zeebee

Qifrey's good at hiding and smiling through everything he needs to. The facade is there for a reason. So it feels a little strange to get to kiss you so often now that you're properly settled into the Atelier. Sometimes he gets a little distracted, and what's supposed to be a stolen kiss ends up being him holding you there hostage for kissing properly.

It doesn't matter for the most part since Olruggio is in and out of the place, but sometimes he forgets that his girls have the keys and they too are in and out of the house.

Cue his current issue.

Qifrey's got you half melted against him, licking his lips as he pulls back for air, and he's halfway into kissing you when the door clicks, and chattering stops when it swings open.

The girls freeze in place, and Richeh is the one to speak up.

"Did we... come at a bad time?"

Qifrey wipes his mouth with a handkerchief, turning to face his girls as you push him off of you, sitting down at the table to catch your breath.

"Told you it was a bad idea."

"Hi girls." He smiles, and the four of them blink.

Coco threw her hands over her eyes second she caught a glimpse, and Tetia's got stars in her eyes that Qifrey thinks is going to become a barrage of questions. Agott, well.

"Could the two of you not picked a better place?"

"Qifrey's fault."

You're quick to throw him under the bus, laughing as you stand up to dust your skirt off.

"I'm hurt, love."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Tetia fires a round of questions at you, hopping over, and Qifrey tends to the other girls as they ask how things have been.

Well. Considering that they caught the two of you kissing like that, things can't be bad at all.

A/n: It took me longer than I'd like to admit to get these screen shots for my thing cause Tiktok is a pain.

The first time you see it, you genuinely think it’s a rock.

Not even a nice rock. It wasn't smooth or polished or even remotely symmetrical...just… a lumpy, uneven piece of stone hanging from a leather cord that looks like it lost a fight with a dull knife. One side is thicker than the other, the edges are jagged in places, and there’s a very obvious crack running through what was probably supposed to be the center.

You stare at it.

Then you blink.

Then you look back up at Sokka.

He’s standing there in the middle of your shared apartment in Republic City, shoulders squared like he’s about to go into battle, hands awkwardly shoved behind his back like he doesn’t trust them not to betray him, and his face. His face is so serious it almost makes you laugh.

Almost.

“…what is that?” you ask carefully, tilting your head.

Sokka immediately bristles. “Wow. Okay. Great start. Love the enthusiasm. Really feeling the support here.”

“I’m asking,” you say, stepping closer, squinting at the object in his hand. “Because it looks like something you dug out of the street...."

“It is not from the street,” he snaps, offended. “I went all the way out past the lower ring to find that rock.”

“…you’re not helping your case.”

He huffs, dragging a hand down his face before thrusting it toward you with a kind of stubborn determination. “It’s a betrothal necklace.”

You freeze then suddenly the air shifts, just slightly but it's enough that everything suddenly feels heavier, quieter, more real.

Your gaze drops back down to the necklace in his hand, and this time… you look properly.

Really look.

The uneven carving suddenly makes sense. The shallow grooves, too shallow in some places, too deep in others, form a pattern you don’t recognize at first… until you realize it’s meant to be flames. Crude, messy flames curling around the center.

Fire.

You swallow.“…you made this?” your voice comes out softer than you meant it to.

Sokka exhales sharply, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah. I mean...obviously. You think I’d buy one? That’s not how it works.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “The guy’s supposed to carve it himself. Tradition.”

You step closer.

Carefully, like approaching something fragile, even though the stone itself is anything but delicate.

“It’s…” you pause, choosing your words very, very carefully. “…very handmade.”

“Wow,” he deadpans. “I’m framing that compliment.”

“I’m serious!” you protest, though a smile tugs at your lips. “It’s just....Sokka, this is terrible craftsmanship.”

“I KNOW,” he blurts, throwing his hands up. “Do you think I don’t know that? I broke three tools, I almost lost a finger, and some old guy tried to charge me extra because I was ‘butchering the art of stone carving.’ I get it, okay? It’s not perfect.”

You’re laughing now, unable to help it, but there’s something warm blooming in your chest, something that makes your eyes sting just a little you had to blink a few times.

Because you can see it.

Every uneven line.

Every mistake.

Every stubborn attempt to keep going anyway.

“You made this,” you repeat quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing away. “Spent like… two weeks on it. Which, for the record, is two weeks of my life I will never get back.”

Your heart squeezes, a few tears slip free.

“And,” he continues, voice dropping just slightly, “you don’t have to take it. I mean...obviously. No pressure. It’s just a thing. A tradition thing. Cultural. Symbolic. Not a big deal.”

You step into his space, close enough that he finally looks at you again.

“It is a big deal,” you say softly.

His breath catches.

You reach out slowly, taking the necklace from his hand. It’s heavier than you expected, rough against your fingers, warm from where he’s been holding it.

“The design,” you murmur, tracing the uneven carvings. “It’s supposed to be fire, right?”

He nods, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I figured… you know. Firebender. Flames. Symbolism. I’m very deep like that.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head.“It’s crooked,” you add.

“I know.”

“And uneven.”

“I know.”

“And I think this side is thicker than the other.”

“I—yes, okay, thank you, I’ve noticed—”

“And I love it.”

He stops, completetly still now. “…what?”

You look up at him, smiling softly, eyes bright, tears gathered in the corner. “I love it,” you repeat, more firmly this time. “Because you made it. Because you tried. Because you kept going even when it was hard.” Your fingers tighten slightly around the stone. “Because it’s yours.”

Sokka stares at you like you’ve just hit him with a brick.

Emotion flickers across his face. Shock, disbelief, something softer underneath that he doesn’t quite know how to handle. “…it’s still really ugly,” he says weakly.

“Yeah,” you agree immediately. “It’s awful.”

He lets out a strangled laugh.

You step closer, lifting the cord slightly. “Put it on me.”

His breath hitches, eyes wide watching you.“Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly serious again, searching your face. “Because once I do this isn’t just....this means—”

“I know what it means,” you interrupt gently.

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken and then slowly he nods his head.

His hands are careful, so much more careful than you expected from someone who just admitted to nearly losing a finger as he reaches behind your neck, tying the leather cord securely into place. His fingers brush your skin, warm and a little rough, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

When he pulls back, the stone settles against your collarbone.

Heavy.

Real.

Yours.

You glance down at it, then back up at him.

“Well?” he asks, suddenly nervous again. “How does it look?”

You tilt your head thoughtfully.“…like a rock.”

He groans. “I walked right into that.”

You grin, stepping forward and grabbing his tunic, pulling him down just enough to press a quick, firm kiss to his lips.

When you pull back, his brain is very clearly not functioning.

“It looks perfect,” you murmur.

ᦸ he might be an idiot, but an attractive, sweet idiot ⸝⸝ sexual themes mentioned ⸝⸝ not proofread.

boyfriend!sokka is a funny man, okay? We're aware? He's constantly trying to keep a smile on your lips from his shenanigans—and is beyond proud of himself whenever he's got you laughing hard enough to wheeze.

He loves the sound of your laugh, startling you in bed with kisses just to hear one giggle; it's always so cute whenever the noise slows & you're left smiling at each other like idiots.

boyfriend!sokka is far more affectionate than most would assume; he likes resting his head on your chest, your fingers tangled in his hair—sprawled out in bed, lying on the ground, or ducking into you during a hug—he lives for the feeling of your heartbeat in his ear.

The feeling of your fingers threading through the strands, or your lips brushing the scalp while teasing him for being so touchy, while still touching him, is always so intimate.

boyfriend!sokka has woken you up—more than once, unfortunately—to tell you an idea for a new weapon he could use as a non-bender, wanting to get your opinions first on how practical you'd think it'd be for him to have before sinking time and effort into it.

He loves bringing home his finished inventions to show you first & show you how he plans to use them and the main purpose each one has.

boyfriend!sokka uses his biceps for good—picking you up & carrying you around the apartment—though that's only as a joke to prove his strength whenever you try to tease him.

Though sometimes he will pick you up whenever he gets home & carry you straight to your bed, with his arm curled tightly around you to ensure you don't slip, complaining just how much he's missed you.

boyfriend!sokka yaps frequently. He'll yap half-asleep, drowsily mumbling into your shoulder, while getting ready, showering together, during aftercare, and he'll even talk your ear off during sex.

If he has the opportunity to talk to his pretty girl, he's going to take it, even if it's in an odd situation or just to tell you something stupid. The audible excitement always fills you with a sweet warmth.

boyfriend!sokka loves it when you scratch the buzzed sections of his scalp; he'll close his eyes & lean into your touch while pulling you close. It's always so visible to his friends how lovesick he is for you.

He doesn't care how it looks to others, with him being so receptive to your affections. You toy with his hair; he toys with yours. You kiss him on the cheek, he kisses you on the cheek, and he lives for the chance to show his friends how affectionate he is with you.

boyfriend!sokka is a passionate boyfriend and proud. He does not play around; he always thinks it's so stupid when he sees a boyfriend pretending not to be in love with their girlfriend.