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Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.
Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.
It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.
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Bookmarked by daytimes
07 Jun 2026
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Sokka is wondering when he started thinking that the color of Zuko’s eyes was inimitable. A gold that was almost molten. Or when he started categorizing Zuko’s expressions. Or the effect of his rolled-up sleeves exposing toned forearms. Sokka didn’t even realize that could be something he was into.
Bookmarked by daytimes
31 May 2026
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The sight of your profile makes me weak in the knees by Sparklingwithjoy
Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender
27 Apr 2024
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Sokka has a staring problem. He can’t stop looking at Zuko and -he knows it’s obvious, from Katara’s side looks and Toph’s snickering, but he can’t keep himself from doing it. Zuko is just too pretty.
Bookmarked by daytimes
19 May 2026
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Oh, the tenderness of his habits by Sparklingwithjoy
Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005)
02 Sep 2025
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This Zuko is quieter, and he has a tenderness to him that surprised Sokka.
There is something lovely about it.
Bookmarked by daytimes
18 May 2026
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“I loved her. Even after everything she was still my sister,” Zuko says, but it’s thin and wavering, like he’s unsure. Trying to convince himself that it’s true. The soul-shaking notion that he dared to love his own flesh and blood. “Did she know that?”
Sokka can’t say that she did, in the state he last saw Azula. He doesn’t have any warm fuzzy feelings for his husband’s psychotic sister who shot Zuko in the chest with a crackling blue lightning bolt. Some nights he’ll lean over Zuko in the moonlight and trace the many scars his family, his kingdom, his birthright had given him. He’s angry with them. But then he thinks of Katara and the village they called home. How they played and loved together with their family as if it were almost whole, smiles as bright as the snow, even in the shadow of war.
Zuko didn’t have that. A tangible love written in laughter and child’s play. He supposes Azula didn’t either.
(Or Zuko and Sokka come to terms with Azula's death)
Bookmarked by daytimes
16 May 2026