summary ☞ Steve’s girlfriend leaves their home for a few hours for a hair appointment, and when she returns she finds her house invaded by the party, trying to fix up a mere chair.
word count ☞ 1.5k
warnings ☞ fluff, set in s5, el lives, background byler, lucas got sass, steve is downbad but we love him, guardians of the galaxy mention, the party is chaotic
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. it was my first ever steve fic, be nice! leave a comment and a reblog!
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine, @cafekitsune
“I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay love?”
Her words went completely unnoticed by her boyfriend, currently sitting on the carpet trying to fix the broken chair, an opened toolbox beside him and various hand tools she didn't care enough to name scattered around him. He had fallen– hard, she might add– on his ass when he took a seat on it that morning, and he had been trying and successfully failing to repair it since then.
Ironic how he could keep up with a demogorgon and a whole ass disgusting and slimy version of Groot armed with only a nailed bat, but could not fix up a chair for the love of god.
With his head bent down to inspect whatever damage was on the wooden leg, eyebrows furrowed as if he was solving a second degree equation, and his gorgeous hair falling over his focused brown eyes, he looked ridiculous. Ridiculously handsome. And so ridiculously hers.
Nothing was gonna distract him from his mission to restore his damaged ego and the chance to prove his manliness. And so, with a fond look in her eyes she shook her head at the sight of her boyfriend and headed outside, the door clicking softly behind her.
Steve’s complete unawareness of his surroundings wasn't necessarily a negative thing. It allowed her to grab his car keys undisturbed without him looking up not even of an inch. The roar of his dear BMW that she had kindly borrowed without an explicit consent went over his head, like it was just another background noise. But oh well, given how he had been glued to the same spot on the living room’s carpet all morning, by the time she'd come back he'll still be tinkering with screwdrivers and hammers.
As expected, she had been right once again.
When she pulled on the driveway an hour and a half later, she could make out his brown mop of hair peeking from behind the curtains, in the same spot she had left him when she left the house. A sigh escaped her lips, fondly rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s stubborn antics with a soft chuckle. Same old Steve.
She killed the engine and grabbed her bag, placing it on her thighs. Lowering the sun–blocker with her lipgloss in hand, she quickly touched up her makeup and fluffled her fresh out–of–salon hair. Eyes focused on her reflection in the small mirror in front of her, she rubbed her lipgloss–coated lips together, wrapping up the motion with a smacking sound. And when she was satisfied with her appearance, she flashed a last smile at her reflection and stepped out of the red BMW, walking up to the front door with spring in her step.
She could not wait to see Steve's reaction to her new hairstyle. What would he think? Would he like it? Love it? Would he even notice?
She stepped inside, hanging her coat and leaving her bag at the entrance. “Love? I’ve got a surprise for you!”, she called out with a big smile on her face, reaching for the living room’s door handle.
The sight she was met with when she twisted it and spread the door open left her baffled. Mike and Will were reading out loud instructions on a piece of paper on the couch. Max, Lucas and El were rummaging through the toolbox in search of who–knows–what. Dustin was beside Steve, busy trying to stick back together the chair, while Robin was rambling by the table.
However, everything quieted down when she appeared by the door. All eyes were on her; some confused, some greeting her. While one stare in particular was glued to her form.
Steve. Still sat criss–crossed on the carpet, he was looking up at her with his jaw slack and his big brown eyes widened with just as big hearts inside. His hair was messy, and she immediately knew he had been running his hand through it while huffing with his cute little pout.
Dustin broke him out of his trance, glancing at him with confusion. “Dude, are you okay?”
Steve quickly nodded, throat bobbing while his eyes were still on her. “Yeah, totally fine”, he replied distracted.
“Nah man, we thought she had broken you for a second there”, spoke up Lucas.
“Is it because she cut her hair?”, asked El smiling lightly, innocent as ever.
“As if he'd noticed!”, scoffed from the couch Mike, sitting snugly beside Will, their hands intertwined together.
“Please. He's not called ‘Steve the Hair Harrington’ just because of his chest hair”, said Robin with a teasing smile, leaning on the table.
The comment lit their spirits, and the living room was turned into a chaotic mass of teenagers chatting and arguing over Steve’s chest hair. That definitely left her even more baffled than before.
However Steve didn't seem affected by the discussion going on about him, at all. He put aside the screwdriver, not even caring to put it back inside the toolbox, and got onto his feet. In only two strides, he crossed the living room and stood in front of her, the loveliest smile tugging at his lips.
“Baby”, he whispered over the loud chatter, hands reaching out to cup her face as if she was made of pure gold. “You look… Is it even possible for me to have fallen in love more with you?”, he mumbled with adoration glittering in his big eyes.
His words only made her cheeks and ears get covered by a pink dust of blush. “I love you too, Stevie”, she muttered back, her own grin tugging on her shiny lips.
“You cut your hair, huh? You didn't tell me?”
“It's a surprise, baby. 'Couldn't tell you”, she replied smiling up at him through her fresh bangs, her hands resting comfortably on his shoulders.
“You look gorgeous, baby. Bangs really suit you well”, he muttered under his breath as leaned in for a kiss. His lips softly brushed her, just to feel her close to him, to relish in the feeling of having his girlfriend melted in his arms.
Her grin lit up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, leaning up to leave another lingering kiss to his soft lips.
“Get a room, dude! Your house's full of 'em!”, suddenly complained Lucas, a devilish smirk on his face as he said so.
Steve begrudgingly broke away from his girlfriend with a groan and turned around, hands flying to rest on his hips by habit to glare at the group of kids– plus Robin, but he guessed he could count her in– wiggling their eyebrows at them.
“Thanks for your helpful insight, Sinclair. Get back to your own girlfriend now, yes?”
Mike snickered from his spot beside Will, and his glare immediately fell upon him, making his smile drop in a matter of seconds. “You shut up, Wheeler”
“What the hell, Harrington?”
“Should I remind you of the time when you were staring at Byers jr like a puppy in love while an alien world was falling on our heads?”
“It's called Abyss, man” corrected Dustin under his breath.
“What are you doing here anyway, guys?”, asked she, coming to stand beside Steve, who immediately melted and pulled her into his side.
“Uh… Back up?”, answered Dustin after a few pregnant seconds.
She burst out chuckling, looking between him and Steve, who looked like he was sweating cold. “... Yeah, back up”, he echoed, chuckling uncertain.
“Back up? To fix a chair?”, she asked again, amusement swirling freely on her glowing face.
“... Yeah?”, he cringed at himself. “I know it sounds stupid, but I swear that goddamn chair is making it difficult on purpose!”, he exclaimed to preserve his ego.
“Yeah, sure it does, Stevie”, she smiled up at him teasingly before crouching down next to the chair missing one leg. She held up the leg and inspected it quietly for a few seconds. Then, she hummed and turned to El with a hand reached out. “Pass me the hammer, please?”
Albeit a tad confused, she did as she was asked and placed the tool in her outstretched manicured hand. She thanked her and picked up a nail, holding it in place against the chair. Done that, she tightened her hold on the hammer and planted the nail like it was nothing.
“Here, all done”, she said with a satisfied sigh, passing the tool back to El with a grateful nod. Everyone was staring at her like she had just grown enormous muscles and superpowers.
“How– What the fuck?”, sputtered out Lucas, the other nodding along.
“You guys didn't try nailing it?”
“We opted to adopt more scientific means, that's all”, said Dustin, trying to save face.
She rolled her eyes fondly and got up, dusting her jeans with a delighted hum. Robin snorted, her arms crossed on her chest, “I might steal your girl, dingus”
summary ☞ When one of the girliest daughters of Aphrodite goes to Luke for a sparring lesson, everyone was left baffled. Even Luke himself.
word count ☞ 1.2k+
warnings ☞ fluff, reader is a stereotypical aphrodite daughter, a lot of petnames, luke hasn't betrayed camp, he's smooth af
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. i remember it being inspired by a prompt i found on here. #1 luke defender (if they wanted us to hate him, they shouldn't have casted charlie)
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine , @cafekitsune
No one was surprised, really.
When the best swordsman in all Camp had completely fallen for a daughter of Aphrodite, no one really wondered why.
She was drop–dead gorgeous. Many murmured that she looked like the carbon copy of her mother. But then again, did one know exactly how Aphrodite looked? Her appearance shifted to match the ideal of beauty in the eyes of the person looking at her. Therefore, saying she resembled the Goddess of love, was not correct.
That, however, did not discredit her beauty. She still was one of the most beautiful girls in Camp Half–Blood, second only to Silena Beauregard.
Campers were, in spite of that, left speechless when said Aphrodite camper had approached Luke Castellan himself to teach her the art of sword fighting. It was a rather unusual sight. Children of the Goddess of Beauty did not preoccupy themselves with Camp activities that didn't include Art and Crafts or volleyball matches. They were more the type to sit in the Arena, often found giggling and staring shamelessly at particularly attractive boys training in combat.
Luke had agreed to help almost immediately, a proud grin overtaking his features, softening his face and scar.
That is how he had found himself waiting for her in the Arena, two swords laying ready by his side, tightening and fixing his combat gear for what seemed an eternity. In the time span in which Luke had been waiting for her, he had run his hand through his hair at least ten times and kicked the same rock to the point he had lost count of how many times he'd done it.
What was holding her? What was making her late? He had been waiting for a good hour!
‘Fucking finally’, he had muttered under his breath when he spotted her figure approaching the Arena as calmly as she could. He narrowed his eyes, catching sight of her… Perhaps not so appropriate outfit? She was wearing combat boots, a skirt, and a white tank top.
“You sure about the skirt, lovely?”, he called while eyeing her entering the ground, a slight smirk pulling on his lips. “Bit impractical, no?”.
“Man of little faith”, she huffed when she got to him. “It is impractical if you're not a skirt–super–expert”, she said while crossing her arms over chest, in an obvious tone.
“A what, now?”, he looked at her incredulously. Gods, she was gorgeous, and apparently even witty. He's so down bad.
“A skirt–super–expert”, she repeated another time. “See, Castellan, you don't even know of this term because you're not one!”
“Yeah, right”, he rolled his eyes affectionately. He sighed and threw a leather chest piece at her. “Put it on, super–duper–girlie”, he nodded at her.
“Yes, sir!”, she smiled up brightly at him, tying up the laces behind her back. “So… You often give extra lessons to girls, Hermes boy?”
“Only to the ones I'm interested in”, he replied, grinning lightly and got behind her, helping her with the task at hand.
“Oi! I'm capable of doing it on my own, you know?”, she protested playfully.
“Yeah, but then I couldn't have been this close to you, no?”, he made a last knot and rested his hands on her waist for a few seconds before stepping away and picking up the swords, passing her one.
“You know the basics, right?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Of course! Timing, distance, caution blah blah blah. Can we get to the sparring part already?”, she huffed impatiently.
Luke sized her up for a few seconds, eventually surrendering and nodding. “As you wish, my pretty lady”
He got into a fighting stance, watching her mimicking him, holding her sword confidently in front of her face.
“Ready?”, she asked bubbly.
“Born ready, lovely”
Sounds of swords clashing could be heard from a mile away.
Luke had to admit she was good. Better than he'd ever thought. She was able to stand her ground, however wobbly and imprecise her moves were.
That, though, didn't mean he was having a hard time blocking her attacks. He was almost playing it safe, as if not to hurt her feelings by disarming her within the first second of the combat.
He had already figured out what was wrong in her style, and was dying to let her know it.
As soon as he saw an opportunity, he slashed her sword, twisting it out of her hand, disarming her impressively easily and pointing his at her neck, a smug look reigned over his face.
“Not a super–sword–expert, are you?”, he muttered while leaning closer, breath fanning over her face.
“Oh, shut up”, she rolled her eyes, despite the ever–growing grin painting her lipgloss coated lips. She took a few steps back and went to retrieve back her scattered sword, pushing away from her face some stray strands of hair that managed to escape her tail.
However, Luke's eyes didn't waver. They were still on her. Picking up on every little quirk and way of hers. Dreaming of touching her hair, holding her close to him, being the one she'd come to for her problems or her favourite things. Did all that make him a lovesick fool? Everyone at Camp who knew of his blatant attraction called him that nowadays. Was it necessarily a negative thing?
“While you were studying the blade, I was studying you, lovely”, he spoke up. Eyes trained on her, dark hair imperceptibly damp from the efforts of fighting, the scar across his face looking more like an award than a burden.
She turned to him, tilting her head slightly as her face brightened almost immediately. “That's so out of the blue, Castellan”, she teased.
“You're weak on your left side, and your footwork could use improvement”, he continued speaking, sword still tightly held in his right hand.
Her smile widened, eyes shining a tad more as he corrected her form. “Great. I'll make sure to work on tha–”
“–Also, I think I've fallen in love with you”, he interrupted her mid–sentence. Not caring if he had been too straightforward with his confession. Well, he had already been very clear with his feelings, right? He had flirted with her for the whole duration of the combat.
Despite all that, his words had taken her by surprise. She was staring right back at him, lips slightly agape in what could be confused for shock, and arms by her side.
A few seconds later, she was back to herself, beaming like her father had just gifted her designer clothes.
“You think so?”
“Indeed, lovely”, he replied with a genuine smile taking over his features.
“If that's the case…”, she stepped closer to him, and rested her hand on his shoulder, proceeding to leave a quick peck on his lips before dropping the sword on the ground. She flashed him a last smile before definitely turning and walking away, probably headed to her cabin to tell her siblings of the events.
Luke, having made sure she was far away enough, threw his sword in celebration. The clashing sound only adding to the myriads of emotions and sounds occupying his mind.
“Yep. Down bad”, piped up Percy from behind him, holding Riptide in one hand and a bag of blue gummies in the other.
“Indeed, buddy. Indeed”, had confirmed Luke, a new confident air around him.
Percy stared at him for a while before nodding to his bag of gummies, “want one?”
summary ☞ During their time in Ba Sing Se, Zuko is forced to work in a tea shop while his uncle lives his best life surrounded by herbs. However, he didn't expect for their cover to be blown when a Fire Nation girl unexpectedly walked in, and for his heart to leap up at her sight.
word count ☞ 2.8k+
warnings ☞ fluff, set into book two, lee junior should have its own warning, zuko is awkward and doesn't know how to flirt to save his life, iroh jumps in and plays matchmaker.
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. lee from the teashop should have its own warning. remember, make tea not war
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine, @cafekitsune
Zuko did not like his current situation. And he did not like tea. Much less working in a tea shop.
Unfortunately for him, though, it was necessary. He and his uncle were refugees in Ba Sing Se, they had to earn the bare minimum to survive, in order to live decently and not as savages. Their house was in the Lower Ring, he wasn't used to living in such conditions. He was a prince!
Zuko was already a broody boy, never seen not frowning or complaining under his breath. Not to mention the foolish cover name his uncle had oh so kindly given him.
Lee Junior. Lee Jr. That's such a plain name! Everyone in the damned Earth Kingdom was called Lee! He knew he couldn't use his own name, but couldn't his uncle come up with a better name? Ugh.
Ugh. That's Zuko's mindset whenever he put foot in the tea shop and tied the stupid apron. He didn't get where his uncle’s hype for tea came. At the end of the day, tea was just hot leaf juice. Nothing less, nothing more. However, he didn't dare to repeat it with Iroh around. Last time he had the audacity to say it, the wise man had fully gone mental, yelling how “a member of my own family could say something so horrible!”.
He had got used to working at the Jasmine Dragon, though. It was a matter of time, after all. Just needed time to settle in and get the hang of it all. Sweeping the floor, taking orders, serving the clients. At that point, it was more of a routine. His thoughts never lingered much on the clients. Why would he? Most of the customers were old women, merchants and overall adults. Everyone had the same characteristic green eyes, olive skin and brown hair. Nothing caught his attention. Until that day.
Zuko was busy tending to a kind old lady, putting her cup of rose tea and slice of pie in front of her, offering her a distracted smile. A bell ringing sound got to his ears, coming from the entrance to signal a new costumer. He had immediately felt something in the air, he could feel something out of the ordinary in the air, his instincts told him so. It was… Familiar, in some way?
He then turned to face the entrance, taken aback when he was met with the lovely face of a girl, seemingly around his age. Her age wasn't what caught his interest, though. It was her eyes. Her appearance.
The first thing he noticed were her eyes. That strangely resembled his. He was mesmerised by her eyes, her golden eyes. The purest gold poured in her irises, the sweetest honey made from the most delicate flowers.
Golden eyes that hid a repressed flame.
He was left frozen in his place. Eyes and mind not able to avert from her eyes. Eyes that were not like anyone else's. How could they attract him so much? Why did he feel such a pull towards them? What was this force telling him to drown in that gold sea?
He was taken back to reality by the kind lady speaking up, mirth dancing freely in her eyes marked by age, a knowing look in them. “She's such a flower, isn't she? Reminds me of a flower my gran used to gift me from her trips to Fire Nation... I can't seem to remember the name, though… Ah, being old is not for the weak, young man”, she had said in a motherly voice, of someone who had lived their life to the fullest and dedicated it to the family.
“Fire Lily”, he had blurted out, still a bit dazed by the intensity of the girl's eyes.
“Ah, yes, yes! That was the name! Fire Lily. Oh, such a rare beauty…”, she added in a nostalgic tone.
While the old lady reminisced in memories long gone, Zuko followed the golden eyed girl to an empty table with his attentive gaze. With a newfound confidence, he reached for his notebook in the apron's pocket, taking long strides to her table.
When he stopped in front of her, she looked up from Jasmin Dragon's menu, eyes resting on his face for a few seconds before averting to his left eye. When she laid eyes on his scar, her whole face seemed to lit up, like a flower relishing in the sunlight, recognition dancing in her expression.
“Prince Zu—!”, she started, whispering in utter belief, her mind not understanding what the banished Prince of Fire Nation was doing in a tea shop in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se.
Zuko widened his eyes momentarily, and promptly covered her mouth with his hand to avoid letting her finish her sentence.
‘How does she know me? Bad Sing Se shouldn't have recent information about Fire Nation. They don't even know about the war! Is she…’, he theorised in his head.
When he was sure the wide–eyed girl wouldn't blabber anymore and had relatively calmed down, only then he removed his hand, subtly glancing around to make sure no one had seen their interaction.
“I'm Lee, and I'll be serving you today. What can I get you?”, he asked with a pointed look, telling her to drop the matter.
Still reeling from seeing him, she nodded absentmindedly and muttered fascinated her order. “Uh… A Jasmine tea and a slice of, uh, strawberry cake. Please”
He nodded and headed to the kitchen to give Iroh the order. Once he was inside, he shut the door and rushed to approach his uncle.
“Uncle! Uncle!”, he whispered–yelled with urgency.
Iroh had a serene smile on his face, calmly pouring the Jasmine leaves in two cups of steaming water. Once he was done, he set the cups aside and turned to his nephew.
“What's troubling you, Zuko?”, he asked with his usual wise tone.
“Uncle, there's a Fire Nation girl! She recognised me!”, he told him, sure that his uncle would understand the gravity of the situation.
“Oh, how lovely! I must get a look at such a beautiful girl”, Iroh’s smile widened.
“She could rat us out— Wait, beautiful? I—I never said she was pretty”
“My dear nephew, your mouth may have not, but your eyes speak louder”, he said with a teasing light in his eyes. “And the pink hue on your cheeks tells me otherwise, too”, he elbowed Zuko lightly.
Iroh then placed a steaming cup of Jasmine tea and a plate of strawberry cake, passing it to Zuko.
“Now go and serve that lovely girl. She'll appreciate your kindness, I'm sure”, he smiled widely.
Zuko, still slightly blushing, took the tray from his uncle and turned around to head to the tearoom. He heard his uncle gasping and rushing to him with a strawberry in hand, placing it on top of the cake with a teasing wink.
Zuko blushed more and rolled his eyes at his uncle’s antics, and headed out for good this time.
He approached her table with steady steps, knuckles turning white with the strength he was gripping the tray and glare fixed on her face. Once he got in front of her, he placed the tray on the small wooden table with a thud, almost spilling the yellow tea.
She looked up and locked eyes with him. Gold on gold. Honey on honey. For a second time, he felt that sensation of warmth, of wanting to drown in those eyes and never get out.
He didn't know who she was. Didn't have a name. She was surrounded by a cloud of glittering mystery. But she was Fire Nation, wasn't she?
“Here”, he said curtly.
“Thanks, Lee”, she smiled up at him, a knowing look evident on her face.
He nodded, not trusting his voice to come out steady.
“You know, uh… You're free later?”, she asked hopefully.
His mind stopped working altogether. He stayed on his spot, silent, speechless, frozen. She was left answerless, gazing up at him with confusion written all over her face, lips pulled in a slight smile. She was about to add something else when Iroh exited the kitchen and saved his nephew from further humiliation.
“Oh, my nephew was not exaggerating when he told me a beauty that could rival every flower was our costumer!”, he complimented her. “I'm Mushi, my flower lady”
She smiled brightly, thriving under such compliments thrown her way. “Your tea is merely the best I've ever tasted, General”
Iroh blushed, glad. “Oh, finally someone who appreciates the delicate art of tea!”
Zuko rolled his eyes at his uncle’s subtle jab at him, but Iroh only smiled wider.
“Would you bless us with your presence at dinner tonight? I make a fine roasted duck”
She smiled at the invitation, sneaking a look at Zuko before nodding. “I must accept such a kind offer”
On the other hand, Zuko was panicking internally. She? In their house? Absolutely out of the question. He was not ready to have her so close to him. And what if she was sent by Azula to turn them in? But Iroh seemed to ignore every panicked glance he was giving him, and assured her that Zuko would accompany her to their house after their shift.
He sneaked a glance at her, and noticed her smiling warmly at him, the fire once reprimed in her irises, was now burning free, inviting him in. His raging heart had calmed down significantly, mind stopping spiralling altogether. He found himself not so anxious about having her over anymore.
What if she wasn't a threat? If she was just another refugee, to whom was presented a chance to escape the horrors of their mother country, and took it whole–heartedly. Perhaps she was just a scared girl, all alone in the biggest city of the Earth Kingdom.
While Iron had long returned to their house, Zuko had to stay overtime to clean the tables and floor.
To say he was exhausted was an understatement. He was a Prince, he wasn't used to all this cleaning stuff. He had maids in his palace who cleaned after him.
After the last table was spotless, he took a relieved sigh and headed to the door, already wishing for the day to be over. But once he locked the door behind him, he was met with those eyes that had such a force over him staring back at him.
“We're closing”, he said curtly, confused as to why she was standing in front of the tea shop.
“I know. You're supposed to walk me to your flat, remember? Your Uncle invited me to dinner”
Upon hearing that, Zuko wanted to facepalm himself for forgetting their dinner. “Yeah, uh, right. Follow me, I guess…”
She chuckled under her breath and fell in step with him, arms brushing from time to time. They walked in silence, the only sounds being the occasional bird chirping and some kids playing in the distance. Until he decided he had enough of that awkwardness and broke the ice between them, blurting out what had plagued his mind since the first time he saw her.
“You’re Fire Nation”, he stated simply.
Her lips lifted in a small amused smile, “So are you”
He turned to her, both staring at each other without saying anything. Just… Observing.
“You're the Banished Prince”, she said out of the blue, mimicking his earlier tone.
“... I am”, he admitted. “Did Azula send you to taunt me?”
“No”, she stated simply, smiling carelessly.
“… Okay”, he narrowed his eyes slightly.
“You don't sound so sure. Look, if that was my intention, I wouldn't have tried to ask you out, no?”
His eyes widened, almost comically, halting in his steps. “When did you do that?”
She returned his shocked face, just more incredulous than stunned. “Earlier? Before the General interrupted us? Come on, I literally asked you if you were free!”
“Oh…”, he said while trying to get back to that memory. “That was you asking me out?”
She burst into a fit of giggles, looking as radiant as the morning sun, sounding like the flowery wind of mid–spring. “You haven't got any experience with girls, huh?”
Seeing her so carefree around him, he allowed himself to smile too, pouting slightly at her incessant laughter.
“Hey, stop laughing. I'm your Prince, you're my subject”, he complained with a playful smile painting his face.
She tried composing herself, straightening her back and holding back her chuckles. “No, you're right. I'm sorry, Your Highness. I shouldn't have been so inconsiderate of your feelings”, she played along with a solemn voice.
Their walk was now filled with laughter and flowing with easy conversation, almost as if they weren't strangers to each other. And most importantly, his doubts regarding her had subsided completely, forgotten in the back of his mind.
After their walk under the soft silver light of the Moon, he wasn't worried about how dinner with her would go.
On the contrary, it had gone pretty smoothly. Iroh, true to his word, had managed to cook a real delicacy, and his tea was beyond the shadow of a doubt the better. ‘The best she had ever tasted, even back in the Fire Nation’, she had flattered Iroh.
Despite the occasional teasing comment or glance from Iroh, Zuko had to admit she was pretty nice. And pretty beautiful. She had enchanted him, put some kind of spell on him. And his uncle, as wise and nosy in his nephew's love life as he was, had to trick him into asking her to take a stroll out. He had no escape from it, not when her eyes met his with so much joy in them. Not when those hopeful and star–struck eyes were reserved for his eyes only.
Therefore, he grabbed a cloak for the both of them and draped it on her shoulders when they were met with the chilly wind of sunset. They walked in silence, only the echoes of their steps on the stone floor of the streets as their background music.
He had to confess, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. With her face bathing in the pink–red light, features sharpening but seeming even softer, his cloak swallowing her body and shielding her from the wind, she was a jewel.
A flower. The most beautiful, the most delicate, the kind that bloomed once in a lifetime, but was worth every year of waiting from how angelic it was.
His train of admiration thoughts was broken the moment he felt the soft skin of her hand shyly reaching out for his own, interlocking only their pinkies together, almost as if holding his hand was too much for her.
He turned to watch her, the softest smile to ever come from him adorning his face. She felt his stare, and reciprocated his stare, cheeks a light pink from her action.
No words were spoken between them, they weren't needed. However, that bounding silence was broken by a fit of laughter, floating in the air like a cherry petal on a soothing morning.
His laughter followed her shortly after, blending perfectly together, two notes on a dramyin.
After their chuckling faded, both were left with a glittery light in their hearts, like a little sun warming their bodies from inside out. That sensation made a wave of courage flow over Zuko, telling him to proclaim his infatuation with her.
So that's what he did.
“I'm in love with your eyes”, he said sincerely, standing in front of her, taking her hands in his and squeezing them lightly.
His words made her blush, the pink colour seeming darker with the sunset shining on her like a ray of love. “As I am with yours”, she muttered back, shyly looking up at him through her eyelashes.
His hands left her hands, coming to rest on her cheeks, holding her face like one’d do with a delicate Fire Lily.
“Every time I lay eyes on them, I never want to look away. It'd physically hurt me to do so. I feel like I could drown into them”, he whispered in utter admiration, his lips only a few inches away from hers.
He waited for a few excruciating seconds before finally letting his lips brush against her pink ones. All he could think about was how her lips tasted of jasmine tea, a flavour he could get addicted to. The atmosphere around them felt serene, calm, like an afternoon in spring.
He reluctantly broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers, gaze fixed on hers, golden eyes meeting with golden eyes.
“I would love it if you were to ask me to be your girlfriend, my Prince”, she muttered with a small smile playing on her lips.
“I'll make sure to do that when the time is right, my flower”, he answered with the same low tone.
Working in his uncle's tea shop wasn't so bad, after all.
summary ☞ Two Azula's? Wasn't one enough already? The Gaang is not exactly overjoyed, except for Sokka, who somehow was able to embarrass himself two seconds in their first meeting.
word count ☞ 4.9k+
warnings ☞ fluff, use of yn, set into book three, reader is azula's twin, katara is a bit prissy and clearly doesn't like reader, sokka is so awkward and amazing, ursa mention
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. i love myself a good azula's twin fic, and it's even better i wrote it myself! tell me what you liked in the comments, and leave a reblog! pt2
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine, @cafekitsune
To be fair, YN was mistaken for her twin sister on a daily basis.
Same sharp features, same calculating golden eyes that seemed to scrutinise every single lie and sin hiding in the deepest depth of your soul. However, that is bound to happen when you're an identical twin.
Although everything about her screamed ‘Azula’, her mother had always said she looked somewhat softer, more kind and less intimidating than her sister. Insisted that her soul was softer than Azula’s, that yes, they were identical in appearance and personality, but she wasn't as destructive and cruel as her older twin sister.
That's why she had no reaction when the team avatar, plus her older brother, immediately went into a fighting stance at her sight, standing a few meters before them, on the warm sand of the beach. Despite the risk of getting attacked any time soon, she stood tall. Shoulders rolled back, back straight and chin held high, like the proper princess she was raised to be.
Her eyes however stayed fixed on the figure of her brother, eyebrows furrowed as a frown painted her rosy lips. All without ruining her regal face.
She had traveled from Capital City to her family house in Ember Island, lying to her father and sister about the destination and real motives behind her will to travel. She had taken her most trusted men with her to help her get safely to her destination, who she knew would not tell her father her whereabouts, and traveled for a whole day on an airship. She was not going to accept this kind of welcoming.
“Zuko”, she said simply, gaze still locked on him.
Before he could form a sentence, Sokka had abruptly took off in a run towards her, boomerang at hand, trained and ready to be thrown. She moved her unbothered gaze from her brother to the wolf-knot guy running wildly towards her. Before he could actually throw his boomerang, she flicked her hand, blue flames circling her to prevent him getting any closer.
“Could you… Stop?”, she asks the blue–clad boy, a perfect shaped eyebrow raising.
“Yeah, Sokka, stop!”, hissed the other blue–clad girl with the silly hairstyle.
“Not without fighting!”, he insisted, waving his boomerang in the air in what he thought was an intimidating way.
She glanced at Zuko, feeling mildly confused and unsure of what to do. He answered with a glare, fists still raised, at the ready to firebend. “Azula, what are you doing here? How did you manage to find us?”, he asked firmly, almost angry.
She raises both her eyebrows, lips parted in a small ‘o’, hand dramatically over her heart. “Zuzu”, she starts, eyes widened in shock, her words dripped with sarcasm, a sharp and cutting edge to her tone.
“How can you? I'm outraged! I feel deeply wronged, if you must know. Mistaking us, ugh”, she scoffs. “And here I thought I was your favourite sister”, she crossed her arms over her chest, hair flipping over her shoulder as she turned her head aside, a pout forming on her face.
“I–”, tried to reason the scarred boy, but was interrupted by a very confused Aang.
“Favourite? You have more than one sister?”, asked incredulously the bald kid, gaze flicking over the two royals like he was following a ping pong ball.
“I– It's complicated–”
“How can it be complicated!–”
“Aang, please”, glared Zuko, frustration surging up inside him. He then turned to glare at his youngest sister. “And you! Stop throwing a tantrum! How can you expect me to tell you apart when you and Azula are identical! Your attitude isn't really helping me either!”
She let out a soft scoff, head turning to him nonetheless, a frown plastered on her face. Her brows knitted together. “This wasn't how I imagined my welcome…”, she murmured bitterly.
“Come again?”, raised an eyebrow Zuko, obviously annoyed.
“Nothing”, she mumbled, her head hanging low, playing with the hem of her long sleeves.
Zuko studied her carefully, eyes narrowed and examining everything about her, down to the smallest and insignificant detail. Only when he was sure he was not in the presence of Azula, did he let out a sigh and relaxed his stance, signalling the Gaang to follow his example with a careless wave of his hand.
Sokka’s eyes widened comically, mouth hanging open. “Are you mental, Zuko? She's Fire Nation! She's the enemy! You said your sister was a dangerous psychopath! And, honestly, I experienced it firsthand”
“I– She's not Azula, Sokka. She's YN, my… younger sister. Azula’s twin. She's harmless”, he explained resignedly.
“‘Azula’ and ‘harmless’ don't, can't go into the same sentence! Precisely because she's her twin, I'm not putting down my weapon! She must be as evil as Azula!”, Sokka responded.
“What my brother meant, is that I can kick ass, but I'm not going to kick yours. Or any of yours, for that matter”, she sneered at him and then at the rest of the team Avatar.
“How can we trust her?”, spoke up Katara, glaring daggers at the princess.
“Do you trust me?”, asked her Zuko.
Katara’s glare moved over to Zuko. “No”
Zuko let out a defeated sigh, while his sister snickered behind her hand.
Katara's glare pierced through her, however, the princess didn't feel intimidated at all. She stared back at Katara with an amused grin on her face.
“Firebenders like her killed my mother”
To that, the fifteen year old princess raised an eyebrow, looking even more amused than before. “Is she seriously blaming me for a murder that took place when I probably was only a child?”
Aang then took a step forward, lowering his staff. “I trust you, Zuko. If you say she won't be a problem, then that is. Besides, she had all the time in the world to attack us”
“Must be part of an act”, sneered Katara.
“Katara”, reprimanded her Aang.
“Zuko’s telling the truth. She's not going to attack us”, confirmed Toph.
“The blind girl's clever”, grinned the Fire Nation Princess.
“You’re irritating”, frowned Toph, to which she widened her grin and shrugged.
After a bickering that lasted what seemed to be forever, the Gaang led her inside the lounge room, like she didn't know how to get there by herself.
Each took a seat at the table placed in the centre of the room, glancing at her as she stepped inside the room. She moved forward with gentle yet confident strides. Her body language hinted at confidence, every step oozing self-assuredness. She took her seat beside her brother, posture as perfect as ever, the traditional Fire Nation topknot securely held in place by her hairpiece, symbol of her royal heritage.
Silence danced on the edges of their conversation, waiting for its moment to waltz into the spotlight. She tapped her fingers against her thigh, a rhythmic drumming of impatience as she watched them send glances at each other, having a silent conversation between each other.
“Having her here is a terrible mistake, mark my words”
Katara's words caused another argument between the teenagers, to which she rolled her eyes and stood up, completely fed up with their incessant bickering, and left the room. Her departure came unnoticed by everyone, except for Sokka, who immediately followed after her.
He spotted her by what he guessed was her childhood room. He entered her bedroom and stood beside her, observing her, a distant look in her honey–coloured eyes, as if the present were a mere shadow of the vivid memories playing in her mind, while she was staring at a painting on the wall, depicting two identical little girls and a slightly older boy sitting beside a beautiful woman. Her and Zuko's mother. Fire Lady Ursa.
“That's you, huh?”, he asked softly.
“Yeah”, she answered absentmindedly, voice taking a nostalgic tone as she stared at her child self smiling brightly beside her mother. After she shook off the nostalgic memories, she turned to him, her features noticeably much softer then on their first meeting.
“You despise me. Why did you follow me?”, her eyes searched for whatever in his.
Sokka shrugged and locked his gaze to hers. “I'm very impulsive”
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at his answer, head tilting to the side. A lighthearted grin overtook Sokka’s face, enchanted by her adorableness.
“Earlier, I acted on instinct. I didn't even know Zuko had another sister! Much less that she wouldn't have attacked us! Given the past events, it's only normal that I was skeptical at first. You get me?”
A smile ghosted over her face, letting out a soft and breathy chuckle. “I do. Believe it or not, me and Azula get mistaken all the time”
His grin widened, heart fluttering in his chest. “Was that a joke?”, he asked amused. She shrugged and settled her gaze back on the painting.
“It was a poor excuse for a joke. Attempt failed”
She couldn't help the smile that threatened to lift the edges of her mouth, but she tamped it down regardless.
A comfortable silence crept between them. Sokka stole glances at her every then, admiring her side profile with a reverent look in his eyes. What was she doing stealing his thoughts and distracting him from his larger problems anyway? Like the impending extermination of the people of the Earth Kingdom her own father was pursuing.
Despite all that, he found himself unable to look away. He was like spelled. Even with Yue, Sokka hadn't felt this entranced. She was quiet, but a kind of quiet that hid a simmering fire ready to burst out at any moment. Unlike Yue, who under her composed self, was a serene soul.
Silence wrapped around him like a thick blanket, suffocating any words that dared to escape his lips. The weight of his feelings anchored his words to the pit of his stomach, leaving him incapable of vocalizing his thoughts.
After a few long minutes of an inner battle inside him, he was finally able to speak up, although he stumbled on his words.
“So, like… How did you find us? Keeping track of our movements?”
He instantly cringed at his own words. He wanted to slap himself hard enough to put some sense into his brain. Why had he said it like she was a stalker?
’Way to embarrass yourself in front of a princess, Sokka. Exactly like the last time. Way to go, you're such a champ’, he thought.
Her eyes laid on him, observing her with those sharp gold hues. “It was an obvious choice. My family hasn't come to this summer house ever since…”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, the words dying on her tongue. She shut her eyes against the memories and took a breath, lifting up her gaze back to him.
“Ever since mom died. Father never took us here again, despite mine and Zuko’s protests”, she spoke with a measured, deliberate cadence, every word carefully chosen.
“It was a smart decision, my brother's. My family has forgotten this place. It's the perfect hideout from Father and Azula.”
Sokka understood the weight of her words, how she had hesitated before confiding in him. He also knew how deeply his own mother’s death had scarred his heart. She held her composure well, but even he noted the subtlest shift in her face. Lips turned slightly downwards, eyes locked on the picture of her mother with a distant look in them.
“My… Mother died too. By the hand of a firebender. To protect Katara”, his voice dropped an octave lower. His gaze soft on her, gauging every little reaction he got out of her.
She turned to look at him, really look at him. Her golden eyes dissected him, seeming to examine every quirk of his expression. His eyes, a bright blue that rivaled the ocean, now held distaste no more, carrying instead a gentleness she hadn't expected from the guy who had run at her with a boomerang in hand just an hour ago. She also noticed how his hair had come loose from his wolf–knot, brown strands framing his sun–kissed face.
“I'm sorry”, she whispered.
“Not your fault”, he waved her off with a hint of a friendly but sincere smile.
“Mine left me. Us”, she added, their eyes trained on each other and a comfortable silence swept over them once again.
While they were lost in each other’s eyes, Zuko appeared by the doorframe, knocking gently on it to get their attention. Their seemingly closeness to escaping his eyes, already tensing at the thought of Sokka pursuing his baby sister.
“YN, you're with us. We convinced Katara, with some help from Suki and Momo”, he revealed the decision they had come to.
She flashed him a smile, grateful for her brother's help. Zuko mirrored her smile and his usually cold eyes visibly softened while looking at his sister.
“I'm gonna help Aang train, want to join us?”, he asked.
She nodded, and gave the painting a last glance before walking to the door. “Although, I suppose you know more forms than I do. Uncle must have taught you some of his own invention”
“He did. You've always been a better bender than me, though. You and Azula are prodigies”, retorted Zuko, resting hand on her shoulder.
“You're right”, she piped up, Her lips quirked into a playful smirk.
“Oh, such a big ego”, he scoffed, amused and pushed her lightly. “Aang must already be in the back. Where father used to make us train, remember? I'll join you both in a few minutes”, he instructed her.
She nodded and turned to give a last look at Sokka, flashing him a grateful smile before walking out of the room, leaving to join the young Avatar.
Sokka watched her leaving the room with heart eyes and a lovesick smile on his face. Zuko was quick to close the door behind her, locking it before turning to him, glaring daggers at him. His gentle expression now completely gone, replaced with a murderous one. Jaw clenched and eyebrows pulled together.
He took quick strides to him and towered over him. The candles’ flames started flickering, growing large, warming the whole room in a matter of seconds. The air shimmered with heat waves, distorting the room around him into a mirage of sun-soaked hues.
Sokka froze, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a shiver running down his spine. He gulped and chuckled, a futile attempt at dissipating the tension and rage of the boy that could burn him to ashes if he wanted.
“Zuko, buddy”, his chuckle wavered slightly. “What's got you so heated up?”
Zuko's eyes narrowed even more, if that was humanally possible. His voice almost a growl as he spoke up. “Hurt her, play with her feelings, leave her without a reasonable reason and you'll contribute to the local flora. Got it, water boy?”
His chuckled wavered again, sounding more scared than amused now. “What… What do you mean by that?”
Zuko's glare was a more than enough answer. “Okay, got it”, he immediately shut himself up.
By sunset, the firebending practice with Aang and Zuko was almost done. She found out that Zuko was a strict mentor, yelling and scolding Aang – and her– for every little mistake. For the entire duration of the training session, she had glared at her brother and his insufferable way of teaching.
She was in the middle of showing Aang how to execute a firebending move, when Sokka joined them in the back of the summerhouse, taking a seat by the stairs and sipping coconut water directly from the fruit.
He admired her as she seemed to dance on the sand, blue flames also seemingly dancing around her like a ribbon following her every move, the blue light emitting from her flames highlighted her already sharp features.
When she was done, Sokka started clapping and cheering for her, making her aware of his presence. She smiled flustered at his actions, bowing briefly to Aang to excuse herself before catching up to him.
“Now, that was some good jerkbending!”, he smiled brightly at her, sipping innocently from the coconut.
She bit back a laugh and tilted her head slightly to the side, eyes shining with amusement while taking a seat beside him. “Jerkbending?”
His eyes widened like saucers when he realised what he had said, his ears burning hot with embarrassment. He then exploded in laughter, pulling a smile from her too.
“Inside joke, sorry”, he said in–between laughs.
“You know, I thought firebending was all kicks and punches. You seemed to dance”, he admitted, eyes locking with hers.
“It is, mostly. But one day, when I was a little girl, my uncle explained to me how the four elements worked”, she answered. She picked up a stick from the ground and started drawing on the sand the symbols of the four elements, pausing in between the elements to explain them one by one.
“Fire is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will and the energy and drive to achieve what they want.
“Earth is the element of substance. The people of the Earth Kingdom are diverse and strong. They are persistent and enduring.
“Air is the element of freedom. The Air Nomads detached themselves from worldly concerns and found peace and freedom.
“Water is the element of change. The people of the Water Tribes are capable of adapting to many things. They have a sense of community and love that holds them together through anything.
“It is the combination of the four elements in one person that makes the Avatar so powerful. But it can make any bender more powerful too.”, she explained.
“These words struck me deep, and from that moment, I started studying waterbending. In secret, of course. In my eyes, waterbending is a dance full of grace. Each movement is fluid, needs to be so. As a result, little me thought, ‘Why can't I do that too?’. And I did.”, she admitted with a smile.
Sokka stared at her amazed, mouth agape. “Woah…”
She laughed softly at his reaction, her cheeks getting a pink hue at the intensity of his gaze.
“You're amazing”, said he, completely mesmerised by her and the wisdom in her speech. Her blush deepened, a shy smile painting her face.
In that moment, Sokka realised how head over heels he was for her. She could be simply sitting or practicing her bending, and yet be hypnotised by her. Her simple presence made his heart quicken its beats, made him lose focus of whatever was happening around them.
And in that moment, he gathered all the courage present in his body, and took a deep breath to calm his raging heartbeat.
“H–hey… You fancy taking a stroll on the shore with me?”, he asked bashfully, hoping to receive a positive response. When he didn't get a rejection, he sprung to his feet, excitement dancing in his blue eyes. He gently grabbed her hand and dragged her by the shore, kicking off his shoes and telling her to do the same.
They walked by the sea shore hand in hand, silence broken only by the sound of the waves and their footsteps in the now cold sand. The Moon was just rising, casting a milky light over the two teenagers, and setting a romantic vibe.
She shyly intertwined her fingers with his, promptly avoiding his shocked stare at her bold action. Her whole face felt like it was on fire, and probably also looked the part. However, she didn't feel ashamed. She felt at ease around him. Something she didn't often feel around others. His presence was oddly soothing the fire burning within her.
Sokka swung their interlocked hands, smiling at himself like a dummy. His eyes traced her side profile, painted with soft strokes of moonlight. “The Moon suits you”, he said sincerely, his voice seeming almost a whisper with the crashing sound of the waves.
The corner of her lips curled up in a careless smirk, eyes burning with mischief and that self–assurance that Azula possessed too.
“I'm more of a Sun person”, she teased lightly, hand squeezing his for a brief second, causing his breath to momentarily catch in his throat. After regaining control over his own body and reactions, Sokka let out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.
“Understandable”
He stayed silent for a few seconds before piped up again. “You know, I dated the Moon once”
Her unimpressed gaze laid on his sapphire one, a perfect styled eyebrow arching and silently daring him to come up with something more idiotic.
“What? It's true! My first girlfriend turned into the Moon! Yue, Princess of the Northern Water Tribe?”, he defended himself, voice raising slightly.
When she realised he was not in fact joking, her whole face fell and realisation took its place, mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. Words died in her throat, not knowing what to say in these kind of situations, so she blurted out whatever came up in her mind.
“That's… That's rough”, she said slowly, unsure of how to approach him after his revelation.
He, on the other hand, stared at her for a few seconds and bursted out laughing, tears welling up in his eyes. She looked at him like he had grown another head, completely unaware of what was so funny in her response. Or was it something in her appearance? Perhaps her crown–hairpiece was slightly crooked. Or her makeup had ruined due to sweat after the training?
“What's got you laughing like a mad man?”, she asked pouting slightly, her voice laced with clear confusion.
“That's– Oh fuck, it's so hilarious!”, answered him, his laughter showed no signs of ceasing any time soon.
She was gradually growing frustrated at his lack of immediate answer, so, like her inner spoiled princess, she stomped her foot on the water, splashing his ankles.
His laughter died down almost immediately, his expression becoming more serious. He stared at her for a long time, eyes unblinking. A playful smirk slowly grew on his face, his gaze glittering with mischief and challenge.
“Challenge accepted, Princess”
Before she could question him once more, she was being dragged further in the ocean, the water lapping at their knees. He mercilessly started splashing her, successfully soaking her royal robes and hair.
She gasped loudly, arms flying to cover her face from the whips of water coming her way. The moment his attacks subsided, she let her arms fall on her sides, revealing a determined expression. Her face was no more soft and bashful. Oh no, he had released the competitive side of her, that Zuko liked to call ‘her Azula side’.
She let out a scoff, cracking her knuckles and flipping her wet hair behind her shoulders. “You sure that's what you wanna do, Water Tribe?”
He snickered and waved her off. “What's a pretty princess like you gonna do to me, huh?”
She smiled confidently, lips wetting her lips as she put her hands on her hips. “My family started this war, Water Tribe. War flows in my veins. And, not to brag or anything, but my nation has had the upper hand for a century. You're not gonna win this”
He scoffed and huffed. “You'd love that to happen, don't you?”
She smiled mockingly at him, 100% sure she had victory in her hands. “You dug your own grave. Remember that when you'll beg me for mercy”, she said smugly before starting her own attacks.
They water–battled for what seemed forever, droplets of water flying left and right. The fishes who were swimming peacefully in that area had long swum away, scared for their lives.
She saw an opportunity to flip him around, and she took it. She distracted him, splashing him on the face. She then grabbed his forearm and dragged him to the shore, throwing him on the sand with a kick and trapping his legs with her weight, arm raises and a bright blue flame already dancing in her palm.
Needless to say she grinned victoriously.
His breath catched in his throat for what seemed to be the fifth time that day. He wasn't expecting to lose. A look of awe and shameless admiration took over his face, lips stretched in a lovesick smile.
That was before he noticed their position and everything felt hot. Like she had put her fire near his face, warming up his cheeks and ears. However, she was too smug about her victory, that she hadn't realised it yet.
“Don't be shy. I love hearing people begging me”, she smirked.
“Uh… YN…”, he tried to speak up.
“I'd say I'm not the type to rub victory in the loser's face, but that’d be an obvious lie. Also, I told you”, she held her chin high, her hand still gripping his forearm to keep him still.
A wave crashing by her feet took her back to reality, making her embarrassingly aware of their position. Her cheeks took a strawberry hue, eyes widening slightly and most importantly locked with his.
They stared at each other, the tension growing rapidly, just like the sudden urge to lean down and press her lips to his. It was a difficult task, repressing that instinct, so after an inner battle between her heart and mind, she succumbed to her heart's desires.
She extinguished her flames and rested her hand on his shoulder, the other hand lessening its grip on his arm. Like in a daze, she leaned down, eyes dropping to his lips, his own doing the same.
When she was close enough, she moved her hand from his arm to cup his cheek, her touch almost ghosting his skin. Both their hearts thumping wildly in their chests.
Sokka closed the distance between their lips and pressed his to hers softly, afraid the moment would shatter if he wasn't anything but gentle with her.
Their lips brushed against each other shyly, eyes closed in bliss.
She broke the kiss and pulled away slightly, just enough to gaze into his eyes, drinking in the aftermath of what remained of the magical moment.
An enamored smile made his way on his face, softening further his already gentle features. A breathy laugh escaped him.
“Can't believe I kissed Zuko's mad sister's twin”
She bursted out chuckling as well, rolling off him and beside him on the cold sand.
“I was hoping to be something more than Azula's less mad twin”
“Oh, you are”, he answered, a smitten expression on his face as mirth danced in his gaze.
They stayed laying on the beach for a few more hours, simply basking in their silence, content. Their hearts’ heartbeats synchronised.
How true were Iroh’s words. The union of the two elements did make her feel more powerful. Love had that effect on people, some said.
summary ☞ Not everyone's picture was a party with blinding lights and students drinking left and right. Though, the alcohol there does help whom seek to admit that a "utterly platonic friendship" is much more than that.
word count ☞ 1.5k
warnings ☞ fluff, really cringey, inspired by drinks and coffee by rosé, underage drinking, hufflepuff!reader, drunkenness, a couple of swear words, some lyrics from the song if you squint hard enough.
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. @ryomenlettuce you brought this upon yourself. I've warned you. one of my first fics (even if i did edit it...) so bare with me pls. leave a comment and a reblog!
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine, @cafekitsune
The sixth year Hufflepuff girl wasn’t the type to enjoy attending parties.
She preferred staying curled up on her warm and cosy bed with a good book and her Siamese cat, Tommy. She was made like that. Shy to her core and outgoing twice a week. That night, though, her plans to stay in bed went up in smoke.
When the clock struck eleven pm, Hannah Abbott, her dear friend, had knocked at her dorm and insisted that she went with her to a party the Ravenclaws threw.
“A rare occurrence we simply cannot skip!”, tried reasoning the honey blond Hufflepuff.
She didn't even have enough to protest, that Hannah had got her all dolled up and perfumed. All within twenty minutes. Might have been impressive if she wasn't busy complaining about having to go to get out of her comfort zone.
As expected from the Ravenclaws, their party sucked.
Even the yellow tie–clad girl, who had no party experience whatsoever, could stand by this. The music blasting through the enchanted speakers left much to desire and the alcohol looked weird. The only ones who didn't seem to mind the chaos were the already wasted students, who were dancing carelessly in the middle of the common room.
Hannah had left her alone by eleven fifteen, probably off to snog some bloke, and she resorted to standing in a corner, drink untouched and making small talk with whoever was near her. She was actually doing a pretty good job at it, almost succeeding in making a new friend, until a name reached her ears and made her lose all the focus she had on the conversation at hand. A name she was very familiar with.
Theodore Nott.
Even though he was a Slytherin and she a Hufflepuff, they clicked instantly the first time they met in third year.
Theodore was aloof and could— and probably already did multiple times— hex the daylight out of whoever dared to look at him wrong.
With the shy badger, however, he was startlingly considerate and amiable. Always having in mind her interests and preferences. He had grown to be rather protective of the girl, which led to Theodore to hex whoever dared to look at her wrong too.
She couldn't restrain herself as she followed him and his mates— Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Enzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini— with her eyes make their way to the make–shift bar, and get each a cup of the most–probably poisoned drink.
In that moment, under the flickering lights, affected by the alcohol rushing in her bloodstream, she realised just how strikingly handsome her friend was.
She had always known he was charming. Helga, she had eyes. Yet, her thoughts never strayed far from platonic.
That night, they did.
So, high on the single cup of liquid courage she sipped through the night, she walked up to him, and offered a grin to the group of snakes.
Theo had seen her approaching. Or rather, stumbling towards him. She looked completely wasted. But of course, he saw her. He noticed her the moment he stepped foot into the eagles’ common room.
He mirrored the smile on her face and wrapped an arm around her shoulders— which rewarded him several whoops and smirks by his friends. They were well aware he fancied her. They also knew he didn't have the balls to make a move on her. He could only roll his eyes and suffer through the teasing.
“Lovely, what are you doing here? This is not your usual scene”, he asked in her ear, looking down at her with his chocolate eyes with a fond look shining through them.
“Hannah dragged me here”, she grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling with cheerfulness. “I've got no idea where she went off, and honestly, I don't wanna know”, she grimaced. “But, I'm glad you're here!”, she let out a little scream, and pressed herself closer to him.
“This party’s kinda shit. Are parties usually like this one? I'm bored out of my mind.”, she pouted, cackling right after who knows what.
“Theo”, she called his name just a few seconds later. “Do you realise that, in this exact moment, I could be cuddling with Tommy on my bed, sipping a nice and warm cup of jasmine tea with my precious strawberry honey and slowly dozing off to a relaxing song?”, she asked while staring absent–mindedly at the front of his blue shirt, clearly daydreaming.
“Isn't it so inviting? Well, bummer for me, instead of being in my personal heaven, I'm in an overcrowded room, where the music's too loud and the lights are giving me a headache!”, she slurred with a frown pulled on her lips.
He shook his head at her drunken mannerisms. “So cute”, he thought. Then, a thought went through her head, and she wasn't sober enough to stop her mouth from running. “Hey, wanna dance?”
Her eyes shining and wide, looking up at him expectantly with a smile so bright to rival the sun, the moon and every star in the universe, oblivious to the bomb she had just dropped on him.
Theodore’s eyes softened and his lips quirked up subconsciously. As if they had a mind of their own. The request had completely thrown Theo off. Though, he couldn't pass up an opportunity to dance with her. When was it going to happen again?
So, eager to have a moment alone with her, Theodore bid his goodbyes to his grinning mates and led her on the dance floor. They danced for a good two hours. Chatting, him catching her every few minutes, and her giggling every time she stepped on his feet. Both were lost and immersed in their little, happy bubble.
At some point she let it slip that something about him had catched her attention. Perhaps the way his hair fell on his forehead in perfect waves or the easygoing smile he permanently had on his face whenever she was around— either way, she admitted that she was starting to see him in a different light. One not so platonic.
Her words so nonchalantly thrown his way had caused his heart to skip several beats and his stomach to drop. Only after supposedly overcoming his lovesick symptoms he grinned sincerely. He didn't give a single damn that literally everyone in the room could witness this soft act of love and see what he only reserved to her eyes only.
“Let's get to your dorm, yeah? Are you still yearning for your own paradise?”
She nodded immediately and let him lead her away from the blasting music and blinding lights. Once inside her dorm, she squealed and sped off to her bed, jumping on it and sighing in relief at the contact of her fluffy blanket. Tommy came out of his hideout when he heard her voice, and took his rightful place tucked in her side demanding cuddles.
“Oh, my baby. Don't you worry, I'm back. I missed you so so much. Mummy's not leaving you anymore”, she muttered in a baby voice with face pressed on his beige fur.
Theodore snickered at the sight of her, tipsy and overdramatic. He kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed, hand reaching out to pet the cat’s head. “You're almost an extrovert when you drink, huh? We might have just found the way to get you out of your shell”, he mumbled quietly, not exactly expecting an answer.
And when he found no reaction, he continued to speak his mind. “Is it so wrong? I've been thinkin' about you all day.”, he blurted out, voice still too soft to catch your attention. “Yesterday, and today and tomorrow”
His eyes then averted from the cat and settled on her face. Her cheeks were rosy from alcohol, pressed snugly on the side of her pet, while her eyes were closed in bliss and what he deciphered to be drowsiness.
Perhaps his gaze lingered a tad too long on her face to keep pretending it was just a harmless friendship. But neither cared. That heartwarming image— already carefully stored in his mind— gave him enough courage to call out her name and finally voice the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind for a while.
“We should hang out, sometimes. In a non–platonic way”
Her eyes remained closed, too drowsy to actually look at him, but nodded at him nonetheless.
“We could get drinks, or we could get coffee”, she agreed quietly, her voice slightly muffled by Tommy's soft fur.
Theo’s felt himself melt right there. He had scored a date with the girl of his dreams. The Hufflepuff that managed to capture both his heart and soul armed only with her laid–back personality and soft eyes. He laid beside her, and breathed out a “we could”, eyes locked on the ceiling and a dazed grin playing on his lips.
Fuck those house rivalries. He truly was the most lucky guy in all Hogwarts.
summary ☞ Harry's not the brightest crayon in the pack. In many ways, actually. Love is one of those ways.
word count ☞ 1.1k+
warnings ☞ fluff, harry is infuriating, background romione bickering, a few swear words, best friends to lovers
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. if I'm not mistaken, this was requested by @potterheadlovespotter
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine, @cafekitsune
Whoever said girls were complicated must have been a boy themselves, 'cause they clearly had never seen themselves act.
Let's be brutally honest; girls are not complicated. It's the men’s minds that couldn't get a girl's sign to save their lives. Men were confusing as hell, not the other way around. Couldn't they be more like girls? Girls understand each other. Girls stand up for another girl. They're loyal to each other. To the point where there's a girl code.
Women are said to be multitasking masters, their brains capable of doing mental calculations men could never even dream of reaching.
However, as a girl, she could not understand the enigma that Harry James Potter was.
They've been friends since third year, best friends since fourth. She had always been by his side, always standing up to him when that dancing ferret of a Malfoy would bother him or just exist near him when both didn't have the energy to be social.
But that's all. Friends. Their friendship never went past that limit. At least for her.
Harry had always… Acted off, strange around her. Staring oh so openly at her during classes, reserving a seat for her everywhere he went, sliding or sending her notes that would have been cute, if she could decipher his hieroglyphics–like handwriting.
All those things added together made her doubt that, to him, she was something that went a tad over than a friend. By no means was she the only one who thought it!
Many wondered if she and Harry were an item. Some were even bold enough to ask either of them. She had always answered those accusations with a rather confused gaze, utter disbelief painted on her face.
Harry, on the other hand, shrugged them off, denied them. It was almost as though he had never flirted with her in the first place, that the thought of them being in a relationship didn't shatter in a million pieces their friendship, as if he wasn't bothered by the questions about the nature of their friendship.
The boy went from enchanting owls to sing sappy things like, “Oh Godric, could you please return my heart? Stealing is not cool”, to treat her like she was yet another girl constantly around him. That couldn't help herself but feel the need to be close to him.
Sometimes, he even went as far as to not acknowledge her at all. Something that, as unlikely as it may seem, even the twins had called him out on to. And if the twins caught on to his shitty and bipolar behaviour, it was certain to be serious.
Though, she never went as far as shaking some sense into his head through playful offended glances and dramatic gasps.
She tried not to read too much into it, though. It's Harry Potter she was talking about. Doing questionable things was his trademark, it was mandatory. It's just the genes of James Potter flowing through him.
Unfortunately, she was never successful. She found herself trying to make a sense of it all very often, too often. For instance, instead of having those average shower thoughts such as “What if Cinderella was a pizza chef's slave instead of a cleaning slave, and her name was Mozzarella?”, she made a list of his behaviour towards her, and tried to find a logical thread within it.
It was maddening, really. When she thought she was near the answer, he'd change completely, putting her off with yet another flirty and especially badly–written note passed under the desk.
Understanding how his mind worked was a tougher task than brewing a perfect Felix Felicis under the strict scrutiny of the ever–frowning Severus Snape.
Hermione had dragged her, Harry and Ron to the library to “get your homework done! Honestly, guys, I'm tired of having to force you three to do your homeworks!” again.
She was glaring daggers at her bushy–haired friend, hoping that she had understood well enough the non–verbal spells class to conjure a bunch of feathers falling right on her friend. Just to annoy her.
Both her and the guys groaned audibly. Ron slammed his head on the table, while Harry stared at Hermione like she had personally offended his cat, fingers tapped a rapid beat on the table, an outward display of impatience.
“Homework should be you guys’ first priority!”, she had huffed annoyed while arranging books, parchment, and quills in front of them.
Ron whipped his head up, a look of disbelief washing on his face.
“You're one to talk! Should I remind you about your own priorities, Hermione? You were bloody nuts! I remember in first year—!”, scoffed the freckled boy, interrupted by a very scandalised gasp from Hermione.
“Oh no, Ronald! You will not talk to me like that—!”
“Wait, what happened in first year?”, piped up YN, momentarily stopping her glaring contest with her friend’s hair.
“Nothing—!”
“She was bloody nuts—!”
“I was not! I was merely thinking of the consequences of your reckless actions—!”
“You said you'd rather die than be expelled—!”
“Oh, that's totally off the point, Ronald!”
She had lost interest in their bickering after only two seconds.
She had resorted to stare at Harry instead, who was too busy scribbling Quidditch strategies on the margins of the History of Magic essay to care about Hermione and Ron.
Somewhere in her inner monologue, back again to attempting to get a glimpse of his mind, she started noticing things about him, that she had never even cared enough to pay attention to before.
Things like his tousled dark hair, which had never once looked neat in his whole life; Looked like he had run his hand through it one time too many times. Things like his eyes, a shade of moss after rain, alive and changed under the right light; Now locked on her own.
“You're staring”, pointed out Harry, a faint smug grin playing on his lips, glasses down on the tip of his nose.
“So are you”, she retorted bashfully, embarrassed she had been caught ogling at him.
“Only because you were gawking at me first”, he replied, cocky. “That's a love confession in my book, darling”, he winked.
“Love?”, she scoffed incredulously. “You should be the one confessing, Potter”
“Me? And why should I?”
“'Cause you've been flirting with me nonstop!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yeah! You've been sending me mixed signals for ages! One moment you're there, practically eye fucking me, and the next it's like I'm no better than Romilda Vane and the rest of your little psycho fan club!”
“I've never done such thing—!”
“For the love of Merlin, Harry—!”
Needless to say, Madam Pince was trying to shush the bickering pairs, who looked more like old married couples than friends.
Once could only hope that both pairs would finally open their eyes and acknowledge the harbouring feelings in their chests.
As of now, though, Harry and she would continue with their mixed signals.
summary ☞ Life came difficult for the second best daughter of Athena, a dark tunnel of sadness and despair. Her light at the end of it came in the form of Percy Jackson.
word count ☞ 2.3k
warnings ☞ angst, hurt/comfort, themes of not being enough, mild bitterness, sadness, percy is a flirt, annabeth is the captain of percy x reader ship
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. was req'd by @perseusargent! diary entries taken from jacopo sol's "luci spente". pls leave a comment and a reblog!!!
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine and @cafekitsune
Annabeth this, Annabeth that. When will her turn come?
She loved her sister, truly. Everyone could see just how much she looked up to Annabeth, she was her role model. Her go–to person when she wasn't feeling her best, when their mother didn't acknowledge her efforts. For Gods’ sake, she used to follow her around Camp like a lost duckling!
So her deep–rooted and soul–consuming envy wasn't the fruit of hatred. No, not at all. It was the exact opposite.
What hurt most, though, was the constant comparison she inevitably did with her sister. Beautiful, intelligent— almost like their mother. Loved and feared by all. Wise to a greater extent and quick to give out directions in battle.
No one dared to disobey her. No one dared to even ruffle her feathers. She was everyone's hero, everyone’s favourite, the Architect of Olympus. Everyone’s first choice. Whether she… She was everyone's second choice.
Growing up in a messed up place such as Camp Half-blood, filled to the brim with teens with mummy and daddy issues alike, under Annabeth Chase’s shadow was not a stroll in the park. It meant always being surrounded by a crowd, but never really acknowledged, never truly seen. It meant being part of a conversation, but never heard, never taken into account, unless Annabeth was of the same opinion.
Deep inside her, words written in black ink into pages of her personal diary, she felt alone. How was that possible? She wasn't alone. Still, that was the feeling that reigned over her mind and heart. The feeling that often clouded her judgments, that held her back, that made her think of herself as a light, turned off by a stealthy creature of the night.
Her diary, oh her diary. It was her only confidant. The one thing that she crawled back to when everything felt too much. Secrets were spilt late in the nights, tucked under the comforting weight of her blankets. Hushed confessions were written in the margins, so small, in hopes that it was enough for her to ignore the next time she opened that page. Not important enough to be in the centre. Silly little thoughts she wanted gone.
Her diary wasn't a friend to her; no. It was the treasure chest of her real self. No filters, no forced smiles, no lies. Simply, her.
One page especially stood out. Completely blank, whereas the following pages were written so much they creaked when turned. Only in the margins could be found tiny writings, unreadable scribbles only she could interpret. They reflected her perfectly, the mirror of her soul. She often found herself opening that page, perhaps attracted by the raw emotions, poured on a poor sheet of paper, a means to lift the hefty weight off the trembly shoulders of a vulnerable sixteen–year–old.
“I always seem cheerful, I know that, and sometimes I'm terrified of having eyes on me”
“Being alone, it doesn't change what I feel, and I turn off everyone's light. Sometimes I look at my reflection, and I don't even recognise myself.”
“Please, forgive me if I can't help but feel inadequate when I'm talking about me”
Ironically, reading the outcome of her dark, lightless moments gave her an unusual sense of comfort, as if recalling those episodes were the evidence of a dim light in the pitch black tunnel that was her life.
However, in those soulless tunnels, while stumbling and falling, tired and spiritless, at some point a blinding light is all our eyes can see; With its beam, warmth returns, and a wave of fresh hope and optimism comes over us, gifting us the necessary energies to get up and regain control of our life.
This light came to her in the form of Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, saviour of Olympus.
She couldn't grasp what made him so… so enamoured with her. Annabeth was right beside him, with her astonishing intellect and quick wit. Why her, if he could have Annabeth? She always got plenty of answers from the sea–swept haired boy, but none satisfied her, none were valid in her opinion.
But the one he always answered with, was that she reminded him of the sea. He said she was his morning sea breeze that swept his already–messy jet black locks. Said she was the fresh waves tickling his feet, ever calm and rhythmic. Said that when she allowed herself, she could also be a stormy sea, threatening the sailors with just one thunder.
Despite all those metaphors didn't make sense in her mind reigned by logic and facts, she did fall for them. Hard. Unapologetically so. She felt in one of those ‘he fell first but she fell harder’ trope books she oh so loved to read in secret.
Finally someone saw her. Finally someone heard her. Finally someone’s first choice. She could get used to the feeling.
Despite not being half bad in combat, specifically sword fighting, she utterly despised the times Annabeth would drag her ass out of her cabin. Far from her warm blankets and her small lamp, and far from her copy of ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’— to train. Fighting was bad, and she wasn't bad at it. Annabeth had only interrupted her peaceful reading in the middle of a breathtaking discovery; Who was the man hidden in the moor, under a Neolithic dwelling? The answer apparently had to wait, because Annabeth decided it came after training.
Her sister was blathering about some key point to disarm the opponent, going on and on for several minutes about something she had stopped listening to two minutes into the yawnsome speech. Her attention was however caught by Percy's back, droplets of water running down his spine from his hair, a clear evidence of his daily swim break. For a good few seconds, she hadn't even cared to blink, too focused on the godly–looking boy walking out the sea.
The lovestruck glint in her eyes wasn't missed by the watchful gaze of her older sister. No, not at all. The blonde girl had even decided not to be subtle in her detection. “You fancy Seaweed Brain?”, she asked with her chin held high, eyebrows and lips pulled in a teasing expression.
The insinuation left her feeling hot, hotter than it was meant to be under the sun. While her older sister— by only a year, she likes to insist!— was all knowing smiles and wiggling eyebrows. A wet hand on her shoulder interrupted the staring contest between the two Athena’s girls, taking her already stressed heart by surprise.
In her head, a string of imprecations was resounding in a loop, agonizing the moment she'd come face to face with the reason her mind was in a messy turmoil; the greatest fear for a child of the Goddess of wisdom and logic— second only to spiders. Those hairy–legged bitches…
“Hey there, Seastorm”, he smiled down at her, flashing her a carefree smile, that lasted a bit too long for it to be just friendly. He then turned to her sister, acknowledging her with a brief nod and a simple, “hey Annie”, to which the blonde, curly haired girl answered with an amused nod of hers.
He didn't miss a beat— something her heart was not able to do with him so close to her— and grabbed her hand, tugging her lightly with him towards the beach. “Mind if I steal your pupil, Wise Girl?”
Annabeth regarded him with an amused done expression, clearly full of his incessant dance around her, and her stubbornness to deny the obvious. “By all means, Kelp Face. She's all yours today. You know what? I don't want her returned to me if not your girlfriend”, she smirked deviously.
… What was happening?! The words said were running around like crazy in her mind, a pinball where words were the tiny balls crashing around with no order or specific organization.
In that flabbergasted state, she was tugged away from the Arena, and dragged to the sandy seashore of Camp Half-blood. “What—”, she tried to ask, but one single killer smile over his shoulder from Percy was enough to send her heart into a frenzy and shut her up for good.
Her heartbeat was as loud as the crashing waves, if not louder. Irregular thumps, loud and almost suffocating echoed in her ears, blood rushing to paint the tips a vermilion. Meanwhile, her eyes searched for his sea–green ones, who were shining with mirth and anticipation.
“Annie kinda spoilered it all…”, he said scratching the back of his neck, looking like the epitome of sheepishness itself, the words coming out like whispered confessions over the roaring of her heart's pounding and waves crashing.
She raised an eyebrow, her breath short and heavy from the leftover surprise of it all. She leaned slightly in, with a hand dramatically clutching her chest to calm her raging pulse and lips hung wide, in an attempt to catch her breath. “Eh?”, she muttered out of breath and utterly confused.
At her silly state, he let out a loud chuckle and sat down criss–crossed on the white sand, tugging her down with him, patting the seat in front of him.
“Aren't you supposed to be smart and quick?”, he teased light-heartedly.
She rolled her eyes, with a smile playing on her lips, shaking slightly her head at his poor excuse of a joke.
He reciprocated with a grin of his own, almost hesitant, reaching out to hold her hands in his. His confidence returned only a few seconds later, and he acquired the courage to squeeze her fingers tenderly, not a single sound escaping him.
Though, as it took everyone by surprise— Him, her and Poseidon, ‘cause he was definitely staring down at his sole son—, he suddenly got straight to the point, only after a few good minutes of complete silence over them, the only sounds filling the void were distant chatters and laughter.
“Be my girlfriend”
A stunned, breathless gasp escaping her caught him off guard, throwing him off completely. As realisation hit her hard on her face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, mortified for her insensitive answer.
“I'm so sorry, Perce— I just—”, she spluttered out, red in the face, hand still clasping over her lips.
He only let out a chuckle at her incoherent state, an ever–growing affectionate smile replaced his earlier confident grin. His eyes no longer shone reflecting the Sun’s light, but rather from love and tenderness for the red–faced girl in an embarrassed mess standing in front of him in the soft, warm sand.
He only widened his smile when she got even redder, the hue now extending to her neck. He teasingly fanned her with his hands, getting slapped away in response from her.
“Oh, shut it…”, she mumbled behind her hand, shying away from his adoration gaze. “It just startled me…”
“Perhaps I should have learned sign language… I would have surely got a clue on your confusional signals”
“What are you blabbering about?… It was a clear yes”, she answered, looking up at him through her eyelashes, suddenly feeling sheepish from her bold statement.
A mix of emotions passed over his face, one by one, but the one he settled on was one of pure happiness. So pure that he didn't think twice to pick her up and spin around, with her laughing joyfully while holding his shoulders.
Once he placed her back down, he hugged her tightly, and rested his head on hers. While she, tearing up and moved by the situation, hid her face in the crook of his neck, shaking slightly from the quiet sobs leaving her lips.
He chuckled softly and broke the hug to cup her cheeks, smiling reassuringly at her while wiping her tears with his thumbs. “I know I'm pretty eventful, but I never expected this kind of reaction…”, he joked to try to make her smile.
“I just— It's stupid, really…”, she tried to say in vain, still shaken, seeing that Percy immediately shook his head firmly.
“Nothing’s stupid. Especially not you”, he wiggled his eyebrows with an idiotic grin, successfully making her crack a hint of a smile. Puffing out his chest proudly, he added,“you can tell me anything. I'm your boyfriend now”
After a deep breath, or perhaps two or three, she met his gaze, locking it. “Sometimes… Sometimes I feel like I'm not that important to everyone. There's always someone who comes before me. Always. And— And now you come saying all that stuff… The sea–themed similes, the girlfriend thing…”
Another big, deep breath. “It's nice”, she stated finally, lifting off a weight she had been carrying for too long. A trembly, but nonetheless genuine, smile made its way on her lips, eyes wet and a bit swollen from crying.
“Yeah, well… It's called love, Seastorm. You better get used to it, cause you're ‘boutta get loads of it from now on”
Their eyes stayed locked in place, together. Thousand of words being replaced by a single glance. Then, finally, another tight hug sealed all their confessions together; That's what love is.
Second choice? Not anymore. At least, not to the person that mattered the most.
“Percy Jackson”
Those were the words written on the last page of her journal.
Not in a small handwriting, not in the margins; Big and right in the middle, highlighted, a blue glittery heart around it.
BONUS PART
They approached Annabeth, walking hand in hand, swinging them and chucking under their breaths. With a wave of his free hand, Percy grabbed the blonde’s attention, and watching her face changing from confusion, to realisation and to joy was priceless. What was even better, was the squeal that unexpectedly left her.
She and Percy shared a look of bewilderment, and burst out laughing loudly. “Think I can return her to you, now”, grinned Percy.
summary ☞ Seijoh got itself a manager (thanks to Oikawa, but who cares) and of course the captain is set on bagging her for himself (she doesn't seem so up to it though)
word count ☞ 1.9k+
warnings ☞ fluff, pre–timeskip, kinda ooc seijoh team, a few swear words, oikawa is a man on a mission, iwaizumi yelling at oikawa, corny pickup lines, toru's a cheeky little bastard
mene's notes ☞ previously posted on @/selenewowww. if I'm not mistaken, this was requested by @/toorubae
dividers by ☞ @cursed-carmine , @cafekitsune
At last, Aoba Johsai got its own manager. After dreaming and fighting to have one, the Seijoh’s boys finally saw their prayers coming true.
In fact, they all had significantly brightened up and got better at their team play. And it showed during friendly matches. All because a pretty girl sat beside their coach at every single one of them, and passed them towels and water bottles whenever they needed them. Not to mention, she helped them practice and stretch without ever once complaining, or helped them clean up when it was time to head home. When she wanted to reward them for a good match or just simply felt like it, she'd cook them bento boxes just as they liked. And last but not least, she studied their opponents and gave them tips to win before every match. Things like, “keep an eye out for number 7, ‘cause he does a lot of parallels” or “their defense is kinda shit, guys”. Truly a dream.
But above all, they were instantly grateful that she stayed. Because, let's be real, they thought she'd run away as soon as their captain approached her with the grin that earned him one too many balls spiked by Iwaizumi on the back of his head. They were genuinely fearing he'd scare her away with his cocky and confident personality. But even after interacting not once, not twice, but thrice directly, she stayed. And they always thanked whoever’s up there for that.
Tooru Oikawa's a lot, to put it frankly. Though, he was the reason they had a manager in the first place. Because, of course he'd walk up to the first pretty girl he saw in the hallways and tried to convince her to be their manager. The reasons why she accepted were still unknown, but who cares when she pampered them so good? And especially when she was somewhat an expert in volleyball already? Apparently she had played as a setter in middle school but decided not to keep playing after entering high school. She knew her thing, rules by heart, and they didn't need to explain anything to her.
And so, they felt like they were in heaven for a whole month. Free from every concern and at ease because their amazing manager always got their back. However, their fear crept back when Tooru Oikawa strutted inside the gym with a smile so bright that washed the team's away. Not even sparing a mere glance at any of them, he made an immediate beeline towards the side of the court where she was setting up bento boxes for each of them.
Oikawa stopped right behind her, towering over her while she bent down and focused on her task. He grinned to himself, and flickered his hair, bending down himself to be at her level, his face right beside hers.
“Hey manager”, he whispered in her ear, making her drop the bottle she was holding.
“Oikawa!”
“You like my last name? It's yours, if you want it”, he kept talking while completely ignoring the death glare she was currently sending him. He only smiled brighter.
She huffed and picked the bottle, refusing to turn and glance at him another time.
“What? My face is a better view than that bottle. Does it have my beautiful hair? Or my drop dead smile?”
Instead of waving him off or glare at him again– what he was expecting– she only made her way to her own gym bag.
But he didn't let it demotivate him, so he followed after her, walking side by side with her and staring down at her grinning. “I bet your phone is yearning for my phone number right now”
She didn't answer it either. She went on with her day as if a 6’ 0.6” smug, volleyball captain wasn't breathing down her neck like she was the latest flavour of pocky’s. She took out her notebook and pen, and sat down, but not free of the human nuisance yet. Oikawa took the seat beside her, and placed his chin on her shoulder like it was something he did everyday. Or at least, he wished that he'd come to the point where he could do it everyday.
He watched as she scribbled down on the page, and sometimes looked up to study the guys. “You know, I could get used to it”, he mumbled softly. And when she stayed quiet, he continued. “You cooking me food and putting your focus on me, writing down whatever I do”
His breath hitched, and his eyes widened slightly when she looked up and angled her head to look at him. “I do it for the whole team. You're not special”, she corrected.
He stared amazed at her for a few seconds before a soft smile appeared on his face. “Not yet, not yet. But I will be”, he said softly, their eyes locking momentarily.
“I don't think so, Oikawa”, she answered.
“That's what you think now. But sooner or later you'll be mine, manager”, he said. “Let me explain something to you. I am the pen, and you are the highlighter”
She scoffed softly. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I draw our future together, while you make it brighter”, he winked, making her roll her eyes.
“You're an idiot”
“Soon to be yours”, he insisted.
“In your dreams, Oikawa”
“Oh yeah, you're often in my dreams”
“Shittykawa!”, suddenly thundered Iwaizumi’s voice. “Get your ass on the court!”
He glanced up at his friend, and waved him off. “Not now, Iwa–chan! She's about to say yes to a date!”, he exclaimed before returning his attention to the pretty girl on his right.
Apparently, though, Iwaizumi wasn't in the mood to stand him, because a ball went flying towards Oikawa and almost grazed his head. A shiver run down his back, and immediately jumped to his feet, smiling sheepishly to his friend as he approached him. “Okay, okay! I'm coming!”
He grabbed a ball and took position under the net, but before that he turned to her and winked.
“Focus, Oikawa!”, barked out Iwaizumi. “Can't you see she's not getting charmed by you any time soon!?”
“Of course she will!”, scoffed Oikawa, stood in front of him with his hands on his hips.
“I really hope not!”
“You're so mean, Iwa–chan!” he whined. “You're supposed to support me!”
“And you to set for me!”
“Fine! Just let me flirt in peace!”
Practice was over, and everything went really well. Everyone had given their best and improved. So, clearly, they were utterly exhausted. Like a herd of sheep, they stumbled to get their hands on any form of water, and it came with her freshly filled canteens placed in line on the bench against the wall. They gorged them down till not even a drop was left, as if they lived in a desert for days.
A clap got their attention, and from their positions on the floor, they all turned to look at their manager. “You guys really have outdone yourselves today!”, she smiled at every single boy, who seemed on the verge of dying on the floor.
“At this rate, we'll make Karasuno eat dust at the next match!”, she cheered in an attempt to lift their motivation. But in return she only got a choir of pained groans, heavy breathing and complaints. Huffing, she folded her arms over her cerulean t–shirt and sent them all a pointed look.
“Hey! What's all these huffs? It's not a funeral, cmon!”, she reprimanded half-heartedly.
“No shit, Sherlock”, she mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Okay then! Since you're so exhausted, you won't be getting your bento box today!”
Kindaichi immediately shot up. “H-Hey! I never said I didn't want it!”
“But you clearly need to rest!”
“Manager-san! Please?”, he begged at her feet.
“No buts”, she said firmly, and looked at the others lying on the floor. “And unless some of you want to keep Kindaichi here company, you better get your spirits up and react!”
And since they were apparently desperate for food, they sat up and let out murmurs of agreement when Iwaizumi spoke up; “She's right, guys! We can beat Karasuno”
She smiled satisfied and went to retrieve the bento boxes on the bench. She handed out one each, receiving quiet thanks and tired smiles– especially Kindaichi, who looked like he was about to hug her legs. And when she got to Oikawa, she sighed loudly. He was still laid down on the floor, legs spread out like a starfish and his arms folded under his head, looking up at her grinning lazily.
“Hey manager”, he greeted, making no move to sit up and grab the bento box she was holding out.
“Take it, Oikawa”, she urged.
“Wait, I'm contemplating your beauty from down here”, he answered. “You know, since I'm used to see the top of your head”
She sighed and went on to Kunimi, who took it without a word. And that received muffled snorts from a few of the guys.
“What are you all laughing at, eh?”, pouted Oikawa.
“It's really amusing to see her ignoring your pick up lines”, answered Shigeru while taking a big bite.
He scoffed and sat up, frowning at them. “Well, well, well. For one, she's not ignoring me. She's playing hard to get. But that's fine! ‘Cause I'm stubborn”, he stated. “And two, I genuinely doubt any of you are getting better luck than me with girls!”
“You do know you're not the only handsome guy in the world, right?”, raised his eyebrows unimpressed Iwaizumi.
“But of course, Iwa–chan! You're second after me!”
“That's not what I meant”, tried Iwaizumi, but he lost every ounce of attention he had from Oikawa when the manager passed in front of him to retrieve her own bento box.
He leaned on his knees and grinned mischievously. “Hey manager!”, he called out, but got no response, making the guys laugh again. “So you played volleyball, huh?”
“... What about it?”, she answered uncertain.
“Well, I was thinking–”
“–That only means bad news”, snorted Kindaichi.
Oikawa ignored him. “–As I was saying. I was thinking that I could call ‘mine’ at you and you'd immediately reject any other guy who asks you out?”
The guys lost it completely. They all burst out laughing at his horrible pick up line. “Cringe!”, groaned someone in the midst of the chaos.
He paid them no mind and kept his eyes trained over her, peacefully eating her lunch. “I know we're not socks, but I know for sure we'd be a great couple”
The laughter became even louder. At this point, everyone was teasing Oikawa. Mimicking his voice and laughing their asses off at his spence. “That's even worse!” “I'm about to die here!”
And amongst the chaos, with some holding their stomachs with tears in their eyes and others teasing their captain like there was no tomorrow, their manager was chuckling behind her hand.
“Hey Oikawa”, she called out softly.
Oikawa’s ears seemed programmed to hear and recognise her voice miles away and even in a ear–deafening din, because his head immediately turned to her, and he was met with a sight he knew would come sooner or later. The pretty manager was smiling. Smiling at him. He could already see himself giving out his victory speech to the boys while they all stared incredulously, because the ungrateful bitches didn't have faith in his flirting.
She chuckled at the cocky smile growing rapidly on his face, and it truly felt like watching a match won 3 – 0 against Shiratorizawa or playing in Nationals for him.
“Yeah, Manager?”
“If you promise to stop with those shitty pickup lines, I'll gladly say yes to that date you never asked me on to”
