#i see a lot of modern au zuko serving looks

[candle-scm]

so what if modern au zuko constantly dressed like a middle schooler waiting for soccer practice to start

[the-violet-galaxy]

Heyo :D For the wip game, Fire Nomad Avatar Zuko (or, Avatar Zuko: The Last Fire Nomad)?

Hey thanks!

This fic is a complete AU of the Avatar World. The four nations have all had their roles swapped, and so have the characters. There are the Fire Nomads, the Air Tribes, the Water Kingdom, and the Earth Nation.

Zuko is the Avatar, born to the Fire Nomads.

As per tradition, no one was supposed to tell Zuko he was the Avatar until he turned 16. But Ozai, for reasons unknown to those around him, took Zuko aside and revealed this to him when he was only 8 years old. Of course Zuko was excited when he was still so young........ but the fic itself starts when Zuko is 12; he's starting to realize what being the Avatar really entails, and he’s filled with insecurities and resentments. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the AVATAR is one that no child can take without breaking. And it's tenfold worse for Zuko, because his predecessor is Kyoshi, considered the greatest Avatar in modern record, who is revered and venerated by the world. Zuko looks to her great image, and when he looks back to himself, he doesn't compare to her at all.

He tries so hard to live up to her. But his failings are right in front of him: his own younger sister, Azula, outmatches him at EVERYTHING he ever tries to do; she is the prodigy Firebender, she is the one who can get people to do what she wants. Ozai praises her, and has nothing but criticism for Zuko. This instills within Zuko a toxic mindset about what he should do, and what an Avatar should be.

And things can get a lot worse... because we know what happened to the Air Nomads in canon…

-

The Earth Nation attacks the world. Their ideology is essentially this: When you move the Earth, you move everything else with it. To your will you can shape rivers, mountains, nature, human civilization; at their greatest cooperation, they can even cause tsunamis or make volcanoes erupt. In this way, even if they can’t BEND them, they believe they can “artificially control” Water and Fire as well. (The only element they can’t “artificially control” is Air….. Which becomes very important for Zuko.) The goal of the Earth Nation is to conquer all other people, so that they may shape the world to their desire.

-

The next stop on Zuko’s journey, he comes to one of the Air Tribes and meets Aang, who takes him back to his village where he starts learning Airbending with Gyatso. Zuko is a terrible Airbender because his only emotion is "anger." He also doesn't get that his reckless actions could harm people other than himself, which is a flaw he has to overcome. His character development and ability to Airbend are linked.

Aang becomes the first of Zuko’s Team Avatar. (Katara and Sokka come in muuuch much later.)

-

Being an Avatar, Zuko needs someone to incessantly try to capture him. That person is Toph. (And Toph has a really kooky old guy to serve as her Iroh.) Toph’s story is this: she grew up in the corrupted court, and was treated as a dainty waif due to her blindness. But Toph is one of the strongest Earthbenders in the world, and she wants to be treated as competently as anyone else; she wished to be useful as a soldier in the war. When she learns there is a chance the Avatar can be found, she intentionally runs away from home to go on a journey to capture him herself; if she succeeds, she believes, then surely, her parents will see her worth and change their mind about her! (…Except no, because, though Toph doesn’t know it yet, the main villains had plans involving her, and her running away was THE LAST THING THEY WOULD *EVER POSSIBLY* WANT HER TO DO…)

(All this is for Book 1)

-

The WIP is 80,000 words already, but I haven’t posted any of it yet, because I wanted Book 1 to be finished (or close to finished) before I started posting.

I already have a TON of worldbuilding for all the nations and characters, but this would get too long, so I’ll leave it there with the bones of the story.

[mellowdreamer]

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO VERSE.

this is a modern bending vigilante/hero au featuring zukka, mailee, yueki and a lot of hijinks!

the gaang are all 16-19 here, because while bruce wayne apparently has no problem with it, i’m not comfortable with having vigilantes who haven’t yet gone through puberty.

the avatar world is just one big city, and each of the nations/cities are different suburbs of the city.

kyoshi island, ember island, and boiling rock are small islands off of the city, similar to singapore’s sentosa island.

the city (republic city? i dunno, get back to me on this one) is full of heroes, vigilantes and villains alike. the fire nation is a criminal empire intent on taking over the city. the avatar is a hero who works to keep the balance of heroes and villains in the city, and stop the entire city from becoming a war zone. 

however, the avatar disappeared 100 years ago, and no one was chosen to take up the mantle since. in the avatar’s absence, the fire nation was able to begin its quest to take over the city.

the heroes of the southern water tribe that were left after the various raids have left the southern water suburb on a mission to defeat the fire nation or die.

hakoda, alias chief, left his two young children in charge of their territory, despite them being a) children and b) relatively untrained.

katara, alias painted lady, is the only waterbender left in the southern water tribe. sokka, alias captain boomerang, is the only trained combat hero left in the southern water tribe. all those remaining are either children or incapable of fighting.

side tangent: when sokka does well, he calls himself “grand marshal boomerang” and when he does badly, he calls himself “private boomerang”. thank you to the crimily for coming up with this one!!

one night, when katara and sokka are out on patrol, they get chased by fire nation goons into the ice off of the southern harbour. there, they get into a fight over sokka’s sexist remarks and katara’s yelling having attracted the fire nation goons, and katara’s waterbending gets out of control. she breaks open an iceberg, only to find someone in there.

the two siblings approach the iceberg and break the person out. they are shocked to find a young boy in the unmistakable uniform of the avatar, resting next to a creature they’ve never seen before.

they wake the boy up, to find that his name is aang and he’s the next avatar. and that he has no idea of the fire nation’s quest to conquer the entire city, or the fact that the air nomads – heroes that didn’t resign to just one area of the city – hadn’t been seen for the same hundred years that he must’ve spent in the iceberg.

katara and a reluctant sokka take aang back to the apartment building where the remaining southern water suburb residents have been living and introduce him to everyone.

later that night, the three go out on patrol together. it’s a quiet night, and sokka thinks they might actually get through it without any incidents, until they find a woman being mugged.

sokka and katara are about to intervene, but aang takes down both thugs in a matter of seconds. aang, ignoring the slack jawed shock of his friends, asks if they could go penguin sledding. katara goes to agree, but is cut off by the shout of “MY HONOUR” from a nearby rooftop.

zuko, alias dragon prince, runs from the rooftop before they could find him. his father ozai, alias firelord, had sent him and his uncle iroh – formerly dragon of the west, now retired – to find the avatar. zuko had been banished from the fire nation territory years ago, after speaking up about a plan that would’ve cost them a whole division of goons and refusing to fight his father in an agni kai.

the kyoshi warriors are similar to the birds of prey or the amazons; they’re an all-female crime-fighting unit not directly associated with any of the kingdoms or nations. suki is their leader, and they don’t have secret identities like the other heroes.

iroh, bumi, piandao, jeong-jeong and p*kku are all retired heroes and a part of the order of the white lotus.

toph is the blind bandit and a hero, albeit a less morally structured and ‘good’ hero than the avatar, the painted lady, and captain boomerang. she was a part of the underground fighting ring ‘earth rumble’ when the gaang infiltrated the ring looking for intel and convinced her that her powers could be used for something better than beating bitches blue and making bank while doing it.

azula is firebolt, and she is as brilliant as she is terrifying. she’s arguably more feared than the firelord, mainly because she’s the one who frequents other areas and actually goes on missions. ozai just sits on his stupid throne and yells at people and manipulates his children like the little bitch he is.

mai and ty lee are azula’s sidekicks, and are known as blade and tightrope respectively. also: they’re lesbians, harold.

yue is a part of the northern water tribe’s group of heroes, alongside her family. they tried to marry her off to hahn and have her trained in healing instead of fighting, but she rebelled and threatened to go out on her own, so they relented. yue’s hero alias is tui, but she will be called sailor moon at least three times.

jet and his freedom fighters are a group of anti-heroes who aren’t afraid to hurt innocent people in their pursue of ‘justice’.

zhao is a villain who works for the firelord, under the alias admiral, and he’s an asshole. using the yuyan archers, he manages to capture aang and takes him to a fire nation stronghold. zuko finds out about this, and not wanting admiral asshole to get the upper hand, dresses as the blue spirit for the first time to rescue aang.

during the siege of the north, zhao “kills” yue. she fakes her own death and disappears into hiding until the final battle, in which she kills zhao because it’s what she deserves.

the gaang know that yue is alive, because she’s nice enough to not do them like that, but they have to keep up appearances. because of this, sokka amps up the heartbreak and clings to suki a lot. that’s why a lot of outsiders begin to think that sokka dated yue and is dating suki, though in reality yue and suki are dating each other.

zuko and iroh, after the siege of the north and a trap set by azula, disappear into hiding and decide to take refuge in ba sing se, knowing that the fire nation wouldn’t think to look for them there.

ba sing se is a section of the city that has been fenced off in order to prevent an influx of heroes and villains. the dai li, who keep a tight grip on the suburb and ensure that the residents don’t know of the war raging outside the walls, are a group of “heroes”.

of course, the fence does nothing to prevent zuko and iroh, the gaang, and later azula, mai and ty lee from entering ba sing se and turning it into their own warzone.

iroh fulfils his dream of finally owning a tea shop and zuko, when not working in the tea shop, spends his nights lingering in the shadows of ba sing se as the blue spirit.

sokka, desperate for a warm drink and something to do while the others do their bending training, wanders into the jasmine dragon one afternoon and is served by “lee”.

neither know the other’s civilian identity, so there’s no shady business, just pining over the cute customer/server. sokka strikes a conversion and the two begin flirting chatting. it’s going really well, and you can almost see the romance blooming.

and then in walks azula, flanked by mai and ty lee, all in costume.

sokka and zuko both leap up from their seats and into fighting stances. both are confused as to why the other jumped up, and then azula calls zuko brother and it clicks in sokka’s mind.

he starts yelling at zuko for a lot of things, including yue’s “death” which is how zuko realises who he is. zuko starts yelling back because he’s only once met a fight he didn’t like. in the background of this argument, iroh is trying to fight azula, mai and ty lee to varying degrees of success.

it’s funny that i say degrees, because this is when azula sets fire to the jasmine dragon. iroh grabs the two dumbass arguing teens and shoves them outside as he too runs, telling zuko to meet at their rendezvous point at sunrise.

azula, mai and ty lee chase after zuko and sokka (who are still arguing as they run from the three girls). mai and ty lee don’t want to chase them, because zuko has always been better to them than azula, but defying azula would be a death sentence.

sokka pulls zuko into a building for coverage, and because azula is azula, she summons the dai li and has them surround the building. there would be no leaving without confronting the dai li, and thus zuko and sokka are trapped.

sokka confronts zuko and basically asks how he could justify the fire nation’s villainy, how he could support a monster who’s killing hundreds of people. zuko defends his father blindly because he’s been raised to believe that his father is right, that his father has to be right, and this southern water scum is wrong. but zuko’s losing his grip on the argument and is becoming more and more hysterical but sokka is so calm, so sure of himself, and the dam finally breaks.

zuko crumples to the ground in tears, and now sokka’s gotta deal with this because ozai is a shitface and has been brainwashing his son for years and wow fuck the fire nation.

mai and ty lee, having taken down the dai li, burst in to find zuko crying his eyes out in sokka’s arms. they teasingly ask if they’re interrupting something and laugh as zuko next to sprints out of the building, sokka hot on his heels.

this is the last straw for zuko, who defects from the fire nation, hangs up his dragon prince uniform and fully becomes the blue spirit, a hero who works with the gaang to eventually take down the fire nation.

also, at some stage zuko rescues a turtleduck that got stuck up a tree. don’t ask me how this happens.

[tiredcath]

Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through. 

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

 Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

 First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

 The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

 AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

 it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

 People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

 a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

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or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

 Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

 Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

 It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

 Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

 The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

 Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

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WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

 Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

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BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

[army-of-mai-lovers]

ATLA Fic Recs part 2!

part 1 (consider this link a re-rec of everything I recced in part 1, bc those fics are still amazing and at this point many of them that weren’t complete are finished now which is cool!) 

So I’m structuring this fic recs list a little differently than I did the first one. First one was just “fics I like” with no regard to how popular the fics were and a little bit of thought as to balancing gen fics with ship fics and trying to have a diversity of ships listed. This time, I am paying attention to how popular the fics are, and while I’m probably still going to rec popular fics/fic authors, I’m hoping to also expose people to some new authors with this list (as well as exposing people to work from their favorite authors that they may not have read)! Expanding your horizons is a really good thing, it’s how I’ve found basically every fic I love, and I hope y’all will love each of the fics I’m reccing as much as I do! In no particular order: 

1.  her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you by @aangsblush I said that I was going to rec this a couple days ago and here I am doing it because HOW ON EARTH IS THIS FIC AS BRILLIANT AS IT IS AND NOT LIGHTING THE FANDOM ON FIRE RIGHT NOW. I’ve genuinely never read a fic like this before. Never in my life. It’s a collection of vignettes, mostly dealing with Hakoda and Sokka’s various experiences of grief with Kya and Yue (and there’s a little bit of cute bakoda and sukka sprinkled in there as well). Like I said, the chapters were vignettes, some of them as short as two or three sentences, and yet somehow I was crying after every single chapter???? The author uses language so sparingly and so impactfully and I truly cannot get over how brilliant this is like bruh. who gave you the right. Who. Who. Tbh I could make a whole post about this fic (and I have!) but instead, I’m going to direct you to the fic, bc really, it speaks for itself. 

2. laughter lines by @bi-suki To be completely real, I tend not to read sad fics, or seek out sad media in general, but I read this fic and I’m so glad I did. It’s a modern au about Sokka and his family moving to Anchorage, separating him from his childhood best friend, Yue. Make sure you read the tags before you read this fic, please. It’s really sad. I started tearing up while writing out just that quick summary. Keep a box of tissues handy. I’ve read a lot of this author’s fics and they all have a habit of sticking in my head long after I’ve read them, but this one really packs a punch. Sokka’s grief and his friendship with Yue is written in such an intimate and beautiful way, and yes, I literally am crying right now thinking about it. I do think it’s hard to pull off writing yukka, especially in a modern au, while giving appropriate depth to both Sokka and Yue, but this fic really managed it so well. Even though this fic made me sad, I don’t regret reading it one bit.

3. call it fate by @bluberry-spicehead y’all are really converting me into a maiko shipper and honestly I’m so here for it. Mai’s one of my favorite characters in ATLA, and the care that the fic takes in portraying her perspective as well as her relationships with Zuko, Azula, and Ty Lee (despite the fact that Zuko isn’t even there when the fic takes place)--I mean, it’s honestly just incredible work. I’ve seen a lot of joke-y posts about “oh what if x happened with Aunt Wu instead of what happened in canon?” but never with Maiko and never quite the way this fic describes it. It’s really original and really carefully done, with all the complexity and nuance of their relationship infused into the details of the fic. And the way that Mai is written is both in character for her and expands on existing canon in a way that I really believe works for her. The writing is so immediate and really roots you in the world and in Mai’s head and I love it I love it I love it! 

4. i am your savior, your last serving daughter by @gays4korra *sokka voice* SUKI! Bruh. BRUH. The amount that I love both Suki and Kyoshi cannot be overstated, they’re both such fascinating and complex characters, and yet some people (*cough* the fandom *cough*) don’t want to see them in their full and complete brilliance. Enter this fic, which shows Suki and Kyoshi meeting, like someone saw my wildest dreams and was like “hey that’s a cool fic idea!” The TEARS I cried reading this fic (yes, I am aware that this is the fourth time I’ve mentioned crying over a fic in just this one post, these fic authors are incredibly talented and I have three planets in Cancer, fight me) Suki and Kyoshi, icons themselves, conversing across time???? iconic. simply iconic. And then the fact that Sokka orchestrated the whole thing because he wanted to make Suki happy? I love them, your honor. And Kyoshi being happy that Suki looks up to her because really Kyoshi’s a fluffy dork with self-esteem issues.... I’m crying again it’s so beautiful I’ve looked at it for five hours now. Gosh. read this fic. 

5. Balance My Heart in The Palm of Your Hands by @spookysukki ok while looking for this person’s tumblr I found out that this was their first work in the fandom and can I just say pal you POPPED OFF with this one fic and I hope that you write more because this was. This was awesome. Mailee is def in my top 5 (possibly top 2) ATLA ships but unfortunately I have a hard time finding content for it. Fortunately, every time I do find content for it it’s incredibly cute and this was absolutely no exception. It’s also the rare Mai & Sokka friendship fic which is not something I knew I needed in my life but is a concept that I am completely obsessed with having read this. Basically, Mai’s jealous of Sokka because Ty Lee keeps talking about Sokka being attractive, and shenanigans ensue. And you know me, I love shenanigans. This is also a Mai perspective fic which is awesome because as I said earlier, I love love LOVE Mai, and she’s so sweet and broody in this lsfjskdfjk I love her so much what an icon. 

5. earth system history by @pianjeong I have read this fic. So many times. I could honestly probably recite it from memory (jfdksjflsd ok that’s not true but at this rate I probably will be able to soon). It is an absolutely stunning fic. It’s like all my favorite parts of college condensed into one story (running around buildings you probably shouldn’t be in in the middle of the night with the person you have a crush on, coming out to your professor who is also gay, all iconic college moods). I’m simply obsessed with the way each character is written, and it’s so clear that the author knows what she’s talking about when it comes to geology, and that in general this fic was written with a lot of love for the characters of ATLA and also for rocks. It’s that love that keeps me coming back to this one. Cannot recommend it enough. 

6. the end is barely beginning by @katarahairloopies  gosh I don’t even know where to start with this one other than I cannot believe that it almost wasn’t posted and I’m so glad that it was because you truly can never have enough father/son moments between Hakoda and Sokka and I care them. I care them so much. Also can I just say Hakoda not remembering all of Sokka and Katara’s friends’ names and having to really think about it is such a dad mood. I can’t remember a single time in my life where my dad could remember all of my friends’ names (and there were points in my life where he would have only had to remember one name and yet. and yet.) I really love ATLA fics that are character studies because they tend to really retain the complexity of the characters as they’re depicted in the show (or make them more complex) and this one is no exception. There were so many lines of this that were just really poignant and beautiful. Again, cannot recommend it enough. 

[madsthewordclown]

Four Walls | Sokka

warning: just lots of fluff because I wanted to

pairing: sokka x reader, modern au

summary: Quarantine is stressful, but Sokka’s a pretty great roommate to be stuck with. 

Y’all, this is my first fic I’ve ever written and I apologize in advance, and thank you for bearing with me. 

          “Traditionally, you’re meant to cook the noodles.” Sokka pretends not to hear you. Or maybe he really can’t hear you over the loud crunching of uncooked penne. There’s an empty jar of sauce on the table across from where he sits, crunching down dry noodles like its chips. You walk over to get a bottle of water from the fridge and notice two of your reusable milkshake straws sitting in the sink. Looking back the jar of sauce, you shudder.

           “Traditionally, the noodles aren’t meant to be whole-grain,” Sokka answers finally, as if the situation he is in is completely normal. The box of pasta now sits empty on the table, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “How was work?”

         “Fine,” you answer. “Can I ask why you didn’t just boil the noodles? Weren’t they awful?” You know you’re deflecting about work, but it’s not a big deal. The restaurant had only just started to reopen, and you only got one or two shifts a week, but dealing with customers felt more grueling than ever. You knew Sokka missed having something to do, so you couldn’t complain too much.

           “Cooking them is too much work, Y/N,” Sokka replies matter-of-factly, “and they were awful, but I had to finish what I started.”

           Quarantine is not treating either of you well. For you, the strain manifests itself much more quietly; you haven’t been sleeping very well, and you get headaches more frequently than normal. For Sokka, it’s this. You don’t know how much orange juice he’s consumed straight from the carton, but it can’t be good for his teeth. Drinking tomato sauce can’t be too good, either, although he somehow manages to maintain his good looks nonetheless.

           “Katara called while you were gone,” Sokka mentions as you plunk yourself down in the chair across from him.

           “She did?” You frown. You and Sokka didn’t get too many calls from his sister or any of your other friends anymore. When quarantine started, you had frequent group calls and virtual game nights, but over time, they kind of fizzled out. You missed seeing everyone’s faces. While Sokka was a great friend and a great roommate, you couldn’t help but wish you were all under the same roof.

           “Yeah,” Sokka continues, standing up and picking up the empty pasta box and jar. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; it may be fit for a Midwestern dad, but at least he put on a full outfit today. Quarantine hasn’t exactly required it. “She’s scheduling a movie night for this Saturday. You’re off work, right? I tried to see if you sent me your schedule, I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it.”

           “Yeah, I only worked today and then Friday this week,” you say excitedly. “Is everyone joining?”

           “Suki can’t make it,” Sokka shrugged, walking across the kitchen to rinse out the jar, “but Zuko and Toph will be there. And Katara and Aang, obviously.”

           You kick your shoes off under the table and feel the tension in your feet ease slightly as Sokka turns on the faucet. Your shift was busy, considering the circumstances. You yawn. “What movie are we watching?”

           “I don’t know, some indie film she and Aang found,” Sokka says, turning off the water and bending down to put the jar and box in the hot pink recycling tub you keep under the sink. Katara had brought it in one day after learning that Sokka didn’t recycle. You could still hear her telling him off about plastics in the ocean. She had been very pleased when she saw your small collection of reusable grocery bags. Good guys recycle, Sokka. Right, Y/N?

           “What’s with the outfit?” You can’t help but say. You notice that Sokka is wearing tennis shoes without socks along with his vacation ensemble. He grins at you again, blue eyes sparkling as he begins walking toward the door to his room.

           “Setting trends, Y/N/,” he laughs, “get with the program.”

           You wake up at four in the morning, again. You know before you’ve even opened your eyes that you are awake way too early; it’s happened at least three times in the last two weeks. You slowly peek your eyes open and pick up your phone, flinching as the bright light hits your face. 4:08. You sigh.

           You slowly pull yourself out of bed and easily leave your room without needing the lights, but the main room is more difficult. You have no clue what you and Sokka have left out on the floor in the last few days. You put one arm straight out in front of you to detect obstacles, and curse to yourself about leaving your phone on the nightstand.

           You carefully walk by what you think is the couch and swing your arm none too gently to find it. To your surprise, you hit something that definitely isn’t the couch.

           “Ow!” a voice cries out. You let out a scream, and jump back, falling on the carpeted floor with a thump. “Whoa,” Sokka says, and you feel relief flood over you. It’s just Sokka. You try to let your heartbeat slow down. “Are you okay?”

           Sokka must have gotten up and found the light switch. You see him in the corner of the room, his hair pulled up, and wearing his same Hawaiian shirt, but with basketball shorts. An even more atrocious outfit. You laugh to yourself as you continue to get your bearings. Sokka makes his way over to where you sit behind the couch and offers a hand to help you up. You take it.

           “You scared the shit out of me,” you say shakily as he helps you to your feet.

           “I’m sorry,” Sokka says sincerely. “I didn’t think you’d be up. Could you not sleep?”

           You shake your head. Sokka doesn’t press; just nods. “What were you doing in here?” You ask.

           “Same thing, but it’s probably because I drank too much coffee after dinner.”

           “How much coffee is too much?” Sokka just shakes his head slowly.

           “Too much, Y/N.” He looks at the ground for a moment. “Want to watch a show or something?”

           It becomes a routine for the next few days; watching shitty cartoons and soap operas with Sokka whenever you wake up in the night. He’s somehow awake every time, and you try not to dwell on it. You’re not one to talk. It’s nice, sitting with him and watching something that lets you not think for a while. That’s your problem; overthinking about anything and everything. You get to forget about work, where a customer coughing sends you into such a spiral that you have to spend ten minutes in the back room to calm down. You’re looking forward to it when you get home from your Friday shift.

           Sokka is in his room when you arrive, close to 11, even though your shift was meant to end at 10. You pull your shoes off as soon as you’re in the door and drop your purse on the floor, not even bothering to get to the kitchen table or couch before you’re lying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling. You don’t even hear it when Sokka comes out of his room and stands over you.

           “That bad, huh?” He says simply. You try not to notice the sympathy in his eyes, or the way his brow softens when he looks at you. You just nod your head and try to block out the echoing yells of an angry mom that you served earlier, and the mere $25_ _you brought home for tips after hours on your feet, working in a pandemic hellscape.

           Instead of trying to coax you up off the ground, Sokka disappears into the kitchen, the counter obscuring your view. You can hear him open and close a cupboard before he reappears, a bag of Doritos in hand.

           You can’t stop the shocked look on your face as Sokka slowly sits down next to you and then leans back on the floor. The bag of chips crinkles as he opens it and sets it on the floor between you. You wordlessly take out a few chips and start snacking. Even though Sokka has only been your roommate for a few months, you’re still impressed by how perceptive he is. He always seems to know what to do to make you feel better. You feel bad that you can’t do the same for him.

           Sokka talks about his latest project for his online summer class. It’s something to do with engineering, and you try to listen, but he gets to talking so fast and excitedly that you can’t keep up. You don’t understand most of what he’s saying anyway, but you like listening to him talk. Katara says he can’t shut up, and most of the time she’s right, but you like his passion.

           Between the two of you, you manage to finish the whole bag of Doritos. You can tell your air conditioning has shut off again when the blistering July heat begins to creep in, and that’s when you make the executive decision that it’s time to get off the floor. You turn to your side and are surprised to discover that Sokka is looking at you, and he’s not talking. You don’t know when he stopped, but you already miss it.

           “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sokka whispers, so quietly that you almost wonder if he said it at all, but he’s looking at you for an answer, his blue eyes boring into you.

           “Yeah,” you answer equally as quietly, your voice hoarse after lying silent for so long. You bite your lip and let your hand fall between you and Sokka. You ask something you should’ve asked a while ago. “What about you?”

           Sokka glances away for a moment and sighs. “I just miss people, you know?” You nod. He continues. “We haven’t seen Katara in, I don’t know, two months? I know we don’t always get along, but I miss her, and I know that she has to be careful, we all have to be careful, but that doesn’t make it less hard, y’know?

           “And it’s not just our friends, or even my dad or anything. Just people. I miss being around people, and not having any sort of outlet, you know? Just four walls.”

           “And little-old-me,” you add jokingly. Sokka rolls his eyes.

           “Four walls and you,” he amends. You try to ignore the rush you feel when he lets his hand brush against your own.

           “Want to watch a show or something?”

           Saturday night can’t come soon enough, and when you come out of your room after your shower, you’re surprised and excited to see that Sokka has gone all out with the movie night. The movie has to be streamed on the computer, so Sokka has his laptop set up on the coffee table, ready to go. You smell the popcorn he has popping in the microwave.

           “Ready for the best quarantine movie ever?” He greets, then jumps as the popcorn begins to pop almost aggressively in the microwave.

           “Of course,” you reply, hopping yourself over the back of the couch and pulling the throw blanket there over yourself. “I can’t wait to see everybody. It’s been too long.”

           Sokka is careful not to burn the popcorn and even goes as far as to dump it out of the bag and into an actual bowl for the two of you. He comes over and takes a seat next to you; you’ve both opted for sweatpants, as you both tend to do even though it’s the middle of summer. It’s not like you’re leaving the house, although Sokka still complains about the heat sometimes.

           You hop onto the voice call with the others at exactly 8 o’clock. Zuko is already there, of course, as well as Katara and Aang. It only takes Toph a few seconds to join after you.

           “Hi, guys!” Katara exclaims, waving at her camera. She’s already pressed up against Aang’s side on the sofa in their apartment, and he’s leaning his head on her shoulder. Their huge white dog, Appa, can just barely be seen at the bottom of the screen, laying across their laps.

           “Hey, Katara!” You respond excitedly, leaning in closer to the camera. “I miss you guys so much!”

           “Hey, Sokka, how’s your class going?” Zuko asks. Immediately, Sokka begins a tangent about whatever his latest project is. Zuko matches his enthusiasm with talk about his screenwriting class.

           “Nerds,” Toph mutters, crossing her arms. You laugh.

           “You guys ready to start the movie?” Zuko says. Aang gives a thumbs up into the webcam.

           “Flameo, hotman.”

           The movie is, of course, frequently interrupted by you and your friends’ commentary. Sokka has had to shush you multiple times, as you keep leaning over and whispering dumb observations and jokes in his ear. You aren’t one to take any movie too seriously, and this indie film is no exception. But you don’t think Aang would appreciate your comments, since he looks like he’s about to tear up as he leans into Katara before the movie is even halfway through.

           “Sokka, you look pretty cozy,” Katara giggles suddenly. You didn’t realize it, but now that you were paying attention, you could feel Sokka’s side pressed up against you as you both leaned in to better see the laptop screen. You can see now that his arm is draped over the couch behind you.

           “What? What’s happening?” Toph asks, and Zuko starts to laugh a little bit. To your surprise, Sokka doesn’t pull away.

           “I am, thanks,” he says, trying to be nonchalant, but still letting a sheepish smile sneak past his lips.

           “Okay, then,” Katara smiles, refocusing on the movie. Your heart flutters a bit as you remember where you are. With Sokka. Your roommate. Who you don’t need to have feelings for, but you think you might be doing it anyway.

           You feel your eyes getting droopier as the movie goes on, and you don’t really pay attention anymore. Before you know it, you can’t seem to get your eyes open anymore, and the sounds of the movie and your friends’ laughter fades away.

           You wake up to the sound of laughter. The movie is gone, and the screen is entirely taken up by your friends’ faces.

           “Oh, look,” Zuko says, “sleepy head’s finally awake.”

           “Shut up,” you groan. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until the moment, and you hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep… on Sokka. Your head rested on his shoulder, and his right arm was around you. One of your hands was resting on his lap. Your friends started laughing again, and you jerked your hand away, but didn’t quite sit up. You still felt too tired for that.

           “Well, we should probably go,” Katara said finally, although Aang was already definitely half asleep on her shoulder. Zuko and Toph muttered something similar, and everyone said their goodbyes. Sokka reached with his left arm to exit the call but left the laptop on.

           You feel Sokka gently grab your hand as your eyes start to drift shut once again, sleep too tempting to refuse. You feel him lean down and whisper in your ear, always careful, “Is this okay?”

           You nod into his shoulder, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief as he rests his head on yours. It would always be okay. And you didn’t need to talk about it yet, although you’d have to eventually. For tonight, though, while the world raged on, it was just you and him, and the four walls of your apartment. And while the months of quarantine seemed to stretch on forever, you knew you had someone to hold on to.

[patchofsunlight]

Backyard Boy | Sokka x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Mordern!AU | Sokka goes out on a date with his best friend, and it goes as perfectly as he longed it to.

REQUEST (by anon): “In my Sokka feels so I thought I’d request! Could be modern or not but the reader would be in the gang and is best friends with Sokka (who has a fat crush on her). One day he asks her to go on a picnic, just the 2 of them, she doesn’t know if it’s a date or not so she asks her gal pals for help getting ready. She and Sokka have fun (piggyback rides, eating food, making eachother laugh) at the end of their date they cuddle, look into eachothers eyes and kiss. Their friends called it! Thank you!💕”

WORD COUNT: 2.6k this is the first thing I’ve ever posted here with less than 5k I’m proud

WARNINGS: yes I made Jin from Ba Sing Se Y/N’s friend. I think there’s one swear word near the end? also just teeth-rotting fluff. a bit of angst if you squint but like just a little. bad editing as usual. kinda rushed? idk

PLAYLIST (songs that help set the ~vibe + songs that inspired me): Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz ; Electric Love by BØRNS, I Do Adore by Mindy Gledhill ; Lucky by Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat.

Hey! I had a lot of fun and smiled a lot while writing this, so I hope you guys like it too! It’s not perfect, but I tried my best. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading!

(not my gif)

“You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea, Jin. Maybe I got it all wrong. I should just cancel.”

“Absolutely not. If you cancel, I’ll be forced to punch you in the face, and no one wants that.”

“You don’t even have the guts to punch me in the face.”

“True. Well, I’ll just get someone else to do it.”

Y/N smiled nervously at her friend’s words, fidgeting.

Sokka and she had been best friends for a long while. They had met years ago and clicked instantly, falling in pace with each other so easily that “impressive” was a big understatement — friendship at first sight, he called it. And yet Y/N yearned for more, trying miserably to conceal her dazed smiles and flushed cheeks whenever he as much as looked her way. Her feelings were obvious, but she was too afraid to act on them: it was easier to just leave it alone, pretend the pounding of her heart when around him was ignorable, and maintain her dear relationship with pretty boy Sokka secure. Y/N would choose never having her feelings returned over losing him any day of the week, and it was probably for the best. 

She couldn’t lose him, she refused to — he was more important than whatever love she gathered in her chest, than letting go of the suffocating confession always lingering on the tip of her tongue, and she simply wouldn’t let herself lose him.

Y/N was finally settling for the friendship and painful longing when the Water Tribe boy came to her during one of the Gaang’s movie nights, scratching his neck shyly and avoiding her stare.

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice was slightly high-pitched and he cleared his throat, blushing lightly, talking quietly so as to not disturb the others around them, “I—I was thinking—maybe we could, I don’t know, hang out? Tomorrow?”

“That sounds great, Sokka. Didn’t Toph want to try that new restaurant that opened near the Jasmine Dragon?” she replied almost absentmindedly, eyes trained on the scene playing on the television.

“No, Y/N, I—I thought—Well, what if it was just the two of us?”

Now that had caught her attention, “oh.”

“Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I—”

“I’d love to, Sokka.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly, cheeks reddening, and Sokka wondered if she could hear his heart skip a beat inside his chest.

“That’s great. I—” he couldn’t stop his own face from blazing pink, a grin taking over his lips, “I was thinking of a picnic?”

Cue to the present moment, in which Y/N freaked out about misunderstanding Sokka’s words because he had never really called it a date and she had gotten all excited about it as if that’s what it was but what if it wasn’t?

“I don’t know, Jin,” she peeked at her own reflection, noticing how pretty she looked and how flawlessly Jin had styled her hair. Spirits, Y/N had overdone it, hadn’t she? “Maybe he just wanted to spend some time with his best friend and I just projected what I wanted onto that and—”

“Y/N, stop,” the Ba Sing Se girl held her forearms to intercept the frantic movements, “I’m pretty sure he sees you as much more than a friend, okay? You guys have been dancing around each other’s feelings for years now, everyone sees it,” she widened her eyes to emphasize her words, “so stop being crazy and just go meet him! Even if we’re all wrong and he wants nothing to do with you romantically, you can still go and have a good time, right?”

“Right,” Y/N muttered in response, breathing deeply, “right, you’re right. I’m just—I’m just gonna go.”

“Yes! Good luck! It’s gonna be great, I’m sure of it!”

-----

Food, drinks, flowers, extra sweatshirt, the comfy blankets he had stolen from Katara’s apartment, all the courage he could muster, her favorite candy, the blue shirt she had said looked good on him. Yeah, it seemed like he had it all pretty much covered.

Sokka was nervous, yet confident. She had accepted to go on a date with him and he had done the best he could to make sure it would be a lovely afternoon Y/N would absolutely adore. Everything would go as planned and, if he was lucky, he would leave Y/N’s favorite park with a girlfriend.

However, nothing could have prepared him for finally seeing her. She looked as beautiful as always, but there was something about her shy smile and sparkling eyes that made his heart jump around so quickly Sokka thought it might just break through his chest and run towards her.

His best friend walked to him with hands behind her back, endearingly bashful in that old manner that had slowly creeped its way into Sokka’s thoughts and heart. He beamed at her when she reached him, and moved for a hug she gladly returned.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet and shy and it made the Water Tribe boy melt on the spot, “did I make you wait for too long?”

“No, of course not,” Y/N took a step back from the hug and he immediately missed her warmth. Spirits, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Do you want to sit down? Katara helped me make those sandwiches you like.”

Her eyes widened in excitement, quickly remembering how easy it was to be around her best friend and how pointless it was to be shy with him, “yes! Sure!”

Their banter was lighthearted while they ate their sandwiches and sipped on some orange juice, laying on Katara’s soft blanket. He couldn’t help but admire her figure, her smile, her eyes, her voice, tuning out from her anecdote momentarily and simply appreciating her presence. He liked her so much.

Y/N paused when she noticed Sokka’s stare, gaze filled with affection sending chills down her spine. She stared back at him, feeling her face blush, “I feel like I should have brought something,” she complained, touching the candy bar the boy had taken off his backpack and smiling — it was her favorite one. “You put so much thought into this, didn’t you?”

He scratched his neck, embarrassed, “is it too much?”

“No, no!” she was quick to deny, lifting a hand up to touch his upper arm in reassurance. “It’s—it’s kinda charming, really.”

Sokka smirked teasingly, “oh, you think I’m charming?”

“You know I do, dumbass.”

Their eyes met and the Water Tribe boy could feel his whole body tense for being the subject of her attention, heart beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, unable to not ask himself if maybe she could hear it too. She smiled — her hand was still on his upper arm, but she moved it carefully until their fingers brushed. He smiled too, his thumb drawing gentle circles on her palm. As best friends, they had always been very touchy and loving with each other, yet both knew this was different. It was not like their friendly touches and hugs: it was softer, more hesitant, new. And they loved it.

“I’m glad you came,” he declared, finally letting his fingers fall in between hers, “I… I like to be around you.”

Y/N grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly, “I like to be around you too.”

Their small staring contest ended when she took the last bite of the sandwich and got her phone from her purse, turning on some music and positioning the object next to them in the blanket. Sokka grinned at her, aware of how much she just loved to listen to music while doing everyday things — he loved to be included in that little habit, loved to know she felt comfortable enough to let him be a part of it. It was a small gesture, but Y/N had once told him she avoided listening to music around others so as not to be a bother. He loved the fact she didn’t worry about that when next to him.

Spirits, he loved her. He had known it for a while now, yet being with her like this served to set it in stone: Sokka was in love with his best friend, and there were absolutely no doubts about it.

They talked softly over the nice melody, occasionally falling into laughter with crappy jokes and inside references that always got them cackling, fingers unconsciously playing with each other by their sides, finding comfort in the simple but intimate touch.

“Sokka! Listen!” she lit up suddenly, making him shake his head in confusion. Y/N stood up, pulling his hand with her until he did the same. Her eyes shone with agitation while she dragged him until they were standing on the grass, off the blanket.

“What?” his voice was as incredulous as he felt. “What happened?”

“I love this song,” she smiled brightly and his heart skipped a beat at the beautiful sight. The girl slowly but surely positioned his hands on her waist before circling his neck with her arms. “Dance with me, pretty boy.”

Sokka was entirely sure that wasn’t exactly a song you could slow dance to, with the funky rhythm and all, yet he didn’t have it in him to disagree. She swayed from one side to the other in a way that would give Zuko, who was trained in dancing, an attack of sorts, but he still loved it, letting her lead him wherever she wanted to. They danced in silence — Sokka kept admiring her features, watching as she hummed the song’s tune and gazed at the sky behind him. Sunset was nearing closer and the shades of blue were slowly being exchanged for oranges and yellows that she loved almost as much as she loved the boy in front of her. With that thought, she turned her eyes back to him.

“This is nice,” she muttered, content, and he smiled, planting an affectionate kiss on her forehead that killed every coherent idea in her mind, “really nice.”

Sokka snickered, “I agree, pretty girl.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and stepped backwards, crossing her arms defensively, cheeks reddening immediately, “don’t call me that.”

“Why not, pretty girl?”

“Because it makes me blush! Stop it”

“But you look so cute when you blush, pretty girl.”

“Stop.”

“Oh, come on, pretty girl.”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“You could never, pretty girl.”

“You better run. One…”

He laughed out loud and she did her best to ignore both the pinkness to her face and the smile fighting to reach her lips.

“Two…”

Sokka couldn’t stop laughing while he took off, running away from her as fast as possible. His laughter was light and cheerful and her chest fluttered at the sound, extasiated by the fact she was actually responsible for it. Y/N ran after him with a big grin on her face, intent on catching her best friend. Laughing made it harder for him to take deep breaths so it didn’t take long for her to be able to jump on his back, creating an impromptu piggyback ride between the two lovers. Sokka was still wheezing when running with the girl on his back, making her scream in excitement.

He made sure the blanket was right underneath before throwing himself to the ground, bringing her along. She giggled as he turned around so she was laying on his chest, not on his back. He held her tightly in a hug and she rested her head on his shoulder after kissing his neck so softly Sokka was certain his soul momentarily left his body, pulse so accelerated he truly feared a heart attack. They waited for their frantic breaths to calm down, holding each other dearly, entangling their legs together. He could hear her sigh happily next to his ear.

They stayed in that position for long  minutes, too stubborn to let go just yet, to give up on the indescribable feeling this type of touch caused them. Never before had Y/N felt this safe, her best friend’s erratic heart beating against her chest, his warm hands keeping her in place so firmly and still so gently — she always knew she had feelings for this boy, but now she couldn’t help but think of how she wouldn’t mind staying by his side forever. She wouldn’t mind listening to his stupid voice forever, wouldn’t mind being next to him forever. That realization was enough to stir her from her spot atop him, moving under his reluctant arms until her forearms supported her upper body and she could lift herself to look at him.

He was so beautiful, and, Spirits, she loved him so much.

Y/N ran her hands through his messy hair, making him hum in delight. She smiled.

“I love you, Sokka. So much.”

He smiled back, heartbeat picking up under her skin, “I love you too, pretty girl. More than I could ever put in words.”

They leaned in at the same time, lips molding together tenderly. She tasted like candy and he revelled in every second of it, bringing a hand to hold her neck as he deepened the kiss — nothing had ever felt so right.

Sokka followed her lips blindly when Y/N distanced herself and she chuckled, pressing an endearing kiss to the tip of his nose before blurting, absolutely embarrassed, “you know, before I came I was freaking out because I thought maybe you asked me out as a friend.”

He laughed and she loved the way his chest rumbled underneath her, “you’re unbelievable! Are you kidding?”

“I’m not! Ask Jin, she wanted to kick my ass because of it.”

“You’re an idiot. I have been in love with you for so long, I thought it was obvious!”

“It probably was, but we both know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“Not just bad, you’re the worst at taking hints.”

“Okay, now you’re overdoing it.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Y/N.”

“Well, if you insist…”

“I do.”

The girl giggled and smashed her lips to his again, feeling her heart full with happiness and love. She questioned herself why she had been so nervous about this in the first place — Y/N should have known there was no way something could go wrong if she was accompanied by her favorite boy in the whole world.

-----

The phone rang twice before Jin’s voice came on, “hello?”

“Hey, I just got home.”

“How was it? Did you have fun?”

“Well…”

“Oh, no,” she was immediately worried out of her mind, afraid of any bad news her friend could possibly deliver after what was supposed to be a great date with the guy she was in love with, “did something happen?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Y/N bit her lip to hold back a snort, heart not entirely calm yet, excitedly remembering all the sensations Sokka made her feel.

“What, baby? Talk to me.”

“I got a boyfriend.”

One second of silence.

“OH, I FUCKING CALLED IT! I TOLD YOU HE WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! I TOLD YOU!”

“That’s true.”

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS A DATE!”

“You surely did,” Y/N had a large smile on her face, skin still tingling with the reminder of his touch against it, lips itching to be pressed to his again.

“I love being right,” she could hear the grin in Jin’s words and it made her smile grow ever larger, “now you know to never doubt me, stupid ass.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

that was it!! I hope you liked it!!

ATLA taglist: @bottledcostcowater​ @lammello​ @coldlilheart​ @azucanela​ @samsmultifandomblogs​ @officiallydarkgeek​ @20coldhearts​

all taglist: @stfukie​ 

thank you for reading and see you soon!!

[waywardfacegarden]

burning embers

Modern Au: Zuko centric + The Gaang + Zukka + Friendship/Family feels + Angst and Fluff.

Summary: Zuko learns the meaning of love.

Read on Ao3 here.

.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

But Zuko wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love with someone is, he doesn’t know what it feels like. Love is a concept so alien to him; he can’t even grasp the root of it. He just knows a broken home, the remaining ashes of a devastating, blazing fire that was supposed to be his father’s love.

He doesn’t know what love is. And yet, he understands: the underlying and heart-wrenching agony that comes with loving. The sorrow that comes with it; it is just there, intrinsically linked. It’s something that the small kid—full of unknown love and golden warmth, but also deep, bitter pain—comprehends at the tender age of 11.

It’s just common knowledge for him, the same way he knows the sky is blue and the sun hides at night.

Family. Love. Father.

Those words don’t have meaning, Zuko thinks, lying on his bed one night, still hearing the disappointment in his father’s voice echoing in his ears in the quiet darkness of his room. They’re there, of course. And he knows them. He can say them. But they feel far away, slipping through the space between his fingers, becoming dust that blows away with the chilly wind of an autumn midnight, escaping him before he can place what was there in the first place.

They don’t hold weight. They don’t mean anything. They’re shallow; they just exist, like a couple of letters strewn together, like when you say your name so many times in a row it doesn’t even feel right anymore; but, he supposes only a few people are blessed with their significance, with tasting them in their mouth with something not akin to hate or bitterness or emptiness.

Loneliness. Despair. Dishonor.

Those have meaning. Those have weight, despite being such empty words.

(But they very much taste like something akin to hate, too—and that’s the thing.

Maybe Zuko just doesn’t know anything aside from [self-]hate.)

.

.

Family, love, father. They are concepts that come alive to him the same way a phoenix is born.

They rise, awakening from the ashes that the fire within themselves has burned to death; so beautiful, so mystical, so mesmeric and so incredibly fragile and precious and wondrous, like a mythological creature coming back to life after having known its own death.

He learns the words and their meaning the same way his brain starts learning new things and concepts by reading a book; but he doesn’t learn with his mind—even though a part of him knows that this is where knowledge is stored—Zuko learns with his heart (he has always learned things best with his heart; after all, Zuko wears it on his sleeve; he’s emotional, visceral, volatile—his feelings are way too intense, too much that they burn his chest open; he’s always aflame), with his eyes, with his hands. He learns it in every little gesture that’s given to him, in every little crack (that keeps filling and filling and filling) of the time that goes on, in every little drop of ink that is spilled on the parchment where his life is being written.

He learns the words in the way he begins learning his uncle's tea recipes, in the satisfaction and pride he feels when his uncle congratulates him for a job well-done on a warm, quiet Saturday afternoon as he finishes helping cleaning and serving the tables around the teashop, in the way his favorite cup sits next to his uncle's on the kitchen counter in the mornings, full of Zuko’s favorite bubble tea; he learns them in the ugly, endearing, oversized sweater hanging at the back of his closet, the one his uncle gave him in his last birthday; he learns about love in the gentle smiles of weekends, in the singing of the birds outside his room’s window, in the blanket that rests around his shoulders when he is sitting on the comfy couch on a calm Thursday night, dozing off while trying to study for an English test, in the way the nightmares that used to haunt him are tormenting him less and less every time; he learns the meaning of father in his uncle's ridiculous pajamas, full of tiny drawings of cherry blossoms and tea leaves, in his uncle’s obsession with Pai Sho, and in the wise phrases he keeps throwing at Zuko even when he cannot fully understand them.

He learns, little by little, step by step, like a slow fire burning inside his guts.

And it's a weird, strange thing. Zuko learned that fire hurts you, the same way he learned that love does, but somehow, after years of building his new life, it doesn't feel that way anymore.

His uncle is patient with him. Patient as someone who would teach someone else origami or as someone who’s slowly writing a book. He teaches him, sees him fall, stumble and trip over his feet (both, metaphorically and literally speaking) and he’s there when Zuko gets up again.

It’s a nice feeling. Knowing that someone is going to be there, even if you fall. Even when you fail.

His uncle teaches him, the same way he creates a new tea receipt for the menu; carefully, gently, ever so softly. He takes Zuko, the broken child who looks at him through his pain and hatred, and makes him open his eyes. He points out, over and over and over again, that failing is not a bad thing, that love exists and that it doesn't have to hurt, and that if it does, you can heal from it; he teaches him that Zuko is full of it, full of love, he says that he’s always been.

Somehow, it feels a bit like healing. Of course, Zuko is still broken. Probably, a part of him always will be; but, somehow, he doesn't think that being a bit broken is so wrong now.

.

.

Friendship was a foreign concept to him, too. Or maybe not, but Zuko never wanted to get involved with it.

Too much trouble.

(Or maybe fear—fear of what it carries, what it holds in its nature; fear of failing, of not being enough, of being left out, of getting too attached.)

But just as Zuko was wrong about so many things in his life, this is not the exception.

He comes to learn that, too.

It’s a different process than with his uncle. Maybe because it’s slower, or maybe because it’s, rather, faster. Maybe because he wasn’t aware he was learning at all.

Zuko doesn’t know exactly when it starts. Can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started getting involved. Not that he cares much about that at this point, but he would like to know.

They kind of adopt him in their group (or, er, gang, as they call it), without Zuko noticing. But to be fair, Zuko doesn’t notice a lot of things.

Toph is a friend of his Uncle, and she lives near the teashop, so she’s around more time than she’s not; she’s loud and kinda rude, and always calls Zuko a dork or a nerd or an idiot, but Zuko realizes he likes when she’s there. Aang comes along sometimes, with his scarily bright smile. There’s also Katara and her big brother, Sokka.

He likes all of them, to his extreme surprise. They’re all good people. Aang is way too kind, Katara may be scary but she’s pretty cool, and Sokka is just a combination of a very, weirdly endearing, smart dumbass, which is, uh, new.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly he’s tucked under a soft fuzzy blanket in winter, sandwiched in the middle of the three-spot sofa, with Aang almost laying over his lap. He’s almost sitting on Sokka’s right leg, pressing him against the arm sofa, his side overlapping with Sokka’s. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s sitting there, cross-legged, with his right arm fully extended on the back of the sofa, almost like he’s hugging Zuko’s shoulders; he’s practically leaning on Zuko.

His arm and his side are really warm, though. Not as much as Zuko generally is, but it’s… kind of nice.

“Katara, Titanic is a classic, dude. What the hell.”

Zuko takes a sip from his hot chocolate, blowing off the clouds of steam gathering over the cup—the warmth of it is pretty welcomed in his throat, to be honest, while Katara rolls her eyes at her brother.

“I’m not watching that for the fifth time in a month and seeing you and Aang both cry for an hour later after the already three long hours of the movie.”

Sokka looks pretty indignant about Katara’s attitude towards his (probably) favorite movie, which is pretty amusing.

“You’re just a monster,” Sokka says, dramatically, “that’s why you don’t cry.”

Katara rolls her eyes again.

“I don’t know,” Toph says, from the couch closer to the TV, sprawled all comfortably over it. “It’s actually a really funny movie,” she points out, and then draws out her voice. “‘Jack, draw me like one of your French girls’.”

Aang laughs pretty loud, and Zuko smiles at the bad impersonation despite himself.

“Well, My Heart Will Go On is my anthem.” Sokka says, puffing out his chest.

Zuko actually snorts into his cup and Sokka shoots him a look. He remembers the time Aang and Sokka recreated that iconic scene, with Toph singing at the top of her lungs in a ridiculously obnoxious voice. He actually laughed at that.

Sokka seems to read his mind, because after a few moments of staring at Zuko’s face, his entire expression lights up. He grins, eyes sparkling, and starts singing really loud and purposely out of tune. Aang starts laughing and Toph doesn’t waste time on joining Sokka in singing. Even Katara smiles.

A few minutes later of terrible singing, they’re all laughing. Toph is cackling so hard she’s on the floor, and Sokka keeps leaning over him, laughing in his ear. He believes it should be annoying, but instead of that, it’s actually infectious and Zuko laughs a bit harder.

After they calm down, Toph is clutching at her sides and Sokka is wiping tears out of his eyes.

Aang smiles, then, softly and content, and raises a hand in the air, like asking for permission to talk.

“I have an idea.” He says, and turns around to look at him. “Why don’t we just let Zuko decide? He hasn’t chosen anything yet for our Friday movie nights.” 

All eyes turn to look at him at that. He stops his movements, mouth hanging open, hot cup halfway to his lips.

“Uh,” he frowns. “Thank you, but, um. Why would I choose? It’s your thing.”

Everyone stares at him like he has two heads, which, okay fair but why.

“What?”

Aang gives him a soft smile, all kind eyes and gentle features, like he’s about to talk to a baby, but before he can say anything, Sokka is putting an arm around his shoulders and leaning all his weight on him, as if they weren’t already close enough.

“This is your thing as much as it is ours, dude.” He says, grinning, “You’re one of us.” He vaunts, proudly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair.

Katara nods, at the same time Toph goes:

“Yup, you’re already in, loser.”

Aang chuckles. “Yes, you’re our friend, Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, stunned.

That’s… 

There’s… 

That’s… the F-word.

Friend.

Friend.

Huh? What? How? When did that happen? Huh? Did he miss something in the past few months?

Sokka, completely oblivious to his emotional turmoil, insistently points to the TV while squeezing him. "So, buddy? Don't you think we should watch Titanic to cry and share a couple of very male tears?"

"You only want to watch it because you have a crush on both Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio." Katara accuses.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes, you do! You even still keep that poster of them behind your…"

"Katara!!!!"

.

.

Friend.

It’s a nice word.

It tastes like hot chocolate in his mouth on a cold night, it sounds like Sokka’s laugh and Toph’s jokes, and it looks like Aang’s kind eyes and Katara’s nice smile.

It feels like something. It holds meaning. It’s not an empty word. At all.

Sokka’s hand ruffling his hair or over his shoulders, Toph’s nicknames for him, Aang’s offer of help in times he feels like Zuko needs it, Katara’s help with homework and advice on his recipes doesn’t let him forget that. ‘Friend’ is never going to be an empty word.

Friend tastes like hope, like warm food and bear-hugs.

Friend is such a nice word.

.

.

The thing with Zuko being generally—and strangely—warm all the time is that summer is a complete nightmare for him.

He's sitting directly in front of the fan at full power, barefoot in just jeans and a light T-shirt, and yet he still feels like he's going to explode. The weather forecast in the morning heralded a heat wave in midsummer, and it's exactly the worst thing in the world that could happen to Zuko's already overheated body. Toph groans beside him, lying with her arms and legs spread like a starfish on the cold ground. It is no comfort to her, however, and Zuko can understand that well.

Katara is looking at something on her phone, fanning herself with a magazine, and Aang remains practically unaffected, just as energetic as ever as he eats the remaining watermelon slices from the bowl they recently filled.

Zuko is wondering if he should go, or if he should fall asleep on the freezing ground that doesn't seem to be freezing at all, when Sokka walks into the living room in his baseball uniform. He has just returned from his morning summer practice; sweat is running down the side of his face, and his shirt is partly sticking to his body from the moisture. He smiles at everyone in greeting before gulping down all that's left of the water on the bottle of his hand. Zuko stares at his Adam's apple bob while he's drinking, and then his eyes trail the trickle of water that slides down his jaw over his desperation to drink all the water so fast. The drop goes down, down, down, dripping over his collarbone and sinking into his neck until it eventually gets lost somewhere inside his shirt. Sokka throws the bottle over the trash can and uses his shirt collar to wipe the water and some of his sweat off his face. Zuko's eyes unconsciously move downward; he can see a line of skin on Sokka's abdomen and stomach.

He swallows. Uh. His mouth is suddenly very dry. He's probably dehydrated. Is he dehydrated? He's starting to feel a little dizzy.

"So? Beloved friends, beloved little sister? Did you miss me? Obviously, you did."

Katara rolls her eyes, but still asks, "How was practice, dumbass?"

"It was cool! I hit twelve curve-balls in a row and sixteen of that weird fastball Suki pitches. Oh! And I'm finally getting the thing about that forkball. Also... woah, Zuko, are you okay?!"

Zuko blinks from where he was staring at Sokka's hair. It's kind of wet. Is that sweat? Shouldn't that be gross? Why is Zuko staring? Does he find it gross? He doesn't think so, but he also can't quite explain why...

"Woah, bud," Sokka says, kneeling in front of him and getting dangerously close to his face. "You're so red, are you having heatstroke or something? Do you feel dizzy?" He leans on his knees and presses a hand to his forehead, pulling up the bangs hanging over it. It feels nice, actually. Sokka's soft hand on his boiling skin feels like fresh water. He kind of wants to lean into it.

He probably does, because Sokka frowns. "Maybe you have a fever..." His mouth presses into a thin line. "Don't you want to take a shower to cool off? I can lend you some clothes, we're about the same height, they'll fit."

Zuko blinks. Huh?

"Here, let me help you." Sokka says, helping him up.

Around an hour later, Zuko feels a lot better, laying with his back on the floor in Sokka's baggy shorts and blue T-shirt with a cartoonish drawing of The Pink Panther. Zuko smiles involuntarily when he looks at it. It smells a bit like Sokka, or at least the detergent he uses. That makes his stomach do weird flips. He's not feeling that hot anymore, but maybe he is getting sick...

"Hey," Sokka tells him, looking at him from above, standing just behind Zuko's head. His toes are barely avoiding touching Zuko's sprawled hair on the floor.

"Hey," Zuko answers back, looking up at Sokka's soft face. His hair is down and still wet from the shower, and a few drops fall on the bridge of Zuko's nose when Sokka hovers over him. Zuko's face scrunches up, more out of involuntary reaction than out of bother, but Sokka chuckles.

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. He uses the towel around his neck to messily dry his hair. "You look a lot better, now."

"Yes," Zuko muses, still a bit mesmerized by Sokka's wet hair. And Sokka's face. "Thanks."

Sokka grins brightly at him. "Sure."

He looks like he's about to say something else, but before he can say anything, Toph groans just a few feet away, sitting now on the couch. "Stop flirting and get a room already; it’s gross. We're here, too."

"What? We weren’t—"

Katara agrees, quietly.

"Hey! I was just worried!" Sokka excuses himself. "Weren't you all? His face was as red as a tomato."

Katara looks up from her magazine and gives him a pointed look, with one elegantly arched brow. Apparently, she doesn't even need to say anything else, because it's enough to make Sokka blush.

Oh.

He's cute, Zuko thinks. And then, oh, I think Sokka is cute. And then Sokka stomps over the kitchen muttering unintelligible things, still a faint blush over his cheeks.

Zuko smiles to himself watching his childish behavior. He is, though. He is cute.

.

.

.

It's raining heavily outside, drops pouring loudly against the asphalt of the sidewalk.

Zuko side-glances at Sokka. Maybe it's because after the course of a year, Zuko has learned to recognize many of Sokka's little gestures, or maybe it's the fact that the boy has been so much into his own mind lately, but Zuko recognizes that way he scrunches up his nose, that wrinkle between his eyebrows, that way his eyes twitch.

“Are you okay?” 

He’s asking mostly just to be polite, to be honest; he already knows he’s not. He knows something’s up.

Sokka turns to look at him, and then stares at the rain hitting the glass window of the lonely teashop.

“I’m…” He says, and looks at his hand. Then he presses his mouth into a thin line.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zuko says, awkwardly, because as much as he cares, he’s still a mess when it comes to social cues. He’s never going to stop being a mess. And terrible at comforting people.

Sokka sees right through him, though, like he always does, and smiles softly at him. His whole face mellows. It kind of makes Zuko’s heart flutter in his chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

“I’m…” Sokka tries again, looking at Zuko’s face. At his eyes, at his scar, at his neck. He feels weirdly exposed, but at the same time… He doesn’t. It’s just Sokka. Which means it’s okay. “Scared, I guess.”

Zuko blinks and tilts his head to the side. He’s not sure if he should ask, but…

“Of?”

Sokka gives him a wry smile.

“Of failing? Of disappointing my dad? Of not being enough? I don’t know, I can’t quite pick a single one.”

Sokka’s voice is not quite bitter, but it feels like that, in the air around them. Zuko knows the feeling pretty well.

“You are enough.” Zuko affirms, without a single trace of hesitation in his voice. Because Sokka is enough, in every single aspect, and he shouldn’t feel like any less than that. Zuko’s also aware of what he’s worrying about, and for Zuko, it’s just absurd—Sokka is one the very few people that shouldn’t worry about passing the entrance exam of college at all, he’s crazy smart. He should know that. But, to be fair, Zuko can’t judge him nor scold him for self-doubt when it used to be all that he was, along with his self-hate. So he says it out loud, looking into Sokka’s wide, surprised eyes. “You’re also really smart, Sokka, I’m sure you’re going to ace the entrance exam. You shouldn’t worry.”

Sokka rolls his eyes, but he also adopts that playful-kinda-flirty side of him. It’s painful because Zuko can see the sadness underlying in his voice and body language so clearly. Can see the lack of confidence in every single motion.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I am,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I really believe so. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re very capable of doing whatever you want, so have faith in yourself just like I have faith in you.”

Once he says it, and Sokka blinks once, twice, thrice at him, Zuko feels painfully aware (and painfully embarrassed) of what he just said.

Oh Lord, what did he actually…

“Ah,” Sokka says, and makes a face that Zuko can’t name. “You’re blushing.”

Zuko covers his cheeks with both hands. Sokka is probably right, they’re so warm, but still.

“I’m not.” Still.

Sokka laughs, and raises both eyebrows. “You sure?” He asks, staring pointedly at his face, which only makes him blush harder.

Stupid Sokka.

He must know the effect he’s having on him, because he laughs again, lightheartedly. Well, at least he’s not upset anymore…

“I’m not,” he uselessly and pathetically insists, even when it’s tragically obvious he is. But he has some pride, okay.

Sokka grins, but it’s all devilish. It makes Zuko’s hair stand on end. A chill runs down his spine.

“It’s just hot.”

Sokka smirks. “Sure, you’re always hot.”

“Shut up,” Zuko complains and groans, facing away from him so that he can’t see his blatant embarrassment. Sokka’s natural flirty personality wasn’t that much of a problem back then, but it’s only gotten worse, and Zuko just can’t handle it sometimes. It feels like way too much.

“Ah, but you blush when you’re embarrassed. That’s cute.” Sokka points out, a wide grin on his face. “Imagine being both cute and hot, what a crime.” 

He sighs theatrically, and Zuko is very tempted to answer, “shut up, look who’s talking,” but he knows he will just get more embarrassed after saying that. He needs to calm down. So he just grumbles while Sokka laughs.

Then, when Sokka has already calmed down and Zuko can feel his face like normal again, they look quietly at the rain, steadily keeping its pace.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, after some time, and Zuko quirks an eyebrow in reply. 

Sokka smiles. “Thank you. For believing me. It means a lot.”

Zuko smiles back. “Of course.”

.

.

Zuko notices it one night. (Though, looking back, it’s weird he didn’t notice it before.)

Well, more like, Aang notices and points it out, and then Zuko realizes that what he said is pathetically true, lying in bed at night because he still mulls things over sometimes before going to sleep.

“You know,” Aang had casually said, holding a can of orange juice, sitting next to Zuko on the bleachers at one of Sokka’s practice games. “You stare at Sokka a lot.”

Zuko frowned. “It’s his game, after all. We’re here to watch him,” he had retorted, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes, but I don’t mean only now. You stare at him all the time.”

Zuko didn’t feel like he liked where this conversation was going. Something about his expression must had given him away, or maybe Aang was just too good at reading him now, because he said:

“Wait.” He actually had sounded surprised. “You mean you’re not aware you have a crush on him?”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. “What? I don’t have a crush on him.”

Aang quirked up an eyebrow. Sure, he didn’t need to say.

“I don’t,” he had pressed on.

Aang hadn’t looked any more convinced of what he had said. If anything, he looked more convinced on what he himself had said. Aang had looked at him for a very long period of 1 minute before lightly chuckling and nudging him in the arm with his elbow, smiling brightly at him.

It was weird, but Zuko has gotten better at reading them, maybe just as much as Aang has with him. Maybe that’s why he knows what Aang means with all of that. Admit it when you’re ready.

It’s not like he was trying to deny or hide it. It’s not like he was trying to lie. He just didn’t think Aang was actually right.

But he is. Zuko can’t stop looking at Sokka, all the time. Thinking about him. About the way he smiles, with his hair up, with his hair down, with that denim jacket that fits him in all the right angles, with his baseball cap, ecstatic after he scored a run in the 8th inning. 

Sokka, practicing on the field. Grinning widely and openly and hugging him tightly when he aced the entrance exam. Leaning in to taste Zuko’s ice-cream into his own mouth. Ruffling his own messy hair. Wearing those silly cartoon t-shirts. Serenading Zuko with Electric Love and the most ridiculous voice ever on his birthday as a joke. Messy eating. Scrunching up his nose while drinking green tea. Reciting 80% of the Star Wars dialogues by heart. Being obsessed with boomerangs and swords (though not as much as Zuko is with that last one). Biting into the end of his pencil when he’s focused on writing an English essay.

Ahhhhh.

Oh, holy honor.

He has a crush. A crush. Feelings.

When did that happen? Why did that happen? He doesn’t know. Was it because of his warm eyes? His pretty smile? His pretty lips? Was it because he opened up to Zuko, let himself be vulnerable around him, bled his heart out so Zuko could piece it back together? Was it because he’s funny? Charming? Cool? Smart? Astonishingly cute? Was it because he made Zuko feel made out of thin air, sometimes, so raw and exposed but yet so safe, so comfortable in his own skin? ...That is, the others don’t necessarily make him feel unsafe, or uncomfortable. He just feels like he can be all open and vulnerable with Sokka better. Maybe because he opened up to him first, about something so personal like his mom (and Zuko knew about losing a mom, too).

Well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t exactly matter, does it? He’s already in deep.

Zuko rolls over his stomach and sighs, groaning loud into his pillow. Why, why, why, why. It’s not like he even has a chance, so why did he have to…

Ugh.

Feelings are stupid. His heart is stupid.

And the way he falls asleep thinking about Sokka’s laugh is even stupider.

.

.

The thing is, because Zuko notices all the little details in Sokka’s gestures and behavior, he also notices the way he acts differently towards… Certain people.

“Me and Yue?” Sokka laughs, and Zuko blinks. He didn’t even mean to ask it out loud. Now, he would just hear the confirmation of what he already knew from Sokka’s lips. How is that any better? Good job, Zuko. 

“Nah, man, Suki would kill me if she sees me wooing her girlfriend. Or at least kick me pretty damn hard.” Huh? Zuko blinks again. Huh? So they’re… Sokka and Yue… They’re not… 

“And believe me, she’s super strong. She kicked me once and I’ve always regretted eating that last cupcake on the fridge.” Sokka makes a face and shudders, like the mere flashback is enough to make him fear. But then he smiles, in that soft way of his that makes Zuko’s knees go really weak. “And I’m pretty sure Yue is immensely happy with her, too.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say, so he just oh-so-eloquently utters:

“Ah.”

Sokka seems amused.

“Didn’t you know they were a thing? The PDA is so strong when they’re together, you have to have seen it.”

Well, that was… Zuko just thought they were touchy with each other? Sokka is pretty much touchy with him all the time, but that doesn’t mean they’re a thing.

Well.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka blinks. “Why?”

Zuko frowns. He tilts his head in confusion. “Because you are… Romantically attracted to her? It must be rough.”

Sokka blinks once, twice, three times. Stares. Then, he throws his head back and cackles, clutching his stomach.

“Dude, what the hell.” He wheezes. “Just say the word crush like normal people.” 

“Hmm.”

Then, when he calms down, Sokka eyes Zuko.

“Wait, what?” He says, serious all of a sudden. Or at least, surprised. “Do you really think that?” At Zuko’s lack of response, Sokka looks at him, then at his hands, then at the TV, where the video game they were playing is still on pause. Then, back at Zuko’s face. “No, I don’t have a crush on her. Or on Suki, for that matter.”

Zuko frowns. Sokka must know he doesn’t believe him, because he continues.

“I mean, I did.” He admits. “Back when I met her, when I was, like, 14. But I’m over it, now—Not that she’s not great; she’s awesome and I love her, just… Not in that way. It was just a silly teen-crush, anyway. And Suki is my best friend. We had a thing for a few months like two years ago, but we hit it off so much better as friends. She’s my bi icon, though. And bestest friend.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Sokka adds, and eyes him pointedly, “I’m interested in someone else right now.”

Zuko stares. Blinks.

What.

So he does have someone he’s interested in anyway. God, Zuko really doesn’t stand a chance. Why even bothering trying? And it’s not like he knows how to try something, anyway…

From the other corner of the room, Aang shoots him a very cryptic look. Zuko can’t describe what he’s thinking, but he guesses he’s taking pity on him. After all, he knows.

Ah. He really doesn’t like having feelings.

.

.

His mind is a cruel thing. It’s what keeps him up at night, what reminds him of all his insecurities, what makes him feel undeserving of love, what keeps throwing image after image into his head of his broken childhood on bad days. It’s what, as much as his heart, knows about his deepest desires, his longing, his yearning and thinks it’s amusing to play with Zuko for a bit.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, with a fragile smile on his face, his voice going ridiculously soft, his eyes warming up, and Zuko’s heart pounds on his chest like big waves crashing on the shore of a lonely beach. “Zuko, I love you.”

It’s kind of—very—criminal the way Sokka makes him feel. The way he makes Zuko’s heart seem like it’s going to burst out of his chest with how fast it beats after hearing just those three words, the way he makes Zuko’s entire soul ache and want, the way he makes him feel so grounded, so him, yet so tiny and delicate, like he’s made out of thin sheets of ice.

Is this how love feels?

Is this how it should feel like?

He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love is. He just knows a broken home, the destructive, neon-like, toxic obsession with power his dad had, instead of any tender form of anything else that can be called love that his dad should have had for his mom, but never did.

Falling in love is made to hurt. Falling in love is destined to make you feel sad, and alone, and unsafe.

Falling in love is a cruel thing. It’s not cut out for weak people, and Zuko is weak. He’s destined to break. He has always been made out of fragile, easy-to-destroy things.

That’s why his mind plays with him all the time.

He wakes up in his bed, opens his eyes to the dark quiet of his room, feels the way his heart beats so hard that he can almost feel it on his throat. And he feels lost. And sad.

He doesn’t even scream. He just lies there, feeling the world becoming smaller, feeling himself becoming smaller.

Lord, he’s royally fucked. Screwed. He knows. He’s destined to break.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

.

.

He’s sitting with Toph leaning back on his right side, on the fluffy couch in Katara and Sokka’s living room, cutting up squares out of colorful paper.

They are both terrible in the kitchen. Something coming from being rich kids, Sokka playfully teased earlier. And he guesses it’s true. Either way, they are terrible—Zuko even burned his own kitchen once while making scrambled eggs (and that was. Not a very good day). Sure, he has tried to help Uncle Iroh a couple of times, and he knows a bit of the basics, but besides preparing tea, he’s lost. He can’t cook to save his life. So when Zuko almost lights a fire to bake cookies and mixes up the recipe for the second time, Katara kicks them out and bans them from the kitchen for the next 4 hours. Toph protests just to be annoying—she doesn’t like cooking at all, she has told him, but she loves annoying Katara, it’s her favorite idle activity. Zuko would be offended, but it’s the smartest choice if they want to finish baking Aang’s birthday cake without setting the kitchen on fire, so it’s fine.

Besides, this way he can steal a few glances at Sokka, as he hangs up the decorations he and Toph are making. The muscles under his shirt flex when he raises his arms above his head, his messy hair down from its ponytail, falling over his face when he moves a bit to the left, a line of the smooth skin of his back making its way to Zuko's curious, avid eyes.

Zuko swallows.

Toph sighs heavily and throws her head back. “So, are you planning to make a move any time this century or are you a loser?”

Zuko eyes her, coming out of his stupor, confused. “What?”

Toph smirks. “Right, you’re always a loser, my bad.”

Zuko blinks. Not because of Toph calling him a loser, but because, for a second, he really doesn’t get what she means.

Then, when he does, he buries his face into his hands and groans.

“Even you know?”

Toph laughs. "Yes, idiot, it's stupidly obvious.” She pats his arm. “I can see it and I'm blind, you know." 

Zuko groans again. He’s in physical pain right now. "How?"

She shrugs. "I don’t know. Maybe the way you say his name. Or talk about him."

Zuko feels a bit of panic. 

What? Is he that obvious? How does he say Sokka’s name?

"His name?"

"Yeah,” Toph confirms, nodding exaggeratedly, “stupidly sappy. It's gross."

"Oh my god."

She laughs again, loudly, because his suffering is apparently amusing. "You also talk about him a lot," she chuckles, "and sigh every time you see him. At least that’s what I assume, given that he’s in the room and you keep sighing like a 12-year-old girl in love. Pinning all the way.”

Zuko wants to die. He seriously wants to die. Maybe he should just tell Sokka he likes him, so when he rejects him, Zuko can just die a quick, albeit painful, death.

Toph nudges at his arm, with her typical abnormal strength for someone her age, but she doesn’t mean any harm. “So?” She asks, again. “Are you planning to make a move or not?"

Zuko sighs, "I can't do anything, he likes someone else."

Toph kind of stops where she’s fumbling with a couple of paper sheets. She then turns around and makes this face, where she’s scrunching up her nose and frowning like she just smelled something sour, or like when she’s deeply confused. "Did he say that?"

"Yes."

"Did Sokka seriously tell you that?"

Zuko’s confused at Toph’s relentless insistence. "...Yes?"

Toph’s face goes back to normal, but there’s something about the way she continues to hum that makes it seem like she still thinks Zuko is an alien, or something.

"You must have misunderstood him—which wouldn’t be a surprise, to be honest." She says the last part in a whisper, but he still hears her. That’s probably what she wanted anyway, but it’s not like he gets it. What does that mean? Zuko gets Sokka. That’s one of the few things he’s really proud of. Did he just think that he got Sokka while, all this time, he actually didn’t?

No. He understands Sokka. Sokka himself has told him that.

"No, I didn't. And I don't have a chance if he likes someone else, so I might as well not even try."

Toph looks mad. "You're super pessimistic, dumbass."

"Hmm."

She sighs, looking deeply tired and frustrated, like Zuko has completely worn her out. Then, she raises her fist and punches him. Hard.

Ouch.

Zuko yelps, and rubs at his sore arm. “What was that for?” he grumbles.

She frowns. “To punch some sense into you, big oblivious idiot!" Toph hums a low, guttural sound in the back of her throat, like she’s a feral dog trying to threaten a pedestrian. “Just try, at least. Everyone is kind of getting tired of your pinning, too."

"Ah." Everyone?

"Full offence."

"Ah."

“Even Katara. The only reason she hasn’t intervened yet is because she says it’s not her business to push you, but I don’t think her reasoning is gonna last long.”

Katara too!? Oh, no.

Zuko seriously wants to die.

.

.

Eventually, things go on. 

Zuko’s “crush” doesn’t go away. If anything, it just grows and grows and grows until it becomes almost unbearable. But he still can’t say anything.

“Zuko.”

“Hmm?”

“You know,” Sokka says, looking at him with feign innocence, sitting with his hands upwards behind him in Zuko’s room, “that looks heavy, want me to hold it for you?”

Zuko frowns. He looks up from his work to give Sokka a confused look. “What is, my pen?”

Sokka gives him that little, playful smile—the one that is so incredibly hot for some reason Zuko can’t understand. His eyes gleam, even more than they do all the time.

“Nope,” he says, and his smile grows an inch, “your hand.”

Zuko blinks. Sokka flirting with him is nothing new, that’s why he manages to hold back his blush a bit and remain calm, even when he’s a bit dying inside.

He is just trapped between telling him, “god, I wish you were flirting with me for real,” and, “please stop doing it, it’s not good for my heart,” and, “If only you knew how much I really want to hold your hand”, but neither of those options are actually. Something viable.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks instead, knowing the answer already.

Sokka would laugh, brush it off, and say something like, “ah, but you didn’t blush this time,” and let it go.

He doesn’t, though.

What he does, instead, is shrug and look at Zuko’s textbook, like he’s completely uninterested in the conversation.

Huh.

But then he speaks up again.

“Have been for the past year and a half or so, but thanks for noticing.” He answers.

Zuko blinks. He’s tempted to answer, “yeah, I know, which is a cruel, cruel thing to do, by the way, given how my heart just wants to escape out of my chest and go with you every time you do it,” or something equally playful to play it down like they always tend to do, but… for some reason, this time it feels… Real.

Maybe he should just laugh.

He doesn’t, though, and, “What?” is what comes out of his mouth.

Sokka looks up. “I said that I’ve been doing it for a year and a half or so, thank you for finally noticing.”

Zuko doesn’t understand. He’s not following the conversation at all. “Wait.”

“Ahh,” Sokka sighs, “honestly, if you didn’t notice by the end of the month, I would have felt deeply embarrassed. I was starting to think I lost my charm and I didn’t know how to flirt.”

“Well, that was a terrible pick-up line,” Zuko can’t help but retort, and like he wasn’t mildly-insulted, Sokka grins at him.

“But it worked for you, didn’t it?” He teases, leaning on Zuko’s personal space, “it made you feel something.”

Zuko frowns. “How would you know?”

Sokka stares. “Your face.”

“My face?”

“I can see it. In your face.”

Zuko covers his mouth, frowning. He can feel his own heart race.

Sokka is still way too close.

“You can…?”

“Yup.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zuko says, blinking. “That means—are you—are you flirting with me? For real?”

Sokka quirks both eyebrows. “Yes...?”

“But you—you…”

“Zuko, I don’t know where you got the idea, but I don’t flirt with anyone aside from you—at least, I haven’t done it in a long time. So yes, I am actually flirting with you.”

Zuko feels like he just got hit in the head. “Why?”

Sokka blinks. “Because I want to?”

“But why do you want to?”

Sokka shoots him a look. “Zuko,” he says, slowly, “I like you. I thought that was obvious already.”

Zuko blinks. “You have… romantic feelings for me?”

Sokka laughs, amused. “Yeah, Zuko, I have ‘romantic feelings’ for you.”

Zuko blinks again. He’s blinking too much. “So all this time… it was real… when you said… and that time you also said… and… oh.”

Sokka smiles, softly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair. It makes him blush. His heart might also not even work at this point, if it wasn’t for the fact that he can clearly hear it thundering in his ears.

Why is Sokka so calm? Zuko’s about to pass out.

“Katara is right, I’m dumb.”

Sokka grins. “Toph thinks so, too.”

“Toph thinks everyone is dumb.”

“Fair,” Sokka answers; he’s still grinning so wide. God, Sokka is so pretty. “Though I think she only calls us dumb, not that she means it.”

“Mmm.”

He’s so unfairly distracting, too. Zuko can’t stop looking at him.

“Wait,” He says, suddenly realizing something, “so you knew that I—that I—had feelings for you, too?”

Sokka looks at his lips when he talks, and Zuko has to concentrate hard to not straight up pass out from shock and his heart racing so fast it might give him an attack. Has he done that before? He would have noticed, right? Sure, Zuko looks at Sokka’s lips a lot instead than at his eyes, but he would have noticed if Sokka did it, too.

… Right?

He’s starting to feel dizzy. Is he dreaming? Is any of this real at all?

“Noticed it a while ago, yeah. That’s why I’m not freaking out that you noticed my flirting 100 years later.”

For a moment, Zuko is able to set aside  his internal emotional turmoil and state of panic, if only to complain.

“Hey!” He frowns. “Wait—”

“You have said that a lot.”

“Wait,” Zuko repeats, just to be annoying, “if you… liked me, and knew that I liked you back, why didn’t you… make a move?”

“Like asking you out? I tried to, but you’re too oblivious.”

“Huh?” Zuko utters. What does that even mean? He’s not—well, he is, maybe, just a bit, but. “Well, if you knew that, you could have been more straightforward, you know!”

Sokka smiles, then shrugs.

“I guess we’re both dumb.”

Zuko feels his lips curling up, not able to contain all his happiness anymore, his brain catching up with the last 20 minutes of his life.

Holy shit, Sokka likes him. Sokka likes him. Him. Zuko. As in, romantically speaking.

Oh.

Oh.

“I like you, Zuko.” Sokka says, as if Zuko’s brain didn’t shut down already. He reaches out and slides his hand on the table Zuko was previously working, the tip of his fingers touching Zuko’s. “So can I finally, please hold your hand?”

Zuko might pass out for real, but before that, he finally, finally, finally takes Sokka’s hand into his own.

It feels even better than in his dreams.

He feels like burning up, like all of his body is setting itself on fire.

Sokka’s hand is warm, so warm, and soft, so soft, and makes Zuko’s heart flutter like delicate flower’s petals in the wind.

Sokka’s thumb brushes over his knuckles; Sokka’s lips turn into a bright smile, like he’s been wanting to do that since forever.

It feels like home.

.

.

When they tell their friends they’re dating, Yue is the first one to say something.

“You mean you weren’t dating before?”

“Shocking, right,” Katara deadpans, but then she smiles, genuine. “I’m happy for both of you.” 

(Although remembering that minutes later doesn’t make her any less scary, when she decides to corner him out of the bathroom and put a steady hand on his shoulder, feign-sweet smile on her face, and say with a weirdly off-calm voice that, if he ever dared to hurt Sokka on purpose, she was going to break all the 206 bones on his body.)

Toph grins brightly and kicks him enthusiastically on the side with a loud “Well-done, loser!” while Aang jumps on Zuko’s back and clings to him like a koala.

“That’s awesome, guys! Be happy!”

Zuko smiles.

“Finally, I won’t have to hear Sokka’s pinning all the time,” Suki quips, like she’s tired and utterly uninterested, but even the happiness is evident in her voice.

Sokka still complains. “Hey! I had to hear you be head-over-heels for Yue for months, too.”

“It wasn’t months for you, though.” Suki deadpans, but then her face goes all soft, “I’m kidding, So, I’m really happy for you two.”

Sokka smiles, and she gets up from where she’s cuddling Yue on the sofa to hug Sokka tightly, grinning wide, and then look at Zuko (stumbling with a happily laughing Aang on his back and Toph annoyingly ruffling his hair like a proud little sister) and whispers something in Sokka’s ear.

Zuko is glad that he’s still looking at Sokka from the corner of his eye, because he catches him blushing after that.

He’s cute.

Suki laughs. Sokka frowns, still blushing, and when he catches Zuko watching, he blushes harder.

He’s really cute.

Zuko smiles softly, and Sokka blinks, once, twice, before smiling back.

The cutest.

.

.

“Zuko.”

Zuko hums, but doesn’t look up from his work.

“Zukoooo, darling, love of my life.”

Zuko is used to it by now. To Sokka calling him pet-names like those. Of hearing Sokka say he’s cute, or hot, or smart, or witty, or pretty. It still makes his heart flutter, though. Just as Sokka’s laugh does. It still makes him blush sometimes.

(It’s funny because Sokka is the same way—or mostly the same. Zuko said he looked really hot after a baseball game once and Sokka almost died on the spot. He blushed like mad, but after he calmed down, he couldn’t stop bragging about Zuko calling him ‘hot’.

“Look at you, flirting shamelessly with me! You’re all grown up!” and, “I shouldn’t be near Zuko if I’m wearing my baseball uniform, he’ll get a boner,” and a lot of more phrases.)

“Hm?”

“You are—” Sokka sing-songs, and crosses his arms over Zuko’s textbook. He puts his chin over his forearms and looks up at Zuko’s face, grinning, and Zuko would probably be a bit annoyed that he’s not letting him finish his essay if it weren’t for the fact that he’s Sokka. His, ahem, boyfriend. 

“I am…?”

“You are,” he repeats, and his smile grows bigger. Zuko thinks about kissing him; Zuko thinks about kissing him all the time. But, to be fair, he used to dream about that, just as much as he used to dream about them holding hands. And just as if he read Zuko’s mind, Sokka reaches out and holds his right hand; gently, like all of Sokka’s touches. It feels so nice, Zuko never wants to let go. “You are pulchritudinous.”

Eh?

Zuko tries to smile, but Sokka looks at him like he’s looking at a cute baby and throws his head back, still close and still holding his hand.

“You’re adorable.”

“What…?” Zuko is sure he looks as puzzled as he feels; he once caught his reflection in the mirror while playing Scrabble with Sokka and therefore knows how he must look. For some reason, Sokka finds it extremely cute. “What does that mean?”

Sokka laughs again.

Zuko narrows his eyes into slits. Or, maybe Sokka’s just making fun of him. (Not in a bad way, of course, Zuko knows. Sokka never means any harm, but he sure as hell loves teasing Zuko all the time.)

“Are you insulting me?”

Sokka wipes tears from his eyes and looks at Zuko with such a sweet face that it kinda makes Zuko stumble, even when he’s sitting.

His heart flutters alive, his face grows warm. He wants to kiss Sokka.

Sokka does, though, pulling gently at his hand and softly pressing his lips into Zuko’s wrist. He grins up at him.

“You’re adorable.”

(Later, when he’s waiting for a toast on Uncle Iroh’s kitchen, still barefoot, decked out in his pajamas and half-asleep, he finally finds what he thinks is the correct word using the search function of his phone—after 20 lame attempts of trying and failing at remembering—and pronouncing correctly—the right word.

He clicks on the dictionary tab, reads over the meaning, stumbles over, slips and falls flat on his ass.

He almost sets his kitchen on fire for the second time.)

.

.

Zuko is bad at flirting. He knows. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, hard, and sometimes, sometimes, he succeeds (conscious and unconsciously).

Or maybe Sokka is just too easy to fluster (even when Sokka says it’s the other way around; even when that’s actually, probably, just a bit, true.)

Either way, Zuko basks happily in seeing Sokka get all flustered. It makes him even cuter than he already is.

(Whipped, Toph would draw out, mockingly sing-song.

And, well, maybe he is.)

.

.

Kissing Sokka is like setting himself on fire. Like burning up alive, but not in the bad sense. Not in the way he was burned as a little kid.

Kissing Sokka is like sitting near a campfire when you’re feeling cold; like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling your chest contract; like tucking yourself in a warm blanket, with fuzzy socks and drinking your favorite drink, while hearing your favorite song. It’s like waking up on a good day, like basking in the sun at twilight, like taking a warm shower after a long day.

He feels too much, way too overwhelmed, even with just a brush of lips.

Kissing Sokka is a blessed thing.

There’s something that comes alive in his chest at the same time their lips touch. It blossoms under his ribcage, spreads over his chest, warms up all the way up to his throat. Beating, growing, marveling in every fiber of his being. Maybe that’s what love is—maybe that’s what Zuko has been searching for all this time; this connection, this overwhelming feeling, this deep, raw, unfiltered emotion, coming off him through waves of desperation for more.

He can’t be sure. But even if it wasn’t something he has looked out for, the discovery of it still feels like a sacred thing.

It’s like watching cherry blossoms falling on the street for the first time, like falling asleep on the comfortable side of your bed after a tiring day, it’s coming back home—or to what home should feel like.

It’s something delicate, at first. Zuko doesn’t have any experience, so he just lets himself feel as Sokka presses his lips softly into his own, carding his long fingers into Zuko’s hair.

Zuko feels an electric chill run down his spine, where Sokka’s fingertips—from the hand that’s not on his hair—make a slow path down. He can feel them burning, even through his clothes, even when Sokka’s hand is not that warm.

But it feels like that.

Zuko breathes shakily, moves his lips experimentally, feeling Sokka’s smile against his mouth.

He wants to do something, so he leans in, feeling Sokka’s eyelashes tickling his cheekbones, feeling Sokka’s thumb under his jaw, angling his head in a better position, feeling himself become aflame. He wants to touch Sokka. He really wants to touch Sokka.

So he does.

He uses one hand to gently touch Sokka’s wrist—the one Sokka’s using to keep Zuko’s head up—and, carefully, tentatively, he wraps his fingers around it, caresses the skin like he wants to print a topographic map of it into his mind.

Sokka makes a low, appreciative sound, and Zuko feels so happy it should be embarrassing.

Sokka has his hair down, and Zuko wants to touch it so much because he loves Sokka’s hair. Sokka’s hair is so pretty—Sokka is so pretty—so he goes for it. He brushes his fingers on Sokka’s shoulder, touches the strands of brown hair that lie there, moves his fingers to the nape of his neck. Zuko does this slowly, he wants to feel everything and he’s not going to rush, not after how long he’s wanted this.

He cradles his head with his hand, touches and touches and touches. He pulls at his hair, lightly, and his hand goes down just a bit; the skin of Sokka’s neck under his fingertips is warm, and so soft. He can feel the gentle echo of his heartbeat thundering in the tender curve of his jaw.

Just then, Sokka’s thumb brushes on his bare clavicle, and Zuko hisses, feeling like he’s on fire. Feeling like he’s become burning embers.

It’s just—too much, and at the same time, not enough—he wants more.

He has always been sensitive, but it’s different now. It’s like all his senses are turned on—he’s hyper-aware of everything around him—of Sokka’s hands, of Sokka’s steady, fast heartbeat under his open palm, of Sokka’s smell, of Sokka’s warm mouth, of Sokka’s soft skin, of the way Sokka keeps mumbling his name, softly against his lips or when he breaks apart to breath. He touches Sokka’s face, Sokka’s arms, Sokka’s neck; breathes his name into his own mouth, makes sure Sokka knows how much he wants this, how much he’s dreamed of this: of kissing him, of him kissing him back.

It feels too good to be even real—just as Sokka always makes him feel, even when they’re not kissing.

He might as well die there.

It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, though.

Linked, bare soul to bare soul, with the prettiest, smartest, kindest boy he’s ever met.

.

.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say. But as he sees Sokka laughing in front of him because of some ridiculous joke Toph made, holding Zuko’s hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world, he can’t help but think that falling in love is anything but painful.

Sokka turns around, catches him staring and grins, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

Zuko smiles, thinking just how much he loves Sokka, how much he loves his life, how much he loves his uncle, how much he loves his friends, how much he loves being alive, being there, curled up with Sokka on his couch, watching a stupid rom-com movie on Sokka’s cell-phone screen, sharing earphones with his boyfriend. Being there, in the house that he shares with his uncle—his real dad—in the house that he has come to call home. Being there, feeling safe in Sokka’s arms, with Toph hearing music on the TV, while Aang and Katara and Suki and Yue sleep, sprawled there and there all over his living-room.

“I love you,” Zuko tells Sokka, like he just revealed the biggest secret of the universe.

Love.

He feels the word on his tongue, and it tastes sweet. It tastes like the color of Sokka’s eyes, like the tone of Sokka’s laugh, like all of Sokka’s smiles—the gentle one, the soft one, the playful and flirty one, the wide one—all of them. Love tastes like Sokka holding his hand while they go for a walk, like Sokka’s voice when he talks about what he likes, like Sokka’s proud eyes after scoring a run, after Zuko shows him his grades. It tastes like a lot of things he can’t name, like the way Sokka says his name, like the way Sokka makes him feel, like that little mole under Sokka’s jaw, like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles with the setting sun of the beach, like the way his fingertips feel against Zuko’s neck. Like the way he looks at Zuko like he’s not broken, like he’s the best thing that ever existed, like his scar is beautiful and all of Zuko’s failures don’t matter to him because he’s him, and that is enough. Like Zuko is more than enough, and how he loves that he’s more than enough to Zuko, too.  

“I love you,” Zuko says again, in a low voice, and it feels real. It has meaning. It’s not an empty word at all.

For some reason, he feels like tearing up a bit.

Sokka’s face mellows, softens; he brushes his thumb under Zuko’s left eye, just at the edge of his scar, and his eyes become impossibly warm. Zuko wants to kiss all of his face; he wants to taste all of Sokka’s softness on his own lips.

There, in the quiet of Zuko’s living-room, Sokka smiles, and Zuko thinks he’s the most bewitching, stunning, ineffably beautiful being.

It feels like something ethereal. Sokka smiles and Zuko feels blessed to exist.

“I love you, too,” Sokka answers, like he’s sharing one of the secrets of the universe, too, like he’s never told anyone anything more true, and ever so gentle.

Zuko smiles and kisses him.

Falling in love is a blessed thing.

[seyaryminamoto]

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 8: Yakuza AU

On FF.net//On AO3

(Directly inspired by THIS PROMPT! Thank you, anon who brought it to mind... writing this was a blast :DDD)

The soft whirring of the machine stopped, and the teenager who had been flinching on the tattooing chair now gazed at him with tearful, hopeful eyes.

"I-is it done now?"

"It's done," the tattoo artist replied, setting down his implements. "You're a whole new man, eh?"

"W-will girls think I'm cool now?"

"Oh, please. Tattoos are a mark of greatness! You should know this!" the artist laughed, shaking his head. "The worthwhile girls, yes, will love a good tattoo on a cool man, I guarantee it."

He was only eighteen, so he was old enough to make wild decisions he might regret in the future. He had graduated from high school recently, and wanted to impress girls once he started college, apparently. If only a tattoo were a guarantee of a shift in personality and confidence… but for most common people, it was but a placebo they forgot about soon enough. Tattoos didn't mean the same to them as they meant to a certain, select group of people…

That select group didn't request for machine tattoos, or vivid, sometimes even fickle designs that held simple meanings. But irezumi, or tebori, were a true sign of strength, a rite of passage he had branded onto his own skin successfully many times now… a sign that revealed the difficult, disciplined way of life he'd abided by for his adult years, even if he still worked with machine tattooing system on the side, too.

He left the teenager to recover for a few minutes, and then guided him to the parlor's door: a new arrival held it open just as the boy was slithering out, and the innocent young man shrank in his frame upon glimpsing the tall, intimidating man who stood outside the parlor. With so many tattoos across his body, he appeared to be a most dangerous threat to a young man who only wanted to visit the parlor for a simple snake tattoo upon his forearm – it hadn't even been bigger than three inches.

"E-excuse me!" the teenager squeaked, rushing out as fast as he could. From inside the store, Sokka smirked as he watched him go.

"Definitely not of our type of people, eh?" he said, glancing at the older man by the door.

The same smirk appeared on his counterpart's face, and the man even let out a hearty laugh before reaching to clasp his shoulder with his strong hand.

"Seems like business is doing well, son?" he asked. Sokka grinned and nodded.

"So far, so good!" he said, ushering Hakoda inside the parlor. "I know Master Piandao thought I shouldn't practice both traditional and modern tattoos… but hey, it pays. Casual kids these days don't think our lifestyle's worth emulating, but they sure believe tattoos make them more interesting…"

"A good belief to have," Hakoda declared. Sokka chuckled as he collected two cans of soda from a small fridge behind his desk, offering one to his father quickly. "Though… as it is, our clan could do with more than tattoos to move forward, Sokka."

"Uh… what's that supposed to mean?" he said, blinking blankly as Hakoda accepted his offer of a drink.

"It means… well, you know just the type of work I've been trying to get into," Hakoda said, his voice lowering into a growl. His business voice, Sokka had learned as much since childhood. "But it's been a problem, you see? Those damn Homura…"

"Are they fighting our people again?" Sokka groaned, shaking his head. "They keep sneaking into our territory and then pretend we're the ones at fault…"

"They surely think we are. The Homura, as you well remember, have been around since the Edo period," Hakoda sighed. "We're too new to earn their respect. But that's precisely why I'm here today."

"Because… you have a plan on how to earn it? Or you have a plan to get rid of the Homura, fancy ancestral clan it is?" Sokka asked, crooking an eyebrow before sipping his drink. Hakoda smirked.

"I have a plan to get rid of the problem they pose, yes," he said. "And I think you, my wonderful heir, are the most suitable person to fulfill it."

"I… what?" Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "Uh, that's a little much, isn't it? You sure, dad? Why me?"

"Well, for one thing, this is crucial for our clan's survival," said Hakoda. "Can't entrust such a delicate operation to anyone I can't fully rely on…"

"And I'm the best choice for it?" Sokka asked, puzzled. "I thought I was supposed to focus on the tattoo-side of things…"

"You are, of course," Hakoda continued, with a shrug. "But a young man as talented and intelligent as you… surely you can take care of both things at the same time?"

"That's a lot of trust you're putting on me," Sokka chuckled. "But I guess I'll have to hear you out first, huh? What's your plan, dad?"

Unwelcome news weren't too surprising in any yakuza clans. That being said, it wasn't every day the uncontested crime bosses of Kobe would find themselves troubled by the behavior of any of their competition… for there was no sense in there being any competition in the first place. They already had control of the area, they'd held it for years, and they had no intentions of yielding it, only of cementing it further.

Methods to achieve such a feat were more complicated than other clans might have believed: they didn't merely deal in common crime, but also in crime at the very heights of society. It wasn't merely a matter of extorting the right, connected people, but of commanding enough respect from them to obtain exactly the results they were looking for. Ozai Homura saw this as an art, and it was one he was more than pleased to teach his son, despite he appeared to not have much of a knack for economics and numbers.

That was when two of his closest associates had arrived, however, with that day's puzzling news:

"Takase, that madman supplier, has reached out to us," Zhao said, releasing a heavy breath. "It seems he wishes to serve the Homura clan, despite his many claims in the past that he only wished to work with smaller clans."

Ozai's heart beat fast underneath his old chest burn, the one with which he had proven himself the true heir of Azulon Homura. His own father had chosen to brand him, once Iroh, his older brother, had turned his back on the clan and abandoned the yakuza life. Ozai had been more than ready to inherit the role, no matter how nervous he was about the prospect when it first presented itself. Now, his own son had a burn on his face, one that proved his resilience and strength to their clan. That his eye could still function, despite his face had been burned directly, had been yet another source of pride for his father. He had feared Zuko might not be strong enough for his fated role… but all in all, two potential heirs were better than one.

"What brought about this change of mind?" Ozai said, scowling. "Such a sudden switch must have happened for a reason."

"I thought the same thing," spoke the second newcomer: Ozai turned his attention towards his daughter as she spoke. "I believe it's a play by the Kawakami clan, as a matter of fact. What its ultimate purpose may be remains to be seen, but I advise against trusting this sudden offer of generosity blindly."

It was only natural that she'd have unique, special insight to offer, and yet Ozai's heart surged with pride when Azula intervened: he knew that, when problems emerged, she was ready to resolve them. Wherever his daughter involved herself, everything simply turned out for the Homura clan's favor.

"The Kawakami clan?" Zuko repeated. "They're meaningless though, aren't they?"

"For the time being, they appeared to be," Zhao agreed. "But if they're acting boldly in this manner, perhaps they're seeking to strengthen their position somehow…"

"By losing their suppliers?" Zuko asked. "Don't you think maybe they're just weak, Father? Too weak to even hold onto their providers?"

"I'm afraid we're in no position to make assumptions," Ozai said, frowning. "Leaving lesser clans unchecked can result in dangerous problems in the long run. They may mean no harm, they may be dissolving, but it isn't befitting of the Homura clan to jump at every opportunity for profit all the same."

"It's not how we've carried ourselves over the last five hundred years," Zhao agreed.

"And that we've retained our standards has brought us this far," said Ozai, strongly. "This supplier of arms may not be reliable. He could even serve as an inside source for the Kawakami…"

"I thought of that as well," Azula interjected. "While it could be a fool's move, I can't claim the Kawakami clan's leadership is completely sound of judgment. They might want Takase to serve as an inside source on what's happening within our clan, what movements we've been making. And while a supplier is far from the most reliable source of information, that's precisely why it'd be a useful one: they're counting on us to lower our guard and take for granted they wouldn't be quite so stupid as to spy on us through a weapons' supplier."

"A Trojan horse," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "Fortunately, we are not quite as gullible as that old civilization was. You shall take point on this, Azula."

"Should she…?" Zuko asked. Ozai raised an eyebrow before turning towards him. "It's only, well…"

"You know what your sister's duty is," Ozai declared. "One day, she will clear the way for you to be a successful clan leader, allowing you to focus your attention on the bigger picture while she removes the competition. She serves as your shield, and your first line of defense. This is no duty for the heir of the Homura clan to perform, but the perfect duty for the Homura clan's enforcer to deal with."

Azula smirked proudly at those words, staring at her brother pointedly. He shrank in his frame, shooting a light glare in her direction: he would have expected his duty as the heir of the Homura family to involve far more action than he'd seen so far. He bore the mark of the heir across his face, no less, making such a painful sacrifice to prove just how worthy he could be… and now he was stuck with what amounted to a desk job, while his sister, with her impeccable face and no burn marks to her name, dealt with the real threats herself.

It wasn't what he would have expected from the yakuza lifestyle, but he couldn't bring himself to protest, not when he knew his father would be cross and displeased if he failed to understand his place in the clan. But watching Azula walk away with that satisfied smirk only brought Zuko to frown further, to wish he could have a different life, one where no one would cast him snide glares, no doubt questioning whether he or his sister were better suited to inherit the great Homura clan…

"Back to your work, Zuko," Ozai said, once he finished speaking with Zhao about any other pending subjects.

Zuko turned again towards the screen, towards the stocks. Towards his studies… away from the complicated, strange times that would soon be brought about by two clans, set into collision by the wishes of their leaders, and by the actions of their respective chosen children…

The Kawakami headquarters appeared to be a perfectly simple building on the outside – true, with a few burly men standing guard by the doors –, that concealed nothing out of the ordinary behind its walls. It was where Sokka had been raised, and thus, his second home ever since he had moved out and into his master's home, six years ago. Nowadays, he lived in the upper floor of his tattoo parlor, where he spent most his time unless the clan required him for one reason or another. Today, of course, he would keep the parlor closed, despite he longed to return to working with his needles. Priorities were priorities, and no doubt his father would be cross if he disregarded his duties only to continue tattooing green teenagers with no true understanding of what a serious tattoo stood for.

He had been skimming through files in the headquarters' main computer when he heard a ruckus outside. Assuming his sister would handle it, Sokka decided to continue focusing on which other suppliers he could afford to send off to the Homura clan, when suddenly the door to the room was thrown open: Katara marched in, with Kattan beside her.

"Uh… something the matter?" Sokka asked, grimacing preemptively – there was no doubt something had gone wrong, especially going by Kattan's horrified face.

"Sokka, I was… I was on my way to Kuinase, to collect our tax?" he said, swallowing hard. "Two… two huge Homura henchmen were at the doors. I couldn't believe it, Sokka! I ran away before they could see me, but they were definitely Homura! I saw it, you know? That ugly-ass flame tattoo on their necks…"

"You just said… in Kuinase?!" Sokka gasped, jumping to his feet.

"Those bastards are messing with our territory," Katara snarled, looking at her brother intensely. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I…" Sokka gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

Oh, so much for the damn Homura honor. Was this really how things worked with them? No wonder they were so successful: even offerings in good faith went nowhere with these people. Any clan that so much as attempted to reach out to them would be doomed to be destroyed, for they'd likely, deliberately, interpret such displays as weaknesses rather than as the olive branches they were meant to be. They accepted no competition, was it? No one could go toe-to-toe against them…?

Well, they were in for quite the surprise. He had no intentions of yielding, and if this was how they wanted to play things, he'd step up to their level, for sure.

"I have a plan," Sokka leveled his cold, blue eyes at his sister and Kattan.

Deep in the heart of Kobe, the Homura headquarters stood inconspicuously as a tall, beautiful skyscraper, masqueraded as a perfectly upstanding company like those that were hosted in the neighboring modern buildings, with glass panels reflecting the sunlight and blinding all passersby during the day. It was a beautiful building, manned by countless elegantly dressed people who wouldn't be out of place in an actual company.

One of them was, of course, Azula Homura. On her casual days, she'd wear a black leather ensemble. Otherwise, her attire was comprised by a perfectly form-fitting pantsuit, with lapels as sharp as the bangs that framed her face, or the eyeliner she applied flawlessly every morning. She was beautiful and daunting: few dared approach her, for few knew what to make of someone as intimidating as her. She seemed to know every member of the clan thoroughly, had been able to sniff out spies within their ranks since her teenage years, and was rumored to have a secret database with all relevant information about their members and their enemies. It sounded like a fantasy, however: how could someone possibly keep track of the largest yakuza clan in the nation so effectively, let alone keep track of other clans, on top of theirs? And of politicians, and of businessmen, too…?

Whoever thought it was a fantasy, however, was severely mistaken: she had eyes and allies everywhere, and she smirked as she sat at her office, a massive room within the tallest floors of the Homura headquarters. She had customized it for her personal use, with a massive screen that displayed the view of many cameras all across Kobe's area. One day, she expected, she might acquire access to more than just the ones from Kobe… but for now, it was enough for her purposes.

For just this had helped her track down a rather curious man on a motorbike, who had just parked outside Hiranuma Shoten. It would have appeared an utterly irrelevant happenstance… if only his very bearing hadn't given away that he, just like herself, was part of a yakuza clan. Only, he had to be from a lesser clan, not only because few clans could afford to be as luxurious as the Homura… but his clothes, his bearing, even his motorbike, revealed he retained a certain humility, despite everything.

She had connected quickly with Hiranuma's internal camera afterwards: she kept an eye on the new arrival, amused by his initial attempts to purchase some food… and then he leaned close to the old man selling meat. Before long, the two were laughing. And then the butcher wasn't laughing anymore.

It was all an intimidation act, masqueraded by captivating the defenseless with promises and honeyed words… an intimidation tactic she herself had stooped to in the past, a tactic she had asked some of her top-trusted advisors to perform recently in the Akashi area, too. But this man… he had a way with it, no doubt. And while Hiranuma's cameras weren't highly defined – she'd have to convince her father to finance better surveillance systems for those under their protection, it would only help in the long run – she had the distinct feeling she knew who this yakuza stranger was…

She bit her lip before inputting her first guess in her database, on the next computer. And while the database was at it…

She dialed a number expertly, without even looking at her phone, before raising it to her ear with her left hand while deftly navigating her resources with her right. Within instants, the man she was calling picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hiranuma Shoten's owner is being extorted by a Kawakami, I believe. Perhaps even the heir, if my guess is accurate," Azula said, shifting through files quickly.

"We'll be there soon," the man on the other side spoke.

"I'll follow him too. You won't lose track of him," Azula promised.

"That would help us very much. We are ever at your service."

She smirked as she hung up the call, and just then, she happened upon the file she had been navigating through. She only had a picture of his face, which was exactly what the camera wouldn't allow her to see… but curses, she had updated this resource and hadn't so much as looked at the Kawakami heir's file so far, had she? Otherwise, she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that damn handsome visage…

"Guess you grew up just fine, did you?" Azula mused, allowing herself a small smirk.

His strong cheekbones, his manly, perfectly defined jawline, that dark skin, typical of the Kawakami's main branch… where so many in Japan preferred light skin, Azula found herself inevitably drawn to the opposite. A whim, she thought, the first times it had happened… but this damn Kawakami was likely to convince her of the opposite.

Though his most striking feature were his eyes: coldly, sharply, beautifully blue. Those were the eyes of a man who, if pushed, could commit a murder without blinking… and where that thought might have daunted anyone else, a yakuza princess, as she was often referred to, could only find that haunted darkness underneath the Kawakami's eyes to be a fascinating thing. If only his clan hadn't been founded over the last hundred years, he'd be under Homura protection instead, and…

… And she wouldn't finish that stupid, pointless thought. Fine, he was attractive, but she wasn't here to daydream over the enemy. Fool that she was.

Her eyes switched to the camera's screen again just when he was saying his goodbyes to a most grateful butcher. Azula snapped her tongue, making a mental note to send word to the man as soon as she had sorted out the Kawakami heir, if it truly was him. She really did hope it was him…

He had to be the one behind the generous giveaway of Takase, just as well. This was, she knew, retaliation for her own retaliation – she had sent henchmen to Akashi, to spread word that the Kawakami were weakened and couldn't afford to protect them anymore, losing suppliers as they were. No doubt that move didn't sit well with her rival, but she couldn't care less: he was playing a game he couldn't afford to win, and she would gladly teach him as much with each of her responses.

She swapped back to the street's camera and watched him climb aboard his motorbike, setting his helmet in place – he was responsible, of course, but he was also a man of style, wearing a helmet worthy of racers rather than a simple, casual, cheap one. It was, perhaps, the least humble element in his apparel. Azula smirked as she switched from camera to camera while following him across the streets: she jotted down the motorbike's plate, and was unsurprised when she found no identifiable bike under those numbers in the Japanese government's databases of legal vehicles. She couldn't help but smile as she continued to follow him, riding along with him, without his awareness.

He finally made a new stop: a yakiniku restaurant, Miyabi. Azula released a breath before redialing, once she confirmed he had entered the restaurant in question.

"He's in Miyabi now. How far away are you?"

"Oh, a change in location? Not to worry. We can be there within the next three minutes."

"Make haste, then. I can follow him as much as necessary, but this is for the community's good, isn't it?" Azula said, sardonically.

"Of course it is," replied the serious man on the other side. She smirked.

"You're never any fun," she said.

"I'm not paid to be fun," was his reply again.

"Not sure you could be, even if you were," she said, releasing a breath. "I'm counting on you, Renkai."

"As you wish."

Again, the communication was interrupted, and again, Azula was free to watch the Kawakami heir, now through Miyabi's better cameras. Yes, this was him, no doubt. His haircut was different nowadays, with that manly shaved undercut, as well as that perfect ponytail – was it called that, in his case? She sported one of her own, though his was shorter than hers – that only enhanced his intimidating factor. He appeared as a modern samurai, Azula guessed… perhaps that was what he fashioned himself as. The idea should sound ridiculous rather than appealing, and yet…

"How you've grown, Sokka," she whispered, biting her lip.

She had met him only on occasion, during yakuza clan meetings, whether those held to solve disputes between other clans, or to strike temporary alliances to destroy those who weren't playing by the rules. He always stuck to his father, just as Azula always stuck to hers. They had met each other's gaze a few times, as they were amongst the only young people in the room, even when they were teenagers… but that had been all. She wasn't sure they had ever exchanged any words, and if they had, she sure had forgotten them. They had only been children back then… now they were fully grown, actual players in this game, ready to make their mark across Hyogo prefecture by any means necessary. He was surely just as ambitious as she was… and that thought was thrilling to her.

Though she wondered if she was giving him too much credit: how would he react, once the inevitable happened? Once the men she had sent after him broke through Miyabi's door, in less than a minute now…

Azula couldn't contain a grin as she saw him growing nervous: was he hearing the sounds of doom? Was he truly so foolish as to assume it wasn't meant for him? He wasn't doing anything harmful, no, of course not, he was innocent… she could see it all in his face, and it was more than laughable. Oh, perhaps she really had been giving him too much credit: the Kawakami could be as attractive as they wished, but they were no match for the full forces of the Homura clan.

The door was thrown open before Sokka had any chance to react: he raised his hands bitterly as the police stepped up, with their blunt weapons at the ready in case he did anything dangerous. Miyabi's owner, an elderly woman, appeared utterly horrified by whatever was happening, but she deflected all blame and pointed to Sokka constantly… that was, of course, the natural behavior of anyone who owed their safety and wellbeing to a yakuza clan. She couldn't be caught dealing with someone from another clan, absolutely not…

Azula laughed and sighed, watching as Renkai, clad in his immaculate, white uniform, dragged Sokka through the doors after shackling his hands. Well, that had been fun, even if her contact within the city police hadn't intended to amuse her…

Yet the stubborn, angry yakuza shot a glare at the nearest camera in the streets, taking her by surprise for it. Had he known he was being followed remotely? Had he noticed, perhaps? Surely not… surely he believed it was just the police's doing. He might not have known the Homura had infiltrated their organization for almost two hundred years… and yet, even through that low-resolution camera, she could sense his bitterness, and she relished in it. A soft chuckle left her lips as she raised an eyebrow defiantly towards his image:

"Well, then… what shall be your next move, Sokka Kawakami?"

Katara and Kya didn't hold back the judgmental stares once Sokka's fine was fully paid, and he was a free man once again. He scoffed as they walked together, as the sunset ominously promised they'd be in hostile territory by nightfall, but surely they'd be able to find a car to take them to Akashi before long…

"You really are an idiot, picking fights with the Homura like this…" Katara said. Sokka huffed.

"I'm not picking fights! I was trying to be friendly, they gave me the finger figuratively, so I retaliated!" he said. "But they're just… Ugh! How shitty can they be, setting the police on me? That's bad form! That's like… tattling on your sibling when you're a child!"

"Hey! Are you really bringing up our childhood now? You're the one who landed himself in this mess!" Katara scolded him, but Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Kya groaned and wrapped an arm around each of her children's shoulders, pulling them together and against her body. Even then, Sokka and Katara wouldn't stop scowling at each other.

"What matters most is you're safe now, Sokka. Safe, and soon outside Homura territory," Kya said, smiling at her son. "I know you must be frustrated, dear, but take it easy. Whatever mission your father gave you, surely there's other ways to fulfill it…"

"I wonder about that," Sokka grumbled. "As far as I can tell, I'm simply…"

A light tremor, underneath their feet, stopped Sokka halfway through his rambling. Katara gasped, despite quakes were perfectly common in Japan… for the vibrations were growing stronger, worrisomely so.

"Mom, Katara!" Sokka shouted, wrapping his arms protectively around them as he ran them away from the tallest buildings.

They were lucky to be out in open spaces, but panic flared inside all their chests as the earth's movements continued to shake them to the bone. People were screaming – glass shattered, and even cracks on the floor appeared to spread as the telluric movements continued for what felt like an eternity. Sokka continued to shield both his mother and sister with his body, in case any glass from the buildings around them came crashing down, but they managed to reach a park safely, without any such projectiles falling upon them.

That being said… the vibrations continued, and loud, explosive sounds could be heard across the city. Sokka still held onto both Katara and Kya, who seemed to cower from the rustling earthquake in his chest. He'd protect them… but earthquakes of this magnitude were seldom harmless, and the sounds they could hear in the distance weren't promising. Even before the shaking dwindled, he knew the whole prefecture had sustained a lot of damage… and he knew he wanted to be there to fix as much of it as he could, no matter how difficult it might be.

It wasn't the worst of all earthquakes, and yet a 7.7 quake was still powerful enough to shake down the foundations of the weakest buildings in Kobe. The damage was difficult to assess at the earliest stages, but the wounded numbered around the hundreds, and the confirmed death toll wouldn't be much lesser than that. News outlets reported on the disaster, as relief efforts seemed to flood the city area, aiding those who had been left homeless, those who had lost everything.

The Homura clan had been safe, for their perfectly modern building hadn't sustained even a single crack to its foundations. The evacuation was quite nerve-wrecking, for many people couldn't possibly stay calm in the face of catastrophes, and their anxiety could prove contagious to those who, under other circumstances, might have handled themselves better. Even Zuko had appeared close to a nervous breakdown for a time, and Azula wished she could stop from being affected by other people's actions or reactions… once she was safely outside, and most the evacuation efforts were finished, she turned to her father, who stood at their building's entrance, surrounded by bodyguards, a stern scowl on his face.

"What… what shall we do?" she asked. Ozai scoffed.

"This will be an economic disaster. Again," he growled. "I'll let you know if I need your assistance."

Azula swallowed hard but lowered her gaze. Well, at least she'd done her job before this tragedy took place. The Kawakami clan would certainly not be much of a problem, though she did wonder quietly, despite her better judgment, if the heir had been released from jail before the earthquake started…

Why did she feel the need to check on that? Maybe she had been enjoying the strange entertainment he provided her with… maybe that was it. But it was no reason to focus on him now, for sure. She didn't know the guy, not truly, and however handsome he might be, his wellbeing was his clan's business, not hers. That's how life worked. That's how it had to be. Yakuza looked after their own, and that was that.

Yet as days passed, and relief efforts became the sole focus of the bulk of the population, unsettling news reached Azula by word of mouth: it seemed a yakuza clan had taken to offering relief, personally, to the victims of the disaster. She received pictures soon, of those men in what in her eyes was outdated yakuza apparel, covered in tattoos, helping hoist debris off buildings. There were even women, also bearing similar tattoos, offering relief in the form of food and shelter to many who were left with none.

And then the helicopter: they had a helicopter. They were scouring the city from above, searching for survivors, sending their people to dig through the worst rubble until they saved as many lives as they possibly could.

She could tell it was them, even before seeing a picture where he, of all people, was featured. A picture of him climbing out of a fallen building, carrying two battered children in his arms, an exhausted expression across his handsome, haggard face. A symbol of hope, of hard work, of strength… all of it, carried across those richly tattooed arms. If she hadn't been floored by the impact of their actions and rescue efforts, her loins might have just taken the wheel to focus, as unnecessarily as ever, on what a powerful man the Kawakami heir had turned out to be.

But there was something far more important than that to worry about. For her father would need to hear about this. And once he did…

"Curse them! Curse those bastards!" growled Ozai, slamming the tablet on his office's marble floors. Azula flinched when the device shattered by her father's violent gesture: Zuko as well recoiled, watching his father warily, in fear of how far his temper would take him this time.

Ozai shook his head as he paced through the room, the shattered tablet forgotten now. Zuko swallowed hard and raised his voice, no matter how daunting his father's wrath might be.

"We should be out there too. If we help…!"

"Silence! I won't even hear of it!" Ozai snapped, turning quickly to shoot a deadly glare at his son. Zuko shrank in place, daunted immediately. "We won't imitate lesser clans! We will find another way to put an end to their ambitions. They've certainly bitten off more than they can chew if they expect they'll ever be allowed to take our clan's place!"

"If I may…" Azula chimed in, and this time Ozai did appear inclined to listen. Yet another blow to Zuko's ego, although this time it didn't seem Azula was about to rejoice for it. "A yakuza clan looks after their own. That is our founding creed."

"What of it?" Ozai said, and his temper appeared poised to rear its ugly visage again.

"I believe we should look after our own, yes," Azula said, swallowing hard, intimidated as well… despite she was certain her plan would appear far more agreeable to her father than her brother's words had been. "You know I keep tabs on all our associated businesses. I suggest we offer monetary relief to those associated with us. While it may not garner our clan the same renown and media attention the Kawakami might attain…"

"It will ascertain they know we haven't forsaken them," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "And it will prevent them from turning their backs on us, at least."

"I hope so," Azula said. "We do have the funds, don't we?"

"Yes… yes we do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "Well, then. Perhaps it is time we remind the common folk of how valuable it is to stay on the Homura's good side."

Zuko frowned, glancing at his sister uneasily as they both were dismissed from Ozai's office. With curt bows, the two siblings left together, and Zuko barely waited for the door to be closed before scowling at Azula.

"Why did you suggest that? We're not loan sharks, are we?" Zuko said. "We can't let the Kawakami upstage us…"

"They already have," Azula hissed back. Zuko froze in place. "The Homura family doesn't follow the examples set by others, Zuko. You should know better than to even suggest we do. We're the trailblazers, not them. And if we simply fall in line, right behind a lesser clan, our reputation will be far more damaged than it is already."

"But… those are actual people, in danger, suffering," Zuko told her, as they walked together towards the nearby, modern elevator. Azula scoffed, but Zuko didn't relent. "We can't just toss a check at them and expect it'll all turn out for the better!"

"We'll make wire transfers, much faster and more effective than checks…"

"That's not my point!"

"I know it's not, but I wish it were," Azula hissed, glaring at him. Zuko froze in place. "Keep talking like this, and it won't be long before father decides you're not worthy of your burn mark. You sound like Uncle Iroh."

Zuko gritted his teeth as Azula stepped into the elevator. She didn't wait for him to enter it too before tapping her floor, and Zuko made no efforts to join her as the doors closed. Well, waiting for another elevator ride should give him some time to think, at least.

Truthfully, they had never involved themselves with these disasters beyond looking after their own people. At least, not as far as Azula remembered. She had memorized the clan's history since childhood… and it was impossible to think of any other situation where they had barged into the scene the way the Kawakami had just now, because the Homura simply didn't do that sort of thing. If they ever had, they would've beaten the Kawakami to it already.

Azula sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. What she'd offered Ozai was but damage control… a manner of retaining some power, before the media and the relief efforts of the Kawakami clan stole it all from them. And yet why, even as she made her way to her hi-tech office, was it the only thing she could evoke in her mind was that image of the strong, tall Sokka Kawakami, helping children to safety…?

"You're not serious, are you? Money? That's what they're doing?" Sokka asked, aghast, staring at Hakoda in chagrin.

And yet Hakoda smiled proudly, patting his strong son's shoulder gently. The whole family was gathered for lunch at one of the relief centers, where they had aided in distributing food to countless homeless people who now looked to them as saviors. They'd need as much help as they could get… but most the ones who had businesses, whether still functioning or not, had already stopped appearing at the Kawakami clan's relief centers. Their absence had bothered Sokka at first… and now it unnerved him, despite it seemed his father was perfectly comfortable with the situation.

"The Homura have offered monetary relief to the people, yes," Hakoda nodded. "And yet not all have taken it. Beyond that, many new faces have turned to us for help: not the Homura, not the government, us. While we have certainly taken a blow to our finances… it's safe to say we're on a good path at the moment, Sokka. You needn't panic, alright?"

"I… I know that, it's just… ugh," Sokka growled, shaking his head. "Every new thing I know about the Homura makes them more despicable. They're so… distant, even with those they're supposed to be protecting. And giving people money when they've lost everything… as if that'd be any good."

"It helps in its own way," Kya acknowledged, sipping her plastic cup's drink slowly. "But it's not the honorable way to proceed, no."

"That's the thing with the Homura. It always has been," Hakoda said. "Honor… it's an important concept for some yakuza: not them, though, no matter if they claim otherwise. Profit drives them, profit and success. And while I did ask you to figure out how to strike an alliance with them, you should never forget that truth, Sokka. Even if they decide to join forces with us, the Homura aren't going to do anything against their interests. They'll always look for profit and advancements. It's not how we should ever conduct ourselves, for sure."

"We won't," Sokka said, stubbornly.

"Why ally ourselves with them anyway?" Katara asked, with a grimace. "Our great-grandfather really should've set up his clan elsewhere. Having the Homura for neighbors is dreadful."

"They could be worse," Hakoda smiled, awkwardly. "But I only want an alliance for the sake of our clan. I don't want them to continue phasing us out. Other clans have joined forces elsewhere in the country, you know? Mainly to hold the fort against other up and coming clans. We could do the same thing with the Homura, and it'd certainly be the strongest alliance in the nation…"

"Now it is. Considering how big we've gotten," said Katara, grinning. "We have a lot of new recruits, begging to join the clan."

"See? It all comes together," said Hakoda, beaming at Sokka. "Don't despair, my boy! Hope is in the horizon!"

Was it, though? Sokka bit his lip but nodded, in surrender.

He didn't return to headquarters with the rest of his family after the food operative was finished. Instead, he took to doing what he'd done since the earthquake: walking across the streets, assessing the damage, pondering how many efforts and resources were needed to fix it. His parlor had been safe, he had checked on the day after the earthquake, but the nearby houses, especially the traditional ones, had sustained plenty of damage, some even torn down completely by the shockwaves. He had helped as best he could in his area, and then proceeded to offer support everywhere his father told him to go, as he organized the relief efforts to the best of the Kawakami clan's ability.

But Hakoda's words about the Homura returned to mind. Sokka sighed as he made his way through the sidewalk across Matsugaoka Park, pondering just how complicated this whole matter of an alliance would be. They didn't share the same values, nor did they work for the same purposes. Ozai Homura had always been known to be a merciless clan boss… meanwhile, Hakoda was the most spirited, good-natured of them all, as far as Sokka could tell. If the Homura were truly this dishonorable, though… was it even worth it to strike a bargain with them?

It could allow them to help more people, Sokka reasoned. The Homura, if they ever let loose with their money, at least just a little, could fund immense community programs of the sorts the Kawakami had never been able to handle themselves. It was a valuable alliance… and not having to fear the Homura henchmen would fight their own on sight was quite a good idea. Not being sent to jail because he was trying to poach their people would be nice, too…

How had they even pulled that off, for starters? He had heard the Homura kept an eye everywhere, on everything… he frowned, blinking at a contraption not far from where he walked: traffic cameras. There had been one near Miyabi, too. While those surely were connected with the government, there were far more cameras on this street's surveilance contraption than the strictly necessary, weren't there? He scowled, hands on his hips, as he stopped to stare at them: some were aimed towards the sidewalks, not exclusively the street. It wasn't that the government was too cheap to do this… but six cameras in the same place? Excessive… and perhaps meaningful.

Was this what the Homura did? They surveilled the whole city through an immense camera circuit? Were they setting up their own devices, or were they working covertly with the government and the police…? Both possibilities were there. But he guessed, as he stared at the camera aimed at him, that he could send a message to the Homura all the same: an alliance should be struck, as Hakoda had asked of him. An alliance that should prove favorable to both clans, an offering of something the Homura lacked… the Homura, who had everything in the world, as far as everyone know.

Everything but one thing, come to think of it. Sokka stroked his chin, pondering Kattan's words, and his own knowledge of Homura henchmen, before making up his mind about what the next move should be.

He returned to headquarters quickly, rather than heading home: the one man he had to find, the one he was looking for, happened to be there, waiting to meet with him.

"I was rejected!" Takase declared, throwing his hands in the air. "Sorry, but you can't get rid of me that easily. That's just how it is."

"I see," Sokka chuckled. "Well, it's good to have you back. Though I'm surprised they rejected you so boldly, huh? One would think they'd know better than to toss away a great asset like yourself."

"And quite the asset I am, too, but if they don't know my worth, it ain't my business," declared Takase.

"Good, though… can I ask, who did you meet while they deliberated on whether to work with you or not?" Sokka said. "Was it goons, or were there any higher-ups in there…?"

"Eh? Two higher-ups, actually. They can't have goons deciding on hiring a bigshot like me, eh?" said Takase. "The first one… he had those ear whiskers, you know? Them bug fuzzy hair right past the ears…"

"Mutton chops? Sideburns?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile.

"There, there! That's the thing!"

"Then Zhao Homura," Sokka hissed. "And the other?"

"Eh, some girl. Probably a little younger than you… your sister's age, maybe? But it looked like she was the boss instead. I didn't catch her name, but it felt like… like she was a razor, somehow? You know? I thought to offer to design a razor for her, but then she cut me down, so I thought – does she even need one? Heck no!"

"Was she… dark-haired?" Sokka asked. "Fair skin? Maybe gold eyes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, all that," said Takase, nodding. "She was dressed all fancy too. You know… maybe she's the Homura daughter! Ha! I hadn't even thought of it, but it's got to be her…"

"It's got to be her, alright," Sokka smiled slowly, the gears turning gradually in his mind.

It did make perfect sense… she was, after all, rumored to be the true strength that held the Homura together. She was seldom seen unless it was necessary, and her private life was, in all likelihood, as private as it could get. Sokka couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her in person… surely they had still been as good as children. But that was then, and this was now: he needed to contact her, and to settle their dispute in the smoothest way possible.

The best means through which to achieve that, however, was none other than his top-of-the-line, networking sister: Katara was happy to see him, as ever… and utterly confused when he voiced his request.

"You want me to tell you everything I know about Azula Homura?" she repeated. "Well… damn, not much. She keeps to herself? Some people say she's obsessed with her work, and the whole reason the Homura clan is even succeeding despite the massive loss of members they had after the previous heir abandoned? You remember that story, right?"

"Right, the heir who defected and ran away to Korea?" Sokka said, nodding. "His son was killed or something, wasn't that it?"

"I think so," Katara answered. "No idea if Azula Homura has an heir burn, if that's what you wanted to know…"

"I doubt it," Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "But… do you think you know people who know her?"

"I think I could reach her, if you need me to?" Katara said, eyeing him warily. "Why? If you want an arranged marriage you could ask for something a little less outlandish…?"

"I wasn't going to ask for… hey. Hey, now, that's not the worst idea," Sokka reasoned, smirking as he prodded his stubble with his thumb. Katara huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I bet this is all over dad's request to help him ally with the Homura… well, whatever!" she said. "I'll see what I can do, I'll try to get her a message. But just so you know…"

"I owe you, big time, yep," Sokka grinned. "I'll design a great tattoo for you!"

"You'd better," Katara huffed, smiling at her brother: she wasn't quite as covered in tattoos as he was, but she already sported a few of her brother's creations on her arms. Maybe one on her ankle wouldn't be a bad idea…

Sokka returned shortly afterwards with the message he needed to convey. And Katara took to unraveling the network through which she'd bring it to the Homura princess, a far more complicated feat than she expected it to be.

The key to the plan was a perfectly discreet locale, a classy bar behind a beautiful brown door, in a small building. Shiori had often been a location suited for casual encounters between low-ranked clan members of any yakuza family, and as it happened, the most common visitors were the henchmen of the Homura clan. Katara found the right person to whom she could ask to slip the note to any Homura who appeared capable enough to act on it: the karaoke room within the building was where the exchange took place, where a young man of the Kawakami took to any and all extremes to convince a mature Homura woman to see to it that Sokka's message was conveyed successfully.

The message was then passed from Homura hand to Homura hand, until finally it reached the destination it sought, when a tall Homura goon had knocked on Azula's door, gesturing at a small leaflet in his hand.

"Seems like you've got a message. Nothing harmful in it, I checked, but… might useful, I dunno," said the goon, handing the message to the heir's daughter. Her eyes narrowed as she snagged the paper from his hand… and her heart, so tempered and evenly paced, suddenly raced upon reading the contents of the message.

Got a business proposal for you. Check your logs, Meimai Central, 12/6: Matsugaoka Park on 15/6, at 7. I'll make it worth your while.

Her chest tightened as she read those words. Someone had unraveled the rather obvious truth – that she could see through the cameras all across the city. And that person had a business proposal for her: even before dismissing the goon, and searching through her camera logs, she knew who she'd find in the video registry… and her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw him, staring directly into the camera, waving, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive and definitely inappropriate manner.

A business proposal… well, she could hear him out. She should, if anything: if she found any weaknesses worth exploiting, she'd tear the Kawakami down and protect the interests of the Homura. That was what she'd do, what she'd always been meant to do…

Though, if she took a light detour before getting there, in case the Kawakami heir was interested, she wouldn't complain one bit.

Sokka breathed out slowly as he stepped off the sidewalk. The street was fortunately empty… or perhaps not quite that fortunately, really. Surely the Homura princess had set up some sort of forcible detour for cars to ensure the encounter between them would have perfect privacy… and perfect surveillance by her people. He released a breath as he entered Matsugaoka park's premises, sensing a thousand eyes upon himself… knowing there might as well be a thousand. There was no way she would attend this meeting without the thickest, sturdiest security detail ever.

He breathed out as he paced inside the park, searching with his gaze until his eyes finally landed upon a human silhouette, standing amidst the trees, under a lamppost with unsteady, blinking brightness.

He started on his way towards her as quietly as possible, assessing the enemy – or the ally-to-be, if all went well – as thoroughly as he dared. And there was plenty to assess, too: she had decided to wear a leather ensemble for this encounter, apparel worthy of a biker, Sokka thought to himself, but where it could have looked ridiculous in anyone else, it was breathtaking in a woman of her figure. Her long, dark, flowing hair played in the breeze, held up in a long ponytail that exposed her nape frequently, if the wind blew her strands in the right direction.

Even now, when looking at her from behind – and enjoying thoroughly the sight of her rear's curves, goodness, how dared she dress in leather when she already had a killer body? – his whole system jolted with anticipation. Chances to interact with other clans were sparse, and they never ever sent anyone who looked remotely as good as Azula Homura did… though Sokka hoped, despite he knew it was stupid, that her face wouldn't be all that pretty. If it was, he'd be a goner, so if just that…

"That's far enough," spoke a strong, feminine voice: her voice. His body shivered involuntarily, as he halted on his spot, obeying her immediately.

She turned then, and all his hopes shattered altogether: she was gorgeous. Everything about her was impossibly appealing, to the point his damn body appeared to be reacting to the Homura's presence as it pleased. No, there was no reason to be aroused, not when she would only be here with very strict purposes in mind…

"You're awfully relaxed, aren't you?" Azula Homura asked. Sokka swallowed hard but smirked.

"If your sharpshooters take me down now… well, can't say I'd ever hoped to get a better view than this, in my final moments," he said.

"How terribly corny," said Azula, rolling her eyes. "Does that sort of line work with all the girls you meet?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I don't usually attempt to meet up with girls who have hundreds of sharpshooters aiming at me, would you?" he said. To his delight, she smiled.

"Your dating life must be boring, if so," she said. He smirked.

"Has been, so far. Are you feeling bad for me, all of sudden?" he inquired, casually. Azula scoffed, though she still smiled.

"Not quite. I'm amused, if anything," she said. "But I'd assume you didn't ask me to come here just because you wanted to swap our dating histories, did you? I could've simply sent you a summary of mine if you'd asked…"

"Right. And I'm sure you've already looked through mine?" he said, smirking. "Seems like you know everything going on in this city."

"And I thought the Kawakami were relegated to southern Akashi, hence, not in this city," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. "Or is it that you're here to sell Kawakami territory to us? Want me to keep watch over your city, too?"

"Want to keep watch over it?" Sokka asked, raising his eyebrows. Azula's amusement receded. "Look… you're smart. Smarter than anyone else in the Homura clan. Surely the thought has occurred to you, right? We Kawakami are a pointless, boring rock in your fancy Homura shoe. We get in the way of your business, whether intentionally or not, because we took office way too close to your domains. And where you guys probably think the best solution is to snuff us out… I think there's a much more peaceful solution we can consider."

"And what's that?" Azula asked, with a sardonic smile.

"An alliance," Sokka said. Unsurprisingly, Azula scoffed.

"What do we have to gain by allying with you? What would the Kawakami offer the Homura that we lack? This is what you and your father have been after? The reason you gave us Takase, the reason you started to defy us by attempting to steal our people…"

"Hey, now, you started it!" Sokka pouted. Azula, despite herself, smiled.

"You're childish. And only a childish man would make a suggestion as outlandish as this one," she said, simply. "I should have the sharpshooters shoot you indeed for all this nonsense…"

"Don't know if you should do that," Sokka said, smiling. "Your defenses are within the park, aren't they? Well… I may have posed a few friends in the nearby buildings just as well. I made an educated guess regarding where you'd position yours, offered my own sharpshooters the possible locations for your henchmen…"

"So you're saying, if mine shoot you, yours will shoot them… you'd die, then my henchmen die, then I make myself scarce and I survive while you don't?" she said, smirking. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"You can't be sure you'll get away so easily," he said.

"Oh, what makes you think that?" she asked, amused again. "You expect I won't know these territories as thoroughly as I please, Kawakami?"

"I expect, rather, that you'd be amenable to discussing business instead of jumping for the kill right away," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I know you've been watching me for a while, hell knows just how far your reach goes. You know I didn't come alone either, much like you didn't. So… how about we have our perfectly normal business exchange, and if you think my idea is worthless, you let me know, and we'll go our separate ways without causing any deaths that might result in a massive clan war?"

"Hmm… wouldn't be massive. The Homura outnumber your clan by tenfold, at least," said Azula, with a sardonic grin. Sokka rolled his eyes but smiled.

"My point still stands. You don't want to cause more trouble for the Homura by killing me when I'm only here for business," he said, raising his hands.

"Indeed, the business of an alliance that doesn't appear to offer much in the way of benefits to the Homura clan," said Azula, haughtily. "Why do I need to ally with you, Sokka Kawakami?"

"You don't need to, that's the truth. Neither do we need to be allied with you," he conceded. "But the Kyoshi clan down south was faltering, and after striking an alliance with the Tsuchiya clan, they've both thrived and resurged as leading clans. I'm not saying the Homura need an alliance to stay solid in their position as the biggest clan in the nation… but surely you guys don't want the others to catch up to you, right?"

"Surely," Azula repeated, tapping her arm with a finger. "All that being said… the Homura clan doesn't quite need to associate with a lesser clan to rise in prominence. There's parts of Asia that outright don't know what the word "yakuza" stands for, but tremble in fear upon hearing the family name "Homura". There have been movies about us, documentaries, we have contacts that the rest of the clans wish they could attain… and you think your clan would be our most favorable alliance possible? Why?"

"I suppose the geopolitical angle doesn't interest you much?" Sokka said. "Having freedom to go in and out of Akashi… I'd argue, of course, that the terms of the alliance should make it so we retain jurisdiction in our cities and territories, but the other clan has freedom of passage and occasional operations – with previously granted permission – in the area. We could even settle on a fee of a sort, a percentage of money gained from operations that we'd offer you, you could do the same for us…"

"Sounds counterproductive," said Azula. Sokka chuckled.

"Right, right, it's easier to kill off the Kawakami, isn't it? But see, there is one thing our clan can offer yours, one thing you really could use…" he smirked, stepping closer to her. "Something you have been missing for, well, I don't know how many years? Something I guess you guys disregarded as irrelevant, going by how your people are always dressed in fancy, full-body suits, these days…"

"What… are you getting at?" Azula said, despite her better sense already suspected what his point would be. Sokka smirked.

"You don't have a proper tebori artist anymore, do you?" he said. She couldn't hide the irritation that crossed her face. "Haven't had one for a very long time. Your people? If they have any tattoos, it's some ridiculous-looking little flame, probably made with western technique…"

"The fools who have tattooed themselves with that thing have been reprimanded, and others discouraged from following their example," Azula snapped. Sokka's grin only gained further mischief. "That being said, how exactly does the Kawakami clan wind up obtaining a rare, tebori artist where the Homura clan couldn't find any to replace the old master we lost about twenty years ago?"

"Why… we have our secrets, you have yours," Sokka shrugged. Azula scoffed.

"I question your words. Perhaps you don't have one at all, and you're pulling my hair," she said. Sokka snorted.

"Alright… this won't look good, but please, don't order your men to shoot me for it," he said, raising his hands defensively… before pulling open his jacket.

The t-shirt he wore underneath it wrapped around his muscular body, despite it wasn't meant to be tight. His chest appeared large, even while hidden beneath another layer of fabric… and his arms were rather thick, with tense muscles that shifted in an entrancing way as Sokka set down his jacket and made to remove his t-shirt next.

Azula's jaw threatened to drop, but she ensured not to show how badly this particular, shameless display of her opponent was affecting her. Oh, that body… the more he exposed it, the more she feared she'd make a fool of herself, jumping to devour him in the eyes of all the sharpshooters they both had brought with them to this park. Ugh, she was a fool for wishing she had taken no precautions, but the gradually exposed body before her, each tense muscle, each ridge of his abs and pectorals, were tugging through all her many layers of powerful self-control, urging her to act on her impulses for once instead of holding back for appearances' sake…

She had forgotten the purpose of his disrobing once the t-shirt was fully removed, but he hadn't: he gestured at the shapes over his shoulders, spreading into his bare chest.

"You can tell, can't you? They're actual tebori," he said. "I applied these myself."

"You… what?" Azula gasped, staring at him in genuine astonishment. Sokka grinned.

"Let it be known that I have the self-control and pain-threshold to pull off art on my own body without mucking it up," he smirked. "I've been tattooing many of the Kawakami ever since my master decided I was ready. Most prefer koi tattoos in our clan, but I… I liked the wolf. It's fierce, and it protects the pack. I like to think of myself as one, obnoxious as it sounds…"

Well, a man with that body had every right to be as obnoxious as he pleased, as far as Azula was concerned. Twin wolves stood at each of his shoulders, their jaws open threateningly, claws and fangs beared, and they lunged downwards into Sokka's pectorals, right above his nipples. It wasn't all though: waves appeared to spread across underneath the wolves, across his abdomen, perhaps even over his back…

"And you expect me to think… you tattooed your own back?" she asked, skeptical. Sokka chuckled.

"Yeah, that one I couldn't do myself. My old master actually started the back tattoo for me," Sokka explained, turning around and gesturing at the design: Azula nearly gasped, for the pattern of the sea merged into yet another wolf shape, one that appeared ready to pounce, right across his spine. "I told him what I had in mind, he started from there, told me I'd only be allowed to start tattooing my clansmen if I succeeded at tattooing myself. And I did."

"You… did. I suppose. Though… I don't know if I believe you yet," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "You claim you can do tebori, but you alone have tattooed all the Kawakami? Just one man wouldn't suffice for our clan."

"I'm not the only one, no," Sokka smiled. "Though I'm one of the best, for sure. My master might agree to tattoo a few of your people, as long as you all ask nicely. There's about three more of his apprentices within our ranks, the third is still pretty green but the others are good enough. Of course, it'll take a while… but your clan can go right back to bearing amazing tattoos that will instill fear in the hearts of the enemy, eh? Instead of inspiring laughter, like that silly flame does…"

"Be that as it may, we haven't needed tattoos for that purpose for a while" Azula said… though her tone suggested she saw actual value in this proposal, if nothing else.

"Not like they'd hurt, eh? Well, figuratively anyway," said Sokka, smiling as he pulled his shirt on again, and while Azula didn't quite want to stop watching his bare body, even the visual of him dressing up proved a most stimulating. "It's a big tradition for yakuza, always has been. Surely your dad will want to hear of this offer, at least? If he says no, fine, I'll accept my defeat. If he says yes…"

"He won't say either no or yes until I've decided your offer and your apparent skills are trustworthy," Azula declared, stubbornly. Sokka blinked blankly. "By which I mean… if you agree to tattoo one member of our clan as an example of what you can do, and you prove successful, I'll discuss your alliance proposal and possibilities with my father. If I can interest him in this arrangement, you may meet directly with him – though I suppose it'd be more agreeable if your father were the one to meet him and settle the alliance. Still… first of all, I'll have to be sure you're not pulling our hair."

"Heh. Seems fair," Sokka nodded. "Alright, then. I guess I'll give you the location of my parlor, in a show of good faith… send your clan member tomorrow? If it's a full-body tattoo, though, this could take a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. "Pardon my ignorance, but I haven't really had to worry about the logistics of tebori tattoos for as long as I've been working actively in the Homura clan."

"Well, depends on the difficulty. But sessions could even span months, if it's too tricky," Sokka admitted. Azula scowled.

"How do you plan on tattooing all our people if it takes months?" she asked.

"It doesn't always take that long, but I'd think you'd know better than to expect this for all your people?" Sokka laughed. "I'd think the bigger fish are the ones who ought to have the tebori, if they want them, of course. You could even make it a matter of a reward: if they do their jobs well, they'll be eligible for tattoos with us. See?"

"I see," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "Well, then… I'll contact you for the address tomorrow."

"I guess you can get my number, just like that?" Sokka asked, amused.

"Buy yourself a burner phone, if you don't trust me," she said, smiling too. "There's a store nearby, you can find one there. I'll get the number out of the owner, and contact you through a burner of my own."

"Seems fair," Sokka smiled. "Well, then… we're in temporary business, for now?"

"Making it a permanent deal shall hinge on your skills, above all else," Azula raised her head haughtily. "For the time being, I'll expect your people to stay in their lane, and I'll make sure mine stay in ours, without causing any problems for either clan until this matter of a potential alliance is either confirmed or completely dismissed."

"Seems a great idea to me," Sokka said, nodding.

"Good to know you agree to these terms," Azula replied. "Continue this way, and your pet project might have a better chance at succeeding. Anyway, feel free to take your leave first."

"As you'd have it," he said.

She didn't ignore that he started walking backwards… while allowing his eyes to take in her body shape in a rather careless, lecherous manner. Her blood burned underneath her skin… and not quite because of outrage. She knew those looks… she hoped he knew them too, for she had been casting them in his direction from the moment she had seen him. Was he merely taking her in as best he could right now, in fear they might never meet again? If so…

When he turned, her eyes strayed towards his rear, settling there, admiring their perfect curves until the shroud of darkness hid his whole body away from her own, lascivious gaze. Azula smiled, despite herself, once he was gone, and once she suspected the many weapons aimed towards the location of their conversation had been withdrawn and put aside. His business proposal had been slightly more interesting than she had expected, and suddenly she wasn't quite so determined to take down the Kawakami completely as she had been before… but she would test his resolve further soon. Just how far was he willing to go to score this alliance with the Homura clan…?

"You truly believe this is worth pursuing?" Ozai asked, frowning, once Azula met with him in private on the next morning. "An alliance, with the Kawakami clan?"

"For the sake of the tebori, it may be," said Azula, breathing out slowly. "I understand your reluctance, but it is true that allying with a clan, however lesser it may be, could bring advantages in the long run. We could, presumably, manipulate the Kawakami freely if this alliance is arranged. They'll expect to gain a rise in power, by joining forces with us…"

"Not knowing we're the ones assimilating them, without their awareness?" Ozai finished. Azula shrugged.

"It's a possibility. Though Hakoda Kawakami might be wiser than we expected," Azula conceded. "He might not make it easy for the alliance to be corrupted for our benefit, but it's probably safer to have the Kawakami close by if we intend to ensure their growth doesn't go out of control after the events following the earthquake."

"It's a dangerous game… and unfortunately, we cannot simply poach the tebori artist from them, considering it's the heir," said Ozai, rolling his eyes. "The others might be fair game, but I question he would ever betray his people."

"He likened himself with a wolf," Azula said, hoping the blood wouldn't rush to her cheeks as she remembered the impossibly alluring tattoos decorating that man's powerful body. "Said he protected his pack. So… yes, corrupting him may not be easy."

"You might as well try," Ozai said. "Every man has a price, as far as I'm aware. If we can plant discord within their ranks, it'll serve for our benefit too. So… perhaps the alliance isn't the worst idea. Though you'll have to assess if the risks outweigh the possible benefits, Azula: in this case, we've lived fine without tattoos for the last years. If the potential improvements for our circumstances aren't considerable, I wouldn't go forth with this venture."

"I agree, completely," Azula said, nodding curtly. "I shall let you know what the test's results are."

"Very well," Ozai nodded, dismissing Azula.

Her next step was simple enough to perform, once she returned to her office: she searched through her database quickly, tracking down the cellphone store where Sokka had bought his burner. After a quick call, she had the number, and had ordered a phone of her own. It might be awfully inconvenient, she couldn't deny it, having a single phone to communicate with a single person… but once the messenger she sent to retrieve the package had returned with her new device, her heart was racing with excitement.

Sokka didn't think it was a good idea to sit at his parlor all day, waiting for a message to arrive, and yet that was exactly what he did. Business was slow now – who would prioritize getting a tattoo after the earthquake's devastation, really? – but he left the open sign on the door, despite knowing he'd have to turn it around as soon as Azula's chosen Homura arrived. Sokka had gone through his designs carefully, making sure to evoke the images he'd need to keep in mind, the technique, the patience… he was ready. He could do this, especially when the rise of his clan might as well depend on his performance now.

The phone rang with its new, custom beat – he had been bored enough to scour through the libraries of the device until he found one that suited him. He opened the message quickly, and smiled upon reading Azula's curt, blunt message: Send the address now.

He decided to save the number immediately, though he hesitated at which name to give the contact. Obviously, using her real name was beside the question… he smirked upon jotting down 'My Flame', and he wondered if she'd approve of it. He thought she'd liked what she'd seen yesterday… perhaps he should try to flirt some more and see if that would get them somewhere. If the alliance failed, well… sleeping with the enemy could make this whole ordeal worthwhile, regardless.

He answered the message just as directly, hoping to appear professional despite his previous, shameless attitude while picking her contact name. He wondered, briefly, if she had given him a nickname of her own… would it be an embarrassing one? Or also a teasing, flirty one? He'd love it if it were the latter…

After around fifteen minutes, the sound of a motorbike alerted him that someone was approaching. The area had been quite silent lately, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. Still, it was an extra layer of privacy that would enable him to tattoo a Homura without worrying about prying eyes, misunderstandings or rushed judgments…

The bike stopped right at before the parlor, and the rider climbed off. Sokka could see the person's silhouette through the darkened glass panels of his parlor… and he frowned lightly upon noticing the outfit wrapped around an undoubtably female body appeared to be of leather. Much like Azula's chosen attire from the previous night.

His heart nearly stopped before she pushed the door open while removing the bike's helmet: his jaw dropped, for she had come alone. She hadn't brought anyone. Which meant…

"W-wait…" he chortled, jumping off the chair he'd been sitting at. Azula slid a hand over her hair, taming it again after the previous bike ride.

"Do you have other customers? Why do I have to wait?" she asked, with a light grin.

He couldn't seem to snap out of his disbelieving amazement. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, puzzled, utterly confused… here he had been, pondering how to coax her into a new date, and she had come to him of her own volition?

"I… I'm a bit surprised, is all. You want me to tattoo you?" he asked.

"Is it the Kawakami don't tattoo their women?" Azula asked. Sokka swallowed.

"The Kawakami do a lot of things different from the Homura. I mean… my mom and my sister are part of the group, but they're not really part of the operations? Not the big ones? If that makes sense, though I've tattooed my sister's arms because she asked a few months ago… b-but that's not it!" Sokka said, looking at her with uncertainty. "You're sure you want to do this? I thought you didn't trust me."

"And why would I trust you to tattoo one of my men without making sure, personally, that you can handle the job?" Azula smirked, stepping closer. "Are you afraid of something?"

"I… no, not at all. Just… I really expected to tattoo a guy," Sokka smiled, biting his lip. "Not complaining, though, not complaining. But… well, you do realize, like I told you, this will be a long process, depending on what you want? You might have to come back a few times to get the whole thing finished, unless you wanted something small…?"

"Do I look like someone who would have a small venture in mind?" Azula asked, amused. Sokka swallowed hard but grinned. "I have an idea in mind, yes: a dragon, naturally. In a field of flames."

"Oh. Heh, well, that can be done, for sure," Sokka said, nodding positively. "How big? A sleeve, or…?"

"Hmm…" Azula tapped her chin, in deep thought as Sokka stepped towards the door: he spun the "Open" sign upon itself, and Azula smirked for it. She had him for herself now, then… all his attention would be on her body. Whatever the result might be, she couldn't quite help but rejoice in that awareness. "I think I want something quite dynamic, actually."

"Just how dynamic?" Sokka asked, curious, as he turned towards her again.

"I want this dragon across my back… shifting across it, as it may?" Azula said. Sokka raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he made his way to his desk.

"Let's see…" he said, quickly drawing the outline of a female body on a free sheet of paper.

Azula watched with curiosity as he jotted down lines expertly. She rested her body weight against the desk, and Sokka continued to sketch while keenly aware of her closeness, as well as her gaze upon him.

"How's this?" he asked. Azula hummed as she studied the design.

"Not enough, actually," she said. Sokka bit his lip. "Not that it's wrong, just… I'm looking for something slightly more complicated. Like… ah, how about if the dragon's tail starts at the base of my nake, but the body… wraps around mine? I mean, if it hugs my flank, then goes across my front…?"

"U-uh… wow," Sokka blinked blankly, but he attempted another sketch… this time of the front of her body. He hesitated at drawing her breasts, at which Azula smirked knowingly. "Well, um… sorry to be bold, but how big exactly are they?"

"Need that much information for a full design?" she asked. He grinned guiltily.

"Alright, let's just say… the dragon's body goes over your ribcage, on either side?" he said. "And below your breasts…?"

"Hmm. I guess tattooing them could be tricky," Azula reasoned, with a voice that attempted to convey an innocence she clearly lacked. Sokka bit his lip but smirked.

"I'll be blunt: I've never done that before," he laughed softly. "I figured it'd be more comfortable if it's just… around them? But you're the boss right now. You tell me."

"Hmm? So Kawakami women don't get tebori that often?" Azula asked, smirking.

"Not quite?" Sokka grinned awkwardly. "I'm not too popular yet anyways, I've only tattooed my sister with a few small designs, and… well, it is Japan, tattoos are usually frowned upon. Most my latest customers have been teenage nerds trying to look intimidating before starting college?"

"Such upstanding customers for the Kawakami heir," Azula said mockingly. Sokka snorted and laughed, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle as he lowered his head. Strangely bashful, and just so, incredibly charming…

"See why I want to tattoo your goons now?" he said. "Though… got to say, I'm not sure any of my next customers will be much to write home about after you."

"Intended to write about me, did you?" Azula smirked. "Would your family appreciate hearing about the outlandish challenges I keep forcing upon you?"

"Eh… my dad would laugh a lot," Sokka chuckled, as he continued to doodle across his new sketches. "Though you'd better be careful, eh? Don't be too impressive, or he'll start pondering other ways to establish an alliance between our clans…"

"Other ways? Such as?" Azula asked, deliberately playing dumb. Sokka stopped sketching, snorting before shooting her a meaningful stare. "What?"

"You're way too smart not to know what," he said, simply. She smirked.

"Can't say my father would agree with that notion," she said.

"Exactly. So… you know, better for us not to get any hopes up, right?" he said, with a nonchalant shrug as he returned to his design.

"Hopes? You'd actually hope for it? How ambitious of you…" Azula said, shaking her head reproachfully.

"Might not be a matter of ambition, Homura Princess…" he whispered. She shivered upon hearing him speak that nickname. "There's other reasons to marry someone besides social advancement…"

"Hmm? And what other reason could you possibly have to marry me?" she asked. Sokka smiled slowly and tapped his sketch.

"How's this one?" he asked.

Azula clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shooting him a long, meaningful, stare before turning to the paper.

"Cowardice doesn't befit you…" she said, though she froze upon glimpsing the new design: the dragon's body would slither across her collarbone and shoulders, dipping down the valley of her breasts, hugging the outline of the right before dipping down to her belly and rising again to hug the left before scurrying towards the back.

"I'm thinking… do you want claws?" he said. "Could be I could fit them… over here? Above your breasts…?"

Azula shivered at the suggestion, as he drew the lines to depict what he meant. Well, curses, she had thought he was evading the question, but he might have just intended to answer it with his artwork instead…

"It'll loop across your abdomen a couple more times, I think? And then it goes to the back," Sokka said, gesturing at the initial artwork. "Menacing snarling dragon, right? Any guy who gets you naked will think twice before doing anything out of bounds this way…"

"Sounds like a plan," Azula smirked. "You'll be the first victim of the dragon, if so, because you'll be drawing it. You'll have to tell me if it's truly that daunting."

"I'll make it as scary as I can," Sokka smiled. "So… is this good? Or do you want another attempt?"

"I… think I'd like to see the idea in a much more solid way before pushing through with this design," Azula said, biting her lip. "Do you make stencils? Or…"

"Not quite stencils, I usually draw an outline on the body," Sokka explained. "The initial outline, then I go forward with the inking of the outline, but… it's true it's probably better if you have an initial glimpse of what I've got in mind. You, uh… are comfortable with letting me doodle a mean dragon over your naked body?"

"Comfortable?" Azula repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Why… not quite. Not while we're in plain view of the street, despite those darkened glass panes of yours…"

"I wouldn't have worked with you up here," Sokka laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. Step into my basement, why don't you?"

"You'd better not have a full regiment of nasty Kawakami goons down there, ready to eviscerate me…" Azula said, raising her head haughtily as she followed Sokka to the stairs.

He laughed again at her words as he opened the door that led to the basement, and she found she was growing quite fond of that sound… at least, her stirring lower belly was. Surely there wouldn't be a regiment of Kawakami down there, but she certainly hoped the only Kawakami within the area would be willing to do something other than just tattooing, once they were in private…

It wasn't every day she found herself so attracted by a man, let alone was it every day that she felt the urge to act upon it, let alone so boldly. Her plans for the design were a most deliberate, reckless attempt to seduce him… and she sure hoped it worked. So far, it looked like it would, but she couldn't take anything for granted…

The study downstairs was rather orderly, once Sokka flipped the light switch and revealed it before Azula's gaze. The shelves, the tattooing implements sitting in their right cases, the already-mixed inks, as well as the ingredients to mix new ones… all of it appeared angled towards the modern tattoo chair, out of place among so many traditional tools. Azula finally reached the last step, taking in the location in full, but her gaze inevitably fell upon the chair: leather, adjustable, hopefully comfortable and stable. Good.

"Alright, then… we won't be working with the proper needles yet. A painless process to begin with… then comes the true challenge," Sokka said, smiling at her. "So… mind disrobing for me, Homura Princess?"

That he dared wink at her should have been outrageous… but her whole body felt like melting chocolate because of it. Her heart skipped a beat most delightfully, and she smiled before loosening her jacket first. Sokka smiled at her, making his way to his shelves to collect the tools with which he'd start the sketches of the outline, but he dared glance at Azula again as she clasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head with one smooth movement: her pelvis tucked in lightly over the movement, her ribcage highlighted, as well as her abdomen's lean muscles. She got plenty of exercise, he realized, despite she kept such tight surveillance of the whole city… She was a true wonder, Sokka thought, snatching three different skin markers from his collection, and he didn't tear his eyes off her… not even when she tugged her belt loose and pushed down her trousers.

"W-woah…" he said, unable to hold back his smile. Azula blinked blankly in his direction. "Not that I don't appreciate those fine legs of yours… but I didn't sketch for anything in your lower body"

"You mentioned claws…" Azula said, casually. "I thought, curiously, that you probably could have the dragon's front paws over… here?"

She turned, deliberately squeezing her ass cheeks together while trailing her hands suggestively over them. Sokka's eyes damn near bulged, and he swallowed dryly as Azula gazed at him inquisitively.

"Y-you… have amazing ideas," he finally decided. Azula's knowing grin spread widely over her face.

"Thought you might appreciate that one," she said, reaching up her back to tug loose her bra.

Sokka damn near cursed himself as he tore his gaze away from her back: fool. He couldn't just tell her to turn so he could see her better. No matter if the Homura Princess had come here for many purposes beyond just getting a tattoo, he couldn't succumb to such stupid impulses. He had to play by her rules, and even if he did, he might wind up landing himself in a world of trouble. If he dared touch her, even if with her consent, she could easily turn things around and use that to her advantage to destroy the alliance before it was even formed… ugh, he kind of wanted to do it despite that risk, but he knew he needed to be cautious, to think things through. And wanting to see her breasts wasn't at all the cautious way to proceed…

But he'd see them anyway, he knew, as he heard her walking towards the chair. She snapped her tongue somewhat dismissively, and Sokka released a breath before turning to find her back to him again… she was fully naked now. No underwear, no socks, nothing. Only her ponytail remained in place, though after she had disrobed, it appeared to be falling loose: she noticed, and undid it quickly. Her hair fell in an elegant curtain across the back he'd soon tattoo, just before she pulled it together again and redid the ponytail. With her arms raised, he could see the outline of her breasts and… dammit! He had to stop!

Though it was already far too late to reel back the erection that had been growing inevitably, ever since she had first climbed off that bike. It wasn't like she was the first woman he'd seen driving one, but curses, she was sensual even in that sense. It was as though everything he had ever found desirable in a woman had been thrown together in one, extraordinary package, and now she was naked before him. Naked, and flaunting her body, as per the light slant of her hips…

"How many sweaty, disgusting fools have climbed atop this chair?" Azula asked, glancing at him over her shoulder once she had finished composing her ponytail.

"N-not that many…" Sokka said, swallowing hard. "But… I clean it every time! I do! Want me to clean it again? Because I can do it, if you're uncomfortable…"

"You'd better do it. I am uncomfortable," Azula smirked, stepping away from the chair… and again, deliberately doing so by keeping her back towards him. Sokka chewed on his cheeks as he tried to control himself: she really was going to drive him mad, at this rate.

He found his cleaning supplies, the strongest of them, and got to work. Azula was enjoying a thorough inspection of his wares in the mean time, walking barefooted – if she was so concerned with hygiene, it seemed odd she would do that when she, for one thing, didn't even need to loosen up her shoes for a tattoo that would only reach her rear… – as she waited for him to finish cleaning the chair from any lingering residues of any kind.

"Alright… I think you can do it now," Sokka smiled, climbing off the chair as he shifted the adjustable settings: it became a perfect bed, better for their purposes, he hoped.

Of course, Azula would only climb it once he was putting away his cleaning implements, and he didn't even let his damn groin protest over that: he focused on his task, giving Azula enough time to relax on the bed… before turning towards her, collecting his markers again.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess Homura… but you'll need to turn over many times while we do this," he said, his professional voice blatantly insincere.

"Oh, dear. I guess I shall have no choice," Azula said, dramatically. He smirked.

"Shall we, then?" he said, pulling his own chair close so he could start the design.

Azula nodded awkwardly, facedown as she was.

"Go ahead," she whispered, and Sokka raised his first marker.

She had decided the tail should begin at her nape, so he began there: he'd go slowly, gradually, sketching lines of the dragon's contour and body until he reached the head, which would occupy her middle-to-lower back, much like his own tattooed wolf did – he couldn't help but think she hoped to mirror his design with her own, and it was quite a flattering gesture. He dragged the marker along expertly for the first curves of the dragon's shape, tracing it all the way until it reached Azula's right armpit, and then he returned to the beginning, depicting the spikes that should accompany the dragon's body. Then he returned one more time, to draw each scale perfectly carefully, and wherever it should be visible, the dragon's underbelly, with another marker.

And with that, it was time for her to turn around. Sokka released a breath before speaking his thoughts:

"I'll be going over the front now."

"Ah… right," Azula said, smiling as she obeyed, impossibly slowly.

Sokka swallowed dryly, and she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did, a rather masculine, sensual gesture she was entranced by… but she supposed he was far more taken with her own, fully bare body, once she was lying on her back, arms raised so he could patch the dragon outline with the new share of art he'd decorate her body with.

"Is this okay?" she asked, innocently. Sokka jumped, as though he had been about to fall off his chair… his eyes, of course, most unprofessionally focused on her bare breasts. "Or would you rather I take up some other position?"

"N-no, no, this is… this is good," he said, with a nervous grin, as he raised his marker again. Azula, though, clicked her tongue teasingly.

"You sure? You look… uncomfortable," she said. He snorted and laughed, touching her skin with the marker's tip again.

"I… am not uncomfortable. Not in a bad sense anyway," he said. "If anything… I'm probably enjoying the view way more than any tattoo artist has any right to. Excuse me for that, if you would, Princess Homura…"

"Should I truly excuse you… Prince Kawakami?" she teased him back. He laughed, though he continued to drag the marker over her collarbone.

Azula smiled, inevitably, delighted by his reactions… by his unwillingness to back down, too. He rose up to every challenge, and seemed quite willing to acknowledge the wild thoughts that were coursing through his mind. She wondered just how long it'd take before he bit the bait… she hoped he'd do it soon, too. She wasn't sure it was advisable for anyone to have wild sex after taking several needles to the skin at a rapid pace, anyway.

Because, yes, they were going to have wild sex, one way or another. She had no intentions of leaving this parlor today without a taste of the man she was being touched and intimately studied by.

He dragged her arms down when he needed them in another position, and then doodled a quick loop over her arm… only to ask her to turn again. Azula sighed but relented, feeling him dragging the marker over her back, relaxing under that soft, wet, localized sensation… and again, she had to turn, once he was drawing the dragon's body over her other arm. Azula complied, lying on her side now, watching him intently while not subtly squeezing her breasts together in this position. His eyes traveled there on occasion, and his cheeks would heat up whenever they did: she smiled each time, but he only continued to work… until it was time for the front again, and he asked her to lie down as he brought the dragon's body down through the valley between her breasts.

"I… may need to touch them," he said. Azula gasped in feigned astonishment, and he smirked. "Just thought I'd warn you, if you needed me to…"

"Oh, my. A man, touching my chest… unfathomable," she said, teasingly. Sokka laughed and shook his head as he started on the first curve that would hug the outline of Azula's breast.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, but more than that, the knowledge that he was absolutely looking forward to touching her. She waited, impatiently, her heart drumming in her chest…

And then it happened: fingers, catching her breast's underside, raising it gently as the marker trailed below it. She wasn't imagining the way those fingers felt her skin, certainly… he was fondling her lightly, and she was starting to think she'd leave quite the wet spot on his adjustable chair after today. This simply couldn't be so exciting…

"How's it feel?" he asked, teasingly. Azula hummed.

"Wet… and cold," she replied. Sokka snorted.

"The marker?" he asked.

"What else would you have meant to ask me about?" she said, closing her eyes carelessly.

He bit back another laugh: but curses, she was beautiful. Her eyelashes, the perfect makeup applied across them, her straight nose, her full lips, her feminine, yet strong chin… He damn near distracted himself with the urge of covering her with kisses, rather than with a tattoo's initial design. He had to find a more productive way to do this, he thought to himself, and yet…

She had to turn again, as the dragon's body would loop around her back, and then return to her front. Sokka erased the unnecessary portions by dabbing alcohol on a cotton ball and wiping off the marker's previous lines. The cold liquid made Azula shiver… or she took advantage of it to deliberately shift sensually against the chair, Sokka didn't know which it was. She had hiked up her rear unnecessarily this time, and his eyes kept escaping southwards to gaze at those perfectly circular mounds, barely resisting the urge to fondle them…

But he could lightly fondle her next breast now, and so he did, once she turned again. Azula was the picture of helplessness, arms raised over her head, eyes closed, soft purrs slipping from her throat…

Oh. Oh hell, she was moments away from moaning, and he sure as heck wanted to hear that.

In a most bold, careless manner, he brushed her nipple with his thumb: Azula moaned indeed, and Sokka's pulsating erection begged for him to cut it out. If he was going to do filthy things to her, he'd better stop playing around already… but no, he couldn't. He had to finish this. The claws now, the claws…

"I'm going to have to touch them again…" he said. She bit her lip.

"M-must you…?" she asked, her voice suggestive and playful. He smiled.

"The claws will be right here… I need a proper view of the skin," he said, tapping her upper breast. Azula hummed.

"That high…?" she asked. "I thought it'd be… more over here?"

She led his fingers lower… and they brushed her nipple again. Another moan, and she opened her eyes to gaze at him wantonly as he smiled knowingly.

"It… might not be anatomically correct," he said. She bit her lip.

"What a conundrum, isn't it?" she whispered.

"And it… could hurt," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Azula smiled.

"You think a Homura doesn't know how to handle pain?" she asked. "We literally burn our bodies to prove our worth, when need be…"

"You haven't burned yours, I see," Sokka whispered, carelessly dragging his hand down her flank. Azula moaned again. "Unless… it's somewhere else?"

"I thought you'd have seen me… completely by now," Azula smiled, moaning suggestively again once his hand trailed over her thigh.

"Not completely, I admit…" Sokka whispered, leaning closer to her… just as his fingers slipped between her legs.

Azula's moan was no longer intentionally erotic: she gasped and clenched up, and Sokka hummed as his fingers dipped into her hot wetness. Her chest started to heave, and he smirked for it, guiding his marker over the rising and falling breasts to decorate them with the outline of the dragon's claws.

"Hmm… doesn't feel burned, no. If anything… quite the opposite," he smiled. Azula whimpered, lightly thrusting her body towards him. "Hmm? Oh, is this too invasive?"

"Y-yes… it is…" she smiled, closing her eyes as she thrusted again. "That's… Homura territory, you shameless Kawakami…"

"Oh, no… I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?" he said, smirking as he finished the details of the first claw, and moved to mark the second one. "I suppose I'll have to do extra work here now, won't I? Otherwise, you'll never forgive my transgression… and there'll be no alliance."

"That's… that's right," Azula moaned: his fingers were dabbing into her opening, the thumb rubbing her clit in the sweetest manner. "Do good… and… and you'll be free to enter Homura territory at will…"

"Hmm… sounds like the best deal ever," Sokka whispered, finishing the fourth claw, and moving to depicting scales now – it was, admittedly, quite difficult to focus on the art when most his body was focusing on his hand's actions upon Azula's lower body instead.

"T-then… do right by me… oh, do right by me, Sokka…" she moaned, thrusting harder, her chest still heaving terribly sensually: he wanted to see those breasts bouncing as she rode his shaft, they were more than large enough for that…

Oh, he was being so unprofessional, his master would have his hide if only he knew… and yet the woman underneath him was hotter than her last name, than everything her fire clan stood for. He couldn't be above his damn base desires… not when they were hidden away from the world in this basement, safely alone, free to be intimate, to desecrate his sacred working place… he wanted to. He absolutely wanted to.

"Alright… alright, then," he said, smirking as his face hovered right above hers.

Azula's lips parted, and she seemed to be about to catch his lips with her own… but he pulled away, to her chagrin. Where the hell did he think he was going…?

She got the answer upon sensing a sudden, wet, warm pressure around her nipple: his breath brushed against it just before he sucked for the first time, and Azula didn't hold back her loud cries of passion. Oh, he was the worst, the absolute worst, and she just loved it. She was perfectly used to seducing men whenever she felt like it, to being the object of someone's desire, for she had been that for many of her father's henchmen over the years… but she always had the urge to enforce her authority, her strength, her control and superiority. This time… oh, this time she didn't even want to. Not with a man who was fingering her most recklessly, sucking on her breast persistently before switching to the other.

"T-the… t-the marker's ink won't… c-come off, will it…?" Azula moaned, as Sokka's strong body loomed closer to hers.

"No… and if it does, I'll do it again," he smiled, speaking between loud suctions of her nipple. He was a shameless bastard, truly… and she wanted more of that. So much more of that…

"Will you… wind up devouring my breasts again… if that happens?" Azula asked.

"Would you like that…?" he moaned against her chest.

He was covering her breasts in light nibbling as he pointedly avoided the places he had traced with his marker. Oh, he would've loved to cover her chest with kisses, but at risk of intaking chemicals he shouldn't, he'd have to hold back until her full set was done… ah, by then, once she was fully rested and recovered, she would be even more sensual than she already was, with her soul's dragon bearing its fangs, threatening any and all unwanted menaces… but he had wolves that could fight the dragon, just as well. They would clash and collide, and sleep together as many times as she allowed it… he sure hoped it'd be about a thousand times. Just this much was as exciting as could be…

"Yes… yes I would, I… don't stop… don't stop…" Azula moaned, thrusting lightly against his hand. "Ah! D-don't, please, don't…!"

Her urgency compelled him to drill into her with his fingers, going harder than before: his other hand held her wrists, which she had helpfully raised over her head. She was completely at his mercy, and the powerlessness appeared to turn her on so badly she couldn't stand it. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hand, and that thumb ever prodding and exploring her sensitive clit, Azula came undone with loud cries. Sokka smirked as he returned to kissing and sucking her nipple, chuckling maliciously as he continued driving into her, harder, rougher, without any restraint. Azula trembled on the chair, her voice failing her when the second peak arrived soon after the first, tearing through her violently, so much her body seemed to shatter… and yet it didn't. And perhaps because it didn't, her wicked lover had decided to keep going, bringing her to the brink one more time as she screamed, completely losing control while writhing under his hand.

Sokka slowed at the third peak, laughing deviously as his lips hovered over her left breast. She was sweating now, and even that was exciting as hell. Nothing about her could be unappealing, as far as he could tell…

He raised his head slowly, his mischievous smirk found by her misty gaze as she shivered violently still, her legs spread, her lips parted.

"Y-you… y-you just…" she said, and he raised an eyebrow cockily.

"Want me to do that again?" he asked. "Got a few more tricks up my sleeve, but if you want more…"

"You're… mad," she said, furthering his amusement. "Doing this… to your tattoo customer…"

"It's a first for me, if you really want to know," he chuckled. "Like I said… most my customers aren't exactly my type."

"And I am?" Azula smiled, despite the heat of the situation was still overwhelming for her.

"You? I think you've completely torn down every standard I thought I had… and rewritten them all on your own," Sokka whispered, rising until his face was level with hers. "If this makes our alliance impossible… well, woops. I'll have to tell my dad I mucked it up. But damn, I… I really want to have sex with you."

"Y-you… you perverted man," Azula smiled, closing her eyes in obvious delight. Sokka snickered.

"Don't like perverts much, do you…?" he asked, prodding her nose with his own.

"Not usually, no," she said. "But… you're on a league of your own, looks like."

"I'm worse than the others?" Sokka smirked.

"Yeah… because you're good at this, they aren't," Azula smiled. Sokka laughed, pressing his brow to hers just before diving for a kiss…

But her hand darted to his chest and clasped it hard, just as his upper lip touched hers, and she forced him to climb the chair by flipping them around: it was him below her suddenly, and she was the one above, chest still heaving, face still flushed, hair falling out of that ponytail again… but this time she didn't seem to mind that much.

"Az-…" he said, but her fingers landed on his lips.

"I… will return the favor," she smiled, dragging her fingers down to his shirt – he was wearing a perfectly casual outfit today, though the long sleeves prevented her from seeing the beautiful tattoos he sported over his arms.

She dragged herself down his body, pushing his shirt off in an urgent hurry – Sokka intended to help her tug it off but it was no use when Azula stopped once the shirt was at his neck's level: his chest and abdomen were fully exposed, and she needed to devour them at haste.

Sokka snorted, laughing as he struggled to pull off the shirt in the awkward situation she had left him in, with his elbows awkwardly stuck while only his lower jaw had slid under the shirt's neck.

"You… you're into bondage, are you?" he laughed. Azula, busy lavishing his strong chest with long, sucking kisses, only moaned in response. "Oh, hell, that's good…"

Her hands didn't help him with his upper body's struggle: instead they were undoing his belt, shoving off his trousers forcefully, and as her teeth nibbled teasingly down his defined abs – they were just as delightful as she had thought yesterday, damn him – she continued to move south until she reached his underwear-clad groin. Sokka gasped when her lips pressed a kiss over the fabric at first, and he groaned once she cupped his testicles with one hand, the other massaging his manhood while her lips continued to teasingly unravel his full girth: she wore lipstick, didn't she? She was going to stain his underwear with it? Oh, that should be a completely ridiculous thought and yet his very hard cock seemed more erect because of it.

"Y-you sure love… to tease a man," Sokka growled, finally tossing his shirt aside, and Azula snickered as she tugged the hem of his boxers.

"Be… rough," Azula advised him. Sokka smirked. "Not to the point of killing me, of course, but… use my mouth as you please. Alright?"

"You don't know restraint of any sort, do you…?" he asked, and Azula's smile reflected his own.

"We're yakuza, aren't we? We don't play nice and sweet," she said, teasingly, as she tugged the garment down, enough to expose his large erection. She licked her lips. "My, my, someone's enjoying himself…"

"Mind you… this is the best tattoo session I've ever had, so yes, I am," Sokka chuckled. Azula smirked and winked at him.

"It's about to get better," she said.

She leaned down, engulfing his cock with her mouth in one quick motion: Sokka cried out, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair's headrest, for Azula had taken him in deeply enough for his tip to press against the roof of her mouth. She didn't ease up in the least, bobbing her head back and forth while seeking his hand… placing it on her hair. She had asked for it rough, hadn't she? Sokka gritted his teeth and hoped she wouldn't change her mind.

His fingers dug into her hair as he started thrusting upwards: to his surprise, his thrusting compelled her to moan, in time with his own groans: one of her hands toyed with his ball sack, the other snaked upwards, touching all those strong, tense muscles that had charmed her since that day in the park. She wanted him to break her if he wished, to show her just how strong he was, how much pleasure he could provide a woman… and he sure had showed her plenty before, but she was greedy enough to want more. She sucked him eagerly, thoroughly, basking in every perfect ridge of his body, whether related to his pulsating manhood or his strong abs… and then he grew more savage, thrusting harder, faster, and she focused exclusively on the cock inside her mouth, doing her best not to choke, to continue breathing through her mouth, to enjoy his powerful thrusting as his hands messed her hair and kept her in place…

"I'm… I'm close… I'm close, hell, I'm gonna…!" he gasped, thrusting harder, more urgently: Azula helped by sucking in a quick, violent rhythm, and suddenly a hot liquid sprayed the back of her throat.

Oh, it tasted terribly and yet she relished in receiving it. She laughed as she sucked some more, aiding the still-thrusting Sokka to find his ultimate release, and that he did: he soon flopped on the chair, breathing heavily, his arms falling to the side as his eyes rolled closed.

"You… are something else, Princess Homura…" he whispered.

"Hmm, you are wild when you want to be… I like that, Prince Kawakami," Azula announced, smirking as she pressed soft kisses to the side of his manhood. Sokka chuckled and sighed in bliss, relishing in the continuous oral pleasure she offered him.

"I… want to return the favor too," he said, smiling. "I bet you taste amazing…"

"Hmm, you gross pervert… wanting to taste and smell my privates, what has the world come to?" she said, before taking a deep breath and licking his flaccid cock thoroughly, enough for it to twitch gently as she smirked. "Oh, wait a second…"

Sokka laughed, sitting up to reach for her and tug her towards him. Azula relented despite herself, sighing upon being taken away from the most delightful cock she had ever been acquainted with. His hands fell right to her rear, cupping each cheek, and Azula hummed before grinding her bare body against his.

"Want something?" she asked, casually.

"You," he said, and his hand reached up to fist her hair before he pressed a powerful, open-mouthed kiss to her lips.

Azula moaned, surrendering to the kiss quickly: his invasive tongue danced and twirled around hers, and her heart raced faster and faster as it did. It felt so good to kiss him, just as good as she had hoped it would, as she allowed him to claim her thoroughly for himself… and no doubt, it had to feel good for him too, considering he couldn't seem to stop – he only let her catch her breath for a second before nibbling on her lower lip, or trailing his tongue across her mouth, a smooth battering ram demanding access it was granted instantly: she really liked this overwhelming feeling, as his hands fondled her every curve, at first her ass, slowly her waist, then her breasts again…

"I'm going to eat you," he whispered. She moaned against his lips.

"Thought you already were…" she said. Sokka snickered before slipping off the chair, only to flip their positions anew.

It was he who sat at the edge of the chair now, balancing himself skillfully while Azula, boldly, knowingly and shamelessly, wrapped her legs around his neck and urged him to dive into her perfectly waxed core: with the same skill as with his hands before, Sokka toyed with her clit and unraveled, quite quickly, the places she needed his touch most in, by the urgency of her moans, to the point of near becoming screams. She wouldn't stop urging him onwards, spurring him to continue, whispering many surprisingly dirty phrases in the process. Sokka couldn't contain occasional laughs upon hearing those, and when he gazed up to look at his delightful lover, she'd meet his eyes just the same, her lips parted as though waiting for his to claim them anew…

Oh, he was in real trouble if he kept on in this path. No doubt he wasn't supposed to be having sex with Ozai Homura's prized golden daughter… but more than that, he had a feeling he wouldn't have enough with a single outing. And damn, he hoped neither would she.

He needed to make sure she wouldn't have enough, of course: and as her not-so-dormant excitement rose anew, while Sokka's tongue traveled mischievously across her wet folds, a new peak neared and Azula had half a mind to give herself to it completely…

"Y-you should… ah – you should come here, and… and go for it. S-Sokka… Sokka…"

Ah, she wanted him to go inside her already? He was hard enough to try… but he wanted her to ask again. He wanted her to beg, for some twisted, ridiculous reason…

"Please…? Sokka, I can't hold it… I-I'm going to…!" she said: the words surprised him, for he hadn't expected she'd be so close.

But as irresponsible as it might be to disregard her prior request, he refused to let her lose a perfectly good orgasm if he eased up now. So he didn't slow down, and instead devoured her even more ravenously… and he was rewarded by an onslaught of sex juices that he could develop an addiction for, from that day forward. He groaned happily, caressing her thighs erotically, and Azula whimpered in a sensual way as she flopped, helpless, on the chair.

"You… you kept going… when I told you to fuck me…" she said. He had still been face-first up her core, but he pulled away to glance at her somewhat apologetically.

"I wanted to tease you for a bit," he admitted. "B-but I just didn't think you were that close. When I realized you were, well… I didn't want your orgasm to be unfulfilling."

"You…" Azula whispered… and then a smile spread over her face. "You're good. Better than good."

"You think?" he smiled awkwardly.

"What kind of man… doesn't jump at the chance of putting his cock inside me as soon as I offer the chance?" Azula laughed. "But you… you'd rather make sure I have all the pleasure I can have. Do you realize what a rarity you are…?"

"Eh, I did suspect I was one of a kind," Sokka smirked, winking at Azula before leaning close to kiss her abdomen. "Glad I didn't fuck up, I thought I might have…"

"You were amazing," Azula decided, releasing him from her grip.

"You're even more amazing," he whispered as he kissed his way up to her collarbone, avoiding the lines his marker had trailed over her body. Azula moaned and caressed his back.

"How do you want… to do this?" she asked.

"Four orgasms… and you still want more," Sokka smirked. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. That's why I want more," Azula smiled. "Well? Any special requests…?"

"Ride me," he asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Azula groaned and kissed him harder, urging him to switch with her again on the chair.

"You want me to like you more and more… don't you? Surrendering control to me…" Azula smiled, nibbling on his lip as she pressed him down on the chair while straddling his hips. "And the weirdest part is… I don't mind it much, when you're in control. Most other men are just…"

"No good?" Sokka smirked arrogantly. Azula huffed.

"More than a little full of themselves," she declared. Sokka snickered. "They assume they're good even before they've brought me to the brink the first time… it makes no sense, does it? Pretending you're good at sex without any basis…"

"Might be they're just no good for you…" Sokka suggested, kissing her jawline softly. "Might be, and this is just a wild guess… that you're better off with someone who takes his time to figure out where you want your clit to be prodded?"

"Hmm… yes," Azula moaned, pressing her chest to his. Sokka snickered. "Someone who likes to do naughty things when he's supposed to be a very professional tattoo artist…"

"Well, excuse me for my shamelessness," Sokka whispered, clamping his hands at either of her ass cheeks. Azula moaned again for it. "I'm a work in progress, clearly…"

"Shame on you…" Azula said, swaying her body against him. "Whatever shall I do? Will all our sessions turn out like this, I wonder?"

"Would that be so bad?" Sokka smiled. Azula bit her lip and grinned too.

"No. Definitely not," she laughed, kissing him and sliding into position.

With as many orgasms as she had enjoyed so far, it was only natural that Azula would fit Sokka's sizeable manhood without so much as flinching: he stretched her sensitive walls in a marvelous way, and she arched her body forward over the pleasure. Sokka grinned lecherously, playfully toying with her nipples, and Azula's moans only grew louder and more lustful because of it. She wanted everything he could give her, without holding back…

"You feel… so damn good," he laughed, with that charming smile she had been taken by from the moment she had first seen it. Azula purred again, thrusting forward and causing him to gasp. "A-Azula…"

"You feel good… inside me, too," she smirked, her long nails scraping his shoulders as she braced herself for thrusting again.

She took to a steady rhythm, one Sokka followed fit with: his eyes remained utterly entranced by the bouncing breasts before him, which enticed him to grope and fondle them before long. Azula's string of moans continued as she thrusted harder, recklessly chasing further excitement as Sokka's caresses only aided her in that particular pursuit: she would sway her body sensually, grinding her pelvis into him, her clit brushing delightfully against his skin and prompting her to moan further.

He filled her so well, to the hilt, and she wanted nothing but to keep him there forever. All this sex was probably not the best preamble for a tattoo, considering her skin would be extra sensitive because of it… but she thrived in the feeling of that cock tearing her walls down, smashing through her powerfully, threatening to wrestle control she found herself wanting to relinquish to him. If she couldn't keep going, she sure hoped he'd continue for her…

Sokka's hands had stayed on Azula's breasts, his palms almost tickled by the nipples that brushed against them. By now, though, his impulsive greedy lust overcame him: he sat up on the chair, tugging the controls expertly to recline the backrest. Comfortably sitting now, Sokka tugged her closer, making her spread her legs as far as she could while he penetrated her powerfully, covering her lips with eager kisses.

He had made his move at the right time, of course: Azula could barely hold herself back now, trembling as she felt a new peak looming closer. She was sure she hadn't ever reached so many climaxes in her life, and she absolutely relished in it, diving into Sokka's mouth with her tongue as her needy moans conveyed that she was at her limit. Yet again, Sokka only moved faster, harder, thrusting almost frantically inside her until Azula's long nails dug into his skin as she came with the strongest burst of pleasure yet. Oh, she couldn't even feel herself anymore, she was nothing but a huge blanket of aroused bliss, and he still wouldn't stop thrusting, still he kept going, rubbing his cock powerfully against the walls that tried to milk it. And milk it they would, but not until he was ready to relinquish his conquest: he had incredible self-restraint, capable of going forth with the wild tryst without losing himself to the swarms of pleasure. He'd give in eventually, yes he would, but he would last as long as he could, he would give her as many orgasms in a row as he could muster… and by her erotic moans against his mouth, their wild kissing interrupted as she struggled to catch her breath, he was probably close to getting her another one already.

Azula nearly screamed when the second peak came, and Sokka relished in her exposed neck, only to then move lower, to her chest anew. His voracious, lascivious kisses made it more than clear that he wanted her, all of her, and he'd stop at nothing to show it… yet, again, when Azula's third peak loomed closer – and she was seeing shapes dancing in her eyesight now, her whole body appeared to be both lighter than ever and heavier, somehow – Sokka couldn't hold back any longer: he released himself inside her just before her climax was triggered, and the shuddering inner walls around his cock squeezed him marvelously as he gave himself to her wildly, roughly, thrusting hard as his flesh slapped against hers, their sweaty bodies making magic wherever they might be joined.

He only stopped once her walls stopped shuddering too, and even then they lightly rocked together, grinding their bodies, kissing each other long, deep and slow, now that the surging passion had peaked. Azula clung to embracing him, comfortable by pressing her chest into his… and clearly Sokka wasn't about to complain for the delightful sensation of her nipples brushing his skin. His hands clasped her rear, keeping her in place, teasing her with light squeezes.

"That's… how a Kawakami tattoos his customers, then?" Azula asked between kisses, smiling teasingly. He snickered.

"Only the ones hotter than the earth's core, I'd say," he whispered, pressing his lips across her jawline.

"Hmm… so I got the premium package, did I?" Azula asked, fingers sliding into his hair. He chuckled again as he kissed his way up to her cheek.

"You're the sexiest woman that ever lived," he said, thrusting teasingly – despite he was flaccid now, they had remained in the same position, and the friction between their bodies still made Azula moan suggestively. "Say… we do need to work on the tattoo, don't we?"

"Mmm… maybe…" she moaned, sighing as she melted into his very physical teasing.

"You think you could, maybe… tell your people I'm a very devoted artist, and I've asked that we pull as many all-nighters as necessary to get the full tattoo done?" he said, smiling teasingly.

"Ah? You're asking me to stay with you?" Azula asked, amused. "For how long?"

"Until the job's done?" he said, stroking her hair. "I literally live on the second floor. We can just…"

"Go up there to rest. Have some more sex, then head back down here, work, have more sex on your fancy chair…?" Azula proposed, smirking. Sokka laughed. "You'd better do an amazing job with the tattoo, you know? Otherwise they'll all know I'm just sleeping with you."

"I'll do my best," he promised, kissing her lips softly again. "So? You'll… stay?"

"Oh, I don't know. What will I wear?" she asked, teasingly.

"On the most part… nothing," he smirked. "But if you really want to… I can lend you my things."

"Can you… at least tattoo me while shirtless?" she asked, biting her lip. "I'm sure having some really good eye-candy will make this whole process way smoother and much more enjoyable for me…"

"I wouldn't say no to anything that pleases an upstanding lady like yourself…" he replied, caressing her thigh suggestively. Azula smiled and kissed him again.

"This is quite the promising start for the Homura-Kawakami alliance," she said. Sokka snickered, stealing another kiss from her lips.

"I knew you could be persuaded to join us. With the right leverage," Sokka smirked. "Alright… I think I should order something for lunch now. We can keep going after, if you want? For now…"

"Keep going with what? Sex or tattoos?" Azula asked. Sokka snickered.

"With you, I'm not sure what's the difference," he said, and she smirked while biting her lip, a most sensual gesture he topped off with a kiss. "You're so beautiful…"

"You're as handsome as can be too, if you must know…" she smiled, resting her head upon his shoulder. "And such a handsome man will kidnap me for days… It's probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to me, and I don't even live a boring life."

"It's about to get even less boring," Sokka smiled, kissing her fiercely. "I can promise you that."

And while she usually didn't trust people, Azula believed him. She trusted him when he offered to take pictures of her body to document the whole process – she even posed suggestively for him, making him laugh and sending pleasant shivers through his groin. They ate together, once the food Sokka ordered arrived – noodles, hers were extra spicy, and she attempted to kiss him after, but he knew better than to let her, knowing it was a dangerous trap. It proved a helpful tool, for only this way could Sokka pull off the full outline of the tattoo without distracting himself… or rather, distracting himself too much.

Only the outline was done by the evening, and as Azula's spicy meal was no longer a cause for concern, Sokka picked up his new lover and carried her up to his room, in the upper floor. And there he had raunchy sex with her anew, seeking, as ever, to make her climax as many times as possible. They both fell asleep while wrapped together, limbs interlocked, lips breathing mere inches from the other.

And that was how their whole week proceeded: they would work in the mornings, take a break before lunch, work again afterwards, then stop for the day and do anything they wished with each other. And as strange as it was to basically live together for a week, by the time the finishing touches were done, Sokka was almost sorry to finish Azula's luxurious tattoo.

It was exactly as she had wanted it, with the dark, black dragon as good as watching her back, while hugging her body sensually. Flames burst around the creature's body, and where it could have been a threat, Sokka thought it was but a sign of how intensely hot his lover was. She sat on his chair, fully naked, as he tapped in more ink at her lower belly, and Azula sighed as she wished this could have lasted a little longer…

"You can always get another set of tattoos, if you want them," Sokka suggested, stealing a kiss from her lips. "I'll love to close up shop and not talk to anyone but you for a week again…"

"Hmm, don't tempt me," Azula smiled, pressing her brow to his. "Is it done now?"

"Just… one more thing," Sokka said. "Where should I put my signature?"

"Ah? You'll sign my body, will you? And here I thought this whole art piece was a way of saying you own me…" she smirked. Sokka laughed and shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure no one can ever claim they own you, fierce Homura Princess," he said, cupping her cheeks to kiss her lips softly. "Though, if you do see this whole tattoo as a way to brand you as mine, well…"

"I think it's sensual to see it that way," Azula whispered, kissing his cheek. "One day… you'll have to teach me. And then… I can tattoo you somewhere, and add my signature so everyone knows that you're branded as mine, too."

"Sounds perfect," Sokka smirked. "Tattoo marriage, of a sort?"

"It's fine by me," she laughed.

Sokka smiled and kissed her, before nudging her to lie down again. Where to set the signature…? The question had pestered him for at least two days, but he guessed Azula herself would be the one to decide the location…

"Should be on the back, right?" Azula said, biting her lip teasingly. "I guess… here?"

She tapped her coccyx, and Sokka smiled before rolling his eyes and getting to work. Azula laughed, knowing that, if anyone saw the suggestive signature, the nature of her relationship with the Kawakami heir would be more than obvious… oh, but why bother hiding it? As it was, they were clearly going to do this again, and again, and many more times…

She had been startled by the pain despite being prepared, the first time he had used the actual needles. By now it was almost familiar, the initial sting, the liquid sensation as the ink settled, the light swelling that settled across her skin. She was going to emerge from this tattoo parlor a whole different person, she knew, and once Sokka finished setting his signature, he covered the rest of her back with soft kisses, reaching all the way to her nape.

"You know… it's pretty late," he whispered, reaching her face. Azula smiled as he kissed the very curvature of her mouth's corner. "Maybe… you can stay one more night?"

"If you hadn't asked, I would've likely demanded to stay anyway," she smiled. Sokka chuckled. "I hope I look extra appealing to you now, lover…"

"I want to ravish you immediately even though the ink's not fully settled," Sokka laughed, kissing the side of her head. "You're something, you know? Most people take it easy after being tattooed… you basically just determined which position we'd fuck in depending on what I'd inked each day, eh?"

"You can call it what it is: genuine wisdom," Azula smiled, and Sokka laughed again. "Ah, but I really will miss this… miss you."

"You don't have to," Sokka said, stroking her hair. "We'll have an alliance soon, right?"

"Oh, yes," Azula smiled. Sokka chuckled.

"Then, see? We'll see each other again. For work, maybe? But then again, this was supposed to be work, so…"

"I guess," Azula said, reaching up to cup his face. "Didn't think this weird ordeal would land me a lover, but… I'm glad it did."

"I'm glad it landed me one, too," Sokka said, kissing her wrist softly. "Here I thought I'd have to give up my dreams of dating the hottest woman in the world one day, but heh, turns out they came true anyway…"

"Well, I sure can't complain either," Azula smiled as she eyed his body hungrily. "My lover is god-like, as far as I can tell…"

Sokka chuckled, kissing her again as he continued to offer her gentle affections: the final stroke was done now, and with it, all the implications of their shared bond, their mischievous crime. They'd have to keep the relationship quiet, for Ozai surely wouldn't approve… but Azula wasn't scared, for some reason. Perhaps life outside the Homura clan had appeared unfathomable, for a time… but now she had lived life with the Kawakami heir, no less, if just for a week. And perhaps such unfathomable possibilities were no longer so difficult to envision…

Sokka returned to the Kawakami headquarters to many questions that turned into loud applause when he announced the tattooing process had been a total success. Azula, of course, had returned to find the Homura clan was bordering on chaos without her active, constant surveillance, for as hard as he had tried to fill in for her, Zuko hardly knew how to handle the many cameras deftly. She had been welcomed gladly… though Ozai had been astonished when she had suggested he pulled through with the alliance suggestion.

"I know it sounds mad, but… his strokes and technique are truly quality work," Azula assured Ozai. "We could benefit from this alliance. We haven't had an tebori artist for a long time, so…"

"So, I take it the Kawakami boy is a seasoned professional ink artist?" Ozai asked, unamused. Azula nodded enthusiastically, though the word 'professional' certainly wasn't one her father would use if only he knew they'd indulged in so much wild, hot and relentless sex… "If you're impressed, then I suppose everyone will be. That being said, I need to know their full terms. Are you still in touch with the boy?"

"I can reach out, yes," Azula confirmed – no, she hadn't scheduled to meet him that night at his parlor to celebrate the likely success of their endeavor, of course not… "Shall I organize a meeting, then?"

"Please, do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "An alliance with the Kawakami clan… well, I suppose we could do worse than that."

Azula deeply hoped he'd stick to that mentality, though there was no telling if he would, let alone if he found out she was doing her tattoo artist… but for now, it was a victory. One she'd be quick to tell her 'ink prince', as she had named his contact on her phone, as soon as she had a chance to.

A week later, a silent, elegant meeting took place at a predilect bar of Ozai's. He and Hakoda sat together at the head of their table's long room, discussing the minutiae of the alliance, while many of their closest associates watched: Zuko was there, tense, constantly eyeing the Kawakami as though he feared they might try to kill him. Katara, of course, kept shooting glares at him for his distrustful attitude, which resulted in just extra anxiety for the Homura heir. No matter how many times Kya asked Katara to cut it out, her daughter wouldn't budge.

And Azula and Sokka shot each other stern, serious glares whenever anyone else caught sight of them… and traded light smiles, occasional touches, whenever no one noticed. After half an hour, Sokka had excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to pace to stretch his legs. He approached the spot Azula stood at… and slipped a hand, most imperceptibly, towards the spot his signature had been branded at. Azula remained most impassive, until some discussion over taxes bored her enough to glance at Sokka with a teasing smile as well.

"Want me to order you a drink?" he asked. "For old times' sake, my first Homura customer?"

"Should be me ordering you one, you set this whole mess in motion," Azula assessed. Sokka chuckled.

"Guess that's one way to look at it," he grinned. "About, well, tonight–…"

"Whatever happens now… I'll go once I can give everyone the slip," Azula interrupted him, eagerness plain on her face. Sokka grinned back.

"Then I'll be waiting," he said. "Seems we keep having things worth celebrating, eh?"

"That we do," Azula smiled…

And her hand slipped to Sokka's tailbone just the same, prompting him to laugh quietly as they both indulged in their mischievous, private moment despite standing in public view. They had no doubts their wild, raunchy, tumultuous, dangerous affair was only just beginning… and as much as they knew strife, chaos, and much darkness could loom in the horizon, a moment as bright as this one, of an alliance cemented between clans, was meant to be cherished, just as another bond strengthened between two driven, talented, likeminded lovers, who couldn't wait to discover what their newly entwined destinies might just have in store…

[koala-otter]

the teacher and the scientist au: worldbuilding

I am writing some original stuff right now, and as a break where I can keep writing, I’m going to explain some of my worldbuilding/choices that I make when it comes to my modern “the teacher and the scientist” AU. The hope is that it will be fun for others to see what goes into a fic, or give people ideas for their own fics!

*a quick note: I am a white Latina! I have no East Asian heritage! I studied for a while in Beijing and speak Mandarin Chinese fluently, so I kind of defer to my experiences there when making worldbuilding choices in fic (because I believe strongly in writing what you know, especially given the damage you might cause by writing what you don’t know), but will also do research online or through friends on other countries and cultures that inspired the four nations in ATLA. But all of this is just to say that while I do put a lot of thought into this stuff, I am by no means the authority on any of it, and I am open to criticism and of course always want to make sure I’m not doing anything harmful with my writing. I promise to listen and adapt if you approach me about literally anything in my fic or in this post.

Ok now let’s get into it!

1. The setting: Ba Sing Se’s Natural History Museum This is based on a combination of the Beijing Museum of Natural History, the American Natural History Museum in New York, and Beijing’s Forbidden City/Gugong. Beijing I think is probably the biggest inspiration for Ba Sing Se with the ring system and centering of the palace (and I mean the Earth King’s palace is pretty directly based off of Tiananmen Square), so it seems like a pretty solid model for a modern Ba Sing Se to me.

2. The field trip I went on so many field trips to the Natural History Museum when I was little, and they were always the absolute most fun of the year. And I feel like we went to the planetarium basically every time? It was kind of fun to recall and try to capture the experience of being a little kid on this trip in this fic

3. The Lower Ring & the Middle Ring I put Zuko and his students as coming from the Lower Ring for a few reasons. Firstly, I couldn’t imagine Katara and Aang living in either the financial district that is the Middle Ring or the ostentatiousness of the Upper Ring. I think if they were in Ba Sing Se they’d work and raise their family in the Lower Ring (I will be getting into their jobs in later installments of this story, so I won’t explain them here!), which means Bumi goes to school in the Lower Ring, which then means Zuko has to work there in order to be his teacher and for this entire concept to work out (and also the reasons explained in the actual fic where he lived there with Iroh and wants to give back). And the museum is in the Middle Ring because I wanted it connected to the university, which canonically is in Ba Sing Se’s Middle Ring.

4. Sokka as an astrophysicist Because Sokka is a smart kid and a huge science nerd, okay??? And Yue and the space sword. It makes sense. Also, because Ba Sing Se = ATLA’s Beijing, I think of Ba Sing Se University as Beida （北大）or Peking University, which is China’s first national university and one of the most, if not the most, selective university in the country (disclaimer: I did not study at Beida!!). But yeah BSSU is the Earth Kingdom’s most illustrious university and one of the best research institutions in the world, and Sokka’s a tenured professor there. My boy’s world-class brilliant.

5. “Teacher Zuko” Ughhh I really struggled with this. Basically, I was taught in learning Chinese to address teachers as “Surname 老师 (lao3shi1),” which is “Surname Teacher.” But! I didn’t want to give Zuko a surname, because that seemed rife with opportunities for missteps (there’s a lot that goes into surnames of literally any country or culture, from geography to family history and occupations, and I didn’t want to co-opt anything that wasn’t mine to use). So I knew the kids would call him by his first name. But “Zuko Teacher” sounded off. And in Chinese, titles like Mr. or Miss or Mrs. go after one’s surname, while in English it’s the opposite, so I figured for this fic it was appropriate to implement the English convention. So! “Teacher Zuko.”

6. Sokka’s appearance Sokka’s one of those hot, young professors that appear only in popular media, or once in a blue moon. He finds out from Katara that white sneakers are an easy way to look in the fashion know while remaining marginally professional for class, and they become a staple of his uniform. I picture him in Stan Smiths. (And of course they’re a little beaten up! It’s Sokka!)

7. The gaang’s ages Okay, so, I can’t find the actual post where this is broken down, but I think canonically it makes sense that Katara and Aang were 22 and 20, respectively, when Bumi was born. I put them in this fic at being maybe a year or two older in this fic, so let’s say 23 and 21, when they have Bumi, in Katara’s second year of med school. So when this fic takes place, as Bumi is six years old, they are 29 and 27, and Sokka and Zuko are then 30 and 31.

oh my god we’re only 700 words into a 4,000-word fic why did I decide to do this to myself

8. Sokka looking at his watch and having a penchant for exact minutes He’s a master scheduler. That’s it. 

9. “My Uncle Mushi lives in Chin City” This was just kind of an opportunity to integrate more from the ATLA universe! Obvi “Mushi” is Iroh’s refugee alias, but whatever another kid can have it, and yeah Chin City is that terrible village with all of those wacky people from “Avatar Day.” So we know the kid’s uncle is wacky. Fat chance of going on a field trip to visit him.

10. Zuko calling Bumi talented There’s that scene in the episode where they go to the Sun Warriors that Zuko calls Aang “a talented kid.” Bumi’s Aang’s son, so I figure by the transitive property Zuko would describe him the same way.

11. Zuko’s scar  I don’t know why but I often forget to mention Zuko’s scar in other fics! Either way, I find kids usually respond to people’s differences better than most adults do. Kids just see things and comment on them, which, yeah, can be rude by societal standards, but I’d imagine it would be very refreshing for Zuko after going much of his life with people trying to avoid either staring at the left side of his face or talking about what happened. Also, I didn’t really want to get into the cause of the scar. Obviously Ozai did it. I don’t have an idea of how. Other fics have done that better. Explaining it within the fic the way Zuko would explain it to his class seemed like a good way to tell the reader, “Hey yeah it’s the same cause as in the show,” but then not have to get into it.

12. Sokka hates intro classes Ughhh no one likes intro classes, and I’d imagine it’s even worse for professors. Prerequisites are often too easy for the kids intending on majoring or too hard and meant to weed out the kids who can’t stick with the department’s program. College is funny.

13. Aang volunteers in Zuko’s class From what I can tell, parental involvement in schools is only getting bigger. And Aang is a great dad and I think he’d take any opportunity to get involved with Bumi’s school.

14. Zuko’s backstory I should probably take the time to explain this! Basically I think of this story existing in a universe where after they moved to Ba Sing Se under circumstances comparable to their being refugees in the show, Iroh and Zuko actually stayed in the city, and Zuko got his education there. And yeah! My boy went to BSSU, too!

15. Stargazing at the South Pole and seeing the moon at the North Pole Oh my god the pure amount of thought that went into this. I worked with the assumption that A:TLA takes place on Earth, and that then the rotations of Earth, and the rotation of the moon, are the same as what we experience now (I’ve thought about this extensively, especially as it pertains to the hemispheres and the seasons, but I don’t want to talk about it here, we simply do not have either the time or space). So the South Pole is essentially the same as our Antarctica/South Pole, except that it is capable of sustaining human life for an extended amount of time, and in theory has greater biodiversity (clearly I have also thought about this extensively, but again, we have neither the time nor the space for my theories). I had to read a NASA report on the phases of the moon as seen from the South Pole! And it turns out you can’t see much of the moon down there, and it is always in crescent form. but yeah, you see a lot of stars (but in the opposite rotation of what we see in the Northern Hemisphere), and I thought that was intriguing, especially given the importance of moon imagery throughout the show. Thus, Sokka’s first seeing the moon in the Northern Water Tribe, which ties in perfectly with his meeting Yue, his first love: “You could say the moon was my first love.” (Which someone pointed out in a comment on Ao3, and it absolutely delighted me that they noticed!)

16. Pipsqueak Just looking for more people from the show to serve as first graders in this fic. Someone commented that they pictured him the same size as he was in canon, and I laughed out loud.

17. Tuyanjing I was trying to think of constellations that look like badger-moles, and I honestly just thought, “Ursa Major. Badger-moles look like giant bears.” And “Tuyanjing” (土眼睛) is my own translation of “earth eye,” which was meant to be a nod to the animals’ connection to Toph and their blindness and earthbending. 

18. All the stars & mentioning the Fire Nation & Water Tribe navigation I was initially going to write something in this scene about ancient constructions, like the pyramids, that were built using the constellations, and then create some elaborate metaphor about them and Zukka. But the only coherent thought I had about it was that it was “Too Much Work.” Instead I realized okay sailors always use the stars for navigation, and the Water Tribes and Fire Nation are the only nations we’ve seen with boats, so let’s go for that, and it works out because if you squint maybe you’ll read something about the stars guiding them to each other. Maybe we’re evoking thoughts of star-crossed lovers. And then we mention the moon again, and Zuko’s really seeing it for the first time, kind of like Sokka did, so hey I don’t know maybe that’s a symbol of something. Maybe.  

And that’s really it I think! Hopefully this was at least entertaining if not entirely informative. I don’t normally write stuff out like this, but it is a good reflection of my thought process while writing most fics. Again, I am open to any kind of communication about the above as well as anything else I’ve posted! And I’d love to hear about any of your own ideas that help you with worldbuilding and writing your own fics :)

[zukofenty]

Sugar

➜ Summary: The one where there’s a former skateboarding photographer turned teenaged masked vigilante running around protecting the city from crime. Yet, Katara always knew she wasn’t meant to just sit a good fight out.

“Did you just fucking slap me?” Zuko is incredulous, clutching his reddening man tit.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it? Be mad?” Katara bites back.

➜ Genre: Spiderman!AU, Modern!AU, humor

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Warnings: I love Zuko😩

AO3, My Zutara Month Playlist

@zutaramonth​ hi!!! this my late day 1 hehe

“Self care 2020 is officially over. We’re doing drugs again.” 

  Suki stares at Katara quizzically. “No, I don’t think that’s how it goes.” 

  “Are you sure?” Katara asks, puzzled. Suki just rolls her eyes, picking at her chipping manicure as Katara focuses on her biology homework. 

  “It’s only been like two weeks into the New Year. Yeah, I’m sure,” Suki deadpans. “What makes you think that doing drugs again is remotely going to-” Her rant is abruptly cut off at the sound of commotion coming from the courtyard. “Fuck, not Jet again.” 

  Katara jumps to her feet. Not this bitch again . Before she has to do more damage control than Camila Cabello’s publicist every time she opens her mouth and something stupid (and/or racist) for the 1000th time, Katara surveyed the scene before her. Freshman Aang, still prepubescent and so, so tiny was spared from having his face shoved in a moldy grilled cheese sandwich the cafeteria gave to kids who couldn’t afford lunch (yay public school!). He’s not facing Jet’s usual wrath inflicted on any short king 5’9” and under. Instead, a figure was gasping for air in an oversized black hoodie, hands clawing at Jet’s angular face. 

  “Hey Jet!” Katara yelps, pulling the tall boy up by his belt loops. He pauses in pummeling Zuko’s oh so pretty face, and grins unabashedly at Katara. The smile she knows is only reserved for her. 

  “Yes, Katara?” He smirks when he could almost hear pussies clench. He knows his power. 

  She smiles back at him, making it almost reach her eyes. “I did a little research, and guess what?” 

  “What?” 

  She pushes her bangs from her eyes, looking so sweet and innocent in her blazer and her signature knee length boots. “You’re a whore. A dumb whore.” He can’t help but let anger paint his face. “Leave these damn kids alone ! Don’t you have another class to ditch? A military program to join? A car to mod? Find a hobby. Go to therapy. Stupid.” 

  Her hair flows whips around as quickly as she does, flowing and bouncing effortlessly as she heads to AP Chemistry. 

  Zuko smiles, despite the pain in his chest from where Jet shoved his converse into. He thinks he loves her. Or what anti social kids like him thought love was because he doesn’t think she knows who he is. So polished and passionate about everything she does. Captain of the debate team, president of the Student Advocate’s club, and head intern at Phoenix Corporations in working on projects to mass clean polluted waters. She managed to do everything and still have kindness in her soul. The kind of love that you could almost feel surrounding a person. 

  He decides he likes staring at her, even if it’s the back of her head during chemistry. It was too easy to fall in love, when she was yelling at him to photograph the debate club’s photos in a certain light so they could post it on their Facebook for student recruitment season. He manages to always trip on his laces every time he’s around her, or stumble on his skateboard when she sends a small smile his way as they pass each other in the hallway of Ba Sing Se Academy. It’s always worth the detention Principal Pakku serves his way, if it meant he could get her attention. 

  In high school, guys like him and girls like her weren’t meant to be together. He’s impossibly clumsy, according to Uncle Iroh, and dangerously emo, according to everyone else. Katara, well she’s meant for bigger and better things, she’s meant to be out in the world and changing it. 

  She startles him, the way she turns so fast her ponytail narrowly misses his bruised face. “It was great what you did. It was kind of fucking stupid. But great.” 

  “Thank you?” 

  Katara beams impossibly wide. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?” 

  Zuko’s giving her a lopsided smile. “You don’t know my name?” 

  “Am I supposed to? You know I only keep up with Black Chyna and the lord.” Her wide eyes squint in a smile. His heart thunders, and he somehow feels as though Katara could sense it, with how much bigger her smile gets. 

  //

  “Welcome to the company single handedly transforming the genetic and biological industry. The future lies within!” The monitor’s voice announces repeatedly, Phoenix Corporation’s recognizable slogan. 

  Zuko’s in awe. He wasn’t meant for a world like this, with fancy lab coats and holographic presentations and people with glasses spewing larger than life terms. Hell, the revolving doors got him fucked up! That shit was too advanced for his liking. Science was his thing , but this was entirely out of his league. He donned glasses as an homage to a father he had never known, abandoning him when he was a baby on his Uncle Iroh’s doorstep. A labcoat was handed his way after the intern program directors approved with the badge of some guy named “Lee.” Zuko desperately tries to ignore the pleas of the real Lee coming from the lobby of the building. 

  “I swear I have a badge, I swear I’m an intern here!” 

  A guard shoves him out the door. “Can it, zit bitch!” 

  “I don’t think security guards are supposed to pick at people’s insecurities,” Lee whimpers. 

  He’s avoiding eye contact as Katara prattles away, taking the sweaty interns every which way through the company’s headquarters. “And here is Dr. Ozai, who will be discussing his cross elemental genetics project.” 

  He’s a formidable man. Tall, broad shoulders. He looks intensely polished, the type of man that always gets his way. The type of man who refuses anything less than what he wants. Zuko can’t help but stare. He looks different from the pictures Zuko found in Iroh’s basement. Meaner . Is this what he will look like in the future? He tries not to think about it too hard.  “Does anyone know the history of the firebenders are?” Zuko sees Ozai relishing in the confused faces of the teens, oily foreheads seemingly glistening in the fluorescent lighting. 

  “They were-”

  Zuko promptly interrupts him. “They were born with the ability to will fire any way they wanted. Legend has it that benders were born with abilities to manipulate all the elements: water, earth, fire, air. These people were invincible.” 

  Ozai smirks. A first for him, a student who understood his work. “Yes, all true. But the truly powerful ones were the ones who could firebend. This element is the most destructive, yet can bring beauty all at once.” He pauses to bring a holographic video to the attention of the students. “My goal is to recreate this ability that once came so easily to our ancestors. To bring humankind to be this powerful again. Where nothing will ever get in our way, no illness, no fear. Just us and the elements, joined together once more.” 

  As the fellow interns become increasingly enraptured by the presentation detailing his work, Ozai turns to Katara reviewing notes for the rest of the office tour. “Who was that kid?” She couldn’t help but feel pride in her soul. As she turns to introduce him to her mentor, her brows furrow in confusion. He’s nowhere to be found.

  //

  He hadn’t meant to sneak into the top secret chamber of research, he swears. One minute he’s looking for a bathroom because he downed one too many Fiji waters because they were fancy and he wanted to feel fancy. And then of course he’s distracted by pretty buttons, and of course the rebel in him is able to remember the passcode scientists used to enter this top secret chamber. (The password was “thrussy.”) 

  He certainly hadn’t meant to get burned. He hastily climbed into the empty tube to hide himself as security guards routinely checked the room. While trying to unlock the door, of course he just had to trip on his laces, and of course he just had to press some button. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by rainbow colored flames, engulfing his body. He remembers the last thing he searched on his computer was “what are furries festival” and prays that the police spares that from the report when they investigate his death. 

  But, he’s fine. He’s more than fine. He’s fucking fantastic . He’s strong, he has the reflexes of a fucking ninja, and he can conjure fucking flames from his hands. From his hands! 

  He practices every night, after the day at Phoenix Corp. He singed his towels, accidentally broke open his medicine cabinet when he reached for his anti depressants, and exploded his Aveeno bedside lotion. There’s an abandoned building near his apartment, and he climbs to the rooftop every night to control his newfound powers. He’s not clumsy, and swears he can rival Tony Hawk with his skateboarding abilities.

  But the best part is how agile he’s become. He’s strong, noodle arms now muscular. His baggy shirts like a conscious fashion choice, and not just because they were the cheapest in the Walmart clearance rack. The kids that ignored him and continued to make out in front of his locker without any consequence? Pushed to the ground. The bully targeting petite kings? Basketball shoved firmly into his head. 

  “I’m trying my hardest to stop being mean. It’s really not my fault everyone is so fucking stupid.” Zuko petulantly stares at the suspension slip Pakku had written as he waits for Iroh to finish speaking to the principal. Apparently justice has consequences. 

  “Zuko!” Katara serious tone is heavily contrasted with laughter. 

  “Fine, you caught me. I’ve been ditching therapy to hotbox in the Denny’s parking lot.” 

  Katara huffs. “Denny’s? Really, bitch? You couldn’t have chosen, I don’t know, Target at least. Here I thought you were classy.” 

  Their collective laughter was interrupted by Iroh’s appearance, anger maring his usually gentle face. “We’ll talk about this later. Zuko, you know better than this. Why did you have to humiliate that boy?” 

  “He deserved it!” 

  “Enough! I’m have to pick up some later shifts at the tea shop today. Show up for yours today, too.” Zuko senses his uncle has more to say, more to berate him for. He just looks exhausted . Defeated. It’s all his damn fault. Iroh swerves to Katara. “He has you on his computer by the way! I’m his parole officer, nice to meet you.”  Zuko’s mouth falls open, trying to explain to Katara who is barely holding herself together with how loudly she’s guffawing. 

  “I love you,” Iroh says, moving to exit out the school.

  “I know.” Zuko starts to move away, before he pauses. “I love you, too.” 

//

  He thought, you get the girl, you get the firebending skills and you get hot and everything is ok. Everything is perfect. The universe has so many ways to fuck up your life, because serenity is just too easy. 

  Zuko’s heart clenches, staring at his Uncle’s body. There are tears that promise to slip, but never embark on their journey. A monitor nearby is noisily beeping, a tired nurse pats Zuko gently on the back. He’s becoming a recognizable figure, after all he does visit his Uncle Iroh two times a day. 

  It’s his fault . 

  It’s a thought that becomes permanent in his mind. It’s his fault that he lost track of training himself, and didn’t show up for his shift. It’s his fault that Iroh was running around the whole damn city looking for him. It’s his fucking fault his uncle was beat nearly half to death by robbers. 

  He grabs his uncle’s limp hands gently between his own calloused ones. “I’m going to make this right. I’m going to make you proud.” He slips away before he can feel his heart threatens to simply stop, unable to process the infinite pain he feels. 

  //

He glances at his watch nervous for multiple reasons. One, that he was going to miss his shift at the tea shop and get lectured again by June, his neighbor who has graciously taken over running the shop and housing Zuko until Iroh wakes from his coma. Two, that if he stares at the sea prunes any longer without actually eating them, Katara’s grandma would start laughing at him. Three, if Katara’s father kept glaring at him he would combust with how fucking nervous he was. It didn’t help he snuck in through Katara’s window and Hakoda had discovered him watching Tik Toks on her bed. 

  The dinner was a bust. Halfway through and he’s already gotten in an argument with the police chief over a certain masked figure. 

  “I think his name is The Blue Spirit.” Zuko admits, fighting to hide a smile. 

  Hakoda stares down at the boy. “More like Blue Dipshit. He’s destroying the city!” Katara quickly steps in as the argument grows heated, taking Zuko out to her building’s rooftop. 

  “Oh my god, you should be glad he didn’t shoot your ass up.” Katara clutches the railing, staring out to the city lights. 

  The same city lights he lives by, swears by. He remembers trying to seek out his uncle’s attacker. A man named Zhao notorious for his violent temper and attacks on the city’s elderly. He was able to run into his gaggle of minions on his nights long quest. While they had successfully nearly beat him to a pulp, he swears he’s set a few jackets on fire and managed to outrun them. Even if it meant he had fallen through an unbuilt building, tumbling down six stories before landing in the pits of a former fight club. He saw it then, the Blue Spirit legend. An ancient swordsman who dominated the underground scene. 

  He decided he was going to be the best damn superhero the world had seen. Even if it meant wearing an all black leotard every night. He designed it to best complement his firebending, resistant to the heat. The mask he slipped on every night, built to protect both him and his identity. The swords at his back that he’s been training with hours on end. 

“Are you a cop?” he remembers his uncle’s attacker questioning, his new target blocked by Zuko’s presence. 

  “Really? You think a cop is going to be wearing a blue face mask and black spandex?” He doesn’t remember much of that night, anger too palpable and blinding his senses. All he will admit to is leaving him in some police car. Not the bruises littering the bandit’s body. Or his missing pants. 

  “I have to tell you something.” He joins Katara at the railing. 

  She gasps. “I knew it! You listen to Post Malone unironically.” 

  “No, god no. I haven’t hit rock bottom yet to start doing that.” He’s proud of himself for making her laugh. 

  “What’s up?” She asks. He can’t back out now. Not when she’s looking at him like he’s the whole world, not when she’s become his whole world. 

  “I-I can’t” He stutters, breaking their eye contact. 

  She nods in quiet understanding, turning away from him to walk back to her apartment. Zuko sighs, rubbing a hand at his forehead. “ Fuck.”

  He conjures up a storm of flames to surround Katara. The force was enough to whirl her around and towards him, waiting to catch her in his arms. 

  “What the fuck was that?” Katara yelps, before being cut off with the feeling of Zuko’s lips pressed against hers. 

  “I just wanted to let you know. I Am. A. God.” He swears, the flames growing steadily from his palms.  

  “I’m kind of scared of you right now. Not because of the firebending or anything, just because the amount of testosterone is making me nervous.” She initiates the kiss this time. Her lip gloss tastes sweet, and he keeps kissing her until her lips become chapped. His hands can’t help but roam her body, her hands teasing and finding contact with his toned stomach beneath his hoodie. 

  “Are you kidding me!” Sokka calls from the rooftop’s entrance, hands covering his eyes. “I swear to Spirits above Zuko I am not afraid to castrate you right here right now. Katara, get the fuck inside!” 

  Zuko blushes. 

  // 

“Katara, you’re so incredibly mature for your age.” Hama insists. 

  Katara is beaming. “Thanks, it’s the childhood trauma!” 

  The chemistry teacher freezes, looking at the still smiling girl peculiarly. “Um, well. My point is, it’s not worth it. I-I know it’s none of my business. I just see so much of myself in you. Including the mistakes I know you’re going to make. Honey, it’s not worth mixing yourself up with a guy that’s only more trouble than anything else. You’re going to go to the best college in the nation, I just know it. You just can’t afford to lose your focus now. Been there, done that. It’s not worth it.” 

  She smiled seemingly understandingly, struggling to keep her mouth shut. If only she knew. 

  The Blue Spirit couldn’t fight all the crime in the city alone. As much as Zuko was convinced he was the shit, he really wasn’t. The Blue Spirit couldn’t dare match up to The Painted Lady. 

“You’re The Painted Lady?” Zuko questions, eyes closed in confusion while trying to process all the information. To be fair, he’s only gotten two hours of sleep a night ever since his life as The Blue Spirit began. He’s convinced the police really only sit around and eat donuts. If this was Law and Order: SVU , he just knew Olivia Benson wouldn’t need a masked teenager saving people. He opens his eyes when he begins to feel pulsating water near his wounds, Katara controlling its every movement as it works its way through his wounds. 

  After reuniting with his father and become an official intern at Phoenix Corp, he soon realized his father was not as occupied with cross elemental theories. No, he was much more focused on how to resurrect the dragons of the world. The true firebenders, he noted. Zuko had found hidden notes his mother had written before leaving his father. Partners in crime, they were working on their research together. Before his mother had left with the solution, before his father could understand the consequences of his work. Before his father had made himself a subject and injected their concoction into himself, become a half scaled half human hybrid roaming the sewers of the city. 

  He had found his father, bitter to no end as he continues producing the serum that was supposed to make the most powerful being on the planet. Zuko was left with gashes in his chest that made him wanted to vomit with how much blood was pouring out. He was left to die in dirty sewage water, his father cackling as he disappeared. Until she showed up. 

  The Painted Lady. 

  The city’s emblem, etched on coins and dollar bills. He’s heard rumors about her cleaning up the city’s rivers, healing patients doctors long gave up on. Her grandmother had told her their family comes from a long line of waterbenders, the last one born 400 years ago. She had her swear never to reveal her talents, never talk about it, never do anything about it. It was dangerous, the government would want to talk to her. She would disappear, the whole family would be in danger But Katara was never one to listen to directions very well. 

  “Did you just fucking slap me?” Zuko is incredulous, clutching his reddening man tit. She’s nearly healed all the cuts on his body at the hands of his father’s claws. The burn from a dragon is more painful than any other, and Katara’s upset. She can’t heal his eye, no matter how hard she tries. 

  “Yeah, what are you going to do about it? Be mad?” Katara bites back. She pauses the water disappearing from her hands and back onto the mug on her night stand. “I can’t believe you’re so fucking stupid.” She’s in his lap, clad in only a t shirt. Her hair falls in her eyes as she returns to heal his wounds, and he gingerly brushes the strand out from blocking her. 

  “I know.” Zuko couldn’t help but press a kiss to her cheek. 

  “Don’t return the sweatpants,” Katara throws out. 

  Zuko raises his eyebrow. “Why, doesn’t Sokka want these back?” 

  “He says, ‘I don’t want emo butt juice on them,’” Katara shrugs. 

  He blows a stray hair from his scarred eye out of frustration. “I consider myself chic punk more than anything else.” 

  She pauses again. “What if there’s more of us out there?” Katara uneasily peers up at his questioning stare. “More benders?” 

  Even with all the tests and insistence Ozai had for recreating this power, Zuko had been the only successful case. The only person to fully exhibit the power of his ancestors. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t they need to go through some sort of freak accident like I did?” 

  “What if your power was suppressed this whole time?” 

  He contemplates the idea, hands rubbing up and down her waist. 

  “I think my grandma used to say something like ‘One queef and this whole building could tumble down.’”

  He is glaring at her quizzically. “No I don’t think that’s right. What does that even mean?” 

  “It means, life as we know it will change forever. If we find other benders to defeat your father. If we expose what bending is. Hell, the city still thinks you use jetpacks to propel yourself around the city.” 

  He pecks chastely at her lips. She hates how easily she’s able to relax when he kisses away her worries. “You know, I used to think if I had a boyfriend I would simply go beat pedophiles to death with him as a hobby. I don’t know whether or not to be delighted this has come true.” 

  “As long as The Blue Spirit always has The Painted Lady. Everything will be alright.” 

  “You promise?” 

  “You rise with moon. He does, too.” Zuko’s staring at the mask in his hand. His other hand firmly around Katara’s. 

[sky-kiss]

Urzai Day 4: Modern AU

A/N: I failed. This was going to be business AU. With a lot of boardroom sex. And then it was. Sokka getting the parents drunk and them just being filthy and confessing all their youthful indiscretions. Now it’s this.

______

AU Where Everyone Is Disgustingly Happy and It’s Pretty Gross

______

“I fail to see why we must attend.”

Ursa took a steadying breath, staring straight ahead instead of at the man beside her. If she looked, the urge to slap him upside his idiot head would prove too great. Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She reminded herself of the reasons she had fallen in love with him. She reminded herself of the two beautiful children they raised together.

Better. She turned, painting on a radiant smile, “Because, my love,” she stressed the endearment, enjoying the scowl it elicited, “this is a family affair. And, like it or not, Sokka is practically family.”

“Not yet.”

She pinched his forearm, “Hakoda will be there. You like Hakoda.”

“I tolerate Hakoda,” he corrected, turning up his nose. There were times when her husband struck her as a paragon of men, forward thinking, handsome, charismatic even. There were others when she could not shake the impression that he was nothing more than an oversized child trapped in a man’s body.

“Yes, well,” she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of his dress shirt, patting his stomach, “I tolerate you as well, dear. So please. Behave.”She knocked on the door before he could argue, shifting the bundle beneath her arm. A bottle of wine for herself, cinnamon whiskey for her husband, and a pie (bakery bought; she had no talent herself) for the children.

Despite Ozai’s grousing, she had high hopes for the evening.  Sokka hadn’t offered much in the way of an official explanation; he was just excited to have a place of his own after sharing an apartment with his sister for the past three years. “A get together kind of thing" had been his exact words. Kya had kindly translated to “ a housewarming party.”

Ursa was happy for the him. In part because he deserved it; of all the young men she’d she’d had the pleasure of knowing Sokka was one of the few she would classify as genuinely good. And, more selfishly, because she knew how good he had been, and was, to her daughter. It was something of an open secret among their social circle that Azula had spent the majority of her nights at the house.  Helping Sokka unpack.

“He’s really quite hopeless,” she’d muttered, making a show of inspecting her nails. “Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far.”

The hand at the small of her back smoothed upward, fingers curling in the fabric of her shirt as he leaned past her, knocking on the door. Ozai’s voice pulled her from her reverie, “If you’re going to stand there all day navel gazing…”

She shook her head, chuckling despite herself.

The conversation inside silenced immediately. She could just make out the sound of Sokka barking orders (at her own son, most likely) and then feet padding across the hardwood. The water tribe boy was grinning, a hint of color already in his cheeks from the heat, “You found the place! See, Azula. I told you they’d find it.”

Azula, leaning against the kitchen island, made some flippant gesture with her hand, “I didn’t doubt they could find us, imbecile. I doubted they would come.”

“Well,” Sokka turned back to them, grinning, “Shows what she knows. How are ya, mom?”

Ursa chuckled, returning his embrace, “I’m doing well, dear. Are you settling in?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just...boxes. A lot of boxes,” he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, surveying the living room. While it was mostly put together now (her daughter’s influence, no doubt) there was still an element of chaos. Nothing she and Kya couldn’t fix over the course of an evening. Sokka held his hand out, tone more somber, “Mister Huo.”

Ozai shot her a look. To an outsider, she imagined it must look as austere as any of his other expressions. After decades together, she saw it for what it was. Thinly veiled amusement. Her husband linked his hands at the small of his back, standing to the full of his considerable height, “Sokka.”

“Dad’s out back making burgers if you want to go help. Think he was going to make a fire or something.”

Ozai’s eyes widened, “He’ll burn your house down.”

Sokka flashed him a sheepish green, shrugging, “Yeah. That’s what mom said too.”

Her husband grumbled something under his breath, pausing to press the obligatory kiss to her cheek before stalking towards to the back door. It was probably for the best. Conversation would be easier without Ozai looming over their shoulders. And Hakoda, for as dear as he was, as good as he was, was better off with a more...grounded partner supervising his lofty endeavors.

The water tribe boy stared after the man, shaking his head. “We’re never going to eat.”

Sokka sounded appropriately miserable. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face, a testament to the summer heat and the oppressive humidity. Staring out towards the backyard, Ursa was inclined to agree with him. Already, she could hear the telltale signs of their bickering.

“I’m just saying. If you had a little more vision, we’d have this done in half the time,” Hakoda flipped the burgers for perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes. Too often. He shot a dark look at her husband. Ozai stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest, unrepentant. He was already portioning out their whiskey, tone droll, chiding.

“There is a burn ban in place for a reason, Hakoda.”

“Are you this unimaginative in every aspect of your life, Ozai? If so, remind me to offer Ursa my condolences…” Kya slid the back door shut. The rest of their conversation was (mercifully) droned out.

Sokka took the pie from her, motioning for her to follow, “C’mon. We were waiting to take a tour of the house until you got here.”

“That was very sweet of you, dear, but you didn’t have to go through any trouble on my part.”

He waved her off. To her surprise, Azula uncoiled from her position near the kitchen island, moving to twine her arms around the young man’s waist. It was...impressive growth for her.  Even months into their relationship (and after her parent’s reservations were finally erased), she’d been leery about showing public affection. She’d spent years cultivating her public persona, encasing herself in armor; even the smallest show of attention was too much like a gap in her armor.

That she felt she could express herself here was telling. Ursa  fought the urge to reach out and touch her daughter’s face. Azula’s smile was subdued, maybe even indulgent, but it was there. That meant the world to her.

Kya rolled her eyes. The water tribe woman pressed a glass of wine into her hand, tipping her head towards the hallway, “If you’d prefer, Ursa and I can show ourselves around…”

Her son shook his head, half a step from lunging in front of them, “Not a chance. You guys will start ‘organizing’ and I’ll never find anything again. Now. First stop, the bedrooms.”

The older women shared an amused glance. Neither of them missed the way Sokka took Azula’s hand. Neither of them  missed that the girl was mostly willing to follow, her protest entirely feigned.

______

It was a comfortable house, she’d give him that. Nothing overly remarkable (which shock her, honestly; Sokka was painfully traditional in some respects and a pioneer in others). Perhaps the most impressive aspect was an addition he had made himself.

He was living here alone (technically). The master bedroom was his. The spare was set up to serve as an office sometimes and a place for guests to stay. The third room was just...excessive. So he’d started a project all his own.

Sokka scrubbed and the back of his neck, gesturing at the polished hardwood floors. The far side of the room was lined with mirrors; an effective replica of any ballet studio. Ursa hid her smile behind her hand, listening as the boy fumbled through his justification, “Don’t smirk, mom. The room wasn’t doing me any good and Azula needed a place to...you know. Practice. And at least if she’s here when she falls…”

“I do not fall, Sokka.”

“If she falls,” he corrected, “I can drive her to hospitable or something. Or at least...defend the paramedics when they arrive.”

Ursa smiled, “It was very thoughtful of you, dear.”

“Eh. Gotta give her some reason to stick around.”

She didn’t respond but found herself shooting another glance towards Kya. The other woman shook her head. In silent agreement, they hung back a few steps, letting the couple lead them back towards the kitchen. They were involved in a little squabble, verbally prodding each other until Azula dug her elbow into the boy’s side. It didn’t keep him from laughing.

Ursa shook her head, linking her arm with the water tribe woman, “I don’t think I understand their relationship. But I’m not exactly in a position to judge.”

“Let’s just say love is strange, hmm? Leave it at that.” She liked the other woman. She was clever and feisty and had a...realness to her that was lacking among the majority of Ursa’s social circle. She liked the glint in her pale eyes, the hint of mischief as she leaned against her shoulder, “And how are you holding up, Ursa? After everything with Zuko?”

She snorted into her wine, “Ah. You mean after he decided to take ten years off his mother’s life?”

“More or less.”

Her (idiot) son had decided to vanish over the weekend. She’d been none the wiser until Azula forwarded her one of the (less flattering) new articles. Tycoon’s son married in Vegas. Ursa was still in the process of recovering. Her frustrations were only made worse by Ozai’s sudden indifference to the whole affair. For once, he wasn’t willing to chastise their son. Ursa finished her glass, “I’ll make it through. How’s Katara?”

Kya snorted, “Happy to have her brother out of her hair, I imagine.”

It’s all...oddly companionable. They two women drift into more neutral territory. How busy the hospital was recently (they were understaffed again, Kya was convinced that was responsible for her fresh string of grey hairs); how Ursa was managing the company’s latest merger.

It was...lovely.

[madsthewordclown]

Pancakes | Sokka x Reader Modern AU

warnings: minor language

summary: you’re tired coming home from a trip over break and also freaking out about your feelings for a certain friend of yours. ft. best friend sleepover.

This fic was somewhat inspired by Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzy McAlpine and the rest of my pining playlist. Hope you guys like it! Also I’m sorry the title is not very relevant but I was tired after spending three days trying to pull this together :/ whoops

“Don’t worry, I’m almost home.” You talked just a bit too loudly to make sure your phone picked up the noise.

“Are you on the phone while driving, Y/N?” Sokka asked. He could probably hear the sound of your car on the highway—there were too many bumps on this road.

“It’s on speaker,” you clarified, being careful to keep your eyes on the road. You had been hoping to get home before dark, but the sun setting to your left was not a great indicator. You glanced down at your dashboard clock—only 5:30. You cursed daylight savings time. “I think I might have an hour left?”

“Know your way from there?” Sokka’s voiced cracked in your phone speaker. He sounded like he was chewing something.

“Yeah, I think so. I was just checking in to let you know.” You had been calling and checking in with either Sokka, Zuko or Katara every hour of your drive. Driving for so long made you especially nervous, and you never said anything so not to worry them, but you wanted one of your friends to have a general idea of where you were if anything were to happen. You knew that you were just being paranoid, but the dimming evening light only served to heighten your nerves.

“Drive safe,” Sokka told you. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you replied, gulping. You thought of the millions of things you wanted to say to him, but kept your mouth shut. You glanced down to see your phone screen go dark, indicating that Sokka had hung up.

You didn’t tell him how you wished he would stay on the phone to keep you company. You didn’t ask him to see about getting you food for when you finally got home. You most definitely didn’t tell him about the very unhelpful thought that was streaming through your head; I like you, I like you, I like you.

You didn’t know when things had changed between you and Sokka. Your feelings for him had grown into something more than purely platonic, that you couldn’t deny. But you were pretty good at keeping those feelings hidden—in most cases your infatuations would come and go quickly, and you didn’t like to embarrass yourself by acting on an impulse. Even so, you felt like Sokka had been distant lately.

You supposed he had offered to let you stay at his and Zuko’s apartment while you were temporarily kicked out of your dorm for what your college said was a “routine maintenance procedure,” but that might have been more Zuko’s doing. Besides, they had offered the same service to Toph. Toph said that “routine maintenance” was probably code for “getting rid of roaches”.

At least the temporary displacement was over fall break, when lots of students went home. The university did offer other temporary accommodations, but Katara had insisted that the stay at Sokka and Zuko’s would be “the ultimate best-friend sleepover,” and that they’d all spend the night when you got back. As much as you loved your friends, you were happy that you had spent the first half of your break with your parents. You felt like you needed to give Sokka some space, and maybe take some time to let your feelings pass. Unfortunately, they hadn’t, but maybe Sokka would stop acting so distant.

You kept your speed at 5 under the limit as you drove. You felt ridiculous, but somehow your brain could never stop imagining worst-case scenarios; a deer jumping out in front of you, a police chase coming to a violent end over the top of the next hill. It was like a mini-existential crisis every time you were behind the wheel for too long.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you reached the city, the streets once again becoming familiar, illuminated by the streetlamps. The tight feeling in your chest loosened its grip, and you let your hands relax against the wheel.

You hardly believed your luck when you saw the empty space in front of Sokka and Zuko’s building. You quickly parked. Spaces were usually impossible to find. You unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned back with a sigh, relieved to finally be done driving. You had made it, the full 8 hours finally over.

You got out of the car and stretched your legs. Cars weren’t built for tall people, you lamented to yourself as you grabbed your bags out of your backseat, feeling the stiffness in your back as you leaned to grab your things.

Going up the stairs to the third floor was awful, and by the end of it, you wanted nothing more than to lie down. You knocked on the door—they had temporarily offered your spare key to Toph while you were gone—and leaned on the frame while you waited for someone to answer.

“Y/N!” Sokka cried as he opened the door for you. The instant you saw his smile you felt butterflies in your stomach, and the overwhelming urge to just say it—I like you, I like you, I like you—repeated like a mantra in your head.

“Hey, Sokka!” You leaned in to give him a half-hug; it was the best you could do with all of your bags.

“You should’ve called,” Sokka eyed your bags with a frown, “I would’ve helped you bring your stuff in.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed him off, pushing through the door.

“Y/N!” Katara cheered. You could see her sitting on the floor with Aang, leaning back up against the sofa where Zuko and Toph were sprawled out as much as possible. Somehow, Toph managed to take up more space regardless of the height difference. Zuko, Aang, and Toph echoed Katara’s cheer, although Toph did so half-mockingly.

You dropped your bags off by the kitchen table—you’d sort those out later. You just wanted to rest, and you knew you’d have to answer questions about your trip. Suddenly, a smell hit you. “Is something burning?”

“Shit!” Sokka exclaimed suddenly, rushing over to the stove.

“What’s that?” You asked, going to look over his shoulder. It was a bit difficult, as he and Zuko somehow managed to be taller than you. It drove you crazy, as you had been used to being the resident tall-person before you’d met. They loved holding it over your head, both literally and figuratively. (But you most definitely did not have a Napoleon complex. No way.)

“Pancakes,” Sokka answered, carefully flipping two off of the pan. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

“And we wanted pancakes!” Toph yelled from her spot on the couch.

“Make your own damn pancakes!” Sokka yelled back, “I’m giving up.” He turned to where you were standing behind him.

“Here, I’ll take the ones that I burnt, and you can have these other ones.” He held out a plate to you. “I hope four is enough.”

“You really didn’t have to make me food.” But you were so, so happy he did. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, but now your stomach was being very demanding. You took the plate from him. “Thanks, Sokka.” I like you, I like you, I like you.

“Well, we know Sokka has a favorite,” Toph deadpanned.

“You never make me pancakes, Sokka,” Zuko pouted, sticking out his tongue.

“Shut up,” Sokka replied simply, following you over to claim a spot on the floor next to Katara and Aang, a bottle of syrup in hand.

You and Sokka ate pancakes while your friends asked you about your trip, with a random Mythbusters episode acting as background noise. Yes, your parents were doing great, yes, your hometown was as interesting as ever. The pancakes were delicious, and you felt even more grateful for Sokka’s gesture.

Despite the joy you felt to be reunited with your friends, you couldn’t deny that you were tired. You felt yourself wanting to doze off as you leaned on the couch. You yawned, stretching your arms up. Sokka noticed immediately.

“Hey, you can take my room if you want,” he offered, accurately sensing your exhaustion. You tried in vain to keep your cheeks from reddening—you didn’t think Sokka had noticed, but you were sure Katara did by the look she gave you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him, “all of my bags are in here anyway, and they’re a mess.”

“Here, I’ll move them and get things cleaned up. You need to sleep,” Sokka insisted, proving his insistence by immediately getting up to gather your things. The second he disappeared into his room, Katara turned to you.

“Y/N, I give you my permission to date my brother.”

“Katara!” You blushed. “It’s not like that.”

“Y/N, you’re my best friend and Sokka’s my roommate,” Zuko said, “and I of all people would know that you two have been dancing in circles around each other for months.”

“It’s disgusting,” Toph added, unhelpfully.

“Sokka doesn’t like me like that. He’s been acting weird and avoiding me for weeks,” you reasoned, not bothering to deny your own feelings. It’s not like it mattered.

“He’s not avoiding you today,” Aang mentioned as he leaned on Katara’s shoulder. You supposed you couldn’t deny it, but before you had the chance to respond, Sokka was back.

“I’m sorry if things are still a bit messy, but you can head in and go to bed if you’re tired. I can take the couch.”

“Hey, Snoozles, Zuko and I called dibs,” Toph snapped. “Take the floor.”

“Zuko has a bed here, you know.” Sokka put a hand on his hip.

“Yeah,” Zuko looked up at him from his position on the couch, “but now I’m here, and I’m not moving.” Toph nodded in agreement.

“Then I’ll take Zuko’s room,” Sokka amended.

“Okay, then,” Zuko conceded.

“What?!?” Katara cried indignantly, sitting up straight like a bolt. “You told me I couldn’t!”

“Yeah, because he doesn’t want you and Twinkle-Toes canoodling,” Toph cackled. Katara scoffed.

“We do not canoodle!”

Sokka turned to you as you yawned again. “Get some sleep,” he said. As much as you wanted to refuse, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to finally get some rest. You slowly stood up and walked yourself towards Sokka’s room, and he took your spot on the floor. “Goodnight.”

You took a deep breath when you entered Sokka’s room and switched on the light. You had been in his room once before, when you offered him a ride to a lecture, and he wasn’t awake on time—you had come in and smacked him with one of your notebooks. It was small—Sokka felt bad that Zuko paid most of their rent with his rich-person money and had actually convinced him to go for a cheaper apartment when they had decided to move in together.

You got the vague sense that you needed to shower, but you were too tired to worry about it, and you didn’t want to fish your toiletries out of your stuffed overnight bag. You checked your phone once, and saw you had a text from Katara.

Sokka was paying more attention to you than Mythbusters, Y/N. The MYTHBUSTERS!!!

You rolled your eyes and shot back a quick, “whatever.” And for once, your overwhelming exhaustion drowned out the fluttering feeling in your gut as you climbed into Sokka’s bed. You were asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You could tell when you woke up that it was way too early. You could also tell that you weren’t in your own bed, and then you remembered. Right. Sokka gave you his room. You sat up, pushing the comforter off of you. You had a shaky feeling in your chest, and you knew you’d woken up from a bad dream, but you couldn’t quite remember what it was. You felt like you did when you were driving the night before—jittery, a million thoughts going through your mind all at once.

You decided it might be a good course of action to get a glass of water to help you calm down and relieve the dryness in your throat that further prevented you from going back to sleep. You quietly tip-toed out of Sokka’s bedroom. You noticed multiple papers with sketches and diagrams from his engineering classes scattered about the room, and it gave you a little bit of comfort.

You tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the others, who were all fast asleep in the living room. You quickly got your glass of water and downed it, not wanting to bring it into Sokka’s room and risk spilling on any of his stuff. You made your way back to his room and crawled back under the covers. No sooner had you pulled the blanket up over yourself did you hear the door open once again.

“Oh.” Sokka’s frame stood in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just coming in to get something.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t asleep,” you said, sitting up.

“Oh.” A beat. “Are you okay?”

The tone of his voice made you pause. It was how he’d been talking to you for weeks, save for last night.

“Yeah.” You put a hand to your head, trying to clear your thinking. “I think I’m just a bit stressed after all of the driving and stuff. I hate it.” You gave a dry laugh, and you could see Sokka approach you in the dark.

“I thought you said the drive went fine,” Sokka pressed, now standing next to you.

“It did!” You assured him. “I just don’t like driving, especially at night. It makes me nervous. Why did you think I was calling so much?”

“Oh,” Sokka said dumbly. He was close enough now that you could make out his features. He frowned at you. “Can I sit?” He asked after a long pause. You nodded and awkwardly scooched over to make space for him.

“You know, if you wanted someone to drive with you, I could’ve gone.”

“Sokka,” you laughed, “it’s 8 hours. What could you possibly do to stay entertained up there for three days?”

Sokka shrugged and smiled at you. “I have friends over that direction.”

“Of course you do,” you rolled your eyes. Sokka somehow knew everybody and was friends with almost everyone he knew.

“Plus,” Sokka bumped his shoulder against yours, “I think your parents would love me.” You elbowed him in response, trying to quell the fluttering of your heart and the words that threatened to bubble up from your throat.

“Seriously,” Sokka told you finally, turning to look at you. Even in the dark, his eyes were startlingly blue. “I could’ve at least stayed on the phone with you for a bit.

“I don’t want to ask that of you. You have more important things to do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Sokka said, looking you in the eye. You gulped in the silence, and suddenly everything felt like too much. You could feel his leg up against yours, and his eyes were so blue, and his hair was hanging out of his ponytail, and he said it like he meant it, and you were surrounded by his drawings and his smell and I like you I like you I like you and—

“I like you.”

For a moment you thought you had spoken your thoughts aloud, but that wasn’t your voice, and Sokka was still looking at you and there was something about his expression, and—oh. You sat there with your mouth hanging open.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have said that, and…” He trailed off when you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“Are you joking?” You asked plainly, looking up at him. Sokka stared back.

“…no.”

With just that one little word you felt the thoughts you’d been holding back for the past months flood up, as if a dam had been broken, and there were so many things that you wanted to say all at once, but your mouth wasn’t working.

“Me, too,” you replied dumbly, and Sokka cocked his head at you.

“What?”

“I like you, too,” you mumbled, leaning forward to bury your face in his chest. You were sure that he’d be able to see your horrible blushing, even in the dim light. You felt Sokka chuckle a little bit.

“What was that?”

You felt your blush deepen as he gently pushed you away from him. “I like you, too,” you repeated, finally looking him in the eye. Sokka gently laid a hand on your cheek, and your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in.

Kissing Sokka was somehow softer than you had expected. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person—loud, passionate, outgoing, and too smart for his own good—but his kiss was gentle and loving and ended way too soon.

“Do you wanna go out some time?”

“Um, obviously,” you giggled, leaning in as he wrapped you up in a hug, pulling you close.

“Just thought I’d check,” Sokka hums, hand circling your back gently as you yawn into his shoulder. “Now you need to get some sleep.”

“ZUKO, Y/N AND SOKKA ARE CANOODLING!” You and Sokka jumped, awoken by Katara’s yelling. You blinked your eyes open to see all four of your friends standing in Sokka’s bedroom doorway.

“We were not canoodling!” Sokka shouted indignantly.

“This isn’t my room, Katara. It’s not under my jurisdiction,” Zuko shrugged.

“Why couldn’t Aang and I take your room?” Katara demanded. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and felt yourself blushing.

“My room is a canoodle-free zone, Katara.”

Zuko and Katara bickered for a while, while Toph laughed and Aang stood by awkwardly, although you didn’t miss him shooting Sokka a thumbs-up. When it seemed like they’d forgotten you were there completely, Sokka cleared his throat.  

“Excuse me, guys.” Katara and Zuko stopped bickering to look at him. “If you don’t mind, I want to go make Y/N and I some pancakes.” With that, Sokka stood and took your hand to pull you along with him. You blushed.

“Only if you make us some,” Toph crossed her arms and blocked your way.

“Fine, Toph,” Sokka relented, but smiled as he pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Good morning, by the way. Want some more pancakes?”