yep, she is,” Kiyi chimed in loyally.

“Nope, not always,” Zuko’s irritating boyfriend cut in. “Remember that redhead Lu Ten dated last year? Azula told her he was only into her because her hair matched the family crest.”

“A disaster,” Zuko muttered, rolling his eyes.

Lu Ten burst out laughing, and Azula smirked, clearly proud of herself. Honestly, she wasn’t even sorry. She kind of had a point—yeah, their family had a red dragon on the crest because of some noble ancestor bullshit, and yeah, that girl probably was dating Lu Ten for exactly that dumb reason.

Before Azula could offer a sarcastic remark, Lu Ten abruptly stood, his posture snapping to attention like a soldier’s. Azula frowned, ready to tease him for it, but the words died on her lips.

Because there she was.

The girlfriend.

Lu Ten's fucking girlfriend.

She entered the room with a shy grace, her blue summer dress flowing around her like water. Her brown, curly hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that was...

Azula swallowed.

Not just pretty. Stunning.

“Azula, let me introduce you to Katara,” Lu Ten said, taking the girl’s hand as though she were the most precious thing in the world. The way he looked at her, like she hung the moon, made Azula’s stomach churn unpleasantly.

Katara turned to her, her ocean-blue eyes locking with Azula’s for a moment too long.

“Hi,” she said with a bright, warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Azula looked away, suddenly feeling Kiyi fidgeting beside her.

“You should sit next to Azula,” Kiyi blurted out, practically bouncing in her chair. “She’s hilarious and says the most interesting stuff!”

Azula usually relished Kiyi’s compliments, but right now, she wanted her sister to shut up.

Katara laughed softly.

“I think you’ve got a fan,” she teased, winking at Azula.

"Sorry, Kiyi," interrupted Lu Ten with a playful grin, "but I want her for myself." He gave Azula a wink.

Azula forced a smile, trying to keep her composure.

As the server began to bring them their food, Azula couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dislike for Katara. She hated her already.

Katara was too fucking perfect—too polite to Ursa, too charming to Iroh, and Zuko was already acting like they were lifelong friends. And that dress? Azula wanted to set it on fire just to see if Katara could still look so composed.

Her chest felt tight, the air in the room suddenly too stifling. It had to be the food, she decided. The food was terrible. That was it.

“So,” Katara said to Azula, clearly trying to make conversation. “I heard you own a bar?”

“You heard right,” Azula replied curtly, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Lu Ten said it’s super popular in town.”

“Lu Ten, I didn’t know you were such a fan of mine,” Azula said, directing her words at her cousin.

“Of course he is,” Katara said softly, her tone entirely too earnest.

Azula’s hand clenched into a fist under the table.

"Iroh mentioned that you've been traveling a lot these past few days," Ursa said, her voice calm but probing. "Please, tell us more."

Azula picked at her plate, her appetite nonexistent as her eyes flicked to Katara across the table.

She hadn’t meant to stare, but Katara was impossible to ignore. She was sitting close to Lu Ten, close enough that their shoulders brushed as they leaned toward one another. Katara was speaking, her voice lilting with that soft, friendly tone that Azula instinctively distrusted.

“…and then we traveled through Omashu. It’s such a beautiful city,” Katara was saying, her hands gesturing as she recounted some story. “The architecture is just incredible. Have you ever been?”

Azula realized too late that Katara’s question was directed at her. She raised an eyebrow, her expression flat.

“I own a bar, not a travel agency.”

Kiyi stifled a giggle beside her, but Katara didn’t seem fazed. If anything, she looked amused. Ursa on the other hand looked at her with an arched brow. Her mother was fuming she could tell.

“That’s a shame,” Katara said lightly. “You’d probably love it there. It has such a strong, vibrant energy. Kind of like you.”

Azula blinked. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Before she could think of a retort, Katara continued, turning her attention back to Lu Ten with a soft laugh that grated on Azula’s nerves.

“Do you remember that little café we found by the market? The one with the terrible tea?”

“Hard to forget,” Lu Ten replied with a chuckle, his gaze softening as he looked at Katara. “But I still think you overreacted. It wasn’t that bad.”

Katara nudged him playfully. “It was awful, and you know it.”

Uncle Iroh laughed, clearly amused. "See, told you, Lu Ten. She can’t drink any other tea since she tasted mine."

Azula stabbed her fork into her food with more force than necessary. The way they looked at each other, the ease between them—it was suffocating.

“Azula, how’s the bar doing?” Zuko asked.

She blinked.

“It’s fine,” Azula replied curtly.

Jet smirked from his spot beside Zuko. “Just fine? I heard it’s the hottest spot in the city right now. Guess you’ve got the Midas touch, huh?”

Azula shot him a sharp look. “I don’t need flattery, thanks.”

Zuko sighed, and Kiyi elbowed Azula gently, as if to say, play nice.

But Katara, ever the peacemaker, stepped in again.

“That’s impressive, though,” she said, her tone genuinely admiring. “Running a business like that takes so much work. You must be really good at what you do.”

Azula’s jaw tightened. The way Katara kept talking to her, kept smiling at her like they were old friends, made her skin crawl.

“Yes,” she said, her voice clipped. “I am.”

Katara didn’t seem to notice the edge in her tone—or maybe she was just pretending not to. Either way, it didn’t stop her.

“Lu Ten told me you’ve been running it for years. You must have started really young,” Katara continued, her blue eyes bright with interest.

Azula set her fork down with a deliberate clink, her patience fraying with every word.

“I started when I was twenty, it’s been eight years from now, and it always had been sucessful” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

The table went quiet for a moment, the tension palpable. Kiyi looked between Azula and Katara, clearly trying to gauge if this was about to escalate.

And then Katara laughed softly, as though she hadn’t just stepped on a landmine.

“Twenty? That’s so impressive. No wonder you’re so confident.”

Azula’s fingers curled into a fist under the table. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her, sharp and assessing. A quick glance confirmed it—Ursa was watching her, her expression cool and unreadable, as if she were cataloging every reaction.

Azula forced herself to focus on her plate, biting back the urge to snap. She wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction of seeing her lose control.

Instead, she turned her attention to Zuko, who was feeding Jet a piece of some dessert with a sickeningly fond look. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was better than looking at her.

When Azula glanced at Ursa again, her mother raised a single brow, a silent acknowledgment that said, I see you.

Azula scowled and reached for her drink, swallowing it down in one long sip. The evening couldn’t end soon enough. She stood up abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Kiyi asked, her voice light with curiosity.

"To the bathroom,"

The restaurant’s bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the place—polished marble countertops, gleaming brass fixtures, and soft lighting that made everything look unrealistically flattering. Azula stared at her reflection in the ornate mirror as she rinsed her hands, watching the water swirl down the sink.

She didn’t know why she was still here. Every second spent at that table had felt like suffocation, and Katara’s persistent attempts to charm everyone—including her—had worn her patience thin.

She shook her hands off and reached for a towel when the bathroom door opened.

Azula didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey…” Katara’s voice was tentative, the kind of tone people used when they knew they were about to step onto shaky ground. “It seems like you don’t really like me.”

Azula laughed dryly, not even bothering to look at her.

“What gave it away?” She tossed the towel aside and finally met Katara’s gaze, her golden eyes sharp. “Why would I like you? Lu Ten’s going to drop you in two months for some other doe-eyed girl.”

Katara blinked, visibly startled. “I… what?”

“You heard me,” Azula said coolly, folding her arms. Her voice was as sharp as a blade, every word deliberate. “Don’t act surprised. That’s how this family works. Lu Ten isn’t some romantic hero; he’s a bored rich boy playing with shiny new toys. And right now? You’re the toy.”

Katara’s mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out.

“Please,” Azula continued, her tone laced with mockery, “stop this whole let’s-be-friends routine with me. I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to be your family. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

For a moment, Katara looked genuinely hurt, and Azula felt something twist in her chest. She ignored it.

Katara straightened her shoulders, her face hardening.

“Wow,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You really don’t give anyone a chance, do you?”

Azula didn’t respond. She turned on her heel and strode past Katara, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.

She didn’t go back to the table.

Instead, she walked straight to her car, her pulse hammering in her ears. She slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her.

For a moment, she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she stared through the windshield.

She didn’t regret leaving.

Not really.

But as she sat alone in the silence of her car, she couldn’t shake the image of Katara’s face—the hurt, the confusion, the way she had still tried to reach out despite everything.

Azula shook her head, started the engine, and drove away.

.

.

.

“So, how’s Lu Ten’s new girl?” Mai asked, her voice casual as she leaned against Azula on the couch. Her fingers absently played with strands of Azula’s hair, twisting them in slow, soothing motions.

Azula scowled, glaring at the ceiling.

“Pretty annoying.”

Mai’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“Really?” she drawled, her tone skeptical but intrigued.

Azula shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the feel of Mai’s fingers instead of the memory of Katara’s too-bright smile and impossibly perfect demeanor.

“She talks too much. All sweetness and optimism. It’s nauseating.”

Mai hummed thoughtfully, her fingers pausing in Azula’s hair before continuing with a slight tug.

“You don’t usually care when someone’s annoying. You just ignore them.”

Azula sat up abruptly, shrugging Mai’s hand away as she crossed her arms.

“She’s not worth ignoring. She’s… disruptive.”

Mai raised an eyebrow. “Disruptive how?”

Azula hesitated, her jaw tightening. How could she explain the way Katara had gotten under her skin, the way her presence had felt like a spotlight illuminating every crack in Azula’s carefully constructed armor?

“She’s just… there,” Azula muttered, the words sounding hollow even to her own ears.

Mai leaned back, watching her with a knowing look. “You’re jealous.”

Azula’s head snapped toward her. “What?!”

Mai shrugged, completely unfazed by the sharpness in Azula’s tone.

“You don’t like sharing attention, especially when it’s someone like Lu Ten. He dotes on her, doesn’t he?”

Azula opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Mai’s smirk widened.

“I knew it,” she said, her voice laced with dry amusement. “You hate her because she’s stealing your spotlight.”

“It’s not jealousy,” Azula snapped, her voice cutting. “She’s just fake. Too perfect. People like her are always hiding something, and everyone’s too blind to see it.”

Mai studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm.

“If you say so,” she said softly, though her tone was far from convinced.

Azula bristled, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead, she stared at the wall, her mind racing with thoughts she didn’t want to have. Thoughts of blue eyes and soft laughter and a warmth that felt almost… real.

Chapter Text

The rainbow lights of Ember Glow shimmered like fragments of a kaleidoscope, casting vibrant hues across polished countertops and shadowed alcoves. Every detail of the bar spoke of Azula’s meticulous taste, from the sleek leather stools to the custom-designed glass fixtures that refracted light into cascading rainbows. This was her creation, her domain, a haven of unapologetic vibrancy where laughter echoed, conversations hummed, and music thrummed with life. Here, every detail was under her control, and the energy pulsed in a way that reflected her own fierce, unyielding spirit.

Azula leaned against the counter she had selected herself—solid black marble with subtle gold veins—absently wiping down a glass. Her sharp golden eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces of her regulars. The crowd was a sea of energy, their joy palpable, but tonight, it washed over her like background noise, failing to penetrate the faint haze clouding her thoughts. She loved this place—her bar, her pride—but even here, the world found ways to intrude.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, dragging her out of her moment of solitude. Azula exhaled sharply, setting down the glass before slipping the phone out.

The screen glowed with a message:
Don’t forget to bring the cake for Kiyi’s birthday tomorrow.

She rolled her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. Of course. A reminder from her mother, delivered with that particular brand of gentle insistence that always managed to irritate Azula to no end. It wasn’t that she minded Kiyi, her baby sister’s sixty-day party deserved some attention, but the chore-like tone of the message grated against her nerves.

The phone buzzed again.

Azula?

Her grip on the phone tightened. She could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head, dripping with that blend of sweetness and persistence that had been her childhood soundtrack. Azula’s fingers danced over the keyboard, composing a reply that was practically a masterpiece of saccharine politeness.

Of course, Mother :)

The forced cheer of the words felt like a private rebellion, one that would fly completely under her mother’s radar. With a flick, she locked the phone and tossed it onto the counter. Azula straightened, pulling a bottle from the shelf. This bar was her world, her escape, and tonight, she needed a drink to remind herself of that.

“Something on your mind, sweety?”

The voice snapped Azula out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Ty Lee perched against the bar, her usual mischievous grin lighting up her face. Ty Lee was effortlessly radiant, her long chestnut hair pulled into high twin buns that framed her delicate features. Her outfit—a bubblegum-pink top with matching sneakers—seemed to radiate energy, perfectly complementing her bubbly personality. She was the embodiment of girlish charm, a walking burst of sunshine that felt almost out of place in the sultry ambiance of Ember Glow. Almost, but not quite—because Ty Lee belonged here, as much a part of the bar as the vibrant lights and the thrumming energy.

Azula didn’t respond immediately, her sharp gaze flicking over Ty Lee before sliding back to her phone. With a sharp sigh, she slipped the device into her pocket, trying to shake the irritating weight that had settled in her chest.

“No, just… something family-related,” Azula said, her voice clipped, betraying her annoyance.

Ty Lee tilted her head, her ever-present smile softening as her brows knitted together in the faintest hint of concern.

“Family-related?” she echoed, leaning in closer. “That sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?”

Azula huffed, rolling her eyes. Ty Lee always had that way about her—an infuriating ability to be both nosy and genuinely caring. But as much as Azula resisted it, she valued Ty Lee’s presence, not just as her best friend but also as the heart of the bar. Ty Lee worked here with the same energy she approached everything in life, her cheerful demeanor making her a magnet for customers and a vital part of the Ember Glow family.

Azula crossed her arms, her lips twitching into a wry smirk.

“Not particularly. Just my mother being… well, my mother. She already told me a thousand time about Kiyi’s birthday cake! I’m not stupid for fuck sake!”

Ty Lee’s grin returned in full force, her eyes sparkling.

“Ah, say no more. Classic ‘mom stuff.’ But hey, Kiyi’s party could be fun, right? You’ll get to show everyone how cool and put-together you are!”

Azula let out a short laugh, the sound dry and sharp.

“Right. Because that’s exactly what I want—to parade around and play the doting older sister for a crowd of relatives who barely know me,” Azula muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Or,” Ty Lee countered with a dramatic wave of her hands, “you could just eat cake and be drunk to annoy your mother.”

The corner of Azula’s lips twitched despite herself, and she let out a quiet snort, shaking her head. It was impossible to stay too bitter when Ty Lee was around. She had that uncanny ability to cut through Azula’s mood with her relentless optimism and somehow make even the worst situations feel slightly less grating.

Before Azula could reply, the door of the bar opened, and her sharp gaze immediately flicked toward it.

There she was—Mai.

Azula’s girlfriend strode into the room with her usual unshakable confidence, clad in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that hugged her tall, lithe frame. Her black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her crimson lipstick gleamed like a finishing touch to a masterpiece. She looked as sharp as the edge of a dagger and twice as dangerous, the kind of presence that turned heads wherever she went.

“Mai!” Ty Lee called out cheerfully, practically bouncing in place. “You look amazing! Is that a new suit?”

Mai gave her a faint smirk as she approached the bar.

“Same as the last one, just pressed.” She leaned in to kiss Azula on the lips, her hand brushing briefly against Azula’s shoulder. “Busy night?”

“Same old,” Azula replied with a small, genuine smile, a rare softness reserved only for Mai.

Ty Lee’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned her elbows on the counter.

“Mai, are you coming to Kiyi’s birthday tomorrow?”

Mai paused, arching a brow before letting out a low, amused chuckle.

“Not a chance,” she said, her voice rich with dry humor. “Family parties aren’t really my thing.”

Azula’s smirk returned, but she stayed quiet as Mai excused herself, heading toward the restroom. Her stride was effortless, her presence commanding even as she moved away.

Ty Lee waited until Mai was out of earshot before leaning closer to Azula, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not going to Kiyi’s birthday, huh? That’s… not exactly girlfriend-of-the-year behavior.”

Azula shrugged her shoulders, nonchalant.

“She doesn’t do family. Besides, Kiyi doesn’t care. Mai’s not the cake-and-party type, and I’d rather not spend the whole event explaining why she’s glaring at everyone.”

Ty Lee arched an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah, if you say so.” She giggled, twirling a strand of her chestnut hair between her fingers. “Fair enough, but you’ve gotta admit, it’s kind of funny how opposite you two are. She’s all doom and gloom, and you’re… well, doom and fire.”

Azula shot her a flat look, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward in the faintest hint of amusement.

“Thanks, Ty Lee. Your insight is, as always, earth-shattering.”

Ty Lee beamed, clearly pleased with herself. The two fell into a rare moment of lighthearted silence, the kind that came easily when the warmth of their long-standing friendship filled the air. It was a reprieve from the chaos that usually swirled around Azula, a small moment of calm that felt almost sacred.

The silence was broken by the sound of Mai’s measured footsteps as she returned and took a seat across from Azula. Without a word, Azula reached for the familiar bottles behind the bar and mixed Mai’s usual cocktail with practiced ease. A touch of bourbon, a dash of sweet vermouth, a cherry to finish—the same drink Mai had favored for years. Azula slid the glass across the counter to her girlfriend, her movements fluid and precise, as though the act was muscle memory.

Mai took the drink with a small nod of thanks, her lips curving into the faintest smile. It was a routine, as familiar and comforting as the bar itself, a tradition born of years of quiet companionship.

They had been dating for—what? Almost twelve years now. The thought flickered through Azula’s mind, accompanied by a strange mix of pride and disbelief. Mai had been her only lover, her only girlfriend, her every first time. There was something unshakable about their bond, something that had withstood the storms of Azula’s temperament and the inevitable challenges of life.

“You’re probably soulmates,” Zuko had told her once, his tone half-teasing but laced with that quiet certainty her brother sometimes managed to convey.

Azula had brushed it off with a scoff at the time, but now, watching Mai sip her drink with her usual composed grace, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d been right.

Azula was leaning against the bar, idly swirling a glass of water, when her phone buzzed loudly against the counter. She glanced at the screen and froze for a second.

Lu Ten?

Her cousin rarely called. They were family, yes, but their relationship was one of polite distance, punctuated by occasional family gatherings and shared jokes about their shared chaotic lineage. A call from him was out of the ordinary.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, brushing past Mai and Ty Lee as she grabbed her phone and walked toward a quieter corner of the bar.

“Lu Ten,” she answered curtly, her voice edged with curiosity and suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Azula,” he said, sounding unusually frazzled. “Listen, I need a favor.”

Azula narrowed her eyes, already skeptical. “Go on.”

“It’s about tomorrow—Kiyi’s birthday,” Lu Ten began. “Katara’s car broke down, and I’ve got this insane work schedule. I was wondering if you could… you know… bring her with you? Give her a ride?”

Azula’s grip on the phone tightened, her jaw clenching. The mere mention of Katara’s name sent a flare of irritation through her chest. She hadn’t seen that girl in a month, not since their ill-fated dinner at the restaurant. The memory rose unbidden, vivid and sharp—the bathroom, the tension crackling between them, the words she’d spat with venom.

“Why would I like you?” she’d said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Lu Ten’s going to drop you in two months for some other doe-eyed girl.”

Katara had just stood there, defiant and unyielding, refusing to give Azula the satisfaction of a reaction. It had only made Azula angrier. Everything about Katara rubbed her the wrong way—her calm composure, her irritatingly good manners, the way she always seemed so… so perfect.

“Azula?” Lu Ten’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

She swallowed her anger, her voice coming out sharper than she intended.

“Why can’t she just call a cab?”

“Come on,” Lu Ten sighed. “It’s not that big a deal. She’s family now, kind of. And I’m drowning in work here. Just pick her up. Please?”

Azula wanted to snap, to tell him exactly how much she hated the idea of spending any time alone with Katara. But this was Lu Ten—her cousin, someone she didn’t exactly dislike—and he wasn’t the type to ask for favors lightly.

She inhaled sharply, forcing her voice into something resembling calm.

“Fine. But this is a one-time thing.”

“Thanks, Azula,” Lu Ten said, relief evident in his tone. “I owe you.”

She ended the call without another word, her hand gripping the phone tightly. As she returned to the bar, her expression was stormy, her thoughts churning. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

Azula’s mood was as dark as the shadows pooling in the corners of the bar as she stalked back to her post. Ty Lee was cheerfully serving drinks to a group of patrons, her bubbly energy lighting up the room, while Mai sat at the far end, savoring her cocktail with her usual composed air.

Azula dropped behind the bar with a sharp exhale, grabbing a bottle and twisting it open with more force than necessary.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" asked Ty Lee.

“Turns out Lu Ten has a girlfriend,” she muttered, her tone laced with bitterness, “and apparently, I’ve been designated her chauffeur tomorrow.”

Ty Lee froze mid-pour, her lips parting in surprise.

“Lu Ten?” she asked, incredulous. “You mean your womanizer cousin?”

“Yup, that one,” Azula replied, the disdain dripping from her words making it abundantly clear how she felt about the whole situation.

Ty Lee tilted her head, studying her friend with a curious expression. “And you’re… not happy about it?”

Azula’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of irritation still burning behind her otherwise calm facade.

“Why would I be happy about it?” she snapped.

“Well, it is Lu Ten,” Ty Lee said with a smirk, though her tone held a glimmer of something more serious. “He’s always been… let’s say unpredictable when it comes to love.”

Azula scoffed, the sound sharp as she slammed the bottle onto the counter.

“Is she pretty? The girlfriend?” Ty Lee asked, her tone teasing as she leaned in closer.

Azula rolled her eyes, lips curling in mock exasperation.

“You’re such a lesbian,” Mai deadpanned, breaking her silence with a smirk.

“Always and forever,” Ty Lee replied, beaming.

Despite herself, Azula let out a small laugh, the moment cutting through her simmering frustration. Ty Lee always had that way about her—disarming, even when Azula didn’t want to be.

“So,” Ty Lee pressed, her grin widening as she wiped down the bar with exaggerated nonchalance, “is she hot?”

Mai raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as she took another measured sip of her drink.

Azula sighed, casting her gaze to the countertop, as if the gleam of polished wood could suppress the flare of irritation rising in her chest.

“She’s… nice, I guess,” she said finally, the words clipped and mechanical.

A lie.

But it was easier to say than to admit the truth.Ty Lee’s grin widened, her voice teasing yet knowing.

“You’re lying,” she sing-songed.

“I’m not!” Azula shot back, defensive.

“Please, love, I know you too well,” Ty Lee said, leaning closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, you can tell me. I mean, it’s not like Mai cares, right?” She turned to Mai, her confidence wavering just slightly. “Right?”

Mai shrugged, utterly unbothered, and took a long, slow sip of her drink.

Azula’s gaze flickered for a moment, her mask cracking just enough to reveal the spark of something she refused to name. But she quickly regained her composure, her walls snapping back into place as easily as they had fallen.

“I told you,” Azula said coolly, her voice flat and unyielding. “She’s just… nice.”

Ty Lee tilted her head, clearly unconvinced, but she let it drop for the moment, though her smirk lingered. Azula tightened her grip on the counter, resolutely ignoring the lingering image of Katara’s face that had crept into her mind, unbidden and unwanted.

Azula was wiping down the bar with sharp, precise movements, her jaw clenched as she replayed the conversation with Lu Ten in her mind. The idea of spending time with Katara tomorrow was gnawing at her patience, threatening to put her in an even worse mood than she was already in.

Mai’s calm voice broke through her thoughts.

“Azula.”

Azula glanced up to see Mai standing next to her, one hand casually resting on her drink, the other reaching out to place a warm, steadying touch on Azula’s arm. The gesture was soft but firm, grounding her in a way few things could.

“What?” Azula asked, her tone sharp but lacking its usual bite.

Mai’s amber eyes met hers, steady and unflinching.

“Don’t traumatize Katara tomorrow,” she said flatly, though there was a hint of dry humor in her voice.

Azula scoffed, pulling her arm away but not too forcefully.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she muttered, though the way her fingers gripped the cloth in her hand suggested otherwise.

Mai raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Really? Because the last time you saw her, you cornered her in a bathroom and told her she’d be dumped in two months. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘friendly chauffeur.’”

Azula bristled, her gaze snapping to Mai.

“She deserved it,” she snapped. “She thinks she’s so perfect, so untouchable. Someone had to bring her down a peg.”

Mai didn’t flinch, her expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

“Maybe. But tomorrow’s about Kiyi, not whatever personal grudge you’re holding onto.”

Azula exhaled sharply, her eyes darting away. She hated when Mai was right, which was often.

“I’ll behave,” she said finally, the words grudging and clipped.

Mai’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles.

“Good. Because if you don’t, Ty Lee and I will hear about it for the next month, and frankly, I don’t have the energy for that.”

Azula rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the ghost of a smirk that tugged at her lips. Leave it to Mai to cut through her frustration with dry wit and a touch of practicality.

Mai patted her arm once before returning to her seat, leaving Azula standing there, her mind already racing with ways to survive tomorrow without giving in to the temptation of making Katara’s life miserable.

.

.

.

The sun was already high, casting a warm glow on the city streets, as Azula pulled her sleek black car up to the curb in front of Lu Ten’s flat. Dressed in simple jeans and a crisp white shirt—both understated but undeniably expensive—she leaned back in her seat, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the glare.

Her mood, predictably, was foul.

Katara was already standing on the sidewalk, waiting. Azula’s eyes swept over her briefly, and she immediately bristled. Katara was wearing a white crop top and a long, flowing blue skirt with a floral pattern. The bright, cheerful outfit irritated Azula for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate.

Her long, curly hair was pulled up into a messy bun, strands of it loosely framing her face. Azula’s gaze lingered a little too long on the back of her neck, where the soft, exposed skin seemed to beckon for attention. Azula hated how easily her eyes were drawn to it.

Of course, she looks like a walking Pinterest board, Azula thought with a scowl as she unlocked the car doors. The image of Katara standing there, with her carefree beauty and that irritatingly perfect posture, made Azula’s blood simmer.

“Get in,” Azula muttered, her voice sharp as she gestured to the passenger seat, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as though she could somehow will her annoyance away.

Katara blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her features before she stepped forward and climbed into the car, the sound of the door shutting sharply behind her.

Azula couldn’t shake the feeling that Katara was simply too… easy in a way she couldn’t stand. Too calm. Too perfect. Too disarming. And Azula wasn’t used to being disarmed.

Katara slid into the passenger seat, her movements graceful and unhurried, the scent of her subtle perfume wafting into the car. She adjusted her skirt as she settled in, her expression neutral but guarded.

“Thanks for the ride,” Katara said after a moment, though her tone was clipped.

Azula didn’t look at her, her hands gripping the steering wheel. The air between them was thick, tension crackling like static.

Katara turned slightly, her voice firmer this time. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask for this. Lu Ten insisted.”

Azula’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. Without replying, she reached for the car stereo and cranked up the music—some sharp, pulsing track that filled the space with a deliberately overwhelming volume.

Katara’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as she stared straight ahead. The message was clear: Conversation over.

The two women sat in silence as the car roared down the road, the tension between them palpable despite the deafening music. For Azula, drowning out Katara’s voice felt like a small victory. For Katara, it was just one more reason to dislike the woman who seemed to make it her mission to be unbearable.

The ride was going to feel like an eternity.

.

.

.

The sprawling villa loomed ahead as Azula turned her car into the circular driveway, its white walls glowing softly in the afternoon sun. The garden was alive with color—string lights hung between trees, a massive pool sparkled, and a DJ booth in the corner thumped out music loud enough to be heard from the entrance. Groups of teenagers in designer outfits mingled on the expansive lawn, laughing and sipping from glasses of sparkling juice or mocktails.

Azula parked and stepped out of the car, her face set in its usual cool indifference. Katara followed, her blue skirt fluttering in the light breeze.

The villa door swung open before they could knock, revealing Ursa, radiant in a soft peach dress. Her warm smile immediately lit up as her eyes landed on Katara.

“Katara!” Ursa exclaimed, her arms opening wide.

She stepped forward and enveloped Katara in a hug, her genuine affection palpable.

Katara hugged her back, smiling politely. “It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Avery.”

Azula trailed behind, her sunglasses hiding the way she rolled her eyes. When Ursa finally turned to her, the smile she wore was tight, carefully polite.

“Azula,” her mother said, her tone flat. “Did you bring the cake?”

No hello, no how are you, not even a glance at the effort—or lack thereof—Azula had made for the event.

Azula tilted her head, her lips curving into a sardonic smile.

“Of course, Mother,” she said, her voice sweet and venomous all at once, as she reached into the back seat to retrieve the elaborately decorated box.

Ursa took the cake with a nod, already turning her attention back to Katara, leaving Azula standing there.

Grimacing, Azula stepped into the villa, scanning the crowd for her little sister. Kiyi was easy to spot, her bright dress and bounding energy standing out among the sea of too-cool-for-this teenagers. The moment Kiyi saw Azula, her face lit up, and she dashed over, practically tackling her older sister with a hug.

“Azula! You came!” Kiyi exclaimed, her voice bursting with excitement.

Azula’s lips softened into a rare, genuine smile.

“Of course I did,” she said, handing her the elegantly wrapped box she’d brought. “Happy birthday.”

Kiyi’s eyes went wide as she tore into the gift, revealing a custom gaming console in her favorite colors.

“Oh my gosh! This is amazing! Thank you!”

Azula smirked. “Only the best for you.”

The moment was short-lived. Kiyi’s attention shifted, her face lighting up once again as she spotted someone over Azula’s shoulder.

“Katara!” she squealed, running to hug her.

Azula turned, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief as she watched Kiyi throw her arms around Katara like they were old friends. Katara hugged her back warmly, laughing.

“What are you doing here?” Kiyi asked, delighted.

“Your mother thought I should join the party,” Katara said, her tone kind.

Azula stood rooted to the spot, her arms crossed. Her sister’s reaction left her stunned. She couldn’t believe it. Katara, with her perfect manners and effortless charm, had somehow ingratiated herself into her family. The ease with which she fit into their world—it grated against Azula like nails on a chalkboard.

As Katara and Kiyi chatted animatedly, Azula turned away, muttering under her breath, “Of course she fits right in.”

.

.

.

Azula slipped away from the throng of teenagers, seeking refuge in the quieter parts of the villa. The muffled bass of the party music grew fainter as she wandered, finally stepping onto the expansive balcony that overlooked the gardens. There, leaning casually against the railing, were Zuko and his boyfriend, Jet.

A faint cloud of smoke hung in the air, Jet exhaling lazily as he held a cigarette between his fingers. Zuko, arms crossed, glanced over as Azula approached.

“Look who’s graced us with her presence,” Jet said with a smirk, flicking ash off the railing. His sharp, dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Heard you’re playing chauffeur today. How’s that going?”

Azula’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, it’s been a dream. Thanks for asking.”

Jet chuckled, leaning toward Zuko. “Can you imagine Azula being someone’s driver? Bet she loved that.”

“Absolutely thrilling,” Azula deadpanned, crossing her arms. She shot Jet a withering glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bad influence on my brother somewhere else?”

Zuko sighed, clearly used to their banter.

“Why do you hate Katara so much?” he asked, cutting straight to the point. His tone wasn’t accusing, just genuinely curious.

Azula scoffed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Hate’s a strong word.”

Jet snorted. “Right. Sure doesn’t sound like it.”

Azula ignored him, fixing Zuko with a pointed look.

“Just look at her,” she said, exasperation dripping from her voice.

Zuko raised an eyebrow, glancing back toward the garden where Katara was chatting with Kiyi and a group of partygoers, her laughter carrying faintly in the breeze.

Jet tilted his head, scrutinizing her for a moment before leaning in conspiratorially.

“Okay, not gonna lie,” he said, lowering his voice just enough to make it teasing, “if I wasn’t so into guys…”

Zuko let out a laugh, nudging Jet’s shoulder.

“Same,” he admitted, his tone light but sincere.

Azula groaned, throwing her hands up. “You two are insufferable.”

Jet grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

“You’re just mad because you know we’re right. Admit it, Azula. If you didn’t hate her so much, you’d be crushing on her too.”

Azula’s glare could have melted steel.

“I’d rather gouge my own eyes out.And I already have a beautiful girlfriend,” she said, her tone cold and cutting. “In case you forgot, her name is Mai. She’s the one who doesn’t waste her time making juvenile comments on balconies.”

Jet raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, we know about Mai,” he said smoothly, leaning casually against the railing. “She’s gorgeous, no question.” He tapped his cigarette against the edge of the balcony, the ember glowing faintly. “But… where is she right now, huh?”

Azula’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“Mai doesn’t need to babysit me,” she snapped. “Unlike some people, we have a mature relationship.”

Jet exchanged a knowing glance with Zuko, clearly entertained, though Zuko quickly smothered a smile when he saw Azula’s murderous glare.

“Sure, mature,” Jet said, his smirk widening. “It’s just funny how Katara seems to rattle you more than anyone else ever does. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Before Azula could explode, Zuko raised a hand, stepping in.

“Jet,” he said firmly, his voice calm but with an edge. “Katara is Lu Ten’s girlfriend. Maybe dial it back a little. That was… kind of inappropriate.”

Jet tilted his head, clearly unbothered by the reprimand, though he did hold up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Just having some fun. No need to get defensive.”

Zuko gave him a pointed look before turning back to Azula.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he said evenly.

Azula’s glare didn’t falter, but she forced herself to take a measured breath.

“Maybe you should find a boyfriend who knows when to keep his mouth shut,” she shot back before turning on her heel.

“Love you too, Azula!” Jet called after her, his grin audible in his voice.

As the balcony door shut behind her, Azula’s steps were brisk and purposeful, but her mind was a storm of irritation. Zuko’s intervention had saved Jet from her wrath—for now—but the tension simmering in her chest didn’t abate. She couldn’t decide what annoyed her more: Jet’s comments, or the fact that they hit far closer to home than she wanted to admit.

.

.

.

Azula stood by the edge of the garden, away from the crowd. The music from the party reverberated faintly in the background, but she was wrapped in her own calm, detached peace. She had a cigarette between her fingers, the smoke curling upward as she took slow, deliberate drags. The flickering glow of the embers illuminated her sharp features as she leaned against the stone pillar, her eyes unfocused as she observed the chaos unfolding around her.

The laughter, the chatter, the clink of glasses—it was all distant, like a muffled soundtrack to her own thoughts. She didn’t care for the festivities, for the frivolous chatter that filled the air. She was content, for the moment, to simply exist outside of it all.

Her gaze drifted lazily across the garden, watching the movements of the guests. And then, unexpectedly, her eyes caught something that made her grip the cigarette tighter.

Lu Ten was finally there. He walked into the scene, his easy smile as charming as ever, and before Azula could look away, he pulled Katara into his arms. With a soft, almost tender gesture, he took her by the waist and kissed her gently on the lips.

Azula’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as she watched Katara smile—that smile. The one that made her look so open, so vulnerable, so… uncomplicated. Katara’s eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back, her lips curving upward in delight. Azula didn’t even realize her fingers had tightened around the cigarette until the sharp pain of heat seared through her skin.

"Shit!" she hissed, startled by the burn, and jerked her hand away. The cigarette fell to the ground, the ember snuffed out in the grass as she shook her hand out, her temper flaring for no apparent reason.

It wasn’t Katara’s smile. It wasn’t Lu Ten. It was everything. The way they stood there, so comfortable in each other's arms, so effortlessly happy. It made something sour coil in Azula’s chest, a feeling she couldn’t name, couldn’t explain.

She hated it.

Without thinking, she crushed the cigarette beneath her heel and turned away, her gaze icy, her mind already set. She wasn’t staying.

She didn’t need to be here. She didn’t need to watch this. She didn’t need to feel anything.

Azula made her way through the crowd, her posture stiff and her pace brisk. She passed by people she recognized, people who didn’t matter, not today. She ignored them all, her face a carefully crafted mask of indifference.

When she reached the exit, she didn’t even hesitate. She slipped through the gate without a second glance, the sounds of the party growing quieter with every step.

Not a word to anyone. No explanation. No goodbye.

The world could carry on without her.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday night, and like every Saturday night, Azula was working. Her bar was a sanctuary of ordered chaos—the rhythm of shaking shakers, the hiss of soda being poured, and the murmur of patrons weaving a symphony of control she orchestrated flawlessly. She owned the room with effortless grace, her sharp eyes darting between her staff and the customers, always one step ahead of any potential mishap.

Azula’s commanding presence didn’t go unnoticed. The black tank top she wore clung to her toned frame, offering a teasing glimpse of her midriff just above the waistband of her black jeans. Golden bangles adorned her wrists, catching the bar’s dim light with every fluid movement. Her hair, tied back in a loose bun, had two delicate strands framing her sharp, striking features. She was radiant, and she knew it.

As she poured a martini with practiced precision, a customer approached the counter—a girl with bold eyes and a confident smile.

“A whiskey sour, please,” the girl said, leaning in just a little closer than necessary.

When Azula handed her the drink, their fingers brushed, and the girl winked playfully.

Azula smirked, the corners of her lips curling with cool amusement. She knew she was beautiful, and the attention wasn’t new to her. But she was already spoken for, her heart belonging entirely to Mai. And no amount of winks or flirtatious smiles could tempt her to betray the woman she loved.

She turned back to her work, her smirk softening into something more private, almost tender, as she thought of Mai. No one could ever compare—not even close.

The customer, clearly undeterred by Azula's distant demeanor, took another sip of her whiskey sour. She toyed with the straw in her glass, her smile unwavering.

"So, you run this place all on your own? Pretty impressive for someone so... charming." Her voice was soft, almost sing-song, as she locked eyes with Azula, searching for a crack in the armor.

Azula raised an eyebrow, her amusement thinly veiled. She finished wiping down a glass and carefully placed it on the shelf behind her, taking her time before responding.

"Charming, huh?" she replied, her voice low and laced with sarcasm. She crossed her arms, her piercing gaze now firmly fixed on the woman. "Look, I’m going to do you a favor. Save your charm for someone else, because you’re wasting your time with me."

The customer blinked, slightly caught off guard by the directness, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

"Shame. I like a challenge," she shrugged, feigning indifference.

Azula smirked, but this time, her smile was sharp, cutting like a blade. She leaned slightly over the counter, closing the distance between them just enough to make her point clear.

"Oh, trust me," she said, her tone calm and icy, "you don’t want this kind of challenge. You might end up getting burned."

Her words were a quiet warning, but their weight landed heavily. The woman hesitated, her boldness faltering. She took a long sip of her drink, as if to mask her discomfort.

Satisfied, Azula straightened up and reached for a bottle of gin to prepare another order. Before turning away, she added one last jab with a mocking smile.

"Have a good night. And don’t forget to leave a tip."

The customer, her ego clearly bruised, nodded silently and took another drink, realizing that trying to flirt with Azula was a battle she had no hope of winning.

As Azula turned back to her work, grabbing a shaker and measuring out ingredients for the next cocktail, Ty Lee suddenly popped up beside her. She moved with her usual light-footed energy, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

Ty Lee leaned on the counter, her wide grin practically glowing.

“Well, well, looks like someone’s still got it,” she teased, her eyes darting toward the retreating customer. “Didn’t even take you two minutes to break her spirit. New record?”

Azula didn’t even look up, pouring the freshly shaken cocktail into a chilled glass with her signature precision.

“She was wasting my time,” she said flatly, placing a garnish on the drink.

“Uh-huh,” Ty Lee said, clearly not letting it go. “You know, you could’ve at least let her down a little easier. Poor girl looked like she might cry!”

Azula finally glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “What do you want, Ty Lee?”

Ty Lee gasped dramatically, putting a hand over her chest. “What, I can’t come check on my favorite boss-slash-best-friend? Besides, watching you crush hearts like that? Totally worth it.”

Azula rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“If you’ve got time to stand around and talk, you’ve got time to clear tables,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Fine, fine,” Ty Lee said, hopping up from the counter. But as she started to walk away, she turned back and added with a grin, “Oh, and don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me—Mai doesn’t have to know about your fan club.”

Azula shot her a withering glare, but Ty Lee only giggled and skipped off toward the tables, leaving Azula to shake her head and mutter under her breath. Some nights, her staff was more chaotic than the customers.

Azula returned to her work, her hands deftly mixing a new cocktail while her sharp eyes scanned the bar. Across the room, Ty Lee had somehow made her way back behind the counter, now standing beside her. She was enthusiastically chatting with a couple of customers, laughing at something they said while expertly shaking a drink of her own. Azula sighed but allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile. It was a good night—busy but under control.

But that veneer of calm shattered like glass the moment the door swung open. A gust of cold air followed the new arrival, sending a brief chill through the bar. Yet it wasn’t the cold that made Azula’s heart skip a beat—it was her.

Katara.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow, the bar’s hum fading into the background as Azula’s golden eyes locked onto the figure in the doorway. Her grip on the cocktail shaker tightened imperceptibly, but the practiced mask she wore didn’t falter. At least, not yet.

Katara stepped inside, and Azula froze, the cocktail shaker in her hand forgotten mid-motion. Katara was wearing a short, black dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, paired with sleek heels that made her legs look impossibly long. Her curly brown hair was pulled into a slightly messy bun, with a few loose strands framing her face in a way that seemed effortless and maddeningly perfect.

Azula felt her throat tighten, her usual sharp wit temporarily short-circuited. Her pulse quickened, and she had to fight the urge to stare too long, but it was impossible to look away.

“Who’s that?” Ty Lee’s cheerful voice jolted Azula out of her daze.

Azula stiffened, her expression unreadable as she muttered, “It’s Lu Ten’s girlfriend.”

Ty Lee’s jaw dropped, and she let out a low whistle.

“Wait, that’s Lu Ten’s girlfriend? Sorry, but you called her nice? She’s not nice; she’s fucking hot! Like, insanely hot!” Ty Lee’s eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and disbelief.

Azula didn’t respond right away, her jaw tightening as she set the shaker down a little too forcefully.

She knew all too well. The way Katara looked tonight wasn’t something Azula would soon forget—or had any hope of ignoring. It wasn’t just the dress or the heels or the way her hair caught the light. It was Katara herself, her presence commanding the room in a way that made Azula’s chest ache and burn all at once.

Fuck.

Katara hadn’t seen her yet, thank the spirits, but Azula could feel her resolve wavering. What the hell was she doing here? And who was the girl by her side?

Azula forced herself to look away, her hands gripping the counter as she tried to steady her breathing. This wasn’t the time or place to let her emotions slip, and she knew it. But as Ty Lee kept stealing glances at Katara and murmuring about how unfair it was for someone to look that good, Azula couldn’t help but glance back.

Her stomach tightened when she saw Katara laugh at something the girl beside her said, her head tilting back just slightly.

Azula swallowed hard, her throat dry. She needed to focus. She needed to work. But as she watched Katara move further into the bar, every step she took seemed to draw Azula closer to a breaking point she wasn’t sure she could handle.

Azula’s sharp amber eyes narrowed as she watched the girl lean close to Katara, whispering something that made Katara laugh again. Her laughter was soft, genuine, the kind of sound that tugged at something deep in Azula’s chest. And for some inexplicable reason, it made her grip the edge of the counter a little too hard.

When Katara’s gaze finally drifted around the bar and landed on Azula, she froze. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the hum of the bar seemed to fade into nothing. Katara’s expression shifted from relaxed to surprised, her lips parting slightly as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“This is your bar?” Katara asked, breaking the tension as she took a hesitant step forward.

Azula leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. Her posture was casual, but her eyes were anything but.

“Yup,” she said curtly, her tone clipped.

Katara looked a little flustered.

“I... I didn’t know you owned—”

“A queer bar?” Azula interrupted, her eyebrow arching. Her voice carried a sharp edge now, daring Katara to make an issue of it. “Yeah. Does it bother you?”

Katara’s eyes widened slightly, and she raised her hands as if in surrender.

“No, no! It doesn’t bother me at all. Why are you getting angry all of a sudden?”

Azula’s jaw clenched, but she ignored the question, her gaze shifting toward the girl who had made Katara laugh not once, but twice.

"And you are?" Azula asked, her voice sharp.

"Oh, I’m Suki," the girl responded, "Katara’s best friend, right?"

Azula watched them exchange a glance, the kind of look that said they shared some private joke. She smirked, but it shouldn’t bother her. Why would it? Why the hell would it affect her? She didn’t care about Katara, and Katara had every right to have a best friend—no, a best friend.

"Suki, this is Azula," Katara said, introducing her, "she’s Lu Ten’s cousin."

Lu Ten’s cousin.

At that moment, Azula’s stomach tightened. She was Lu Ten’s cousin, and annoying Katara was his girlfriend. The realization made Azula notice how Suki glanced at Katara, like they shared some unspoken understanding. It was probably because Katara had told her about the cold reception Azula had given her—how unfair and mean she had been.

Azula couldn’t blame her. She didn’t like Katara, and she wasn’t going to pretend that she enjoyed her company.

"Nice to..."

"What do you want to drink?" Azula interrupted.

Suki blinked, caught off guard, but she quickly responded.

"Two mojitos."

As Azula turned her back to prepare the drinks, she overheard Ty Lee introducing herself to Suki and Katara as Azula’s best friend.

Fuck.

Azula closed her eyes briefly, listening to Ty Lee’s usual bubbly chatter—her laughing, joking with Katara and Suki. This was her luck.

Why, of all the bars in town, did they have to come here?

At least...

"I’m bisexual," Suki said to Ty Lee, "and I heard this bar is like... the place to go if you want to meet a cute girl."

Ty Lee laughed, and Azula could hear her teasing Katara.

"And you’re the straight best friend, already taken by a cute boy, supporting her best friend’s attempt to chase after a cute girl?"

Azula rolled her eyes. Ty Lee always had a way with words. But well, she was usually right.

"Yeah, something like that," Katara laughed. "But, most importantly, I just want to have fun."

The drinks ready, Azula turned back and set the glasses in front of them.

"Ty Lee, there are customers waiting for orders," she said, her voice sharp.

"Oops, sorry guys! It was nice meeting you, hope we can talk more later!"

Azula didn’t catch what Suki said next—she was already looking at Katara, who was pulling out her credit card.

"It’s on the house," Azula said, cutting her off.

Katara looked at her, surprised.

"Oh, thanks," she replied, her voice soft.

Suki thanked her too, then took her drink and had a sip, turning toward the dance floor. Katara, however, was still looking at Azula, surprise etched on her face.

Actually, Azula was surprised too. The words had slipped out before she could stop them.

"Having fun, right?" she asked, locking her gaze with Katara’s deep blue eyes.

"Yeah," Katara answered. "I like dancing."

Azula’s lips twitched, forming something that resembled a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She tilted her head, studying Katara in silence for an uncomfortable moment.

"Sure you are," she finally said, her tone dripping with skepticism, though she didn’t challenge her outright.

Katara’s flush deepened, and she crossed her arms defensively.

"I am!" she insisted, her voice wavering slightly under Azula’s steady gaze.

"Right," Azula said, dragging the word out, her smirk growing sharper. "Well, enjoy your fun."

Without waiting for Katara’s response, Azula turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t look back, but she could still feel Katara’s gaze on her.

And she hated how much it mattered.

.

.

.

Azula leaned against the bar, her fingers gripping her glass so tightly she was sure it might crack. Her jaw was clenched, her amber eyes fixed on the dance floor where Katara and her friend, Suki, were moving to the rhythm of the music. The dim lights of the bar flickered across the room, illuminating Katara’s every curve, every graceful sway of her hips.

That dress.

That infuriatingly short, black dress that clung to her like it had been designed just to torture Azula.

And those heels. Those heels.

Katara was a vision, a distraction Azula didn’t want and couldn’t shake. Her hair, loosely pinned in a messy bun, left strands curling delicately around her face and neck, like a deliberate act of defiance against Azula’s resolve. She looked too good—too unfairly good—and Azula hated her for it.

Her teeth ground together as she watched Katara laugh again, leaning into Suki for a playful twirl. The way her lips curved, her cheeks glowing with delight—it was infuriating. Katara didn’t belong here, in her bar, in her sanctuary. This was supposed to be Azula’s safe place, a world where she could escape the chaos of her thoughts, the tangled mess of her emotions. But no. Katara had to show up, looking like that, and ruin everything.

Worse still, she had the audacity to be here and be straight.

Azula scoffed under her breath, taking a sharp sip of her drink. Straight. Right. She couldn’t stand the thought of it. Katara’s insistence on her straightness, on her untouchable, unavailable status, felt like a personal insult. It was as if the universe was mocking her, dangling something irresistible just out of reach.

And now, here she was, dancing in Azula’s bar, in her line of sight, looking like she belonged here—like she belonged with someone. It was unbearable.

“Why are you staring?” Ty Lee’s voice snapped Azula out of her spiral. She was perched beside her, her wide eyes bouncing between Azula and the dance floor with barely concealed amusement.

“I’m not staring,” Azula muttered, her tone sharp as a blade. She took another drink, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the glass in her hand, as if willing herself not to look again.

Ty Lee giggled, unconvinced.

“Uh, yeah, you are. You’ve been glaring at Katara like she stole your favorite knife or something.”

Azula’s fingers tightened around the glass.

“She didn’t steal anything. I’m just...” Her voice trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t owe Ty Lee—or anyone—an explanation.

“Uh-huh.” Ty Lee smirked knowingly, leaning closer. “You’re mad because she’s here, looking all gorgeous, dancing with her hot bisexual friend, and being... you know.”

Azula raised an eyebrow, cutting her off with an icy glare.

“Being what?”

“Straight,” Ty Lee said with a teasing grin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Azula scoffed again, turning her attention back to the bar.

“She can be whatever she wants,” she said coldly, though the bitterness in her voice betrayed her. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Right,” Ty Lee said, drawing out the word with exaggerated disbelief. “Because you totally haven’t been staring at her all night like she’s the last ember in a dying fire.”

Azula slammed her glass down, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

“I’m not staring, Ty Lee. Drop it.”

But even as she said it, her eyes betrayed her, flicking back to Katara, to the way her dress swayed, to the effortless grace of her movements. She hated it. Hated how Katara had wormed her way into her thoughts, her space, her everything.

And she hated, more than anything, how much she wanted to cross that room, grab Katara’s hand, and drag her away from everyone else—from the crowd, from Suki, from everything.

But she didn’t. Because Katara was Lu Ten’s girlfriend. And Azula hated that too.

“Might I remind you,” Ty Lee said with a pointed look, her usual bubbly tone edged with something resembling concern, “that you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home?”

Azula’s jaw tightened as the words hit her like a bucket of ice water. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting to her drink for refuge. She had forgotten about Mai. Completely. Utterly. Katara had made her forget.

That was…

That was fucking shit.

“Sure, I know,” Azula said stiffly, though her voice lacked its usual bite. Her hand hovered over her glass, fingers twitching, unsure whether to drink or smash it against the counter just to feel something else.

“And,” Ty Lee continued, as if sensing she’d struck a nerve, “might I also remind you that she’s your cousin’s girlfriend?”

Azula’s hand clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm as her temper flared.

“Ty Lee,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “don’t you have clients to serve?”

Ty Lee raised her hands in mock surrender, a slight pout on her lips.

“Fine, fine. But don’t get mad at me for pointing out the obvious. Just saying you’re playing with some serious fire here.”

Azula’s glare could have frozen fire itself.

“I said, go serve someone, Ty Lee.”

Ty Lee gave her one last searching look, her usual cheer dimmed slightly by something that looked suspiciously like worry. But she didn’t push further. Instead, she shrugged and flounced off to greet a group of patrons at the other end of the bar, leaving Azula alone with her thoughts.

The tension in Azula’s chest didn’t ease. If anything, it grew tighter as she allowed her eyes to drift back to the dance floor, back to her. Katara was still laughing, still radiant, still the center of Azula’s world in a way she didn’t want to admit.

Mai’s face flashed briefly in her mind—calm, stoic, dependable Mai. The one who never let her down, the one who understood her in a way few people did. The one who should be on her mind right now. But she wasn’t.

Instead, it was Katara. Katara, who shouldn’t even matter. Katara, who was everything Azula didn’t need. Katara, who made her forget Mai entirely.

Azula tightened her fist and forced her gaze back to the counter. She had to stop. She had to get a grip. But the lingering ache in her chest told her it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Azula had promised herself she wouldn’t look again, that she’d keep her focus on her bar, her duties, and anything but Katara. But her eyes betrayed her, flicking back to the dance floor as if pulled by an invisible force.

What she saw made her breath catch—and not in a good way.

Suki was no longer with Katara. Instead, a tall, seductive woman with sleek black hair and a predatory smile was pressed close to her. Too close. Her hands rested on Katara’s waist, fingers curling possessively as they swayed to the rhythm of the music. The woman leaned in, her lips hovering near Katara’s ear, whispering something that made Katara laugh.

Azula’s stomach twisted into a knot so tight she could barely breathe. A heat, sharp and consuming, surged through her chest, spreading to her fingertips. She didn’t even bother analyzing it—jealousy, anger, possessiveness, whatever it was—it burned.

And before she even realized what she was doing, her feet were moving.

She barely registered the curious stares of patrons as she crossed the bar and stepped onto the dance floor, her stride purposeful, her gaze locked on Katara and the stranger. The music thrummed around her, the lights casting shifting shadows, but everything else faded into the background.

The moment she reached them, Azula stepped between the woman and Katara, her back straight, her presence commanding. The stranger raised an eyebrow, startled by the sudden interruption, but Azula didn’t give her so much as a glance.

Katara blinked up at her, her cheeks still flushed from the dance—or maybe something else.

“Azula?” she asked, her voice breathless, her surprise evident.

Azula didn’t answer immediately. Her hand shot out, lightly gripping Katara’s wrist, pulling her just a step closer. She cast the other woman a withering glare, her amber eyes burning with an unspoken warning.

“Find someone else to dance with,” Azula said, her tone cold, sharp, and final.

The woman smirked, clearly amused by Azula’s audacity, but something in Azula’s expression must have conveyed that she wasn’t in the mood for games. With a shrug, the stranger raised her hands in mock surrender and stepped away, disappearing into the crowd.

Katara stared at Azula, her confusion palpable.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Saving you from... whatever that was,” Azula said, her tone defensive.

Katara tilted her head, confused.

“Saving me? I didn’t realize I needed saving.”

Azula felt her cheeks heat, but she kept her expression composed.

“Trust me, you did.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The music continued to pulse around them, its beats vibrating through the air, and Azula became acutely aware of how close they were. The warmth of Katara’s skin under her fingertips, the faint scent of peach mixed with something earthy, lingered in the space between them, creating an almost palpable tension.

Katara’s gaze softened, her lips parting slightly as if she was about to speak—but the words never came. Instead, she just looked at Azula, her deep blue eyes locking with Azula’s amber ones. For a brief, fleeting moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist. The noise of the bar, the chatter, the music—all of it faded away.

Azula’s grip tightened ever so slightly on Katara’s arm, and her voice cut through the silence.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her tone was low, almost pleading, though the words slipped out with an edge.

Katara blinked, the intensity of Azula’s gaze lingering between them, but she said nothing, her silence leaving the air thick with unspoken tension.

Azula finally pulled her attention away and, without another word, guided Katara through the crowd. Her touch was firm but not rough as she led her through the sea of people, their bodies brushing against others, the noise of the bar growing distant. She didn’t stop until they reached her office—a modern, minimalist space with a warm ambiance. Soft LED lighting bathed the room, highlighting the lush green plants arranged around the space, adding a touch of nature to the urban surroundings. A few dragon figurines in metal were scattered across the shelves. The furniture was sleek and contemporary, with a glass desk and black leather chairs. The room smelled faintly of wood and incense, a subtle combination that created a calming atmosphere amidst the palpable tension.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Azula released her grip on Katara’s arm, but the proximity remained, the space between them charged with electricity. Azula couldn’t shake the feeling that, for a moment, the world had shifted in a way neither of them could control.

Katara looked around, still catching her breath from being practically dragged off the dance floor.

“Where… where are we?” she asked, her voice laced with both confusion and a hint of amusement.

“In my office,” Azula replied curtly, leaning against the desk with her arms crossed.

Katara blinked at her, stunned.

“You took me to your office?”

“Yeah, and?” Azula said, tilting her head in that sharp, defiant way she always did when someone questioned her.

Katara opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly at a loss for words. After a moment, she gestured vaguely around the room.

“I just… I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“Good,” Azula said with a dry smirk. “That makes two of us.”

Katara huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the door.

“Where’s your friend Suki, anyway?” Azula asked, though her tone made it sound more like an accusation than a casual question.

Katara shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I think she started flirting with a woman.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed, and her smirk turned razor-sharp.

“So, that’s what you do? You go to queer parties with your friend, then she leaves you, and you end up dancing with random women?” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “That’s so very straight of you.”

Katara frowned, the faintest hint of color rising to her cheeks.

“Azula, I don’t understand why you’re mad right now.”

“I’m not mad,” she snapped, though her voice betrayed her. She whirled around to face Katara, her amber eye blazing. “I just think it’s funny.”

Katara blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Azula took a step closer, her gaze unwavering.

“It means that you show up here, at my bar, wearing that dress, looking like that—” Azula waved a frustrated hand toward Katara, her voice sharp. “—while I thought you’d prefer to spend the evening with your lovely boyfriend,” she retorted coolly, her words laced with sarcasm.

Katara’s gaze faltered for a brief moment before she collected herself.

“What I do in my evening is my business,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed, the weight of her words lingering in the air. There was something heavy in Katara’s tone, something she couldn’t quite place. It unsettled her, though she refused to show it. Instead, she held her ground, her posture as rigid as ever. The tension between them was thick, and neither one of them knew exactly how to break it.

Azula straightened, pulling away from the edge of her desk, her movements fluid and deliberate. She began closing the distance between them, her gaze locked onto Katara like a predator sizing up its prey.

Katara instinctively stepped back, her breath quickening as Azula’s presence pressed in on her. She didn’t stop retreating until her back bumped against the door, the cool surface jolting her slightly.

Azula paused just close enough that the air between them felt charged, the tension palpable. Her voice dropped to something quieter, more dangerous, a low murmur that sent a ripple of discomfort through the space.

“I’m saying,” she whispered, her head tilting slightly, her smirk turning sharper, more predatory, “that you’re annoying me.”

Katara’s eyes flashed with irritation, her jaw tightening as she fired back.

“Yeah, I don’t remember doing anything to annoy you. You’re the one who’s always getting under my skin!”

Azula arched an eyebrow, the amusement in her expression clear.

“How? How am I annoying perfect Katara?”

Azula watched as Katara opened her mouth to argue, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat, as if they couldn’t quite find their way out. Azula’s gaze flicked down to Katara’s lips, lingering there just long enough for her to notice. The sudden shift in the air was palpable, thickening around them as a strange, unspoken tension stretched between them, pulling them closer, even though neither of them moved.

Azula could feel Katara’s breath hitch, the shallow rise and fall of her chest betraying the sudden rush of emotion—of something unspoken—coursing through her. Azula’s stare held her, heavy and intense, like a gravitational pull. And for a split second, everything else disappeared.

It was just them.

Azula didn’t break the gaze. In that strange, almost unnerving stillness, she could feel the weight of their proximity, the magnetic pull between them, and for a moment, she wondered if Katara felt it too—or if it was just her, getting lost in the chaos of emotions she wasn’t quite ready to confront.

“Azula, don’t,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Azula’s eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of defiance and curiosity.

“Don’t what?” she asked.

Katara looked away for a moment, clearly grappling with her emotions, and when her eyes met Azula’s again, they were filled with confusion and vulnerability.

“Don’t make me say it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, Azula’s sharpness faltered. Her amber eyes shifted from Katara’s lips to her eyes, searching for something—an answer, a sign, anything. She was so close now, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Katara’s skin, close enough to hear the faint hitch in her breath. Yet, at the same time, Katara felt miles away, just out of reach.

The tension stretched taut between them, a moment poised on the edge of something irreversible.

Then, the spell shattered.

A knock at the door echoed through the small office, sharp and jarring. Azula pulled back, her expression hardening into its usual unreadable mask as she straightened.

Katara let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as the world around them came rushing back.

Azula turned toward the door, her jaw tightening as she tried to collect herself. Whoever had the nerve to interrupt at this moment was about to regret it. She reached for the handle, hesitated, then looked over her shoulder at Katara.

Katara stood frozen against the door, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to hold something together, something that might break if she moved too quickly. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as though she was about to say something, but no words came.

Azula’s chest tightened at the sight. She wanted to say something—anything—to cut through the suffocating silence between them. But what could she say that wouldn’t make things worse?

Another knock, more insistent this time, broke her train of thought. With a frustrated sigh, Azula yanked the door open, revealing Ty Lee on the other side.

“Azula!” Ty Lee chirped, her usual bubbly self, though her bright smile faltered slightly when she saw the tension in Azula’s expression. “Uh… sorry to bother you, but we’re out of grenadine at the bar, and you’re the only one who knows where the backup bottles are.”

Azula stared at her for a moment, her hand still gripping the door handle.

“Grenadine,” she repeated.

“Yeah,” Ty Lee said, her gaze darting between Azula and Katara, clearly sensing the charged atmosphere. “But if this is a bad time—”

“It’s fine,” Azula snapped, cutting her off.

Ty Lee leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.

“Okay, but… is everything okay? You look…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“I said I’m fine,” Azula said sharply, her tone daring Ty Lee to press further.“Got it. Grenadine. I’ll figure it out.”

Ty Lee looked at her a moment before She spun on her heel and hurried back toward the bar, leaving Azula alone in the hallway.

Azula lingered outside the office door for a moment, her hand resting on the wood as if she might push it open again. But then she clenched her jaw and stepped back, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

The knock had been a reprieve, a reminder of reality, but it hadn’t erased what had just happened.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the door. Her thoughts were a mess—tangled threads of guilt, confusion, and something else she wasn’t ready to name.

And yet, beneath it all, one thought burned bright and unrelenting: She didn’t want Katara to walk away.

Azula took a long, deep, breath and entered inside her office again, where Katara was waiting for her.

“I… I think I might go home,” Katara said quietly.

Azula simply nodded, her gaze lingering on Katara as she pulled out her phone, her fingers swiping nervously across the screen.

“Oh, fuck,” Katara muttered under her breath, her face falling as she stared at the screen.

Azula raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Katara quickly said, her tone too hurried. But Azula wasn’t buying it.

“What is it, Katara?” Azula pressed, crossing her arms and stepping into her space just enough to make it clear that she wasn’t letting this go.

Katara hesitated, biting her lip.

“It’s Suki,” she said after a pause, her eyes flicking away from Azula’s. “She… left with the girl she was flirting with.”

Azula’s lips twisted into something almost resembling a sneer.

“And you call that a friend?” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to Katara.

Katara flinched, the words stinging more than she wanted to admit. But before she could respond, Azula was already moving, her voice soft but firm.

“I’m taking you home.”

“What?” Katara blinked in surprise, taking a small step back.

“No, I’ll call a cab. It’s fine.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening.

“A cab? At this hour?” She stepped closer to Katara, her tone becoming more insistent. “You’re coming with me. You’re not going out there alone.”

Katara shook her head, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Don’t you have to go find grenadine or something?” she asked, attempting to deflect, her voice sounding a little too defensive.

Azula’s lips twitched into a small, almost amused smile.

“Grenadine can wait. You, on the other hand, can’t.”

She wasn’t asking anymore. She was telling Katara, and that was the end of it.

Azula quickly pointed to where Ty Lee could find the grenadine, her voice short, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. Ty Lee gave her a look, raising an eyebrow, but Azula didn’t wait for her to say anything else. With a curt nod, Azula turned to leave, Katara following behind her.

.

.

.

The car ride was tense and quiet. Azula’s expansive vehicle cut through the night with ease, the low hum of the engine filling the otherwise still air. Neither of them spoke. Katara sat with her hands folded in her lap, her fingers tapping nervously against her dress, her eyes staring out the window. Azula’s grip on the wheel was tight, her face set in that mask of control, but her mind was miles away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Azula pulled into the parking lot outside Katara and Lu Ten's flat, the headlights illuminating the front door. She parked with practiced precision and turned off the engine. The silence between them was deafening now, both of them caught in their own thoughts.

Katara hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice barely a whisper.

“Azula, what... what happened earlier?”

Azula didn’t look at her right away, her eyes still focused on the empty road ahead.

“Nothing happened,” she replied, her voice firm, almost too firm. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as Katara.

Katara glanced at her, confusion and something else swirling in her chest.

“But…” she started, her voice trailing off as if she didn’t know how to put into words what she was feeling. “I don’t understand. You just…”

Azula finally turned to look at her, her gaze sharp but unreadable.

“I just what?”

Katara opened her mouth to say something, but something in Azula's tone stopped her. Instead, she sighed softly, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay, nothing happened," she whispered, as if accepting whatever unsaid things lingered between them.

Azula stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching, before she finally spoke again, quieter this time.

“Just go home, don’t make your boyfriend waiting too long.”

Katara shook her head, her hand already reaching for the door handle.

“Goodnight, Azula.”

As Katara stepped out of the car, Azula watched her walk toward the building, her figure disappearing into the shadows. The weight of the night pressed down on her, and for the first time in a long while, Azula felt the sting of something she couldn’t quite place. She stayed there for a while, staring at the empty space where Katara had been, wondering if things might have turned out differently... if she had made a different choice.

But the moment passed. And just like that, Azula drove off into the night, the road ahead uncertain, but at least she was moving forward.

.

.

.

Azula stepped into her flat, the weight of the evening pressing down on her shoulders like a physical burden. The moment she crossed the threshold, her mind spiraled with frustration, thoughts of Katara swirling around her. But when she saw Mai sitting up in bed, glasses perched on her nose, and her laptop open in front of her, something in Azula's chest twisted.

Mai wasn’t asleep.

She was always working—always the relentless workaholic.

Azula felt a sharp irritation flare up. What was it about her tonight? The bar, Katara, everything... She could feel her patience thinning, her focus splintering, but she didn’t know how to release it, didn’t know where to turn.

"What are you still awake at this hour?" she asked.

Mai looked up from her screen with a slight frown.

"I couldn’t sleep."

Azula's brow furrowed, a small, frustrated sigh escaping her lips. For once, Mai's insomnia was useful. It was exactly what she needed. She climbed onto the bed with a certain urgency, pulling Mai’s computer from her lap and setting it aside, then gently removing her glasses, a quiet but firm motion that felt almost... possessive.

"Azula..." Mai’s voice was calm, warning her as her gaze shifted to meet Azula’s.

"I want you," Azula whispered, her face hovering close enough that she could feel the heat of Mai's breath. "Is that okay?"

Mai smiled—small, knowing, as if she understood exactly what Azula meant.

"It's more than okay."

Azula’s lips crashed onto Mai’s, and suddenly, the kiss became more than just physical. It was a release—desperate, hungry. She had no idea where it came from, only that it surged up inside her like a force she couldn’t control. But even as her lips moved over Mai’s, a part of her mind was still caught on Katara. That damn peach scent, the feeling of her skin beneath her fingers, her fucking deep blue eyes.

Mai gasped softly against her lips, and the sound drove Azula wild.

“Wow, did I miss you that much?” Mai teased, her voice light and unaware of the storm roiling under Azula's skin.

Azula pulled back for a fraction of a second, her heart pounding, before brushing it off, forcing herself to focus. She stared into Mai's eyes, her gaze unreadable. The tension between them had shifted, but Azula could still feel the unrelenting pull of something else—something she wasn’t ready to confront.

“You have no idea,” Azula murmured, lying. Her voice was steady, but the rest of her was on fire, heart racing faster than it should.

Mai smiled softly, oblivious to the crackling frustration that still simmered beneath Azula’s surface. Mai wrapped her arms around Azula’s neck, pulling her closer.

Azula kissed her like she was desperate to feel something, like her very existence was tied to this moment. Her lips traveled down to Mai's neck, and her teeth found the delicate skin there.

"Azula!"

Startled, Azula immediately pulled away, her heart racing as she looked at Mai. The shock in Mai’s eyes was evident.

"You bit me," Mai said, her voice a mix of surprise and disbelief. "You never bite me."

Azula blinked, realization washing over her.

"Sorry, I... I didn’t mean to..."

"It's okay," Mai reassured her, gently cupping Azula’s face with her soft hands. "Just no teeth, alright? And no marks, I have a big meeting tomorrow."

Azula let out a soft sigh of relief, her lips curling into a small, apologetic smile.

"No more teeth, no marks, I promise."

Mai's smile met hers, and for a fleeting moment, Azula focused solely on her. On the woman who had always been her calm, her balance, the love of her life. The one who made everything feel so effortless and right.

But Azula couldn’t let it go. Her thoughts kept flickering to Katara—the way her skin had felt under her hand, the way her breath had quickened when she had come closer.

But Azula buried it down, deep where it couldn’t touch her. She would focus on Mai, on the warmth of her body, the familiarity of her touch, even if her heart wasn’t in it completely.

Even if the storm inside her wouldn’t stop.

Chapter Text

Azula sat on the terrace of her brother Zuko’s apartment, a cigarette dangling from her fingers as the warm summer night wrapped around them. The end of June had brought with it a humid heat, the city's lights flickering in the distance. She wore an oversized black t-shirt and baggy sports shorts, a chain glinting around her neck, gold rings sparkling on her fingers. She was perched on the edge of a large corner sofa, its white cushions contrasting with the dimly lit space around her. A string of lights twinkled softly above, draped lazily across the wall behind the couch, casting a gentle glow over the scene.

The air was thick with the scent of warm wood from the wooden dining table nearby, its surface gleaming faintly in the ambient light. The table was neatly set with a small vase holding fresh tulips, their bright petals a stark contrast against the rustic table. Cacti stood proudly at the corners of the terrace, their spiny silhouettes softened by the low light. One of the cacti, placed near the far corner, had been a gift from Azula herself, a rare gesture that she had made with the quiet pride that only she could carry.

Azula took another drag from her cigarette when the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of the night.

“Can you get that?” Zuko called from the kitchen.

“Busy,” Azula replied, the cigarette bobbing between her lips.

Zuko muttered something under his breath before heading to the door. It creaked open, and Mai stepped in, effortlessly chic in a sleek suit, still fresh from work. She held a bottle of wine, her usual indifference softened by a faint, genuine smile.

“Mai! You actually came!” Zuko said, his voice warm with surprise.

“Well, I can make an effort,” Mai replied dryly, handing him the wine. “For you.”

Zuko chuckled.

“Agni, I feel honored.” He closed the door behind her.

Azula watched as Mai walked toward the terrace, her heels clicking softly on the floor. Without a word, Mai leaned in and kissed Azula’s lips. Azula smirked, reaching into her pocket for a lighter.

“Tough day?” she asked, lighting Mai’s cigarette.

Mai shrugged, her gaze briefly flicking toward Zuko in the kitchen.

“As always. My client gave me a headache.”

Azula exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Sounds like fun.”

Zuko stepped out onto the terrace, a cold cherry beer in hand.

“Thought you two could use this,” he said, offering them the bottles.

Azula took hers without a word, cracking it open and taking a long sip. Mai just nodded her thanks. Zuko leaned against the railing, his gaze drifting over the city skyline before settling on Azula.

"Got a smoke?"

Azula twirled her cigarette between her fingers, tilting her head as if considering his request. Then she sighed dramatically and shook her head.

"Sorry, Zuzu. I quit."

Zuko stared at her, unimpressed.

"You're literally smoking right now."

She took a slow drag, exhaling lazily into the warm night air. "Tough break."

Mai, lounging against the couch, let out a low chuckle.

"Don’t be cruel," she murmured, eyes glinting with amusement.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bother?"

Azula smirked, finally fishing a cigarette from her pocket and tossing it to him.

"Here, princess. Wouldn’t want you to suffer."

Zuko caught it with a muttered grumble, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

A car screeched to a halt outside the building, and moments later, Jet arrived, carrying several pizza boxes. Zuko raised an eyebrow.

“Two extra? Seriously?”

Jet flashed a knowing grin.

“I invited Katara and Lu Ten.”

Azula’s heart skipped a beat. It had been a week since she’d seen Katara—since that night at the bar when she’d almost…

She squinted, trying to mask her discomfort.

Her gaze flickered toward Mai, who whispered with a grin, “I’m finally going to meet the boring Katara, huh?”

Azula fought to keep her face neutral as she took another swig of beer. The cigarette burned between her fingers, her breath shallow as she tried to act unfazed. Her fingers tightened around the bottle as she forced her gaze away from Mai’s eyes.

The doorbell rang, its sharp chime slicing through the quiet hum of the terrace. A beat later, the door swung open, and Lu Ten strode in like he owned the place.

Dressed to impress, as always, he wore a navy suit tailored so perfectly it moved with him like a second skin. The crisp fabric caught just enough light to hint at its expensive weave, and despite the late hour, a pair of sunglasses perched atop his head, pushing back his tousled dark hair. In one hand, he clutched a bottle of champagne, the foil already half-torn as if he’d debated popping it open on the way over. His grin was wide, effortlessly charming—the kind of expression that meant he was about to take over the room.

"Alright, you're not gonna believe this," he announced, stepping inside and making a beeline for the terrace, his voice rich with amusement. "So I’m at this charity gala earlier tonight, minding my own business, looking devastatingly handsome, obviously—"

"Obviously," Zuko deadpanned, already rubbing his temple.

Lu Ten ignored him, waving the champagne bottle as he continued. "Anyway, some big-shot CEO—billionaire type, thinks he runs the world—starts bragging about his vintage wine collection. He’s got the whole room wrapped around his finger, talking about how rare his bottles are, how nobody else could possibly understand their value. So, naturally, I say—‘Oh yeah? I bet you a bottle of Dom Pérignon I can guess your most expensive one just by looking at it.’"

Azula, leaning back on the couch, took a slow drag from her cigarette. "Please tell me you didn’t."

Lu Ten smirked. "Oh, I did. So he brings out this ancient Bordeaux, some ridiculous vintage from the 1800s, all proud of himself. I take one look at it and go, ‘Ah, the 1869 Château Lafite. A fine choice, though personally, I prefer the 1870—it had a stronger harvest that year.’" He paused for effect, eyes glinting. "The guy goes pale. Because—get this—I was right. Exactly right."

Jet let out a low whistle. "Damn. Lucky guess?"

Lu Ten scoffed. "Lucky? Please. I read a wine magazine on the way to the gala. I had a hunch. Anyway, he was so stunned he actually gave me the Dom Pérignon on the spot. And now, my dear cousins and friends—" He flourished the champagne bottle with a dramatic bow. "You get to reap the rewards of my brilliance."

Mai, watching from her spot on the couch, raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that whole story just proves you’re full of shit, right?"

Lu Ten gasped in mock offense. "Mai, my dear, you wound me."

Azula exhaled a stream of smoke, shaking her head. "You’re an idiot."

"And yet," Lu Ten countered smoothly, popping the bottle open with a practiced twist, "I’m an idiot with champagne."

Jet leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, watching Lu Ten pour the champagne into the nearest empty glass like he was some kind of nobleman. He smirked.

"Alright, wine connoisseur, but where’s Katara?"

Lu Ten glanced up, unfazed, and handed Jet a glass before grabbing one for himself.

"She’s coming," he said, taking a casual sip. "She was just finishing up a call with her family."

At the mention of Katara, Azula forced herself to take another slow drag from her cigarette, pretending the information was of no consequence. She kept her expression neutral, but the way her fingers tightened slightly around the bottle of beer in her other hand didn’t go unnoticed by Mai, who shot her a knowing smirk.

Jet flopped onto the couch, taking a long drink of champagne before raising an eyebrow. "Everything good with them?"

Lu Ten shrugged. "Seemed fine. You know how she is—always making sure everyone’s taken care of. She said she wouldn’t be long."

Azula exhaled, smoke curling lazily into the warm night air. The anticipation settled over her like a weighted blanket. It had been a week. A whole week since that night at the bar, since she’d almost...

She pushed the thought aside and took another drink. It didn’t matter. Not at all.The doorbell rang again, cutting through the thick summer air.

Jet was already on his feet, moving toward the door with an easy swagger. “That’ll be her,” he said, tossing a smirk over his shoulder before pulling it open.

“Katara! Finally,” he greeted, stepping aside with a dramatic flourish. “Thought Lu Ten made you run off with some billionaire wine collector.”

Katara laughed, the sound warm and effortless as she stepped inside. “Tempting, but no.”

Azula kept her gaze firmly on her beer, but it didn’t stop her from catching a glimpse—just a split second—of long, toned legs framed perfectly by denim shorts.

Her fingers tightened around the bottle.

Shit.

Katara stepped out onto the terrace, her blouse light and breezy, the three silver necklaces glinting around her neck. Azula’s gaze wandered down her neck, across her shoulders, and inevitably, down.

The legs.

Fucking shit .

Azula took another drag from her cigarette, trying to steady the flutter in her chest. Her mind was racing, thoughts tangled around Katara’s smooth, perfect legs.

Focus. This isn't the time or place.

But it was so hard to ignore the way Katara moved, the soft confidence in her every step. Azula’s gaze followed her unconsciously, tracing the shape of her legs as they led her across the terrace.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Mai sat beside Azula, her usual composure unwavering. Her girlfriend of twelve years, for crying out loud, wore a calm, cool smile as Lu Ten introduced Katara.

"My love," he said to Katara with a flourish, "this is Mai, Azula’s girlfriend, who you’ll never see at any family dinner."

Mai scoffed lightly. "Lu Ten."

"What?" he shrugged, casually putting a cigar between his lips. "It’s true. You hate us."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Not all of you. I actually like Azula."

Azula’s lips curved into a soft smile in Mai’s direction, though she quickly turned her attention elsewhere, trying her best to avoid Katara’s penetrating blue gaze. Did she ever mention how much she absolutely despised the color blue?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mai,” Katara said with that gentle smile of hers, her tone calm and polite.

Mai's response was cool but warm enough to make Katara feel welcomed.

“Nice to meet you too,” she said simply, her eyes never lingering longer than necessary.

Azula dragged her cigarette between her fingers. The moment felt like it was stretching, her stomach a knot of nerves she couldn’t unravel. Don’t look, she told herself. But her eyes slid back to Katara's legs, those denim shorts—damn it, stop. Her breath hitched for a second, but she kept her face impassive, not daring to let any of it show.

Lu Ten slid onto the couch beside Azula, draping an arm casually around her shoulders. His grin was mischievous, his usual cocky confidence radiating from him.

"You should smoke something stronger, cousin," he teased, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Like a real man." He pulled a cigar from the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit.

Azula’s chest tightened with a flicker of irritation, but she swiftly quashed it, her calm exterior intact. She took a long, deliberate sip of her beer, the cold liquid slicing through the oppressive heat.

"I’m not interested in being like a man, Lu Ten," she replied, her tone smooth and controlled, even though her insides were anything but.

Lu Ten chuckled, clearly reveling in the playful banter.

“I bet you could handle it,” he prodded, his eyes sparkling with that signature self-assurance of his.

Azula shot him a sideways glance, her lips curling slightly in a barely concealed smirk.

“Not everything’s about proving something, you know,” she muttered, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

Lu Ten waved off her comment with a dismissive gesture before turning to Katara, who was still standing by the door.

“Come on, love, sit,” he called to her, as though she were the only other person in the room.

Azula’s gaze flickered to Katara for the first time since she’d arrived, and for a moment, her heart skipped a beat. She quickly averted her eyes, taking a long, slow drag from her cigarette to distract herself.

“There’s no place,” Katara said, her voice polite but firm.

Lu Ten clapped his hands together, his grin widening.

"Come on, baby, there’s always room on my lap."

Azula's fingers tightened around her beer bottle, her jaw tightening. She fought the urge to murder him right then and there.

“I... I’m fine,” Katara responded, a soft laugh in her voice.

Lu Ten, unfazed, took a slow drag from his cigar before making a show of leaning in toward Azula, whispering in her ear with a smirk.

"But the shy ones," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "are always the best in bed."

Azula froze, her body tense with fury.

Okay, now she was definitely going to murder him.

“Ew,” she breathed, barely able to contain her disgust.

Lu Ten laughed loudly, clearly amused by his own wit. He stood abruptly, reaching out to catch Katara by the waist and muttering some more ridiculous line as he pulled her toward him. Azula clenched her fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to throw something at him.

Mai leaned in, just enough for Azula to feel the heat of her breath against her ear. Her voice was a murmur, just above a whisper.

“You’re right she sounds so annoying,” she said.

Azula stiffened for a moment, then exhaled slowly, taking another drag from her cigarette.

“Told you,” she said, her tone light, but a little too sharp.

Mai raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more, content to let the moment pass. Her gaze flickered briefly to Katara.

Katara was now standing with Zuko and Jet, laughing at something Jet had just said, her eyes shining with amusement. Azula felt her pulse quicken as her gaze slipped back to her, lingering once more—this time, not on her legs, but on her necklace, the three silver pendants that caught the light with every movement of Katara. It was stupid, but Azula couldn’t help herself.

What bothered her even more, though, was the way Lu Ten had his hand firmly planted on Katara’s hip, as if she were his. It was a possessive gesture, too intimate, and it made Azula's irritation flare with each passing second. The way he touched her, like he had a right to claim every part of her, made Azula’s blood boil. It was infuriating.

“Alright, guys, I’m starving,” Zuko said suddenly, a playful glint in his eye as he looked over at Mai and Azula. “Let’s eat before I end up finishing it all myself.”

Jet’s grin stretched wide. “Please, baby, do that, and I’ll kill you.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You won’t kill me,” he said with a mock challenge as he moved toward the table.

Azula, despite the tightening knot of tension in her chest, couldn't help but smirk at her brother’s usual antics. She grabbed another beer, trying to push down the unease gnawing at her.

“Coming!” Mai called out, her voice cool, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Lu Ten gave Katara a playful nudge before heading toward the table, his grin as wide and unshakable as ever.

“Let’s see who can eat the most slices, huh?” he teased, causing Katara to roll her eyes, though she followed him without protest.

Azula stayed back for a moment, her gaze flicking to Katara once again. She took a long, deliberate sip from her beer, steeling herself for what was coming next.

The terrace was filled with the comfortable hum of conversation as they all dug into the pizza, the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni mixing with the warm summer air. Azula was sitting next to Mai, feeling the subtle, but reassuring weight of her girlfriend's hand on her thigh. It was grounding, a silent reassurance that no matter how chaotic the evening felt, Mai was still there, always steady beside her.

Mai’s hand brushed hers under the table, a silent reminder that she was still here, still with her. Azula let out a breath, forcing herself to look back at her girlfriend, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But in that moment, she knew. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Katara, no matter how much she wanted to.

Azula tried to focus on her slice of pizza, but the presence of everyone around her—especially Katara—made it difficult to concentrate. Lu Ten, at her left, was talking loudly about some new business venture he was involved in, his animated gestures matching the enthusiasm in his voice. Azula's eyes flicked briefly to Katara, who was sitting across from her, laughing quietly at something Jet had said.

She tried to push the thoughts of Katara aside.

Focus on the pizza. Focus on anything but her.

"So, Katara," Mai asked, her voice gentle and curious. "What do you do for a living?"

Azula’s fingers tightened around her slice of pizza, trying to keep her attention on the food. She wasn’t interested. Not in Katara’s life. Not in the details of who she was. It was easier that way. But, despite herself, her ear perked up. She hadn’t expected Mai to ask. She hadn’t expected the question to stir something in her.

Katara took a moment, wiping her hands on a napkin before responding.

“I work as a nurse,” she said, her voice soft but confident, “Specializing in pediatrics.”

Azula’s eyes flickered up to her, something tightening in her chest. A nurse? She hadn't expected that. She'd thought... well, she hadn’t thought much about it at all. But now that she knew, something about it seemed to fit with Katara—caring, nurturing. It made Azula's mind spin just a little.

Jet, ever the loudmouth, grinned and chimed in, “A nurse, huh? That’s as cute as you are.”

He winked at Katara, his tone teasing, but there was genuine admiration in his eyes.

Lu Ten raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

"If you weren’t gay, Jet, I’d think you were flirting with my fiancée," he teased, his voice rich with mock suspicion.

Azula felt a flash of heat in her chest, her teeth sinking into her pizza a little harder than necessary. She forced herself to stay calm, to ignore the way her body tightened at the mention of Katara being engaged. Lu Ten was obviously joking, but it hit harder than Azula would’ve liked to admit.

Katara laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made Azula's stomach twist. She wasn’t even trying to be noticed, but somehow, everything she did seemed to catch Azula's attention, whether she wanted it or not.

Zuko, who had been half-listening and chewing, suddenly looked up from his plate, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“Wait… you’re engaged?” he asked, his voice genuine.

The table fell silent for a moment, everyone’s eyes flicking between Katara and Lu Ten.

Azula felt something stir within her chest, something she couldn’t quite name, but it burned, hot and insistent. Her fingers tightened around her pizza slice, but she didn’t dare break the silence.

Lu Ten, ever the one to revel in attention, broke the tension first. He flashed a cocky grin, leaning back in his chair like he owned the world.

“Yeah, I asked and she said yes,” he said, his voice full of pride, and then casually wrapped his arm around Katara’s shoulder, pulling her close to him.

Katara leaned into him, her smile soft and affectionate, her eyes warm with love. She looked at Lu Ten as if he were the only thing in the room. Azula’s heart twisted at the sight, the tightness in her chest intensifying with every passing second.

Why does it matter? Why does it bother me?

But the truth gnawed at her, relentless and undeniable. It bothered her. It bothered her a lot.

Azula’s gaze, despite her best efforts to look away, drifted back to Katara. For just a moment, their eyes met. Katara’s expression softened when their gazes locked, and Azula’s breath caught in her throat. That goddamn softness—it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

Azula didn’t want to feel this—didn’t want to feel anything—especially not this burning, ugly thing. She could feel her hands shake slightly, the heat crawling up her neck. Her teeth ground together, but she couldn’t look away. She wanted to look away, to control herself, but it felt impossible. Katara’s eyes weren’t mocking; they weren’t dismissive. They were calm, almost understanding, but that only made it worse.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to mask the surge of jealousy that surged inside her. Azula’s mind screamed, How dare she be so... so calm, so fucking perfect while Azula’s insides twisted with something primal. A sick, bitter rage pulsed under her skin. She wanted to hurt her. She wanted to destroy that smile, erase that gentle, warm look from Katara’s face.

But she couldn't. Not here. Not in front of everyone. Azula’s fingers dug into the edge of the table, trying to ground herself, trying to rein in the fire that threatened to explode inside her.

Katara smiled at Lu Ten, her hand resting gently on his, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down around Azula. The way Katara looked at him, so soft and affectionate, made something in her chest tighten uncomfortably. Azula sat there, silently fuming, her gaze narrowing as she tried desperately to choke down the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Mai’s hand on her thigh was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. The touch was warm, soft—a small comfort—but even that couldn’t calm the storm of jealousy raging within her. It was like a wildfire, uncontrollable, and no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure, the fire only grew.

Zuko, sensing the change in the air, cleared his throat, turning toward Katara and Jet with a grin.

"So, have you guys told Uncle Iroh yet?" he asked, his voice light but with an underlying curiosity. "I’m sure he’ll want to hear all about this."

Jet, who had been smirking while watching the scene unfold, shook his head.

"Nope. You guys are the first to know," he said, his grin widening.

Without missing a beat, Jet stood up from the table, his expression softening as he leaned toward Katara and Lu Ten.

“Congratulations, you two,” he said, his tone sincere. He pulled Katara into a brief, friendly hug and clapped Lu Ten on the back with a grin.

Azula forced herself to look away, focusing on her beer as she tried to ignore the tightening feeling in her chest.

"Well, when our mother finds out," Zuko said with mock seriousness, "she’ll probably want to plan the whole wedding herself. God help you, Lu Ten. You’re in for an adventure."

The laughter that followed did little to ease Azula’s frustration. She hated this feeling—this unease. She didn’t like how easy it was for Katara and Lu Ten to just… be. So comfortable, so carefree. And there she was, torn between keeping her mask intact and wanting to claw everything apart.

Mai, sensing the tension radiating off Azula, gave her a quick, knowing look. She leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper, just enough for Azula to hear.

"Aren’t they together for, like… four months or something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azula’s eyes flicked to Katara, still smiling at Lu Ten, and she couldn’t help the sharpness in her tone as she replied.

"She's probably marrying him for money," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Mai stifled a laugh, her lips curving into a discreet smile. She didn’t need to say anything more—Azula’s irritation was clear enough.

But despite herself, Azula couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing some battle she didn’t even know she was fighting.

.

.

.

Azula stood at the front door of the imposing house, her fingers drumming lightly against the handle of the popcorn bag she’d brought. She could never remember the last time she’d stepped inside this house without a twinge of coldness swirling in her chest. Kiyi had invited her for their usual afternoon movie—something simple, something that still felt like a connection, even in the midst of everything else.

The door swung open, and Kiyi greeted her with a bright grin, her energy a stark contrast to the weight Azula had carried since stepping inside. Kiyi was always so carefree, so full of life—everything Azula had once been, before everything turned cold. Her loose hair framed her face in soft waves, and in that moment, she looked so much like their mother it nearly made Azula’s stomach churn. She quickly shoved the thought aside, focusing on Kiyi’s radiant smile.

“Popcorn!” Kiyi said, her voice high and cheerful. “You’re the best.”

Azula couldn’t help but smirk.

“Of course I am.”

Kiyi laughed, waving her off before heading down the hallway.

“I’ll set up the movie. You get the popcorn ready, okay?”

Azula nodded, watching her little sister’s carefree bounce down the hall, feeling a pang of jealousy. Kiyi was still so innocent, so full of joy in the simple things. Azula envied that in ways she couldn’t express. She longed for that simplicity—those carefree moments when the world didn’t weigh heavily on her shoulders. But it was long gone, buried beneath years of expectations and the constant war within her.

She pushed open the kitchen door. There, as always, their mother was—graceful, poised, regal—standing in quiet conversation with the housekeeper. The moment Ursa saw Azula, her sharp gaze slid over her, assessing, calculating, that familiar disapproving look clouding her face.

“Azula,” Ursa’s voice was sharp, cool, like the edge of a blade. She didn’t even look up from her conversation with the housekeeper as she spoke, her eyes flicking briefly to Azula before quickly dismissing her. “You could have dressed more appropriately, don’t you think? That outfit is... boyish. You’re a woman now.”

Azula’s lips curled into a smile that was as cold and jagged as broken glass.

“Hello, Mother. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

Her response came out automatically, like the rehearsed words of a script she knew by heart. This had become their dance—her mother’s constant disapproval, and Azula’s practiced indifference. She’d long stopped trying to seek her approval; she had stopped expecting it. It didn’t matter how hard she tried, or how much she did to fit her mother’s perfect little world. It was never enough.

Azula stared down at the popcorn bag, her fingers tight around it. The simplicity of preparing the snack, the mundane task of making something so unimportant, felt oddly grounding—something that Ursa’s sharp, judgmental gaze could never provide. She would not rise to the bait. Not this time. Not today.

“Popcorn, Azula?” Ursa’s voice cut through the quiet again, sharper now, filled with contempt. “Really? We have a chef, you know. Why bring that junk here? You could have at least had him make something decent.”

Azula’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t let her face betray her. How typical, she thought, as her mother’s disapproval washed over her like a familiar, suffocating fog. It didn’t matter that the popcorn was a small comfort for her. Her mother’s standard of “decent” was a world away from what Azula needed, and it had never been more evident than now.

Azula’s jaw clenched, but she bit back the retort that burned in her throat. The microwave hummed quietly as the popcorn popped, but her mind was elsewhere, slipping between her mother’s words and the reality that gnawed at her insides. The feeling of not being good enough had become an old, familiar friend.

She didn’t look at her mother as she poured the butter onto the popcorn, her hands moving mechanically. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But even as she stayed silent, the storm inside her grew. There was so much left unsaid, too much tension hanging thick in the air.

Then, as if to add insult to injury, Ursa turned back toward her, eyes glinting with a kind of faux generosity.

“You know, Azula,” she said, her voice soft now, “there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

Azula’s stomach dropped.

“Katara and Lu Ten are engaged,” Ursa finished, her voice almost too casual.

Azula froze. The microwave beeped, but the sound felt distant, muffled. Her hands twitched, but she didn’t dare move.

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to swallow, to remain impassive. The absurdity of preparing popcorn in that moment wasn’t lost on her. What was she even doing here? Why bother?

Ursa continued talking, her voice a distant hum in Azula’s ears. She didn’t want to listen, but she couldn’t escape it. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Azula focused on the microwave, pulling the popcorn out with a sharp breath, her hands trembling just enough to remind her how fragile her control had become. Her mother’s eyes were still on her, waiting for some reaction. She wouldn’t give it to her. Not this time.

Instead, Azula turned toward the counter, continuing to sprinkle the butter with the same mechanical precision.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Katara and Lu Ten.

But it was impossible.

Ursa’s voice pierced the silence again, her words casual, unbothered.

“Did you hear me, Azula?”

Azula didn’t respond immediately, her face a mask of indifference, her heart racing beneath the calm. She straightened, trying to keep her tone level.

“Yes, Mother. I heard you.”

Ursa smiled, pleased with herself. “Well, I thought you’d be happy for them.”

Azula’s lips twisted into a tight, insincere smile. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to play the part anymore. But she was too tired to argue.

“I’m enchanted by the idea,” Azula said, her voice smooth but hollow. She knew exactly what Ursa wanted to hear. For now, it was easier to go along with it.

Ursa's smile deepened, serene as ever. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. We're planning a little celebration for them in early July. A gathering at our country estate. It'll be lovely."

Azula, unable to help herself, replied coldly, "If it's not Uncle Iroh's job to organize this, after all, he's Lu Ten's father."

Ursa rolled her eyes. "When has Iroh ever been good at organizing parties?"

Azula rolled her eyes in return, annoyed. Zuko was right—her mother had to control everything, even the smallest details.

"Don't roll your eyes at your own mother, Azula," Ursa said, her tone growing colder.

Azula, still unfazed, exaggerated the roll of her eyes even more, a spark of defiance in her gaze.

Ursa shook her head, her irritation barely concealed. She briefly exchanged words with the housekeeper, then turned her full attention back to Azula, her gaze sharp and pointed.

"I do hope you'll attend. It's important. And you'll want to make a good impression. Katara and Lu Ten will be there, and I'm sure they'll expect you to... present yourself properly."

“I’ll be there,” Azula said, her voice cold and controlled. “Don’t worry. I’ll dress appropriately.”

Ursa’s smile softened, and Azula could feel the gaze of approval in her mother’s eyes. But then, casually, she added, “I do hope Mai will be joining us as well. It would be lovely for her to meet the family.”

Azula froze.

The mention of Mai—a person her mother never fully accepted—cut deep. She hadn’t prepared for this part of the conversation. The expectation. The judgment.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t look up.

“I’ll make sure she’s there,” Azula said, her voice barely audible. “But don’t expect her to dress like some... doll.”

Ursa blinked, clearly not understanding the tension in her words, but she simply nodded, offering a pleasant smile.

“Of course, dear. She’ll look lovely, no matter what.”

Azula swallowed, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ll go get the popcorn,” she muttered, desperate to escape.

She turned away quickly, making her way back down the hallway, the weight of everything crashing in on her. How could she do this? How could she attend this gathering, smile, pretend everything was fine, when everything inside her was falling apart?

When she stepped into the living room, Kiyi was already there, waiting. The movie played quietly in the background, and Kiyi’s laughter filled the room. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she typed something on her phone, a carefree joy that Azula found impossible to fully grasp anymore.

Azula raised an eyebrow, curious but weary. “What’s so funny?”

Kiyi giggled, glancing up at her. “Katara sent me the funniest meme. You should see it!”

Azula’s stomach twisted, the mention of Katara’s name like a knife in her gut. She forced herself to smile, trying to push the rising jealousy down.

"Maybe later," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Why couldn’t she just have one afternoon? One simple, peaceful afternoon with her little sister—without that woman poisoning her thoughts, her life, and every little moment she tried to enjoy?

Azula’s eyes locked on the screen, her jaw clenching, every muscle in her body tightening.

She had never fully understood what it meant to hate until now. But she did. She fucking hated Katara.

Chapter Text

Azula's hand shook slightly as she reached for another glass behind the bar, her fingers brushing against the rim. She was trying to steady herself, but the anger—her old, familiar friend—surged again. Her grip tightened, and the glass slipped from her hand, shattering across the floor with a loud crash. The sudden sound made her flinch, and she cursed under her breath.

"Shit!"

Ty Lee, who had been wiping down the counter nearby, immediately looked up from the motion. She frowned, a concerned look on her face as she set down the cloth.

"Are you okay, Azula?" she asked, her voice light but laced with genuine worry.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine," mumbled Azula, not meeting her friend’s gaze.

It was a lie. She could feel the lie hanging in the air like a heavy cloud, suffocating her. Her eyes darted to the broken glass, and the frustration boiled inside her chest again.

I’m far from fine.

Ty Lee stood there for a moment, her expression softening as she tried to read her.

"Azula…"

"I'm fine, Ty Lee!" Azula cut her off.

Ty Lee frowned and shook her head.

"If you say so," she sighed.

Azula bit the inside of her cheek, and with a sharp exhale, she grabbed the broom.

"I'm just taking a smoke break. I'll be out in a minute," she muttered, as if it would explain everything.

"Okay, be careful with that broken glass!" Ty Lee said as she turned to handle the mess.

Azula stepped out from behind the bar, pushing through the door to the back alley. The air outside was suffocating, the heat of July lingering even in the night. She pulled out a cigarette, her fingers trembling as she lit it with a flick of her thumb. The flame flared briefly before she inhaled deeply, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the sticky air.

She hated this. She hated everything about this moment—especially what had led her to it.

Her mind replayed the argument with Mai. It had been terrible. Worse than terrible. Mai refused to come with her to Lu Ten and Katara's engagement party.

Katara.

She could feel her blood boil at the thought of that perfect, insufferable woman. Mai didn’t even want to come, and a part of Azula understood. But that was just it... Mai was her girlfriend, and Azula knew that her family was insufferable. For once, just for once, she wanted Mai to be there for her.

Supporting her.

No matter what.

But Mai’s refusal felt like a betrayal, even though she didn’t have the guts to say it aloud.

You’re overreacting, Mai had said. It’s just a party, Azula.

Azula flicked the ashes from her cigarette and glanced down at her phone, a wave of bitterness flooding over her. She opened Instagram, her fingers shaking slightly as she typed Katara’s name into the search bar. The moment the profile appeared, she couldn't help herself—she clicked.

And there it was. Katara. Perfectly poised. Perfectly beautiful. The pictures, as always, were flawless. One of her with Lu Ten, laughing together, arms around each other, looking so happy. And then another one—just Katara, standing alone, her eyes bright and full of life. Azula felt a familiar wave of suffocation wash over her, as if the perfect image of Katara was a reminder of everything she could never have.

Her stomach twisted. Every muscle in her body tensed.

She hate her.

She wanted her dead.

She muttered to herself under her breath as her phone screen flickered with more pictures of Katara and Lu Ten, laughing and holding hands. Azula wanted to scream. She wanted to smash her phone, burn it all, forget it all—but instead, she smoked another drag, letting the smoke cloud her vision for a moment. It didn’t stop the anger from crawling beneath her skin, though.

"Fucking hell," Azula whispered through clenched teeth.

With a sharp exhale, Azula crushed her cigarette angrily on the ground, the embers flaring for a second before being snuffed out. She stood there for a moment, staring at the ground, her hands balled into fists. Then, with a tense breath, she straightened up and headed back into the bar. There was work to be done, and she didn’t have the energy for anything else. Not right now. Not when everything was this messed up.

.

.

.

The luxury car stopped abruptly in front of the massive family mansion, its tires squealing slightly on the asphalt. Azula waited a few seconds, her eyes scanning the darkness of the countryside around her. The night wind blew, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t come here to enjoy the beauty of the landscape. Not tonight. She got out of the car with a smooth movement. The last possible moment to arrive. Just in time to avoid dinner, just in time to be left alone.

She lit a cigarette with an almost mechanical gesture, her hand trembling slightly, but it didn’t bother her. She took a deep drag, feeling the warmth of the smoke fill her lungs, pushing away the remaining frustration.

A final, furious puff of cigarette smoke before she crushed it into the ground with the tip of her sneakers.

She pulled her suitcase out of the trunk, opening it without a word, then dragged it across the cold cobblestone of the mansion’s courtyard. She had no desire to stay here longer than necessary – that thought lingered, heavy in her mind.

As she reached the door, a servant approached to take her suitcase without a word. He seemed accustomed to her late arrivals. She cast a cold glance at him before turning her back, walking into the entrance. The hall was quiet, the air still thick with the remnants of a forgotten dinner, but she didn’t care. She didn’t need to know where the others were. She headed straight for the terrace, her steps confident, a final puff of smoke escaping her mouth.

The voices were clear, Iroh’s calm tone standing out among the others, even in the night. When Azula turned the corner of the house, she saw her mother sitting with her uncle Iroh and cousin Lu Ten. There was also a couple Azula didn’t recognize. A man in his fifties had his hand resting on that of a woman who looked exactly like Katara, only older. As she drew nearer, Azula realized the woman was in a wheelchair, her face drawn and terribly tired, as though life had worn her down slowly.

Ursa’s eyes met hers the moment she appeared. A cold, sharp smile spread across her face.

"Azula, what a surprise," Ursa said, her voice sweet yet tinged with reproach. "You’ve arrived just in time to avoid us again, haven’t you?"

Azula clenched her teeth but stayed silent, merely pushing her hair back with an irritated gesture. The last thing she needed was to respond to her mother.

"Still, Aunt Ursa," Lu Ten joked with a bright smile, "Azula wouldn’t be Azula if she didn’t show up late, right cousin?"

Azula held back a sharp retort. She didn’t even have the chance to speak, as her Uncle Iroh, a benevolent smile on his lips, introduced her to the couple:

"Azula, this is Hakoda and Kya, Katara’s parents."

Azula straightened up slightly, a cold smile on her lips as she extended her hand to Hakoda and Kya.

"Nice to meet you," she said in a polite but distant tone, her eyes briefly glancing at Hakoda, then at Kya.

Hakoda studied her for a moment, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for something within her. Azula felt a slight shiver down her spine under his gaze, but she didn’t flinch, keeping her posture rigid and controlled. He’s already judging me, she thought with disdain.

Kya, on the other hand, gave her a bright, almost warm smile. A striking contrast to her husband’s coldness.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Azula. Lu Ten has mentioned you often," Kya said, her voice gentle and free of any judgment, unlike her husband's cold gaze.

There was something genuinely warm about her, a kindness that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the room.

Azula hesitated, her discomfort palpable as the unexpected kindness washed over her. She wasn’t used to this, not especially not from Katara's family. Her eyes flickered over to Lu Ten, who was grinning proudly.

"Do I have a fan in you, cousin?" she said, her lips curling into a smirk.

Lu Ten’s laughter rang out, light and easy, as he shook his head.

“You always know how to make an entrance, don’t you, Azula?”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in something like amusement.

“Would you expect anything less?"

He chuckled again, clearly amused by her sharp wit, and for a moment, the tension that had clung to the air seemed to soften, if only slightly.

"Enough, kids," said Uncle Iroh before turning his attention back to Hakoda and Kya. "Would you like some tea, dear?"

Azula looked away from her cousin and turned to her mother.

"Mother, are Zuko and Jet already here?" she asked.

Ursa glanced at her, a disapproving smile on her lips.

"Of course, Azula. They arrived on time. You know, it's not always necessary to keep everyone waiting." She looked down at her, her tone sharp. "They went for a romantic walk, as always, to digest."

Azula let out a sigh, briefly closing her eyes as if trying to ignore the remark.

"And Kiyi?"

"In her room, playing whatever video games teenagers are playing," Ursa said, judgment clear in her voice.

Then, Ursa, too, turned away, her attention fully absorbed in her conversation with Hakoda and Kya, as if Azula had never been there at all.

For a fleeting moment, Azula’s gaze met Kya’s. The woman smiled at her—warm, welcoming.

Azula quickly looked away, a sharp discomfort twisting in her chest. The kindness in Kya’s eyes was almost unbearable.

She pressed her lips together, willing herself to remain composed. When she finally spoke, her voice was smooth, controlled—flawlessly detached.

“Excuse me. I will retire to my room.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her posture impeccable, her steps measured. Not a single waver. Not a single crack.

But deep inside, something small and fragile curled in on itself.

.

.

.

Azula stood at the door, her small fingers clutching the handle of a worn suitcase, the other hand gripping the soft dragon plushie her father had given her just a few days before. It was the last thing he’d ever given her. The plushie felt strangely heavy in her hands, like a final reminder of everything that had been ripped away.

Her mother stood a few feet away, as elegant and poised as ever. Tall, impossibly beautiful, and somehow untouchable. She had always seemed that way to Azula, like someone who existed on a different plane—too perfect, too distant. Her mother’s eyes were bright, but there was something colder about her now.

"Here we are," Ursa said, her voice soft, distant, as she gestured toward the room.

Azula looked up at her mother, but the words felt stuck in her throat. The room was vast and empty, a sterile place with no warmth. She didn't care about the room. She didn't care about anything anymore, not with the space growing heavier with every passing moment. She could still feel the cold in her father's absence, the echo of his voice, even though he was never coming back.

Before she could even take another step, she heard a voice behind her.

"You’re going to live here now," Zuko said. He was standing in the doorway, his posture stiff, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. He looked… confused.

Azula didn't say anything at first, just staring at the floor, her dragon plushie clutched tightly to her chest. The silence stretched on too long, so long it became unbearable.

Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, the first tear slid down her cheek. Then another. And another. She could feel her face scrunching up in a way that made her feel smaller, weaker.

Zuko was quiet for a long time, standing there, watching her, until he finally asked, "Why are you crying?"

Azula’s lip quivered as she glanced up at him, tears blurring her vision.

"Daddy’s dead," she whispered. "I want him back."

Zuko blinked, his confusion deepening.

"But... he wasn’t even a good person, Azula. You know that."

Azula’s small hands tightened around the plushie, and she shook her head, a soft sob escaping her lips.

"Why do you think that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He was nice to me."

"No, Azula," Zuko replied, his tone firm. "Dad was a bad person. He was selfish and only loved himself."

Azula stayed silent, letting the tears flow freely, feeling the weight of loneliness and confusion pressing down on her chest. She didn't understand it either—the way her father was painted as a villain in the stories her mother and brother told, even though he was the only one who wanted to be there for her, the only one who had ever seemed to care about her in a way that didn’t feel calculated.

But she didn't have the words to explain that. Not to Zuko. Not to anyone.

Instead, she turned away, stepping into the room her mother had prepared for her, and closed the door quietly behind her. The plush dragon still clutched tightly in her hand.

.

.

.

Tomorrow, Katara and Lu Ten’s engagement party would take place, and Azula had no intention of lingering. She would be there, of course, but she would leave as soon as possible, like a shadow slipping through a room she had no intention of filling.

She turned on her heels and walked away, heading inside the manor. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the silence of the house, and each floor, each hallway seemed to take her further away from what she dreaded. Tomorrow, all of this would be over.

Azula slipped silently into the manor, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as she ascended the stairs toward her bedroom. It was the largest one, the one overlooking the gardens—just like always. Always the same room, she thought with silent disdain. She had never liked this place. Too spacious, too big, too… useless. She much preferred the idea of being alone in a smaller space, somewhere she wouldn’t have to endure the heavy silences of this familiar yet oppressive manor.

She reached the door, and for the first time that evening, a faint shiver of irritation ran through her. She turned the handle, but something felt off. She had expected to see her suitcase there, on the bed, ready to be unpacked. But… nothing. No suitcase. No belongings. That was strange. She frowned, a slight unease settling in her chest.

What the…?

She had barely turned around, barely begun to take in the room, when a dull thud shattered the silence behind her.

The bathroom door swung open.

And there, standing in the doorway, was something Azula never expected.

Katara. Completely naked.

Azula froze. Every muscle in her body locked, her breath caught in her throat. Katara, mid-step out of the bathroom, hadn’t noticed her at first. But the moment their eyes met, realization struck.

A scream tore from Katara’s lips, sharp and panicked, reverberating through the walls as she recoiled, scrambling to cover herself.

“Tui and La, what are you doing here?!” she shouted, voice edged with pure alarm.

Azula couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Her mind spun, disoriented, crashing into a mess of thought and sensation.

No. No. No.

Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn away, to erase this moment from existence. But it was already too late.

The image of Katara—exposed, vulnerable—was seared into her mind.

The delicate curves of her body. The smoothness of her skin. The way she moved, unguarded, before she had realized she was being watched.

It struck Azula like a bolt of lightning, visceral and inescapable.

Azula felt it rise within her—slow, insidious, impossible to contain. A fury so sharp it made her fingers twitch, her breath hitch. It coiled around her ribs like a vice, suffocating, unbearable.

Why does this make me so angry?!

Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together as she cursed the unwanted pull in her chest—the inexplicable, infuriating attraction that made her blood run hot. She hated it. Hated her.

Katara. Standing there. So effortlessly perfect.

Azula shook her head, as if the motion alone could purge the image from her mind. The sight of Katara, flushed and breathless, was carved too deep.

And then, with a voice like ice cracking, she snapped—sharp, merciless.

“What the hell are you doing here, Katara? This is my room!”

Katara, now hastily wrapped in a robe—one she must have thrown on in sheer panic—met her gaze with wide, uncertain eyes. There was embarrassment there, but also something else. Something quieter.

Confusion.

“We were given this room since it’s the biggest one,” Katara answered, her voice steady but cautious, as if sensing the storm brewing beneath Azula’s skin.

Azula’s fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt. The sting grounded her, but not enough.

Enough. She had had enough.

There was already too much. Too many emotions she didn’t understand. Too many moments where Katara got in her way, chipped at the walls she had so carefully built. And now this? Now she had to take her room, too?

The hatred surged like wildfire, scorching through her veins, leaving nothing but rage in its wake.

She hated her.

So much.

Too much.

“You… you dare—” Azula’s voice caught, strangled by fury, by the sheer force of what she felt but couldn’t name. Words failed her. Thoughts blurred. Every rational part of her was slipping, burning away under the weight of Katara’s presence.

Just standing here, looking at her, made her want to scream. To break something. To break her.

Instead, she could only glare, her golden eyes alight with raw, unfiltered loathing. Katara, for her part, remained still—watching, unreadable, unnervingly calm. She didn’t even look away.

Azula hated that, too.

She hated everything about her. The way she existed in her space. The way she occupied her mind, uninvited, unwanted.

She’s ruining my life.

She’s everywhere.

Every.

Fucking.

Second.

Azula stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each movement carrying the weight of something dark, something dangerous. A smirk—cold, sharp as a blade—curled at the corners of her lips, her gaze locking onto Katara’s with an intensity that cut like ice.

She could feel it now, boiling over, that venomous, searing hatred that had been clawing at her ribs, burning its way through her veins.

And she was done holding it in.

“You know what, Katara?” Azula spat, her voice a low, lethal whisper. “Fuck you.”

Katara’s eyes widened, shock flashing across her face.

“Excuse me?!” she demanded, scandalized.

Azula let out a bitter laugh, devoid of humor. “Oh, you heard me just fine.” Her voice sharpened, turning jagged, raw.

“Fuck. You. And your perfect little life—so goddamn flawless it makes me want to destroy everything in my path.”

She took another step, close enough now that her breath ghosted against Katara’s skin, close enough to see the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

Katara flinched back, just slightly. But her gaze—defiant, questioning—never wavered.

“You’re insane,” she breathed, disbelief laced with something else.

Azula exhaled sharply, a mirthless chuckle slipping past her lips.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Because of you.”

Katara’s brow furrowed, frustration flickering behind the blue of her eyes.

“Why… why do you hate me so much?” she demanded, her voice steady but edged with uncertainty.

She meant it.

She genuinely, truly wanted to know.

And that?

That infuriated Azula most of all.

Azula stood frozen, just inches away from Katara, her breath shallow, uneven. The world had shrunk to this moment—to the impossible space between them, to the deep blue of Katara’s eyes pulling her in like an undertow.

Katara looked so… perfect. Her lips slightly parted, her skin luminous in the dim light, her every feature soft and effortlessly beautiful. And Azula hated it.

Hated how it unsettled her.

Hated how it made something restless and unspoken coil in her chest.

Her fingers moved before she could stop them, lifting of their own accord, brushing a stray curl behind Katara’s ear. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but Katara shivered. Azula felt it. Saw the slight hitch in her breath.

She should have pulled away. Should have laughed it off, twisted it into something cruel, something sharp.

But she didn’t.

She leaned in instead, close enough to hear the rhythmic rise and fall of Katara’s breathing, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. And suddenly, it was too much.

Too much awareness. Too much of her.

Azula clenched her jaw, forcing herself to wrench away—mentally, physically, any way she could. But it was like something was dragging her back, an invisible pull she refused to name.

Her voice came out in a whisper, raw and trembling with something she refused to acknowledge.

“I hate you, Katara.”

Katara’s brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in her gaze.

Azula exhaled sharply, shoving past the moment, grasping for anger like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Because you act like you own this family.”

Katara blinked. “I… what?”

“You barely know Lu Ten,” Azula sneered, forcing steel into her voice. “Everyone here knows you’re marrying him for money.”

She saw it—the way Katara’s jaw clenched, the way her eyes darkened with something fierce, something dangerously close to real anger. And Azula—gods help her—liked it.

So she pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

“ Seriously, you're just a beautiful face, that's all. I hope you have a miserable marriage,” Azula spat, her words like embers catching fire. “I hope he leaves you. I hope you end up alone and wretched for the rest of your life.” She paused, each syllable a carefully aimed dagger. 

Katara’s expression shifted, something unreadable flashing across her face. And then, without warning, she cut through the tension with a single question.

“Why?” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. A quiet sort of defiance. “You want me all alone for yourself?”

Azula’s breath caught.

The room felt suddenly too small, the air too thick.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

“What did you just say?” she demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Katara studied her now, her gaze searching, questioning, knowing.

“I don’t understand you,” she murmured, the words slow, deliberate. “You try so hard to convince me you hate me, but…” She hesitated, something vulnerable creeping into her expression. “But… you’re looking at me like…”

Her breath hitched, and for a split second, neither of them moved.

Then, soft. Quiet. Almost like a confession.

“Like you want to kiss me.”

A cruel laugh slipped from Azula’s lips, cold and devoid of warmth. She took a step back, shaking her head in mockery.

“Ridiculous,” she murmured, her gaze still locked on Katara, hard and scornful. “You’re imagining things. I don’t make a habit of turning straight girls into lesbians, Katara. And you… you are the last girl I would ever want.”

Azula stepped in, slow and deliberate, until their bodies were almost flush against each other. The heat rolling off Katara’s skin was unbearable, searing into her own like a brand. She shouldn’t be this close. She shouldn’t want to be this close.

But she didn’t move away.

Instead, she let herself drown in the scent of Katara’s skin, damp and warm from the bath, something sweet lingering beneath the steam. Her breath hitched, and she hated herself for it.

Her hand found Katara’s wrist, fingers curling tight—too tight. She felt the shudder in Katara’s pulse, fast and unsteady against her palm.

“But you know what?” Azula murmured, leaning in, her lips grazing the shell of Katara’s ear, not quite touching, but close enough that she knew Katara could feel the heat of every word. “The one I love… the one I truly love is Mai. My girlfriend. My person.”

Katara stiffened. Azula smirked.

Her free hand trailed up, barely brushing along Katara’s arm, featherlight at first, before gripping her shoulder, fingers pressing hard enough to leave a trace.

“Mai, who’s beautiful. Mai, who understands me.”

Her lips hovered over Katara’s jaw now, so close she could almost feel the tremor in Katara’s breath.

"Mai, who makes me feel things I never thought possible."

Her grip tightened. Katara swallowed hard.

Azula moved lower, her mouth tracing dangerously close to the side of Katara’s throat, her breath ghosting over the damp skin there. She wasn’t touching, but she could feel every reaction—every involuntary shiver, every twitch of tension.

She smiled.

“For her, I would tear the moon from the sky.”

She slid her hand down, fingers teasing the edge of Katara’s towel, lingering at the curve of her waist before clenching. She wanted Katara to feel it—wanted her to know.

“I love Mai so much that the only thing that matters to me is making sure she’s completely satisfied.”

Katara’s breathing turned uneven. Azula pressed closer, tilting her head, lips grazing the sensitive spot where neck met shoulder, lingering—just for a second. Just enough to feel the way Katara’s skin tensed beneath her.

“In every way.”

Katara’s hands were balled into fists now. Azula could feel her trembling, whether in anger or something else, she didn’t care.

“I want her so much I think about her every fucking second.”

She dragged her lips up, deliberately slow, until she was near Katara’s ear again, her breath washing over the flushed skin there.

“I want her so much I can’t even sleep at night.”

Katara exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath.

Azula’s smirk faltered. She had to get out. Now.

With a sharp inhale, she tore herself away, turning so quickly she barely registered the loss of warmth, the absence of contact. Her fists clenched as she stormed toward the door.

And then she was gone, the door slamming behind her, leaving her pulse thundering and her skin burning with something she refused to name.

.

.

.

Azula stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. The sharp click of the lock echoed in the empty space, but it did nothing to steady the storm raging inside her. Her heart was pounding, her breath uneven, and her skin still burned from where she had been too close—far, far too close.

Fuck.

She dragged a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she forced herself to breathe. She was angry—furious, even—but there was something else beneath it, something hotter, something she refused to name.

With a sharp exhale, she crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, reaching for the cigarette case on her bedside table. The familiar flick of her lighter cut through the silence, and soon, the first curl of smoke drifted into the air as she took a deep, slow drag.

Azula stepped toward the open window, the night breeze cooling the heat still clinging to her skin. Below her, the terrace stretched out like a stage, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. She exhaled, the smoke slipping past her lips like a sigh, and then she saw her.

Katara.

She had rejoined the others—her parents, Lu Ten, Uncle Iroh, and Ursa. Azula’s grip on her cigarette tightened as she watched Katara smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Kya’s forehead. Kya, who welcomed it without hesitation. Without question.

A sharp pang of something twisted in Azula’s chest, something ugly and bitter.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, Katara lifted her head. Their eyes met.

Azula didn’t look away.

She held Katara’s gaze, unflinching, unreadable, as she brought the cigarette to her lips once more. The ember flared, casting a faint glow against her skin, and she took her time, inhaling deep before exhaling in a slow, steady stream.

Katara’s expression shifted—uncertain, searching.

Azula smirked, just barely, the ghost of amusement curling at the corner of her lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, she flicked the cigarette between her fingers, letting the ash scatter into the night.

Chapter Text

Azula stood in front of the grand mirror in the mansion's lavishly decorated room, the reflection staring back at her with sharp, calculating eyes. She adjusted the black suit she was wearing, the tailored jacket hugging her frame perfectly, while the deep neckline revealed just enough to suggest something dangerous yet sophisticated. Gold jewelry glinted around her neck and wrists, adding a touch of opulence to the already extravagant ensemble.

She ran her fingers through her sleek, dark hair, ensuring it remained perfectly in place, slicked back without a single strand out of order. The style was sharp, precise—just like her. She could hear the faint sounds of laughter and conversation from the downstairs party, the noise of family members mingling and the high-pitched clinking of glasses.

Azula glanced at herself in the mirror once more, her expression turning cold as she saw the flicker of something deep in her eyes—a frustration that had been brewing ever since the announcement of Lu Ten and Katara’s engagement. It felt like everything was slipping from her grasp, and she hated it.

And last night...

Her phone buzzed on the vanity beside her. She didn’t need to look to know it was Mai. Probably another message telling her to have a nice day or something like that.

Azula resisted the urge to check her phone. She was still pissed that Mai hadn’t come with her.

She put her hand in her pocket, her fingers finding a lighter, and she gripped it tightly.

“Fuck me,” she whispered to herself before grabbing her phone and leaving the room.

The party was being held in the garden, which had been beautifully arranged with shades of violet and blue flowers. The atmosphere was lively, filled with a large number of guests. Azula descended the grand staircase alone. As she made her way down, she caught sight of Lu Ten and Katara in the distance, engaged in conversation with a couple. Lu Ten looked effortlessly elegant in his designer suit, while Katara appeared nothing short of breathtaking in her midnight-blue dress—annoyingly so. Azula felt a flicker of irritation at just how stunning Katara looked, as if the other woman was doing it on purpose.

Last night...

But before Azula could lose herself too deeply in her thoughts, her mother appeared right in front of her.

"Azula, late, again," her mother remarked with a cold smile.

"Mother, always a pleasure," Azula replied coolly, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Please, dear, don’t make a scene," her mother said, her tone cool but firm. "Today is for Lu Ten."

Azula’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of her cousin’s engagement, but she quickly masked it with a composed expression. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, but she wasn’t about to let her mother dictate her every move.

"Don't worry, Mother," she continued, her tone just short of sweet, "I’ll keep the theatrics to a minimum. Lu Ten deserves his spotlight."

Her mother’s expression softened, but only just. "See that you do."

Before her mother could say anything more, a soft voice cut in.

"You look nice, Azula," Kiyi said with a bright smile, standing beside their mother.

She wore a delicate lilac dress that draped around her with effortless elegance, her presence almost radiant. She practically glowed with happiness for Lu Ten and Katara—a stark contrast to the quiet bitterness smoldering beneath Azula’s facade.

Azula barely had time to respond before Kiyi added, “I wanted to wear a suit like yours, but Mother wasn’t having it.” She rolled her eyes slightly, though there was still a playful lilt to her voice.

Ursa’s gaze flickered toward Kiyi, her expression carefully composed, but Azula didn’t miss the slight tension there. Of course, their mother had wanted her youngest daughter to look delicate, refined—perfect.

Azula smirked, tilting her head slightly.

"A suit would’ve suited you," she said, voice smooth but distant. "But I suppose you make the dress work."

Kiyi grinned at the half-compliment before turning back toward the garden, clearly eager to rejoin the celebration.

"Please, don’t give her ideas," mumbled her mother.

Azula decided to ignore that.

"Shall we, then?" she asked, her voice dripping with indifference. "I don’t plan to waste the entire evening standing here."

Her mother gave a final, calculating look.

"I’ve already given them my congratulations, Azula," her mother said, her voice cold. "You didn’t think I’d wait for you, did you?"

Azula scoffed, her eyes narrowing.

"Of course you won’t," she muttered, brushing past her mother with a sharp click of her heels against the marble floor. "You never did."

As she moved through the crowd, Azula couldn’t help but feel the weight of the evening bearing down on her—Lu Ten’s engagement, her mother’s judgment, and the ever-present reminder that no matter how much she tried to control everything, she couldn’t control everything or everyone. And then, of course, there was Katara—the perfect, flawless, annoying Katara—who seemed to have everything Azula couldn’t quite grasp.

Azula shook off the thought, her gaze narrowing as she spotted her cousin again, laughing with Katara by his side. The sight made something stir in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside.

"Let’s get this over with," Azula muttered under her breath as she made her way deeper into the garden, determined to keep her focus on something, anything, other than the growing storm inside her.

Azula approached Lu Ten and Katara. Lu Ten, as always, was happy to see his cousin, his face lighting up with a warm smile. Katara, however, seemed more reserved. She gave a polite but distant smile, clearly trying to maintain a certain level of composure in Azula’s presence.

For her, I would tear the moon from the sky.

Azula, sensing the tension, didn’t bother to mask her own feelings. She offered a small, insincere smile in Katara’s direction, but her eyes were sharp, analyzing.

“Lu Ten, looking as charming as ever,” Azula said smoothly, her voice almost too sweet.

Lu Ten chuckled, his tone lighthearted. "And you, Azula, still as sharp as ever. How have you been since last night?"

"Surviving," she replied with a shrug, her eyes flicking to Katara briefly before returning to her cousin.

"So," Azula said to Lu Ten, deliberately avoiding Katara's piercing blue eyes, "you've found the right one after all."

Her tone was light, almost casual, but the undertone was unmistakable. She wasn’t exactly congratulating him; it was more of an observation, like she was still trying to wrap her head around the idea. She kept her gaze fixed on Lu Ten, who smiled at her with his usual warmth, oblivious to the subtle tension in her words.

"Well, you know me," Lu Ten replied, chuckling. "When I find something I like, I don’t waste time." His eyes sparkled with genuine affection as he glanced at Katara. "Right, my love?"

Azula’s jaw tightened slightly, and she quickly turned her attention to the garden, feeling a strange knot form in her stomach.

I want her so much I think about her every fucking second.

It wasn’t jealousy, she assured herself. It wasn’t anything like that. But seeing them together—so perfect, so easy—stirred something in her that she couldn’t quite put into words.

Katara, sensing the shift in energy, gave a polite smile.

"Yeah, we’re both happy," she said softly.

Azula finally allowed her gaze to flicker back to Katara, her eyes sharp.

I want her so much I can’t even sleep at night.

"Happy, huh?" she repeated, her tone carefully neutral, though her words held a quiet challenge.

Katara met her gaze briefly, and for just a moment, Azula saw something flicker behind those blue eyes—something that was almost... knowing.

And she couldn’t help herself. She thought about last night... about how close they had been, about how much it had haunted her all night.

But before Azula could dwell on it, Lu Ten clapped his hands together, breaking the tension.

"Well, it’s not every day I get engaged to a beautiful woman," he said with a smile. "Let’s make the most of this party, shall we?"

Azula forced a smile, her mind still spinning, but her expression cold.

"Of course," she replied, her voice flat. "I’m sure it’ll be... unforgettable."

.

.

.

Azula leaned against the balcony railing, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as she watched the guests mingle below. The party was in full swing. Laughter and conversation buzzed beneath her, but she barely registered it.

Beside her, Zuko took a deep drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim evening light. Jet leaned casually against him, one arm draped over Zuko’s shoulder, his own cigarette dangling between his fingers. They looked comfortable—effortlessly at ease in a way Azula found both irritating and vaguely enviable.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Jet remarked, blowing out a lazy stream of smoke.

Azula scoffed, tapping ash over the railing. “And you look like you’re not thinking at all.”

Zuko snorted, shaking his head. “You two are impossible.”

Jet just grinned.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” He pressed a quick kiss to Zuko’s lips, and for once, Zuko didn’t roll his eyes.

Azula barely paid them any attention. Her gaze had landed on a trio making their way through the crowd—Hakoda, pushing Kya’s wheelchair, with Katara walking protectively at her mother’s side.

She frowned slightly. Something about the way Katara stayed so close, the way her father moved with quiet precision, made Azula shift her weight.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked, nodding toward Kya.

Zuko followed her gaze, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “Cancer.”

Azula hummed, taking another slow drag. She should’ve guessed.

Jet exhaled through his nose, his usual smirk fading. “Katara already lost a brother to it years ago. They’re family are curse.”

Azula’s grip on her cigarette tightened slightly.

She didn’t know that.

Of couse she didn’t. She never asked Katara anything about her life.

She glanced at Katara again.

And again, and again, and again...

Katara suddenly turned, as if she had felt Azula watching. Their eyes met, and for a split second, something unreadable flickered across Katara’s face before she looked away, her attention snapping back to her mother.

Azula took another drag, exhaling through her nose.

“They look… close,” Zuko breathed.

Azula flicked ash over the railing. “Sickeningly so.”

“What, you don’t think it’s sweet?” chuckled Jet.

Azula shot him a look.

“I think it’s exhausting.”

Jet hummed in amusement but didn’t argue.

She took another long drag, watching as Katara was talking to her mother. The warmth in her expression was so open, so painfully genuine, that Azula felt something sharp curl in her stomach.

Jet stretched, tossing the rest of his cigarette over the railing. “C’mon, Zuko, let’s grab a drink.”

Zuko hesitated, glancing at Azula. “You coming?”

Azula didn’t look away from the garden. “In a minute.”

Zuko gave her a knowing look but didn’t push. With a shrug, he followed Jet back inside, their laughter fading into the music and chatter of the party.

Alone now, Azula leaned against the railing, still smoking.

She watched as Katara adjusted the blanket over her mother’s lap, her hands careful and precise. She watched the way Kya smiled up at her daughter, the way Katara never let go of her mother’s hand.

Azula took another slow drag, her grip on the cigarette steady.

And she kept watching.

.

.

.

Azula leaned back in her chair, the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversation around her fading into the background. The music played softly, adding to the almost surreal atmosphere of the party, but her focus wasn’t on the sounds—it was on Katara.

She watched from a distance as Katara approached Lu Ten with a soft smile. She could see the way her eyes lit up, the clear anticipation in her posture. Azula leaned forward slightly, intrigued, as she watched Katara ask Lu Ten to dance.

But instead of taking her hand and leading her to the floor, Lu Ten merely kissed Katara’s cheek and immediately took a phone call. Azula’s lips curled into a faint smirk. The action wasn’t overtly rude, but the indifference was palpable, and the way Katara’s smile faltered, the subtle drop of her shoulders—Azula noticed everything.

She watched as Katara, a little too gracefully, settled back into her chair. She folded her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast, but the disappointment was written all over her face, even if she tried to hide it.

For a brief moment, Azula’s gaze lingered on Katara, her mind turning over what she had just seen. It was a strange moment. Katara, with all her beauty and charm, seemed to want something more, but Lu Ten’s lack of attention... it was almost fascinating to Azula.

She took a sip of her champagne, her eyes still fixed on Katara.

Suddenly, she felt something cool land on her face.

Water.

The rhythmic patter of rain on the stone pathways cut through the music and chatter of the party. Azula’s gaze flicked upward just as the first droplets began to fall. The crowd erupted into chaos, scrambling toward the manor to escape the downpour. Azula stood, ready to retreat inside, when something stopped her in her tracks.

Katara.

The woman was standing at the edge of the garden, her dress clinging to her as the rain soaked her through. Her eyes were cast downward, and she seemed completely unaware of the sudden downpour, as if she were lost in thought—or maybe in something else.

Azula’s first instinct was to just leave it. It wasn’t her problem. But something about the way Katara stood there, unaffected by the elements, unsettled her. It made her pause, just for a second too long.

Without really thinking, Azula followed Katara as she walked into the depths of the garden. Her heels clicked softly on the wet stones as she stepped out into the rain, her pace quickening.

Eventually, she found her—standing alone beneath a small kiosk, her hair and dress drenched, looking like she had no intention of moving.

Fuck.

The sight of Katara like this, vulnerable and unguarded, made something in Azula’s chest tighten. And for some reason, Azula felt a strange, unexpected pull toward her.

Katara didn’t notice her approach, too lost in her thoughts or too distracted by the rain.

Azula stepped forward, voice laced with something almost sharp as she broke the silence.

"What are you doing here?"

Katara flinched, startled, her eyes snapping up to meet Azula’s with a flicker of surprise. For a brief second, the tension hung between them like the rain in the air, heavy and palpable. Katara’s lips parted, as though she wasn’t sure what to say, and then she answered with a question of her own.

"What are you doing here?"

The words lingered in the air between them, thick with an unspoken tension neither could quite define. Azula’s gaze remained steady, but something within her shifted. Katara’s look was different now—not raw, not vulnerable. Angry.

Good, Azula thought. She preferred that.

Azula who was feeling the rain run through her hair and drip down her neck, took a step closer beneath the kiosk.

"Doesn’t look like you're having much fun," Azula remarked, her tone more curious than biting.

Katara didn’t respond. Instead, she glanced down at her soaked dress, her shoulders drooping slightly as she tried to brush away the water. It was clear she was making an effort to collect herself.

"Why were you standing out here in the rain?" Azula asked, her voice low.

Katara sighed, her expression unreadable, before she spoke, almost to herself. "I... don’t have to justify myself to you."

Azula’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Right, you don’t have to."

Katara looked away, her gaze drifting over the darkened garden. For a long moment, Azula just stood there, watching her. There was something about Katara that intrigued her—something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

"If you need someone to talk to..." Azula began, her voice uncharacteristically soft, before she quickly cleared her throat.

Katara didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned her head, studying Azula for a long, lingering moment, her brow furrowed.

The garden fell silent again, save for the soft patter of rain. For the first time that evening, Azula found herself wondering just how much more there was to Katara than what she'd seen.

Katara's voice broke the silence, sharp and unexpected. "Why would I talk to you? You don’t like me."

Azula’s expression faltered for only a second before she masked it again, her eyes meeting Katara’s with cold indifference.

"No," Azula replied flatly, without hesitation or remorse. "You're right. I don’t."

"So, why are you here, then?" Katara asked, her tone challenging.

Azula didn’t know how to answer. Honestly, she had no idea.

Liar.

Her mind worked faster than her mouth, and before she could think better of it, she lifted her hand slightly, almost casually.

"Dance with me?" she asked, her tone unexpectedly calm as she raised her hand in invitation.

Katara blinked, confusion and disbelief flashing across her face. "Is that a joke?"

Azula’s gaze didn’t waver, her lips curving into something that might’ve been mistaken for a smirk. "Do I look like I’m joking?"

Katara didn’t respond right away. For a brief moment, Azula wondered if she had pushed too far. But then, Katara’s surprise faded into something more guarded. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms loosely over her chest.

"Why would you think I want to dance, especially with you?" Katara retorted.

Azula smirked.

"You just... didn’t get your dance earlier, right?" She paused, her confidence unmistakable. "And, for the record, I’m actually an excellent dancer."

Katara’s eyebrow remained arched, her gaze daring. "You were watching me?"

Azula’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch.

"No," she replied, the denial coming out more out of habit than any real conviction. "I wasn’t watching you."

She looked away quickly, though she knew it didn’t matter. The rain had blurred everything—her thoughts, her intentions.

Katara seemed unconvinced, and Azula’s patience began to wear thin.

"Come on, don’t be shy," she said, her voice laced with mockery as she moved closer, her gaze never leaving Katara’s.

Katara stood still for a moment, considering. Her eyes flicked to the empty garden around them, the silence heavy and almost suffocating. Then, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Azula felt her patience slip further.

"There’s no music," Katara finally said, her voice almost apologetic, trying to ground herself in reality.

Azula didn’t miss a beat. Her expression remained unchanged, and she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with challenge.

"We don’t need music," she said, the words almost daring Katara to refuse.

Katara’s gaze locked onto hers, the tension building between them. Azula’s pulse quickened, but she stood her ground, feeling the distance between them close with every passing second.

Finally, Katara let out a quiet, almost resigned breath.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady but soft. "Let’s dance."

Azula's breath hitched, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. When Katara's cold hand slid into hers, a shiver ran down her spine, the unexpected chill of Katara's touch sending a jolt through her. Her fingers tightened instinctively around Katara's, though her chest tightened in response, something unfamiliar swirling within her.

Azula quickly masked the reaction with a raised eyebrow, trying to shake off the warmth that had suddenly surged beneath her skin.

"So, you’re really going to humor me?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor that lingered in her touch.

Katara met her gaze, unwavering.

"I’m not," she said, the challenge clear in her tone.

Azula didn’t wait another moment. She stepped closer, her body almost instinctively aligning with Katara’s under the gazebo, sheltered from the rain still softly falling around them. Yet, for that brief moment, it felt as though the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them in that fragile, unexpected space.

Azula slowly placed a hand on Katara’s waist, her fingers grazing the damp fabric of her dress. The contact made her shiver slightly—the fabric was cold, wet, clinging to her skin, and Azula couldn’t help but feel it intensely under her fingers. She didn’t release her hold, feeling the warmth of Katara against her despite the rain. Katara placed her hand on Azula’s shoulder, but Azula seized her wrist.

“Not like that,” she told her.

Katara raised an eyebrow, and with a calculated gentleness, Azula guided Katara’s hands around her neck, never breaking eye contact, a silent challenge in her gaze.

“Like this.”

Their bodies drew even closer, the space between them becoming almost nonexistent.

She shifted ever so slightly, pulling Katara a little closer, their bodies brushing just a bit more intimately than before. She could feel the dampness of Katara’s dress against her own skin, the coolness of the fabric clinging to her. The sensation sent a strange jolt through her, but Azula wouldn’t let herself show it.

Instead, she leaned in a little, her lips barely brushing Katara’s ear as she spoke in a low, teasing tone, “You know, you look even better up close.”

Katara stiffened slightly, trying to pull back, but Azula wasn’t having it. She tightened her grip, subtly pulling her even closer. The heat of Katara’s body, despite the rain-soaked dress, was palpable, and Azula could feel every curve, every slight movement of Katara against her.

Katara’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile.

“You’re trying to get on my nerves, aren’t you?” she said, voice steady but with a hint of something that Azula couldn’t quite place.

Azula smirked, her fingers grazing the small of Katara’s back.

“Why would I do that?” she asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent in her expression.

Katara shook her head.

“I thought I wasn’t your type, Azula,” she said, trying to keep her composure, but Azula could see the tension in her jaw.

Azula didn’t care. In fact, she relished in it. She wanted to see how far she could push Katara. It was almost too easy, how quickly she could make her lose her cool.

"Oh, but you’re not my type, not at all," Azula murmured, her lips brushing against Katara’s cheek, just a hair away from kissing her.

The proximity, the heat, the water dripping down Katara’s neck—Azula’s heart beat faster, but she would never admit it. She wouldn’t let herself get caught up in whatever this was. She pulled away slightly, but kept her hands firmly around Katara’s waist.

Katara’s gaze flickered back to her, eyes still glowing with that beautiful intensity that Azula couldn't quite resist, no matter how hard she tried. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Azula could feel the silence building, heavy with tension.

She could sense that Katara was holding back, trying to maintain control of herself. But Azula was enjoying the challenge, enjoying how she could make her feel something. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted to feel.

Azula let out a breath, her voice a little quieter now.

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

The words were almost soft, but they carried weight—weight that made Katara stop, if only for a second.

Katara's eyes darkened, but she didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she just turned her head slightly, as if to avoid Azula’s gaze. The dance continued, but it was different now. Azula could feel the tension between them, thick and undeniable.

And for once, Azula wasn’t sure if it was something she wanted to push further—or something she needed to let go.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Katara asked, voice teasing but with an underlying edge.

Azula’s eyes flashed briefly, an amused glint in them. She straightened, trying to gain some distance.

“Don’t bring Mai into this,” she said sharply, her tone clipped.

Katara’s smirk only deepened.

“Why? I thought you like her more the moon?” she taunted.

Azula’s breath hitched for a moment, but she quickly recovered, trying to maintain control.

“I do love her,” she answered, her voice steady. “I just don’t want to talk about her with you.”

She took another small step forward, her lips barely touching Katara’s ear.

“Let it be just me with you,” she murmured, her voice low and almost coaxing, as though she were trying to strip away Katara’s resolve, piece by piece.

Katara froze, her body stiffening for a moment before she gently pulled away, her eyes flickering to the ground. Azula watched her, the conflict flashing across Katara’s face, like a storm fighting to break free.

It was almost... entertaining.

Almost.

"Azula, you can't... you can't do this," Katara’s voice trembled, laced with something Azula couldn’t quite place—fear, confusion, or maybe both. Her eyes darted away, as if the weight of the words she couldn’t quite make sense of was too heavy to bear. "It’s my engagement party... with your cousin."

Azula could see the hesitation in her—Katara was unraveling, even if she didn't want to admit it. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and Azula could feel the distance between them, even as she stood so close.

"And I’m straight..." Katara’s words were shaky, each one like a desperate plea for clarity. "I—I don’t even know what this is... what you’re doing. This... this is insane."

It was almost comical, watching her try to hold onto something—anything—while her chest rose and fell, caught in a breathless rhythm of indecision. Azula could feel the pull, the way Katara was trying so hard to fight against it, but it was useless. She was already lost, caught in something that, try as she might, she couldn’t untangle.

And in that moment, Azula knew—she could make her doubt herself even more. And it would be so easy. So satisfying.

Azula’s lips curled into a cold, knowing smile as her hand effortlessly found the small of Katara’s back once more.

"Oh? I didn’t realize," she responded, her voice smooth and laced with something unspoken.

Katara’s gaze lifted to meet hers, blue eyes filled with something Azula couldn’t quite name. But whatever it was, it made her heart race. She knew she was walking a fine line. But she didn’t care.

She wanted this.

Fuck.

Wanted her.

So much, she might die.

“Is this what you do?” Katara asked, voice thick with frustration. “Play with people like this?”

Azula leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Katara’s once more.

“Only when they make it so easy,” she replied, her voice dripping with challenge and allure.

Katara’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she met Azula’s gaze head-on, as if daring her to push further.

And Azula—reluctantly—was more than willing to oblige.

"I thought you hated me."Katara’s voice was thick with disbelief as she met Azula’s gaze, her eyes searching for an answer.

The words lingered in the air, but Azula couldn’t hear them anymore. All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears, her pulse roaring louder and faster with each beat, drowning out everything but the frantic thrum of her heart.

"I do hate you, darling," Azula whispered, her voice rough, but the words felt like a lie in her mouth as soon as they left. "I truly, deeply, hate you."

But then—something shifted. Her breath caught in her throat, strangled by the tightness in her chest, and before she could stop herself, her lips crashed into Katara’s.

The world stopped.

Time stopped.

Everything just... stopped.

It was as if a dam had broken inside her—an unbearable pressure released in a single, desperate act. She had no control, no restraint. Katara wasn’t pulling away. In fact, she was still there, her body pressed against hers, and that realization sent a shockwave through Azula.

Her hands moved on their own, urgent and greedy. She pushed Katara’s back hard against the cool stone pillar of the kiosk, the jagged edge biting into Katara’s skin, but neither of them cared. The stone was cold, sharp, but the heat between them was all-consuming.

Azula couldn’t stop.

The kiss was reckless, untamed, as though Azula was finally letting herself feel something—anything. She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to think. All she knew was that Katara wasn’t pulling away, and that fact alone ignited a fire in Azula that she couldn’t douse, no matter how hard she tried.

And for the first time in her life, Azula didn’t care about control. She didn’t care about anything except that moment.

Azula never thought kisses could be so good, so consuming. Every inch of her body seemed to hum with electricity as she deepened the kiss, feeling Katara's warmth and softness. Katara’s lips, soft and pliant beneath hers, melted into the kiss, a momentary surrender that Azula didn’t know she wanted—or needed.

But there was no thinking. No reason behind it. Azula was lost in the sensation, her mind spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. The world outside the rain-soaked garden ceased to exist. It was just them, the taste of Katara, the heat between their bodies, and the pulsing rhythm of Azula's heart that only grew louder.

Azula pulled back slightly, just enough to breathe, their faces inches apart. Katara’s eyes were wide, searching Azula’s face for any sign of understanding. Azula wasn’t sure if she had one, but in that instant, nothing seemed to matter but the lingering sensation of their kiss.

To the moon...

"I..oh my god, I—" Katara started, her voice trembling with the weight of her words, unsure of how to finish.

Azula, however, seemed unfazed. She ran a finger along Katara’s jaw, her smirk widening as she saw the tension in Katara's eyes.

"Don’t think," she murmured softly, almost teasing.

Azula’s hand traced down Katara’s wet waist, her fingers brushing the fabric of her soaked dress, her touch cold and deliberate. She never once looked away, locking eyes with Katara, as though daring her to say something.

Katara’s breath was quick, shallow. Her entire body tensed, a mix of fury and disbelief.

"Don’t think?" she echoed, her voice laced with bitterness. "So you just want a doll to kiss, touch, and talk shit with?"

Azula’s smirk didn’t falter. "Yeah, just be a good gir..."

Azula didn’t see it coming. The sting of the slap snapped through the air, leaving Azula momentarily stunned, her cheek burning with the impact. Katara’s words hit harder.

"You’ve talked like shit to me from the moment we met, and now you kiss me knowing I’m your cousin’s fiancée?" Katara hissed, her voice seething with rage. "You’re completely out of your mind, Azula."

Azula’s grip tightened around Katara’s waist, fury flaring in her chest. She pulled Katara closer, not letting her escape.

"Never asked you to be my girl, Katara," she snarled, voice low and threatening.

Katara glared back, her eyes full of venom.

"Really?" she spat. "That’s not what you’ve made me think."

Azula’s jaw tightened, her gaze now fierce as lightning.

"Oh, and what do you think?" she growled, her voice cutting through the space between them like a blade.

Katara’s breath came in sharp, controlled bursts.

"I think you want me," she said softly, her voice holding a dangerous kind of clarity. "So badly you can’t even control yourself."

Azula opened her mouth to respond, but Katara was faster.

"I think," she said, her voice now icy, "that you're actually miserable and scared of being alone, so you drag someone down with you. Anyone who’ll play your game."

Azula froze, her body rigid with tension. The truth in Katara's words stung, more than she was willing to admit.

Azula's pulse raced, fury coursing through her veins as Katara’s words hit their mark. The truth—sharp and biting—gnawed at her, unraveling the tightly controlled armor she had built around herself.

“You... you don’t know anything,” Azula spat, her voice tight with the weight of the confession she wasn't ready to face. Her breath was shallow, every muscle in her body tense with rage and something deeper she refused to acknowledge.

"You think you’ve got me figured out?" Azula hissed, her breath hot against Katara’s face. Her fingers tightened on Katara’s waist, her grip almost bruising. "You don’t have a fucking clue."

Katara's lips parted, ready to retort, but Azula didn’t give her the chance. She crashed her lips against Katara’s in a kiss that was pure, unfiltered rage—a kiss that burned with the intensity of everything unsaid between them.

Katara gasped against her mouth, but Azula didn’t pull away. She kissed her harder, as though trying to drown out the truth of what Katara had said, trying to force her to feel something, anything other than the bitter sting of it.

Katara pulled away, but Azula wasn’t having it. She kissed her back with a fierceness that surprised them both. Pressing her harder against the column, Azula’s hand left Katara’s waist, tangling in her wet hair and pulling her even closer, as if she couldn’t get enough of her in the midst of the chaos.

When they finally broke apart, both were panting, breathless from the ferocity of their kiss. Azula’s chest was tight, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Katara’s eyes were wide, her face flushed with anger and something else—a deep, unsettling vulnerability.

Azula’s voice was low, almost a growl.

"You’re driving me insane, Katara," she admitted, her gaze flickering between the anger in Katara’s eyes and the truth she had just revealed. "You’re so goddamn infuriating... and yet..."

Katara’s jaw clenched, her pulse still racing. She was breathing heavily, lips swollen from their kiss.

"And yet?" she challenged, her voice hoarse.

Azula's smirk was dark, her eyes flickering with something sharp.

"For a straight girl, you're pretty fucking responsive."

Katara’s eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of disbelief and irritation.

"What the hell does that even mean?" she snapped.

Azula leaned in again, this time her words coming out in a low whisper.

"It means, that you’re shivering when I’m touching," she breathed, her fingers tracing softly Katara’s neck. "It means, you didn’t push me away when I kissed you."

Katara didn’t reply, but the way she looked at Azula spoke volumes. The tension between them had shifted, but neither was willing to back down. Not now. Not ever.

The moment hung between them, thick with unresolved tension, both women still pressed against the column, bodies too close, breaths mingling in the heavy silence. The rain continued to fall around them, soft against the chaos inside them both, but it only seemed to intensify the emotions boiling over.

Katara’s lips parted again, but this time, there was no anger in her eyes—just something darker, something raw that Azula couldn’t quite decipher. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss it away or challenge it further.

"I... I need to go," Katara said, pushing against Azula to free herself from the column where she was pressed.

Azula allowed her to pull away, but before Katara could take another step, she grabbed her wrist. Katara’s blue eyes flickered down to their intertwined hands before locking with Azula’s gaze.

"Meet me later, tonight," Azula said, her voice low and commanding. "Meet me at the garden hut."

Katara’s eyes widened as the weight of Azula’s invitation sank in. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

Azula’s gaze softened for just a moment, her thumb lightly tracing the palm of Katara’s hand, sending a subtle shiver up her spine.

"Because I want to," Azula replied, her voice steady, almost teasing. "And you do too."

Azula released her wrist, and Katara stood there, eyes wide in disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, the words failing her.

Without another word, Katara turned and walked into the rain, leaving Azula standing there beneath the gazebo. Azula watched her leave, before releasing a shaky breath and letting herself lean against the column.

Fuck.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

The night was quiet. The rain had stopped, leaving the scent of wet earth in the air. In the distance, the garden hut stood, dimly lit by a single lantern. Azula walked toward it, her heart pounding. Every step felt heavier. She had never been so sure of anything, yet this—this moment with Katara—was the most dangerous thing she had ever wanted.

Maybe the only thing she had ever truly, deeply, wanted in her life.

When she reached the hut, her eyes searched the shadows. Then, she saw her. Katara stood by the door, bathed in the lantern’s soft glow. Azula’s breath caught. She had changed into a simple purple dress, but on her, it was anything but simple. The fabric hugged her in all the right ways, flowing over her curves like water. Her damp hair clung to her skin, strands curling at her collarbone, drawing Azula’s gaze like a magnet.

Katara didn’t move as Azula approached. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—deep, uncertain, guilty—held her in place. But Azula wasn’t looking at her hesitation. She was looking at her. The way her dress shifted with the rise and fall of her breath. The way her lips were slightly parted, soft and inviting. The way the lantern’s glow caught the moisture on her skin, making her shimmer in the dim light.

Azula swallowed hard. She had seen Katara a few times before. But never like this. Never this close, this quiet, this utterly irresistible.

Seriously, this girl.

Fuck.

This girl was made for her.

"You’re here," Azula said, her voice low. 

She stepped closer, her body humming with the need to touch her. To feel her. To possess her.

Katara glanced away, biting her soft lip. Azula’s chest tightened.

"I don’t know why I’m here," Katara whispered.

Azula tilted her head, watching her carefully.

"You’re here because you want to be," she said, voice softer now. "Just like I do."

Katara shook her head. Her eyes met Azula’s—filled with conflict, but also something else. Something deep. Something dangerous.

"This is bad," Katara murmured. "I can’t do this."

Azula took another step. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers tracing the softness of Katara’s arm.

"You’re not running," she whispered, lips close to Katara’s ear. "I can feel it. You want this."

Katara inhaled sharply. Azula could see the war inside her, the fight between what she should do and what she wanted. Then, for just a moment, Katara’s guard slipped.

"I really, really shouldn’t," she said, voice shaking. She stepped back, but Azula followed.

She lifted Katara’s chin, forcing her to look at her. In the night her blue eyes are so dark. Like a storm over the sea.

"Don’t fight it," Azula murmured, brushing her thumb across Katara’s lips. "Not with me."

Katara closed her eyes, her breath uneven. Azula leaned in, her lips barely grazing Katara’s cheek. The warmth of her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Katara opened her eyes again, guilt and longing flickering in them.

"I can’t just do this with you," she whispered. "I have a life. A life I can’t leave behind."

Azula’s chest tightened.

"I have a life too," she said. Then, softer, almost bitter, "And you’re ruining it."She leaned in, her lips nearly touching Katara’s."Take your damn responsibility."

Katara gasped. She was so close that Azula could feel her nervous breath on her lips.

"What responsibility?" Katara asked.

Azula smirked.

"For driving me insane since the moment I first saw you," she admitted.

There. She had said it.

Finally.

Katara’s breath caught, and for a moment, Azula saw it—her walls crumbling, the raw vulnerability in her eyes making Azula’s pulse race.

There was no turning back now.

"You are the one who ruined my life the day I met you," Katara whispered, her voice unsteady. "You were so cruel."

Azula licked her lips, eyes never leaving Katara’s. "And yet, you survived."

Katara scoffed and turned her head sharply, frustration burning in her eyes.

The air between them thickened, charged with something neither of them wanted to name. Azula reached out, gently gripping Katara’s chin, forcing her to meet her gaze.

"Then let’s admit it," she murmured. "We’re bad for each other. So let’s destroy each other—just once. And never speak of it again."

"Just this once?" Katara’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Just this once," Azula promised.

The moment their lips met, it was like breathing for the first time. Like understanding desire itself. Like Katara’s lips had been meant for hers all along.

Azula kissed her with a hunger she hadn't expected, her hands gripping Katara’s waist, pulling her closer. She needed to feel her—every breath, every tremble, every inch of warmth against her skin.

Katara kissed back, and it was everything Azula had wanted. Everything she had craved.

The air in the hut was thick, heavy with their need. Katara’s body pressed into hers, warm and trembling. Every second pulled them deeper into something neither of them could control. Their breaths mixed, their pulses racing in sync.

Katara’s hands hesitated near Azula’s waist before finally pressing against her sides, pulling her in. It was surrender—silent but certain. And Azula’s heart pounded.

Katara kissed her again, slower this time, but just as intense. Azula’s eyes fluttered shut as she melted into it, every nerve in her body alive with want. Her hands slid down Katara’s back, tracing the curve of her spine, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

Katara pulled away slightly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes were wide, filled with something Azula couldn’t quite name.

But she didn’t let go. And neither did Azula.

"I think I hate myself," Katara whispered. "Lu Ten..."

Azula’s fingers curled into Katara’s back.

"Shh," she said, her voice low, almost dangerous. "Don’t think about him. It’s just us. Right now, this is what matters."

Katara didn’t answer. She searched Azula’s eyes, looking for something—maybe a reason to stop, maybe a flicker of doubt. But there was none. Azula’s gaze was steady, filled with intent, with need.

"It’s just you and me," Azula breathed. "Tonight, and only tonight, it’s just us."

Katara let out a slow, shaky breath. Then, without a word, her hands found Azula’s shoulders, fingers gripping tight. She pulled her in, and their lips met again—urgent, desperate. Azula responded instantly, threading her fingers into Katara’s damp hair, tugging her closer. Their bodies pressed together, and the world outside disappeared. Nothing else existed. Just this. Just them.

The kiss deepened, and Azula felt her control slipping. She hadn’t expected it to feel like this—so raw, so consuming—but there was no stopping now. This was a storm, and they were lost in it, neither one wanting to escape.

Katara gasped as Azula’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving slow, burning kisses. She tilted her head back, giving her more. Her breath came faster, uneven. Azula’s hands roamed lower, fingertips grazing her waist over the fabric of her dress. A shiver ran through Katara’s body. When a soft moan slipped past her lips, Azula felt a surge of satisfaction.

Katara pulled back, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes were dark with desire but tinged with guilt.

"I... I’ve never done this with a girl before," she admitted, barely a whisper.

Azula leaned in, resting her forehead against Katara’s. Their breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

"So I’ll be your first?" she murmured.

Katara swallowed hard. "Don’t enjoy yourself too much."

Azula smirked. "Too late, Katara."

Katara closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to collect herself, but Azula could feel the conflict within her. Katara’s hands clenched at her sides, then relaxed, torn between the life she knew and the pull of the moment. Azula felt that pull too, stronger than anything she had ever known. She didn’t care about anything else. Not Mai, not the consequences, not the reality outside.

All that mattered was Katara. The way she made Azula feel—alive, wanted, everything.

"Can you be... gentle?" Katara whispered, her lips brushing Azula’s ear. "Please."

Azula’s heart skipped a beat.

She fought to hide her reaction, but her fingers trembled against Katara’s back. The way this girl made her feel... She could almost lose control just from her voice. Azula took a deep breath and pulled back, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Gentle?" she repeated, her voice low, almost dangerous. "What? Do you think I’ll be rude to you?"

Katara hesitated. "Well, I’ve never seen you be soft or nice with me, so..."

Azula cut her off with a kiss—angry, maybe desperate. She tightened her hold on Katara, like she was her anchor.

"Don’t worry," she said, breathless, when they finally pulled away. "I’ll be gentle."

Katara looked at her, eyes wide and vulnerable. There was no resistance left, no fight. Only desire. Only the truth of the moment. When Azula kissed her again, deeper this time, Katara didn’t pull away.

Azula’s fingers trembled as she slid the thin straps of Katara's dress down. The air between them was thick, heavy with something intense. Katara’s breath hitched as Azula gently tugged the fabric down, her eyes on Katara’s skin, every inch of her body responding to the tension between them.

When the dress fell, it remained gathered at Katara's waist, and Azula’s breath caught in her throat. Seeing Katara like this, so close, made her pulse quicken. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

She wasn’t wearing a fucking bra at all.

And Agni.

Her breast looked so fucking perfect.It was like a dream, a work of art Azula couldn’t look away from. Her breath was shaky, struggling to control the desire rushing through her. 

“Can I...?” she whispered, her eyes searching Katara’s for any sign of hesitation.

Katara simply nodded, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. There was vulnerability in her eyes, but also a need, a longing, that mirrored Azula’s own.

Slowly, Azula’s fingers traced along Katara’s skin, following the curve of her body. Katara shivered, and Azula felt it like a jolt through her own body. The sensation was intoxicating—Katara’s skin was so warm, so soft under her touch, every inch of her body reacting to Azula’s fingertips.

Azula’s hand cupped Katara’s breast, her finger brushing the hard nipple gently, afraid to break the fragile moment. She felt another small shiver pass through Katara’s body, and it made her heart race. She wanted to make her shiver again, wanted to feel more of Katara’s warmth, to lose herself in every touch, every inch of her body.

“Azula,” breathed Katara as she closed her eyes  her lips slightly parted as she exhaled softly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Azula wanted her to moan her name, again, and again, again.  

She couldn’t tear her eyes away. She watched the rise and fall of her chest, the way her body trembled under her touch. Every part of Katara was reacting to her, to the heat between them.

Her fingers left her breast, tracing the curve of Katara’s stomach, feeling the smooth warmth beneath her touch. Each movement was slow, deliberate—Azula was savoring every moment, every second of connection. 

Katara’s breath quickened, and Azula felt her own pulse race.

She needed more. She wanted to feel more of Katara, to pull her closer, to lose herself in the sensation.

Her fingers slid lower, cupping Katara’s waist, and with every lingering touch, she felt Katara tremble again. Azula closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the need to make Katara respond even more.

“God, you’re perfect,” Azula whispered, her voice low, filled with awe and possessiveness. 

Katara’s only response was a quiet, shaky breath, as if she, too, was losing herself in the moment. Okay, she needed to act before she might come just with Katara’s sweet moans.

So, Azula gently pushed Katara until her back hit a  table.

“Sit,” she commanded. 

And Katara obeyed.

Just like that.

Just for her.

For me, and not for him, just me.

Azula felt a surge of satisfaction as Katara followed her command, sitting on the table with a grace that seemed almost hesitant. Azula watched Katara closely, noticing how her chest rose and fell with each breath, how her perfect breasts were just waiting for her to be touched.

She was pure beauty.

Katara’s hands rested on the table, her fingers brushing the scattered tools—gardening shears, gloves, a watering can. The ordinary objects seemed so out of place with the charged atmosphere around them. Azula couldn’t look away, captivated by how Katara sat there—vulnerable but powerful all the same.

"Are you nervous?" Azula asked softly, her voice low and teasing. Her eyes moved over Katara’s face, savoring the way she made Katara feel—unsettled but drawn in.

Katara hesitated, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, she nodded slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. "A little."

Azula stepped closer, her body hovering just a breath away from Katara’s. She moved between Katara's legs, carefully avoiding focusing on how Katara's dress had risen up her thighs.

“Good,” Azula said, her lips curling into a smile, possessive and amused. "I like that. I like knowing I can make you feel something." 

Katara looked at her, confusion flickering in her eyes. “You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Of course I am,” confirmed Azula and she could resist anymore. She gently slid her hands along Katara's thighs, going up to the fabric that hid what she desired so much.

“I..I need to tell you something,” suddenly said Katara as her eyes were looking where Azula’s hands were resting.

“What?”

“I,hum,I’m not…”

Azula frowned, but waited patiently.

“Tui and La, I can’t say this,” breathed Katara, “you’re going to make fun of me.”

Azula began to trace a slow pattern on Katara's soft skin without even thinking.

“I won’t.”

Finally, Katara lifted her head and locked her eyes with her.

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” assured Azula, “I won’t make fun of you.”

But please let me fuck you until we both collapse. 

“I’m not a good sex partner.”

Azula arched an eyebrow. She didn't expect that. Not at all.

“Says who?” 

“Say me,” mumbled Katara.

Katara looked so shy at that moment that Azula almost wanted to pull her into her arms, hold her, stroke her hair, and kiss her temple. She wanted to comfort her, for fuck's sake. What... on earth had this girl done to her?

“I..hum, it’s hard for me to…take pleasure in sex,” she explained. “Usually, I’m…not really into it.”

And then, as Azula had no desire to hear her cousin’s voice in her head, she couldn’t shake the memory of him, all smug and insufferable, talking about Katara." But the shy ones are always the best in bed.”

Azula had never been as disgusted by Lu Ten in her entire life. She didn’t know what kind of things he was doing with Katara, but one day, she would make him pay.

Damn it, Katara didn’t deserve him.

Not at all.

"Hey, Katara, it’s okay," Azula said softly, gently tucking a curly strand of hair that had fallen across Katara’s face behind her ear. "If you don’t want to go any further, we can stop."

Katara bit her bottom lip, and Azula noticed it immediately.

“I…I don’t want to stop.”

Azula tried to hide just how relieved she was to hear that.

“Good,” she said and leaned to kiss her softly on the lips. “Then let me show you how to enjoy it.”

Azula had always prided herself on control, on keeping her emotions in check. But with Katara, it was different. The way Katara looked at her now, with an intensity that sent heat rushing to Azula’s chest, was unsettling. 

Azula hated that it made her feel this way.

Azula’s mind flashed to Mai—the one who had always been there, her childhood friend, her partner. Mai had never made Azula’s heart race. And yet here she was, feeling something for Katara she couldn’t name. It felt dangerous, and Azula hated that it was happening now.

Mai had never looked at her this way. Never made her feel like this. The attraction she felt toward Katara was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—raw, intense, and terrifying.

Why Katara? Why now?

Azula glanced down, her hands trembling. She hated how vulnerable she felt. She’d always believed she understood herself, but with Katara, she felt lost. The fire between them wasn’t just literal—it was something deeper, something Azula couldn’t escape.

Katara smiled softly, and Azula felt a jolt of electricity. It was just a smile, but to Azula, it felt like the world was shifting.

"Are you alright?" Katara whispered, her voice steady but laced with concern.

Azula opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She hated the vulnerability flooding her. Instead, she quickly looked away, trying to regain some control.

"I'm fine," Azula whispered, her voice colder than she intended.

But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t just exhaustion—it was everything. The strange pull toward Katara, the conflict in her chest, the way her heart raced at the thought of her.

Katara didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press. She just studied Azula with a thoughtful expression. In that moment, Azula felt something unraveling inside her, her world shifting, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

But there was no turning back. Katara had already changed everything. And Azula didn’t know how to stop it.

So she kissed her, pulling her closer. One of her hands slid up Katara’s thigh, and Katara shivered.

Suddenly, a voice and footsteps behind the hut pierced the silence. Both froze, hearts pounding in their chests. Katara quickly pushed away, yanking her dress back down, her hands shaking.

Azula stood there, breath shallow, feeling the weight of the moment. Katara’s eyes widened in horror. Before Azula could speak, Katara whispered frantically, "Oh my god, what was I going to do?" Tears welled in her eyes, and her face flushed with embarrassment and panic.

Azula, her heart still racing, instinctively reached out and pulled Katara into a gentle embrace, trying to comfort her.

“It’s okay,” Azula whispered, her voice soft and calm.

But Katara pulled back slightly, fear in her eyes. 

“It’s not, Azula,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s my engagement party. I’m supposed to be with Lu Ten, in our bed... and I’m hiding... with you.”

Katara wiped at her eyes, trying to regain some composure.

"And what about Mai, ugh? Are you cheating on her all the time?" Katara snapped, her anger flaring up unexpectedly.

Azula’s heart pounded in her chest, and she stumbled over her words, trying to make sense of Katara’s sudden outburst.

"I—I never cheated on Mai," she said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay calm.

And it was true.

In twelve years, she never even thought about it.

Azula's eyes flickered with something darker, something she couldn’t quite hide. 

"Until I met you," she added, her voice quieter now but filled with undeniable emotion.

Katara's confusion deepened. She looked at Azula, trying to understand.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azula’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking to the floor before meeting Katara’s gaze again.

"You make me feel things... things I don’t know how to handle," Azula said, her voice rough. "I’m not cheating on Mai. I’m not some fucking cheater," she added, more to herself than to Katara. "But the truth is, I don’t know what to do with all of this. You... you’re different. And it’s messing with my head."

"Azula, we can't," Katara said, her voice softer now, but filled with undeniable sadness.

Azula stood there for a moment, the silence between them stretching painfully. She could feel her heart pounding, her breath shallow, as the anger and frustration she’d been holding onto started to melt away, leaving only the rawness of what was unfolding between them.

"I know," Azula said quietly, her voice hoarse. She took a step back, struggling to process everything. "I didn’t mean for this to happen, Katara. But I can't pretend that I don't feel it, too."

Katara looked away, her eyes clouded with uncertainty and regret. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, Azula. I don’t know what I was thinking, I—" Her words faltered, the guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. "I can’t... I can’t  do this."

Azula’s gaze softened, but there was an edge of frustration in her eyes. 

"So, what? We just forget what could have almost happened?" she asked.

 "I don’t know what else to do, Azula." She shook her head, as if trying to clear the confusion that had been clouding her mind. "I’m supposed to be with him, not you. This... this isn’t right."

Azula closed her eyes, swallowing hard. "Yeah, you already said that a thousand times," she whispered, "I get it." But inside, she felt something break, something she hadn’t even known was fragile until that moment.

“Then, go,” mumbled Azula as she threw a hair to her hair, messing them. “Just go.”

But, Katara didn’t move.

She just stayed here, and looked at the floor. 

“I..can’t.”

Azula raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“Why’s that?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended.

Katara blushed fiercely, her face turning as red as a tomato. 

“I mean, I would, but…not now,” she admitted as her hands fidgeted nervously with her dress, avoiding Azula’s gaze.

Azula leaned in slightly, her curiosity piqued by Katara’s reaction. 

“Why can’t you go back to your beloved one, ugh?” she pressed, the words slipping out more bitterly than she meant. The jealousy she’d been trying to push down was surfacing again, and she couldn’t help it.

Katara bit her lip, still not meeting Azula’s eyes.

 “You know why,” she murmured, her voice low, almost defeated.

Azula’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark and mischievous crossing her face. 

Oh. 

Ooh. 

The realization settled in her mind, and for a split second, Azula felt a surge of pride. Katara was starting to crack, to let down her guard. It wasn’t often Azula saw someone vulnerable in this way—especially not Katara.

A subtle smile tugged at the corner of Azula's lips. She could feel the power in the moment. This was her moment. She could play with Katara's nerves, toy with her just a little longer. It was the only pleasure she would get for tonight anyway, given the way things had spiraled out of control.

"Come on," Azula continued, her voice sweetly venomous, "what's stopping you from going back to him? Or are you really that turned on?"

Katara’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with the weight of her emotions. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Azula could see the internal struggle in her eyes—Katara was caught between two worlds, two desires, and Azula was enjoying watching it unravel.

For a moment, Azula let the silence hang between them, savoring the feeling of control she had in this delicate, broken moment. Then, leaning back with a smug smirk, she whispered, "I didn’t think you were into sex."

 The words were cutting, but Azula didn’t care. It was the only thing that could make her feel something tonight.

Katara’s voice trembled as she looked up at Azula, her expression torn between frustration and hurt.

"Azula, don’t be mean," she said softly, her words carrying an edge of vulnerability.

Azula tilted her head slightly, the faintest of smirks curling on her lips as she played the role of the innocent. 

"Me? Mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, as if the very idea was absurd. She put on an exaggeratedly innocent look, feigning confusion. "I’m just... having a conversation , Katara."

But even as she spoke, Azula knew she was pushing Katara's limits. The way Katara’s eyes flickered with uncertainty made it clear that she was feeling the weight of everything between them.

Azula took a step closer, her tone still light, almost playful, as if she hadn’t just pushed her into this emotional corner. 

"Oh Katara, you want to have sex with me that bad," she added with a slight shrug, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Katara’s breath hitched, her cheeks still flushed, and for a moment, Azula almost felt a pang of guilt. But the thrill of playing with Katara's emotions—of seeing her so conflicted, so open—was far too strong.

"Don’t make this harder than it already is, Azula," Katara whispered, her voice breaking, and in that moment, the playful facade faltered just enough for Azula to see the real pain in her eyes.

Azula paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing her features, but she quickly masked it.

 "I’m not the one making things hard, Katara," she said, her voice a little softer now. "You’re the one who can’t figure out what you really want."

Katara’s voice was low, but there was a fierce determination in her words. 

“I know what I want,” she said, her eyes meeting Azula’s with an intensity that made Azula’s breath catch for a moment. “But it’s not right that I want it.”

Azula’s expression shifted, the playful edge softening slightly. There was something raw in Katara’s voice, something painfully honest, and it struck Azula harder than she expected. She had known Katara to be strong, to be controlled, but this... this felt different.

Azula took a step closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Katara. "And why isn’t it right?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost searching. There was no hint of mockery this time, just genuine curiosity. “Because it’s me?”

“Azula, please…,” mumbled Katara.

Azula scoffed. 

"First time cheating on Lu Ten?" Azula asked, her voice cool but laced with something far less detached than usual.

Katara’s breath caught in her throat, and she quickly shook her head, her voice firm but laced with uncertainty. "I never cheat on Lu Ten."

Azula’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. 

"Aw, love, then I’m an exception?" she teased, her tone playful, yet with a sharp edge beneath it.

Katara’s face flushed, and she quickly looked away, her hands fidgeting nervously.

 "Don’t call me ‘love,’ Azula," she snapped, her voice more strained than she meant it to be.

Azula’s smirk widened, but there was something almost tender beneath the playful banter, a recognition of the discomfort that flickered in Katara’s eyes. She leaned back slightly, her gaze shifting, but she couldn’t resist pushing just a little more.

"Why not?" Azula asked, her voice quieter now, as though she genuinely wanted to know. "It’s just a word, Katara. You act like it means something you don’t want it to."

Katara swallowed hard

 "It’s not that," she said, her voice softer now. "It’s just... it feels wrong coming from you."

Azula tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment. 

"Wrong?" she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. "I never took you for someone who feared a little wrong , Katara."

The words hung in the air, charged with a mixture of challenge and something deeper, something that neither of them could fully understand yet.

Azula opened her mouth to say something more, her eyes glinting with mischief, ready to play into Katara’s nerves once again. But before she could speak, Katara surged forward, kissing her fiercely, her lips pressing against Azula’s with an urgency that took her completely by surprise.

Katara’s hands moved quickly, threading through Azula’s hair, pulling her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, as if it was the only way Katara could silence the whirlwind of emotions swirling between them. Azula’s heart raced, the shock of it catching her off guard, but something in her responded immediately—an instinct to give in to the heat between them, the tension that had been building for so long.

Azula's hands found Katara’s waist, gripping her tightly as she deepened the kiss, the fire between them igniting in ways Azula hadn’t expected. The kiss was all consuming—urgent, messy, a clash of need and confusion. For a moment, nothing else existed but the taste of Katara’s lips and the frantic rhythm of their breaths.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed. Azula’s chest heaved as she stared at Katara, her mind racing to process the intensity of what had just happened.

Katara didn’t look away either.

Azula swallowed hard, her voice a little more hoarse than usual. 

"I guess we’re not pretending anymore," she said, her words hanging in the air. She didn’t know whether she was speaking to Katara, or to herself.

"Just shut up," Katara mumbled before crashing her lips against Azula’s.

Azula didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, pressing forward, forcing Katara to step back until her back hit the wall. She slid between Katara’s legs, eliminating any space between them, her body flush against Katara’s as her hands gripped her waist firmly.

Katara gasped against her lips when Azula’s fingers trailed down her thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around her waist. The shift made Katara lose balance for a moment, but she quickly threw her arms around Azula’s neck, clinging to her to keep from falling.

Azula smirked against her lips before trailing slow, burning kisses down Katara’s neck. Her tongue grazed the soft skin, drawing a shudder from Katara. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as her fingers tangled in Azula’s dark hair, pulling her closer, needing more.

The air between them crackled with electricity, each touch, each breath drawing them deeper into the fire. Azula’s grip on Katara’s thigh tightened, her other hand sliding along the curve of her back, pulling her impossibly close, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Azula’s hand got lower, and grabbed her ass firmly. Just because she could. Just because it felt so good to do it. 

“Azula,” panted Katara to her ear.

Azula just hummed in response as her teeth brushed her skin.

“Don’t leave a mark,” warned Katara breathlessly.

Oh right.

She won’t.

Azula tried to ignore the ugly feeling burning in her chest and began exploring Katara’s inner thigh. When her fingers found Katara panties, and how wet she was already, she just forgot how to breathe. 

Damn it.

She was so, so ready for her. 

“Looks like someone needy,” she whispered to Katara’s ear.

Azula’s finger traced slowly over the fabric of Katara’s panties, just above the spot she knew would make her shiver. She moved with deliberate slowness, her touch light yet calculated, savoring the effect it had on Katara.

She could feel Katara trying to steady her breath, to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was clear it wasn’t working. Azula’s caress was unyielding, sweet and persistent, and with every movement, she could feel Katara’s breath falter, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps.

Azula couldn’t help but smirk at the effect she was having, watching Katara’s struggle to remain composed. She let her finger linger a moment longer, enjoying the way her touch made Katara tremble, knowing there was no escape from the tension she was creating.

“Is that good?” she asked.

“Y..yeah,” panted Katara, eyes squeezed shut, forehead buried in Azula’s neck.

Azula smiled, the corners of her lips curving with satisfaction as she intensified her touch. Her fingers moved more boldly now, caressing Katara’s skin through the fabric, tracing the sensitive spot with a deliberate slowness that made Katara’s breath catch.

Katara’s attempts to hold herself together faltered, and Azula could hear the soft, desperate way Katara whispered her name, barely audible but full of need.

“Azula…”

The sound of it made Azula’s smile widen. She relished in the way Katara’s body responded to every touch, every gentle pressure. Her hand moved under Katara’s panties, the fabric was stretched, as she was teasing, exploring, savoring Katara’s wetness with each passing second. 

Katara's breath hitched, her voice a soft, desperate whisper as she finally spoke, her words trembling with need. "Azula... please, faster."

Azula surrendered. 

She moved her fingers faster now, her touch becoming more urgent, more commanding on Katara’s sensitive clit. Katara's breath came in uneven gasps.

As Azula’s touch grew more urgent, Katara’s body trembled, her nails digging into Azula’s shirt with a desperate intensity. She pulled Azula closer, her hands gripping the fabric, fingers curling into the material as if to hold on for dear life.

At this point Azula didn’t even care if Katara left a mark on her shoulders.

She would think about this later.

“I..I think I’m..”

“It’s okay, I got you…,”

With one final, shaky breath, Katara's body tensed, her nails sinking deep into Azula’s shirt as she finally released, a loud moan escaping her lips. The tension in her body unraveled in that moment, her fingers still pressing into the fabric as she clung to Azula, the last of her breath leaving her in a sigh of surrender.

“…I got you, love.”

Azula didn’t even realize she was panting too, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, mirroring the frantic rhythm that had built between them. She was lost in the moment, in the way Katara had surrendered to her touch, the way their bodies had come together with such intensity.

As Katara lifted her head from Azula's shoulder, her eyes glistening with tears at the edges, Azula couldn’t help but be pulled in by the raw emotion radiating from her. The sight of Katara—vulnerable, breathless, yet still so powerful—struck something deep inside Azula.

Without thinking, without hesitation, they kissed. It was a soft and gentle kiss. 

It was sweet.

It was everything Azula had ever wanted. 

Chapter Text

Drop. Drop. Drop—

The rain tapped against the wooden roof, light and steady. A slow trickle ran down the edges, splashing onto the damp earth. The air smelled fresh, rich with the scent of wet leaves and soil.

Katara held Azula close. Fingers stroking the nape of Azula's neck, playing with the fine strands of dark hair there. The storm murmured in the distance, but here, there was only this.

It was slow, quiet, intimate, and neither wanted to break the moment.

Azula kept her forehead against Katara’s, feeling her breath and the way their bodies fit together.The pull between them was dangerous, intense, impossible to ignore. It settled in her chest, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Things she wasn’t supposed to feel for her. 

It was both terrifying and thrilling.

And, as always, when Azula felt too much, she deflected.

“So,” Azula murmured, her voice a little hoarse, “ not into it , right?”

Katara let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. “Tui and La, you just have to ruin the moment, don’t you?”

“Do you know why you actually enjoyed it?” Smirked Azula.

“I assume you’re going to tell me,” groaned Katara.

Azula’s grin widened. “Because I’m that good.”

Katara immediately stopped running her fingers through Azula’s hair and gave her a flat look. Azula hated how much she disliked that—and how badly she wanted her to continue the delicate attention.

“Are you always this smug?”

“Mmh,” Azula tilted her head, pretending to think. “Yes.” she confirmed, “but that’s part of my charm.”

Actually, no. She wasn’t smug. She wasn’t like this with Mai—she didn’t need to be.

The thought crept in like an unwelcome whisper. Mai—her girlfriend, the one she was supposed to be with, the one she was betraying with every touch, every stolen kiss. The one who had always been steady, predictable, constant.

And yet… Azula didn’t feel guilt. 

Not really. 

Not yet.

Because right now, in this moment, under the soft patter of rain, Katara was looking at her like she was something more than anger and sharp edges. Like she was something worthy .

And Azula wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet.

“Is that really a bad thing?” asked Azula as she pressed herself a little more against Katara. 

She tried to ignore how good it felt to be so close to her, and how unfair it was that they were still both fully dressed.

“No, I guess it’s not,” whispered Katara.

The rain outside the hut grew heavier, each drop striking the wooden roof with a rhythmic insistence, a quiet reminder that the world still existed beyond this moment. Katara let out a soft sigh, tilting her head slightly to listen.

"It’s really coming down now," she murmured.

Azula smirked, her hands still resting  at Katara’s waist. 

“Unfortunately,” she said, drawing out the word with false exasperation, “that means we’re stuck together a little longer.”

Katara huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but her expression softened as her fingers drifted from Azula’s neck, along her jaw, until her hands cradled Azula’s face. Her thumbs brushed over her cheekbones.

Azula swallowed. Hard.

“Yeah,” whispered Katara, “how bad.”

And then they kissed.

It was slow, deep. Like they had all the time in the world.

Like they wanted to memorize each other, every touch, every sigh, every second that passed between them.

Azula melted into it, into the warmth of Katara’s lips, into the way their bodies fit together so perfectly it almost felt cruel. She let herself forget—for just a moment—everything else. 

Tonight it was just them.

Azula’s fingertips pressed just firmly enough to make Katara shiver beneath her touch. 

Azula wanted more.

She needed more.

She wanted all of her.

With a slow, deliberate shift of her body, she pressed forward. Even though they were already close, she wanted more—wanted to feel every inch of Katara’s body against her own. The movement wasn’t forceful, but it was possessive, unmistakably so.

In another life maybe…

Katara gasped against her lips—soft, surprised, needy. And Agni, Azula could listen to that sound all night.

In another time maybe…

A slow smirk tugged at the corners of Azula’s lips, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, drinking in the way Katara responded, the way her hands instinctively gripped at Azula’s shoulders like she needed something to hold onto.

There was something intoxicating about it, about making Katara come undone like this.

Azula tilted her head, lips trailing just slightly down to the curve of Katara’s jaw, reveling in the way Katara’s breath hitched at the contact.

“You like that,” Azula murmured against her skin, not really asking— knowing .

Katara let out a small, exasperated noise, like she wanted to deny it but couldn’t quite find the strength to. 

“You—” She cut herself off as Azula nipped lightly at her pulse. But not leaving a mark.

…you’ll be totally…

Azula chuckled, low and satisfied. “I could listen to you all night.”

The confession slipped past her lips before she could stop it, and for a moment, it hung between them, vulnerable in a way Azula wasn’t used to.

Katara’s hands tightened against Azula’s shoulders, her breathing still unsteady. And then, just as Azula thought she might say something, might call her out on the way her voice had softened—

She pulled Azula back in, kissing her like the rain could fall forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

…and undeniably…

Azula had been in control—had been winning , in a way she always did. But then Katara’s hands left her shoulder and slipped under her oversized black shirt, and everything changed.

Azula gasped, sharp and unguarded, as warm fingers traced over the bare skin of her waist, then slowly, torturously, traveled up along her spine.

Katara’s hands were so soft . So warm .

Azula shuddered at the touch, her body instinctively arching into it, betraying her usual composure. The feeling sent a slow, melting heat through her, a sensation so unfamiliar that it almost scared her.

…and completely…

Katara must have felt the way Azula’s breath hitched, because she did it again—tracing her fingers higher, pressing just lightly enough to make Azula’s stomach tighten.

Azula’s head tipped forward, her forehead resting against Katara’s shoulder as she let out a slow, uneven breath.

It felt too good.

…mine.

Like Katara wasn’t just touching her—but learning her, mapping the curves of her back with reverence, like she wanted to remember every inch of her skin.

For a moment, Azula forgot everything—who she was, what this meant, what she was risking.

She only knew Katara’s hands, the way they moved against her, the way they pulled her deeper into something she wasn’t sure she could control anymore.

And then she couldn’t take it anymore.

Azula pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her golden eyes locked onto Katara’s as a slow smirk curled at her lips. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the hem of her oversized black shirt and, with deliberate ease, peeled it off.

Azula let it drop to the wooden floor, forgotten.

She wasn’t wearing a bra either.

The cool air kissed her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Katara’s gaze.

Katara’s breath visibly caught as her eyes flickered downward, taking in the sharp definition of Azula’s abs, the way her toned body moved with effortless confidence. Azula had always been athletic, always trained harder than anyone else—not just because she was born to be the best, but because she made herself the best.

Azula had always known that she was beautiful and attractive.

She knew how people—women, and even dull men—stared at her at the gym during her training. Or even at her bar, where customers tried to catch her attention by flirting with her.

Azula never really cared. 

But here, now, with Katara looking at her like that , Azula felt something dangerously close to pride.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from teasing immediately, but Agni , she couldn’t resist for long. The moment stretched between them, Katara still staring, clearly trying not to.

Azula raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening.

"Like what you see, love?"

Katara blinked, then scowled, but the deep flush on her cheeks completely betrayed her.

 "You would say that."

Azula chuckled, leaning in just slightly, voice dropping into something lower, something teasing.

" Well? You gonna stand there blushing, or are you going to do something about it?"

She had meant it as a challenge, as a way to keep control of the moment.

But then Katara’s hands were on her again—warmer, surer, pulling her in—and Azula realized she had definitely just played herself.

Katara’s fingers ghosted over Azula’s stomach, barely touching, just the lightest brush of fingertips against smooth, warm skin. It was maddening—so little, yet it set Azula’s nerves alight like fire racing along a fuse.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but it wasn’t enough to steady her. Her body betrayed her completely, muscles tightening under Katara’s touch, her own breath coming quicker than she wanted it to.

Katara noticed.

Of course, she did.

Azula saw the flicker of realization in those sharp blue eyes, the way Katara’s lips curled ever so slightly in amusement.

Then, just as slow, just as deliberate, Katara let her fingers trace lower, skimming over the defined lines of Azula’s abs, her touch featherlight but undeniably there .

Azula’s breath hitched.

Katara’s smirk deepened. 

"So," she mused, tilting her head, feigning innocence. "Do you like what I’m doing?"

Azula narrowed her eyes, heat flashing in them, but she couldn’t even deny it. She was panting . Panting like she had just run for hours, like Katara’s hands on her skin were something she needed rather than something she could resist.

Azula was barely holding herself together as it was.

Katara’s touch had already set every nerve in her body alight, and then—then she leaned in .

The first press of Katara’s lips against her neck was soft, almost teasing, but it shattered something inside Azula. A sharp gasp escaped her lips before she could bite it back, her hands immediately flying into Katara’s hair, fingers threading through brown, curly strands.

Katara hummed against her skin, like she knew exactly what she was doing to her. And then she did it again—lips dragging lower, leaving a slow, burning trail down the column of Azula’s throat.

Azula shook .

She wasn’t new to sex, or being kissed everywhere.

But this —this slow, agonizing pace, this unbearable tenderness—this was something she had never experienced before.

Mai wasn’t really caring, or sweet during sex, and Azula never cared. She liked sex with Mai. It was good, always had been, but…

Katara moved lower, lips pressing against the sharp edge of Azula’s collarbone, lingering there, tasting her. Azula let out something close to a growl, her grip tightening in Katara’s hair, pulling her closer, demanding more.

Katara chuckled, her breath warm against Azula’s skin, before moving lower still.

Her lips skimmed the top of Azula’s chest, just above the curve of her cleavage, barely touching, just enough to drive her insane .

Azula exploded .

"Agni, Katara," she hissed, back arching instinctively, pressing herself against Katara like she could somehow fuse them together. Her breath was ragged, her entire body betraying her. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Katara pulled back just slightly, lips still hovering over her skin, and smirked.

"Well," she murmured, voice thick with amusement, " you did tell me to do something about it."

Azula didn't think. She couldn't think. Not with Katara looking at her like that, not with her lips still so close to her skin, teasing, smug, victorious.

So she did the only thing she could—she kissed her.

Hard.

It was desperate, messy, full of all the frustration, heat, and want coiling tight in her chest. Her hands fisted in Katara’s hair, tugging her in so close that there was no space left between them. She needed to feel her, all of her, needed to shut her up before she said something else that would completely unravel her.

Katara gasped into the kiss, but she didn’t pull away. No—she melted into it, let Azula take what she wanted, let her devour her.

But, of course, Katara didn’t just let Azula win.

She kissed her back just as fiercely, nails digging into Azula’s bare sides, fingers sliding over heated skin, pulling her in just as desperately.

The rain outside pounded against the hut, the storm matching the fire that burned between them. But Azula couldn’t focus on anything except Katara—her lips, her hands, the way she felt pressed against her.

Azula had started this to shut her up.

But now, she was the one who couldn’t breathe.

The heat between them was still thick, still humming in the space where their lips had just been, but then—Katara pulled back, just slightly.

Her fingers hesitated against Azula’s skin, her breath uneven, her expression uncertain in a way Azula wasn’t used to seeing.

Then, softly, almost shyly , Katara asked, "Can I…?" She trailed off, her fingers twitching against Azula’s side. "I mean, can I touch you? Like, you did to me?"

Azula blinked, caught off guard.

She hadn’t expected hesitation. She hadn’t expected this .

And Agni , she wanted to say yes . She wanted Katara’s hands on her, everywhere , wanted to feel them claim her the way she had been claiming Katara. But something about the uncertainty in Katara’s voice, the hesitance in her eyes, made Azula pause.

"You don’t have to," she said, voice quieter than before.

Katara bit her lip, glancing down, her fingers still resting on Azula’s bare waist like she wasn’t quite ready to let go. 

"I do . I just…" She hesitated, then sighed. "I’ve never—done this. I might be…" Her voice lowered, something dark flickering behind her gaze. " A bad partner ."

Azula stilled.

For all the teasing, for all the fire and challenge between them, this—this moment—was real . A crack in the walls Katara usually kept up.

Slowly, deliberately, Azula reached out and took Katara’s chin between her fingers, tilting her face up so their eyes met.

Her grip was gentle, but firm.

"You’re not ," Azula said, her voice steady, certain in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

Katara swallowed, her breath shallow, her lips barely parted.

Azula held her gaze, her thumb brushing over the curve of Katara’s jaw. 

"You couldn’t be," she murmured, softer now, like a secret only meant for them.

For once, she wasn’t teasing.

She meant it.

Katara didn’t answer right away.

Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressing together like she wanted to believe Azula—like she needed to—but couldn’t quite let herself.

Azula saw it, the doubt creeping in, the hesitation tightening Katara’s fingers against her waist.

She hated it.

So, she leaned in, closing the space between them, her breath warm against Katara’s ear as she whispered—

"Right now, I wouldn’t want anything but you."

Katara shivered.

Azula felt it, the way her body tensed, then melted, like the words had unraveled something deep inside her.

Slowly, Katara pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes wide, searching. 

"You mean that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azula held her gaze, steady, unwavering.

"Yes."

That was all it took.

Something shifted—Katara’s doubt, her hesitation—gone in an instant.

And then, she kissed her.

Not desperate, not rushed—just deep, slow, and certain .

And this time, when Katara’s hands moved over Azula’s skin, she didn’t hesitate.

Katara's hands were gentle, but steady as they moved over Azula’s body, tracing over every inch of skin as though she was memorizing it. Every touch was slow, deliberate, and it sent waves of heat washing over Azula, leaving her breathless, her heart thudding against her chest.

Azula’s breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping her as Katara’s fingers brushed over the sensitive curve of her ribs. Her body reacted instinctively, muscles tensing, skin prickling under Katara’s touch. Her heart skipped a beat, then another.

Katara paused, her hands still resting against Azula’s skin, her voice soft and a little teasing. "Do you like this?"

Azula tried to steady herself, tried to keep her voice from betraying her, but it was impossible. The way Katara’s hands felt on her, the way her fingers glided over her, it was like nothing Azula had ever experienced.

She swallowed, taking a breath that came out far too shaky, her lips parting slightly as she finally managed to answer, “Yes… yes .”

It was all she could manage, her chest rising and falling quickly with every breath she took, trying desperately to keep herself from panting, from letting the desperate want slip through.

But then Katara’s hand slid lower, and ghosted around the waistband of her shorts and finally, damn it, finally got under it, and finger touched her there, just right there . Azula couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped her, her fingers tightening in Katara’s hair, pulling her closer again.

She was already so wet.

So ready for her.

So, so much.

Katara’s fingers lingered there, tracing the sensitive clit again, then again, in a slow, almost teasing rhythm. Azula’s eyes fluttered shut, her hands gripping Katara’s shoulders tightly, like she was grounding herself to something solid in this wave of sensation.

She couldn’t keep still. She couldn’t hold back.

With a low, broken sound in her throat, Azula buried her face in the curve of Katara’s neck, her body trembling as she let herself go, losing control. She wanted to resist it, wanted to hold on to the last shred of her composure, but Katara’s touch— that touch —pulled it all away.

Every inch of her was alive, on fire, and Katara knew it .

"Katara," Azula breathed against her neck, voice raw and desperate. 

Katara’s fingers never slowed, just kept caressing, finding that spot again and again, pushing Azula to the edge of something she wasn’t sure she could come back from.

And yet, she didn’t want to. Not now. Not with Katara holding her like this.

Azula’s body was trembling, each pulse of heat radiating through her like wildfire. Katara’s touch was driving her to the brink of something she couldn’t even name—every brush of her fingers, every movement, it felt like it was unraveling her, piece by piece.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her hands gripping Katara more desperately, like she was trying to hold herself together. The tension coiled tight in her chest, but there was no way to stop it. No way to stop her body from reacting, from wanting, needing more.

Azula wanted to bite. She wanted to sink her teeth into Katara’s neck, to claim her like she had been claimed, to mark her in a way that only Azula could. But she couldn’t. 

She hated it. She hated that she couldn’t take what she wanted.

Her head spun, her thoughts scattered. There was no coherent thought, just feeling —too much feeling, too much desire. She was so close to losing herself in it, in Katara, in the touch that had reduced her to this trembling mess.

And then—she came, her mouth parted, but no sound escaped.

For a brief, breathless moment, there was only silence.

Azula’s chest heaved, and she tried to gather herself, but the tension had already done its damage. Her pulse was wild, her body aching for more.

Katara pulled back just enough to look at her, her expression a mixture of hesitation and something softer—shyer. 

"Azula," she whispered, her voice uncertain. "Was ... was this okay?"

Azula’s heart skipped a beat at the question, at the vulnerability in Katara’s tone.

It was like the question itself pierced through her fog of need, and Azula’s mouth curved into something lazy, something predatory.

With a low, slow chuckle, Azula kissed her, not urgently, but with a languid intensity that spoke volumes. It was lazy at first—her lips pressing against Katara’s with a warmth that felt good , slow, unhurried. Her fingers found their way to Katara’s jaw, cupping her face, pulling her closer, making the kiss deepen just a fraction.

She didn’t answer Katara’s question in words. She answered with the kiss, with the way her body pressed against Katara’s, with the way her breath came in soft pants against her lips.

Azula wasn’t sure she had words to explain how good this felt. How much she didn’t want it to stop.

How much she wanted to do it, again, and again, and again…

They pulled away from each other, just enough to catch their breath, both of them panting, faces flushed, bodies still humming with the heat they’d ignited. Azula’s eyes were half-lidded, the world spinning around her, yet it was Katara— just Katara —who brought her back, grounding her.

She felt Katara’s fingers against her skin, soft and almost apologetic, but Azula didn’t need that right now. What she needed was to feel Katara, to stay in this moment, so she closed the space between them again.

Their lips met once more, this time even slower, more deliberate, the kiss languid and sweet as if they had all the time in the world. It was lazy, soft, with an undeniable tenderness that Azula wasn’t used to, but found she didn’t want to pull away from.

Katara’s lips moved against hers with that same gentle insistence, a contrast to the fire that burned between them. Azula let herself get lost in it, feeling every brush of Katara’s lips, every tiny shift in their kiss. Her fingers slid back into Katara’s hair, tangling there, pulling her closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

It was like they had all the time in the world, but even that couldn’t stop the desperate pull they had for each other. They kissed again, and again, both of them letting the world fade away into nothing but the quiet urgency of their connection. No words. No plans. Just the feel of skin on skin, breath on breath, heartbeats against heartbeats.

And in this slow, lazy kiss, Azula realized she never wanted it to end

As their lips parted, the silence between them felt heavier than before, almost unnatural. Katara’s voice broke through the haze, soft but clear.

“The rain’s stopped,” she said.

Azula’s breath caught, her chest still rising and falling quickly from the intensity of everything they’d just shared. But the words landed like a stone in her stomach.

The rain had stopped.

And so, it was time to stop pretending.

Azula’s hands slowly slid away from Katara’s body, the warmth between them beginning to fade as the reality crept back in. She turned her face away, her throat tightening as she gathered the fragments of herself that had scattered in the haze of their intimacy.

Katara’s hand rested lightly on her arm, a gentle, hesitant touch, as if she sensed the shift in the air.

Azula swallowed hard.

“I should, probably go,” breathed Katara.

“Sure.”

But none of them moved.

Azula's fingers traced along the strap of Katara's dress, teasing it with slow, deliberate movements. She gently slid the strap off Katara's shoulder, the fabric slipping softly as her fingers lingered, sending a shiver down Katara’s spine. Leaning in, Azula pressed a kiss to the exposed skin where the strap had been, her lips warm and soft against the curve of Katara’s shoulder.

Katara let out a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper, “Azula…” Her hands gripped Azula’s arms, but the words she spoke next were almost reluctant. “We really need to leave now.”

Azula’s lips lingered on Katara’s shoulder, warm and tender, before trailing upward, brushing lightly against her skin as she kissed her neck. Each press of her lips was slow, intentional, savoring the moment, the closeness. Katara’s breath hitched, her body instinctively leaning into Azula’s touch, feeling the heat of her proximity.

Azula’s fingers gently cupped Katara’s jaw, guiding her face toward hers. Their eyes met for a brief, charged moment, before Azula closed the distance, kissing her softly at first—almost questioning—before the kiss deepened, their lips melding together in a slow, desperate rhythm, both of them caught in the pull of the moment.

Katara remained pressed against the wall, her breath still unsteady from their shared closeness. Azula stood a few steps away, her eyes fixed on her, the moment between them hanging in the air.

"Do you want to leave the garden hut first?" Azula asked, her voice quiet, yet edged with something deeper, a question beneath the surface.

Katara’s gaze softened, her lips curving into a small, almost uncertain smile. "I... I want to stay a little longer," she whispered, her voice barely above the sound of the rain.

Azula raised an eyebrow, a faint frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

"What about Lu Ten?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. "Won't he notice you're gone?"

Katara let out a small laugh, the sound light but with a hint of mischief.

 "He’s had too much champagne," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "He’s dead asleep."

Azula's frown deepened for a brief moment before she looked away, trying to hide the flicker of something unfamiliar in her eyes. She wasn’t sure why she cared.

Azula hesitated, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to stay with her, just a little longer—so badly, so desperately.

Azula finally turned away from Katara, her heart heavy with something she couldn’t quite place. But before closing the door, she glanced back at her.

“I don’t get why you said you’d be a bad partner, or who even told you that,” she said to Katara. “You’re absolutely good at it.”

Katara smiled softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Really?”

Azula’s lips curled into a small smile.

“Did you hear me complain?”

Katara bit her bottom lip. Azula wanted to reach out, to kiss those tentative lips without thinking.

But… they had said it would be just tonight, just this once.
It would never happen again.

“I, hum, I’ve never had sex with girls before ... .just boys,” said Katara pensively.

“Then maybe, you’re meant to be gay,” smirked Azula.

Katara blushed, and shook her head.

“I’ve never been attracted to a girl before…” and she hesitated before locking her blue eyes with her, “you.”

And Azula's chest tightened.

And she wanted to die.

She wanted to tease her, to tell her that she seemed more into women than she was willing to admit. But… it would be pointless.

Azula had a girlfriend.

Katara was engaged.

"Guess I should go," she finally said, her tone light. "And don’t worry, I’ll still be cruel to you. No one will suspect a thing."

She caught a glimpse of Katara rolling her eyes before the door shut. Azula leaned against it for a moment, gathering herself, before stepping into the wet garden. The ground was soft beneath her feet, and the rain murmured softly around her, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Every step felt like a quiet goodbye, even though she hadn't wanted to leave.

She didn’t head back to the manor, though. Instead, she made her way to the kiosk, the place she had shared with Katara earlier in the day. 

She settled against one of the columns, the cold night air pressing against her skin as she pulled out a cigarette. The flick of the lighter broke the silence, and the smoke curled upward, blending with the mist that had begun to settle over the garden.

The stars were brilliant above her, dotting the sky with cold, distant light. For a moment, she just stared at them, her mind empty, the night stretching endlessly around her. The silence felt suffocating, but not in the way she thought it would. It was peaceful, yes—but in a way that made her feel more alone than ever before.

She took a long drag from the cigarette, her chest rising and falling with each slow inhale. The burn in her lungs was sharp, but it did little to quell the tightening in her chest.

Another drag, and then a shaky exhale.

As the smoke left her mouth and drifted away, she realized something. Tears had silently fallen from her eyes. Now, they flowed freely, mixing with the cool air. Her breath caught. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming.

She didn’t know why she was crying, or why it hurt this much. But in that moment, she didn’t care to understand. 

She just let herself feel it.

Chapter Text

Katara woke up to an empty bed, the sheets still warm where Lu Ten had lain beside her. The space now void of his presence felt heavier than it should have. She sighed, staring up at the ornate ceiling of their shared bedroom, but the weight in her chest only grew. The distant murmur of conversation and clinking dishes from the courtyard told her he was already having breakfast with his family.

Of course he was. Lu Ten had always been a morning person. She wasn’t.

But this morning, it wasn’t just exhaustion that made her slow to rise. It was the guilt, thick and choking, pooling in the pit of her stomach like lead. She shut her eyes, willing herself to forget, but the moment she did, last night came rushing back with terrifying clarity.

Azula.

Her name alone was enough to make her breath hitch.

The way she had looked at her, the intensity in her golden eyes burning like an open flame. The taste of her lips, the sharp press of her nails against her skin, the way her voice had dripped venom and desire in equal measure. Katara’s fingers curled into the sheets, as if trying to ground herself, but all she could feel was Azula’s hands ghosting over her body, exploring, claiming.

I do hate you, darling. I truly, deeply, hate you.

Katara had never been hated before.

Not like that. Not by someone like her.

When she had first met Azula, the other woman had wasted no time in making her disdain known. She had told Katara, coldly, cruelly, that she was nothing but a fragile doll—a plaything Lu Ten would eventually toss aside. The words had stung, sharper than she wanted to admit.

She hadn’t told Lu Ten.

She hadn’t told him when Azula had nearly kissed her in the dim lighting of the bar office.

She hadn’t told him when Azula had found her undressed in their bedroom, cornering her against the wall, voice thick with anger, with longing, with something Katara hadn’t been able to name. Azula had spoken of Mai then, her first love, her everything.

And yet, last night, it wasn’t Mai’s name Azula had whispered against her skin.

Katara’s stomach twisted violently, nausea rising. She sat up abruptly, the dizziness making her sway. She had no answers. She didn’t understand herself.

She shouldn’t have gone to her.

She shouldn’t have kissed her back.

She shouldn’t have let herself want her.

But she had.

Katara stumbled out of bed, her movements frantic, driven by instinct more than thought. The cool tile of the bathroom floor barely registered beneath her feet as she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet.

Her fingers trembled as she forced them into her mouth, desperate to purge herself of last night, of the feelings still clawing at her insides.

But no matter how much she emptied herself, she knew it would never be enough.

Azula was still there, under her skin, in her blood. And she didn't know how to rid herself of her.

.

.

.

Katara took a deep breath before stepping into the grand living room. Her long, curly hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore a short, floral yellow dress that felt light against her skin. Despite the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the large windows, there was an undeniable weight settling in her chest.

The family was already awake, gathered around the breakfast table. The household staff moved seamlessly between them, setting down plates and refilling cups. Ursa, regal as ever, offered her a kind smile as soon as their eyes met. Across the table, Kiyi was animatedly showing something on her phone to Iroh, who raised an unimpressed brow.

She didn’t see her parents, they were probably still sleeping. They weren’t morning people either.

Zuko, sipping his black coffee, smirked as he noticed her arrival. "Look who finally decided to join the land of the living."

Katara rolled her eyes as she sat down next to Lu Ten who was looking at his phone. 

"Not everyone thrives on getting up at the crack of dawn, Zuko," she sighed.

Jet, who was lounging beside Zuko with an easy grin, leaned in slightly. "You'll adapt. This family has a way of getting under your skin."

Before she could respond, Lu Ten pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. 

"I have to take this call," he murmured, already moving away.

She usually would have been annoyed—he never seemed to take the time for a proper breakfast—but today, she only nodded. She wasn’t sure she could meet his eyes anyway.

I hate myself

A domestic worker approached her. "Miss Katara, what would you like to drink?"

Katara blinked. She still wasn’t used to this level of service. Her upbringing had been modest, her family always valuing simplicity. The idea of being waited on felt strange. 

"Tea, please," she said, her voice more hesitant than she liked.

As she settled into her chair, her gaze drifted toward the large open window that led to the terrace. The soft morning breeze carried the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Outside, leaning against the balustrade, was Azula.

Katara’s heart jumped.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Azula was beautiful.

She wasn’t dressed up, not even a little. Just jeans and a black shirt, a golden chain resting against her collarbone. Her dark hair was swept into a messy bun, a few strands falling loose. It was effortless. She was stunning. It was unfair.

Katara was still staring when the domestic returned, setting her tea down in front of her. She startled slightly at the clink of the cup against the saucer, embarrassed by how caught off guard she was. Before she could gather herself, laughter drifted in from outside.

She recognized this voice.

It was her mother.

Katara turned to see her mother, sitting in her wheelchair, talking with Azula. The sight was unexpected. Her mother had always been warm, always welcoming, but seeing her in easy conversation with Azula was something else entirely.

Instinctively, Katara rose from her chair and walked toward the terrace. Azula noticed her first. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Azula didn’t greet her. Didn’t acknowledge her beyond a slow inhale of her cigarette, the glow of the ember briefly illuminating her face.

"Good morning, sweetheart," her mother greeted, breaking the silence. 

Katara tore her gaze away from Azula and bent down to kiss her mother’s head.

"Morning, Mom. You’re up early."

"Azula has been keeping me company," her mother said warmly. "We were just talking about—"

"I was just leaving," Azula cut in abruptly.

Katara glanced back at her, but Azula was already pushing away from the railing. She stubbed out her cigarette, hands slipping into her pockets as she turned. Not a word. Not a glance back.

Katara shouldn’t have cared. But she did.

She watched Azula disappear inside, hating the tiny flicker of disappointment curling in her chest.

“Hope she didn’t be rude to you,” mumbled Katara.

“Rude?” repeated her mother as she frowned her eyebrow. “No, not at all, she’s a sweet girl.”

Katara blinked and thought that her mother had probably fallen on her head this morning, because Azula wasn’t anything but sweet!

Well, she had been last night, right?

"But…She doesn’t seem like a very happy girl," her mother added softly.

Katara frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her mother sighed, gazing out at the morning sky. "Did you notice? Ursa hugged you. Kissed you. But her own daughter? Not once."

Katara stilled.

She thought back. Tried to remember….

Oh.

Her mother was right.

She hadn’t noticed before.

But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

.

.

.

Katara sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window as the city lights blurred past. The hum of the engine filled the silence, but her focus was on the phone pressed to her ear.

"Just let me know when you and Dad are home, okay?" she said softly.

Her mother’s voice was warm but tired. "Katara, sweetheart, we’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry so much."

Katara bit her lip. She knew she was being clingy, but ever since the cancer had come back—worse this time—she couldn’t help it. The idea of being away from her mother for too long made her chest tighten.

"I know, I just... I just want to be sure."

"I promise, I’ll call you. Now go enjoy your day."

With reluctance, Katara ended the call. She sighed, rubbing her temple, trying to push away the ever-present worry clawing at her.

A warm hand settled on her knee.

She turned slightly to see Lu Ten, his eyes still on the road, offering her a small, reassuring squeeze. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture was clear. Comfort. Support.

She knew he meant well, and yet—

A memory flashed in her mind, unbidden. Azula’s hands. Soft, warm. The way they had lingered, even for just a moment. The contrast sent a rush of heat through her, followed immediately by nausea curling in her stomach.

Not now. Not here.

She forced herself to breathe steadily, schooling her face into neutrality.

"Katara," Lu Ten’s voice broke through her thoughts. His tone was careful, almost hesitant. "I need to tell you something."

She turned fully to him, the unease in his voice setting her on edge. "What is it?"

He gave her an apologetic smile. "I have a business trip tomorrow."

Katara blinked. "What? Again?"

"I know," he sighed. "I’m sorry. It’s just—this deal is important, and I have to be there in person."

"For how long?"

There was a pause before he admitted, "A week."

A week.

Katara stared at him, a knot tightening in her chest. He had been leaving a lot lately. Work, business, obligations—always something keeping him away. And normally, she would just let it go. But right now, with everything happening, with her mother, with... Azula—

She swallowed hard, forcing down the words she wanted to say.

Instead, she looked back out the window, her voice quieter this time. "Okay."

Lu Ten sighed again, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her knee, but the warmth didn’t reach her.

.

.

.

Katara sat in the hospital break room, fingers curled around a lukewarm cup of coffee. The scent was comforting, even if the taste wasn’t. She unlocked her phone, checking for any updates from her father.

Dad : "She’s fine, sweetheart. Just really tired."

Katara exhaled slowly, relief tinged with lingering worry. Tired was better than worse. But still, it wasn’t good.

Her wedding was in October. It was the only way she and Lu Ten could both be truly happy—she wanted a winter wedding, and he wanted a summer one.

So, yeah, her wedding was in October, and Katara was afraid her mother wouldn’t make it…

Nausea rose again.

She thought about the toilet.

People could hear her there. She had to wait until she got home.

She was about to take another sip when the door swung open with unnecessary force.

"There she is! The future bride!" Suki announced dramatically, striding in like she owned the place.

Katara groaned. "Oh, spirits. You really have to make an entrance everytime?"

Suki plopped down beside her, immediately stealing the untouched muffin from Katara’s tray. 

"Of course babe, and you should be basking in the glow of impending marital bliss!"

Katara gave her a flat look. "I should be finishing my coffee."

"Same thing," Suki said through a mouthful of muffin. Then, after swallowing, she leaned back and sighed. "I’m really sorry again for missing the engagement party. I felt terrible."

Katara shrugged, stirring her coffee absently. "It’s fine. You had work."

"Still." Suki nudged her with her elbow. "It’s not every day my best friend marries a rich man!"

"Suki!" Katara sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"What? Lu Ten is fucking rich—his first name is literally King , for fuck’s sake!"

Katara bit the inside of her cheek. She knew Suki didn’t actually think she was marrying her fiancé for his money. She was going to marry him because he was a good man, he made her laugh, and it would make her mother so happy to see her in a beautiful wedding dress.

Katara was planning to surprise her and wear her mother's wedding dress.

"So, what’s on your thrilling agenda tonight?"

Katara yawned. "Eating. Sleeping."

Suki made a dramatic gagging sound. "That’s pathetic. Come out with me. Ember Glow."

Katara nearly choked on her coffee. "Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"Suki, that’s Azula’s bar."

"Oh, relax. It’s not like she owns the air inside it." Suki grinned. "And more importantly, they have great drinks and great music. Also..." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Ty Lee is working tonight."

Katara blinked, processing that. "Wait—Ty Lee? As in, Ty Lee who is Azula friend? You have a crush on her?"

Suki rolled her eyes. "Wow, thanks for making me feel super normal about it."

Katara shook her head. "I just— I didn’t know you liked her . "

"She’s cute, she’s flirty, and I think she might be into me. So yes, I’d like to test that theory. And you are coming with me for moral support."

Katara hesitated. She should say no. She had no business walking into Azula’s bar. And yet...

There was a part of her. A small, insistent part that she tried to ignore.

She sighed. "Fine. But just one drink."

Suki grinned victoriously. "That’s my girl."

Katara rolled her eyes, watching as Suki stretched before turning to her.

"By the way, was Azula being a total cow to you again at your engagement party?"

Katara fought the urge to blush, to flinch, to let anything show. She did her best to lie—right to her best friend’s face.

"Yeah. Like always. She totally hates me."

.

.

.

Suki and Katara stood at the entrance of Ember Glow, the neon lights casting a warm glow over the buzzing crowd inside. The bass from the music thrummed through the pavement beneath their feet.

Suki turned to Katara suddenly. "Smell my breath."

Katara recoiled. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! Just tell me if I need gum or something before I talk to Ty Lee."

"Suki, I love you, but I draw the line at inhaling whatever you had for lunch."

Suki huffed but popped a piece of gum into her mouth anyway. "Fine. Let’s do this."

They stepped inside, and the bar was packed. The air smelled like citrusy cocktails, sweat, and something vaguely smoky. Katara followed Suki through the sea of people, dodging a few enthusiastic dancers before reaching the bar.

It was a gay bar.

Not her first.

She had accompanied Suki to this kind of bar plenty of times.

Katara had always loved the atmosphere—people here were nice, there were no troublemakers, and when a woman flirted with her… well, even though she was straight, she never actually hated it.

Nausea crept back.

Stronger.

Fuck.

Katara knew where the toilets were. And the music was loud. No one would hear her here.

But Ty Lee was already there, shaking up a drink, her usual bright smile on display. The moment she spotted Suki, her grin widened. 

"Hey, you!"

Katara watched as her best friend, usually so confident, immediately turned into a mess.

"Hi! I mean, hey! Um. You look—this bar looks—uh, busy. I mean, good. You look good, too. I mean—not that I was looking-looking, but—"

Katara covered her face with her hands. This was painful to watch.

Ty Lee giggled. "You want a drink, Suki?"

"Yes! No! I mean—what do you recommend? Besides water. Obviously. I mean, I do drink water, but—"

Katara groaned. "She’ll have whatever you think is best."

As Ty Lee happily started mixing a cocktail, Katara turned her head—and then, she saw her .

Azula.

She was behind the bar, effortlessly making a drink. Dressed in all black, a cropped top revealing toned abs, fitted jeans, and her signature gold chain glinting under the dim lights. She looked completely in her element, sharp and composed—

And she was smiling.

At Mai.

Katara felt her stomach drop.

Mai leaned in close, her dark hair framing her pale face, her expression unreadable as always. But then Azula smirked, leaned down, and—

Kissed her.

Fucking kissed her.

Just right there.

Just because she could.

Just because Mai was her actual, real, legitimate girlfriend.

Katara quickly turned her head away, forcing herself to breathe. The sound of the bar faded to a dull hum in her ears.

She wanted to go to the toilet so freaking much. Damn it. 

"I need air," she muttered to Suki.

Without waiting for a response, she pushed through the crowd and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her face as she inhaled deeply.

Get it together, Katara. You’re engaged. To a wonderful man. 

A moment later, Suki appeared next to her, looking concerned. "Hey. What’s wrong?"

Katara forced a small, unconvincing smile. "Nothing. I think I’m coming down with something. I should probably head home."

Suki frowned, clearly not buying it. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Katara swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Suki hesitated but eventually nodded. "Alright. Text me when you get home."

Katara nodded back, turning away quickly before Suki could ask any more questions.

Because she didn’t have any answers—not for her, and definitely not for herself.

.

.

.

Katara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep evading her no matter how many times she shifted under the sheets. Her mind was too loud, thoughts tangled and unrelenting. She sighed, rolling over to grab her phone, hoping for a distraction.

A message pinged in.

She blinked, expecting Lu Ten.

But it wasn’t him.

Unknown Number: So you come to my bar and don’t even say hello? How impolite of you. 🙄

Katara’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened around the phone.

Azula.

It was Azula.

She hesitated before typing back.

Katara: How did you get my number?

The response was immediate.

Azula: That’s not your business. 🤷‍♀️

Katara sat up, gripping the phone tighter. Seriously?

Katara: Of course it is! You can’t just text me like that Azula!

Azula: I can and I did. 😏

Her jaw clenched.

Katara: You are absolutely insufferable.

Azula: And yet, you’re still texting me back. Interesting.

Katara exhaled sharply, fingers hovering over her keyboard. She should stop. She should block her. She should—

Azula: What was it that made you leave in such a hurry? The crowd? The music? The sight of me kissing Mai?"

Katara’s pulse spiked. Did…did she notice her staring at them? 

Katara: Drop it.

Azula: Drop what? I have no idea what you mean.🤔

Katara’s fingers trembled as she typed.

Katara: I swear, if you’re playing some stupid game...

Azula: Oh, Katara. If I were playing a game, you’d know. You’d feel it.

Katara’s breath hitched. Her stomach twisted, nausea creeping up again.

She wanted to die.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. What happened in the garden hut with Azula was a mistake. A moment of insanity. A thing that would never, ever happen again.

And yet—

Her phone buzzed again.

Azula: You think about it too, don’t you?

Katara felt the air leave her lungs. Her thumbs hovered over the screen. She needed to end this. Now.

Katara: No. I don’t.

Azula: Oh…too bad. Because I’m thinking about it.

Her stomach lurched.

Azula: I think about it. All the fucking time.

Katara shut her eyes. She couldn’t do this. Not again.

Katara: Please don’t text me again. Like you said, it was just one time. Just once. I just…

She stared at the words, hesitated—then rewrote them.

Katara: Don’t text me ever again.

She backed out of the chat, went straight to her contacts, and found Lu Ten’s name. Her hands were shaking as she typed.

Katara: Thinking about you. Want to tell you how much I love you.

She stared at the screen, willing herself to feel normal again. But the sickness in her gut only grew stronger.

She barely made it to the bathroom before shutting the door behind her, lifted the toilet seat, and shoved her fingers down her throat.

.

.

.

Katara sat in her cozy room, the soft glow of her lamp reflecting in her eyes as she propped her phone on the stand. The familiar ringtone rang, signaling that Lu Ten was calling. A smile immediately spread across her face, her heart lightening as she swiped to answer.

“Hey, handsome!” she greeted, her voice warm and affectionate.

Lu Ten’s face appeared on the screen, his dark hair slightly messy from a long day of work. His grin was infectious. 

“Hey, beautiful! I’ve got a story for you,” he said, adjusting the camera angle so she could see him more clearly.

Katara laughed softly, her eyes softening. 

“I’m all ears,” she replied, settling into her chair and making herself comfortable.

Lu Ten began recounting his latest misadventure during a business trip. He was always good at making her laugh—whether it was through his witty remarks or his exaggerated expressions. This time, he was telling her about how his colleague had mistakenly sent him an email meant for their boss, full of nonsensical jargon and random emojis.

Katara chuckled, shaking her head. 

“Only you could get an email like that,” she teased, her laughter filling the quiet room.

As she laughed, Katara’s phone buzzed on the desk beside her, the vibration breaking her concentration for a brief moment. She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse quickened. It was a message from Azula.

Azula : Hey love.

Katara’s heart missed a beat.

Azula : What are you doing? 

Katara’s smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. She returned her attention to Lu Ten, who was still talking animatedly. 

“That’s hilarious,” she said, though her mind was no longer fully with him.

Lu Ten’s eyes narrowed slightly, noticing her shift in energy. 

“You okay, Katara?” he asked, his voice softening with concern.

Katara forced a laugh, her fingers twitching as she reached for her phone, trying to swipe the message away without Lu Ten noticing.

“Yeah, just a colleague asking me to cover for them,” she lied, her tone casual.

Lu Ten raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced. “A colleague? What, are they too busy to do their own work? You need to stop helping everyone out, Katara. Some people are just lazy.” He grinned, but there was a hint of playful annoyance in his words.

Katara nodded, trying to hide her nervousness. 

“I know, I know,” she replied, her voice distracted. “But they’re going through a tough time. I don’t mind.”

Still, the tension in her chest didn’t loosen. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that Azula’s presence always brought. As Lu Ten continued talking about his frustration with lazy coworkers, Katara’s phone buzzed again. She dared a glance at it.

Another message.

Azula : Don’t ignore me, Katara. 

Katara’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes darted quickly between the screen and the phone, her thoughts racing. She had to think of something to get out of this conversation with Lu Ten, something that didn’t sound suspicious.

“I… I’m so sorry, Lu Ten, but I have to take care of something,” Katara said suddenly, her voice apologetic. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, alright? I need to—um, I forgot I have a meeting with a colleague, actually.”

Lu Ten blinked in confusion but nodded. “Alright, Katara. Take care of yourself. We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon,” Katara said quickly, ending the call before he could ask any more questions.

Her heart raced as she immediately began typing a response to Azula.

Katara : Wtf? Leave me alone, Azula. I don’t have time for your games right now. And I told you to never ever text me again! 😠

She hit send, hoping the message would put a stop to Azula’s relentless pursuit. But Azula was never one to back down easily. The reply came within seconds.

Azula : Well….you didn’t block me, it means you didn’t actually mind me to text you..

Katara’s stomach twisted, and she quickly typed again.

Katara : I mind, Azula . I’m serious. Stop texting me . 😤

Azula : Oh, Katara, don’t be so uptight. It’s cute how you try to act so innocent. But we both know what’s going on, don’t we? 

Katara froze, feeling the sting of Azula’s words. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the growing panic in her chest. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she tried to think of something that would get Azula off her back.

Before she could respond, Azula sent another message.

Azula : You’ll see. He’s not the one for you, Katara. I’ve always known that. 

Katara felt the sting of those words like a slap across her face. Her fingers hovered over the screen, her thoughts swirling. Azula’s messages were starting to get under her skin, and the quiet rage bubbling inside her found an outlet in her next message.

Katara : And then what, Azula? Mai isn’t the one for you either? 

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, a small sense of satisfaction rising in her chest. It was a cheap shot, but it felt like the right thing to say. She wasn’t the only one to have made a mistake in this.

Azula’s reply was immediate, as always.

Azula : Don't fucking bring Mai into this. 

Katara’s jaw clenched. Azula had crossed a line before, but this—this felt different. Her irritation bubbled up, and she fired back with a sharp response, her fingers flying across the screen.

Katara : Why not? She’s your girlfriend, after all. Seems like you’re still hung up on her. 😒

Her heart was racing now, and she felt a surge of defiance. If Azula thought she could make Katara feel guilty or threatened, she was mistaken. Katara wasn’t going to let Azula control the narrative.

The reply from Azula came almost immediately, colder and more cutting than before.

Azula : Still hung up on her? Wow, do I feel jealousy love?

Katara felt her pulse quicken, the heat of her own anger rising. She wasn’t backing down now.

Katara : Jealous? Why would I even be jealous? I have a fiancé. 

She hit send with a sharp exhale, her fingers trembling slightly as she waited for a response. The seconds dragged on, stretching the tension thick between them.

Finally, Azula's message arrived.

Azula : A fiancé? Yeah right you have a fucking fiancé but that didn’t stop you from fucking me on the night of your engagement party.

Katara stared at the screen, stunned. Azula was making it seem like it was her fault—like she was the one who had flirted first, the one who had tempted her first.

Katara : You fucked me too…and you liked it.

Azula didn’t text again.

The silence on both ends was deafening.

.

.

.

It was a warm July Sunday, the kind of summer day that felt like it could stretch on forever. The sun shone brightly, casting a golden glow over the garden as the scent of sizzling food drifted through the air. Katara stood outside the familiar house, her heart swelling with the comfort of tradition. It had been a while since Lu Ten had been able to join her for Sunday lunch, and she was glad to have him back after his business trip.

Her father was already at the grill, happily flipping skewers of meat and vegetables, his laughter booming in the yard as he chatted with Lu Ten. Katara smiled, watching them bond, the easy camaraderie between them making her heart swell with affection. It had always been like this at Sunday lunches. Once upon a time when she was little, when everything was still fine—her father, cooking, talking, laughing; her mother, relaxing in the sun; and her brother Sokka, who was always the loudest at the table, bringing his own jokes and energy.

But today, as the heat of the sun kissed her skin, Katara's mind couldn't help but wander to that empty space at the table.

Her mother was sitting in her wheelchair, soaking up the sun on the patio, her eyes closed in quiet relaxation. Katara walked over to her with a smile, leaning down to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“Mom, I’m going to find a hat for you,” Katara said, already knowing the response.

Her mother opened one eye and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t need a hat, Katara. The sun feels nice.”

Katara didn't listen. She was already walking toward the house, knowing exactly where to go to find one of the wide-brimmed hats her mother always used when she insisted on sunbathing.

In the bedroom, the scent of familiar linens filled the air, and Katara felt a pang in her chest as she looked around. Her parents' room had always been a quiet sanctuary, and today, it felt unusually still. Her eyes landed on a picture frame on the nightstand.

It was a photo of her and Sokka.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she immediately felt the weight of the image. The picture was one from when they were younger—a snapshot of a summer day, before the world had changed. Sokka had been her protector, her confidante, and now... now he was just a memory, a hole in the fabric of everything. She could still hear his laughter, his teasing voice, the way he'd always been so full of life.

A lump formed in Katara’s throat, and for a moment, she simply stood there, the photograph pressed in her hands, staring at her brother's face.

He should have been here, she thought bitterly. He should have been here to meet Lu Ten, to tease him just like he always teased her boyfriends. He should’ve had his own life, his own family. And yet, all she had left were the pieces of him—his smile, his spirit, forever absent.

A tear rolled down Katara's cheek, unbidden. She quickly wiped it away, her hand shaking slightly. She had learned long ago that tears would get her nowhere, not when the world felt so unfair.

“Why couldn’t you stay?” she whispered, but there was no answer, just the quiet hum of the house around her. “Why wasn't it me?”

She felt another tear threaten to fall but blinked it away. Her breath steadied as she looked at the photo one last time before placing it gently back on the nightstand. The sound of Lu Ten calling her name broke her from her reverie.

"Katara!" His voice carried from the garden, warm and inviting.

She quickly grabbed the wide-brimmed hat from her mother’s dresser and returned to the patio, her heart still heavy, but her face pulling into a smile as she stepped outside to rejoin her family.

Her mother looked up at her, giving a knowing smile as Katara placed the hat on her head.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” Katara said softly, her voice thick with the remnants of her earlier emotions, but she pushed them down. Today was for family, for  Lu Ten, for them. Today was for remembering how much she was loved, even when it didn’t feel like it.

Lu Ten was talking to her father, and Katara could hear their laughter mixing with the sizzle of the barbecue. She joined them, her eyes lingering on the empty chair next to her mother.

She glanced at her mother and wished she could have a hundred Sunday lunches with her.

She wished it with all her heart.

.

.

.

Katara was eight years old when she first visited her big brother Sokka in the hospital. She didn’t understand much of what her parents had tried to explain—words like cancer sounded too big, too complicated. All she knew was that Sokka would be very tired from now on and that he needed all their support.

But what did that even mean? Would he stop playing with her? Would he stop being Sokka ?

Her father had told her to pick out a plushie for him—something to keep him company. She took the job very seriously, wandering the toy aisle with deep concentration before finally choosing a dinosaur. Sokka loved dinosaurs. He once told her he was going to be a paleontologist, and she didn’t know what that was, but it sounded important. If she brought him a dinosaur, maybe it would help. Maybe he’d feel better.

When they entered his hospital room, Katara’s grip tightened around the plushie. Sokka sat up in bed, his head wrapped in a thick bandage, looking smaller than she remembered. He looked tired, just like their parents had said. But when he saw her, he still gave her that big Sokka grin.

“Katara!” he greeted, his voice a little scratchy. “Did you bring me something?”

Katara hurried to his bedside, practically shoving the dinosaur into his arms. “It’s for you! It’s a dinosaur!”

Sokka gasped dramatically, holding it up like a treasure. “Whoa. You brought me a real-life dinosaur? I knew you were powerful, but this? This is next level.”

Katara blinked. “It’s real?”

“Obviously.” Sokka nodded solemnly. “But don’t worry. I’ll protect you from it if it tries to escape.”

Katara’s eyes went wide. “You promise?”

“Of course! I’m your big brother. That’s my job.”

She didn’t understand what was wrong with him. She didn’t understand why he had to stay in the hospital, why their parents looked so worried all the time. But she did understand that Sokka was still her big brother, and if he said everything was okay, then it had to be.

So she sat by his bedside, clutching his hand, listening with rapt attention as he spun another one of his wild stories—because if Sokka was talking, then everything still felt normal. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, Katara!”

Katara let out a small smile—at least, she hoped it looked like a smile (Lu Ten had his eyes closed anyway)—as she slowly swayed her hips, rising then lowering herself gently on her fiancé’s cock.

“You feel so good,” he gasped, digging his hands harder into her skin (ouch) to urge her to move faster.

She did, just to please him. Then suddenly, without warning, he flipped her onto the mattress, turning her onto her stomach, lifting her hips and thrusting into her with an almost animalistic savagery.

“You like that, baby, you like it when I fuck you like this, huh?”

Those words, spoken with undeniable passion, stirred a confusing mix of emotions inside her. The truth was, no—she didn’t really like it. Thank Tui and La, they only had sex once a month. Thank Tui and La that was enough for Lu Ten. Thank Tui and La he never got upset when she told him sex wasn’t really her thing but she was willing to make an effort for him from time to time.

Because Lu Ten was kind, funny, and never complained that she wasn’t a good lover (unlike her exes, who had).

“You suck like shit.”

“You’re so dry it’s sickening.” 

“Fucking hell, what a waste—you’re smoking hot but utterly fucking useless in bed.”

So even though Katara would much rather be doing something else with him—like going to the movies or out to dinner—she tried to endure those few minutes of sex for his sake. And luckily, Lu Ten always came quick, so she didn’t have to fake moans for too long.

When he finally exploded in a rough groan, he collapsed heavily on top of her, pressing all his weight against her.

“Lu Ten…” she murmured softly, a little suffocated under him. “You’re heavy.”

Out of breath, he smiled tiredly, kissed the top of her shoulder gently, then slowly pulled away.

“Sorry, baby, it was just… so good!”

Katara lay still for a moment on her stomach as he took off the condom and went to the bathroom, whistling a happy tune. She closed her eyes, already knowing what would come next. She knew him by heart. He’d run the hot water, ask her to shower with him, and as usual, she’d say:

“I’m a little tired for now… I’ll shower later.”

And Lu Ten would never insist. One of the many things she loved about him.

Usually, Katara would pull out her phone, scroll absentmindedly through TikTok videos, or maybe get a glass of water while waiting for the shower to free up.

But today was different. She felt frustrated.

Terribly frustrated.

And not for the right reasons.

Before sleeping with Azula, Katara had never really had any appetite for sex. She thought she was asexual, and that was fine by her because Lu Ten loved her anyway and wanted to marry her.

Which made him pretty exceptional, really.

“Maybe he’s like you,” Suki had told her once, “maybe he’s kind of asexual?”

She never dared ask Lu Ten, and had just settled for the situation.

But now that she knew what pleasure could feel like, now that she had tasted ecstasy, Katara found it deeply unfair not to be able to reach that same pleasure with the man she loved. Because yes, even though she had slipped once—just once—Katara loved Lu Ten and still wanted to spend the rest of her days with him, laughing at his jokes, listening to his wild work stories, comforting him when he stressed over a big contract. Anyway...

She slowly rolled onto her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She could hear the shower running, smell the sweet scent of coconut body wash drifting into her nostrils. Slowly she ran a hand over her face, sighed, then let her fingers trail up to the top of her head, twining her brown curls between them.

Don’t think about her, don’t think about her, don’t think about her, don’t think—

She really tried. She fought against the images of Azula’s fingers that might be touching her there, just right there, between her thighs. But it was hopeless. Right now, her mind thought of nothing else but her.

How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? Since their last night together?

And maybe a week since she’d seen Azula at the bar, kissing Mai, her official girlfriend. A week since Azula suddenly stopped texting her, probably pissed off that Katara had mentioned Mai.

She exhaled, feeling a lump form in her throat.

One hand slipped down from her head, traced along her body, bending her knees slightly. She let her palm rest softly on her lower belly, inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

She didn’t want to let herself imagine what it would feel like if Azula took her in bed, like they had all the time in the world. She didn’t want to wonder what it would be like if Azula had a cock, and owned her like Lu Ten did.

Would she be as rough? As wild in her thrusts?

Part of her didn’t want to think about it.

Another part knew Azula would take her time, torture her slowly until she couldn’t take anymore.

Her hand found the small patch of brown hair between her thighs. One finger pressed gently on that nerve button. She turned her head toward the bathroom door, still hearing the water running and Lu Ten whistling a pop tune on the radio.

She felt guilty. Guilty for masturbating in their bed right after having sex with him, thinking about someone else.

Guilty for teasing her clit with unbearable precision, imagining Azula’s fingers, Azula’s mouth, Azula’s heat.

She...

“Hey, you know what!” Lu Ten’s voice suddenly shouted from the bathroom, shattering Katara’s concentration. She froze, heart pounding, hand snatched away abruptly.

She blinked, cleared her throat. “No, tell me?”

Lu Ten emerged, a towel tied around his hips, wet hair plastered to his skin.

“My dad’s birthday is August 2nd. I know he doesn’t like surprises much, but... for once, work’s not sending me halfway across the world, so I thought I’d book a nice restaurant for the whole family. What do you think?”

Lu Ten’s whole family definitely included Azula. Katara felt her cheeks flush, her stomach twist painfully.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lu Ten.”

“I know,” he grinned, stealing a quick kiss. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Katara rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “How’s that massive ego?”

“Still intact.”

He grabbed some pajamas. “I’m ordering sushi. You good with that?”

She nodded. “Sounds perfect, Lu Ten.”

.

.

.

Later that night, while Lu Ten was fast asleep, Katara couldn’t close her eyes. She slipped quietly out of bed. Phone in hand, she took refuge in the bathroom. She lifted the toilet seat and sat down.

She knew she shouldn’t be doing this.
But she did it anyway.

She opened her messaging app, her thumb hovering over Azula’s name. She reread the last message Azula had sent her.

Azula: A fiancé? Yeah right you have a fucking fiancé but that didn’t stop you from fucking me on the night of your engagement party.

Katara exhaled deeply. She started typing a message, then erased everything. She felt ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with her all of a sudden? She couldn’t just reappear in Azula’s life like that. Azula hadn’t reached out—so she had to assume she’d moved on. And Katara needed to do the same.

Move on, for fuck’s sake…

First, because she was straight (yeah she really, really thought about it, and no, expect Azula she never truly felt attraction for girls before), and Azula had only ever been a curiosity. The kind of curiosity you want to try before you get married and swear fidelity forever.

Second, because she was engaged to a kind, funny, caring man.

And then, because…

She sighed, locked her phone, stood up, lifted the toilet seat, got down on her knees, opened her mouth, slid two fingers in—

No, no, no, that’d make too much noise.

Rule number one: never make yourself throw up when Lu Ten was home. He couldn’t know. He never had to know. No matter how badly the urge tore at her. Shaking, she stood up, her eyes scanning the room. She approached a drawer, opened it, and found a hair tie. She slipped it onto her wrist and noticed it was a little tight. Perfect. She pulled on it.

It didn’t hurt. She’d known worse. She’d done worse. So she pulled harder. The elastic snapped sharply against her skin.

Stop thinking about Azula. Stop thinking about Azula. Stop thinking about Azula…

She snapped it again, and again, and again.

.

.

.

Katara: Hey mom, how you doin’?

Kya: Hey my little peanut, I’m great 😊

Katara: Suki dropped a joke on me today, you’re gonna LOVE it.

Kya: Hit me with it, babe!

Katara: Why don’t skeletons fight each other?

Kya: Hmm… no clue!

Katara: ‘Cause they don’t have the guts 😂

Kya: Haha omg your Suki’s hilarious! Tell her she’s gotta come eat at ours one day soon.

Katara: I’ll tell her! Promise!

.

.

.

The hospital locker room was cool, almost icy—a sharp breath of cold air against the heavy, sticky heat of the summer outside. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the sweeter smell of hand sanitizer gels. Katara was changing, peeling off her pediatric nurse uniform to slip into something casual: an oversized white t-shirt falling to her upper thighs, paired with tight black bike shorts. Black crew socks and sporty white sneakers completed the look. She was just finishing packing her things when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

The screen lit up with Ursa’s name. Katara answered, a tired sigh escaping her lips— a brief moment of calm in the daily chaos.

“Hello, Katara?”

“Hey Ursa, how are you?”

“I’m good, dear, thanks for asking,” Ursa’s voice was soft, almost motherly. “I was calling because Lu Ten told me he wants to organize a surprise birthday party for Iroh. Great idea, right? But… I’ve got something better.”

Katara frowned, curious but attentive.

“Listen closely,” Ursa continued, a hint of mischief in her voice. “I want to tell you before I mention it to your fiancé. Imagine this: not just a fancy restaurant, but a whole weekend at a cabin, deep in the woods.”

“Oh, uh, a cabin?”

“Yes, but a cabin with a private chef, a riding center—the whole package.”

Katara frowned. “I don’t know if Lu Ten can get away for two days, Ursa, you know how crazy his schedule is. He really wanted just a restaurant…”

“Iroh loves nature, it’s what moves him,” Ursa cut in, her voice full of a tender conviction. “He’d much rather that than a restaurant, trust me.”

Katara closed her eyes for a moment. She liked Ursa—she was always kind—but, and she’d never say this to Lu Ten since Ursa was his aunt after all, she had a tendency to interfere too much. It had been Ursa who organized their engagement party, even though... Katara had really wanted to do it in her parents’ garden because she’d always loved that garden, the place where she and Sokka had spent hours playing. It would have felt like he was there. And it would have been better for her mother too—it would have been less exhausting for her.

And sure, Ursa’s engagement party at the family manor had been spectacular, but…

She remembered the garden shed. Swallowed hard. Wondered if things would have gone differently between her and Azula if the engagement party had been at her parents’, like she’d wanted.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” she murmured.

“Perfect!” Ursa exclaimed triumphantly. “I’ll talk to Lu Ten and tell him you’re totally on board with my idea. Have a great day, Katara!”

Before she could reply, the line went dead.

.

.

.

Katara stepped outside the building, the hot, humid air hitting her full force. The fine rain had left the asphalt wet and gleaming under the streetlights. Twilight was swallowing the last rays of the sun, and the air carried that special scent of wet earth—a mix of passed storm and lingering warmth that wraps around summer.

She was just about to head to the bus stop when her eyes locked onto Azula’s—stepping out of the emergency room with that same calm, confident stride, despite the bandage wrapped around her hand. Katara’s heart slammed to a stop. She froze. Azula froze too.

She didn’t expect to see her there at all. Azula wore tight black jeans and a loose tank top that barely hid the sports bra underneath. Her skin was slightly damp, strands of hair rebelliously escaping the messy bun on her head.

“Hey,” Katara whispered, almost breathless.

“Hey,” Azula said, not breaking eye contact. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Katara blinked, caught off guard, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag.

“Yeah… this is where I work.”

Azula gave a small nod, a shrug like she was about to walk away—but something about it twisted in Katara’s chest, sharp and unwelcome.

“What happened to your hand?” Katara blurted, unable to stop herself.

Azula’s gaze flickered to her bandaged hand. She shrugged, voice casual but distant. “Broke a bottle cleaning up the bar. No big deal. Ty Lee insisted I get checked out though, so...”

Their eyes met again, and Katara’s breath hitched, caught in the sharp electric tension between them. Azula’s eyes, the same color as Lu Ten’s, but… different. Darker, harder. Was that hate? Desire? Or some dangerous, fiery blend of both? Katara couldn’t tell—and the confusion only made her heart race faster.

 “Good if it’s nothing serious then,” Katara said, looking away. “My bus is coming soon, I should get going…”

“You take the bus?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Azula watched her for a moment, then brushed the strands of hair from her eyes with her uninjured hand. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“W-what? No, it’s fine, I can get home by myself.”

“I said I’ll give you a ride,” Azula said clearly, “If Lu Ten finds out I let you take the bus, he’ll kill me—and I’m not up for being buried in some backyard.”

Katara parted her lips, searching for words that wouldn’t come. Azula took a few steps toward the parking lot, then glanced back, silently urging her to follow.

“You coming?”

Katara blinked, caught off guard, with no choice but to obey.

Shit.

Her stomach churned. She really should’ve gone to the bathroom before leaving.

.

.

.

Azula slid into the driver’s seat without a word, her right hand wrapped in a stark white bandage that contrasted sharply with the black leather steering wheel. Katara, sitting beside her, cast a worried glance at the injured hand.

“Are you sure you can drive like that?” she asked softly, her voice hesitant, not wanting to sound intrusive.

Azula rolled her eyes, barely hiding her annoyance. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not like it’s a war wound.”

But Katara caught the slight wince as Azula turned the wheel.

“Sure, just a couple stitches, right? No big deal,” Katara said, sarcasm edging her tone.

Azula snorted. “It’s not the first time.”

“Really?” Katara feigned surprise.

In truth, she knew Azula was reckless. Iroh had mentioned once at dinner that their late brother Ozai had taken her to the hospital more than once for broken arms or sprained wrists. Back then, Katara had only half listened while picking at her dumplings. Now, she wanted to know more, even though she probably shouldn’t.

Gently, her finger found the elastic band on her right wrist.

Don’t think about it. 

The engine purred as the car eased away from the hospital. A heavy, dense silence settled between them, broken only by the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers brushing away the fine rain.

The night cloaked the road in darkness, illuminated only by headlights cutting through the wet asphalt. The air was warm, thick with the scent of damp trees and heated pavement. Katara felt her heart pounding too loud, her breath syncing with the engine’s low hum.

Then, without warning, Azula’s voice sliced through the quiet.

“Is Lu Ten home?”

Katara blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no—not tonight. He flew out yesterday for… work.”

Azula hummed softly.

“Want to stop somewhere to eat?” she offered, her tone betraying a faint exhaustion. “I haven’t eaten all day, and I need to recharge before work.”

Katara looked away from the night outside to meet Azula’s eyes fixed on the road. She knew she should say no—she didn’t need this tonight, she needed to be alone, to center herself. But something in the invitation, the vulnerability behind Azula’s irritation, made her say yes.

“Okay,” she finally answered, reluctant but yielding.

Throughout the ride, Katara couldn’t stop stealing quick glances at Azula’s hands. She watched for any sign of pain or weakness, her gaze lingering on the tight white bandage. Each time, her stomach twisted—not just from worry, but from the dull burn of memories. She remembered, against her will, that those fingers—now immobilized and bruised—had once been inside her, had coaxed sounds from her lips she’d never dared share with anyone else. A confusing warmth mixed with shame, and Katara almost wanted to look away, as if even thinking about it was a betrayal.

To calm herself, she nervously fiddled with the elastic on her wrist, pulling it gently, again and again, as if to distract her mind from the storm of emotions raging inside.

She hoped, though she doubted, that Azula noticed nothing.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

.

.

.

Azula drove Katara to the edge of town, into a neighborhood where the streetlights seemed to dim earlier than elsewhere. They stopped in front of a small, retro-style diner with faded neon signs and red Formica tables. The air outside was still heavy with the evening’s humidity, a mix of warm rain and the scent of hot asphalt.

Inside, the dim lighting and soft jazz music created an almost nostalgic atmosphere, but the tension between them made every moment thick with unspoken words. They sat facing each other in silence, flipping through the menus in a mechanical routine.

“You come here often?”

“When I’m hungry.”

Katara rolled her eyes. Talking to Azula was harder than inserting an IV on a panicked patient.

“It’s nice here,” Katara remarked.

Azula gave a half-smile. “Better than those fancy restaurants my cousin drags you to, huh?”

Katara looked away. She hated how Azula always reminded her she was with Lu Ten.

“Contrary to what you think, I like simplicity,” Katara muttered.

Azula snorted. “And yet you got engaged to Lu Ten. You’re full of contradictions. You must be exhausting.”

Katara gripped her menu tighter. Agreeing to eat with Azula had been a stupid idea—really stupid. Azula didn’t like her. Even though they’d slept together once—and that one time haunted Katara—Azula didn’t like her.

Katara snapped, voice icy, “With an attitude like that, it’s a miracle anyone even talks to you.”

Azula rolled her eyes, clearly bored.“Seriously? And yet you’re still here, talking to me.”

Touché.

After a while where they both look at the menu, Katara couldn’t hold back the question that had been gnawing at her. Her voice barely a whisper, it cut through the silence.

“How… did you get my number?”

Azula looked up from the menu, her cold gaze locking onto Katara’s. That harsh, distant look irritated Katara more than she cared to admit. She couldn’t understand why Azula always looked at her like that, as if she bore the weight of all their mistakes.

Azula shrugged. “I asked Zuko.”

Katara’s eyes widened. “And he gave it to you?”

“I said you’d forgotten something at the mansion and that I’d return it. Don’t worry, I’m not crazy.”

A heavy silence settled. Katara lowered her eyes, her throat tight. “You… shouldn’t have texted me.”

Azula narrowed her eyes, a hint of defiance in her voice. “Does it bother you that much?”

Katara searched for words, her heart aching. “Azula, you and me…”

“I know, damn it, I know,” Azula sighed, clearly annoyed, as if this conversation cost her as much as Katara.

The waiter arrived, interrupting their tense exchange. Azula ordered a burger; Katara chose a Caesar salad—lighter, safer.

Their eyes met briefly, a silent exchange heavier than words. Katara suddenly felt uneasy. She should have refused the invitation, refused to be here, in this retro diner at the edge of town, with Azula. Because deep down, even if they did nothing outright forbidden, what she secretly wanted was for Azula to cross that line neither dared to name.

Katara took a deep breath, nervously fiddling with the elastic on her wrist, hidden under the table. The restaurant air seemed to thicken, the dim light doing nothing to soften the tension growing between them.

“Ursa’s planning something for Lu Ten’s dad’s birthday,” Katara began, trying to keep her voice steady. “She wants to book a whole weekend at a cabin in the woods—something fancy.”

Azula rolled her eyes with exasperation, clenching her fists on the table until her knuckles turned white. Her amber eyes flashed with barely contained irritation.

“Great,” she spat, “why isn’t Lu Ten handling that?”

Katara pressed her lips together, discreetly tugging the elastic to calm the trembling in her wrist.

“He had planned something, but…” she didn’t finish.

Azula cut her off sharply, her words snapping like a slap: “But she had to do everything her way, damn it, I can’t believe it.”

Katara studied Azula’s tense face, every tightened muscle. They clearly weren’t friends. They never would be. Yet something burned deep in her throat—a mix of pain and curiosity she couldn’t silence.

“You and your mother… don’t seem to get along much,” she ventured, voice hesitant, almost fragile.

Azula lifted her head, her glare cold, almost murderous, heavy with invisible but crushing weight.

“Don’t talk about my mother,” she hissed, jaw clenched, eyes blazing with a fury she barely tried to hide.

A heavy silence fell between them. Katara looked down, heart pounding too fast, while Azula gripped the table harder, as if holding back a storm ready to erupt.

Azula suddenly straightened, fingers clutching the table’s edge like a lifeline. Her voice dropped low, then sharpened into a cutting edge:

“Listen, Katara… stay in your damn place.”

Katara’s breath hitched, the words striking her like a brutal blow to the stomach. She’d always borne Azula’s cold hatred, those burning stares, the heavy silences—but this was different. This cut deeper.

“I was just…” she whispered, voice trembling, “trying to understand.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with venom. “Understand? You don’t get to understand shit. My mother, my life—they’re not for you. So keep your nose out.”

Katara’s jaw tightened. “You don’t have to be so cruel.”

Azula sneered, the faintest trace of mockery in her tone. “Oh, so now I’m supposed to be all nice and sweet for you , Katara? Didn’t get the memo that I owe you a good attitude.”

Her face hardened, lips pressed tight. She wanted to respond, to make her understand she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t deserve the hostility Azula threw at her every time they met. She was tired of carrying this burden alone.

She stood up, heart racing, ready to flee the electric atmosphere, ready to end this toxic game.

Just then, the waitress arrived, placing their awaited meals—a steaming burger for Azula and a freshly dressed Caesar salad for Katara.

The clatter of plates on the table broke the tension instantly, like a curtain falling on a stage no one wanted to play on.

Azula looked away, jaw tight, while Katara stayed standing, eyes fixed on her plate, knowing the real battle was only just beginning—but not tonight. Not here.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she snapped, avoiding Azula’s gaze.

She slipped quickly down the hallway, heart pounding, the air thick with humidity and tension. She shut the bathroom door behind her, leaning against the cold wood, trying to slow her too-rapid breathing.

But before she could catch her breath, the door swung open behind her. Azula stood there, still, her gaze burning. She closed the door and slid the lock shut with a sharp click.

A heavy silence fell between them. They stared at each other, breath uneven, time suspended.

Katara broke the silence, her voice shaking but sharp as a blade.
“Get out. I don’t want to fucking talk to you right now.”

Azula cocked an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’m serious, Azula. Get the fuck out. I need to pee.”

Azula let out a short, mocking laugh. “You don’t want to pee.”

“Oh, because you know my body so well?” Katara shot back.

Azula’s smirk deepened, venom lacing her tone. “Unfortunately… not as well as I could have. Not as well as you’d like.”

The heat in Katara’s face nearly matched the burn in her chest, but the words caught in her throat.

Azula tilted her head, her voice dropping to something colder. “You don’t want to pee—you want to run. Because you can’t stand that I don’t treat you like the precious little princess you think you are.”

Katara’s blood roared in her ears. “You… you’re unbearable. God, you’re driving me so insane, I—”

Azula didn’t let her finish. She closed the space in one swift, merciless move, her mouth crashing into Katara’s.

Shock. Heat. Fury. It all detonated at once—the anger, the hurt, the desire she’d buried so deep it burned coming back up.

Katara’s heart slammed against her ribs, her thoughts scattering like glass. For one reckless instant, every doubt, every reason to resist, was gone.

The world narrowed to Azula’s lips, her grip, the impossible pull between them.

Azula’s kiss was anything but gentle. It was a fight, a clash where each tried to take control. Her lips pressed with an almost brutal force, her hands gripping Katara’s shoulders as if to dominate her.

A shiver—part pain, part excitement—shot through Katara. Without warning, Azula shoved her against the cold edge of the sink. The impact made her grimace—it hurt, a little too much—but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all.

Her breath was short, her heart pounding wildly, every fiber of her body vibrating under the electric tension of that forbidden contact. She had never wanted this—not like this, not now—but she couldn’t push away the madness consuming them both. She closed her eyes for a moment, tasting the violent mix of pain and desire, and finally gave in to the chaos, ready to fight—or to lose—against Azula.

While Azula kept Katara pinned against the sink, her fingers digging into her shoulders, she leaned close to her ear and bit her lobe hard. A cold shiver ran through Katara, and she hated the feeling.

Azula murmured, her voice rough, almost hateful: “Fuck, I despise you so fucking much.”

Katara frowned, heart raw. The words burned her skin, made her vibrate in a way she didn’t want to admit. Then, in a sudden movement, she cupped Azula’s face in her hands and crushed her lips against hers—no gentleness, no hesitation.

That kiss, loaded with everything they could never say, cut straight through Azula’s anger, leaving her mute, startled, caught in a moment both fragile and violent.

Breathless, Katara felt hate mingle with desire, and for the first time, she didn’t try to escape the contradiction.

Azula’s hands gripped at the hem of Katara’s oversized white T-shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists, fingers digging through the thin cotton and into her skin—rough, almost violent. The edge of the shirt rode up over the tight black bike shorts, and every drag of Azula’s touch sent a jolt through her like live wire. And yet, instead of pulling away, Katara leaned in, closing the last inches between them as if she could burn herself out in that heat.

Her fingers tangled in Azula’s dark hair, tugging slightly, inflicting a dull pain—a small, silent battle where each wanted to hurt the other. Katara hated the fire that consumed her whenever she was with Azula, that unbearable, intense life she found nowhere else.

Then Azula’s hands slid boldly beneath the waistband of Katara’s black shorts. Her breath caught, lodged in her throat like a dangerous promise. A firm hand cupped her, and she heard the rough murmur:

"Fuck, you’re already wet."

A shiver of desire tore through her, and she thought she might combust.

But suddenly, a sharp noise split the silence—a plate shattering on the floor.

Both women startled, reality slamming back into them: they were in a restaurant bathroom, just steps away from a world they’d been trying to forget. They were about to cross a line they hadn’t dared approach in a long time.

Katara stepped back slowly, putting space between them. Azula stared at her, eyes dark and burning with want, but she understood.

Silence fell again, thick and heavy, the outside world seeping back in.

It was over.

"I should, uh…", Azula gestured toward the bathroom door.

"Y…yeah," Katara exhaled, breathless.

Azula was the first to leave, her gaze still carrying that incendiary glint, but she kept her silence, brushing past Katara with icy composure.

Katara remained there for a moment, frozen, her fingers gripping the edge of the sink. Dampness between her thighs. The gnawing ache of being left wanting.

Fuck. How was she supposed to finish this meal now?

She never—never—should have agreed to this. Her stomach knotted, not with nausea, but with the need to relieve the fire raging between her legs.

Oh no.

She wasn’t seriously about to touch herself here. In a restaurant bathroom.

And yet her heart was pounding, her hand already sliding under her T-shirt…

A knock on the door.

"Excuse me? Are you going to be much longer? It’s urgent."

Katara froze, her hand still trembling beneath her shirt. The sharp knock pulled her back to the cramped, cold reality of the restaurant bathroom. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart and catch her breath.

“Yeah, just a minute!” she called out, voice firmer than she felt.

She wiped her palms on the hem of her oversized shirt, took a shaky breath, and forced herself to push off the wall. Every nerve in her body screamed to run, to escape this suffocating tension, but she knew she couldn’t. Not yet.

Fuck her life.

Fuck her.

.

.

.

The rain fell fine, almost shy, but enough to stick strands of hair to their temples and soak their clothes with a cold dampness. Azula and Katara stepped out of the restaurant side by side. They hadn’t exchanged a single word during the entire meal. Not a glance, not a smile. Just the soft clinking of cutlery on porcelain, and the heavy emptiness settling between them like an invisible glass wall.

As they reached the car, Katara finally broke the silence, her voice low but firm: “You don’t need to drive me. I’ll call an Uber.”

Azula rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Stop talking nonsense.”

Without waiting for a response, she unlocked the passenger door and opened it, stepping aside to let Katara in. But Katara didn’t move.

“Get in,” Azula ordered.

Katara shook her head, planted firmly on the sidewalk. “No.”

Azula frowned, already irritated. “Katara, it’s raining, and I don’t want to get soaked. So sit your damn ass down.”

“I said no!”

Katara’s voice cracked sharply through the damp air. Her jaw clenched tightly, eyes blazing with anger—and something else, something fragile she refused to reveal. Without warning, she turned her back and strode away in long strides, ignoring the rain as it intensified and soaked her through.

Azula eased her car to a slow roll, rolling down the window. “Stop being ridiculous. Get in.”

Katara didn’t even glance back, staring straight ahead as the rain began to soak her thoroughly. She stayed rooted, refusing to move.

Azula’s patience snapped. She pulled the car over abruptly, killing the engine. Without hesitation, she stepped out and grabbed Katara’s wrist firmly.

Katara opened her mouth to fire a sharp retort—then stopped as Azula’s voice softened, unexpected.

“I’m sorry… for snapping at you, for kissing you… I’m sorry, okay?”

Azula released Katara’s wrist, and Katara was left speechless. It was the first time Azula had ever apologized, and the way she looked at her—without hatred, vulnerable—shook something deep inside her.

“Please… get in the car.”

Katara hesitated only a moment before nodding. Together, drenched and silent, they walked back to the car. Without a word, they each opened a door and slid into the seats side by side, the heavy silence settling once more.

Azula closed the door, her fingers still damp against the cold leather of the steering wheel. She glanced at Katara, who looked hesitant, her gaze darting away nervously.

“I’m sorry too,” Katara whispered, her voice trembling.

Azula raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. “For what?”

Katara swallowed hard, taking a slow, steadying breath. Her hands clenched tightly on her knees.

“For wanting it.”

For wanting you so much it almost hurts.

Azula said nothing. Then, she started the engine, the low hum of the motor blending into the cool night air.

.

.

.

Katara was alone in her bed at home. The cold sheets clung to her skin as she tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. Finally, she put on a comedy on Netflix, hoping to distract her restless mind. Her phone suddenly vibrated, lighting up the dark room. 

It wasn’t Lu Ten—it was Azula. 

Azula: Are you asleep?

Katara hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen for a moment. Just two seconds. Then she replied, unable to ignore her.

Katara: No.

Azula: It’s late, though…

Midnight, exactly. Katara knew she should get up early tomorrow, but she just couldn’t sleep.

Azula: What are you wearing?

Her heart skipped a beat. A sudden warmth flushed her cheeks. She should have ignored the message. She should have blocked the number. But she couldn’t.

Katara: Nothing interesting.

The reply came instantly.

Azula: I’m sure it is.

Katara bit her lip, breath caught.

Katara: Aren’t you supposed to be working?

Azula: I’m on a break.

And yet she was texting her. During her break. Katara pictured Azula, maybe in her office, or outside in the alley behind the bar, a cigarette in hand, her gaze lost in the night. The thought that Azula was thinking of her, here and now, unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Azula: So?

Katara bit the inside of her cheek, embarrassed. Truth was, she was just wearing her favorite tank top and simple black panties. Nothing tempting, nothing to spark that fire consuming her.

Katara’s breath hitched.

Katara: You don’t want to know.

A heavy, electric silence settled, as if those few words carried the weight of a thousand stares.

After a few tense seconds, her phone buzzed again.

Azula: Love.

Azula : Tell me, I’m burning here.

Katara’s fingers trembled, hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. Desire warred with nerves, but finally she typed—equal parts defiant and vulnerable.

Katara: Just my favorite tank top and plain black panties. There. Happy?

Seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

Azula: Picture?

Katara smirked, biting her lip.

Katara: Don’t push your luck.

She waited, heart pounding, but no reply came. Disappointment prickled at her skin. She set the phone down on the bed, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Then, suddenly, it buzzed again, and she practically lunged for it.

Azula: I can’t stop thinking about you...

Katara’s heart clenched painfully.

Azula: ...about what might have happened.

Katara closed her eyes tightly, heat blooming across her cheeks. She felt it too—that dangerous pull—but now wasn’t the time.

Katara: Me too.

Azula: Do you want to know?

Katara: Know what?

Azula: What I would’ve done to you if we hadn’t been interrupted.

Katara’s eyes snapped wide open. She stared at her phone screen as if it might swallow her whole. Did she want to know? She bit her bottom lip, closing her eyes as the memory flooded her—the slick heat pooling between her legs in that cramped bathroom, the rush of life pulsing through her veins the moment Azula’s lips had crushed against hers.

Did she want to know? God, she wanted it so badly it made her stomach turn. Her fingers hesitated, biting her lip harder as she started to type… when suddenly her phone rang.

It was Lu Ten.

Katara stared at the screen, frozen. Lu Ten was on Kyoshi Island, and with the time difference, it had to be around 10 p.m. there.

She shifted up in bed but couldn’t bring herself to answer. She couldn’t talk to him now. Instead, he left a voice message.

It took her nearly ten minutes to build the courage to listen.

“Hey baby, hic… damn, I miss you. I’m thinking about you. I wish you were here. I can’t wait until we get married, damn it! Hey everyone, listen up—I’m talking to my future wife. She’s so damn beautiful!”

He was completely drunk. That didn’t  surprised her at all, she knew all too well how often his bosses invited him out for drinks and late-night talks—it was tradition.And it wasn’t the first drunk voice message she had gotten from him.

And here he was, thousands of miles away, thinking about her.

And she? She was about to cheat on him again… by text.

The nausea knotted deeper in her gut, sharp and unforgiving. She felt like a fucking monster—soiled, disgusting, utterly lost. Fuck. She had to stop whatever was happening with Azula. There was no other way. She barely recognized the person staring back at her in the mirror anymore.

This wasn’t her. She wasn’t a cheat. She wasn’t drawn to angry, volatile women with tempers like wildfire. 

She let her phone drop onto the bed, then gripped the elastic band around her wrist, pulling it tighter—harder. Snap, snap, snap. But it never was enough. Never enough to hold back the hurricane twisting inside her.

She needed release.

Quietly, she slipped from the bed, moved toward the bathroom, and locked the door softly behind her.

Chapter Text

The microwave clock read 4:06 PM. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting golden lines across the countertop, flooding the kitchen with a warm glow that nothing could soften. Certainly not Azula’s mood.

She wasn’t just in a bad mood — she was a ticking time bomb. The slightest annoyance made her want to smash everything in sight. Her shoulders were tense as if she carried an invisible weight, her jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

And now, of course , the 500-dollar coffee machine — a gift she’d bought herself two years ago, a sacred investment in her daily ritual — refused to cooperate. The screen blinked over and over like it was mocking her.

Already on edge, Azula stabbed at all the buttons, shook the water reservoir, then smacked the side of the machine.

“Come on, you worthless piece of junk, make me a coffee!”

A pathetic beep answered her before the machine shut off completely, signing its own death warrant.

Azula straightened up, fists so tight her nails dug into her palms. She swore. Then swore again, louder, because she was way too far gone to hold back.

“Oh, seriously,” Mai sighed from the couch, slouched with a steaming mug of tea in her hands. “Watch your language.”

“My language?” Azula turned, incredulous.

“Yes, your language, Azula,” Mai said sharply. “You’ve been in a murderous mood for three days straight. You insult every single object in this room, and now you want to beat the crap out of the coffee machine?”

“I just need a fucking coffee,” Mai, Azula hissed without even turning around. “It’s got nothing to do with my mood.”

“Oh Agni, Azula…” Mai said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not just the ‘fucking coffee.’ Something’s wrong. I know you too well.”

Azula’s heart skipped a beat. Yes, something was wrong. Katara hadn’t replied—not to that message, “What I would’ve done to you if we hadn’t been interrupted,” not to the next one, “Hey, you’re okay?” —nor to the others: “So what, ignoring me now? Feeling fucking guilty?” And especially not to the last three, sent in a compulsive, desperate rush. “Oh, look, still ignoring me.” “How very mature of you.” “You know what, fuck you. I don’t care anyway.” 

Three days of silence. Three days imagining a thousand scenarios, each one more unbearable than the last.

And Azula was burning. She wanted to burn everything .

But Mai didn’t need to know that. She never had to know.

“Either your mother’s pushed you over the edge again, or the competition stole one of your bar’s ideas, or… someone scratched your car again and now you think the whole world’s against you.”

Azula exhaled sharply. “Fine, fine… you win.”

Mai crossed her arms, waiting, unrelenting.

“It’s my mother,” Azula lied. “She planned… some fucking family thing for uncle Iroh. And I told her I wasn’t going this time. So… yeah, she said a bunch of things that pissed me off.”

Not a lie, but not the truth either. Ursa would eventually organize something, and this time, Azula had no intention of showing up. Definitely not if Katara was going to spend the night glued to her damn cousin. And she knew her mother well enough to already guess the reproach…

“Oh Azula,” Mai said, rolling her eyes, again. “Seriously, you need to learn to let go when it comes to your mother.”

Azula slowly turned toward her, brows drawn tight. “ Excuse me?”

“It’s always the same story. She always ends up hurting you. Haven’t you ever thought it might be time to cut ties?”

Stunned. Azula blinked. “Mai… you… what?”

“She’s toxic for you, and you know it.”

Yes, she knew that. But…

“She’s my mother!” Azula snapped. “I’ll remind you she’s all I’ve got… and Kiyi. And Kiyi’s not of age yet. If I cut her off, she’ll stop me from seeing her!”

“So what? You’re gonna keep putting up with this for two more years until Kiyi turns eighteen?” Mai arched a brow. “You’ve tried, Azula. You’ve tried so hard Azula, for so many years. It’s not working. Cut her off, free yourself once and for all. And breathe for real. Because I am done putting up with your meltdowns every two weeks. You have no idea how unbearable you can be sometimes.”

Azula felt the anger building, thick and suffocating. “Unbearable?”

“You know what I meant,” Mai said with fake nonchalance.

“Fine,” Azula snapped, grabbing her crossbody bag, a cap, and her car keys. “If I’m so unbearable, I’ll let you live. Without me.”

“Azula, don’t—”

But the door slammed behind her, like a thunderclap.

.

.

.

The air smelled of gasoline and hot asphalt. Azula leaned against the hood of her car, the warm metal pressing against her back. Her black Nike cap was pulled low over her forehead, shadowing her eyes. The slightly oversized black zip-up hoodie, hood up, hung over a simple, fitted gray tank, and ripped black skinny jeans clung to her legs at the knees. Worn high-top black Converse completed the look, giving her the air of an urban warrior bracing for battle. Her black leather crossbody bag rested against her hip like a silent companion.

A cigarette trembled between her fingers, and she drew on it as if the nicotine could piece together her frayed nerves. A Starbucks cup—a latte too sweet, too expensive, foam half-collapsed—was pressed against her chest by her left arm. Her right hand, still bandaged, held her phone. The screen glowed in the fading light, a string of unanswered blue bubbles mocking her.

Fuck. Three days. Three fucking days since she had kissed her. Since she had felt her, warm and trembling, right there under her fingers. Ready for her. Just for her. And Azula couldn’t think of anything else. So consumed that she hadn’t even touched Mai, afraid her body might betray her and the wrong name slip from her lips. No woman had ever made her this insane. None. Well,Mai was the only one she had ever known, so…

Rage coiled in her chest. She didn’t know what to do with all these emotions, these raw, twisting feelings that made her spin. Nor with the burning, impossible desire for her cousin’s fiancée.

Her phone vibrated. Her mother’s name flashed on the screen.

Azula inhaled, counting to three in her head before answering. “Yeah, Mother? What do you want?”

There was a brief pause on the line. Her mother’s voice, usually steady, carried a flicker of surprise and reproach.

 “Azula… that’s no way to speak to me,” Ursa said softly, though the edge in her tone was unmistakable.“ And by the way, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” 

Azula rolled her eyes. Her mother never asked how she was—why should she?

Agni, she was, so, so tired…

“I’m calling because you need to reserve the weekend of August 2nd for Iroh’s birthday,” Ursa said, her voice cold and sharp. “I booked a lodge for the whole family; it’s going to be grand. Oh, and make sure you get a proper gift this time, not slippers for your uncle. Even if it’s Louis Vuitton.”

Azula gritted her teeth. “I… I won’t come.”

Silence.

“You won’t come?”

“No mom, I won’t.”

Silence again, then a torrent of verbal fire: “Always the same with you! You never make an effort for our family! I always have to flatter you just to get you to lift a finger!”

“What? I always come to family event, for once I just…”

“And on top of that, you never bring your girlfriend. Are you ashamed of us? Do you think we’re beneath you? Why—why do you always have to make everything so complicated, Azula!?”

Azula’s fists clenched, jaw locked, fingers trembling with fury.

“Fuck…” she muttered, slamming the phone down.

Her rage surged, unstoppable. Even knowing what her mother would say, the words still cut like acid. She would never be enough. Mai was right: she should cut ties. Katara ignored her. And why was she ignoring her? 

All of it drove her completely, irreparably insane.

She inhaled the scent of asphalt and gasoline. Every muscle in her body trembled. She was about to blow.

.

.

.

The engine roared beneath her like a raging beast. Azula gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles went white, fingers trembling, every turn forcing her to channel all her fury just to stay in control. The road flew past under her tires like a glowing ribbon, every white line a challenge she ignored with a furious smirk.

Her thoughts collided, tangled with the adrenaline. All she wanted now was to feel the speed, to feel her body scream with tension, to feel her anger transform into something tangible.

Blurred pedestrians on the sidewalk, red lights swallowed in a thrill, every overtake a tiny cry of freedom. Her foot pressed the accelerator, and the car responded, singing under the unleashed power. Azula felt in control and yet so close to chaos that she could tip into madness at any moment.

She thought of nothing else, only the void she needed to fill, the rage she had to release before it consumed her completely. The road became an outlet, her speed a silent scream hurled at the world.

.

.

.

Azula was five years old when her parents divorced.

She remembered the suffocating heat of that night, the heavy tick-tock of the hallway clock, and the voices—sharp, serrated—cutting through the walls.

She’d left her bed, bare feet on the cold hardwood, and crept to the living room door. Yellow light spilled through the crack, drawing a thin line across the floor. Her father and mother stood there, face to face. He was green with fury. She was red with rage. The words flew fast, hard, and jagged. Azula didn’t understand all of them, but each one landed in her gut like a stone.

Then came the words from her mother—the ones that would never fade…

“Then just go. Leave, once and for all. And take Azula with you!”

Just Azula. Not Zuko. Only her.

Her throat had tightened, little fingers gripping the edge of the door, the metallic taste of fear on her tongue.

A few months later, the divorce was final. Azula found herself in the backseat of her father’s car. The leather smelled like cold tobacco. All her belongings were crammed in the trunk. No Zuko. No mother.

Just her and her father.

Her father’s hands were locked on the steering wheel. His eyes caught hers in the rearview mirror, gleaming with something sharp and unyielding.

“Don’t worry, Azula. I’m going to build us an empire.” He’d paused then, the silence thick, as if he were tasting the next words before letting them fall like poison. “And that bitch… your mother… will spend the rest of her life regretting she ever shut us out.”

Back then, Azula had flinched at the word, but she’d clung to the conviction in his voice like a lifeline. For years, she believed he was the only one who truly saw her, the only one who cared.

When he died three years later, and she was sent back to her mother’s house—to Zuko’s wary eyes and Ursa’s strained coldness—Azula understood.

She would be alone for the rest of her life.

.

.

.

The bar’s low light barely caught the gleam of the glasses stacked behind the counter. Azula was wiping down a shaker when a customer slid the cocktail she’d just made back toward her.

“It’s… not great. Mind making it again?” he asked, voice falsely casual.

Azula’s brows knit, a flash of heat cutting through her already thin patience. Wrong. Day. To. Try. Her.

“Not great?” she repeated, voice like frost on glass. She picked up the drink, swirled it, inhaled the scent, then took a slow sip. Her nose wrinkled. Her eyes hardened to steel. “It’s you that’s not great. Not my cocktail.”

The man blinked, caught off guard, before sputtering something about “bad attitude” and “customer service.”

Azula rolled her eyes and muttered a curse under her breath. Too much nonsense. Too much mediocrity. She didn’t have the patience for it tonight.

From down the counter, Ty Lee, still smiling as she handed off another drink, stepped closer, palms open in a placating gesture.

“I’ll make you another—what was it exactly?”

“Sex on the Beach,” the customer said, glaring at Azula. She met his stare, sharper and colder, until he looked away.

While Ty Lee worked, she murmured to Azula, “I’ve got this. Go get some air.”

Azula shot her a glare too, feeling uncomfortably like she was being scolded. Still, with nerves frayed to the breaking point, she shoved through the back door into the narrow alley. The bar’s muffled hum faded, replaced by the whispering wind between brick walls. She lit a cigarette, dragged deep, the smoke scratching her throat—just enough to anchor her fury.

Fuck. What a fucking day.

She pulled out her phone. A message from Mai.

Mai : Even if you’re sulking, there’s a plate of lasagna for you in the oven.

Azula left it on read. Still pissed that Mai had called her ‘unbearable’ earlier, she wasn’t about to respond. And she hated lasagna. Mai knew that—had known it for twelve years.

Another message. From her mother this time.

Mother : I told Katara and Lu Ten you won’t be coming. They’re terribly disappointed in you. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

She bit back the urge to text back yes, I am proud. Proud, for once, not to follow orders like a trained dog. She shoved her phone away.

No other messages.

The door swung open behind her. Ty Lee stepped out.

“What the hell is wrong with you today?” she asked bluntly.

Azula exhaled a stream of smoke, eyes closing. She was so tired of that question.

“You know if you keep talking to customers like that, we’ll lose them, right?” Ty Lee went on, voice measured.

Azula’s eyes opened, the flame of her cigarette trembling in the alley breeze. A dry, almost cynical laugh escaped her.

“Like I don’t know that.”

Ty Lee tilted her head, studying her. “Come on. What’s going on?”

Azula’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing. Just… my mother.”

And Katara. 

Katara ignoring her. Katara acting disappointed she wouldn’t come to her uncle’s birthday—as if she wasn’t secretly delighted. Azula almost wanted to text her mother and say she’d go, just to ruin Katara’s night.

“…And?” Ty Lee prompted, arms folding across her chest.

“And what?” Azula snapped.

“I dunno, there’s clearly more. I’ve seen you mad at your mom a thousand times, but never like this.”

“This time,” Azula spat, “it’s the last straw.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah Ty Lee, that bad, just…leave it ok!”

“Okay, okay. No need to bite my head off.”

Azula raked a hand through her hair, fed up with being analyzed, comforted, understood. She didn’t want to be understood. She wanted to burn the whole damn night down.

“Go serve the customers, Ty Lee. I’ll be back in ten.”

Ty Lee narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re the boss, but seriously—you should take the night off.”

“Ty Lee…” Azula’s voice was a low growl, but under the tension, it cracked faintly.

“I’m serious. I don’t know what your mom said this time, but you’re clearly not yourself. I’ve never seen you like this. You should… I don’t know, go spend the night with Mai.”

Azula gave a short, humorless sniff. “We fought.”

“Then all the more reason to take the night off and make it up to her.”

Azula didn’t answer. Her silence was heavy, brittle. She ground out her cigarette, pushed back into the bar—still simmering. The smell of liquor, citrus, and polished wood wrapped around her.

A customer glanced her way, maybe expecting service, maybe a smile. Azula’s hand twitched—and then she grabbed the nearest bottle on the shelf.

The glass shattered sharp and clean, fragments skittering across the counter.

“Fuck!” she hissed, breath ragged, hands trembling.

Ty Lee appeared instantly. “Azula! I’ll clean it up.”

“No, it’s my mess—”

“No, seriously. I’ll clean it. You… you need to go.” Ty Lee’s tone softened, but her stance stayed firm. “You need to breathe.”

Azula’s teeth clenched. Every instinct screamed to stay, to keep control. But the rage had drained into something heavier, more hollow. She sighed through her nose, shoulders dropping.

“…Fine. But if anything happens, you call me.”

Ty Lee nodded, already grabbing a cloth and broom. “Good. Now go. And please, Azula… just try to enjoy yourself. For one night.”

Azula turned on her heel, the air of the bar feeling tighter than ever. Her pulse still beat like war drums, but somewhere under the noise, a thin thread of quiet began to creep in.

.

.

.

It was a fucking mistake.

She shouldn’t be here. But she was anyway.

Shit.

Her heart was pounding so hard Azula could feel it all the way up to her throat. Her fingers still trembled slightly—not just from the nicotine or the anger that had been building for three days. She had driven here without thinking, foot heavy on the gas, thoughts spinning like a scratched record. And now, she was here. In front of this door. Her thumb hovered over the doorbell.

She knew Lu Ten wasn’t home—she had arranged that. A quick, almost innocent message.

Azula: Hey Lu Ten, not working today.

A lie.

Azula: Fancy hitting the bars like old times?

(Yes, Lu Ten had taught Azula to drink and smoke, and given her a taste for bars.)

Lu Ten: Damn cousin, would’ve loved to! But a typhoon delayed my damn flight. Stuck on Kyoshi Island until tomorrow :(

Perfect. And just to check one more thing, she asked:

Azula: Not too disappointed I’m skipping Uncle Iroh’s birthday?

Lu Ten: Not at all ;) it’s not my birthday after all ha ha 

There. He didn’t care.

Fuck you mother.

And so, here she was, in front of that damn door. Fingers trembling, hesitating to press the bell, again and again. Azula took a deep breath and finally pushed the button. Once. Twice. Three times. Long enough to be annoying.

Footsteps. The lock turning. And then… Katara.

Hair hastily tied back, a cropped t-shirt hugging her chest perfectly and revealing a bit of her stomach. Shorts just as short, making her shiver, bare feet. Her mouth opened, stunned.

“Azula?!”

And there… Azula thought of nothing. Or rather, thought too many things at once, all compressed into a single sentence that shot from her lips like a bullet fired point-blank:

“Why are you ignoring me?”

No preamble. No forced smile. Just that, raw, almost cutting, like both an accusation and a plea at the same time.

Katara blinked, completely caught off guard. “What?”

“It’s been three days, three fucking days, Katara.”  Azula’s voice dropped, low and trembling, words rushed, almost spat.

Katara frowned, unsettled. “Azula, I…I don’t own you anything, I…you and I…”

“No,” Azula snapped, her tone rising, slicing the air like a blade. “ Let me explain to you, It’s simple. I text. You respond. That’s all!”

Katara jumped, eyes wide. She motioned for her to lower her tone, panic already creeping into her voice. Then she grabbed Azula’s wrist and pulled her inside.

The warmth of Katara’s hand around her wrist erased every thought in Azula’s head. Only that burn remained, under her skin. She was exhausted. Furious. And above all, obsessed. Obsessed with her.

The door slammed behind them. Katara released her wrist, and Azula immediately regretted the lack of contact. Katara took a moment to turn around, as if gathering courage required a few more seconds.

“So?” Azula asked, voice trembling. “What’s your excuse?”

Katara swallowed, eyes downcast. “You know very well.”

Azula shook her head, almost violently. “No. That’s the problem. I have no fucking idea!”

“Oh, please!” Katara shot back, indignant. “Are you going to pretend what we’re doing isn’t wrong? We’re both in relationships, Azula. It’s only… logical that it stops.”

Logical, yes. Of course it was wrong. Azula knew it. Fucking knew it. But…

She stepped forward. Katara stepped back. Another step. Katara found herself trapped between her and the door.

“Azula…”

She leaned in slowly, brushing her lips against Katara’s earlobe. 

“And yet… you were so wet,” she whispered, voice husky. 

She lifted her head, their faces inches apart. Katara’s pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, breath uneven.

“You want it as m—”

She never finished. Katara seized her by the nape, crushing her lips against Azula’s in a sudden, urgent kiss. Brutal. Desperate. Azula let out a shiver she barely tried to suppress, deepening the kiss, feeling every sharp intake of breath against her own.

There was no tenderness—only the raw friction, the unspoken struggle for dominance and surrender. Azula pressed her harder against the door, hands sliding along Katara’s sides, feeling the tension and warmth beneath her fingers. She wanted more—more closeness, more claim, more proof that Katara’s attention belonged only to her. Not him. Not anyone else. Just hers.

The kiss consumed them, making the air heavy and electric. Azula’s impatience surged, raw and uncontainable. Every glance, every press of lips, every subtle move intensified the craving that pulsed through her. She lifted Katara slightly, just enough to feel the weight of her in her arms, the fragile mix of resistance and trust.

“Azula… what are you doing?” Katara’s voice trembled, half-excitement, half-warning.

Azula, eyes dark, voice low: “Where’s your room?”

Katara’s eyes widened in alarm. She tried to push back, but Azula’s grip was firm, unyielding, each breath between them sharp and heated. 

“No… put me down. We can’t… not here.”

“Why not?” Azula murmured, the words vibrating with urgent challenge. “You want this. I want this. We both know it.”

Katara squirmed, fingers clutching her shoulders as if torn between yielding and resisting.

“Because… I… Azula, please, put me down.”

Azula released her slowly, every inch of distance feeling like a sacrifice. Her voice softened, still intense: “You want me, right?”

“Azula…”

“Just… say it. For once.”

“Yes! I want you—so badly it’s all I can think about… but… not here.”

“Not here?” Azula repeated, a slow, sharp edge in her voice. “Elsewhere? So it would be fine somewhere else?”

Katara blinked, uncertainty and longing in her eyes. “I… guess.”

“Come to my place.”

Katara stared, caught between shock and something unspoken. “Your place?”

Azula nodded, a small, victorious smile curling her lips. “I have an apartment in town. Just mine.”

She’d inherited it from her father—like a seaside villa, a colossal fortune, countless precious things, but that wasn’t the point. This apartment was her refuge. Rarely used, she preferred to sleep in the bed she shared with Mai. But sometimes, when nostalgia for her father became too heavy… or a fight with Mai made the air unbearable, she would spend an hour, a whole night there.

“Your place…,”Katara repeated, breath short.

Azula swallowed. She knew she couldn’t bear a refusal. Not now. Not with this feverish need devouring her insides. She wanted her so badly it hurt. She felt like she could literally die if she couldn’t feel her, right here, right now.

She pressed her forehead against Katara’s, their breaths mingling in a tiny space. Her hand slowly traced along her jaw to rest on her cheek. Her thumb drew a light, almost tender circle.

There was no room for anger. No weapons, no mask. Just her, naked in her plea.

“Please…”

Katara moistened her lips, and Azula brushed them with a ghost of a kiss. Then another, more certain. They kissed again, but this time, there was no brutality. Soft, slow, almost imploring. Azula’s tongue caressed hers with deceptive patience, but her whole body still screamed.

Please, please, please…

Then, guided by an instinct stronger than herself, Azula slid her knee between Katara’s legs. She pressed, first gently, then firmer against her core.

Katara gasped in her mouth, fingers clenching Azula’s shoulders. Despite herself, her hips moved, seeking more contact, more pressure, as if her body betrayed all the reason that still wanted to resist.

Azula pressed her harder against the door, knee pushing more, demanding more. The heat she felt there drove her wild. Katara trembled against her, muffled moans lost against Azula’s mouth.

“Please, come with me,” whispered Azula, her fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along Katara’s lower back, just beneath the edge of her shirt. Each movement was deliberate, making Katara shiver and lean closer, hearts racing in the quiet tension between them.

She could feel her. Alive. Weak. Hers.

“I want to make you feel everything,” Azula whispered, lips brushing Katara’s, her knee pressing closer. Fuck she could already feel how hot she was. How wet she started to get. “I want to feel you trembling under me. I want to hear you screaming my name.” 

Katara gasped, fingers digging into Azula’s shoulders. 

“I want to fuck you all night, make you come again, and again for me, just for me,” Azula murmured, voice rough with need. Fuck, she was starting to get wet too, she could feel it between her tights. “Tonight… I want to make you feel like nothing else exists.”

She watched Katara’s chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths, pupils wide and dark with need. Damn… she could come just like that, just looking at her burning with desire, Azula realized, feeling a rush of power and longing. Every glance, every subtle movement drew her in deeper, made her pulse quicken.

Her hand lingered at Katara’s lower back, teasing, drawing her closer without words. The air between them was electric, charged with something unspoken and urgent.

“So, you would come to my place?”

“Y..yeah,” Katara gasped. “Take me to your place.”