Hi guys! I'm looking to trade with someone who can draw male OCs. I suck and genuinely can't for the life of me draw men :').
As stated, I can draw female OC's in bust/headshot/full body! I can only draw humans though unless you want anatomically accurate animals then I'm really good with that!
I'll take around 3 days to a week to be able to draw.(depends how busy I am!) Though, I hope you understand if I get delayed since I have work.
If you're interested, please don't hesitate to dm me!!
~||Kaveh was no longer living in his house and it was peaceful. No more scratching of pencil at 2am, continuous yapping and ridiculous requests. Even early ready served coffee was no longer there–well, ever since Kaveh left, Alhaitham has never enjoyed coffee the same way again. It was often too bitter or too creamy. He definitely should've asked Kaveh for the recipe before he left.
It was truly... Nice...?
Is Alhaitham really feeling peace or... loneliness?
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! AlhaithamxKaveh
! Word count: 2k
!Join this discord server to talk and chill ;]
The night was suffocatingly silent, the kind of silence that spoke volumes in its stillness. Alhaitham stared at the ceiling of his now-empty house, the weight of recent events pressing down on his chest like an iron vice. He remembered the last time he saw Kaveh, the determined look in his eyes as he finally left for good. Kaveh had always been a fierce and passionate spirit, his heart guiding him more than his head. It was one of the things Alhaitham admired most about him, even if it sometimes drove him crazy. He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. The blonde’s laughter, bright and infectious, echoed in his mind. He could still see his face, animated with passion as he argued about architecture or art, his eyes alight with a fire that never dimmed.
When he realizes his thoughts, he immediately sits up, wondering where it all came from. "Have I always thought about him like that?" He whispers to himself, still in disbelief at how those words were his own. It can't be, right?
In hopes to rid of these thoughts, he decides to pick up a book but the silence is deafening without Kaveh’s pencil scratching, crumbling of paper and even his cursing. Alhaitham could only close the book as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the table where his past roommate usually sat when they were talking. The grief of his absence was always there, even when he distract himself. It was like a silent companion, but he had learned to carry it with him and to let it shape him without consuming him. (Or atleast tried to)
"Okay, what the hell," he once again, talks to him in the dead of night, still confused as to why he keeps thinking about things like this. Kaveh was a friend, yes, a good one in fact but he never knew that his absence could distress him THIS much. "It is too late to regret anything now, really," acting strong and denying everything, he releases a tired sigh as he closes his eyes, finally sinking into his thoughts.
The day the architect decided to move out was expected yet inevitable. Their arguments had grown more frequent, their differences more pronounced and even the scribe had sensed the growing tension, the unspoken decision hanging in the air between them. Yet, when the moment finally came, it hit him harder than he had anticipated. The first days when Kaveh moved out, Alhaitham immersed himself in his work, hoping the routine would dull the sharp edges of his grief. Yet, every corner of the apartment held memories of Kaveh. The sight of his favorite books missing from the shelves, the empty space where his sketches and hanging paintings used to be, even the absence of his yapping—all these changes were silent reminders of the void Kaveh was leaving behind.
As cliche as it may be, it seemed like he did take out everything beautiful in his house along with him. Now this place is just... a house, to simply put it.
For now, he would carry on, maintaining his routines, immersing himself in his work. But he knew that every time he walked through the door, every time he sat at the kitchen table, the absence of Kaveh would be a silent, lingering presence.
After that night, the day progressed as they always do. He continued his work at the Akademiya, immersing himself in research and lectures, his demeanor as composed and meticulous as ever. No one could really tell what was wrong nor was he willing to show it. After all, he is the mean and indifferent scribe of the Akademiya, or at least that's the title Kaveh gave him.
One afternoon, Alhaitham suddenly found himself in the library, a place he and Kaveh had often frequented. The scent of old books and the hushed whispers of scholars provided a familiar comfort. He walked down the aisles, his fingers brushing the spines of countless volumes until he reached a secluded corner where they had often studied together. Just as the way his feet brought him to this place, he grabbed one of Kaveh's annotated books. No one really read it much because they said that it was all too complicated to understand. Opening the book, his fingers trail along the tiny drawings of instructions the architect pointed out, not even realizing that he was already smiling at the thought of Kaveh just squiggling things here at 2 am, his to say, 'peak hours,' or that's the excuse of always working during midnights.
With the book in hand, he sits down at their usual table as he continues to read through Kaveh's long-ass annotations, (he even talks too much here.) he didn't even notice that the hours already slipped by, marked only by the turning of pages. Despite that, he continued even occasionally, glancing up to the spot where Kaveh used to sit. He could almost see him there, hunched over his sketches, his brow furrowed in concentration. The memory was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost.
Alhaitham was even too immersed in reading Kaveh's works to notice four of his 'friends', (Tighnari, Cyno, Collei, and even Faruzan) whispering a few meters behind him, talking about how he has been there since the afternoon and now it's only a few minutes until midnight. They've been taking turns observing him, maybe even more concerned than curious about his behavior. They all know about Kaveh and Alhaitham's situation but knowing Alhaitham, he didn't want anyone to interfere with whatever he had planned for himself. But just for tonight, they decided to offer him a piece of advice.
And the chosen sacrifice was Tighnari who lost the game of Lots. Well, with or without the game, it was best for him to be the one out of the four to talk to Alhaitham about this.
As they conveyed their plan, Tighnari approached Althaitham and they exchanged a few words but the conversation didn't last long. It seems like the scribe only talked once and Tighnari did the rest. With a defeated sigh, Tighnari returned to the group only to say, "Well, I told him that even if Kaveh is far away now, it doesn't mean he couldn't visit him. We all have, even. But after that, he just ignored me. I think the reason why he doesn't have the guts to do so is because their relationship took a turn for the worst before it happened."
"Should we visit Kaveh for him then? Tell him about Alhaitham's actions?" Collie suggested, also worried about her friend.
But even with her sincerity, the other three shook their head, knowing that Alhaitham should visit Kaveh himself to resolve his self-quarrel about Kaveh and their relationship.
The night grew darker, and the library’s silence deepened, the four finally left to rest but Alhaitham only recently closed the book, holding it to his chest for a moment before returning it to the shelf. As he walked back to his alcove, he felt a flicker of resolve. Maybe he really should consider Tighnari's suggestion. It's already been weeks, after all. He couldn't keep Kaveh waiting anymore. A sleepless night passed and Alhaitham found himself buying a bottle of Kaveh's favorite wine, even flowers to top it off as soon as the stalls opened. He knew this was a shameless move, one where he might just as well willingly walk to his demise typa move. But who cares anymore, right?
As he walked towards where Kaveh now resided, he felt that the air was cold and heavy with the promise of rain, the sky a blanket of grey that mirrored his mood. He moved with purpose, though each step felt like it carried the weight of the world. When he finally arrived, he just sat there, the silence enveloping him. The pain was sharp and raw, a wound that refused to heal. But amidst the sorrow, there was also a sense of peace. Here, in this quiet place, he could feel Kaveh’s yapping already.
He looks down, afraid to see the sight that he's been avoiding for weeks.
“Kaveh,” he began, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come.”
The wind rustled the leaves above, a gentle, mournful sound that seemed to acknowledge his words.
“I’ve been trying to stay busy, to keep moving forward,” he continued. “But it’s hard. Everything reminds me of you. The house... our house, the library, the tavern you designed...”
He paused, his throat tightening. “I miss you. More than I thought possible. You were the heart of our home, Kaveh. Without you, it’s just a place. An empty place...”
In that moment, he realizes that the only way to realize how special someone is to you is to lose them. To be in a place where you couldn't feel their embrace, their smile, their touch... or even see them.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, worn sketchbook. It was one of Kaveh’s, filled with his drawings, ideas, and plans that could no longer be fulfilled. Alhaitham opened it, flipping through the pages, his eyes lingering on the familiar sketches, still not having the courage to look up. “I found this the other day. I thought you might like to have it here with you.”
He placed the sketchbook, the flowers, and even the wine gently in front of him, a small token of the life they shared. “You always saw the world in a way I couldn’t. Maybe that's why I always confided with you but even if our beliefs crossed, your words brought so much light and color into my life. I don’t know how to move on without you, but I’m trying.”
Alhaitham closed his eyes, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. “I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have saved you. I'm sorry that our last meeting was an argument. If I was given the chance to change everything, I would've fallen to my knees and begged you to stay. It was all my fault...I'm so...I'm so sorry. ”
He finally looks up but instead of the smile Kaveh always carried, he is faced with a marble headstone.
"Here lies the Light of Kshahrewar," One of the words eteched there. Well, he was also the light of Alhaitham's life. Now, what is this pitiful Scribe to do?
The world around him blurred, but he didn’t move. He needed this, to let the pain and the grief flow through him, to acknowledge the depth of his loss rather than fooling himself that Kaveh simply moved out. An hour or two of silence passed before Alhaitham took a deep breath, finally feeling a small measure of clarity amidst the sorrow. He stood, his fingers lingering on the headstone one last time. “I’ll keep going, Kaveh,” he said softly, still trying not to break.
"My biggest regret now is how I never got to tell you that... I love you... I love you more than life itself," he whispers as he gently presses his lips against the cold marble, regret and sorrow eating him up.
With a final lingering glance at the grave, Alhaitham turned and walked away. The path back to the cemetery gates was long, but each step felt a little lighter. The pain of Kaveh’s loss would never fully leave him, but he knew now that he could carry it, that he could move forward while still holding Kaveh’s memory close to his heart.
As he left the cemetery, the sun broke through the clouds, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape. Alhaitham looked up, feeling a small, bittersweet smile tug at his lips. In that moment, he felt Kaveh’s presence, a comforting, silent echo that would always be with him, guiding him through the days ahead.
~||After an extended confrontation tied to the remnants of Khaenri’ah and the lingering influence of the Abyss, the abyss sibling finally witnessed Dainsleif’s curse begin to break, unaware that undoing it would not restore him—but instead release him completely from existence as the abyssal corruption that sustained his immortality unraveled.
“was there a lifetime waiting for us,
in a world where I was yours?
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! A Dainsleif/Lumine (abyssal sibling) angst
! Major character death warning
! Word count: 2.4k
P.S. :
>Want me to pull out a ukelele? Join this server!
>Find me too on A03!
>Please listen and read the lyrics of; Lifetime (Reimagined) by Ben&Ben to know what I mean hehe (Dain and Lumine is a doomed ship because they're bluexyellow)
>Will post an Aether version soon!
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The wind in that place did not move the way wind should.
It did not sweep, not whisper, nor carry the scent of distant lands. It lingered heavy, unmoving, like something that had forgotten its purpose. Even the sky above seemed grim. A fractured expanse of dim light, and endless gray that neither brightened nor darkened, as if though time itself had grown tired of passing.
Lumine stood at the edge of what remained of the battlefield, her cloak not even stirring against the solemn stillness.
This land was once part of a kingdom swallowed by divine judgment has now lost the right to be called alive. Yet something here pulsed faintly, like the last, stubborn heartbeat of a dying world.
Her golden eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped forward, boots crunching softly against shattered stone and crimson covered earth. The ruins stretched endlessly, jagged silhouettes clawing toward a sky that refused to acknowledge her. The Abyss mages who had accompanied her lingered at a distance, silent, wary.
As stupid as they were, they knew better than to approach what lay ahead. They also understood that this moment… did not belong to them.
“…Dainsleif," is name left her chapped lips quietly, barely louder than a breath, yet it seemed to echo through the decaying world.
For a moment, only the faint noises of her comrades lingered. But then—a faint crackle of a voice shot up.
“…You came," It was softer than she remembered. But not weaker—no, Dainsleif had never been weak. Though, it was much quieter, as though the weight he had carried for centuries was beginning, at last, to loosen its grip.
There he stood, just beyond the fractured remnants of a collapsed archway. His figure was unchanged at a glance. The same composed posture, the same steady presence but something about him… was different... undeniable
The darkness that had once clung to him like a second skin had begun to recede. Like twilight giving way to dawn.
“You sound surprised,” Lumine said, her voice even, not wanting to show the fracture that's slowly forming upon witnessing his state.
“I am... I really am..." He replies—a broken smile dare not show as his gaze fixed on her. Lingering, hesitant and in disbelief.
She stepped closer. Each step felt heavier than it should have, as though the air itself resisted her approach. Though, she knows better not to blame the atmosphere when she was aware it was something within her, tightening, bracing against a truth she had not yet allowed herself to fully grasp.
“You're growing dim, Twilight sword,” she said.
A faint smile touched his lips, “…Have I?”
“You're barely a fragment of your former self,” Lumine continued, her gaze fixed on him. “You leave no trace. Even the Abyss struggles to follow you now.”
Dainsleif lowered his head slightly, “That was intentional.”
“I figured.”
Silence settled between them again. Though, it wasn't awkward nor distant but rather fragile—akin to a balance on the edge of something irreversible.
Lumine stopped a few paces away from him. Up close, she could see it much clearly now.
The curse that had bound him for centuries, one that twisted him into something neither fully living nor truly dead... was unraveling.
His arm, once marked by that dark, decaying, unnatural corruption, looked… clearer. Not entirely healed, but no longer consumed. The veins of abyssal energy that had once pulsed beneath his skin were dimming, their glow reduced to faint, fading embers.
And his eyes... the eyes that had witnessed the fall of a nation, the betrayal of gods, the slow erosion of time he had ever known has grown lighter but still heavy with memory. Though no longer bound by it.
“…it’s happening, isn't it?” Lumine said quietly.
Dainsleif did not deflect nor deny it. He was straight forward with the truth, "Yes"
Lumine’s hand grasped her golden sword a bit tighter though she still not dare show the crack that's slowly expanding.
“So it’s true,” she said. “The curse is breaking.”
"It's all thanks to you," Dainsleif’s gaze shifted, meeting hers fully now.
Her expression hardened. At his eyes, not wavering but clearly starting to show fragility.
He looked past her after noticing her expression—toward the distant ruins, as though searching for something among the broken remnants of a world long gone.
Lumine said nothing. Her face now blank and void of emotion.
“You have freed me from this torment,” his voice remained calm, now looking back at her.
Lumine’s chest tightened.
“Shut up,” she declares—the same tone of authority deserving of her title.
“Aren't you happy?” he asked gently.
The question caught her off guard. She wasn't surprised, no. She simply did not have a proper answer. For a moment, she was silent
Because the truth was—
She wanted him to stay
She had fought against gods. Against fate. Against the very fabric of this world. She had embraced the Abyss itself in pursuit of her goal.
But this was not war where she could command an army or slaughter every being on sight. She did not know how to fight this.
“You’re dying,” she said finally, that facade slowly slipping.
Dainsleif shook his head.
“No,” he replied.
“I am being freed.”
"...freed.
From the centuries of wandering. From the burden of remembering when all others had been lost. Freed from… everything.
“hah…That’s the same thing,” Lumine said, almost amused.
“Is it?”
Her jaw tightened.
“To me, it is.”
Dainsleif studied her for a long moment.
“…You have always been someone who defied fate.”
Lumine didn’t respond.
“You reject it's laws,” he continued. “Tear them apart, reshape them, force this world to bend to your will.”
His gaze softened, just slightly.
“It is one of the reasons you have come so far.”
“And?” she asked.
“And that is why I followed you”
The wind—or whatever existed for it—shifted faintly around them.
Lumine looked away.
“…don’t act like you had a choice.”
Dainsleif smiled faintly.
“My choice was you,” he said.
She scoffed softly, “Then choose not to accept this.”
Dainsleif did not flinch nor did he waver, “...this one isn't mine to make”
“I didn’t come all this way,” Lumine continued, “I didn’t fight, didn’t lose—” She stopped herself, her voice catching for just a fraction of a second before she forced it steady again. “I didn't twist time and destiny itself so that you'd just... leave me"
Silence followed.
Dainsleif took a step forward.
The movement was small, but it closed the distance between them just enough to make something in Lumine’s chest tighten further.
“I am not leaving you,” he said quietly.
“Then what do you call this?” she demanded, gesturing toward him. “Because it looks a lot like fleeing to me.”
Dainsleif pauses, void of an answer.
She stared at him, waiting for his response.
Though, Dainsleif’s expression did not change.
“…What it means,” he said, “to finally be allowed to rest.”
“…You’re still saying that you're going to leave everything behind.” Lumine repeated her point.
He looked at her, backed to a corner.
Lumine’s breath caught slightly.
His gaze drifted again, toward the ruins, “...my spirit will remain here.” The quiet certainty in his voice was… unsettling. Because it was final. Not doubtful.
“You won't turn into a seelie, Dain,” Lumine said sharply.
The taller blonde chuckles, amused by her response “I guess not... But I cannot carry everything forever, Lumine. Neither can you.”
Her eyes snapped back to his.
“Don’t—”
“You cannot save everyone,” he continued.
“Stop.”
“And you cannot—”
“I said stop!”
The word echoed across the empty ruins, her calm demeanor finally breaking.
For a moment, even the stillness seemed to recoil.
Lumine’s chest rose and fell sharply. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
“…you don’t get to say that,” she said, her voice low and trembling.
Dainsleif did not look away. “I do,” he said softly. “Because I have tried.”
“I have fought against fate,” he continued. “Against the gods. Against the very curse that bound me," his voice remained steady. “But there are some things that cannot be undone.”
Lumine shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Lumine.”
“I said no!”
Her voice continues to unravel.
Silence followed. It was long, heavy, and unavoidable.
Dainsleif stepped closer again. Close enough now that only a single step separated them.
“…I will always be close to you,” he said gently.
Her gaze dropped.
“…go away.”
“You are.”
“I’m not afraid of this.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“I am not being taken from you,” Dainsleif said softly. A pitiful hope to console her.
Lumine let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
“That’s exactly what this is.”
“No,” he said.
“It is not.”
“Then explain it to me,” she snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m about to lose someone else.”
Dainsleif’s expression softened further.
“…Loss implies something unfinished,” he said. "I have done what I am destined to do"
Her fingers tightening further around her sword.
“…you have not done what WE have to do” she answers lowly
The certainty in his voice cut deeper than any hesitation ever could, "We have finished all thay we needed, Lumine."
Lumine inhaled slowly. Then exhaled.
“…You’re selfish,” she said quietly.
Dainsleif blinked slightly.
“That is… not a criticism I expected from you.”
“It should be,” she replied. “You’re choosing to leave.”
“I have no choice but to accept what's happening," Dainsleif studied her for a moment. “…Would you truly have me continue like this?” he asked. “Endlessly?”
Lumine faltered.
“I—”
“Would you have me remain bound to a curse that has long outlived its purpose?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Would you have me suffer,” he continued, “simply because you are not ready to let go?”
The question landed.
And this time, she had no defense.
Because the answer, no matter how she tried to twist it…
Was yes.
Silence stretched between them.
“…I just don’t want this to be the end,” Lumine admitted.
Dainsleif’s expression softened. “It really is not,” he said.
She shook her head.
“It is.”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
He stepped closer. Closing the final distance.
“It is a continuation,” he said.
Her brows furrowed.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” he replied. “Just not in the way you are accustomed to.”
Lumine looked at him, searching his face for something—anything—that would make this easier to accept.
She found nothing. His face reeked of requiem, tranquility—something that's already gone.
“…You’re really okay with this?” she said.
Dainsleif nodded, “I am.”
“…why does it feel like I’m the only one who isn’t?”
Dainsleif’s gaze softened further, "because you still have a destiny yet to fullfil.”
She let out a shaky breath. “…I... don't want to”
“I know," he reached out then, slowly, carefully. As though giving her every chance to pull away. His hand rested lightly against hers. Warm, steady, a reminder that though barely, he was still here.
“… i believe you can,” he said quietly.
Her eyes closed, leaning onto him, throwing away every fraction of her unfeeling persona. She didn't say a word, didn't move—afraid that every little shift might cause him to drift away.
“Continue forward,” he said. “Continue fighting. That is what drives you.”
His grip tightened just slightly, “... but do not fight this.”
“…I don’t know if I can do that.”
Dainsleif smiled faintly, “you can.”
“…How do you know?”
“Because you have endured far worse.”
She let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“…That’s not reassuring.”
“It is not meant to be,” he replied.
Another pause.
“…It is meant to be true.”
The faint glow along his arm dimmed further.
Lumine noticed immediately. Her once stoned grip on her sword was immediately released to hold the warmth on her face.
“…It’s happening faster,” she said.
“Yes.”
“…Dainsleif.”
“Yes?”
“…Don’t go yet.”
The words were quiet. Barely more than a whisper. But they carried everything she had been holding back.
Dainsleif’s expression softened in a way she had never seen before, “…I am still here,” he said gently.
Her chest tightened, eyes remained closed—not willing to witness such a sight.
The glow faded further.
His solid form, though still present seemed lighter somehow. Less anchored. And even without seeing, she could feel it. The warmth, her aid, slowly weeping away. As though the world itself was beginning to release him.
Lumine stepped closer, their foreheads nearly touching now.
“I hate that you’re okay with it.”
He smiled faintly, “…that one is… understandable.”
A shaky breath escaped her, “…what am I supposed to do after this?”
Dainsleif was silent for a moment. “I told you, continue your journey. You still have ways to go,” he said
Her eyes tightened, asmall, broken laugh escaped her. “… you really aren’t scared?” she said.
Dainsleif shook his head ever so gently, afraid to break whatever connection they have right now, “No.”
“…You’re leaving me.”
“Again, I am not leaving you,” he said gently.
“I am simply… going ahead.”
Her eyes finally opened, tears blurred her vision.
The light faded further. His hand, still holding hers, felt… lighter.
Lumine’s grip tightened.
“…Dainsleif.”
“Yes?”
Her tears fell freely now, unable to utter another word.
His form began to blur at the edges gently, like mist dissolving into air.
“…Dainsleif—”
His voice remained calm, steady, certain, “…Lumine.”
“…Yes?” her voice barely above a whisper with her sobs
A pause.
Then—
Before Lumine could react, a faint warmth touched her lips. She wanted to return it—wanted to tell her how she felt too but as she leaned in, there was nothing left to hold. The light faded. His presence vanished.
And the wind, at last moved ever so faintly as if it was guiding a soul back home.
Lumine stood alone. The ruins stretched endlessly before her. The sky remained unchanged. But something fundamental had shifted.
Her hand trembled slightly as she lowered it, reaching for her sword as if to fill the gap from Dain's absence.
“…I love you,” she whispered. The word echoed softly only to fade—just like him.
She kept those words behind her teeth, thinking there would be time. Another day, another quiet moment where she could finally say out loud without the world on her shoulders. But time closed its hand too quickly. Now, not even the words linger.
Context: Zuko has been away for weeks because of his duty. You tried being an understanding wife but your patience had it's limits especially because you were both living under the same roof yet you've seen the comet more than his face lately so you went to the room he was staying at to confront him about it.
P.S. writing requests are open!
Zuko was in a terrible mood before the sun had even set. By the time he stormed out of the last meeting, his patience was already burned to ash.
Another advisor had questioned his judgment. Another general had pushed for aggressive action. Another noble had demanded something trivial as if it mattered more than the stability of the entire nation. The voices piled up, overlapping, suffocating. Each one expecting him to have the perfect answer, the perfect control. And it made him irritable. Sharp. Ready to snap at anything and anyone that moved.
A servant bowed as he passed
“Move,” the word came out harsher than intended, but he didn’t take it back.
Zuko kept walking, boots striking the floor harder than necessary, jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands curled into fists at his sides, heat prickling under his skin like his firebending wanted an excuse to lash out.
He hated being Fire Lord when it meant losing himself piece by piece. By the time he reached his chambers, all he wanted was silence but as the door opened, he could already feel that the night was far from over.
Standing by the balcony, arms crossed, the night air brushing through her hair. Waiting.
Zuko exhaled slowly, already feeling something shift from irritation to something more complicated. “Why are you here?”
A sharp, humorless chuckle escapes her lips. “Am I not allowed to share a bed with my husband?”
He shut the door a little too hard. “I’ve had a long day—”
“So have I.”
Her voice cut clean through whatever patience he had left.
“Except mine didn’t include ignoring my husband.”
Zuko’s temper flared instantly. “You know I never intended to do that.”
“Of course you didn't.” she turned to face him, voice raised, all the pent up emotions finally exploding right then and there, “You don’t eat with me, you don't sleep in our bed—you avoid me like I'm sort of a plauge!"
“I’m running a nation!” he snapped, frustration finally breaking loose. “Everything depends on me—”
“And what about US?” Her voice cracked as she interrupt his statement. She understood all of that, sure but how long will she turn a blind eye to his negligence.
“Do we just… wait until you remember we exist?”
The anger didn’t leave him. It shifted. Twisted into something heavier.
Zuko dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once like a caged animal. “You think I want this? You think I enjoy being pulled apart every day?”
“Then why does it feel like I’m the easiest thing for you to let go of?”
The room went quiet, tension thick enough to choke on. He stopped pacing, staring at her like he didn’t know whether to argue or apologize.
The silence only gave her room to let out her anger more, "Aang manages to take care of Katara and he's ruling THE WORLD. Before all of your glory, you promi—"
Before she could continue, his hand caught her waist, pushing her against the wall and silencing her with a deepened and forceful kiss.
She shoved at his chest. “LET GO OF ME. I AM NO—" yet again, she was cut off by the same tactic.
The kiss was rough, heated—weeks of distance, frustration, and unspoken longing spilling out all at once. She resisted for barely a heartbeat before giving in—grabbing onto him just as fiercely, fingers clutching his robes like she couldn’t decide whether to push him away or pull him closer.
Maybe both.
His hands found the ribbon behind her dress, grounding himself in something real, something his. Her fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to make him inhale sharply against her lips.
“You don’t get to just—kiss me and fix everything,” she murmured, breath unsteady.
“Just shut up."
Zuko's voice was still angry, clearly still agitated and before she could mutter another comeback, he fell down to his knees, burying himself under her loosened dress and began his feast.
"Z-zuko..." She moans out, her hand covering her mouth in fears of giving in while the other held onto a near table, trying to keep her balance.
"S...stop...ahh..." Her words barely audible as he began to indulge deeper... harder than before. His tounge exploring her folds as if he'd never tasted her before.
It didn't take long before she gave in—reaching her climax. Her long moan echoing throughout the room loud enough for any unfortunate passerby that may wander through the halls.
Knowing that she was satisfied, he got up again, holding her back and grounding her—afraid that she might fall down with those shaking legs of her.
"Don't you—" yet again, he didn't let her finish. He went in for another kiss, letting her taste herself as he finally loosened her dress enough for it to simply trail down her body.
“You’re.... still an idiot,” she muttered. Breath barely there yet her anger clearly present.
Zuko let out a quiet breath yet he didn't speak. He simply took off his clothes, standing bare infront of her—still pressed against the wall
"I won't say things that I might regret," he whispers against her ear, his breath hot as if steam was coming out of it. Before she could react, the Firelord bit down her neck, earning him a broken moan which he was satisfied with.
She tries to push him again, trying to remember his faults despite her clear enjoyment of the moment, "...this isn't how you redeem your honor"
He sighs heavily, brushing his hair back ck before his hand yet again found his way around her waist—not rough, but firm—and the next second, her back was raised against the wall. Zuko caged her in, one hand braced her hips, the other still holding her waist. Heat radiated off him, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in the way that actually felt good.
"Then tell me exactly how I can redeem my honor, my darling..." The Firelord whispers with that same growl, patience growing thin.
She could feel him in between her legs—hardened, throbbing and definitely ready to devour her yet she still refused to give in. After all, he did break his promise of never leaving her alone.
"Just... let me go." She was still breathless yet her tone as demanding as it could be. It irretated Zuko even more yet for some reason, it also turned him on.
The already irretable Firelord couldn't hold it in a second longer and finally snapped—he inserted all of himself without warning, giving her a loud gasp. Being angry as he is, he didn't give her a moment to breath before continuing roughly. His pace was erratic—uncontrolled. It was as if he was making up for lost times.
Her back slid in rhythm to Zuko's thrusts. And so did her moans. Everytime he hit her walls, she screamed out his name in pleasure while digging her nails on her back—deep enough to leave a scar and for everyone to see during his training.
It didn't take long for her to yet again reach her limit, shouting his name with broken curses as she did so. But even after her climax, Zuko's pace never dimmed. Instead, he went faster knowing that she was now heavily sensitive.
His wife tried to mutter words out of defiance but with her husband being persistent as he is, she could only moan out her feelings which gave him a sense of satisfaction.
Soon enough, Zuko was reaching his end too and he made sure she knew about it. His grip tightened around her, his breathing strained and becoming hotter against her skin and most notably, he went deeper in—wanting to secure that none of his heirs spill out.
As he hit her sweet spot, he finally released himself while biting her neck, making sure that it would remain for at least a week.
"F...fuck...you..." She mutters weakly, collapsing against the man's broad shoulders as small droplets of cum escaped through her.
"Still not done? Hah... neither am I."
Without even respite, he made her bend against the table she was holding onto before, ready to fuck the anger out of his beloved wife until she was satisfied.
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