There is a beautiful world where I can see your face, It exists only between time and space Time shreds space like worn out fashion, And leaves us desperate for our precious compassion Space consumes time without our consent, And hides the reality that our dreams were once spent Our love is regained when we meet in between And there we can dance again in our dream.
So anyway I just finished my latest chapter so I need to plug like a boss now. Here's some fluffy as fuck Zutara fluff for all of your fluffy needs (fluff)
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” A raspy voice called. It sounded so warm and familiar that Katara proceeded to bury herself further inside her sheets, wanting to hear the voice in her dreams further.
“I don’t want to… wake up yet…” she groaned, replying to the sound of the familiar voice. “Don’t wake me up yet—“
The voice chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want to?” it said.
“If I wake up…” Katara yawned softly, “If I wake up, you’ll go… away… again…”
Zuko crouched down, his face leveled with hers on the bunk bed, giving Katara a small peck on the forehead.
“Mhmm,” she replied, hugging her sheets tightly, smiling. “Please don’t go away yet—“
Zuko laughed. “I’m not going anywhere anymore.” He said, smoothing out her locks.
At the touch of her hair, Katara suddenly blinked her eyes open, her sapphire orbs facing his golden ones.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Zuko smiled.
Katara had risen up so quickly, she and Zuko’s foreheads collided with each other—he was now crouching on the floor in pain, and Katara remained seated upright on her bed, too surprised and shocked to notice the impact and pain on her own forehead.
“Oh my gosh! Zuko?” she exclaimed, her hands on her lips. “Zuko, I am so, so, sorry I—“
But he was laughing.
“It’s nice to see you, too,” he said, now sitting upright as well to face her, a hand on his forehead.
At this, Katara’s smile disappeared, turning into awe. Before her stood the Fire Lord, completely dressed up, adorned with scarlet robes and silk-linen boots. His hair was tied up in a bun, and the golden crown sat at the top of the knot of his hair. He had grown a small goatee, much like in the painting he had sent, and his muscles, if she wasn’t mistaken, seemed firmer and more slender than the last time she had seen him.
Zuko paused, looking at her, his face falling as well. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
“Zuko?” Katara muttered.
“Am I dreaming?” Katara asked.
Zuko pressed his lips softly against hers, swiftly, in a short kiss. He had missed the feel of her cool lips and how they seemed to fit perfectly with hers. He held her hand tightly, lacing their fingers together.
“Do you think you are?” He laughed. “I had to argue with the Fire Sages about seeing you here, by myself,” Zuko emphasized. “The guards won’t leave me alone and there was this business about it being ‘inappropriate’ for Fire Lords to enter their guests’ quarters, and how we should welcome—“
But Katara quickly engulfed him in a tight embrace, taking in the scent of his hair, burying her face at the crook of his neck. For the first time in a long time, she felt her tears flow to her cheeks, biting her bottom lip to hide her whimpering.
Zuko pressed himself closer to her, and reciprocated, inhaling her in. She smelled of wild flowers, she smelled of the fresh breeze of the deep, Prussian sea. She smelled of nights filled with innermost secrets under the stars. She smelled like home.
“Don’t wake me up,” Katara said, not wanting to let go.
“I have to,” Zuko chuckled. “Because you’re here now with me. You’re okay. Open your eyes again, Katara. Wake up already. I’m here.” He smiled against her.