They Can Never Make Me Hate You

this made me smile and giggle and kick my feet ahhhhhhhh

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

Magneto, calmly entering the kitchen with his hair all messed up and hickeys on his neck: Good morning.

Logan: Morning. Want coffee?

Magneto: Please, before the rest of the mansion wakes up and finds out I'm here.

Scott, who clearly didn't sleep and is ready for combat: WE ALREADY KNOW! AND WE ALSO KNOW WOLVERINE'S BOYFRIEND IS HERE!

HELP WHILE Ao3 IS DOWN SOME PEOPLE ARE POSTING FICS IN THE DOWNDETECTOR COMMENTS 😭😭😭

I’M SCREAMING

I hear all your 'Wade fell first and Logan fell harder' plotlines and thats incredibly based but i raise you the opposite.

At the end of the film, Wade is quite literally Logan's entire world. Hes HIS marvel jesus. He dragged him out of his depression pit, sent him on an emotional rollercoaster, fucked him in a honda oddessy and gave him a new home, new family and new reason to live. He was prepared to die for him, and then with him, three days after meeting him, and when they survive he immediately agrees to move in with him like a domesticated stray. Bro might like Wade juuuust a little bit methinks.

Meanwhile Wade is very casual and enthusiastic when it comes to hookups/flirting/physical contact, the whole deal, and he was 100% down the entire fucking film to get in Logan's pants. But i think when it comes to real romantic feelings hes much slower to develop and realise them. And god forbid he try to pursue the person with his self worth issues (of course THE Wolverine wouldnt be interested in him, ha! Can you imagine?). But when he falls, he falls HARD. Vanessa was previously the only person he truly liked romantically, and i dont think hes fully over her yet at the end of the film. But over time with his new roommate and their dog, it just hits him like a fucking train.

He looks at Logan one day, maybe in the late morning after a long night of merc work when hes making them coffee wearing Wade's too tight shirt with dogpool under his arm and instead of daydreaming about sucking him off sloppy style like usual Wade just thinks. Huh. I kinda wanna just kiss him right now, maybe go on a nice little date and pick out baby names together- wait what.

Im just thinkign. I dont think Wade would be so quick to jump to a real romantic relationship, his feelings towards that sort of thing are much more intense than just his usual lust and i dont think he'd pursue it right off the bat. But they figure it out, of course they do.

Night version

*my resume to work for Avatar Studios*

*Please blow me up*

talking to guys vs girls is so different like for example -

me: i love taylor swift

girl: omg me too

me: omg really???? whats your fav song????

*instant friends*

VS

me: i love taylor swift

guy: ew youre a basic white girl

me: wtf im not even white

guy: idc she sucks and is stupid

*instant block*

this was based on two very real conversations i had in the past two weeks anywyas

I simply do not understand why marauders fans make ship names using nouns/adjectives. Just combine their names like a normal fandom. And half the time you can’t even tell what ship it’s supposed to be. I saw flower used three times for three different people in different ships. This system makes no sense. And then people will use completely different reasonings for the adjectives. Like rosekiller, rose because it’s his last name and killer because he fucking kills people like what? It is so confusing to me guys. Please stop this madness. 

Happy Lunar New Year! (with the gaang ><)🧧🥮

Discoveries (That I Panic About)

Hakoda stood at the front of the ship, gripping the railings to see if he could see the Fire Nation and where his children were.

He had been very busy, slowly but surely rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe with Malina. But now he had time to visit.

As he traveled to the Fire Nation, where his children were, he wondered what the announcement they had mentioned in their letters was. 

Katara had only spoke of it briefly, talking more about the young Avatar Aang, but she did say that it might surprise him, and it would be good for Water Tribe and Fire Nation relations.

Sokka was more enthusiastic, stating what Katara had said, but also that he was so pleased with the proposal that he agreed immediately. Aang, the Avatar, was apparently also excited for the announcement. Even Toph Beifong, who was all the way in the Earth Kingdom and busy with her metal bending school, had traveled to the Fire Nation.

So really, this declaration would be phenomenal, and would cause an entire chapter to be made in the history books.

But there was one specific letter out of the eyebrow-raising three that had surprised him immensely.

It was from Firelord Zuko.

Zuko, the poor boy, had sounded very anxious and desperate to please in his letter. He promised that he wasn’t forcing anyone do anything, and that he and Sokka had both agreed this would be the best route, and that he was very hopeful that Hakoda would be accepting of their decision.

And while Hakoda had to admit that he was a bit skeptical of how good this choice was, considering they were just children ruling over an entire nation, he did trust Zuko enough to not have any doubts that all parties had consented to this choice.

Suddenly there was yelling, shaking him out of his thoughts and alerting Hakoda that they were close to the Fire Nation now.

When they finally arrived, the entire Water Tribe was in for a slight shock as a massive furry bison flew in and roared. Of course they had seen the animal before, but perhaps not this close. Avatar Aang immediately leapt off his beast, apologizing profusely to the surprised warriors.

“I didn’t mean to scare you!’ He blabbered. “It’s just Appa trying to greet you! I’m so, so, so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

Hakoda gave him an amused smile, placing his hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “It’s quite alright, Aang.”

“Dad!” 

Hakoda just had barely enough time to see a blurr of blue and brown before he was engulfed in a massive hug, almost knocking him off balance. He grinned warmly. “Katara! Oh, look at you! You’ve certainly grown.”

She beamed. “Oh, Dad, the preparations are amazing! You have to see it.”

“That sounds wonderful, Katara,” Hakoda said, “But I was wondering where your brother was?” 

Katara smiled, albeit a bit mischeiviously. “Oh, he’s in the palace. He’s busy with preparations and stressing over every detail on this very, very special day.”

Hakoda frowned a bit. “Are you sure he’s okay? I don’t want him overworking himself.”

Katara shakes her head. “Don’t worry, Dad. With Zuko there, Sokka won’t even overwork an hour.”

Hakoda nodded, a bit hesitantly. “Well, if you say so.”

And then Katara and Aang started dragging him along, insisting that they can’t be late. Hakoda shot a confused and pleading glance towards Bato, who just shook his head and smiled.

Traitor.

*

“Katara! Oh, hey, Twinkle Toes,” Toph said. “And Hakoda.” She added, a bit like an afterthought.

Katara smiled at the younger girl. “Hey, Toph!” She replied, Aang following suit. “Do you know where Sokka is?”

Toph snorted. “He’s with Zuko, as per usual.” She responded, sounding incredibly exasperated. Hakoda assumed that his son and the Firelord were good friends.

Katara nodded. “That’s good. Come on, Dad!”

The dragging started up once more, with Toph following, but thankfully this time it was much shorter. They stopped in front of two massive bronze doors, accented with shining gold. It looked like a door for royalty, and it also looked very similar to the entrance of the Fire Lady’s room described in Sokka’s letters. Hakoda couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Why is Sokka in the Firelord’s room?”

Katara and Aang exchanged glances. They both smiled knowingly, as if Hakoda had said something a bit stupid and was being oblivious. He was mildly insulted by that.

“Oh, that’s not Zuko’s room! It’s Sokka’s.” Aang said casually, as if the knowledge that his son was living in a room made for royalty was inconsequential.

Katara pushed the doors open, revealing Sokka sitting at a desk, with Zuko beside him, incredibly close and having an arm around his son’s shoulders.

“Oi, Snoozles!” Toph yelled, and the two boys jumped apart. Sokka and Zuko both twisted their heads to face all four of them, their eyes blown ridiculously wide.

When Sokka saw Hakoda, his eyes grew even wider, something that had seemed impossible to Hakoda. “Dad!” Sokka exclaimed, and ran over. Sokka tackled him in a hug, which Hakoda was quick to reciprocate.

Hakoda laughed a little. “Look at you, Sokka!” He said. “You’ve grown into a fine young warrior.”

Sokka beamed with pride at the praise. Zuko looked on at them and smiled.

And this was when Hakoda discovered something very important.

He looked down.

And he saw…

A blue choker.

On his son’s neck.

Shocked, Hakoda shoved him away, confused.

Sokka looked hurt, while the others stared at him, mildly flabbergasted.

“You– you have,” Hakoda stutters through his words, “Since when? Who?”

Sokka looks confused at first, and Hakoda wants to shake him, begging for answers like a hungry, desperate man demanding apples from a tree. Thank Tui and La, Sokka understands. His face flushes right down to the roots of his hair and he glances at his sister desperately. “You didn’t tell him?!”

She shrugged, much to innocently. “It’s you who has the necklace. You tell him.”

“But– but… Ugh!” Sokka groaned.

“Sokka,” Hakoda said, very, very slowly. “When did this happen? And with who?”

Sokka paled, and swallowed. Then swallowed again. He looked like he needed a drink. And, admittedly, Hakoda did too.

“I– I,” He stammered. “It just happened, like, last week! It’s very, very recent news, Dad, I promise!”

“And who…” Hakoda started gesticulating wildly, “Was it that nice girl from Kyoshi? Suki?”

Sokka choked. “Dad, Dad, no! Spirits, no, we broke up! We’re just friends!”

“But then…” Hakoda’s gaze shifted towards the Firelord. There was a high blush on his cheeks. Hakoda looks back at Sokka’s necklace. There’s a Fire Nation symbol inscribed on the purple stone hanging from the blue collar. “You– you– Zuko??”

Sokka grimaced and nodded. “Dad,” He said, gesturing to Zuko, “Meet your future son-in-law.”

And Hakoda faints.

*

When Hakoda came back to himself, he finds he is in the palace’s infirmary.

He also finds his children and their group looking over him anxiously.

Instantly, Hakoda finds himself wrapped in another hug.

“Kids?” He said lowly.

“Glad you’re awake, Dad.” Katara said, smiling.

Zuko stepped forward, a little awkwardly because his Firelord garb was so heavy on him. He bowed. “Um, hello, Hakoda, sir,” He said. “I– I know I didn’t exactly make a, uh, good first impression as your future son-in-law–”

Hakoda stopped him when he took his hand. Maybe he should be against this. Maybe he should shout at Sokka, tell him to break it off, because this was the Firelord, and the Firelord was the leader of a nation that took so much from him. 

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because a leader is not responsible for his nation’s past mistakes, they are responsible to fix them.

He couldn’t, because when he looked at the Firelord, all he could see was a young, terrified boy named Zuko. A young boy who grew up to fast, and was forced to save the world, a heavy burden on his shoulders.

“It’s quite alright,” He said honestly, “I was… ah, very… shocked?”

Toph snorted. “Seems like an understatement.” Hakoda ignored her.

“But, I must assure you,” He continued, “I approve of this. You were right, Katara, in the fact that this might strengthen Water Tribe and Fire Nation relations, but I can also see how close you and Zuko are, Sokka.”

Sokka looked like he was going to cry, and he hugged Hakoda even tighter than before. “Thank you, Dad,” He whispered. “Thank you.”

And so, is really any surprise that Hakoda cries during the announcement?

He is just so, so proud.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

zuko: sokka, sokka, did u notice the color of the necklace???

sokka: ofc why?

zuko: its purple bc us yk?? fire nation and water tribe??

sokka: oh my god you're so cheesy ily

also why when i try to write this super light-hearted fic it just turns out to be a lil angsty does anyone else experience that????

also zuko is a bloody simp change my mind

Love this new trend of gay princes <3<3