#drawing is so great how did i survive without it

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Celestial

Summary: Snapshots of your relationship with Kamala Khan. This story takes place in the Family AU.

Warning: fluff, small amount of angst, mention of panic attack, self harm, first kiss, shovel talks, Kamala is head over heals for the reader and the reader is trying their best, mention of past trauma

Note: Tagging @jusnough for the idea!

Word Count: 4.2K

It wasn’t the most ideal of timing. A lot was happening, especially with the trail you were preparing for. Your parents were stressed. You were stressed, which was 100% understandable, but Kamala wanted to plan something special and then maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. Baby steps. She couldn’t get ahead of herself. There was a plan. First, ask your parents permission to date you. Second, she needed to survive the shovel talk they no doubt had for her. Third, ask Tony for a favor. Finally, take you on a date and make it a great day. Easy. Simple. Kamala was going to throw up.

She found your parents in the kitchen. You had a checkup with Helen, so it was a perfect time to walk to them. Natasha saw her first while Wanda focused on the lunch she was making. “She should be done soon,” the Black Widow said to her. “She’s with Helen.”

“I know,” Kamala said. “I was wondering if I could speak with the both of you.” Natasha raised an eyebrow in question. Kamala believed she was fearless. She fought alongside the Avengers, looked danger in the eye, and did not back down. It was impressive for a high school student. Starring down your parents was a new level of fear she’d never experienced. “I want to take Y/n on a date, and I know she has a lot going on, but I want to do something nice for her,” the couple stayed quiet. “She means a lot to me,” Kamala decided to continue. “I don’t know everything she has been through, but I know I’d never hurt her like that. I mean, I may hurt her. But not intentionally,” she added on quickly. “I am sometimes an idiot,” Wanda chuckled. “I think I should shut up.”

“Probably for the best kid,” Natasha smirked. Kamala cringed and scratched the back of her head. The Black Widow leaned on the counter and narrowed her eyes at Kamala. “You are about our daughter,” Kamala nodded. “Being with her won’t be easy.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Kamala turned to look at Wanda. Some days may be good, others may be bad.” Again, she nodded her head. Kamala knew healing wasn’t linear, but she was ready to catch you when you needed her. “She may lash out, shut you out, or blame you for feelings she can’t place.”

“Are you committed to that?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Kamala answered without hesitation. It was not going to be easy, and she knew that. Even her friends told her to stay away, and she tried. But there was something about you that kept drawing her in: your shy smile, the soft look in your eyes when you hung out with your brothers, and your laugh. Your laugh was Kamala’s favorite. She loved hearing it.

“Okay,” Natasha said. But if you hurt her, not even Danvers will save you.” Kamala gulped and watched the couple focus back on making lunch.

“Right, got it. Aye, aye, captain,” Kamala gave them a salute, spun around, and headed towards Tony’s lab. Phase 1 and 2 was a success onto Phase 3.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Natasha sighed once Kamala was out of earshot. “What is it?” Wanda asked, nudging the Black Widow with her hip. Is it hard to believe our daughter is dating?”

“No,” she washed her hands and dried them. “Well, yes, but that means Hill won the bet.” The witch laughed and shook her head. She was not part of the bet between the older team members on how soon Kamala would ask you out. Natasha had her bets on after the trial, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Wanda knew how good Kamala was for you, but the mother bear inside her worried. You’ve gone through so much. She wanted to protect your heart as much as she could.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Calm down,” Kate said. That was the opposite effect the archer was going for. It heightened your anxiety as you passed back and forth in her room at the Avenger tower.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said. “I’ve never been on a date before. Kamala approached you and asked if you wanted to hang out with her. You were to be ready at noon, and Happy would drive you to this secret location. She gave you no clue on where you were going. You were oblivious to this being a date until you turned around and saw the smirks on Tommy and Billy’s faces.

The twins teased you until you were a stuttering mess, which got them grounded. This caused you to panic, which led you here with Kate.

“Bug, I need you to breathe,” Kate said as if it was the simplest thing, but you couldn’t. You’ve gone on one ‘date’ since the Blip, and that was with Jason. That needed horribly. Everyone took something from you; they took and took until you were a husk of your former self. “It’s only Kamala.” It was a simple statement that was supposed to lessen your anxiety, but it made it worse. “Sit down,” you sat next to her, but your leg continued to bounce.

“Do you trust her?” You nodded. She’s done nothing to break your trust. “Does she make you smile? Laugh? Do you feel at ease when you are around her?” Again, you nodded. “Do you like her?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Then enjoy your day with her. You guys are just hanging out,” you nodded and stood up. Once again, you started to pace. At this point, you would pace a hole in the floor.

“Right,” you bite your thumb. “What do I wear?” You walked over to the archer’s closet. You had a limited wardrobe here, but you knew you could wear something that Kate or Yelena owned.

“Keep it casual. Maybe jeans and a cute top. Oh! Bring that sweater Wanda gifted you. You might get cold.” Your brain slowly processed what she said. She knew where Kamala was taking you. You spun around to face the archer. Kate was looking at everything in her room beside you.

“Where is she taking me?”

“I’ve sworn to secrecy and threatened by bodily harm if I told you.”

“Kate!” You whined and flopped on the bed next to her. She laughed at your dramatics and pushed you on your back.

“You are so cute when you throw a tantrum,” she pointed at your cheek. Your pout deepened. “Trust, bug. Trust that she knows you well enough to not push you out of your comfort zone.” You nodded. In reality, you wanted the date to go well. With the upcoming trial, you wanted to have a good day.

“I’m thinking about the blue jeans and the light pink top. The sweater will go nice with both.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The ride to the mysterious location was fun. You thought it would be awkward with Happy, but Kamala filled the silence with stories. When the car stopped, Kamala was quick to get out first. She opened your door, offered you her hand, and you took it. You stood at the corner of Central Park West and West 76th Street. Kamala spoke with Happy before he drove away. “Ready?” She asked you. You nodded and followed her to the American Museum of National History. You were surprised by the lack of people waiting to get in. A new exhibit opened about the advancement in modern medicine. You’ve been dying to go, but the increase in popularity caused considerable crowds to form at the museum.

Kamala gave you a reassuring smile and led you up the steps of the museum. Her hand is still holding tight onto yours. It was quiet when she opened the door, and no one was in the lobby. “Kamala Khan?” A worker walked over. It would help if you had listened to try to understand what was happening, but you were fascinated by how quiet it was. You could hear the slight hum of the air conditioning. There was no yelling of excited children or the echo of footsteps moving from one exhibit to the next. It was quiet, and you enjoyed it. A weight was lifted off your chest. The tingly feeling you sometimes felt when you were in crowds was gone.

Kamala squeezed your hand, and you looked at the girl. A teasing smile was on her face. “Were you talking to me?”

“I was but you seemed a little distracted,” you felt your body heat up and you mumbled a quiet, ‘Sorry.’ But Kamala shook her head. “Don’t be. Come on. The exhibit you want to see is over here.” You let the girl guide you.

“Kamala,” you said and forced her to stop. You could make a sign explaining the new pop-up. “What is going on? How are we the only people here?” Kamala looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

“I rented out the museum for us. We are going to walk through each exhibit for as long as you want, and then a few of the workers are going to set up food for us. Wanda made your favorite,” she explained. You were a little lost for words. They seemed stuck in the back of your throat. However, Kamala took your silence as rejection. “If you want to do something else, we can.”

“No!” You said suddenly. “Sorry,” you cringed at the sound echoing on the museum walls. “Why did you do this?” Kamala shrugged.

“You mentioned you wanted to see this exhibit but were worried about the crowds,” you mentioned it once. You made an offhand comment while you and Kamala were eating lunch at the tower. She finished training, but you weren’t sure if she was listening. She was. “I asked Tony for a favor, and he pulled some strings, so here we are.”

“I uh-,” you cleared your throat, desperately trying to keep your tears from escaping your eyes. “Thank you.” A smile formed on Kamala’s face, and you allowed yourself to feel butterflies form in your stomach.

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s see why this exhibit is so cool and popular.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was not a fan of museums. You could tell she was trying hard to take in the information you were telling her. For the most part, she was doing well, and she wasn’t rushing you. She let you take your time - reading each plague and adding your commentary. You decided to cut her some slack when her stomach growled for food. How embarrassed she got was cute and led to where the food was. A table was set up in the Invisible Worlds display. The colors weren’t as bright and intense, but it was a unique experience to be here with no one else.

“Wanda helped me make paprikash,” Kamala said, pulling back your chair for you and taking her own when you sat down. “So if it’s horrible, blame her.” You chuckled and opened the food container. It was still warm and smelt great.

“Thank you for today,” you smiled. “I’ve been having a great time.” She took a few sips of her water and cleared her throat.

“I know you have a lot going on,” she offered you her hand, and you took it. “But I wanted to give you one good day and ask if you want to be my girlfriend,” you couldn’t stop the surprise noise that escaped your lips.

“Dating me won’t be easy,” you told her. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a good thing I’m so strong,” she flexed her free arm. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Seriously though, I want to be there for you and help carry some of that baggage.”

You weren’t sure how to give your baggage to someone. You had a track record of picking ones that hurt you. But Kamala was different. Kate made you admit how easy it was to be around her. She made you smile and laugh. You felt safe. “I may fuck this up,” Kamala smiled.

“Are you saying us?” You nodded.

“I am saying yes,” you smiled. “I am saying yes to being your girlfriend.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was multitasking, which wasn’t her strongest suit. She was trying to make you and her a plate of food while keeping an eye on you. She knew you would be quiet after the trial, but she was still worried. You seemed lost in thought while you sat near the fire pit. It wasn’t lit, but you were watching it as if the flames were there. “You are holding up the line,” Yelena said. Kamala jumped.

“Sorry, I was-”

“It is fine,” Yelena said, following her gaze to you. It was Billy’s turn to try to pull you out of whatever your mind was creating. “You are worried, I understand,” Yelena said, taking the plate meant for you and helping Kamala add to it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come up to me,” Kamala saw the smirk on Yelena’s face. “Am I going to survive this shovel talk?”

“I am not going to threaten bodily harm, or my niece would never forgive me,” Kamala was thankful that the Romanoff-Maximoff family accepted you into their home. “This has been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time; Kamala watched the Blonde put butter on a piece of corn for you. “Her heart has been broken by people who were supposed to protect it,” she sighed and looked at you. The Bartons were now with you. “I am surprised she was strong enough to offer it to someone else. You must be special,” Yelena handed the now full plate back to her. “Don’t misplace that trust.”

“I won’t,” Kamala said before Yelena could walk away. I may mess up, but I would never be like the others.” The Blonde looked over her shoulder, scanning Kamala up and down.

“I know,” the Black Widow smirked. “Just keep it that way, or there will be consequences.”

“I thought you said no to bodily harm,” Kamala called out after her. She heard Yelena laugh.

“I am a Black Widow,” she said. “I can do more than hurt you physically.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Maybe Kamala was overthinking it. Your phone could have died, you could have been sick, or something bad happened, and no one was telling her. It was strange that you missed a scheduled date and weren’t answering your phone. So it was a quick taxi ride from the tower to your house, and she was knocking on the front door. “Kamala,” Wanda answered the door. What are you doing here?”

“Is she here?” Kamala asked. “We were supposed to meet up, and she isn’t answering me, so I just need to make sure she’s okay and safe,” Wanda gave her a sad smile and stepped to the side. Kamala walked in and followed the witch into the kitchen.

“She’s in her room,” Wanda said, pouring her a glass of water and beginning to prepare a small board of snacks. “It’s not her intention to ignore you, but today was a bad day.”

“It’s been a bad day,” Kamala said slowly back and took a piece of cheese that Wanda offered. She remembered Wanda telling her that some days were bad. Wanda crossed her arms and leaned on top of the counter.

“With everything she’s been through, some days are better than others,” the witch sighed. “She had therapy this morning, so maybe that caused it, or it could have been a nightmare or none of the above. We may never know.”

“Can I-can I go see her?” Kamala asked. Wanda smiled.

“Of course. Bring her this,” she pointed to the board. “She hadn’t eaten, but don’t be upset if she didn’t want to see you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The world seemed to be covered in a foggy haze. Everything seemed to move slower. Your body felt heavy, and it took so much energy to go to the bathroom. You barely heard the knock on your door. “Hey, sweetheart,” it was Kamala. “Can I come in?” You rolled to your side to face the door. You hated that she was going to see you like this. You missed her and you hated yourself that you missed your date.

“Yeah,” you whispered. The door opened, and Kamala came in holding a plate of snacks and glass filled with juice.

“Hi,” she smiled and closed the door. Wanda made you a little snack platter because she said you hadn’t eaten.” Kamala placed the food on the side table. Something inside you snapped. You felt it all day, and you tried to keep it buried inside. Seeing Kamala being so nice after you ignored her all day broke it. Everything came bubbling over. A broken sob escaped your lips. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Can I hug you? Do you need a hug?” You sat up in bed and cried harder.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. You wanted to fall into her arms and be safe, but the idea of her touching you sent shivers down your spine. Why was everything so complicated? Why were you so broken? You began to scratch at your wrists.

“I need you to stop doing that,” you heard Kamala say, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to feel anything besides this suffocating weight. Suddenly, Kamala’s hands grabbed yours, and you fought against her. “I know, I know,” Kamala cooed, pulling you against her chest. Her arms held you tightly down. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Soft humming filled your ears. Your body slumped against hers, and you cried on her chest.

When your sobs quieted down, you pulled away from her. Your head was pounding, and you felt gross. “Hi, khobsurat (beautiful),” you rolled your eyes.

“I doubt I look beautiful,” Kamala shook her head.

“You will always be beautiful to me,” she could make you flustered. “Do you wanna talk about anything?” She kept her hands on her lap but was itching to hold you. Her fingers were twitching. Sighing, you held out your hand for her to take.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you admitted.

“Like what?” she questioned. It was hard to describe this state you sometimes found yourself in. Sometimes, it felt like you were in a pile of quicksand, and no matter how hard you fought, you kept sinking. “This is a bad day for you. That’s what your mother called it.” You nodded.

“They don’t come often, but when they do, they can be depleting,” you explained. “I wanted to hang out with you today but couldn’t leave my bed. So I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I was worried that you went radio silent, so a text would be nice,” you nodded. You could do that even though you had no idea where your phone was. “But I want to be there when it gets bad. I want to see the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“Even when I miss dates and can’t leave my room.”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “We can just sit here and watch movies as long as I’m with you. I’m happy.” She kissed the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you smiled. It was nice having someone so patient. If you are interested, there is a new movie I want to watch.” You moved against your headboard with your arms. Immediately, Kamala moved into your arms. She sat between your legs with her back against your front. “Thank you,” you said again. It was starting to not feel like enough. Hopefully, one day, you would find more than those two words.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Something changed. You weren’t sure when it happened. You were looking at Kamala’s lips and wondering what they would feel like on yours. She has kissed you on your cheek, the back of your hand, or the top of your head. You were okay with that, but you wanted to kiss her properly. Could you do that? The last time you felt someone’s lips on yours was Dmitri. “Is that math problem that difficult?” Natasha asked. You were doing homework in her office while she was working on a few mission reports. You chuckled and closed the textbook.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, twirling the pencil in our hand. The Black Widow nodded and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Ask away,” she smiled. Was it an appropriate question to ask your mom? You weren’t sure, but the relationship with your mom wasn’t normal. You continued to twirl the pencil.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss Kamala?” You asked. “Do you think it’s too soon?” You added on. You wished you had captured the look on Natasha’s face - eyes wide and shocked. But she recovered quickly. A part of you wondered if she wanted Wanda to be here for this conversation. Natasha sighed.

“I can’t tell you if it’s too soon or not. That is for you to decide,” you groaned and let your head fall back. The Black Widow laughed and pulled you back into a sitting position. “When it comes to kissing and sex, we both have a complicated relationship with it.” You frowned. Slowly, it dawned on you what she meant.

“How did you learn how to trust someone with your body like that again?” You asked. Natasha grabbed your hand and placed them on the back of the couch.

“A lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms,” the Black Widow teased. You rolled your eyes, but your frown remained on your face. “I slept around hoping it would be different, but never until I started seeing Wanda.”

“How?”

“I finally felt safe with her. She made me feel seen. So,” she cringed slightly. “If you feel those things with Kamala, then maybe it’s the right time to open yourself up to that again,” Natasha pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t force it, though, Firefly. You and her have all the time in the world.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were trying to pay attention to the story Kamala was telling. You were lying on the tower’s roof - the night sky was blanketed with stars. It was your turn to plan a date, so you decided to picnic atop the tower. It was peaceful. It felt like you and her were the only people in the city. “Why do I feel like you aren’t listening?” Kamala teased.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I got stuck in my head.” The girl frowned. “I’m okay,” you promised and sat up to reach for your phone. Opening up Spotify, you began to play music. “Do you want to dance with me?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure, I can dance,” you giggled at her nervous rambling. You both stood up; her arms went around your waist, and you put your arms around her neck. It wasn’t really dancing; it was more like swaying side to side to the music. “I had a good time,” she broke the silence.

“Good. So did I,” you glanced at her lips but looked away. Carefully, she spun you in a circle and brought you back into her arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You titled her head. “Where was your head when I was telling you an amazing story?” You chuckled.

“You,” you paused. “You make me feel like my troubled heart is a million miles away. You make me feel like I’m drunk on stars and dancing out into space,” you let out a shaky breath. “When I get lost, I know your arms will be reaching out towards me.” Gently, Kamala cupped your face and forced you to look up at her. “This may go wrong,” your voice shook as your nerves got the best of you. “But can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Kamala sighed. Time seemed to slow down as you inched closer. You could feel the warmth of her breath, and you fought your mind to stay in the present. You tried to push away the darkness that threatened to overtake it.

“Khobsurat,” she whispered, her voice pushing away the darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a soft flutter stirred in your stomach - a mix of nerves and wonder. Then it happened. Her lips touched yours, gentle and tentative. It was soft, warm, and sweet, sending a cascade of warmth down your spine.

For a second, you forgot to breathe. Everything else vanished - no more nerves, no more doubt. Kamala pulled away and rested her forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” you were surprised by that. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“You’ve earned my trust,” you whispered. “You’ve been so patient with me. I-” you couldn’t say it yet. The words felt trapped in your throat. But Kamala nodded.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes,” you smiled. This time, her kiss was more aggressive. She felt more confident in her movements. Her touch was soft against your skin. Natasha was right. This felt different. It felt full of warmth. It felt like love.

[sentientstump]

ETHO DOODLE ETHO DOODLE ETHO DOODLE!

what will etho doodle today?

4. the frogg!

from this post

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[kaeyachi]

some kaeya facts that i want to remind everyone with because I miss him so much! (no angst this time i swear!!...but if you all want angst, I could also deliver hehehe)

1. Kaeya tells the children of Mondstadt some stories! Specifically, one that some forgot or didn't know of is that he has told the orphans under the church's care some horror story about the light in the lamp posts :D He had been shown to do a story telling to Klee while at the Veluriyam Mirage and he has also been reading to Klee her bedtime stories as well

2. Kaeya made Klee's survival rules! Kaeya has definitely done his part on preventing Klee from destroying Mondstadt before Celestia ever could (well, at least lessened the amount of times Mond gets bombed anyway). Anyone else think Kaeya purposely let Klee explode the Good Hunter's stove to avoid going to the Chasm? No? Ok-

3. He takes the attention when he dances! Depending on which language you hear it from, it is either a good or a bad thing. However, I am on team good thing simply because some mercenaries invited him to go dancing with them while he was in Sumeru ( very interesting information, Kaeya! Glad to know they found you so attractive that they did something they don't usually do!)

4. If you call him kind, he will attempt to look mean (and he fails at it lmao), and if he is not being mean, he will try to deny it. The traveler once listed down the kind things he had done for Captain Wu, a Liyue npc, and Kaeya proceeds to tell us that he records people who owe him (which is a lie. He forgot the person he helped TWICE. What he does have a record of is a well-detailed list of Treasure Hoarders and their rankings + patrol areas in Mondstadt). Another instance was during Jean's story quest where Kaeya planned the appreciation party for Jean where he gave the traveler all the credit

5. He is a great gift giver! (unless that person is Diluc because otherwise he will find the ugliest thing ever and gift that... arguably, that kinda sounds like amazing gift giving if we are talking about being an annoying sibling). He remembers passing commentary from friends and coworkers and gifts them accordingly.

6. He has his own intel network (and I'm theorizing that it is just a group of people he has helped before that insisted on paying him back in this way). Kaeya, after some heavy insistence from Captain Wu, asks him if he wants to be a friend or be part of his intel network and follow his commands no matter what. Vile, one of his known informants, also gave us a glimpse as to what it takes to be part of Kaeya's network, and that is the ability to decipher codes and read messages in between.

7. He is incredibly reliable as a knight! Not only do the people of Mondstadt agree that he is the more approachable cavalry captain between him and Diluc, but it is also a known fact that Kaeya has never failed to complete a mission to date (except the one during Diluc's 18th). Nearly every citizen of Mondstadt adores him and knows how reliable he is. Arguably, this success rate could be attributed to his "end justifies the means" mindset that not all find enjoyable, but he is definitely the person to ask if you want something done. Vile has once mentioned that she could just ask Kaeya to do the charming and convincing for her, dubbing him as a prince charming for it.

8. He is one of the people who spends so much time with Klee (potentially attributed by the fact that he also has more free time compared to others). He spends so much time with her that Klee mentions a few interesting things about Kaeya, such as the fact that Albedo draws Kaeya frequently (enough times that Albedo says Kaeya could be drawn by him easily. yes, it's that "three strokes" line lmao) and the fact that Kaeya has saved Klee from solitary confinement a lot. He is shown to be a very effective person when it comes to corralling Klee without making her feel bad as even when he was trying to berate her, he still ended up giving her a possible reward if she listens.

9. He is very meticulous. He willingly spends the time to get himself ready in the clothes that he is wearing, and he likes embellishments. He really is quite the perfectionist in his actions as well. (very Alberich of him!✌️) We can also see this in his handwriting that has been described as "beautiful" and again with his near perfect track record as a knight.

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 18:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angsty feelings, fluff. Hurt/comfort.

--------------------------------------------------

Hunter watched through his visor, HUD illuminated with your steadying vitals. He watched as your chest rose and fell, spasming every so often, heart rate spiking as your face twitched in pain. It nearly broke him.

It was so easy to imagine a future with you - somewhere safe, away from the Empire, away from mercenaries and shady jobs that paid little to nothing. Away from the possibility of a mission that you might not make it back from.

Not just for me, he realized. You’d make a great mother to Omega and his brothers were proud to stand at your side. We all deserve some rest.

Hunter chuckled to himself. When did I get so soft?

He wondered when it had grown so difficult to erect the walls that separated the man within from the soldier trained to perfection. They were built with such a profound sense of professional discipline that it had felt uncomfortable - even painful - when the war came to its inevitable end. All those thoughts and emotions had come crashing together as if the floodgates had opened and it had taken all he had to hold his world together. None of them knew what to do or how to feel, so they threw all they had into surviving a world that was no longer meant for them.

His head told him one thing - keep moving lest the weight of all that is at stake find you asleep and strike - but Hunter was tired of simply surviving. Omega had changed him. You had changed him. It was hard to see the galaxy through a soldier’s perspective now that he had something to lose.

Your fingers wrapped around his hand as it lay beside you, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Hey,” his modulated voice sounded relieved as you blinked groggily awake. He brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Hey,” you replied softly, licking dried lips.

“Here,” he said, gently sitting on the ground behind you. “This’ll help you breathe a little easier.”

Putting two strong hands under your arms, he slowly slid you upwards into a reclining position, careful not to jostle you too much as he rested your back against his chest to relieve the squeezing pressure of gravity.

The strained and tightened muscles took several seconds to quiet their panic at the motion, but soon you felt yourself relax into his chest.

“There you go, nice and easy.” He pulled a hydro pack from his belt and guided your hands as they lifted it to your mouth.

The liquid flowed cool and refreshing across parched lips. It could’ve been poison and you wouldn’t have cared, it was the best water you’d had in what felt like an eternity.

He pulled it away as you grabbed at it with a whine.

“Not too fast,” he chuckled, “You’ll make yourself sick.”

You made a face and he shook his head. If you could see his eyes, you knew they’d be amused.

“How’s the pain?” he asked more seriously.

You stared up at the sky above, “Could be worse, I guess.” It was the truth, but you felt guilty for leaving out how much your ribs throbbed still with every breath or how your leg ached terribly and you couldn’t look at it without wanting to throw up. It was better though, no longer so sharp and overwhelming. The painkillers had done their job though they seemed to be wearing off. You bit your lip, inhaling as best as you could. You could feel him watching.

“You sure? I can give you a little more painkiller, it’s been awhile.”

You let out a breath, “Okay.”

He reached to the side, pulling another syringe from the pocket of the larger medkit before pulling aside the loose fabric and jabbing it into the thigh of your good leg.

Though it was barely a pinch, the muscle tightened and cramped as though it were spring loaded and ready for a fight. It held that way a few long seconds before relaxing once more.

He smells good. Even fully kitted and covered in dust, that familiar scent of an earthy plasma wafted over you, surrounding you with the calm and caring comfort you craved so desperately.

Inhaling evenly with eyes closed, you found your head resting backwards, nestling in the gap between his helmet and chestplate. He rubbed your leg, hand firm and warm beneath his glove.

“Good girl. Relax, you’re okay.”

Good girl. The shame from before rose headily once again - hot and cold all at once.

“Hunter?” you began.

He grunted in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted and for running away. I just want you to know I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

He breathed in, letting it out slowly. “No, I'm sorry.” He paused, moving his hand to brush the hair from your face. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.”

“We both yelled.” You said softly, reaching to the side where his other hand rested on your thigh.

He squeezed your fingers. “Yeah,” he chuckled gently. He grew still as you drew his hand into yours, weaving your fingers between his own.

“I don't hate you, Hunter.”

He shook his head. “I know you don't.” He was silent again. “All those things you heard that day… they weren't true.”

The claw around your chest grew tighter. “W-what…?” It was all you could choke out over a sudden spasming of lungs sending hot bolts of pain searing through your chest, before calming again to a distant agony. He squeezed your hand, seeming to understand the unasked question.

“Tech called you an asset. A member of our team. The same way he'd describe Omega - his sister. But I….” He paused, looking down, helmet still on but easy to read. Uncertain. Afraid. He took a breath. “But I… I said you were more than that to me. I… I think I'm in love with you.”

I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.

…In love with you.

His words played over and over again in your head, tolling like a bell. It didn’t feel like anything at all. Emotional shock, much like its physical counterpart, protected the senses, lulling you into a false sense of denial before hitting you full force and all at once. It almost seemed to good to be true.

Hunter watched your careful silence, a shameful panic beginning to take hold, as you gave no response.

“Don’t…” your voice was quiet, but Hunter knew it well enough to know the flood it held back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say what you don’t mean, Hunter. Please don’t just tell me what I want to hear. It isn’t fair.”

You were tired of crying, tired of that raw burning skin around your eyes, tired of the emotions that built you up only to drag you back down again and again.

“But… I do mean it.” He replied, “I mean every part of it. I love you, cyar’ika. I… I thought I lost you when you left and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”

You sniffed, ignoring how the shuddering breaths sent a growing ache through your chest. “But…. I saw….”

Hunter took a breath. “You saw the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“But…”

He cut you off, “Tara came to me hoping to find a release - some kind of comfort. I couldn’t give that to her and I told her so. I don’t love her. I love you and will only ever love you!”

A whirlwind of emotion combined with already slowing thoughts left you confused, unsure, and at the mercy of that ever present doubting voice.

He can’t love you. You’ve screwed up so many times. You are unworthy.

“You… I can’t…” you began to protest.

“No.” Hunter spoke firmly as if to command that inner voice to submission. “Why do you think you don’t deserve this?”

He shot a second flare into the sky. A flash of light illuminated the darkened, cloudy sky, signaling that the Marauder had acknowledged and would make its way to extract. Hunter turned his head back to you.

“Everyone on that ship up there wants you to stay. You are a part of our team, our family.” He paused, “You are a part of me and I don’t think I can live without you.”

The tears came hot and quick now, dripping down his shoulder plate where they fell from your eyes.

“Hunter, I….”

The ground began to quake and rumble once more. Rocks shook with a violence and roared as if the splitting ground caused them great pain. And for the second time that day, you found yourself falling.

--------------------------------------------------

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[pinkrangermemes]

EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

[pin-k-ink]

limerence // akutagawa ryuunosuke

tw ⇢ mentions of violence and injuries, mentions of abuse, sexual tension, highly suggestive content, slightly possessive aku, akutagawa has a wild imagination

wc ⇢ 9.7k

a/n: i just liked the idea of someone being there for aku when he was being mistreated by dazai. it just spiraled out of control

Akutagawa had always sensed something indescribable drawing him to you - an invisible thread tying your two existences together in a way he couldn't put words to. Ever since joining the Port Mafia under Dazai's brutal tutelage, there had been this inexplicable feeling that you were meant to be a fixed point in his life's orbit.

It wasn't that he felt the incessant urge to hurt you, like he did with so many others he deemed inferior or disposable. No, the rasping voice in his head that incessantly whispered for destruction and chaos went utterly silent whenever you were around. If anything, your presence seemed to dull the storm of his violent impulses to a steady patter.

He admired the way you carried yourself - the fearless determination shining through your eyes, the ruthless efficiency with which you dispatched any who crossed your path. You pulled your own weight without question or complaint, swiftly earning respect and a solid position amongst the mafia ranks in a remarkably short time.

In many ways, you reminded him of himself - two feral strays plucked off the streets by the maddeningly enigmatic Dazai and molded into his own personal weapons. Perhaps that was where this strange kinship stemmed from initially. He saw reflections of his own brokenness, his own will to survive and stake a claim in this unforgiving world, gazing back at him through your steely gaze.

The first time Dazai had introduced you two, Akutagawa immediately noticed the way your eyes seemed to flicker with something like...recognition? A fleeting spark of light danced through those dead irises whenever you glanced his way. In that moment, he knew you had been through unspeakable hells, just as he had. The kinship was immediate, if unacknowledged.

"This is your new...partner, of sorts," Dazai had said with one of his signature inscrutable smiles. "I expect you two to look out for each other from this point on."

You had simply given a curt nod, not speaking a word. Akutagawa remembered being struck by your silence, the way it seemed to have great weight and volume despite the lack of sound.

That was how it remained between you two for the longest time - an unspoken bond of understanding threaded through the quiet moments you existed side-by-side. Like the time Dazai had disciplined Akutagawa a little too severely, leaving him a crumpled, bleeding mess on the warehouse floor.

"Just kill me," Akutagawa had rasped through gritted teeth, despair crashing over him in waves at the thought that he wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough to be of use. If he couldn't be of use, he had no purpose.

That's when he felt the feather-light caress of fingers grazing over his mottled skin. His head had snapped up, eyes wild, as Rashomon burst forth with a violent screech to attack the perceived threat. But there was no scream, no cry of pain or fear - only the soft patter of blood droplets hitting the concrete as Rashomon's jaws clamped down on your shoulder.

You showed no pain, only that same weighted silence and expectant look that somehow conveyed you trusted Akutagawa to call off his attack. He found himself dismissing Rashomon without a second thought.

From that day on, a new unspoken ritual formed between you two. Whenever Akutagawa was left beaten and broken by Dazai's savage lessons, you would appear like a wraith. Not a word would be exchanged as you gathered his battered body with surprising gentleness and began cleaning and binding his wounds with a steady, practiced hand.

An entire year slipped by in that manner - two damaged, jagged souls orbiting each other in a companionable silence. Until one day, you finally spoke.

"Why do you let him do this to you?" Your voice was little more than a hoarse rasp, as though long unused to forming words.

Akutagawa's eyes had gone wide at the unexpected sound. "He...He's making me stronger," was his automatic reply.

You shook your head, mouth setting into a grim line. "No. He's breaking you."

Those four words hung thick in the air as you resumed cleaning the fresh wound on his cheek with surprising tenderness. Akutagawa wanted to angrily refute your allegation, but something in the depths of your gaze stopped him. He searched your expression, took in the tightness around your eyes and the hardened set of your jaw, and realized you weren't just speaking in hypotheticals.

"What do you mean?" he found himself asking, a slight furrow creasing his brow.

You paused, seeming to carefully weigh your next words. When you spoke again, it was low and measured. "Dazai...he takes pleasure in breaking people. Molding them into what he wants, no matter how much it shatters them in the process."

Your hands stilled, falling away from his cheek as your gaze grew distant, as if you were seeing something far away that only you could perceive. "I've seen it before, in others he claimed to 'mentor'. The light slowly extinguishing from their eyes as he systematically stripped them of anything that gave them strength beyond his control."

A muscle ticked in your jaw and your hands clenched into white-knuckled fists against your thighs. "I won't let that happen to me. To us." Your eyes snapped back to his with an intensity that pierced straight through to Akutagawa's very core. "We can't let him break us, Akutagawa. We have to stay strong, for ourselves."

He could only nod mutely, trying his best to absorb the weight behind your impassioned words. For the first time, he was seeing the full scope of the simmering rage and defiance you clearly harbored towards their mentor. A rage he realized, with some surprise, he might share more kinship with than he previously thought.

The silence stretched onward as you took up the first aid supplies once more, resuming your ministrations with a little more force behind the movements. Akutagawa could feel the heat of your body from where you knelt in front of him, smell the faint tang of your skin and the metallic hint of his own drying blood. It should have felt suffocating, but instead there was an odd sense of comfort in your presence surrounding him.

Finally, you seemed to reach some internal decision and spoke again without looking up. "From now on, you come to me if he...if that happens again." It wasn't a question, but a quiet, steely command. "Don't let him take any more of you than he already has."

Akutagawa gave another muted nod, unable to give voice to the jumbled emotions currently ricocheting through him. He knew in that moment that something had irrevocably shifted between you two - a new gravitational force lashing you both securely in each other's orbit, an unbreakable chain reforged in defiance of the man who brought you together only to try and rip you apart.

As you dressed the last of his wounds and made to pull away, he caught your wrist in a grip just shy of bruisingly tight without conscious thought. You froze, eyes flicking up to search his face with that piercing, unblinking stare. Akutagawa opened his mouth, but no words would come. He simply held your gaze, trying to convey the gratitude, the bone-deep relief at knowing he didn't have to be alone in this hell anymore.

You seemed to understand regardless. You simply gave a solemn nod and covered his hand with your free one, giving it a tight squeeze. Akutagawa felt something unknot in his chest at the contact. It was as if you had extended him the thinnest fragile lifeline, a tendril of connection keeping him bound to the side of light and humanity he so feared losing sight of entirely.

From that day forward, your unspoken ritual took on a new dimension of fierce protectiveness and silent strength being drawn from each other's resolve. Akutagawa continued weathering Dazai's cruel tempests, but now he had your steadfast presence to keep him moored, to keep him from shattering apart entirely.

And in turn, he vowed to be that same anchor for you...

The weeks passed in a steady cycle of brutality and quiet reprieves. Dazai's cruel lessons grew harsher, his bemused smiles taking on a sharper, more mocking edge as he pushed Akutagawa to his limits over and over again. But each time, without fail, you would appear like an avenging spirit - silent fury simmering in your eyes as you gathered Akutagawa's broken body and began the ritual of putting him back together.

Your touches during those stolen moments started to linger a beat longer than perhaps was necessary. Fingertips would ghost over the newly formed scars and mottled bruises with a tenderness that made something warm unfurl in the pit of Akutagawa's stomach. He found himself craving those light caresses, irritated when you pulled away too soon.

You seemed to sense the shift as well. He would catch you staring sometimes, head tilted ever so slightly as you observed him through narrowed eyes. As if you were studying him, cataloging every wince and sharp indrawn breath for deeper analysis. The weight of your regard made the hair on the back of his neck prickle, though not in an unpleasant way.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the walls between you began eroding away. What started as terse one-word answers when you asked him gruffly how he was faring blossomed into full, albeit stilted sentences. Your brows would knit together whenever Akutagawa recounted in clipped tones the new creatively sadistic punishments Dazai had devised, your jaw tensing until he could see the muscles flexing beneath the skin.

"He can't keep doing this," you bit out one night, hands stilling where they gently probed the fresh fracture in Akutagawa's arm. "We're not his dolls to torture for his amusement."

Akutagawa could only grunt an affirmative, reflexively biting back a pained hiss as you cautiously finished binding the limb. He didn't dare voice his most deeply buried fear - that Dazai wouldn't stop until he had thoroughly and irreparably broken him to align perfectly with his own twisted vision.

As if sensing his dark thoughts, you shifted until you were kneeling directly in front of him, invading his personal space in a way that should have felt suffocating but didn't. You reached out with one hand to firmly grasp his chin, forcing him to meet the searing intensity of your gaze head-on.

"Don't let him take you from yourself, Akutagawa," you said, low and serious. "No matter what happens, you have to hold on to who you are at your core. I'll be here to remind you, if you start losing your way."

Akutagawa's breath hitched at the unexpected vow, at the protectiveness burning in your eyes mere inches from his own. He could feel the warmth of your closeness soaking into his chilled skin, smell the faint hints of soap and steel that seemed to cling to you always. It was utterly intoxicating in a way he didn't want to examine too closely.

"I won't let you lose yourself either," he heard himself promising in return, voice coming out lower and rougher than intended.

Something flickered through your gaze at his words, there and gone too quickly for him to identify. But you held his stare for a beat longer before giving a solemn nod and releasing his chin. Already, Akutagawa felt the loss of your proximity like a yawning chasm opening up in his core.

From that day forward, you both moved as cohesive units - flowing around each other in the training rooms with the kind of seamless synchronicity generally reserved for lovers. You would spar with him for hours, pushing him to operate at his peak physical and mental state, showing no quarter even when his body screamed for respite. Because you understood that the stronger he became, the less Dazai could use his punishments as justification for his depravity.

In turn, Akutagawa could feel himself focusing with terrifying intensity whenever you sparred with Dazai. He would watch every shift of muscle, every bead of sweat that formed at your brow, looking for the slightest tell that you were nearing your limits. If Dazai ever went too far, took his games to the point of potentially crippling you, Akutagawa knew he wouldn't hesitate to unleash his fury in retaliation.

You were his tether, his lodestar in this increasingly dark and disorienting world Dazai was crafting around you both. He didn't think he could withstand having that grounding presence ripped away.

It was that realization, after a particularly vicious sparring session that left you both bruised and panting for air, that Akutagawa felt the first delicate tendril of something deeper unfurling in his chest. As you reached up to wipe away the thin trail of blood from the corner of your split lip, he found himself paralyzed - utterly transfixed watching the way your tongue instinctively darted out to wet your chapped lips.

A sudden, visceral need slammed into him then - the urge to lean in and chase that flash of pink with his own mouth, to taste the sharp tang of copper and the softness of your lips all at once. The thought had his throat going dry and heat lancing through him so suddenly it was disorienting.

You must have noticed something shift in his expression, because your brow furrowed quizzically as you dropped your hand. "Akutagawa? You okay?"

He could only give a tight nod, reeling from the intensity of whatever this new feeling was taking root in his battered psyche. By everything he had been taught, he should reject it immediately - these unbidden wants and needs were simply weaknesses to be exploited, flaws in his design that required purging.

And yet... he couldn't seem to make himself extinguish the tiny ember burning in his soul. Not when it made him feel more human, more alive, than anything had in longer than he could remember.

So instead of snuffing it out, he chose to protectively cup the flame with his hands and let it slowly blaze brighter and hotter until he could no longer ignore the truth shining forth.

He was falling for you - slowly, insidiously, like a man being pulled into a riptide's powerful underwing before he even realized the waters around him had shifted. But now there would be no stemming the tide.

Akutagawa felt himself being swept away by this new force, and he was powerless to stop it. Worse...he didn't want to.

several years later

The Port Mafia headquarters was quieter these days without Dazai's presence casting that ever-looming shadow. He had defected years ago in a dramatic storm of chaos and bloodshed, abandoning his prized students to fend for themselves in the aftermath.

For Akutagawa, it was a perverse sort of liberation.

The cruel mentor who had taken such sadistic delight in systematically tearing him down was gone - leaving him unshackled from that dark paradigm. No longer did he have to temper his every action, endure harsh punishments for perceived failures or signs of wavering loyalty. He was finally free to embrace his true self, uninhibited.

And perhaps most importantly, he no longer had to share you.

From the moment Dazai slipped through their grasp that fateful night, it was as if a remaining tether binding you to the Port Mafia had been abruptly severed. You seemed to come alive in a way Akutagawa had never witnessed before - like a wild animal who had finally been released from its cage.

The quiet intensity that he had found so intriguing all those years before bloomed into an aura of unbridled confidence and power. You moved with the self-assuredness of a natural apex predator, never bothering to cover the blatant disdain that flashed in your eyes when having to take orders. Everyone could see it - you never intended to be bound or controlled again.

It set Akutagawa's blood thrumming hot through his veins just watching the transformation. This was the woman he had fallen for slowly allowing her truest nature to unfurl. He drank in every nuance, every subtle shift, like a man who had been trapped in a desert finally allowed to experience the intoxicating force of a ravenous storm.

There was a feral sort of grace to the way you moved now, each sinewy muscle coiled like a panther's before it strikes. He noticed the details with an almost obsessive focus - like how your hair seemed permanently tousled from constantly raking your hands through it, or the tiny bead of sweat that would form on your collarbone whenever you exerted yourself. Little things that somehow entranced him in a bone-deep way.

Not that he would ever let on just how utterly arrayed he found himself in your presence these days. The lingering awkwardness and uncertainty over how to define the bond between you persisted - an unspoken hesitance to outright acknowledge or give voice to the molten tensions thrumming through every weighted glance and casual touch.

Still, the gravitational pull between you had only grown more irresistible the older you both became. Ever since that first spark of undeniable want had awoken in Akutagawa's soul all those years ago, he found himself unable to fully suppress the yearning anymore. It would blaze hotly to life at the most inopportune moments, sparked by the smallest and most innocuous things you did.

Like the way you would absently chew on your pen cap whenever you were deep in thought, staining those plump lips a deep crimson from the pressure. Or how you would shrug out of your signature leather jacket in a series of languid movements after a long day, briefly exposing the flexing muscles of your arms and back.

Mundane moments that somehow became searing, impossible for Akutagawa to tear his eyes away from even if the world had depended on it. You didn't seem to notice or care that his gaze had taken on a scorching new intensity, holding his stare and quirking an amused brow as if challenging him to keep watching.

Which of course, he did, feeling arousal and frustration swirling through his gut in an intoxicating, dizzying mix. Self-restraint was a constant battle when you were around, every fiber of his being straining to touch, to taste, to finally allowed himself to succumb to the relentless maelstrom of need you awoke in him.

The simmering tension had grown nearly unbearable in recent months, finally culminating in an impasse one humid summer night...

The summer night was thick and sultry, the air heavy with humidity that seemed to cling to exposed skin like a damp veil. Akutagawa could feel perspiration beading along his hairline as he made his way through the Port Mafia's dimly lit corridors towards your quarters.

There had been a mission earlier that evening - a relatively straightforward information retrieval, but one that had still required your collective skills. As always, you operated with the same brutal finesse that he had come to admire and crave witnessing with an almost physical ache.

Now, with the adrenaline had ebbing from his veins, Akutagawa found his thoughts turning inevitably back towards you. His steps carried him in your direction without conscious thought, body seeming to operate on autopilot as if drawn in by its own powerful gravity well.

He told himself it was simply to go over the mission debrief one final time before submitting the report. But a deeper part of him knew that was merely the flimsy excuse his fevered mind clung to for justification. The truth was, he merely ached to be in your presence again, consequences be damned.

When he reached your door, he raised his hand to knock out of ingrained habit and propriety. But he hesitated at the last moment, fingers hovering just millimeters from the weathered wood. From the other side, he could hear the faint sounds of movement - no doubt you were already back, unwinding with whatever nightly routine you indulged in.

The thought of catching you in those unguarded private moments had shameful heat licking up the back of Akutagawa's neck. He shouldn't be here, not without announcement or purpose. This went beyond the lingering tension constantly sparking between you two. This was treading into territory that, if finally acknowledged, could irrevocably alter the delicate threads holding your bond together.

Just as he started to draw his hand back, there was a soft thump from inside followed by a muffled curse slipping through the door's thin barrier like silk. Akutagawa's breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized your voice - low and gravelly in a way that sparked firebrands of pure want lancing straight through to his core.

There was the soft whisper of fabric shifting, falling away - no doubt you were starting to undress for the evening. Akutagawa knew he should leave, right that second before he somehow forged across a line that could never be uncrossed.

But his feet seemed leaden, rooted to the spot as those mundane sounds of your nightly routine echoed to him louder than thunderclaps. His imagination eagerly painted the visuals for him - the slow, sensuous shedding of clothing and gear until you were finally bared before his mind's eye. The urge to see that imagining made reality twisted his insides with searing intensity.

Another soft thump came from inside - the weighty clunk of boots being kicked off perhaps? Then the creak of what had to be the bed frame shifting under your weight as you settled onto it.

Akutagawa was rapidly losing what little remained of his quickly fraying restraint and composure. Heat blazed through his veins at just the mere thought of you laid out in repose mere feet away, potentially as exposed and vulnerable as he had ever seen you. A merciless tide of need crashed through him, leaving a raging tempest of lust burning in its wake.

He had to get out of here before he did something rash, something idiotic and reckless that could shatter the fragile rapture between you two. Steeling himself, he wrenched his gaze from the door and turned on his heel to flee.

That's when the distinct sound of your breathy moan ghosted through the thin barrier, freezing Akutagawa in his tracks as if he'd been struck by lightning.

It was a barely-there whisper of sound, carried on the heavy air. But there was no mistaking the raw vein of pleasure and need that single exhalation conveyed. Akutagawa's pulse kicked up several notches as his mind instantly rebelled against him, conjuring up images he suddenly couldn't seem to banish no matter how hard he tried.

You, sprawled out naked and wanton on your bed mere feet away. One of your hands stroking teasingly over the soft curves and planes of newly exposed flesh as the other drifted lower to caress at the juncture between your thighs...

A strangled groan very nearly tore itself free from Akutagawa's throat as his arousal spiked so violently it nearly whited out his vision. He could feel his cock rapidly swelling, growing painfully hard beneath the constraint of his clothing.

Another breathy keen reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable rhythmic creak of bedsprings shifting under a rocking motion. Akutagawa's mouth went dry as cotton as he pieced together what had to be happening just on the other side of that door.

You were touching yourself. Right there, so very close by, putting on an unwitting performance just for him as your gasps and muffled mewls of pleasure carried through to tease his senses into a fever pitch.

His feet seemed to move of their own volition, carrying him those last few steps until he was pressed up against the door - drawn in like a moth to a flame despite his mind screaming at him to turn back. He leaned his weight into the solid wood, hands splaying out as if to brace himself against the torrent of need crashing through his body.

From here, he could hear every punched-out breath, every tiny whimper as you pleasured yourself just on the other side. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching until he tasted blood as he tried in vain to block out the mental images...

You, back arched in ecstasy off the bed as your hand worked between your legs with increasing urgency. Soft panted cries spilling shamelessly from your lips as you chased that blissful peak, completely oblivious to your unintended audience straining to maintain his unraveling composure.

Coherent thought was rapidly becoming an impossibility as Akutagawa was swiftly overwhelmed by the full force of his need for you. His hips jerked helplessly, rutting against the solid plane of the door as another strangled whine filled the air. He couldn't tell if it came from you or was torn from his own throat.

Everything felt scorching hot, heavy with the unmistakable musk of arousal. He was drowning in it, going under the roiling tsunami of pure lust with no chance of salvation. Only one thought seemed to cut through the fevered haze - the all-consuming urge to claim you as his own finally made manifest.

He found himself shakily gripping the door handle, every muscle in his body tensed and thrumming with electric anticipation. One twist of his wrist was all it would take to throw the door open and end this aching torment in a single blazing collision of want and need finally being indulged.

His hand trembled there, hovering over that last razor's edge keeping you both separated. Just one push, one burning leap across that yawning chasm, and everything between you would be shattered and remade into something primal and new...

Akutagawa's hand remained frozen on the door handle, suspended in that breathless moment of indecision. Every nerve ending in his body seemed to be firing on overdrive, screaming at him to throw caution aside and finally satisfy this relentless, smoldering want that had been steadily consuming him.

Just one push was all it would take to irrevocably shatter the fragile tension thrumming between you - to finally act on the undeniable, molten undercurrent of desire that had been simmering for far too long. He could already vividly envision the scene that would instantly unfurl:

The door crashing open, disrupting your intimate moment. Your eyes going wide with shock and vulnerability before quickly narrowing with a mixture of challenge and dark promise as you registered his presence. No words would be exchanged, only a heated collision of bared souls laid out for stark honesty at last.

Akutagawa's restraint had started to fray into gauzy threads barely tethering his control in place. He could feel the muscles in his arm tensing, straining against the decision to finally make that fateful move and breach all remaining barriers. Just one indrawn breath, one purposeful twist of his wrist, and there would be no going back...

Then, a harsh sound like tearing fabric rent through the charged air - the distinct noise of something being knocked over in the room beyond. It was abruptly followed by a guttural groan that most certainly did not sound born of pleasure this time.

Akutagawa felt the fever-pitch tension within him dissipating like a doused flame as reality reasserted itself. You weren't...you had been engaged in something entirely different based on those sounds, something likely related to treating an injury or other discomfort judging by the tone.

Shame and embarrassment came crashing down on him in equal measure, his arousal quickly wilting under the sobering realization of just how indecently his mind had run away with him over mere assumptions. He ripped his hand away from the door handle as if it had become searing hot, stumbling back a few paces with harsh, shuddering breaths.

What in the hell had he been about to do? Violate your privacy, your trust, all because he couldn't master his own base impulses and urges? The thought made him feel vaguely nauseous, disgusted with himself for allowing his wants to supersede all rationality and decorum.

Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, Akutagawa turned and hurried away from your door - desperate to put as much distance between him and the source of this unsettling incident as possible. He needed space to regain his composure, to lock away the raging tempest of desire that seemed determined to pull him under every time you came within a certain radius.

As he fled into the night, one horrible truth continued gnawing at his consciousness like an ineradicable parasite:

This deepening obsession, this spiral into depravity...it had to be brought to heel immediately before he did something even worse than merely entertain indecent thoughts and assumptions. If he couldn't regain control over his weakness soon, he risked utterly shattering the precious bond you two had been sustaining against all odds.

And that outcome was quite simply...unacceptable.

No matter how intense this fire raged within him, he could not - would not - lose sight of what truly mattered. Even if it ultimately consumed him from the inside out, he vowed he would find the strength to keep you from getting burned as well.

He had to... for both of your sakes.

The weeks following that charged encounter outside your door were a spiraling descent into barely-restrained torment for Akutagawa. No matter how vigorously he attempted to regain control over his wayward thoughts and urges, they always managed to blaze wilfully back to life the second you entered his vicinity.

Your mere presence seemed to act like a match singeing the tinder of his deepest desires these days. The slightest motion or murmur from you was enough to rekindle the raging want simmering beneath Akutagawa's rigorously enforced surface composure. He found his eyes hungrily tracing the curves of your body whenever you moved, his gaze lingering perhaps a fraction too long whenever you bent or stretched.

It was becoming progressively harder to play off his distraction or attribute the heightened heat in his stare to anything other than naked longing. You began shooting him quizzical looks whenever you'd catch him openly drinking in the sight of you. A slight furrow would crease your brow, lips parting ever-so-slightly as if on the precipice of giving voice to a probing question.

But Akutagawa would simply look away, jaw clenched until he was sure he had mastered himself enough to meet your searching gaze without betraying the inferno of hunger consuming him from the inside out. He took to avoiding extended periods of being alone with you, worried that even his formidable restraint might inevitably shatter if left too long subjected to the temptation of your presence.

This maddening dance could not be sustained indefinitely though, and you both knew it. The tension showed no signs of dissipating, only furthering ratcheting tighter and tighter like a steadily tightening vice grip. Until finally, something gave way with an Earth-shattering jolt.

It happened during a routine sparring session, one of the relatively rare instances where Akutagawa could no longer excuse avoiding you with other matters. You moved together in that deadly, hypnotic tango of give-and-take, strike-and-counter, that had become as natural as breathing long ago.

But this time, every collision of bodies, every heated exchange seemed to be supercharged by the thick undercurrents roiling just beneath. Akutagawa bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper in an effort to maintain focus, but his gaze kept flickering to the sheen of sweat glistening along the exposed column of your throat.

He wanted nothing more than to chase the path of those dewy beads trailing downward with his tongue, to drink in the taste of your overheated skin and subtle musk of exertion. The muscle memory of your bodies moving in tandem took on an insidious new tenor as baser wants began bleeding into every brush of contact.

Then it happened -- some minute misstep or fleeting lapse of concentration leaving just enough of an opening. Akutagawa felt his world pivot and suddenly he found himself pinned underneath you, torsos pressed flush and legs tangled as you straddled his hips. The position seemed to rob all remaining oxygen from the room as your heated proximity overwhelmed his senses.

You were so close, he could trace the patterns of your pulse hammering away just beneath the thin sheen of sweat along your neck. Could feel the warmth of your rapid breaths ghosting across his face as you both froze in the sudden shocked stillness. Your eyes had gone wide, lips parted around a ragged inhalation as your gazes crashed together with unavoidable intensity.

For a suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to halt its spinning as that same molten question hung unvoiced between you: What now?

The unstoppable force had finally met the immovable object in this loaded tangle of limbs and Want. Every nerve in Akutagawa's body was straining, crying out to finally seize this precipice and resolve the unbearable tension thrumming like a livewire between you once and for all.

All it would take was simply leaning up those last few instants to seal his mouth over yours in a searing confession. To finally put voice to the screaming desperation that had been slowly tearing him apart from the inside for far too long. This was the breaking point, he could feel it reverberating through his very marrow....

But just as Akutagawa felt his resolve starting to splinter and disintegrate, you seemed to reach some internal decision. Your expression transmuted in an instant - eyes hardening into that achingly familiar look of determination and focus he knew so well as you forcibly mastered control over yourself.

In a single, sinuous movement you had disentangled and rolled off of him, leaving Akutagawa reeling and bereft in the empty space where your body's welcomed weight had been mere moments before. You stood and brushed off your clothes, not quite able to meet his eyes as you muttered something about calling an end to sparring for today.

Then you turned on your heel and left without another word, every line of your body radiating a tension so tightly strung it seemed one errant motion might cause the whole thing to unravel entirely.

Akutagawa could only remain sprawled there for several dazed moments, staring sightlessly at the point where you'd disappeared as the flames of his craving slowly banked back into smoldering embers. Another miss timed breath away from detonation, narrowly skirted at the last possible instant.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep weathering these bone-rattling reprieves, these fragmenting shards of control they both appeared to be clinging to by a single diminishing thread. The hungers clearly would not be starved or denied forever. At this accelerating pace, the dam seemed fated to burst sooner rather than later.

When it finally did...Akutagawa could scarcely begin to fathom just how cataclysmic the torrent would prove to be.

In the days and weeks following that fateful sparring session, the air seemed to thicken with a heavy, charged tension unlike anything Akutagawa had experienced before. No matter where he went or what tasks occupied his time, he could feel the weight of it surrounding him - an omnipresent force drawing his thoughts inexorably back towards you.

You, for your part, seemed to be maintaining a studied distance and aloofness that did little to soothe Akutagawa's furiously burning need. If anything, your avoidance and sudden emotional remove only stoked the smoldering embers into an inferno of sorts. He found himself actively seeking you out, hungry for even the smallest interaction or exchange like a man being teased with mere droplets of relief after wandering the desert.

Lingering looks, brushes of contact that lasted perhaps a second too long, the barest hint of your unique scent carrying on the air - any tiny crumb of your presence was instantly snatched up and hungrily devoured. Akutagawa realized with some dim sort of dawning horror that he was rapidly losing whatever remained of his tattered restraint and control where you were concerned.

This singular, all-consuming obsession was quickly metastasizing into the sole driving force propelling him through each day. Trivial matters like eating, sleeping, carrying out orders - all of it became stunningly inconsequential when compared to simply laying eyes on you or catching the barest hint of your presence nearby. An ache, both physical and psychological, seemed to take root - throbbing incessantly until it grew into the only constant in Akutagawa's world.

He knew, logically, that this degree of unhealthy fixation could not be allowed to persist. It represented an unforgivable weakness, a crack in his steadily reinforced emotional armor that could easily be exploited by anyone wise enough to notice. The fact that you appeared to be the sole vector causing this crumbling deterioration only seemed to make the vice squeezing his heart clench tighter.

Because despite how erratic and unbalancing this maelstrom of want raging through him had become, some deeply buried part of Akutagawa was terrified of what it might mean to actually sate this howling need - or worse, to have it rejected entirely. To finally act on the wildfire convulsing through his veins only to be met with revulsion or disgust from the one person whose regard he found himself violently craving above all others.

So he attempted to regain control through stubborn avoidance and sheer force of will, doubling down on the emotional barriers he'd erected over years of conditioning his mind and body to remain indifferent to such human vulnerabilities. If he could not extinguish this undignified hunger, he would take rein in with an iron fist until it withered away into irrelevance once more.

Except...every attempt at willful suppression only led to eventual eruptions of need that left him shaken and weakened in their wake. Like an ailing dam failing to contain the relentless torrent surging against its crumbling barriers.

It all finally came to a head one sultry summer evening, when Akutagawa's usual practiced avoidance faltered at the worst possible moment. He had ducked into the Port Mafia's training rooms, desperate to lose himself in the rote physicality of conditioning exercises. Anything to force his mind into blissful emptiness and respite from YOUR inescapable presence ricocheting through his psyche.

Except when he rounded the corner into the large open area, you were already there - standing in a loose ready stance before one of the heavy punching bags, your back turned towards the entrance. Akutagawa's steps faltered instantly as his gaze hungrily drank in the flex and glide of sinewy muscles visible beneath your sweat-sheened tank top.

He watched, utterly transfixed, as you twisted your hips and launched into a devastating combination - your entire body a lithe, coiled force temporarily given form before exploding into controlled violence. The punching bag rattled dangerously in its chain with each bone-jarring impact, but you never broke rhythm.

A thin sheen of sweat rapidly emerged along your skin, your breath coming in sharp exhalations that Akutagawa could hear even from his position frozen in the entryway. Heat blazed to life low in his belly as he shamelessly allowed his hungry stare to roam over every inch of you - taking in the way your wild hair stuck to the back of your neck, the graceful arch of your spine as you twisted and struck in an endless loop of sinuous, predatory movements.

Akutagawa felt his mouth go dry as a fresh bead of sweat trailed down the side of your neck, disappearing tantalizingly beneath the collar of your top. He felt an overwhelming urge to stride across the room, crowd up behind you and chase that errant droplet's path with his tongue. To finally indulge in tasting the saltiness of your overheated skin and feel your rapid pulse fluttering against his lips.

His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides as he fought against the compulsion to close the distance between you. From this angle, he could make out the flexing ropes of muscle in your arms and shoulders with each punishing strike thrown - palpable strength harnessed in a form that sang to something primal low in his core.

Rational thought was rapidly becoming an impossibility as Akutagawa surrendered to the singular focus of simply...watching you. Drinking in every minute detail and storing it away to savor like a lifeline anchoring his sanity against the raging tempest. The way your chest heaved with each rasping inhalation, the tiny furrow of concentration between your brows, the sheer coiled power lying in wait beneath your sweat-slicked skin just begging to be unleashed.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, rooted to that spot and utterly entranced. But suddenly you were twisting around, shooting him a look over your shoulder that had all the air forcibly expelling from Akutagawa's lungs in a harsh exhale. Your eyes had gone molten and heavy-lidded, lips parted enticingly as you wordlessly held his sidelong stare.

It was a challenge as much as it was an unspoken question - that same weighted tension crackling through the space between you like profane static. Akutagawa forgot how to breathe, mesmerized under the heat of your regard and the sudden realization that you were fully aware of the effect you were having on him.

And worse...you didn't seem to mind it in the slightest.

In that suspended moment, every nerve ending in Akutagawa's body felt electrified and over-sensitized - like the smallest shift in the world around him might make the taut line he'd been walking towards oblivion suddenly fray and snap entirely. He couldn't tear his eyes away from yours, utterly paralyzed yet still straining towards you with every fiber of his being.

It was too much and not nearly enough all at once. The Pandora's box of want laid out in searing clarity between you, mere inches from finally being torn open once and for all. He could see the rapid flutter of your pulse beating just beneath the hollow of your throat, smell the musky ozone of your exertion surrounding him like a physical force.

Then, just as Akutagawa felt his restraint beginning to slip entirely, you broke the loaded tableau with a sharp indrawn breath. Your gaze drifted away from his as you reached up to swipe away the sheen of sweat from your brow. When you looked back, your expression had shifted back towards its usual cool inscrutability.

"I need to clean up," you murmured, turning away to gather your things without a backwards glance. "Don't wear yourself out too much."

The tension shattered like a broken spell as you brushed past Akutagawa without another word, leaving him to experience the metaphorical whiplash of having the coiled vice around his heart both tighten and loosen in the same staggering instant. He could only stand there, chest heaving as if he'd just run for miles, trying to process what had just occurred.

This...this could not continue in such a maddening vortex. Not if he wanted to maintain even a semblance of his battered sanity and self-restraint. One way or another, something was going to have to finally give way before the precarious threads holding this fragile rapture between you both frayed beyond repair.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could withstand feeling like a man being tortured within an inch of his life, only to be callously yanked back from the sweet release of oblivion at the last possible instant. The hungers already threatened to reduce him into something primal and uncontrolled - a danger to you as much as himself.

As your lingering scent slowly dissipated around him, Akutagawa came to a decision. This cyclical game could not be permitted to persist unchecked any longer. He would take matters into his own hands, one way or another, and seek a resolution...

...before one of them wound up getting irreparably burned by the inferno raging ever hotter between you.

The following days found Akutagawa increasingly consumed by his singleminded determination to force a confrontation - to finally shatter the fragile stalemate you had both been treading and either purge these relentless hungers entirely or have them violently sated once and for all.

He pushed himself to utter distraction during training sessions and missions, operating at a ferocious new peak of intensity. As if by purging every ounce of his formidable darkness onto his surroundings, he could temporarily slake the insatiable thirst driving him ever nearer to the edge of control when it came to you.

But it was a temporary balm at best. Because the second you materialized anywhere in his vicinity, it was like all the air was sucked from the room in a searing vacuum. Akutagawa's entire universe seemed to grind down to that singular point of gravity he couldn't tear himself away from no matter how he willed it.

The scorching path of your movements, every subtle shift of muscle and flutter of pulse - he catalogued it all with the razor focus of a starving man who has caught the barest whiff of sustenance. His body practically hummed with unrealized tension, thrumming like a livewire about to arc violently in any direction it was provoked.

You had to feel the molten weight of his stare flickering over you at all times now, yet you carried on with maddening nonchalance. As if you were blissfully unaware of the roiling tsunami of need crashing against Akutagawa's weakening restraints every time you were near.

The facade of indifference you projected cut him deeper than any blade. He saw it for what it truly was - a final test, a gauntlet thrown down challenging him to be the one to shatter propriety and give voice to the pleas hammering for freedom inside his ribcage.

The desperation burned hotter and brighter until Akutagawa could scarcely see anything else beyond the bonfire of his obsession. It took every ounce of white-knuckled composure not to simply slam you up against the nearest surface and put his mouth on yours in a searing brand of possession.

This dance was going to reach its feverish climax soon whether either of you willed it or not. The wanting, the ravenous ache roaring through his veins, had grown into an insatiable force of nature unto itself. And Akutagawa could feel his weakening grip on the reins as it slowly started to drag him under those turbulent waters entirely.

Which is why he finally took the drastic step of luring you into his space under the barest veneer of decorum, scarcely clinging to one last strand of protocol. He requested your presence under the guise of needing to discuss an upcoming assignment, using the thinnest thread of plausible deniability as his cover.

When you arrived with that inscrutable look etched across your features, he could feel the thunderous pounding of his pulse spike in anticipation. This would be it - the final line drawn, demanding you both confront what had been simmering between you for far too long.

Akutagawa wasted no time in pleasantries once you settled in across from him. He simply fixed you with a look of searing intensity, worrying his bottom lip as if wrestling with where to even begin addressing the massive rift that had cracked wide open in the space between them.

"We cannot continue on like this," he finally grated out, the muscle in his jaw ticking visibly with tension. "This...situation, between us. It's becoming untenable at best. Dangerous at worst."

You regarded him coolly from beneath hooded lids, betraying not a flicker of reaction beyond a slight tightening around your eyes. "Is that so?" came your measured reply.

Akutagawa nearly growled out loud at your apparent indifference despite the maelstrom raging within him. "You cannot tell me you haven't felt the escalating tension as well. That you haven't noticed..." He trailed off, pulse spiking as his throat suddenly went dry with the enormity of what he was about to give breath to.

You remained utterly inscrutable and maddeningly silent in the wake of his unfinished confession. The weight of that weighted pause seemed to swell around Akutagawa until he felt utterly unmoored, drifting without an anchor as everything finally came hurtling towards him.

"I'm drowning in wanting you," he rasped out in a harsh undertone, the words escaping like shrapnel tearing through the steel bands of propriety. "I can hardly look at you without feeling consumed by this scorching need clawing at me constantly."

There, he'd said it - given horrifying life to the admission that had been threatening to immolate him from the inside out. Now nothing could halt the flood of pent-up feeling once the gates had finally been opened.

"I'm haunted by thoughts of you no matter where I go or what I do. It's a relentless cycle of craving that has pushed me to the very brink of control. And I can no longer escape the suspicion that you've felt the same...yet you continually seem to dangle the prospect of reprieve before me, only to snatch it away at the last instant."

His hands were fisted tightly on the desktop, body taut as an overdrawn bowstring as he struggled to maintain whatever tattered shreds of composure remained. "So tell me, once and for all - am I deluding myself here? Or have you been stringing me along in this torment in silence? I need to know...before I well and truly snap beyond the point of no return."

The silence that fell between you then was utterly deafening, ringing through the space like Akutagawa had uttered something truly obscene rather than admitted to one of the most viscerally human conditions. He watched you, chest heaving, as you seemed to study him through narrowed eyes.

Then, almost infinitesimally slow and deliberate, the corners of your lips curved upwards into the barest semblance of a smirk.

The smirk playing across your lips sent a cascading shiver down Akutagawa's spine, though from trepidation or dark anticipation he couldn't be sure. You leaned back in your chair, regarding him with a heady look that made his pulse spike traitorously.

"Well, well..." you murmured, voice taking on a low, sultry timbre that immediately flooded Akutagawa's veins with molten heat. "Isn't this an...unexpected development."

You let the weighted pause linger for a beat, eyes roving over him in an almost palpable caress that had his throat turning to sandpaper. "Though I can't say I'm entirely surprised you've finally reached the breaking point, Akutagawa. A man can only deprive himself of what he craves for so long before the hunger becomes...insatiable."

The last word was practically purred, laden with undisguised promise that made his arousal surge almost painfully. You seemed to revel in his poorly contained reaction, gaze darkening with an intensity he'd never seen from you before as the true depth of your feelings was laid bare.

"Did you think I was oblivious to the smoldering looks? The physical restraint simmering just beneath that implacable exterior every time we were in proximity?" You tsked softly, shaking your head in a subtly chiding manner. "I'm not so blind, nor as unaffected as I may have led you to believe."

Your gaze grew hooded, a spark of something wild and feral glinting through as you continued in a low purr. "There were times where I could practically feel the weight of your stare caressing over me like a physical touch. Do you have any idea how intoxicating that is? To be so ravenously desired by a man of your intensity, yet have that razor's edge of control preventing anything from being sated..."

Akutagawa swallowed hard, feeling like the air had been forcibly expelled from his lungs as the first slivers of satisfaction at having his torment finally acknowledged made themselves known. You weren't untouched by the torrential undercurrents, you had simply been the immovable object against which his overwhelming tide crashed repeatedly in vain.

Until now, it seemed. Now that he had finally shattered the flimsy dam of propriety through sheer desperation, allowing everything to spill forth in a cataclysmic rush of truth. That feral glint in your gaze only seemed to intensify as you clearly picked up on his sharp inhalation and visible reaction.

"So tell me," you practically purred, leaning forward over the desk in a sinuous movement that had Akutagawa's mouth going dry with want. "Now that the floodgates have opened and you've admitted to the all-consuming thirst you've been harboring for me...what comes next? What does a man like you do when the object of his devastatingly intense desire is no longer kept at arm's length by invisible barriers?"

The undisguised challenge - no, blatant invitation - laden in your words obliterated what little remained of Akutagawa's restraint in a blinding supernova. Before conscious thought could even reassert itself, he had risen from his seat in a blindingly swift movement, rounding the obstruction between you.

You regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes and a quirk of your lips as he advanced, apparently not at all put off by his sudden proximity or the scorching intensity radiating off him in waves. If anything, your expression only seemed to sharpen further with undisguised hunger at having provoked this uncaged reaction at last.

"Well?" You breathed out as Akutagawa suddenly cupped the back of your neck in one large palm, fingertips brushing over your thundering pulse point. "Are you going to take what you've been starving for? Or was this just the feverish ramblings of a man who can't back up his smoldering bravado when finally conf-"

The rest of your taunting words were abruptly swallowed by Akutagawa's searing kiss as he finally bridged the last scant distance in a crashing wave of possession and unleashed obsession...

Akutagawa's kiss was utterly overwhelming in its intensity - an explosive collision born of too much pent-up desperation and volcanic want finally being released. There was no coyness or tentative exploration, only an unrestrained claiming as months of smoldering obsession poured forth in a searing brand.

You immediately melted into his bruising embrace with a muffled sound of approval, seemingly savoring the unadulterated ferocity he brought to bear. Your fingers threaded roughly through his hair, blunt nails scoring lines of delicious friction against his scalp as you eagerly matched his fervid passion.

There was an undercurrent of wildness, of two predators finally giving in to their primal urges and indulging in the gloves-off battle for dominance they had both been silently spoiling for. Teeth nipped at swollen lips, throats arched wantonly to offer better access as roaming hands grew increasingly emboldened in their exploration.

Akutagawa couldn't get enough of the taste of you flooding across his senses - the unique notes of lust and power and sheer unapologetic hunger all combining into an intoxicating blend he knew he would forever be chasing. He swallowed down your breathy keens and growled imprecations like they were the very air allowing him to keep surviving this maddening cycle of want and need spiraling ever tighter.

Finally, your nails raked over a sensitive cluster of nerves at the nape of his neck, causing his hips to shamelessly grind forward in a blatant demand for more friction. You hummed deep approval against his lips at the undisguised proof of what you did to him, allowing one long leg to casually hook around his as you pulled his weight flush against you.

"Insatiable," you murmured thickly between heated kisses, "I could feel your lust burning me from across rooms, begging to be indulged."

Something low in Akutagawa's abdomen clenched violently at the unapologetic words tumbling from your thoroughly ravaged lips. He growled deep in his chest, teeth scraping over the racing pulse point at your neck in a pointed reminder of just how utterly feral and uncaged his want for you had become.

"Say it again," he rumbled in a low rasp, the demand unmistakable as his hand went to fist in your hair. He punctuated his words by subtly rocking his hardness against you, relishing your full-bodied shudder and skittering exhale.

You seemed to instinctively know what he was after - that final taunting acknowledgment that you recognized the rapturous extent of his depravity where you were concerned. Your dazed gaze locked onto his, eyes molten with banked challenge before your lips curved in a ghost of a smirk.

"So eager for me," you husked out before surging up to seal your mouth over his once more in a searing, needful dance. As if speaking the truth out loud could do nothing to slake your own flames from finally being stoked as well.

Akutagawa practically snarled with gratification, his final tattered restraints violently unwinding under the full validation of his ferocious appetite being recognized and matched by your own. He gathered you up in his arms without breaking the frantic give-and-take, spinning to hoist you up onto the desk and step between your splayed thighs without missing a beat.

The hard line of his cock was now flush, almost painfully insistent, against your heated pussy. You undulated against the unrelenting friction like a woman possessed, seeming to egg him on towards claiming the sating reprieve you had both been hurtling inevitably towards all along.

It was all a dizzying rush of sensation, of hands greedily mapping over overheated skin and hungry mouths devouring each other. Akutagawa could not recall the last time he'd ever experienced a release so overwhelmingly euphoric and bone-rattling as when he finally claimed the ultimate prize.

As he sank into your impossibly tight heat, surrounded by your scent and enveloped in your welcoming heat, Akutagawa knew that the world had fundamentally changed. It had been irreparably altered on the fundamental level where a man can no longer imagine a time before the object of his deepest wants and hungers was there, surrounding him, sating his every carnal need and more.

As your hips ground together and your fingernails dug into his biceps in a wordless plea for harder, deeper, faster, Akutagawa felt a new hunger awaken. One that would be all the more insatiable for having been denied the satisfaction of satiating it for so long.

One that would likely drive him to the brink of madness, and perhaps over the edge entirely, if ever given the chance to truly sate it.

And judging by the way your eyes were glittering with equal measures of awe and wanton desire as your gazes crashed together in the hazy glow, Akutagawa suspected that the sentiment was more than mutual.

After all...there was no denying the danger lurking within a man who could not escape the pull of the object of his deepest, darkest, most undeniably human desire.

[houpss]

Relationships with SKZ

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BANG CHAN+HWANG LILY (Chanly):

To begin with, she was deeply in love with him and Now she feels great affection for him, she literally cannot live without him for a second.

She literally fell in love with Chan because he was so kind to her while they were trainees.

Very cute and soft duet.

Lily helped Chan a lot with his self-esteem and self-acceptance, they did a great job together.

And Chan is always there when Lily has anxiety attacks or panic attacks, he's always there.

She is his regular guest in the Chan's room (more on that later)

Very popular pairing!!! (hyunlix, minsung and chanly almost three main ways )

She cried every time he said something bad to himself.

She takes him shopping, because Chan doesn’t really like this business.

The NOT funniest jokes that only they laugh at .

Mmm, she loves Chan's curls, plays with them every chance she gets.

bro...they're literally dating, don't you get it? THEY'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP

How did it happen?

Literally one phrase from Lily one cold and bad evening changed everything

Nicknames for the Chan (in phone):Channie wife 🌹

Nicknames for the Lily (in phone): Teddy Lily 🐻❤️

LEE KNOW+HWANG LILY (Limin):

Minho was extremely annoyed that Lily would be in a MAN group.

Constant joint training brought them closer, very close.

In front of the cameras, they tease each other and literally mock each other, but outside the cameras...

Outside of cameras and public life, they are together, they love each other

bro...they are like brother and sister. they love each other so much

Lily is very attracted to him

Dance duet. THEY DANCED THE TROUBLE MAKER (what Hyunjin and Minho danced)

Small acts of caring.

He holds her hand in public, this is the norm.

They watch anime or cook together (that's why they live in the same dorm)

So much sarcasm.

Lily mom sunidunidori.

A couple of volunteers and a couple of sincerity

Nicknames for Lee Know (in phone): cat lover 🐈‍⬛

Nicknames for Lily (in phone): annoying lady 👾

SEO CHANGBIN+HWANG LILY (Binli):

THEY BECAME FRIENDS RIGHT AFTER CHANGBIN JOINED JYP.

Lily can just walk up to him and start screaming and Changbin will scream back.

They eat together and always eat.

She makes fun of Changbin because of his height, and Changbin is indignant.

Changbin steals Lily's cookies.

the noisiest in the group and in the company.

Changbinie teaches Lily women's choreography.

Lily dies at the sight of his muscles.

"My little dwaekki is lives in the gym???"

They're just fun and noisy.

Sometimes they write song lyrics together.

Nicknames for Changbin (in phone):Changbin 🐽🐰

Nicknames for Lily (in phone):LILYYYY ❤️

HWANG HYUNJIN+HWANG LILY (Lyhyun):

We disliked each other a little before debut.

But this immediately passed when the survival show began.

So aesthetic and flirty together 🫦

Hyunjin has a collection of Lily's portraits.

She makes hairstyles out of his hair, but Lily's favorite hairstyle is TWO TAIL ON THE SIDE (I’m dying, girls)

Hyunjin doesn't like to be touched a lot, but she's allowed.

She protects him from all the hate 🥺🥺

So beautiful and their interactions are going viral on social media.

Lily often watches Hyunjin draw, it's just so cozy.

THEIR HANDS DIFFERENCE.. Hyunjin's arms are 20.5 cm, and Lily's are 16.5.

He kissed her once on the cheek at a concert (oh my god, how the fans love it)

"My world is your peace of mind, and I am your protection"

Nicknames for Hyunjin (in phone): Mr.Hwang

Nicknames for Lily (in phone):Mrs.Hwang

HAN JISUNG+HWANG LILY (Lisung):

These bro jokers of the group.

They both have mental problems...

They write sad lyrical songs together.

Sweet tooth and of course the leaders of the sunny trio.

He's so chaotic and she's calm.

There are paired rings and paired T-shirts, the participants consider their T-shirts to be cringe, but they like it.

A very noisy duet part 2

Lily Paints Jisung's Nails.

They walk together to refresh their minds and get back to normal.

Walking with dogs is possible!

High notes are their place of comfort.

They didn't communicate during their trainee days.

Nicknames for Jisung (in phone): Squirrel 🌙

Nicknames for Lily (in phone): Lily ily

LEE FELIX+HWANG LILY (Lilix):

HER LITTLE BOY LIX 🥺🥺🥺

completes the sunny trio.

UBUBUBU LILY IS VERY GENTLE AND CAREFUL WITH HIM.

they bake desserts together!

Felix arranges ASMR sessions for Lily.

She saw his abs and went crazy.

Literally two kittens.

Lily's soft voice and Felix's bass....

They have several covers and songs together and maybe stay will hear them.

She was very careful and gentle with him during her trainee days, because Felix was very shy and afraid.

HE IS HER SUNSHINE:(((

They're soulmates, okay?

The second most popular pairing is with Lily (Chanly is in first place, and Limin is in third)

Nicknames for Felix (in phone): Bby sunny 🥺🩷

Nicknames for Lily (in phone): Kitten soo 😼

KIM SEUNGMIN+HWANG LILY (Seungly):

Okay...he's a pain in her ass.

SHE BARKED AROUND HIM ONCE (he thinks she's weird)

Lily loves his vocals and his voice.

Seungmin mocks Lily, but he also knows how to care.

Seungmin teaches Lily to play baseball, but she is not a very good player.

He takes photos of her, because according to Lily, Seungmin takes the best photos.

Snarky #1

When she is anxious, he brings her some soft toy and leaves.

But then the boy always finds out how she feels.

DAY6 FANS

Let Seungmin smile so widely next to Lily

Nicknames for Seungmin (in phone): Don't pick up the phone

Nicknames for Lily (in phone): Lily bear

I.N+HWANG LILY (Lijeon):

Her sweet child!

But, I want to say that Jeongin is 23 (!) and he is such a protection and support for Lily, he loves her very much 🥺

They go to Busan together and hang out there

Jeongin's family considers Lily their daughter (problems in Lily's family)

Jeongin is so handsome and sweet, Lily loves his company

He repeatedly selected looks and outfits for her for some outings and she did the same for him.

Jeongin allows Lily to hug him WITHOUT PROBLEMS AND NOT LIKE WITH THE OTHER MEMBERS.

Literally helped him with his homework

They have a card (which all the Stays fight for) where they are hugging and they are wearing pale pink outfits

They watch dramas at night (Chan scolds them for this).

Nicknames for Jeongin (in phone): millionaire guy

Nicknames for Lily (in phone): beautiful bear 🐻🫂

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVENTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Now that you have regained your memories, you and Bian must set off in search of allies.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hey…how y’all doing…sorry this chapter is so blech it’s a little transition thing so that the next arc can finally start in full LMAO i don’t really like it but it does what it has to

You threw the book away from you, earning a surprised squawk from Bian. She flapped her wings and drew back, the feathers of her crest standing on end in an attempt to look intimidating before smoothing down as she realized there was no imminent threat. Then, she cocked her head at you, cooing in confusion.

“That half-witted, self-involved, traitorous excuse for a person!” you said to her. “That — that — well, he is lucky I’ve only realized who I am now that I have already run away, or else I’d march to the palace and kill him myself!”

The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. That was who you really were. The Soldiers of Agni had not been the ones to destroy the wing of the Earth Palace, you had. They were not the ones who had been vastly outnumbered in the face of opposition, you were. And the royal family of the Earth Kingdom had not entirely been killed during the coup, because you were still alive.

But — but did that mean Kuei was dead? Had they gone into Ba Sing Se and found him and murdered him? Your dear brother…there was such a low chance that he would’ve survived on his own, and an even lower chance that he would’ve escaped notice. Not with his bumbling, innocent worldview. Not with Bosco constantly at his side, drawing attention without even trying. Not without any way to defend himself, no bending or weapons or guards to speak of.

Then it had been meaningless. You had given up your life for nothing. Kuei was dead. The Avatar was dead — or, if he was not quite yet dead, then he would soon fall again at Princess Azula’s hands. Ba Sing Se had been conquered by the Fire Nation, and all the while you had been lounging around in the palace of the very country that had stolen your home, attending its school and befriending its people.

“Ursa,” you seethed, getting up and pacing restlessly, the ground shaking with your every step as your long-suppressed bending flared to life and ran wildly out of control. “A prisoner of the Earth Kingdom’s. Hilarious. Hilarious. Tortured for Fire Nation secrets! What a great story, huh, Bian? Lifted directly from Seven Soldiers of Agni, I’d wager! And all the while, I was his prisoner, and I didn’t even know it! I — I spoke so kindly to the person who ordered my execution…”

The ground stopped shaking as your anger faded, replaced with a bout of the mourning you had not yet been allowed to feel. Mourning for your brother, who you would never see again. Mourning for those days you had spent with Lee and Mushi, which were the few in which you had truly been happy. Mourning for your subjects, who were now in the grasp of the Fire Nation, likely under even more oppressive conditions than before.

“What can I even do now?” you whispered, though you had no illusions that anyone would answer. There was no Quynh to advise you this time. You had to do it yourself. You had to make the decisions.

Yet, you had attempted such a thing before, hadn’t you? You had tried to do the right thing back in the Earth Palace. You had sacrificed yourself to save your brother, to buy your kingdom time, but you had been ultimately unsuccessful. The only decisions you had ever made for yourself had been the wrong ones. So how could you be sure that the next ones you made would not be more of the same? How could you be sure when there was such a high probability that you would once again choose incorrectly?

“I am lost,” you admitted to Bian, a tear rolling down your cheek, followed by another, and then another. “I am utterly lost. I have nary a clue where to go next.”

Bian blinked at you. She was the only one around who you could talk to, but of course, you should not have expected her to be able to talk back. She wasn’t a spirit in the way of Quynh. She was just a regular, if not spectacularly bred and incredibly intelligent, bird.

There was no point in dawdling about hopelessly. Once the sun rose properly, Jia-Li would awaken and realize that you were gone for good. And then — and then you could expect the worst. There was no way that the Fire Nation would allow you to live, not now that you knew your true identity. There was no way Prince Zuko would allow you to jeopardize him like that. You had only this one night before the royal forces were sent after you.

“I have to find allies,” you said as you attempted to calm yourself by recounting the supplies you had brought with you.

It was the most important thing. If you wanted a chance at retaking your kingdom, then you needed people on your side, people who had the strength to back you up in that endeavor. A few days ago, the only allies you could claim to have had were Jia-Li and Ty Lee, but the situation had changed drastically, and now, they could both be considered nothing but enemies.

Your best chance lay in finding Katara, Sokka, and the rest of the Southern Water Tribe forces. Although their fleet was nothing magnificent, it was at least a starting point, one which you desperately needed. From there, you would take their advice into consideration as you tried to figure out a way to regain your kingdom from the clutches of the Fire Nation.

You slept fitfully, restlessly, awakening often and gazing up at the moon before uneasily convincing yourself to rest for just a little longer. The effect was that by the time the blazing sun began to rise in the cloudless sky, you were no less exhausted than you had been when it had set.

“We must be off,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder and whistling for Bian, who had flown off some minutes ago to hunt. When she did not appear immediately, you whistled again, holding out your arm for her to perch on. “Bian! We hardly have the time for this!”

There was a furious shriek, and then Bian tumbled out of the air, one of her wings bent at an awkward angle as a raven eagle dove after her with claws outstretched. Although she could not fly, she still snapped at her foe, her fearsome beak bloody around the corners, a streak of red upon the raven eagle’s breast where she must’ve been able to catch him.

“Bian!” you shouted, racing over to catch her and holding her to your chest as the raven eagle pulled out of its dive, too cowardly to face a foe so much larger than it. It screeched at you in contempt before soaring up out of the forest and out of view. You ignored it, setting Bian on the ground and using the ends of your sleeves to wipe at her beak. “Why would you do that? Why did you challenge that awful bird?”

Bian offered you her leg. At first, you thought she was trying to show you another injury, but beyond her broken wing, she seemed to have escaped the scuffle unscathed. Seconds later, you realized she was clutching a rolled up scroll tightly in her claws, only relinquishing it when you pressed on it with your pointer finger.

“Where did you find this?” you said. It was sealed with the stamp of the Fire Nation military, though you doubted that that raven eagle had any association with the army. Likely it had intercepted some official communications, and Bian, who had after all once been a Fire Nation bird, had attacked him for the treachery.

There wasn’t much written on the note, but for you, who had just regained your memories, it was yet another foundation-shaking statement.

The Avatar lives. Alert the Fire Lord immediately.

The Avatar was alive. Aang was alive, and he must’ve hale, for such an urgent letter to be sent off to the military, which meant that there was hope. If — if you could just reach him before Princess Azula did, then there was hope. Returning to Ba Sing Se would not be such a fever dream if you had the Avatar at your side, and you scooped Bian back into your arms, kissing her between her eyes.

“You always bring me such lovely things, Bian,” you said. She cooed at you plaintively, and you winced in dismay as you realized her wing hung uselessly at her side, her body shaking in your hands from the pain of the destruction of her frail bones. “And this is the thanks you receive. From what I recall, there is a village nearby, and there should be someone who can treat you in it. We will do that first, and from there, we will figure out some way to find the Avatar.”

Strangely, as you trekked through the forest, you found yourself grateful for your enrollment at the academy. This was exactly the kind of situation you had run drills for, and whereas in your years as the princess of the Earth Kingdom you would’ve run out of breath or fallen or underwent some other, similar calamity, your time as Ursa of the Fire Nation had prepared you for this.

It was the last gift Prince Zuko had given you, unwittingly though it may have been. By sending you to that school, he had inadvertently prepared you to be his most dangerous enemy — made more dangerous for the fact that he must have believed you still loved him, or at least held enough affection for him that you’d excuse his actions upon coming to know of them.

You didn’t excuse them. How could you? He had taken everything from you, and then he had dragged you back to his nation without any care for how it might make you feel. What selfishness! What ignorance! What folly! It was blindness on his part, to imagine that a bear could flourish in a land of phoenixes, to truly believe that you could’ve been happy in the Fire Nation for any extended amount of time.

You made it to the village by noon, and though there was no reason for anyone there to recognize you, you ducked your head as you raced to the post office, where all mail brought to the village was kept to be sorted and distributed into mailboxes. Because of the large influx of messenger hawks that went back and forth from the post office, you were more likely to find help for Bian there than anyone else.

“Excuse me, postmaster, sir,” you said, bowing at the man who was sitting at the counter behind piles of letters. “Might I trouble you for a moment?”

“What is it?” he said gruffly, clearly irritated by your request. You wilted at the unsaid rebuke, but then you straightened your shoulders again. It didn’t matter if the man was annoyed — Bian needed help, and you would get it for her.

“My hawk, I think her wing is broken,” you said, placing Bian on the counter and shushing her when she tried to flap away in vain. The postmaster squinted at her.

“She’s a fine example of the species,” he said, a note of suspicion entering his tone. “Where’d you find such a lovely creature? And why’d you let her get in this condition? Birds such as her are meant to be ornaments, symbols of status, not actual messengers.”

Yet another thing Prince Zuko had neglected to tell you. Well, this you could not blame him for; Bian was not the sort to sit around and be a status symbol. Flying and working and fighting were a part of her nature, and she would be miserable without those outlets for her energy.

“She’s mine,” you said. “I got her in the capital city. You know that they only sell the finest of wares there. Though, of course, I could not afford a hawk for mere decorative purposes, so it’s true that I use her to send my letters.”

The postmaster scoffed. “Idiot.”

“Look, is it possible for her to be healed?” you said, rolling your eyes when he bent to inspect Bian’s wing. “That’s all I’m asking for, sir.”

Now that you remembered who you were, it felt odd to be so deferential to a person who you outranked so vastly. Unfortunately, at least for now, everyone thought you were nothing but another common girl, which meant that just about any person you conversed with had to be addressed with respect.

“She’ll be alright in a couple of weeks,” he said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a piece of cloth, wrapping it around Bian’s wing so that it was flush to her body. “You’ll have to carry her around and take care of her in the meantime, but as long as you’re willing to do that, she’ll be able to fly again soon enough. It’ll be like she was never injured.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, sighing in relief at the thought that she would make a full recovery. “Thank you for your help. Did you hear, Bian? You’ll be okay.”

“You named her Bian?” the postmaster said. “What, have you been engaging with the colony trash?”

“Pardon?” you said. “What did you just say?”

“The colonies are such a blight on the Fire Nation,” he said. “Infecting even good and proper girls like you with their backwards customs and words. It’s a disgrace.”

The colonies was the general term used to refer to the Earth Kingdom villages which had fallen to Fire Nation rule. You had never been to any, but from what you had gathered, they were hotbeds of strife and inequality, where the Fire Nation soldiers lorded over the native Earth Kingdom citizens.

Of course — you had not realized it when you had given it to her, but Bian’s name was Earth Kingdom, so the postmaster was not entirely incorrect in guessing that you were from the colonies or had spent some days there. That was not what you were so horrified by — it was the latter part of his accusation, the notion of the Earth Kingdom citizens infecting the Fire Nation, which you took offense to.

Your people were not the invaders. Your people were not the aggressors. Your people had been living in peace until the Fire Nation attacked. If there was any blight, it was them, those destructive forces who burnt and burnt until the world fell to their feet. They were the stain upon the earth, so on what moral authority could this postmaster stand and claim that you were the disgraceful ones?

“Hm,” you said, though you longed to shout at him. There would be no gain from a burst of anger, though. It would only serve to give away your disguise, and you could not have that, not when you were still close enough to the capital that you could be easily tracked down by Prince Zuko and his ilk if you made even a single misstep. “Maybe so.”

“Do you need anything else? I’ll suffer pay cuts if I don’t get this mail sorted by evening,” the postmaster said.

“Pay cuts? You’re a government employee, aren’t you? Your pay shouldn’t be cut without extreme circumstances demanding it,” you said.

“It’s a new policy that Fire Lord Ozai’s put into place,” the postmaster said. “Those not performing to expected capacity will be punished, even though expected capacity is such an unrealistic goal. I haven’t seen my family in a week! I’ve just been sorting mail, mail, and more mail! But, ah, that’s not to say I’m complaining. All hail the royal family!”

“All hail the royal family,” you repeated, as was customary, even though the words were sour on your tongue. “Though that’s certainly a strange development.”

“It’s fine,” the postmaster said. “The Fire Lord is right, as per usual. If even one piece of a machine is not running smoothly, then the entire construction is forfeit. Maybe it doesn’t seem important, but if I am deficient in my work, then the entire nation will be that much delayed.”

“Very well,” you said. “If that’s how you wish to view it, I shan’t stop you. In fact, I’ll leave you to it, though not without a final question: is there any kind of transport that I can take to get somewhere else?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” he said, hunching over the pile of mail again and beginning to sort once more, eyes flicking up to meet yours when he spoke and then returning to his task immediately after.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Just somewhere far from here.”

Belatedly, you realized you probably sounded even more suspicious, which was not a good thing, considering the postmaster was already likely questioning you, but luckily, he did not say anything beyond humming.

“I know of a couple that’s rented a carriage to take them to some southern hospital. You could probably ask to go along with them,” he said.

You brightened. The south was as good of a place to start as any; either way, it was in a different direction from the capital city, so even if the trip did not take you to the Avatar, it would deposit you in a place that was further from Prince Zuko’s reach than you were at present.

“Thank you,” you said. “And where might I find them?”

“The town square, most likely,” he said.

“Farewell, then,” you said, tucking Bian under your arm as you raced off. She did not protest, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze as you sprinted towards the town square, hoping you would not miss the rental carriage’s departure.

As you skidded to a stop in front of a fountain, you huffed in relief when you saw a pregnant woman standing beside a man with a bag slung across his back. Though you had no description to go off of, you were willing to bet money that they were the couple that the postmaster had been referring to, and, after taking a second to catch your breath, you put on your best smile and walked over to bow at the couple.

“Hello, sir, madam,” you said. “I heard from the postmaster that you’ve rented a carriage to go to a southern hospital.”

“Yes, we did. It should be arriving soon,” the woman said.

“Why?” the man said warily, shifting so that he was standing half in front of the woman protectively.

“If you are not opposed, I should like to join you on your journey,” you said, poking Bian in the side. She squawked at you in indignation, and though you momentarily felt bad for bothering her when she was already injured, the noise served to draw the couple’s attention to her. Giving them a winning smile, you brandished Bian in front of you. “As you can see, my messenger hawk is injured. I am hoping to go to that same hospital and seek medical care for her.”

Bian cocked her head at them, blinking in a way that you could only pray they found charming. The man and woman exchanged looks.

“I didn’t know they treated animals, too,” the woman said, rubbing her stomach unsurely.

“Given the state of the, um, economy, they’ve expanded their client base,” you said, batting your own eyelashes. “I shall recompense you upon arrival, naturally.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” the man said, though you doubted he trusted you any.

“Thank you, sir. I promise you will not regret this!” you said.

“I sure hope not,” he said. Bian nipped your hand, and you shook your head before setting her on your shoulder, though not without reprimanding her for the impolite behavior.

“You won’t!”

The carriage rolled into the square only minutes later, and you thanked Quynh internally for sending you into the town at just the right time. Only a bit of a delay and you would’ve been stuck traveling by foot, but instead you would be making your way across the Fire Nation in relative style, taking up your own bench in the carriage and letting Bian rest atop your bags beside you.

“So, what’s your name?” the woman said as the carriage rolled off. You almost responded with Ursa out of habit, but you stopped yourself just in time. You didn’t want to wear anything associated with Prince Zuko, not even a name, and if the couple happened to be questioned at any point, then you did not want your well-known moniker to fall from their lips.

“Jia-Li,” you said easily, borrowing the first Fire Nation name you could think of, apologizing to your likely-frantic roommate as you did so. You had no specific quarrel with her, after all. One day, eventually, when she joined her nation’s army and became your enemy in full, you would not think of her so fondly, but for the moment, she was nothing more than a girl who had been kind to you. Your friend. “My name is Jia-Li.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she said.

“Thank you,” you said. You recognized that you probably ought to ask them for their names in return, but you did not. They were, after all, doing you a great favor by letting you ride in the carriage with them, and you would not repay their kindness with understanding.

If you knew their names, then you could incriminate them as accomplices in your escape, should you ever be captured or otherwise under duress. No, unawareness was the best policy. Maybe you’d seem ruder for it, but it was for their own good that you did so.

“I’m due to give birth soon,” the woman said after an awkward moment where no one spoke. “That’s why we’re going to the southern hospital, you see.”

“Do you expect complications?” you said.

“Every woman in my line has died in childbirth,” she said. “My mother, and her mother before her, and hers before her, so on and so forth. It’s like a curse. We’re hoping that, with the advancements in medicine that have taken place recently, there’s a chance I won’t fall victim to it as well. The southern hospital is supposedly the best in all the Fire Nation — we’ve been on the waitlist for an appointment for months.”

“Oh,” you said, staring out of the window at the scenery flashing by. “My mother died in childbirth as well. I suppose we have that in common.”

Or maybe not. Maybe Sokka’s hunch had been right and Long Feng had had some hand in her death, too. Maybe childbirth was just an easy way to explain her demise, which would’ve been unnatural in any other circumstance. You wouldn’t put it past the scheming Grand Secretariat and his Dai Li underlings, who had proven they would do anything for just a little bit more power.

That was the first thing you’d do, you vowed. As soon as you had your kingdom back, you would put every single one of those horrible people that had had a hand in your parents’ deaths and Ba Sing Se’s fall on trial. None of them would be spared. Even if it took days, you would bring each of them to justice. Perhaps it was a vindictive thought to have, but it made you feel better to think it, so you did not allow anything resembling a conscience to demand you stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“I mourn who she might’ve been,” you said. “But not who she was. I never knew her, after all. Though I thank you for it, you should save your concern for those in direr need.”

The closer and closer you got to the southern hospital, the more the man fretted, fussing over his wife, who seemed to be perpetually near tears. You did not blame either of them; the prospect of the woman’s possibly imminent death was sickening for you, too, and you did not even know her that well.

It was mystifying to you. If she knew that she had such a high chance of dying while giving birth, why had she chosen to conceive? It made no sense. It was an entirely avoidable form of death, and despite the insensitive nature of the query, you posed the question to her.

“Because,” she said without even taking the time to think, squeezing her husband’s hand, “there’s a chance.”

“A chance?” you said.

“A chance,” she affirmed. “That I’ll survive. That our baby will be healthy. That we can have the family we’ve dreamed of. It’s a small chance, admittedly. Maybe even a minuscule one. Most people call us insane for risking it. I’m sure you think the same. But the truth is that, as long as that chance exists, I have to rely on it. We have to.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you said.

“Maybe not to some,” she said. “Everyone has to decide what they value, and then they just have to do what they can in pursuit of that thing.”

You were silent for a second, swallowing, gathering your thoughts, finding boldness in the anonymity of the conversation. They did not know you, and you did not know them, and it gave you the confidence to say something you would not dare vocalize to anyone else.

“What if a person values two things that are in conflict?” you said. “Say, their home and someone they love. What then?”

It was the man who spoke up this time. “If they really love that person, then they’ll do as that person wishes, even if it’s difficult. Even if it means they can’t have something else they desire.”

He glanced at the woman when he spoke, and you realized that he must have been speaking from personal experience.

“I see,” you said. “I guess it must be like that.”

It was a confirmation of what you had thought — that Prince Zuko had never loved you, not like you had loved him. You had given him everything, had allowed him through Quynh’s Door, and all the while, he had felt nothing for you. He had been pretending. You had told him the way to get into the palace, and he had seized the opportunity you had presented him with.

That was all you were to him. That was all you had ever been. An opportunity. A key. A door. What a stupid girl you were, to think he had ever thought of you as anything but Princess Y/N, his very own entrance to the Earth Palace.

“We’re really worried,” the man confided in you as the woman slept. “It took so long for the hospital to agree to see us, and longer to find a rental carriage willing to travel so far. If anything happens and we’re late to the appointment, I’m afraid they’ll turn us away. As it is, we’ll probably arrive with only an hour to spare.”

“I’m sure there won’t be any issues,” you said. Almost on cue, the carriage caught on something, and then it rolled to a stop. You swore under your breath before pursing your lips, not wanting to seem even impoliter than you already had.

“What’s happening?” the man said in a panic, pulling the curtains back and peering out the window. His wife woke with a start, glancing around, still dazed.

“What’s going on?” she echoed.

“By my estimates, it’s a routine stop. Perhaps one of the dragon moose grew tired and needed to be given water. There’s nothing to fret about,” you soothed, though you had no clue whether that was the truth or not. “I’m sure we’ll get going in just a few moments.”

The carriage door opened, and the driver entered, hunching over to fit in the doorway as he looked at you all with a grave expression.

“It seems we’ve hit someone,” he said.

“What?” the man shrieked.

“As in, they’re dead?” you said.

“No, they’re living, but they’re demanding payment for the injuries and trauma,” he said.

“Go on, then,” you said. “Pay them.”

“The company I work for doesn’t give us extra allowance for accidents,” the driver said. “It’s stated in the terms of the contract that passengers are responsible for additional fees incurred during the trip.”

“Just negotiating is going to take a while,” the man said, pale-faced. “Not to mention any savings we didn’t waste on hiring you are meant to pay for the hospital visit. We don’t have any extra!”

“You’ve possibly wounded the child for life,” the carriage driver said dully. “Yet you’re still being stingy?”

You frowned as you watched the back and forth, the way the woman’s eyes had widened and grown glossy with tears, the way the man’s fists were clenched to disguise the trembling of his hands. Though the situation was so different, you were reminded of Ba Sing Se. Here, too, the ordinary people were suffering. And here, too, though they were not your people, you felt a sense of duty prevailing in you, commanding you to help.

“I’ll deal with it,” you said. “You, just get them to the hospital as soon as possible. They have an appointment that they cannot miss.”

“But Jia-Li, what about your bird?” the woman said.

“Eh?” you said. She pointed at Bian. “Oh, we’ll, um, find another doctor nearby. You ought to worry only for your own condition, madam.”

“Thank you, miss,” the man said.

“Consider this my payment for the ride and the advice,” you said. “I thank you for both, and I pray that your child may be born with a good spirit and a healthy mother. May Agni be with you always.”

“You as well,” the woman said.

“We won’t ever forget what you’ve done for us,” the man promised you. “This may be the last time we meet, but we’ll remember you.”

You smiled at them, picking up your bag of things in one hand and Bian in the other.

“I’ll think of you often,” you promised, kicking the door shut behind you and hopping off the carriage, waving at the carriage driver to indicate that he could leave without you before turning to the scene of the wreck — only to find that there was no wreck, just a familiar boy standing and staring at you with a dropped jaw.

“Princess — Princess — Princess Y/N? Is that really you?” he said.

Your bag fell from your hands in shock as you comprehended who you were looking at. Placing Bian on the ground, you took a step forward, reaching your hands out, trying to ascertain if he was real or not.

“Sokka?” you said. “Sokka, what are you doing here? Why do I always encounter you in these strange, random places?”

“I should be asking you the same question!” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead right now?”

“Yes,” you said, and then you were throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly, so relieved to finally have found one true ally, one person who knew who you really were. His own arms wound around your back, and unbidden, your lower lip began to tremble as the safety of his embrace finally allowed you to unabashedly weep. “Yes, I should be dead. I thought I was dead.”

“Looks like your brother threw a fit over nothing,” a new voice said — Toph! It was Toph, springing to her feet from where she had been lying in the road, dusting herself off. “I mean, honestly, I get that he was sad and all, but an escape is not exactly the moment to throw yourself to the ground and bawl and dramatically swear you’ll never leave the city your sister is buried in! It’s a miracle we dragged him and Bosco away.”

“What?” you said. “Do you — Do you mean to say that my brother is alive?”

“Yeah, he is,” Toph said. “He ran off to explore the Earth Kingdom and find himself, though. Something about how if ‘his dear baby sister could be so brave, then it was about time he started doing the same.’”

“Kuei,” you said, overcome with a wave of affection for your brother. He was alive. Somehow, despite the odds, despite everything working against him, he had made it. He had found the others, and he had survived, which meant you could see him again. The two of you could reclaim Ba Sing Se together, united in your efforts instead of carrying each other’s banners in memory.

“He really loves you,” Sokka said. “It’s one of the few things I have to give to him. He’s a lot of things, but a bad brother isn’t one of them.”

You wiped away your tears, letting go of Sokka and stooping down to grab your bag and the discarded Bian, who thankfully did not seem too miffed about the proceedings, nudging you with her beak in what you could only assume was her method of showing you affection.

“He’s the most wonderful brother,” you said. “I didn’t always appreciate that, but I will make sure to tell him every hour of every day once we may meet again.”

“That’s cheesy,” Toph said. “But kinda cute.”

“Wait, Toph,” you said. “This is a little bit unrelated, but were you the one that the carriage hit?”

“Uh,” Toph said, scratching the back of her neck.

“Well,” Sokka said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kind of?” Toph said.

Your jaw dropped as you realized what they had done, and, looking around to make sure no one was watching, you lifted a pebble using your Earthbending and flicked it into Sokka’s forehead. This earned you a wounded yelp from him and a cackling laugh from Toph, who you had not bothered attacking on account of her seismic sense.

“You buffoons,” you said. “Did you seriously try to scam me?”

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @lovialy @heart4hees @stefnarda @ioonatv @vvicaddiction @yukihatesreoyo @yodayyy @ellzbellz18 @wscxbells

[dancing-with-draegons]

Poison From the Same Vine

pt. 1

pairing: Larys Strong x reader/OC (she/her pronouns, no names, no descriptions)

summary: Larys has found his match in a shrewd and ruthless widow with a taste for spying, intrigue and poison. A battle of wits and worse ensues. Sexual tension.

warnings: talk of murder, poison play, intrigue, hints of NSFW, dark

word count: 2.4k

There was no man who could stand up to Larys Clubfoot, sneaky and treacherous as he was. But there was a woman who could. She was thrice widowed, with a dangerous sort of beauty that should warn men of the dangers that lay in her alluring eyes, her blood red lips, underneath her silken skin.

But men were fools and she liked to draw them in, and ruin them.

For the longest time, she had played her own game: a dead husband here and there, an obedient lover, an obsessed knight. But when she had come to the Red Keep, the stakes had grown, and she with them.

Men liked to tattle, women liked to share the gossip they had picked up on during the day, and the widow of Blackcrown shares her bed with them, her wine or friendship, whatever was required to hear what she needed to hear.

In time, she had drawn the eye of a prince, and his desire protected her better than any armour.

Larys Clubfoot wanted her gone, but a prince’s whore could be as powerful as a queen and she had long made her throne in Aegon's bed, and Tyland’s, and a dozen others.

Did Larys loathe her for the power she held? Did he lie awake at night and dream of besting her, like she did?

He was the one person at court whom she could not win over, the one man who proved invincible to her charms.

Sometimes, he would come to haunt her in her chambers, always giving some threadbare excuse to threaten her, or goad her. And so he had come today, to speak of soldiers and whores.

“You are a shrewd man, Lord Larys,” she said, without any regard for his threats, “though few will ever see that. But you pay your spies in silver or gold – and I have a purse you cannot match.”

She traced his cheekbone with one long finger.

He followed her with his eyes, grey like cruel midwinter frost.

“It seems an…affliction has befallen many of those who have frequented the street of silk of late,” he said, and although his face was a mask of pity and his voice carefully inflected to suggest the same, she realised that this was his great moment of triumph and the true reason he had come here today.

“An affliction.”

“A disease caught from some concubine, no doubt. Many of those women hail from the Free Cities and the uncivil lands beyond.”

“It does give one occasion to pause and contemplate our construct of civility, does it not?”

“Indeed.” He inclined his head. “For now, my prayers are with the afflicted. Such a terrible pox befalls them. Many are disfigured afterwards, if they survive the disease, that is.”

“I understand why you must empathise with those poor souls. But let their fate not burden you overmuch, my lord.”

“I shall heed your counsel, my lady. Only the most depraved fall victim to it, or so word has it.”

“So it begins. Yet, if it should befall those of gentler birth, of the gentlest birth – why, I am certain the origin of this disease will be found and uprooted.”

Larys Strong only smiled. He was not fool enough to spread the disease to Aegon's brothels. And yet…was there a way to limit the spreading? If so, she needed to find it, and quickly, or else her business would soon run dry. Larys seemed to believe that she opened her legs to any man she asked for a favour, and good for her he did.

But it was the promise of her cunt that moved many a man to do as she pleased. With a pox as terrible and dangerous as that, not only would she herself be at risk, no, the promise of coin would lure more men than her smile.

“I do pity the whores,” Larys said, and there was little of his usual softness remaining, “how will they earn their keep when their purses…run dry?”

“A dry whore is as useful as wet firewood,” she agreed amiably.

Larys Strong had no taste for the whores on the street of silk. He preferred his bed warmer crowned and reluctant. And when the queen was indisposed, rumour had it his tastes were perverse and strange, and those women that had to satisfy him never talked to anyone again.

She knew what he liked.

As she leant against the table and stretched out her legs, the hem of her gown rode up to reveal her slippered feet.

It was a dare.

Larys looked down on cue, and for a moment, his eyes rested on what she had bared to him.

No stockings. That alone was scandalous.

Her slippers were velvet, soft and clinging like a lovers’ embrace, and left much of her feet bare.

Her ankles were just visible underneath the hem of her gown.

When he looked up at her again, he was smiling.

“Those women are never out of tricks, though,” she said.

“Cheap tricks.”

Larys did not look down again but she sensed that he wanted to. And he wanted to do more.

Her obvious seduction attempt had shifted something between them.

And now, when he wanted to subdue her, he would think about ways that would be gratifying for him.

~o~

“Lord Larys.” She welcomed him into her chambers. “You bring happy tidings, I trust.”

“Indeed. It seems the Silk Street pox has vanished as quickly as it came.“

It had indeed, and turned out not have been a pox at all but a concoction made by some northern witch. A few drops had been enough to make boils appear and hearts slow, and soon enough, the panic that had followed had ferried some more poor souls to the Stranger.

She had caught wind of at all not in the city, but here, when a vial had been attached to a scroll for Lord Larys. He had taken great pains to hide it, her little lover had said, and had succeeded in doing so even from the maester, yet not from him. She had bedded him in return, but by morning, the boy had fallen down the serpentine steps and broken his neck. She considered herself innocent on that front. Larys was thorough, and it had been folly to observe him so obviously. She loathed to lose faithful informers, but he had tasted the sweet nectar of her cunt and oftentimes men became less loyal after that particular promise was fulfilled, so all in all it was no loss she couldn't cope with. There were two score where the page had come from, and there was a never ending supply of foolish, cuntstruck men.

The only exception stood before her.

“How wonderful,” she said and gave Larys' her most seductive smile. “We must drink to that.”

She led him to the table in the centre of the room, then slowly poured a fine Arbor vintage into two cups.

Larys had followed her to the table without a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Did he desire her already? Had he come not only to bring her these tidings and find out what she knew but to see her, smell her, maybe taste her?

He plunged his hand into the folds of his doublet but not to open the clasps, she realised with some disappointment, when he produced a ring.

It was an ugly thing, with a thick band made of yellow gold and set with a large, square onyx. She knew it well: her first husband had once given it to her as a nameday gift.

“Have you by any chance seen this ring before?”

She took it carefully and examined it, saw where the stone had been filed down to hide the carving it had once borne, the ill-fitting seams of the heavy gold band where it had been widened.

That had been done at Oldtown ten years ago. She doubted the jeweller was still in business, it had been a small, dinghy little shop far away from the cobbled main street. Not even Larys could know.

“I cannot say I have. Is it yours?”

Larys smiled. “It was found in the pocket of a soldier.”

“No doubt he stole it.”

“He sings a different song.” Larys' pale grey eyes were trained on her.

“A bawdy one, no doubt.”

“Not so much, no. And won't ever again, I'm afraid.”

“Poor creature.”

She seized the cups to offer him one, but froze as her fingers wrapped around the brass.

Had the right one not been closer to the edge of the table? And the other one had been further away from the pitcher.

She turned to look at Larys, whose eyes still rested on her. He looked calm, very pleased.

Had he switched the cups?

It made no matter. The antidote was in her pocket, and smeared over her lips.

If he thought he could trick her this easily, he would soon have to reconsider.

She gave him the right cup, then raised the left.

“To justice.”

He replied in kind, and drank deeply. She did the same.

The wine was sweet and heavy. She drank again, to prove a point.

“A good vintage,” she said and licked her lips until the antidote coated her tongue bitter and waxy, with an odd sort of aftertaste.

He nodded and took a measured sip.

“I have come to request your aid,” he said, slowly.

“You flatter me, my lord. How could I, a lonely widow, possibly help the Lord of Harrenhal?”

There was no man who looked at her like Larys Strong. His eyes were soulless and cold, his gaze unwavering, never lustful or heated, always intense, always calculating.

“Maester Mellos was quite troubled. He had found that his study had been broken into.”

Ice flooded her veins.

“The door is rarely locked, I heard.”

“Indeed. Are you not curious how he knew someone had entered without his leave?”

Her heart beat furiously in her chest.

“I had thought you would enlighten me momentarily, my lord.”

“Something was stolen.”

“How terrible.”

She blinked. The light of the candles was strangely blinding.

“A rare poison.” His voice was a seductive whisper.

“Not deadly, I hope.”

Her voice sounded breathless.

“Very, I fear. It heightens the senses at first, quickens the heartbeat. It is most…stimulating for a while as the blood flow is increased. And then, after a few hours, the heart gives out.”

“How gruesome.”

A treacherous throbbing began to spread between her legs.

“In the Free Cities, they call it Widowmaker. Many a wife has found her husband dead after coupling. Did not your first husband's heart give out one night?”

“A horrible tragedy. I still remember how the light went out of his eyes that night, as we made love. But he was an old man, and liked ale and venison overmuch.”

“Mh.”

Larys considered her for a moment. “The poison was not all that was stolen, however.”

“No? A greedy thief.”

“There was another vial Maester Mellos found missing. It had been erroneously labelled as an antidote to the Widowmaker poison.”

“That is a curious mistake to make.”

“Do you not wish to know what that second vial contained instead?”

“Of course.”

“Mainly beeswax,” he replied, “mixed with something quite revolting, if you catch my meaning.”

She took a swallow of wine as the first wave of lust took hold of her body.

Larys smiled.

“I remember you saying you came to ask for my help.”

“Yes,” his voice was soft, almost a caress, and it stroked something inside her. She needed this man between her legs, she needed his hands, his tongue, his cock.

Her laboured breath filled the silence for a moment, as he took in the effect of his workings with unhidden delight.

“To justice, you toasted. I have come to ask which punishment you consider fit for this thief.”

“Have you found him then?”

Larys took a step towards her, then rested his hands on his cane. “I am drawing closer.”

“Good.”

“It is customary for a thief to lose their hand, and for a liar to lose their tongue.”

“Mayhaps they could put both to good use, though.”

She opened the first clasp of her overgown. The chemise underneath was thin, almost translucent. Larys’ eyes dropped to the neckline but there was little interest in his gaze.

She raised the hem of the gown.

“Mayhaps,” Larys agreed. “Though there must be some form of punishment.”

“I suppose the Lord Confessor has other ways of punishment? Less….bloody?”

His grip tightened on his cane, the only indicator that he was not as calm as he pretended to be.

“Certainly. To break a man's spirit – or a woman's – can be just as…righteous as to break her bones.”

His voice…cruel, hard, and yet so soft. She rubbed her thighs together to calm the pulsing desire between her legs but to no avail. Larys watched eagle-eyed, his lips slightly parted in a smile, the wet tip of his pink tongue softly caressing his lower lip.

“Some do not break easy though, I trust.” Though she no longer felt invincible. She would die within a few hours, poisoned by what she had given her first husband the night he'd chosen to bed a chambermaid instead of her.

There was some justice in that, she supposed, and the sort of bitter irony she could appreciate.

What she could not appreciate was the way the poison began to cloud her judgement and take over her body. She had long wanted him to want her, wanted to drive him mad with desire, and now he had turned the tables on her with alarming ease.

“All break eventually,” he said, gazing at her curiously, “Though of course, should the thief have accidentally sampled the poison, thinking the antidote is at hand, the thief will not give me a lot of time to get a confession.”

“The antidote. I trust Maester Mellos still holds on to it?”

“He thought it best that I store it safely, just in case the thief makes another attempt.”

“And you keep it in a secret hideaway, I suppose.”

“No.” Larys raised the other cup, the clean cup, to his lips and took a measured sip as he made her wait for the answer she needed. “I have it on me.”

It took her a moment to understand his meaning. Then her hands went to the second clasp of her gown.

[metakazkz]

Abyss!sans as a fairy!?

I was reading the ask comic of @ayyy-imma-ninja about FNAF sun and moon as fairy au. I really like the drawing and the story are pretty good.

So I was curious what my Abysstale sans look like as a fairy.

Well it turn out to be great. Now Abyss can't escape being call cute now. Ever though he said multiple time that he is cool and awesome.

story for fun.

So how did Abyss turn into a fairy? Well, Sunny (my version of the Sun and Moon) wanted to see his own version in a different world. He really likes fairies but he can't go there alone without someone guiding him, otherwise he would get lost. So since Abyss!sans knows about all the multiverses and asks him to join him. Of course, Abyss!sans refuses because he is undertale and deltarune au. So going there is out of place, it doesn't seem right. Sunny begs the creator to turn Abyss!sans into a fairy. Abyss asks the creator not to do this. But too late, a bolt of lightning strikes Abyss and magically transforms him into a fairy. Now furious, he is now forced to join Sunny in the quest for his fairy version.

In his fairy form, Abyss can't no longer use his bones attack, teleportation and his Gaster blasters. But he can still use his Cell energy power. Useful for his survival and helping Sunny not to get himself in dangers. Abyss will be a good little guardian angel.

Abyss!sans fairy, Sunny and Mtt Gibson (me) metakazkz

FNAF DCA Fairy @ayyy-imma-ninja

Artwork by me metakazkz

[nthspecialll]

American Venom, what happened?

When it comes to American Venom there are about as many theories as there are players of red dead two, so I would like to give my two cents of thoughts and we are going to start with Dutch.

Why was Dutch Van Der Linde together with Micah Bell? The man who helped cause the downfall of his family, the man who he turned his back on and left on a mountain, the man he hadn't spoken to for eight years? Why were they speaking? I think we find the answer with Arthur.

John says himself that Dutch Van Der Linde is a very colorful character, yet also points out that he might not be any longer because what happened changed all of them. And I think he is very correct here, Dutch is a colorful man, or was a colorful man. The Dutch that we knew from before the downfall would never go eight entire years without drawing attention to himself, yet he did now. He changed.

Dutch went eight years keeping to himself, hiding in a cave probably, all alone, without a gang for the first time since 1875. I wonder what one does when isolating oneself for eight years. I imagne one thinks.

I think that Dutch spent all that time thinking, most likely about what happened with the gang and Arthur. I am not the best at facial expressions but I don't think it was anger that he looked at Arthur with in the high honor staying with John. It looked more like regret, frustration, sorrow. The curl of the brow, his entire face squinting together around the nose, that is a face I have only seen in people who just realized or heard something they wish they hadn't.

The way he looks at Micah too, it isn't anger, it isn't surprise... It is just... Hurt. I don't think in this moment he realized Micah was the rat, I just think he realized that he had been foolish, his family was gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

I don't think he thought "Micah, you betrayed me" I think he thought "Micah... I failed them."

When finally having time to think, I think Dutch realized something, no matter how much he liked to think otherwise, Arthur was still his son and he failed him. No matter how many fancy words and fancy speeches he created he still couldn't save the people whom he had cared for. I don't think he necessarily thought he had done wrong, I think he just thought he hadn't done enough.

When it comes to American Venom itself, I think he was there for closure, maybe even revenge. I don't think he was there necessarily to kill Micah in the end but maybe more to find out what really happened, to hear it from another person. I do however think he was ready to kill Micah if the answer wasn't something he liked, such as Micah's talk of "cutting off the weak" or "it had to happen" because Dutch never believed that, even in the end.

That said, I do not think he had planned on doing it when he did, I think the timing was a split-second decision. Was it because he didn't know Arthur was dead? No, he knew, but I do have two theories here.

One, the human mind is great at one thing and it is protecting itself, pushing away the memories that simply hurts too much. You know but you don't know, you don't accept. One thing is knowing Arthur is dead but being able to push it away and doubt your own mind, maybe, maybe he did survive, another thing is hearing someone say it, someone acknowledge it, someone making it real even though it was already real all along. That shock could easily have driven that decision.

Second, Arthur was Dutch's son and I don't think he expected Micah to joke and taunt his death. A man whom he already had a complicated relationship with, taunted his son, it can't have been a hard choice.

What about John and Sadie? I don't think Dutch cared much about them in the end, but why would he care for Arthur and not John? Dutch cannonly thinks John is the rat, I imagine he just saw Arthur as a follower, as someone manipulated by John, that is my belief. Does he still think John was the rat in the end? Maybe, I don't think he cared.

He used to be a man of ideals but as he said himself "I don't have much to say anymore." It was ideals that drove him but he doesn't have them anymore and I think he realized it doesn't matter who did what, it doesn't change anything and so far revenge hasn't done him anything good.

The loss of ideals was what changed Dutch and that is my two cents of thoughts.

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

Some advice from AU Calebs!

Heck yeah I did it! Finally i finished ONE of the HUNDREDS AU crossover ideas I have in my head!! Crossovers are fun guys!! (I apologise for a bad english in advance. Writing this it a rush.)

"It's ok to ask for help." (A Reverse Of Feathers And Mud by @jess-the-vampire)

I couldn't make a crossover meme without the legend. Sorry, not sorry. He is such a sad lad but tries to stay positive and be happy for his family uydfykudsutsudskudsluds (*dies*). I have to admitt, Caleb's dad energy is too strong for me to handle without wanting a hug him. No wonder! He was THE grandpa for centuries straight without a break. At least Caleb gets his whole family together in the end. Comics with him and either Hunter and Philip or Luz and Eda make me run in cirles around the room aaaa.

"You are not a burden." (Brother's Keeper by @idoodlestuffsometimes)

Damn, you definetly created one of the darkest AU in the fandom. Each time I re-read AU related posts I scream my lungs out because it is so angsty and so great. I am genuinely scared of your Belos ngl, because.. this man didnt loose anything and he still proceeds to do all that stuff. Enconter with him has 0 survival rate.

POOR CALEB! At least in the world of memes he had an opportunity to flee the captivity twice (the bald head and the car). This man had no moment of mental rest for centuries oh my God. One of my friends wants to fight his brother personally to protec Caleb at all cost sksksk. Well, at least Hunter will always have an actually loving relative! And if the happy ending is going to be canon, I think the future looks great, especially knowing how much pain all your characters go through currently. (And I think both Caleb and Hunter would need the "you are not a burdain" affirmations. At least some form of support in their situation.)

You said in the latest ask-answer that BK!Caleb was supposed to have white streaks in his hair so I attempted to add them. Hope they look fine! Colors for the outfit I got from Belos, so they would match, I guess???

"Murder is okay." (Loose Strings by @oldmanpip)

My bro, brother, friend... Despite you being not to involved on the discord server, my brain is still rotting with your great awesome AUs. And I know you know that. Your Caleb is really loose in all sences of that word and I love that. Wonder if your AUs will ever be available to the public. Because oh boy oh boy they deserve to be recognised. (Loose Caleb is such a conservative grandpa who never did anything wrong, wdym?)

"Your feelings matter." (Pip In Time by @celestialscribbler)

Honestly? Man, your comic is the reason I got invested in Witteclaw couple at all. Even if the "Pip in time" is not their story, but you wrote their teen romance so sweetly. Those two melted my heart... I scream each time I re-read your comic for 100th time. Just WOAH my brain goes brrr! And Caleb as a character is also written really really well. I love him so much. He is such good brother but MAN HE NEEDS A BREAK FROM BEING AN ADULT! BOY! Insirt crying and heart emojis here.

(PS: hope you still care about your health!)

My thoughts:

I have been drawing this for more than a month I think? And the only reason for that is my university. I hope to actually get an ADHD diagnosis because something is clearly wrong with me. But thats not the point.

There are so many ideas in my head. Goofy and not. The only problem is that I have less and less ability to do what I want lately. I wish I could bring them all to life, but at the same I dont know if anyone will be interested. Would AU crossovers look too self-indulgent? Or nah? Idk. (Just Grimwalker-Isle already has so much potential for stupid ridiculous fun I am runnin on coffee juice.)

Litteraly my mind is plagued with different fun plots and possibilities I am going crazy. But I also have A TON of WIPs that I need to finish. Perhaps I will attempt to manage everything at once, but, no promises.

Wish me luck on my exams!

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

[betterbemeta]

I think AI Art exploits and degrades not just artists, but every single person who looks at it in some ways because 'how we look at art' is part of art itself.

This principle is super easy to experience as an artist. All you have to do is practice and reach a plateau where things you did before seem worse to you, that felt great at the time you made them. Your ability to see art changes as you make art, and as you view art.

It's not snobby to say that there is a low average level of 'seeing' art. There's also a low average level of seeing technical design, or seeing weather patterns, or seeing copy editing mistakes and that's why we have architects and engineers, meteorologists, and professional editors. I think a lot about this bit by Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics:

Like the point here is not that 'most people are superficial', but that the surface of art is what most people are familiar with. And it is this basic familiarity that I believe AI Art exploits to fake integrity, something that even the most well-known laughably 'bad art' still technically has.

Like, laugh all you want but effort went into the surface of this art such that it appeared 'okay' to the one who made it, and to those who maybe aren't paying attention or see that its colored and shaded first, the anatomy last. It relies sort of on your familiarity with 'what art looks like' to accept it, but not completely. Someone did work to try and earn your acceptance even if, uh, it's not very good in some ways.

But AI Art relies fully on how unfamiliar you are with art. Let's call this principle 'glamour'.

At first 'the glamour' is unconvincing: this is during the AI's training. But the first 'pass' is the threshold where information builds up about how to reproduce a minimally acceptable image. This is where the glamour is set: the minimum accuracy to convince a human being to fill in its gaps. To basically capture their imagination. From there, front-end use of the machine learning model is released for general users, and it is those users who then select out of many outputs which glamour fools them most. As the other half of this system, the hidden decision-maker, humans are also 'learning' familiarity with the glamour: comparing it to not just our surface knowledge but to itself. We have left reality.

A good example of this can be seen in AI-generated pictures of fiber crafts. It's possible that traditional or digital artist might not be perfect with their drawing or perspective or coloring etc. or may stylistically push the boundaries of perspective or form on purpose. But for a knit, crocheted, or sewn piece a final product often can't exist without its craft having physical integrity:

Aside from the issues that are obvious (fake tilt shift photography with no consistent field of blur, a spaghetti yarn ball, unknown stitch on the vest, no comprehensible seam between the arm and the body, etc.) here are some things that stick out to me to knowing even a little about knitting,

The fake stockinette on the helmet is confused about whether it is completed horizontally or vertically: vertical on the headband (many hats terminate this way, so there are plenty of images to sample) but indecisive when it has to become a round hat shape.

The number of rows on the arms is inconsistent, decreasing strangely where a k2tog would never be.

There is no consistent way the hands make sense, if they are 'mittens' or if the stockinette ridges become 'fingers'.

We can't see how the bottom of the foot was finished: the left foot either began or was decreased to meet at a central point but it doesn't match the right foot and it's not clear how either foot keeps it shape.

Beyond the plagiarism of the images that went into generating AI outputs, your diminishing time to learn about/be exposed to 'things' (beyond just 'art,' anything that isn't essential to your survival) will become increasingly exploited in the future. If left unchecked, images like these will represent not only novelties or etsy scams but a large amount of people's exposure to 'things' in general. Which then leads to something like AI inbreeding (AI generating based on AI), except like... with you.

When people are more familiar with a glamour than 'the real thing', even superficially.

Exploitation of this type isn't even a new thing. It's just that AI can speed it up or extend it to new spheres. Anyone can see a physical table and think 'this table is crap' if it's poor quality because of how much we use tables and our knowledge of what tables are and should do. But I think the blog McMansion Hell actually illustrates a real, practical situation where the familiarity level with a craft (architecture) is low and standards lower to meet it. These hulks were certainly built to invoke 'glamour', but when closely inspected, they have the design equivalent of 12 fingers or bra straps bleeding into someone's skin.

Another easy example might be the excessive 'glamour' that surrounds selling cars in the USA. Very few people will buy enough cars to become more than superficially familiar with them and the amount of people who are car-related professionals is negligible next to the number of people who require a car.

Both cars and houses are expensive purchases that are made relatively infrequently, which is why their brokers and dealers can bet against a customer's average level of knowledge. But soon, many more things may become like buying houses or cars: obscured by glamour.

AI Art relies on you to be a sucker, just like how a sketchy sales rep depends on you to be a sucker. Except even worse than the sales rep, your brain is expected to not just be dumb and inexperienced, but also to get actively dumber over time from doing all the work too.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Loser Baby~ (Marxolor)

When I first heard this I thought to myself... "this is their song."

In the KBASW AU, they're very similar in nature, and they're brought together through circumstances... both are losers. And that is what makes their relationship so beautiful ~

And yes I changed some of the lyrics to fit Marx better~

Keep reading for extra lore/ spoiler-ish content

I've decided to hit two birds with one stone...knock out a few questions I had...

Yeah, the Marxolor/Magolor asks have been stewing in there... Sorry for taking so long but I FINALLY learned how to draw Magolor.

He plays a big role in the story... he is pretty much very close to his game counterpart, but his reasons and motivations for the Master Crown are very different.

The Master Crown was created and owned by his great-grandmother... Minerva Mim also known as... MAD MADAM MIM. (And for those who aren't familiar with Disney's The Sword in the Stone.) Who was the ruler of Halcandra during her time...

Magolor's full name is Magolor Mim

But she's also a mix with Harry Potter's Minerva McGonagall.

(And yes) she's connected with Lady Celestine (who is this KBASW Merlin), and they were best friends. She's the reason why the Ancients & Halcandrans did business. Halcandran techolong & the Ancients magic. A deal Sir Icarus tried to secure but could not negotiate at all...

However, Celestine managed to get it with ease... (*cough* bribed her way*. ) Over time they did become genuine friends... I'll expand on her later... In short, she was basically the only one whom Celestine told of her alter-ego, Merlyn (Sir Arthur figured it out).

She was snarky, eccentric, and a bit vain at times, but at her core was a good person.

Celestine brought out the best in her and Minerva brought out the adventurous side of her and encouraged her to be bolder. (BTW she was the number one Celarthur shipper).

However, after Celestine's "execution" (secretly they crystalized her): Minvera refused to do business with the GSA & the Ancients due to her friend's unfair trial... despite the threats they made to remove her from power if she continued to remain loyal to Celestine... but no matter how much they threatened her she still couldn't do it...

As a result, the Ancients removed her from her seat as ruler... and the GSA tried to arrest her for siding with a "traitor." However, she didn't go down without fighting. "If I can not have my crown... NO ONE CAN!" Cursing the crown that there will be no more another ruler of Halcandra... and using it to erupt the volcano that resided on the planet... creating its now, current state... becoming MAD MADAM MIM. (But in truth, she was just grieving... loss of her best friend. )

After that, the Ancients ordered to get rid of any descendant of Madam Mim's lineage. And thus the GSA hunted down and exterminated every living relative of Mim's household. However one survived the carnage.

Magolor is the lone survivor of his entire family's... orphaned and on the street... struggling to survive. He did everything to keep himself afloat... even if he had to BEG, STEAL, OR BORROW. HE'D DO IT!(There are a few more things... Magolor had a connection to the Sqeak Squads and Daroach, but that's a story for another day.)

Eventually, he finds out about his heritage and the fact that his whole household was wiped out due to... HER LOYALTY TO ONE PERSON. BAH, DANG IT GRAN WHAT WERE YOU THINKING I COULDA BEEN A KING AND YOU THREW IT AWAY FOR FRIENDSHIP?! From that, you can probably see why Magolor isn't so keen on the value of it since the very thing pretty much wiped out his entire family... And thus began Magolor's search for the crown...

Magolor's betrayal, & redemption does happen like in the game:... does his little shop, makes his amusement park. However, he does a few extra things that connect to the Kirby anime... Magolor manages to revive Chill and rebuild Kirby's robot dog for him (episode 12). (After that, the gang was won over by Magolor...)

Kirby's robo-pet is actually a big thing in the KBASW, he's basically the equivalent of Kirby's iPad/computer.

With this Magolor is fully redeemed, but his arc's not quite done just yet... he still can't help but feel something is missing in his life. Yes, he's learned the value of friendship and junk... he has friends now but... How could he still feel alone when he was people around him.. a feel that he could only describe as underlining emptiness.

Enter Marx. And as I said in the Marx post... Marx saves Kirby ( I won't say from whom yet but) he gets injured the gang wants to help him but... He didn't want a pity party and tried to get away.

Marx: I DON'T NEED YOUR HEL-! *FACE PLANTS ow...

Everyone: You need our help~

Marx wasn't comfortable staying in Dreamland to recover (he knows people *cough* Bun wouldn't take too kindly of him returning), so to compromise, they cashed in a favor from Magolor... Resulting in Marx being delivered by the gang... via kitten in a basket.

Kirby: Hi Mags, this is Marx... Do you think you can watch him for a bit he's we just need you to watch him so he can recover.

Magolor: Okay, sure... but why is he in a basket?

Marx: HISS *shuts the cover*

Meta Knight: He wanted something with a lid on it.

Mags: Oh~kay *picks up basket* I guess you guys can pick him up when he gets better?

Magolor hoped whatever feral creature they had him watching wouldn't be that much trouble or, at the very least, not bite... but Magolor was pleasantly surprised that Marx seemed... to match him quite perfectly...

Shared his love of ancient relics & magic, sarcastic humor, and a wick wittiness similar to his own. And not just interest but personality-wise as well. Marx had an unapologetic straightforwardness that he appreciated, along with a few oddities that he found strangely endearing...This unexpected guest seemed to fit seamlessly into his life... it actually felt nice to have a companion like this.

Marx at first didn't know what to expect when he was dropped off at Halcandranss doorstep. He assumed that he was being sent to some sort of happy hospital facility, where they were gonna baby him and be monitored 24-7. NO FREEDOM AT ALL, HE'S JUST GONNA BE A CAGED ANIMAL!

But no Mags allowed him to do as he pleased... once he realized that he tried to pretty much annoy Magolor into kicking him out. Using his natural crass, sass, and of course, pranks to do it, however, Magolor didn't fall for any of them. Remaking at each of them describing them as "cute"...

Magolor: Nice try, but... You're not gonna to trick this trickster~

Marx: WHAT!?

Marx assumed Kirby that Magolor was another goody-two-shoes, but... did they bring him to some anti-prank master's house. He should've been angry, but he couldn't help but be impressed. It didn't take him long to stop his fruitless effort... there was nothing else to do but wait till he had a chance to escape.

Marx: "Nothing else, Just sitting and watching this guy... uh what is that you're working on... " leaving being instantly enamored and captivated with Magolor's work. Marx's interest and fascination with Ancient Technology is what drove him to use the Galactic Nova in the first place... which sparked Marx's interest and forgetting his original plans to escape.

Which led him to discover all the similarities they had... However, there was this secret unknown wall the other had up. Wanting to keep there both their "unsavory past beginnings with Kirby."

Magolor didn't want to scare Marx away especially when he was finally starting to get comfortable with him. And Marx not wanting to screw up another friendship he was starting to make, by revealing what he was. Both did not want to ruin the only good thing they had in a while.

When finally Marx recovered, Mags was just about to call Kirby and the gang, and immediately Marx pretended to still be sick. Visibly nervous when the check-in call comes in. This doesn't go unnoticed by Magolor,... so when it comes time to call up Kirby for the update, he buys him more time.

Magolor: I gotcha another week...

Marx: Wait, what...

Magolor: Listen I don't think I can get you another when the time comes so... so you think you can tell me what's going on... Kirby's a nice guy I'm sure he'll-

Marx: But I'm not-

This leads Marx to tell Mags everything about the whole "NOVA FIASCO," and Magolor is just speechless as he reveals each detail. Marx loner he spoke couldn't help but feel like he sunk in even deeper believing he blew it again...

Waiting with bated breath for Magolor to answer expecting him to respond in disgust... only with him to respond with. "Yo, same!"

Thus leading Magolor to reveal his past with the Kirby & the Master Crown, along with his road to redemption. This gives Marx a little hope, but not as much confidence that he could do what Magolor did... But Mags assures him that he's still a work in progress himself and that if he wants to be better he should give himself the chance to do better... after all the first step is always the hardest.

Needless to say, everything works out but even after the whole thing, Marx is still hanging out with Magolor... Hmmm... I wonder why! :3

Thanks again to everyone for sticking around and being patient with the asks... I know I'm taking a while to answer (and the things I promised to be done aren't... sorry, my work schedule is hectic.)

I've kinda hit a bit of a roadblock with the fanfic's art style and recently have been wanting to change it up... but anyhow I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. (So for now I'm trying to knock out a few more asks).

Hope you enjoy the content and have a great day~