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#it was a joke i go to therapy regularly i just also love dyeing my hair it sparks joy
strengthisyellow · 3 years
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guess who finally got their hair cut today
who needs therapy when you have hair dye
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zukofenty · 4 years
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FWU
➜ Summary: The one where Katara (is sure) she's in love with the campus drug dealer. 
“Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!” 
➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, DrugDealer!Zuko
➜ Words: 2.5k 
➜ Warnings: I will fight Katara for DrugDealer!Zuko 😩
AO3 
“We got the goods!” Katara squeals, throwing down flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a sack of marijuana. 
Suki picks it up, sniffing the plastic bag. “This shit is loud and clear.” Her smile is dangerously devious. “Thanks, Zuko! This is going to be the best 4/20 ever!” Suki immediately begins to grab the proffered ingredients, shuffling them to the kitchen. She’s already taking some of the buds and putting them on a tray to prep in the oven. “Who knew fingering a drug dealer’s asshole would come in handy?” 
  Zuko immediately turns beet red. “Why do you keep telling people that happened?” Katara slaps Suki upside the head. 
  “Because I like seeing the two of you squirm, sue me!” Suki admits, shrugging her shoulders and dodging Toph’s slap to her ass. 
  Katara collapses on her futon, positively spent after spending the day helping Zuko drop off sacks for his clients, while buying all the ingredients they needed for baking edibles to celebrate the holiday.
  // 
  “Zuko, what the fuck are you doing!” Katara screams, almost losing grip of the wheel. 
  “How about you make sure your fucking Prius doesn’t eat shit?” Zuko screeches, coming back to his seat after sticking his entire body out the hybrid car. 
  Katara smacks her forehead. The pain where she hit is almost as bad as the frustration she feels. “This is the exact fucking reason I never get Chipotle with you!” She sees the car that was formerly beside her pulled over at the side of the freeway, the driver clearly angry with how hard he was pounding the pavement with his fist. His entire body is covered in Zuko’s half chicken half barbacoa burrito bowl. 
  “I’m not going to lie, that was impressive. The NFL’s vag must be positively pulsating,” Katara deadpans, rubbing at her temples to relieve the pressure from forming. Sokka always said her road rage was the worst he’s ever seen, but alas her shouting and occasionally flipping people off could never compare to Zuko’s hotheadedness. Her gut feeling about grabbing an extra bowl paid off, much to her dismay. This was not a rare occurrence. “How did you manage to throw your entire bowl through the crack of his window?” 
  “Well, the NFL can go eat a dick!” Zuko says, wiping his hands on a Chipotle napkin before taking a sip from his water cup filled to the brim with their lemonade. “And the shit dick had it coming.” He did, Zuko swears. It’s completely his fault for not only playing Michael Buble as loud as his Honda Accord was capable of, but also refusing to use his turn signal, and then screaming “fuck you, pussy hoe!” when Katara honked at him. That bitch. 
  “Right. Anyways, I’m recalling a conversation we had I think...yes! Two days ago. You’re still thinking about going to therapy, right? You’re moving on from your designated therapy toad?” 
  Zuko fully turns to face Katara. He accidentally bumps his head on the roof, and proceeds to smack it. “First of all, what makes you say that? Second of all, you know Frank has a name!” 
  “Not your anger issues, of course.” She doesn’t miss his eye roll. “Also, when you gave me your phone so I could text your uncle that you were going to pick him up, I went through your Youtube search history. Because I care. You deserve better than boxed hair dye tutorials, Zuko. I know you can do better.” At the red light, she grabs Zuko’s shoulder in an almost caring manner. He slaps her tiny hand away. 
  //
  Zuko was certain he was spending this 4/20 positively baked , so while he waited for everyone to wash their hands so they could whip up his favorite Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies edibles (with a gooey marshmallow middle), he took out his grinder from his hoodie’s pocket. 
  He grabs at the Sailor Moon bong he bought Katara for the one month anniversary of the time she saved him from being beaten to death by a group of frat brothers. She didn’t nearly like using marijuana as much her friends did, insisting on her maintaining her brain and lung health. She’d never admit to enjoying the cannabliss that came with huffing and puffing out some Mary Jane, but Zuko knows her sleepy smile after taking a hit lets her sleep just the slightest bit better. 
  Especially now that she’s working nonstop to pay off her tuition this semester. While Sokka was efficiently loaded, his record label was going through a rough patch after a scandal with one of their artists. Apparently, having viral toe sucking videos reflected badly on you as a person, and a number of investors pulled out after the news broke. Sokka was dipping into emergency savings, about to sell the Bugatti, but Katara insisted on taking on a few part time jobs. It breaks Zuko’s heart when he’s the first one to come home to her apartment, even after doing his runs for the night. She’s always blearly, insisting on taking a “quick nap” before she takes off her makeup. He likes feeling useful, when she instantly falls asleep and he’s the one using Micellar Water and a cotton pad to rub off her stubborn mascara of the day. 
  “I will literally curb stomp the Dean for you,” Zuko tells her, the fire behind his words that makes Katara doubt it was a passing joke. 
  “Zuko. No.” 
  He remembers being woken up in the middle of the night, Katara whispering into her phone. He invested in the Sailor Moon pipe after he found out she could only sleep a few hours, before being woken up abruptly from the stress weighing on her mind (her dark circles betrayed her).  “I started seeing someone,” Katara mutters, checking over her shoulder to see if Zuko was still sound asleep. She started wincing at the palpable silence that followed. 
  “As in dating or hallucinations?” Sokka questions, much too loud for her taste. 
  She sighs. “Don’t get like this! He’s a good guy, I promise. His name’s Zuko.” She hears shuffling on the other side of the line, after the prominent thunk of the phone dropping. “Why does that name sound so familiar? And so colonizer-like…” His voice is filled with suspicion, and she could almost see the cogs in his brain whirring to life. Before she could utter another word, her brother abruptly yelps. “Isn’t he the drug dealer who got beat up on campus?” 
  Katara sucks in a breath. “How do you know about that?” 
  “I read the Campus Crime Alert emails the school sends out, idiot! For such an expensive school, you would think they would have better security and less laptop snatchings. By the way, we need to buy you a laptop lock. You still have that self defense knife I sent you?” Sokka angrily whispers in the phone, mocking Katara’s quiet tone. 
  “Yes, dad !” She hears his irate protests as she flips her body to face Zuko. He looks a few years younger when he sleeps, breathing even and face forgetting the patented scowl. His bare chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips were enticing. His hair was almost perfectly positioned, the strands messy and unruly but just screamed Zuko . The dangly cross earring doing too much to her heart. Down girl, down! Katara tells her pussy. “Sokka, I swear! He’s not a drug dealer...he’s just an unlicensed pharmacist!” 
  “I have the email right here! Right here! And tell me what about ‘student being violently attacked due to drug related incidents ’ doesn’t scream drug dealer getting beat up for drug dealing !” Katara bites down on her tongue, whether to hold back a laugh or scream she wasn’t completely sure. 
  Suki takes a hit from her Hello Kitty dab pen, a white, bedazzled one that Zuko had gotten her. Toph and Katara also had matching Hello Kitty dab pens, in green and blue respectively. She thinks Zuko has one in red, too. She added a second layer of soy lecithin to the weed infused mixture, before popping it in the oven again for another 30 mins. 
  In the meantime, Katara was preparing the ingredients for the cookies. Zuko’s laying on the ground, narrowly missing the futon, eyes glazed over. He hasn’t moved in the past twenty minutes. “Katara, that isn’t the hand mixer, that’s your vibrator .” Suko gently chastises, moving the device from her lax hands. Katara always complained her hands were numb when she was high, and once dropped a mug from their balcony after they packed a bowl together for the first time. Suki is still bitter. It was her favorite Gudetama mug. 
  After freezing the mixture for two hours, Suki, Toph, and Zuko were hard at work, mixing ingredients, and preparing to get fucked up. A few people have stopped by the apartment to exchange plastic bags for cash. 
  “Are you turning Katara’s apartment into a dispensary? ” Toph is absolutely incredulous. 
  “That’s a loaded question with an answer very much open to interpretation…” Zuko ducks the house slipper Toph propels to his face.  
  Katara has a dumb smile on her face, wide and threatening to split her head open. She’s an avid texter when she’s baked.  
 **
Katara: What are you doing right now? Come over! Zuko’s got apology weed for you <3
  Jet: I’m at McDonald’s!! Kinda of high lol 
  Katara: Ooo you got the munchies? 
  Jet: Nah 
  Katara: how come? 
  Jet: I smoke meth lmaoooo
**
  “Who are you texting?” Zuko asks, plopping next to her spot on the floor. She’s sprawled out, hair every which way and tangling into already unruly knots he’s going to have to detangle in the morning for her. Because Katara’s a lightweight, and suffers from weed hangovers regularly. Zuko’s already recovered from his many hits at the Moon Stick pipe. 
  “Did you know Jet smokes meth?” 
  Zuko rolls his eyes, curling up and trapping Katara with his outstretched embrace. “I really thought he would like my I’m sorry weed.” 
  “Me too.” He kisses the pout off of her.  
  Katara steadily crawls up (Zuko doesn’t miss her sleep shorts riding up) and tries her best to help Toph mix the marshmallow and Cinnamon Toast crunch mixture being heated up in their big pot they stole from Katara’s neighbor. 
  When Katara grabs the hand mixer to try assisting the cookie batter, Zuko knew he had to intervene lest something explodes. She smiles when he surrounds her with his body, the warm weight of his chest against her back and his hand wrapping around hers on the mixing device. 
  He loves her, he’s sure. Even while they roll the cookies together she tries to be funny (when she clearly knows she isn’t) and throws the dough at him, and it lands in his hair. He’s sure she peed herself with how hard she was laughing and scrambling to find the bathroom when her eyes could barely open. 
  Zuko shuts down his phone when the sweet scent of the pastries flood his nostrils. Even if 4/20 is like his version of Christmas, he’s determined to spend it with his girl. “I think my pussy just gave out. That shit looks dank ,” Katara squeals, shaking Toph by the shoulders to emphasize her point. 
  “Thanks for the visual,” Toph says, looking devious and wholly prepared to get stoned. 
  //
  “I could beat his ass if I needed to,” Katara loudly whispers in Suki’s ear. At this point, they were all laying down on the floor, the familiar tingle of an impending high at the forefront of their minds. 
  “Katara, you’re staring at a poster of 11 year old Frankie Muniz.” Suki shakes the girl off her. “Why do you always say that about any guy you see, sober or not?” 
  Zuko’s the most sober of them all, but based on the fact he killed a few joints on his own, he thinks he’s about to die. Toph’s on the balcony, weary of the smoke detector. She comes back in after repeatedly coughing, pounding at her chest to lessen the pain. She promptly lays on the floor with the rest of them, stupidly smiling. 
  Zuko sits, leaning on the futon for support. He pulls Katara into his lap, and she’s pliant, immediately melting in his hold. Hands coming out to wrap around his neck. “Check your school portal,” he says into her ear. She laughs at the sensation. 
  “Why?” She’s breathless, when he rubs comforting circles into her back. Zuko finds her phone, thrown carelessly on the futon, before gingerly handing it to her. After she types in the login information, she gasps, the sound reverberating through the room. Zuko blushes, and rubs the back of his neck gingerly. 
  “Happy 4/20, baby,” he presses a sweet kiss to her hair, wiping away the pricks of tears appearing at her eyes. 
  “ You’re lying !” She couldn’t believe her eyes, and thinks she’s a little dizzy from how many times she zooms in and out of the tuition financial statement. “You’re fucking lying!” The bill, formerly with a nauseating number of zeros was now only $0.00. “How?” she splutters, even spitting in her haste. 
  “Toph knew your portal login, so I just kind of...paid it off?” He’s doing the thing where he’s rubbing at his neck and looking shy, and so so positively adorable . The sheepish look he gives her makes it known that she was screwed . So absolutely in love. “I want you to not worry about it. Save the money from your job for something else.” The kiss she slams against his lips nearly knocks his breath away. 
  //
  “So what’s your plan, after paying all this off?” Zuko remembered Toph asking, after she entered Katara's password. 
  “After this, she’s catching all this ball juice. Going to suck her eggs out her ovaries like it’s boba. I’ll even use the straw and everything,” Zuko says, entering the pin of his debit card. 
  “You know what. She should have let you die that night.” 
  //
  “Who knew there would be perks to dating a drug dealer?” Toph teases.  “Girls be so single and then boom ! Baby shower pictures with some drug dealer in a Burberry shirt and Nike Air Maxes.”
  Suki groans. “Toph, I swear. You are a hindrance to society.” 
  “Well, you’re a cunt!” 
  She shoves the smaller girl. She gets up to face Katara, still staring at her phone in shock. Her hair is a bird’s nest after growing two sizes two large and painfully matted.  “You know, we thought we were bad friends for letting you date a drug dealer with mommy and daddy issues. We just sat there and prayed that our ‘we’re so happy for you guys!’ was convincing. But, I kind of like him.” 
  “Thanks for the support,” Zuko grumbles. 
  “Anytime!” The two say, perfectly synchronized.
  “Like MJ doctor, they killing me,” Zuko sighs, dropping his head in the crook of her neck, defeated. Katara’s heart nearly bursts because he’s so cute . A big bad drug dealer, but she still was squeezing at his cheeks like they were mochi, and he was dumbly smiling back. 
  “Why do you always quote Nicki Minaj lyrics when you’re high?” She thinks she can’t feel her face, the excessive smiling numbing her features. 
  He’s bombed, stomach growling from getting the munchies and devouring an entire box of Suki’s Wheat Thins cereal and he thinks he feels his heart about to explode. Whether it’s Katara’s sweet, sweet smile, or her body pressing to his, he’s not sure. She’s soft and perfect and everything he could have asked for. He’s sure he’s in love, the type of love that was dangerous and stupid and promised to consume him whole. Yet, he’s all but offered his heart on a silver platter to Katara. Her presence in his life was a constant he was willing to fight to keep. 
  “I love you,” he mumbles against her lips.
  “I know.” She stares into his eyes, before grabbing his hand. “I love you more.” 
  “Impossible.” 
  She pokes his chest in protest. 
  “Say it again, please?” Zuko begs, voice whiny. Her kiss was an adequate confirmation of the sentiment.  
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