“What you doing, Princess?” His voice, although no longer such a nuisance, still managed to send a jolt of electricity up her spine. Azula had theories of why that was, none that pleased her entirely, but she was still working through them.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Councilman?” She answered, not bothering to move, or opening her eyes even.
“Well, I was going to say sleeping, but given the fact that you answered me-” He left his answer inconclusive, and she just hated when he did that.
She cracked one eye open, and found herself staring at his very naked torso. She trailed up his defined chest, neck, that stupid bearded jawline, and finally his blue eyes staring back at her. She let her eyelid fall shut once more.
“Breathing exercises.” She answered plainly, and went back to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the man hovering above her.
“Interesting choice of position to do that.” He commented, and she rolled her eyes. It would seem he was not going to go away easily.
True, it was- unorthodox, to say the least- to be lounging on a chaise to practice her breathing, but she’d made her way to the training fields earlier, only to find the man in question using one of them, the snarky earthbender in another one, and the mighty Avatar meditating in the third. She hadn’t even tried to find another place, should she encounter the Waterbender, or the Kyoshi girl. The palace was vast, sure, but somehow every time her brother had his friends over, they managed to invade it all.
So she’d retreated to the only place they never went, her favourite library. Be it because she was usually there, or because Zuko had told them to avoid the room out of sympathy for her, she didn’t know, but she usually found peace here. Until now.
“So-” He dragged the word until Azula’s lips were pressed in a fine line, and she propped herself up on her elbows, to glare at the man, only to bump her head into his.
“What the fuck?” She cursed, a hand rubbing on her forehead. “What do you think you are doing?”
Azula’s eyes closed in on the tribesman sheepish face, as he too, soothed his head. He gave a grin and a shrug, and she zapped his side.
“Ouch! What was that for?” He jumped back, and rubbed at his ribs. She took the moment, and the space to sit up straighter.
“You know very well what was that for! What were you doing so close to me, are you actively looking for me to roast you, are you that bored?” Azula countered, and sent another zapp for good measure.
“Now that one was uncalled for, I’m sure!” He held his hands up, but he was chuckling, and her blood boiled. “I was just watching you so peaceful, nothing else.”
“What?” Really, what- Her brain shut off for a moment, and she cocked her head to the side, examining him, wondering if maybe all that training under the sun had fried his brain. He did seem particularly hot, his neck glistening with a fine layer of sweat.
He grinned. Fuck, she was staring again.
“You heard me alright Princess, I was admiring your lovely, peaceful features.” He said, more confidently this time. She frowned, he really was pushing it now.
A zapp. “Hey!” Another. “Wait!” She stood and swiped him off his feet. “Ouch, I’m telling the truth!” Another zapp. “La, you’re insane.” She pressed a knee to his chest. “Damn it, Azula!”
She stilled, and her eyes closed unwittingly at the sound of her name on his lips. Agni, it had felt too good for her liking. Her knee pressed harder into his chest, and a hand closed around her ankle. Azula’s eyes snapped open, the blue on the other side was sparkling, teasing.
“Is that all?” He asked, and his fingers pressed a little tighter on her skin.
“Stop it.” Her voice, meant to be threatening, commanding, came out almost in a sigh, and she took a breath before trying again. “Stop. All of it.”
He moved his hand upwards, softly over her calf, and behind her knee, pulling her leg to the side, making her fall to straddle him instead. She stopped breathing.
Azula wasn’t sure how long it was, until either moved again, but she was very aware of the way his eyes had darkened, and his chest was heaving underneath her. Finally, it was him who broke the silence.
“You are ruthless, Princess.” His words were soft, controlled, but his hand was now up her thigh, and she was hating every second of loving it. “I’ll get some nasty bruises from this. Do you really think that’s the way to treat your guests?”
She wanted to slap him, zapp him again, pull at his hair, run her nails down his chest- So very carefully, as to not betray her own movements, Azula put her hands on each side of him, and moved down his body, until she was facing the already pink marks on his chest.
She looked up at him, his breathing was wild, and his eyes more so, and she felt her body burn under his gaze. Slowly, so very slowly, Azula kissed one of the marks. His breath caught on his throat, and she smiled to the skin, before moving to the next, and then one more. He tried to grip on her wrist, but she swatted him away, and moved further down, to the last one, just above the pants’ waist.
Azula blew hot air on the wound, and the tribesman moaned, a deep and ragged sound that coursed through her body, and made her core vibrate with it.
“There.” She said standing up, and the way he looked up at her was worth every piece of gold in the nation. “Now you’ll get all better.”
She turned to leave, and he called after her, scrambling to get up, but she held up her fingers in a threat.
“But-” His eyes were pleading, his whole body was, and he seemed to be searching for something to make her stay. “But, you missed a spot. I’ll get a bump.” He whined, and pointed at his forehead.
She smirked. Oh no, there was no way she was doing that, being so close to his lips was far to dangerous, she knew it.
“That’s rough, Councilman.” Azula shrugged, and left the room, the groan that followed her out made up for the rest of the happy gang’s stay.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
In which a home-cooked meal leads to an accidental confession
Words: 2,404 ︱ Chapters: 1/1 ︱ Language: English
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime & Manga)
Relationship: Kamo Noritoshi/Zenin Mai
Characters: Zenin Mai, Kamo Noritoshi
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Curses (Jujutsu Kaisen), Accidental Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, (i think), (yeah I'm pretty sure), squid-ink spaghetti, (trust me this is important lol), inspired by my tomodachi life miis :3, kind of a forbidden romance but I don't wanna call it that lol, Self-Indulgent
Summary: She didn't want to die, she was just bored. Bored and tired.
She had done it on purpose.
When asked, she can’t really explain why.
Maybe it was for the thrill. Maybe she wanted to die.
Perhaps for attention. Perhaps she just wanted to feel something.
Anything.
Azula can soundly say that the mission had been accomplished. She had felt a lot. And sometimes she can still feel it. Phantom sensations that feel as real as when the currents had initially forked their way up her arms and over her chest. Mostly, she feels electric at night, when she is trying to sleep.
Now and then she can coax the sensation forward on a memory. She finds that she has quite a vivid memory. It had been a stormy day, humid and sticky and suffocation muggy. She had been standing on the rooftop with the wind whipping her hair about, watching the clouds roll in for two hours or so. The sky had been darker than she had seen it since childhood with intermittently flashing underbellies and thunder to accompany.
Nobody would suspect a thing.
Lightning crackled overhead in the distance.
Lightning crackled on her fingers.
And then lightning crackled through her body.
She supposes that she hadn’t put much thought into it. She had gotten an urge, had felt compelled. And she had acted. Mesmerized by the graceful arcing of her arms and the lightning that followed them. Sparks kissed her cheeks and her biceps, pinprick previews of a grand finale. She had watched her lightning charge and then she had brought her arms inward and the lightning slashed at her neck.
She had held two fingers to her head.
Her hair had stood up.
At the very last moment she had changed her mind.
Lowered her arms some.
Held those fingers level with her navel.
And she had let go.
Oh what a feeling!
So dreadful.
So invigorating.
So painful.
So sublime.
She had never felt such heat before.
Probably never will again.
Tongues of electricity had licked her up and down. Licked her all over. From her belly button outward, the lightning crept, creating cracks on her delicate skin, paths of blisters and redness. Each and every new fork came with a white hot searing. A blinding burning pain blazing each and every nerve and chi point. Her body had twitched, spasmed.
She had been dying but, Agni, she never felt so alive.
So charged. So powerful.
And then nothing.
The lightning had reached her heart…
.oOo.
Sokka pushes at her robe.
Reveals her right shoulder.
Azula holds out her arms.
The sleeves fall back, bunching at her elbows.
Sokka takes her by the wrist, lips pursed.
They’re beautiful.
The scars.
She thinks so anyways.
She can’t tell what he is thinking. But his brows are furrowed. His pointer is placed upon her wrist. He begins to trail it up, following the thickest red line. Follows it up to the bend of her arm where the sleeve rests. Finally curiosity gets the better of her. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Do you like them or not?”
Agni forbid he find them unsightly. They’ll have quite a problem then; the scars cover her almost entirely. All but her face…mostly. The longest impression of lightning branches a little past her neck, dodges her earlobe, and creeps towards the corner of her mouth.
Sokka holds her arm up and studies the back of it, turns it, laces their fingers together. And then he smiles…sort of. “I'm not sure.”
The fluttering of Azula’s stomach comes with a frown.
It shouldn’t really matter; she likes her scars, why should she care if no one else does? Nobody needs to think her good looking. Although it would be nice…
“What do you mean?”
Sokka gives a frown of his own. “Well I guess that I just don't like seeing you hurt.”
“It doesn't hurt.”
“But it did when it first happened, didn't it?”
“Sure.” She pauses. “But I liked it, Sokka. I wanted it to happen.”
“Why?”
“Why do people get tattoos and pierce their faces?” She answers with a question. But she knows that he is aware that it had been about more than that—more than an aesthetic desire.
“You weren’t trying to…”
“Kill myself> It’s fine, you can say it.” She pauses. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I don’t think so. But I guess that I didn’t care if I did die.” She trails off, looking out at the setting sun. “I think that I was bored.” Bored and tired. Tired of expectations and their weight.
“I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“Boredom?”
“Perfectionism.” She clarifies. “But I couldn’t just let it go so I…” She gestures the length of her body to her marred skin. “Took the option to be perfect away from myself.” For better or for worse. She thinks that it is for the best.
Sokka tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
Azula traces over the scars on her left arm. “Skin blemishes, freckles, scars…they're imperfections. I didn’t have any. None that couldn't be easily covered anyhow.” These days she lets sparse spray of freckles on her neck display themselves. “I can’t cover all of these scars up so I just let them be until I got used to looking at them.” Until she started seeing the beauty in them.
And then the beauty in other imperfections.
“I think that I needed to let go.” And needed to be released.
Released from her own standards and pressure. Released from perfection's pristine, polished grip. “I tried but I just couldn't let go.”
“So you shot yourself with lightning?”
“So I created imperfection.” Perhaps too much of it. Almost definitely too much. She moves away from the window and lowers herself onto the mattress. “A lot of it.” She loosens her robe and lets it fall around her wrists. She studies Sokka’s face as he studies her body.
“I thought that…”
“It was just my arms?” She quirks a brow. And she shakes her head.
He joins her on the bed, his eyes are still following the scars up from her ankle to her knee. And it occurs to her that boredom and freedom weren’t the only factors.
Assurance.
She had been seeking assurance.
She needed…needs to know that someone can still love her in spite of the imperfections.
Or because of them.
“Well?” She asks again.
“Well what?” Sokka too repeats. His eyes are fixed upon her navel where the scars are the most prominent. Their epicenter. Their heart. From where the rest of them stem out.
“You never truly answered my question. Do you find them attractive?”
“You never truly asked your question.”
Azula furrows her brows.
“You asked me if I liked them, not if I find them attractive.”
“You’re trying to dodge the question.” And in that Azula is certain that she has her answer.
“They suit you.” Sokka replies.
Which is really not the same as beauty. Although she supposes that there is a strange comfort in him not finding them beautiful. A strange comfort in knowing that he finds something else about her beautiful. “It’s fine, Sokka. If you don’t.”
The statement hangs there for a very long time before Sokka finally begins to chuckle. “You really like to read too much into things, don’t you?”
Azula frowns. “I wouldn’t say that I enjoy overthinking. It’s simply something that I do now and then.”
“Now and then?” He laughs harder. “More like all the time! The scars suit you and that’s what makes them attractive. One of the things that does. They’re different and they stand out.”
“And you like that?” She slips one of her sleeves back over her shoulder and then the other. She begins to pull the fabric back over her abdomen. “You’re not done staring, are you?”
Sokka shakes his head and extends his pointer. She takes him by the wrist and guides that finger along the most prominent of the lightning lines. The one that rises from her belly button to her sternum. “Isn’t that why you like your scars; because they’re bold and striking?”
Azula nods.
“Then why do you care what I think of them.”
She shrugs.
“It’s not just about the scars and physical imperfections, is it?”
She shakes her head. “It never is.”
He sits himself upright again, fixes her with a soft smile, and cups her cheek. “Even if I though that they were ugly I’d be here. I didn’t fall in love with you for your looks.”
“You have a way with words, Sokka. You truly know how to flatter a lady.”
Sokka’s cheeks light up. I didn’t…no…I mean…it’s not like that! I didn’t mean it like that!”
Azula gives him a small laugh. “I know.”
Sokka sighs.
“Carry on.”
“I fell in love with you for…” he trails off. “For this.”
“This?”
“Moments like this. And for…” He taps her forehead.
“My mind? Agni, that is unfortunate for you.”
“Your wit, your sarcasm, your ability to be deliberately obtuse.” He pauses. “For all of it together. The scars are a neat little bonus.”
And her own cheeks flush ever so lightly. “So you do think that they’re beautiful then?”
He nods. And that means the world to her. The world and more. Because now she has some tangible proof to hold her ground with when her inner voice gets to telling her that nobody can love her if she isn’t perfect all the time.
He lays her flat against the mattress and his hand flat against the scar on her belly. “Of course I do.”
He lays himself down next to her.
Somewhere in the distance, far off, near Ember Island storm clouds roll in and thunder rolls. Lightning cuts across the sky.
In the very heart of Caldera City lightning never ceases but the storm has passed.
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