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quillpunk: screenshot of Judith (she's blushing to a flowering, rosy background) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (judith2)
[personal profile] quillpunk
Fandom: Bleach
Characters/Relationships: Grimmjow/Urahara Kisuke
Category: M/M
Rating: Teen
Additional Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Developing Relationship
Wordcount: 5092
Chapters: 1/1
Status: Complete
Published: 2023-10-19
Archived on: AO3, SQWA

Summary: In which Grimmjow somehow utterly misses the fact that he’s doing a time-travel fix-it. It’s cool, though. Kisuke can pick up the slack.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, and make no money off this.

Author's Note: rarepair time XD

Fic )
quillpunk: screenshot of Luca (making a disgusted, scheming expression) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (luca1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Relationships: Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay
Category: M/M
Rating: Teen
Additional Tags: AU - Canon Divergence
Wordcount: 1635
Chapters: 1/1
Status: Complete
Published: 2023-10-22
Archived on: AO3, SQWA

Summary: "I would offer my help," Ronon says, voice gruff and head tilted. "If I thought it'd be accepted."

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis and am making no money off this.

Author's Note: it's been too long since i last watched SGA. i should fix that :D also realized in the middle of writing this i'm not actually sure who's taller than who in SGA, but decided to just roll with it, lol

Fic )
quillpunk: literally nothing. something went wrong and now it's literally nothing. (thingy)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Tight-rope (Manga)
  • Relationship: Oohara Ryuunosuke/Satoya Naoki
  • Characters: Oohara Ryuunosuke, Satoya Naoki
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1314
  • Published on AO3: 2023-05-24

Notes: For Small Fandom Fest 33, Prompt: Tight-Rope (manga/OVA), Ryuunosuke/Naoki, the members of the Oohara group/assorted yakuza having a quiet (or not) delighted, relieved party when Naoki agrees (demands) to stay with Ryuunosuke ('the next boss' impulse control swore an oath to stay forever! WOO!')

Disclaimer: I do not own Tight-rope or any associated trademarks.


Because Ryuunosuke is actually fairly predictable, he clings onto Naoki as they walk through the hallway, resting nearly his whole weight on Naoki's shoulders. Naoki, with the grace of somebody who's long since gotten used to things exactly like this, continues to walk on entirely uninterrupted. The crew of about fifty people discreetly following them step-by-step observe their every move, whispering between each other while Naoki ignores everything they say. This, too, he is fairly used to.

To put it kindly, they're not very subtle.

Naoki supposes that it makes sense; Ryuunosuke is a product of his upbringing, after all, and he must have gotten his utter lack of shame and inability to hide his feelings from somewhere. They're a lot alike, in that way—Ryuunosuke's feeling are just as loud as his dozens of 'brothers'.

As they turn a corner, there's a stampede behind them, followed by the sounds of multiple people falling on the floor and getting crushed beneath the weight of their compatriots. Naoki pinches the bridge of his nose for the briefest of seconds, his veneer of apathy momentarily breaking. Ryuunosuke tries to kiss his cheek, as they've stopped moving, and Naoki plants his hand on Ryuu's face and pushes him back. "Naoooo~" Ryuu whines in his ear, and when Naoki deigns to give him a spare moments attention, Ryuu lights up like a Christmas tree.

Naoki sighs again. "Not now," he says as somebody snaps a photo, the sound loud in the hallway, which is then followed by multiple people swearing and shushing each other. Naoki's eyebrow twitches and Ryuu blushes while giving the guys behind them a thumbs up.

They walk off again, and every single person they pass literally throws themselves out of their paths. Naoki has developed a pretty substantial eye-twitch by the time they reach a room that could be described as a common room. It's a hangout place, more than anything, and for once it's entirely devoid of people. Naoki glances at every nook and cranny but there really is nobody here and it's odd enough he murmurs, "Where is everybody, do you think?" to Ryuu.

Ryuu hums, hugging him tightly. They sit plastered together because Ryuu is still full of emotions and Naoki has learned which battles are worth fighting. "Naooo~" Ryuu lies down with his head on Naoki's lap, and Naoki brushes his fingers through the soft strands of hair. Ryuu's eyes shut, hie expression smoothing out into something resembling peace and against his wishes Naoki's heart skips a beat. It's really rather unfair, he thinks, how handsome Ryuu is. Even when he's blushing like a schoolgirl, when he's in the middle of a fight, when he's furious or when he's filled with so much joy he's bursting at the seams, he's always handsome. Unbearably so.

Sometimes, Naoki can hardly stand looking at him.

Somebody tries to sneak into the room while they're distracted, crawling along the floor until they get to a long line of cupboards along one of the walls. Naoki whistles, even though he objectively isn't any good it, to overpower the noises behind him so he can pretend that nothing is happening. His eyebrow twitches when something hits the floor, a clattering noise ringing out through the room and disturbing Ryuu's rest. Naoki closes Ryuu's eyes with his free hand, then pinches Ryuu's cheek just because he can. Ryuu pouts, but he's handsome even then so Naoki doesn't let go.

When the other noises in the room stop and the door has been shut again, Naoki exhales. He looks down at his... Ryuu. He looks down at his Ryuu and watches the eyelashes trembling, the long shadows they cast over Ryuu's cheeks, the gentle light washing over him from above. Gazes at the pink lips for a disconcertingly long moment, the movement of the eyelashes, eyes the hair falling over Ryuu's forehead.

"Nao?" Ryuu opens his eyes, gazing up at him, expression so open and trusting that Naoki aches. Down to his bones, reaching into his lungs, and he can't help but lean down and press a soft kiss to Ryuu's lips. He feels Ryuu's smile, a large hand land on his nape and pull him down further, tilting his head until the kiss is distinctly dirtier than Naoki had intended. In cold-blooded revenge, he thusly pinches Ryuu's side.

"Meanie!" Ryuu ends the kiss and pouts at him, bottom lip jutting out. It shouldn't be adorable, damn it.

Naoki says, "We should find your brothers before they do something stupid."

Ryuu rolls his eyes, pout diminishing when Naoki isn't paying him single-minded attention. "I guess," he drawls, eyebrows furrowing. But he tellingly doesn't move a muscle to get up, so Naoki rolls his eyes and pinches Ryuu's side again. This time, Ryuu does actually get up—amidst much grumbling.

"They're just throwing a party," Ryuu mutters as they head out, Naoki holding out his hand. Ryuu grins, then, grabbing it and squeezing it so tightly his bones scrape together. Naoki hides his grimace and continue to lead the way. He doesn't need to guess where the party is; there's a designated party room for all celebrations and, as expected, there's a guard on the look out who straightens when he spots them coming. He runs up to them. "Godaime!" he calls, trying to stand in their way to stall their progress.

Ryuu completely ignores him, pushing him out of the way. Naoki waves at him behind Ryuu's back, but the guy follows them all the way to the entrance. The preparations are almost done, Naoki notes. The banners are up, the alcohol is out, the cookies and cakes have been placed on a long table.

One of the guys hanging up the last banner—CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MARRIAGE—spots them and falls off the ladder, pointing at them like they're ghosts. It is, in Naoki's humble opinion, a rather severe overreaction.

"Son," Ryuu's father pops out of nowhere, putting a hand on Ryuu's shoulder. "I'm proud of you," he says, voice grave.

"Thanks," Ryuu chirps and walks off, dragging Naoki along to the cakes. Naoki tries to bow to Ryuu's dad as he goes but it's a little difficult and admittedly he doesn't try very hard. He spots his uncle while Ryuu's feeding him red velvet cake, and his uncle gives him a teary thumbs up. Naoki stares at him with the most expressionless face he can muster but sadly his uncle actually knows him and so all he does is pull out a professional-grade camera and start snapping pictures. Naoki ignores it after a moment, attention caught by Ryuu's hand as he gets another piece of cake on the sparkling spoon.

There's movement around them and for a moment he's entirely too distracted by Ryuu to pay it any attention whatsoever, but on the third bite of cake he finally tears his gaze off Ryuu and looks at the crowd. He recognizes every single person; he's know most of them for years. There's always someone in the background when he's with Ryuu and it's only recently that they've distanced themselves more when they're in public.

"Congratulations!" someone calls, the voice lost in the cacophony of cheers around them, about four cameras recording their every move. Ryuu's father is standing by Naoki's uncle, talking quietly while Ryuu's mother hovers in the background, a glowing smile on her pretty face. Naoki even spots his mother trying to sneak into the room—and utterly failing as multiple people greet her and show off the pictures they've taken, proud smiles all around. Somebody sets off party poppers, and someone else turns on deafeningly loud music, disco ball mysteriously appearing on the ceiling.

In the end, Naoki supposes that he brought this upon himself—he is the one that drank the wine first.

And it's a bond stronger than marriage, after all.

quillpunk: screenshot of Luca (making a disgusted, scheming expression) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (luca1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Naruto (Anime/Manga)
  • Relationship: Hatake Sakumo/Orochimaru, Orochimaru & Original Characters
  • Characters: Orochimaru, Sarutobi Hiruzen, Original Characters, ANBU Root
  • Additional Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Accidental Power Acquisition, Accidental Orochimary Redemption, Implied/Referenced Human Experimentation
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 3863
  • Published on AO3: 2017-11-27

Notes: One of the first things I posted on AO3 XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any associated trademarks.


It began kind of like this:

Takahashi Yu was five years old when his parents died. Soon after, he was left at Konoha's orphanage, just one of dozens of children whose parents had been lost to war. His parents had both been tokubetsu jounin, good enough at their chosen specialties to be sent to the frontline, but not good enough to survive. They were both from civilian families and Yu had no-one once they were gone. At five years old, it seemed like the end of the world.

Once he was six, he started at the shinobi academy together with almost all of the other orphans his age. He didn't excel and he didn't particularly stand out, being painfully average in almost everything. Everything but genjutsu, that is.

It seemed that he'd inherited his mother's talent with it.

He was nine when he graduated from the academy just slightly above average, never able to succeed enough to truly stand out.

He was never given a team.

By the time he was ten, Takahashi Yu had ceased to exist. Instead there was 104, a shinobi working for Root who had already started taking assassination missions.

(Except it didn't start like that.)

No, maybe it was more like this:

At eight years old, Shun was already a veteran of Root. It was where he grew up, everything he knew. He could make his way through the base blindfolded (had done so before actually) and knew every single rule that was to be followed like the back of his hand. Lately though, lately, he'd found himself starting to doubt them. He'd gotten a roommate.

Jun was two years younger then him, a girl and had just completed her training.

She was bright-eyed and had a sense of innocence about her that confused him. She listened to every word he said like he was her superior and followed behind his every step. She liked flowers because they reminded her of her mother—who was sick in the hospital and Shun found himself wondering what exactly a mother did—and she had two younger brothers who both idolized her as well as a father that was a retired jounin. She'd joined Root because Danzo-sama promised he would pay for her mother's treatment.

She died exactly three years, two months and five days after she became his roommate on her ninth mission when she protected her teammate instead of retreating.

Suddenly, their (his) room was terribly empty. Suddenly, he couldn't look at Danzo-sama when he gave his reports anymore. Suddenly, he found himself carefully observing the shinobi whose life she'd saved, for the first time in years feeling anger when it didn't seem to have mattered to them. Suddenly, he got a weird feeling in his chest whenever he saw the new recruits. Suddenly, things were different.

Shun met Orochimaru of the Sannin for the first time at age thirteen.

(No, no, this isn't it either. Rewind a bit more and perhaps... yes, something like this.)

Kira was a civilian before she was recruited for Root.

She grew up in the red lights district, her mother dead by the time she was four from disease and her father unknown. She had no siblings or close friends, no-one that would miss her should she suddenly go missing and was young enough that she could still be shaped into something useful, even if she was to old to be accepted at the academy for ninjas. All of this made her ideal and she was twelve when she moved into the base below the Hokage mountain.

She didn't leave it for eighteen months.

When she finally did, it was without a name, just a number, a katana in her hand and a mission that she could not fail.

She failed.

Failed, failed, failed.

(It was such an ugly word, how had she never realized that before?)

She returned to the base without the scroll she had been sent to retrieve, bloodied and sore and filled with a fear she had been taught not to acknowledge. There was a limp when she walked, a hitch in her breath that pointed towards broken ribs and somewhere along the way, she'd lost her katana.

She reported her failure to Danzo-sama, of course she did, and it was the first time she didn't resent him, when he told her that he still had a use for her.

Four days later, healed but for the bruises, she reported to her new superior in a smaller base and watched with a detached sort of curiosity as Orochimaru—of the Sannin and even she had heard of him and his legendary team—cut someone open on a metal table, pulled them apart and put them back together again.

She was fifteen when she once again became Kira.

(Hmm... better, but not good enough. How about this?)

Matsumoto Naoki was painfully shy, even at eleven.

He never looked anyone in the eyes, was never within touching distance and his looks were generic, brown hair, tanned skin and grey eyes. His genin team didn't know what to make of him and their teacher didn't have the time to solve anything personal as they were scouts. Both his parents were still alive and in good health.

Naoki was of no special interest to anyone, much less Shimura Danzo.

Then he returned three weeks late from a standard mission that had devolved into a good old-fashioned ambush by Iwa, dragging the dead body of his jounin sensei behind him.

Interrogation by T&I revealed that he had a passive Bloodline Limit, one that kept anything that effected the mind from working on him. The team of Iwa shinobi that had killed his team had used ninjutsu to make them fight amongst themselves and in the end, their sensei had killed himself to keep from hurting his students. It hadn't helped, Naoki's teammates were still dead and their bodies in possession of Iwa.

Within a month, his parents were dead and he had been relocated to Root's base. All knowledge of his Bloodline Limit had been erased and Naoki had been left with Orochimaru for the purpose of figuring out if his Kekkei Genkai could be transferred to fellow Konoha Shinobi.

(Closer, closer, closer. Now turn it this way.)

There was a lump in his throat every time he tried to swallow.

Hotaru—formerly Yuki, formerly Nai, formerly Mikoto—was five months into his infiltration mission of Yugakure when he was recalled. There hadn't been anything of interest to report, Yugakure was still in the process of turning into a tourist spot, still trying to leave the ninja stuff behind them to the disgust of its shinobi. The only logical reason for him to be recalled was a new mission or his disposal. He didn't think he'd outlived his usefulness, but then again, he couldn't follow the way Danzo-sama thought. At twenty years old, he knew that knowing to much of Root was dangerous business because it meant you became a liability and he'd worked hard to never interact with his comrades enough to know anything sensitive.

Still, there was the lingering thought that he'd done something wrong, heard something he wasn't supposed to and now he would be gotten rid of.

Nonetheless, he made his way to the facility marked on the map he'd been given, determined to follow whatever order he got.

Once there, he was let in by a Root member and shown to a large open room in which there were many many containers with people in a faintly glowing green liquid just floating inside, all of them different ages, but most of them younger then him. Not a sound escaped him as he memorized everything he saw, certain that this would be part of his mission. He didn't try to deny what he saw, didn't feel any need to free them, didn't start planning to spill this secret to the Hokage.

It was a mission and it didn't matter how immoral a normal shinobi of Konoha would call it.

Hotaru was a part of Root, had been for over a decade. He'd done his fair share of assassination missions though his specialty was infiltration and sabotage if the situation demanded it. He lost whatever shred of morality he still had when he killed his only friend in Root on Danzo-sama's order.

After several long minutes of waiting, the door he had entered through was opened once again, this time letting in a girl younger than him but with the hardness to her that everyone in Root, regardless of age, shared. She took in everything about him, from his long black hair to his nondescript kimono and blue eyes. Her gaze laid on his chest for just a second, clearly wondering on his gender, but like any Root shinobi, not considering it anything of importance. His last two missions had both been spent playing a girl and perhaps he'd gotten just a little too into character, as he hadn't left his nice (but still practical, the was important) clothes behind for his uniform like he should have.

The girl didn't waste any time.

"You have been relocated to Orochimaru-sama's command. Your new mission is to travel the Elemental Countries in search of young people with potential, no-one over the age of seventeen. Once found, you are to either kidnap them and bring them here forcefully, or convince them to come on their own violation. Preferably those with Bloodline Limits, but it is not a must. Make sure they have no-one too interested in them that could start asking questions. If they are a shinobi or not, as well as age, gender and nationality are of no importance. Do you understand?"

"Understood." Hotaru stated emotionlessly.

(Yes, yes, yes, just a little more.)

Itou Reiko was one week into her training as a member of Root when she was transferred from the Base to a facility at the outskirts of Konohagakure no Sato.

At twelve years old, she was a late graduate of the shinobi academy from a minor shinobi clan. Her clan, as small as they were, had survived the various wars on their specific style of Kenjutsu and she was no different. She was excellent at her clan techniques, having practiced them since she had learned how to walk, but average at everything else. Root was a chance to make her family proud.

Her last chance.

The facility she was transferred to was smaller than the base, but still far bigger then she would expect under a village. It was made up of winding hallways and large open rooms. The shinobi that showed her the way (Shun, the only ninja of Root that hadn't looked at her funny when she asked for their name) pointed out the different locations and made it clear that she was to practice with the shinobi in the base until she was at an acceptable level, at which point she'd be assigned to guard duty together with him.

She was to report directly to Orochimaru—and only Orochimaru—and keep everything she witnessed or heard strictly secret. Failure to do so would result in her being transferred out and relocated for additional training. And after the hell her first week had been, that wasn't something she looked forward to.

Finally, she was shown to the study in which Orochimaru-sama was.

Orochimaru wasn't like she'd pictured him. After all the stories her parents and peers had told her, she'd expected greasy hair, pale yellowing skin and creepy demonic eyes. What she saw was a woman or man wearing a grey yukata, with graceful black hair twisted into a bun at the back of the head, beautiful golden eyes and pretty pale skin. There was nothing monstrous about him and she wondered how her comrades could have gotten it so wrong.

(Now go back to the beginning and try again.)

Orochimaru was twenty-six, almost thirty, when he was finally entirely alone in his village. His team was gone, scattered to the wind and his sensei could barely bear to look at him anymore. The villagers, both shinobi and civilians alike, avoided him and hurried out of his way.

There was a hole in his chest where his heart should be.

Danzo pushed all of the right buttons.

Within a week, he was presented with a facility he controlled, with state of the art labs and the best equipment available. Test subjects followed within another.

Subordinates followed after.

Orochimaru was used to being feared and despised for his actions and lack of reactions. He was used to being looked on as something unknown, something dangerous. He was used to being discarded as human, underestimated because he looked beautiful rather than handsome. He was used to being pushed aside, left behind and forgotten. It was bewildering, the way these subordinates didn't.

They didn't give him any looks of contempt, of suspicion. There were no whispering words behind his back, no blunt words of dislike and distrust to his face. No withering looks or refusal to obey orders simply because he was the one giving them.

It was the first time in his life that anyone had ever respected him.

Even when the experiments failed, some in truly gruesome ways, they never turned away from him. They did their duty, handed him the tools he asked for, disposed of the bodies as he instructed, and never once did their facial expressions betray them. There was no disgust in their eyes as they looked at him work, no sympathy for the test subjects, no reactions at all. They did their jobs and they did them well.

Orochimaru was stunned by it.

He found himself remembering their names and what they looked like. He helped them train once in a while, when he had nothing else to do. Even Naoki, shy sweet Naoki, was treated with a gentleness he had never afforded his experiments before. It wasn't so much that he had changed, because he was just as cruel as he always had been on the battlefield, just as merciless, just as hard to understand by normal people. But the members of Root could never be classified as normal. They were just as broken, just as wrong, as he was. It made him connect with them in a way he never had with anyone before.

He was selfish and cruel and no-one in their right mind would ever accept him for who he was. Making connections (tentative ones) with like-minded people was something everyone strove to do, and something he had never been able to. He was possessive of what he considered his and that was what his subordinates were. His. His to mold, his to train, his to kill.

Orochimaru found himself gradually starting to relax as Hotaru dropped off both recruits and budding test subjects, he got used to the way Kira was always following him around, keeping careful note of everything he did. Yu, constantly hiding in shadows and darkness, only ever emerging when one of the subjects managed to get loose and killing them.

Life wasn't perfect—Sensei still couldn't look at him and his suspicion mounted every day—but it was as good as it was ever going to get. From time to time, a Root member was transferred in or out and Orochimaru sometimes visited the main base, because when this was all discovered (they lived in a shinobi village, of course it was going to be discovered) Orochimaru was going to bring as many people down with him as possibly he could.

It probably wasn't a good life or even a halfway-decent one, but it was all Orochimaru was ever going to get. He just didn't expect that Root members had a tendency to get... attached.

(Good, good, but that's not all. Try and see the bigger picture.)

Root was a collection of emotionally traumatized people who were conditioned to be loyal to Danzo over the village. The missions they ran both helped and ruined things for Konoha, every action they took bringing them closer to war. They were loyal, they were killers and they were shadows. The only purpose they had was Danzo-sama's orders.

But Danzo didn't practice what he preached.

They were to be emotionless soldiers that could only kill, but Danzo never once attempted to rid himself of his own emotions. They were to be perfect beings that prioritized the village and mission above all else, but Danzo disregarded the Hokage's words as that of a fool's and never listened. Moreover, Danzo didn't pay them much attention once they'd finished their training. He picked favorites and killed off those that he deemed threats, but otherwise he barely even looked at them.

He was arrogant and a warmonger and maybe he was a good shinobi, but he wasn't very good at loyalty. Much less loyalty to the army he had built and then proceeded to discard.

Root members were taught to stand in the shadows and observe, never to let anyone know they were there. Naturally, they knew the value of information. Orochimaru was an unknown variable, one that would be the superior of some and the target of others. It was only natural for them to learn everything about him.

In the process, they discovered something more.

It wasn't that they were suddenly less loyal to Danzo-sama or that they doubted their cause. It wasn't that they had thoughts of spilling secrets to the village proper. It was that Orochimaru was a good teacher and he was less than normal and made no excuses. He knew he was dangerous and didn't bother to pretend he wasn't like Danzo-sama. When a few of them gathered up the resolve to ask him questions, they got honest answer and when he helped them train, they always improved. In the end, he was everything Danzo-sama had wanted them to be, emotionless and willing to do whatever was necessary for Konoha.

So they observed him, watched him, noted down how he acted and studied his every move. They found flaws and perfections and things that didn't make any sense, like they way he was treated by the villagers—and shinobi—he protected. The shift wasn't instantaneous nor fast and it didn't really change things. It was just that Orochimaru was like them in a way Danzo-sama wasn't and that... changed things.

Root members were to stay in the shadows. They were conditioned to be loyal to Danzo before the village, but Danzo never returned the favor. But Orochimaru was loyal and a genius with a brilliant mind that had nothing against helping them train. Orochimaru listened to what they said and had nothing against it when they claimed names of their own.

In the end, something had to break.

(Ah, we're almost there.)

It began kind of like this:

Orochimaru was an outcast in his own village, one he had sworn to protect in an era fraught with wars and dangers. He was lured (not really) by Danzo to become a member of Root, where he would be allowed to do whatever experiments he wanted, as long as they were for the good of Konoha. His team had left him behind a long time ago and he had nothing left to hold onto. Root members were fragile in the most unexpected of ways and as the months and eventual years passed with Orochimaru in their midst, they shifted and changed and became something more.

It was Orochimaru they went to when they had problems, when they needed help and it was his ideals (as twisted as they were) that they adopted. And in the end, something had to break.

They were to sabotage a mission run by Hatake Sakumo, one of the best jounin's of Konoha and spread malicious rumors about him when he failed it. It would break him and as close to war as they were, that wasn't something Konoha could get away with unscathed. It was a problem they had never encountered before. Loyalty to Danzo was supposed to be before all, but they had learned loyalty to Konoha's best from Orochimaru. They settled it like they did all problems they had.

They asked Orochimaru.

Distracted as he was by the experiments he was running (he'd succeeded with transplanting the Mokuton on a boy Kira called Tenzo) Orochimaru wasn't listening to what they were saying. He heard Hatake and loyalty and problem and sabotage and in the end, all he mumbled about in response was, "Talk to the Hokage."

It was a course of action they never would have taken on their own.

In the end, something had to break.

(And so came the last page.)

In the middle of the briefing for Hatake Sakumo's next mission in the Hokage's office, the room was invaded by three ANBU members wearing masks the Hokage didn't recognize.

Instead of attacking, they took off their masks. What followed was an explanation of the mission given to them by Danzo-sama and Sarutobi found himself frozen in his seat as he was confronted by his old teammates actions. He'd suspected, but to think it was true... it pointed to a horrifying image. After the explanation was finished and Sarutobi had asked all the questions he immediately wanted to, he put out his pipe, leaned back on his chair and asked them, "Why tell me this now? I assume this is against Danzo's orders."

They looked at him as if they did not understand the question. The one in the middle, a girl that couldn't be older then fifteen, answered, "Because Orochimaru-sama told us to."

(Think of it as an epilogue.)

It ended kind of like this:

Orochimaru was summoned to the Hokage's office on his way home and when he arrived, it was to the presence of a grim faced Sarutobi Hiruzen and a Hatake Sakumo that somehow had something like relief and gratefulness in his eyes. After that, there were many meetings and interrogations and questions that he answered to the best of his ability while painting Danzo in the worst possible light he could, because he could be petty as well.

The fact that Sarutobi-sensei didn't stop him told him exactly how angry he was.

While Shimura Danzo was detained and later executed, Orochimaru was presented with a new office in the Hokage tower, bewildered and unable to understand what was happening. Root members were being questioned left and right and went from struggling to cooperating at an approving look from Orochimaru and Sarutobi just ended up more convinced that he'd failed his student and didn't know him at all.

Two weeks later, the door to Orochimaru's new office was blown wide open as a beaming Hatake bounced through the doorway, dragging behind him a tiny miniature with flyaway silver hair.

With another grin and a tug at a small resisting hand, Hatake Sakumo opened his mouth and demanded, with his eyes crinkled in delight, "Come to dinner with us. I need to thank you for preventing my mission to fail disastrously and Kakashi is a big fan of yours."

In the end, something had to break.

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Bleach (Anime/Manga)
  • Relationship: Urahara Kisuke/Kurosaki Ichigo
  • Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo
  • Additional Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Non-Linear Narrative, Dorks in Love, Accidental Relationship, Didn't Know They Were Dating
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 3574
  • Published on AO3: 2020-05-27

Notes: For UraIchi Week 2020 Day 5 — Accidental Dating

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any associated trademarks.


(The kiss was soft. Ichigo closed his eyes and felt the warmth on his lips. He breathed in through his nose and his hands gripped Kisuke's hair and hip. Slowly, the kiss turned even softer and chaster, until they were just standing still. Leaning back, Ichigo scowled at Kisuke, "You almost made me drop my cup."

"I caught it," Kisuke murmured back. Kisuke pressed his face into Ichigo's neck and breathed out. The gust of air made Ichigo shiver and he let out a quiet breath of laughter.

"Next time, give me a warning," Ichigo mumbled back.

"Oh, so there'll be a next time?" Kisuke pressed his lips to Ichigo's neck and bit down gently. Ichigo smiled, and didn't answer.

There was no need to.)

The sound of soft music filled the air. Ichigo blinked when he stepped through the door to the Shoten, a furrow to his brow as he looked around curiously. There was nobody in the front half of the store, and Ichigo softly moved through, surprised to find that he recognized the music. A song his mother had loved, one that she had played on repeat so many times that he could still hum along. When he reached the door to the rest of the house, he toed off his shoes and switched to the indoor ones he had left behind a while ago. He couldn't remember when, but it didn't matter.

Slowly he moved toward the source of the music. He stepped lightly on the floorboards, his finger trailing along the walls as nostalgia gripped him. He could almost see his mother dancing, twirling around in front of him, a happy smile on her face.

Blinking, he twisted around the corner, stepping into the light of the kitchen.

"Ichigo-kun!" Kisuke smiled up at him and rose from his seat by the table. "What do you think?" he asked, pointing to the... thing on the table.

Ururu smiled cautiously at Ichigo from the other side, a spoon in her hands half-way up to her mouth. Ichigo smiled back at her and stepped forward, settling himself down next to Kisuke by the table. "It looks poisonous."

"Wha—? How could you, after I put in all that effort to make it from scratch, just to celebrate your birthday?!" Kisuke dramatically swiped away fake tears from his cheeks and sniffled exaggeratedly.

Ichigo shrugged and gripped the cake-knife. He carefully took a piece of the cake, figuring that it couldn't possibly be any worse than Inoue's creations. They hadn't killed him yet, so he doubted this would. Besides, Kisuke wouldn't serve it to the kids if it weren't safe.

He put his plate with his piece of cake down in front of him on the table and picked up a spoon. Sniffing it, he took a bite and ate it, heedless of the funny faces Ururu was making at him.

It wasn't as bad as he had feared.

He hummed, "Good."

Then he ate another piece and ignored Kisuke wailing next to him about not letting him prepare enough. Ichigo let it go in one ear and out the other, grateful that he didn't have to spend his first birthday since losing his powers alone. It was bad enough on a normal day, his father exhaustingly focused on not mentioning anything having to do with shinigami and tiptoeing around him. Karin, running off to train at every chance and his friends all leaving him behind.

With the spoon in his mouth, he watched as Kisuke rose to his feet and barreled out of the kitchen. He looked, confused, at Ururu and she simply stared guilelessly back at him. Rising an eyebrow, Ichigo pulled out the spoon and drank a deep gulp of tea, grimacing at the sticky taste it left in his mouth.

"Did he make this?" Ichigo asked Ururu.

She shyly nodded.

Ichigo took another sip of tea, needing something to wash the dry cake down his throat with. "Where are the others? I didn't see them coming in," he remarked and looked around the kitchen again, as if they would magically appear.

"There's a Hollow," Ururu squeaked out and sank back in her seat, trying to make herself smaller.

Ichigo looked down at the table and carefully put the plate and spoon down. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ignoring the voice at the back of his mind that insisted he was being left behind. Battling Hollows had nothing to do with him now, now that he had no powers to do so with. But he couldn't' shake the feeling if only someone tried, he could be useful. He had fought so many of them, so many powerful ones, surely that knowledge would be useful to somebody.

But nobody had ever asked.

He opened his eyes again and did his best to smile kindly at Ururu, even though he thought it probably went badly, and said, "I hope they're safe."

He could hear the sound of Kisuke's footsteps coming back toward the kitchen. Ichigo sat up straight and picked up the cake again, cutting a careful piece with his spoon and shoving it back into his mouth just as Kisuke rounded the corner into the kitchen. Kisuke stood still for a moment, his eyes drifting over the whole room, before he focused on Ichigo and skipped over, sitting down right next to him and holding out a gift-wrapped present.

"Here!" Kisuke waved it in front of Ichigo's face and Ichigo popped the spoon out of his mouth.

He grabbed the gift and murmured, "Thank you."

Then he put it down on the table and sipped his tea again.

Ichigo ignored the way that Kisuke almost immediately started to pout and sulk, his body slumping down next to Ichigo and leaning over to get a piece of cake for himself. He ignored the way that Ururu stared at them, as if there was some great puzzle she was trying to solve. He ignored the warmth and the touch that he had found himself getting increasingly used to since the disaster that was that last fight against Aizen.

Instead he finished eating his cake and not until after he had drunk the last of the tea did he finally pick up the present again. He turned it over in his hands, shaking it softly to see if he could hear any loose bits.

It was small, about the size of his palm, the square box hard in his grip. The bright neon pink wrapping paper and the golden bow sitting on the top of the box were both crooked and scratched, obviously not wrapped by a store employee. Ichigo turned it over again in his grip and pretended as if Kisuke wasn't staring at him in anticipation of his reaction. He gently took off the bow that had simply been glued to the paper and put it down on the table, careful not to damage it. Then he started unwrapping the box.

When he finally managed to untangle the four layers of paper the box was entangled in, Ichigo was left with a simple, classy black box about the hight of an inch. He pulled the lid off and stared down at the gift.

It was a necklace. A simple silver chain, with no additions of any kind.

Carefully, Ichigo pulled it out and held it up in the air in front of him. It wasn't very long, he doubted that it would hang very far. It was thin, the chain hardly weighing anything at all. Ichigo moved it over in his hands until his fingers touched upon the clasp, and then he pulled it open. He knew how these things worked, his sisters had never gone to their father with issues like this.

Pulling the chain around his neck, he clasped it back together behind his head.

"Thank you," he said and smiled at Kisuke.

("Did you know?" Kisuke asked one evening. Ichigo looked over at him, the stars and the moon shining down on them where they sat on the porch, their legs dangling over the edge.

"Know what?"

"That you would lose your powers."

Ichigo looked back up at the sky, the stars twinkling back at him. He took a deep breath, the scent of fresh air surrounding him, before he looked back at Kisuke. Kisuke, who's hat shadowed his face so that Ichigo couldn't see his eyes. Kisuke, who had a harsh grip on his fan in his lap. Kisuke, whose body was angled away from Ichigo.

"...It doesn't matter.")

His friends never talked to him anymore. They were too busy, they had Hollows to fight. They had people to protect. He understood, but it itched at him, that he was one of those people who depended on their protection. It hurt, that they could leave him behind so easily. His family never spoke about anything that had happened and after the third time his father ran away yelling "lalalala!" when he tried to broach the subject, Ichigo stopped talking about it too.

The only one who was still there, who hadn't walked away from him, was Kisuke and to a lesser extent, the other's at the Urahara Shoten. But it was Kisuke that Ichigo spent time with, when the absence of his powers and zanpakutou and even his Hollow was just too much.

It was Kisuke that Ichigo went to, when he couldn't sleep because of his nightmares.

When he felt like he couldn't breathe.

When he was unable to focus on anything.

It was Kisuke who was there for him, when Ichigo needed someone to lean on.

Therefore, when Kisuke wanted to go to the cinema and watch a shitty Hollywood movie that even from the trailer wasn't very good... Ichigo went with him. Kisuke paid for the tickets and Ichigo took care of the snacks, and then they entered the theater together. The lights were still on when they entered so they quickly found their seats and settled down in the middle of the room.

The lights dimmed not long after they sat down and Ichigo scooted around in his seat until he sat comfortably. He had a bucket of popcorn in his right hand and a coke in the other. By his left side sat Kisuke who was busy crunching on his own popcorn. As the lights dimmed even further again, the large screen (projector?) turned on and commercials started running. While they waited for the actual movie to start, Ichigo fished out his phone and made sure his sisters knew where he was in case they needed him.

They wouldn't, but it made him feel better.

His hand squeezed around the phone before he slowly relaxed it again and carefully turned it off. He put it back in his pocket and leaned back on his chair again.

"Problem?" Kisuke asked, only to immediately start sucking on his own straw.

Ichigo frowned. "No..."

Ichigo popped a popcorn into his mouth and bit down on it, hearing it crunch loudly. His eyes stayed on the front of the room as the logos of the movie's makers appeared on screen and he forced his mind to focus on it. It was fine. His sisters were growing up, this was a good thing. They would be able to protect themselves.

That was all he wanted. For them to be safe.

The movie started and the title flashed on screen. Ichigo resolved that he was being petty and he should feel happy for them. He wasn't going to think about it anymore.

"Oooh, I love this director," Kisuke mumbled around his straw, and when Ichigo glanced over, he saw his eyes were big with delight. His hat was on his lap instead of on his hat and Ichigo couldn't stop himself from taking another look. It was such a rare thing to see. It was almost a shock and Ichigo's eyes strayed over Kisuke's face, from his floppy hair to his straight nose to his lips down to his stubble.

Ichigo's eyes stayed there a moment too long before the loud sound of someone talking made him shift his attention to the screen again. The camera was focused on a crying dark-haired woman and Ichigo wondered what had happened to lead up to that point.

Belatedly, he answered Kisuke, "I've never seen anything by this director before."

"Mou, Ichigo-kun, that's just sad."

He could feel the warmth of Kisuke's body against his arm as Kisuke leaned closer to him and pressed their arms together. Ichigo pretended as if he didn't notice, as if he didn't know why Kisuke would do that — Kisuke played at being touchy-feely, but he never actually got close to anyone. Ichigo guessed that it must be an attempt to comfort him, just like going to the theater was.

But that didn't meant that Ichigo was going to deny the comfort and ease that Kisuke brought with him every time that they met. When he wasn't getting paid to participate in club's, Ichigo spent most of his time at the Shoten, content to just be in Kisuke's presence.

They rarely did anything more complicated than playing cards together — going to the cinema was an anomaly — but it was that simplicity that Ichigo craved so much.

After everything that had gone down with Aizen, everything that had happened both before and after, he needed to do normal things. More importantly, he needed to do normal things with a person that didn't flat out deny that those abnormal things had happened and was a reality. Kisuke left him alone when Ichigo came over, and they only talked about it when Ichigo brought it up, but they did talk about. And slowly, as more time passed and he got more used to Kisuke's presence, they had started to talk about it more. About Ulquiorra and Starrk and Grimmjow.

Kisuke listened. And Ichigo was self-aware to realize that he needed that.

Somebody who listened to him.

On the screen, someone ran desperately after a car. Ichigo was once again lost on how they reached this point, but he paid attention anyway. By his side, Kisuke let out a muffled laugh when the car chaser fell down. Ichigo's lips twitched into a small smile and he pressed his arm back slightly at Kisuke's.

("Have you ever wished upon a shooting star?" Kisuke asked out of the blue. They were playing a round of Go Fish in the early morning. Ichigo had woken up an hour ago from nightmares, unable to go back to sleep, and he had been joined shortly thereafter by Kisuke. He didn't know if this meant that Kisuke had woken up in order to keep him company of if Kisuke had already been awake, but regardless, he appreciated the company.

The sun had just risen over the horizon, they had seen it reach in through the kitchen window, and the silence of the new morning was calming. Ichigo pretended like he didn't notice the way that Kisuke periodically looked over him, as if to make sure he was okay and wasn't about to have a breakdown.

Ichigo had already had his breakdown.

"Yeah," he answered. "Why?"

"Nothing. Just wondered." Kisuke responded. Then he grinned cheekily at Ichigo and said, "Sixes?"

"...Here.")

It was a beautiful day for a picnic. The sun was shining, birds were chirping and the grass was green. Ururu and Jinta were both delighted to be out of the store, running around the park like it was going to disappear any minute now. Tessai sat stoically on the picnic blanket next to the basket half-full of food, reading a romance novel. Kisuke was in the middle of playing a game on his phone while Ichigo sat back with his back against a tree, resting with his eyes closed.

He could hear Tessai turn the pages of his book, the laughter of children, the sound of Kisuke swearing as his character died in the game yet again. Ichigo kept his eyes shut, the warmth of the sunlight unmistakeable on his skin. A leaf fell on his hand and he curled it around it, his fingers gently feeling along the edges of it. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the half-crushed red leaf in his palm. He frowned and let it go. It drifted gently with the wind, curling around in the air and settling on a root of the tree he was leaning against. Ichigo sighed and directed his gaze to Kisuke, watching his hands frantically moving over the phone.

"Almost, almost, almost, almost—" Kisuke kept repeating. "I've almost got—I'm dead."

Kisuke put the phone down on his lap and looked down on it, a pout on his lips he would probably deny till his death. Ichigo couldn't quite contain his amusement and he turned his face away so that Kisuke wouldn't see him laughing at him. Ichigo would never hear the end of it.

Ururu ran after Jinta with a broom after his football hit her in the head, and Jinta was running away screaming. The other people at the park either looked at them as if they were an eyesore for disturbing the peace, or indulgently because they were kids. Ichigo watched them run around the playground, across the sandbox and over a collection of rocks. He titled his head back so the sunlight drifted over his face, closing his eyes. The shadow of the tree moved over the ground as the sun rose higher.

Heeling the warmth of it on his skin, he listened to the sound of Kisuke moving. He felt Kisuke settle down next to him on his right side, leaning against the wide trunk of the tree next to him. Ichigo opened his eyes and saw Kisuke leaning back his head, his hat sitting over half his face, shadowing it.

After thinking it over for a scant few seconds, Ichigo scooted over the ground, until he was sitting right next to Kisuke. Their sides were touching and the contact of another person—moreover, a person that he liked—made something hot burn in his stomach. He shifted until he leaned his whole weight on Kisuke instead of the tree, and felt an answering arm weave over his shoulders and hug him tightly. Ichigo felt Kisuke breathing under him, an action that was simulated by the gigai. Nonetheless, it was comforting.

Kisuke was here with him.

Kisuke was alive.

It didn't shame him to admit that a lot of his nightmares consisted of things that hadn't happened. Fear superimposed on his memories, the sight of Kisuke or his sisters disintegrating like Ulquiorra had. Aizen managing what he had promised, Ichigo failing to save anyone at all. He knew it wasn't true, but in his dreams, it felt so real. And the loss of his zanpakuto, of his Hollow, didn't help. When he woke in the night from a nightmare, he always felt so alone.

But right now, Kisuke was right next to him. Right now, he wasn't alone.

Ichigo fell asleep like that.

By the time that he awoke, the sun was on its way down. Ichigo blinked up and rustled Kisuke as he slowly sat up. Kisuke removed his arms around him and helped Ichigo sit up. Cracking his neck, aching stretched his body, finding it stiff and uncomfortable. When he looked up at the sky, he saw that dark clouds had started to move. It was only a matter of time before a storm came.

Ichigo climbed to his feet and Kisuke rose as well. Together they started walking in the direction of the Shoten. "Where is everyone?" Ichigo asked when he saw no sign of their presence.

"They went back almost two hours ago," Kisuke answered.

Ichigo scowled. They exited the park and walked along the sidewalks towards the Shoten. With the clouds covering the sky, the sun was impossible to see. Nonetheless, it was warm out, the middle of summer. They stepped leisurely over the road to the other side of the street, turning a corner for a shortcut with less people.

Kisuke walked at a slow pace, and Ichigo slowed down to match it. Glancing over, he saw that Kisuke was staring at him, and he abruptly turned his head away. He scowled on reflex.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"You," Kisuke answered easily. He smiled a small, gentle smile at Ichigo and Ichgio quirked his lips slightly in response. This too, was a reflex at this point.

When they got back to the Shoten, Ururu was outside sweeping. Ichigo smiled at her when they passed, Kisuke leading the way inside. Stepping out of his shoes, he followed Kisuke inside. The familiar scent of the Shot an made him involuntarily relax, so used was he to it.

Kisuke waved him in further and like always, Ichigo followed.

(It was raining. Ichigo was sitting by the river, a flower held loosely in his hand. He tilted his head back and got a face full of water as a reward. By his side, Kisuke shifted and finally offered, "...You could leave the country. If you need to get away."

"No," Ichigo snapped. "I'm not leaving my sisters."

I'm not leaving you, went unsaid.

He felt Kisuke's hand curl around his own, the one not holding a flower. Ichigo squeezed it, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold of the rainwater.)

quillpunk: screenshot of langa from SK8, with a joyful expression (langa7)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, AU - Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Character Study, AU - Canon Divergence
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 4000
  • Published on AO3: 2020-07-11

Notes: This was supposed to be PWP. That did not pan out :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Staring up at Zuko’s face, twisted in pain and self-hatred, Kuei felt something in his chest go cold. He lowered the hands that were on the way toward Zuko and instead, he tried his best to smile. ”You don’t really believe that, do you?” he asked, but even as he did so, he knew the truth.

Zuko was a bad liar. And Kuei had spent far too much time studying him not to pick up on his tells.

Feeling the coldness spreading, he rose from his seat on the bed and took a step closer toward Zuko. Zuko didn’t flinch, but from the look on his face, Kuei thought that it might have been better if he had.

He knew. He knew that this wasn’t Zuko had wanted. That this wasn’t something that Zuko ever would have chosen for himself. He knew that he was not enough, that he wasn’t worthy, that he wasn’t what Zuko deserved. But this was the answer he and his court had been working on, ever since the Avatar broke the news of the war to Kuei and allowed no-one to forget about it. Zuko didn’t want to be here, but Kuei had hoped…

Well, he’d hoped for a lot things, once.

He stopped. Took a breath and tried to smile again. He held out a hand toward Zuko and said, ”I am honored to have married you.”

”Don’t lie,” Zuko snapped out. He took a step away from Kuei almost instantly, only to immediately step forward again. Kuei saw how Zuko squared his shoulders, straightened his back and pressed his jaw tightly shut. The young man stalked over to Kuei and stared him straight in the eyes.

Kuei swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth, keeping his eyes from straying to the best of his ability. Still, he couldn’t quite stop them from peeking at the scar on Zuko’s face.

He saw the moment when Zuko realized what he was looking at. Zuko’s face shuttered, and before Kuei could say anything—what, he didn’t know—Zuko had already shut him out. Kuei lowered his gaze to the floor, his hands clenching tightly by his sides, and the words were out before he could stop himself: ”We don’t have to do this.”

”Yes, we do,” Zuko sneered out, his scar stretching with the motion.

Kuei itched to touch it. He wanted to know what it felt like. But Zuko bristled every time that Kuei even looked at it, and Kuei was not so insensitive as to force touch on a place it was not wanted.

But in some cases, even he had no options.

”My father wants proof,” Zuko ruthlessly acknowledged what Kuei had been consciously not thinking about, ”that we’ve consummated our marriage.”

Kuei’s hand wandered up to his braid, his fingers intwining with the end of his hair. He gulped, his eyes flickering to the wall behind Zuko, a sense of unfairness having settled over him. It was petty, he decided. It was petty of him to feel like this. This was obviously not something that Zuko wanted in any way, yet Kuei found himself hurt to be so easily disregarded.

Pettiness. That was what it was. This desire in him, to be wanted.

He sat back down on the soft bed. The sheets were made of silk, the green a comforting color to Kuei, but undoubtedly just another reminder of what was happening for Zuko. The mattress was so soft that it should be illegal, moulding to his weight expertly. The many, many pillows were scattered all over the bed. The only thing that lit up the room were a smattering of candles on the bedside tables and torches on the walls. The shadows stretched far across their wedding chambers.

Zuko stared at Kuei, his face lined with determination, his gold eyes hard and unforgiving. It felt like they could see right through Kuei, every nook and cranny naked on display for the younger man. Kuei’s hand fiddled with the fabric over his lap, the edges of his sweeping sleeves and the robes he was wearing. He was the first one to break eye-contact, his gaze moving down to his feet resting bare on the carpet. He wiggled his toes a little.

The dull thud of clothes hitting the ground made him look up again. Zuko was in the middle of pulling off his outer layers. ”Wait—” Kuei’s throat closed up around the other words.

With the outer layers gone, he could see Zuko’s muscular form more clearly. As Kuei watched, entranced, Zuko picked up the clothes from the floor and folded them before putting them on the table along one of the walls. Then his pale hands moved to the top of his head and removed the headpiece attached to the topknot. Zuko pulled the topknot apart at the same time as he removed the headpiece.

Kuei licked his lips as the long hair fell over Zuko’s shoulders. But even while Kuei watched, unable to make his eyes look in any other direction, Zuko continued to disrobe. Until finally, he was standing there in only his underwear.

”Well,” Zuko said when he turned around and faced Kuei again, ”Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

Kuei stood up on his feet at once. Guiltily, he stared down at the floor while he mechanically pulled off his clothes, one layer at a time. When he was down to his underwear, he picked up the clothes he had been piling up on the bed and moved toward the table where Zuko had placed his. Once he had carefully placed them on the table, he took a deep breath and turned to look at Zuko.

Zuko, who was in the middle of climbing onto the bed.

Kuei felt his heart stutter to a stop in his chest for a terrifying moment before his ability to breathe returned to him. When it did, he forced himself to take shuddering breath and walked back over to the bed, stopping before it and swaying on his feet.

For all the lectures that he had been given on how male-on-male sex worked, nobody had actually told him how one began. Was he just supposed to climb onto the bed and what, attack Zuko?

Zuko had settled himself onto the middle of the bed, surrounded by a virtual army of pillows, his knees folded under him, and was sitting with his back straight while Kuei had his moment of severe doubt. Inching his feet toward the bed slowly, Kuei sat down on the edge as soon as he was close enough and moved his body so that he was crawling forward. The bed was easily three meters wide, a size that he had never before seen, but he was now grateful for. Kuei bit down on his lip and removed his glasses, putting them gently down on the bedside table.

”Ehm…” he sat down on his hunches and wrung his hands on his lap. The completely unimpressed look that Zuko gave him made Kuei hunch in on himself involuntarily. The silence was so all-encompassing that he found it impossible to say anything.

It was suffocating.

Finally, it was Zuko that made the first move.

Zuko’s warm hand settled on Kuei’s thigh, below the edge of his underwear. For a second, his mind was blank and all he could do was stare at that pale hand. It was scorching against his bare skin, and Kuei stared down at it. He didn’t take a breath until his lungs constructed so tightly in his chest that it was painful. Then, his eyes rose back up and he examined Zuko’s face.

Zuko was frowning. His eyes were staring down at his own hand, and his lips were dragged downward in an expression Kuei didn’t know how to decipher. But he knew one thing.

They were married.

The ceremony had been distinctly Earth Kingdom in nature, a blow he suspected had done more damage to Zuko than perhaps any other thing tonight, but it had been legally binding in both the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. As of four hours ago, Kuei and Zuko were married.

And Fire Lord Ozai expected to see proof of their consummation in the morning. Something that he had gone out of his way to mention first in the aftermath of the wedding, when they were in the middle of celebrations. And as soon as he had, Zuko had stiffened by Kuei’s side, his hands clenching so hard that Kuei was surprised that he hadn’t pierced his skin.

It was petty of Kuei. That he made Zuko be the one to take the first step. That he forced Zuko, through his own inaction, to be the one to move toward him.

Taking a steadying breath, Kuei dropped one of his hands to rest on Zuko’s where it still laid, unmoving, on Kuei’s leg. He would not force Zuko to be the one taking the first step. He would not force Zuko to reach out to him.

Kuei leaned his upper body forward, and he kissed Zuko.

Chastely, it was a simple peck on the lips. Shortly, he moved his head back a handful of centimeters and stared breathlessly at Zuko’s face. He saw Zuko’s eyelids flutter, his mouth pulling taunt only to relax again. His heart thumped so loudly in his ears that Kuei thought he would go deaf, yet the sound of his own breaths were overwhelming.

He saw the muscles in Zuko’s neck flex, and he knew the instant when Zuko had made up his mind. Kuei curled his hand around Zuko’s, entwining their fingers together and squeezing his hand gently. His other hand he rose up to Zuko’s face, and waited until Zuko nodded before he touched.

Kuei’s hand drifted in the air along the edges of Zuko’s face, his fingers skimming the dark hair hanging loosely around it, and when he finally settled his hand on Zuko’s cheek, it felt like lightning was racing up his arm.

He swallowed a lump of air and scooted a little closer to Zuko. Under his hand, Zuko’s skin was warm, and so soft that Kuei had to take a moment to just acknowledge what he was doing. He was about to have sex with Zuko. Zuko, former Crown Prince of the Fire Nation and Kuei’s new husband. Kuei was about to consummate his marriage, about to be able to proudly claim that he was the husband of the most beautiful man in the world.

Trailing his thumb under Zuko’s eye, his hand cupping Zuko’s cheek, Kuei felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Without noticing it, he leaned even closer to Zuko, his breath ghosting over Zuko’s skin. He felt, in his heart, a heaviness that made it hard to breathe, a pressure on his chest that had him feeling like he was suffocating. He forced himself to drag in a ragged breath, his body shaking as the hand on Zuko’s cheek wandered higher, pulling Zuko’s hair behind his ear and drifting shortly across his neck. Kuei’s eyes followed the motion of his hand, powerless to stop himself from shifting forward.

Gently, he pressed his mouth against that smooth cheek. He felt Zuko shiver against him, and Kuei closed his eyes, staying like that for a breathtaking moment.

”Tell me if I hurt you,” he pleaded against the skin.

Zuko twitched. He moved his head back until their eyes met, gold facing green, and then Zuko nodded. He looked away first, his hand squeezing Kuei’s so hard that Kuei feared his blood wouldn’t be able to reach his fingers. Kuei’s other hand danced along the contours of Zuko’s head, his fingers sweeping through the fine hair.

”I’ll be gentle,” Kuei promised, like this was something that he had done before. Like he knew what gentle meant in this context.

Zuko nodded once, a hacking motion that made his hair sway, and Kuei could no longer stop himself. He moved forward, his hand moving to the back of Zuko’s head, and pressed their lips against each other.

The softness was what made his breath catch in his throat. The warmth was what made him sigh into it. He tilted his head to the side so that their noses didn’t clash, even as he pressed his mouth harder against Zuko’s. Kuei breathed in through his nose, a harsh breath that made his chest shudder, and his fingers clenched down on Zuko’s hair.

On his lap, Zuko’s hand hugged Kuei’s tightly.

For a minute, Kuei simply pressed their lips together. He got lost in the sensation, the warmth that was building in his chest, the butterflies bursting to life in his stomach. He pulled in another ragged, hacking breath, and squeezed Zuko’s hand in return.

Angling Zuko’s head for a more comfortable position, Kuei lifted the hand attached to Zuko’s, feeling Zuko startle against him. Kuei broke the kiss to nuzzle his nose against Zuko’s, mumbling, ”It’s okay,” under his breath. Zuko’s hand spasmed in his grip before he slowly let go, and Kuei settled the now free hand against Zuko’s hip.

He felt Zuko’s hand settle on his shoulder, and the warmth of it shot straight to his stomach. There was no way that he would be able to go back now, back to a life where he didn’t have this.

The hand on Zuko’s hip moved slowly across Zuko’s back, until Kuei had his hand squarely on Zuko’s back, pressed against his spine. He gently dragged the hand over the warm skin while he kissed Zuko harder, trying to distract him from what was about to happen. His fingers trailed along the spine, and Zuko shivered against him; Kuei could feel the goosebumps at the bottom of his back. His other hand massaged the back of Zuko’s head, and Kuei did his best to ease Zuko’s obvious tension. He had been told repeatedly that the more relaxed one was, the less painful it would be.

Releasing Zuko’s lips, Kuei moved his head back slightly, and faced with those half-lidded golden eyes, his lips quirked and he asked, ”Alright?”

Zuko nodded. Kuei was pleased to notice that it was not an as abrupt movement as earlier. Kuei’s smile grew and he leaned forward to press their lips together again, this time gathering his courage and deepening the kiss.

When his tongue swept over Zuko’s lip, he could swear that he stopped breathing. when Zuko let Kuei’s tongue into his mouth, Kuei wasn’t even sure he was alive anymore. But it was fine. If he died kissing Zuko, that was perfectly fine. His eyes slipped closed, and a low groan slipped from him. The embarrassment didn’t last long though, not when his tongue was met with Zuko’s.

Actually, Kuei pulled his tongue back. He broke the kiss and this time he was gratified to see that Zuko’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. Kuei hugged Zuko tighter, moved his legs so that they splayed out on both sides of Zuko.

Zuko’s face was distressingly open. It was not expressionless like it had been all through their ceremony, it was not that hard look like he had been wearing during the celebrations. Kuei licked his lips, and felt his face heat up when he encounter the saliva he was sure was not his. His chest heaved and he was startled to realize he felt winded.

”Is this okay?” he asked again. He had to know. He needed to be sure that this was not… that he was not a monster, that this was not a nightmare to Zuko. He needed to ensure that Zuko knew that Kuei would stop, if he asked. If Zuko truly didn’t want him. Suddenly, it was of the gravest matter, that Zuko know this. Kuei babbled out, ”I don’t care what Ozai said, I’m sure there are ways to fake this. We don’t need to do this.”

For a heart-stopping moment, Zuko didn’t say anything. He opened his eyes and he stared straight at Kuei, meeting his eyes and holding steady. Then he shook his head, once, a small movement that Kuei almost didn’t catch. ”No,” Zuko said, his voice so lacking in emotion Kuei wondered if he was even here. ”It will be seen as an insult, if we don’t do it. A lack of respect. That you don’t take the treaty seriously.”

”But—”

”No.” Zuko shook his head again. He frowned, and his hand on Kuei’s shoulder squeezed painfully tight.

Kuei lowered his gaze to Zuko’s knees. He felt his braid swinging with the motion before it laid still over it his back. He said, ”It doesn’t have to be you, though. I could do it.”

Zuko’s hand spasmed on his Kuei’s shoulder, and Kuei looked up again. Zuko had a look of focus, concentration, on his face. He was staring straight at Kuei, looking for something in his expression. Kuei didn’t know what, but he stayed still and let Zuko look. Eventually, Zuko hook his head and said, ”It’s fine.”

It was very obviously not.

Kuei frowned and he shifted his hand so that it was cupping Zuko’s smooth cheek again. His other hand let go of Zuko’s back to rise to Zuko’s other cheek, the one scarred so heavily that Kuei almost flinched when he first saw it. It was unbelievable to him, that Zuko would be allowed to be hurt like this, very clearly damaged by fire to such an extent that the scarring reached from his eye and down his cheek, back over his ear and along his neck. It looked painful. He wondered, again, if Zuko could see out of that eye.

”It’s not fine,” Kuei insisted. He knew that it wasn’t. Why they were dancing around the fact was suddenly lost to him. It was important, that Zuko knew that he had a choice. He could say no. ”You don’t want this,” Kuei said.

Zuko opened his mouth, about to say something, but Kuei was not interested in hearing more empty platitudes. ”Don’t lie to me,” Kuei said, his hands resting on Zuko’s face lightly. He eyed them, and continued, ”You don’t want this. But you feel like you have to. You think your father will break the treaty if you don’t. You think the treaty depends on this.”

Kuei leaned forward, and nuzzled his nose against his Zuko’s neck, breathing in that scent of firewood and smoke that always followed the younger man. ”It doesn’t,” Kuei whispered against the skin. ”The Earth Kingdom is not that weak. And your father is not that powerful.”

He felt it, when Zuko sagged against him. He felt Zuko’s hands curl around his back and squeeze tightly. He felt Zuko’s head press against his hair, Kuei’s hands slipping over Zuko’s shoulders with the motion. He felt Zuko’s chest shudder with the force of his breaths, saw the all the torches and candlelights’ flames spark in the same rhythm. He felt Zuko’s nails digging into his back and he could hear the sound of his pulse in his throat.

Again, Kuei whispered, ”We don’t have to do this.”

Zuko pulled in a ragged breath and shook his head, messing up Kuei’s hair in the process. ”But my father—”

”Is going to have a talk with me, first thing tomorrow,” Kuei interrupted.

Zuko’s hands relaxed and he leaned back. Obediently, Kuei let go of Zuko as well and moved a little, giving Zuko the space he desired. Zuko was frowning, more heavily than Kuei had ever seen him do before. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth bent downward and he was looking at the duvet like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Kuei rearranged his legs so that he was sitting crosslegged. He waited for Zuko to say something, to make a decision. This was not something that he could choose for him. Still, his hands clenched in his lap and he licked his lips, vividly remembering what it was like, kissing Zuko.

Kuei was a petty man. Even now, he hoped that Zuko would choose—would let Kuei have sex with him, let him consummate their marriage.

He wanted it. He wanted Zuko.

But he would not do that to him.

He counted minutes passing before Zuko said something again. When he did, Kuei had almost fallen into a meditative trance, and he started.

”If…” Zuko licked his lips and squared his shoulders, his gold eyes staring straight at Kuei. ”If we do not… would it… really not affect the treaty?”

”No,” Kuei said and shook his head.

”Then… if I don’t…” Zuko scowled, his hands moving on his lap like he was looking for a weapon.

Kuei knew what he meant. He shook his head, ”If we don’t, it will not hurt anything. If you don’t want to, we simply won’t. We’re still married.” He ducked his head, but he couldn’t be dishonest about this. ”I would like to. But if you never want to, that’s okay. I would never force you.”

”Kissing you was… not horrible,” Zuko said and Kuei’s head snapped up.

A trembling smile spread on Kuei’s lips and he bent his head down, staring at his naked lap. He held out his hand toward Zuko, determinedly not looking up at him. After a heart-stopping moment, Zuko placed his hand in Kuei’s and Kuei—felt something in him relax. He gripped Zuko’s hand tightly, bending his head forward and pressing their hands against his forehead.

”Thank you,” Kuei mumbled. He took another steadying breath and continued, ”If I ever hurt you, tell me?”

”Yeah,” Zuko muttered.

Kuei brought their hands down and sat up straight again. He spent a minute just staring at the younger man sitting across from him. His pale skin, his well-developed muscles, his golden eyes… Kuei couldn’t believe that he had married this perfect man.

In the days leading up to the wedding, he had done all the research that he could on Fire Nation marriages, on Zuko as a person, on what would be expected of him. But the time from the signing of the treaty to the actually wedding had gone by surpassingly fast and he was sure that he hadn’t managed to learn all that he should have. Doubtlessly he didn’t know enough about the Fire Nation or its inner workings. And he didn’t know enough about Zuko to truly say that he loved him either, though he suspected that he was close.

He reluctantly let go of Zuko’s warm hand and crawled to the top of the bed. There, he had to throw about twenty pillows off the bed in order to find the top of the covers and start pulling them down.

”It’s been a long and trying day,” Kuei said. He tried to smile reassuringly at Zuko. ”Why don’t we go to sleep and deal with the rest of this in the morning?”

Zuko’s eyes were like flames in the candlelight; glittering gold and shining with an inner light. Kuei thought he had never seen a gem or jewel able to rival them in beauty.

Zuko shrugged. He moved up to the top of the bed and clambered beneath the covers in quick movements. Kuei looked at him, laying under the sheets and staring intently at the ceiling. When Kuei rolled under the covers as well, Zuko showed no reaction at all.

With his heart in his throat, Kuei placed his arm in the space between them and held his hand out. He waited patiently for Zuko to either reject or accept his offer.

Just when he was on the verge of falling asleep, he felt a hand curl around his own. Warm, with callouses that Kuei associated with swordsmanship, and Kuei selfishly hoped that he wouldn’t let go. He curled his fingers around Zuko’s hand, and felt hope blossom to life in his chest.

Kuei fell asleep with a smile.

quillpunk: digital portrait sketch of an imaginary guy who might or might not (not) be me (Default)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
  • Relationship: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Yuri Plisetsky
  • Characters: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Yuri Plisetsky
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Character Study, Established Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 607
  • Published on AO3: 2020-10-16

Notes: For RandomJJDay on a YOI discord server I don't remember the name of.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


It's not even really that complicated. Truly, in hindsight, JJ can pinpoint about fifty different reasons why it all went the way it did. None of them are earth-shaking ones, and none of them are nearly as scandalous as the press seems to think. It was just... a combination of a million little things.

Sometimes, it's the little cracks that make the house fall down.

But it's not complicated, no matter what anyone else says. His marriage fell apart — that's all anyone really needs to know. It fell apart because he didn't compromise enough, because Bella made too many compromises, because they didn't talk about things — the things that truly mattered. It fell apart, and they got divorced, and then the world found out.

So yes, in hindsight, he knows where things started going wrong. He can just about put his finger on it and point it out whenever anyone is insensitive enough to ask.

Not that he tells them, because it's not any of their business and he's not going to do that to Bella.

But he knows why. And he's trying not to make the same mistakes again.

Yuri turns over on the bed next to him, his eyes fluttering like he's on the edge of waking up. JJ's eyes follow along the edge of his eyes down the line of his nose, past his soft mouth, and down to the length of his neck and the marks that he placed there. Yuri is going to be furious in the morning. He'll sulk and be petty and won't talk to JJ for an hour — but he'll say what he thinks and won't shy away from his unhappiness in fear of making JJ unhappy.

JJ isn't going to make the same mistakes again, because he likes to think that he can learn from them. He knows that sometimes it doesn't seem like it, and he knows the media is currently having the time of their lives; dissecting his every interaction with Yuri and trying to find out when things progressed to a romantic relationship. He knows that the accusations of cheating and other horrible things will only get worse — and he knows Yuri isn't going to run away. Yuri will claw and tear and frown and glare and make full use of his status to lord their relationship over the media's head.

Yuri will let him hold his hand in public, and he won't mind when JJ wants to kiss in front of the cameras, because Yuri has always liked to flaunt the things he's proud of. And it always makes JJ's heartbeat speed up in his chest, when he remembers that Yuri is happy with their relationship.

Bella wasn't, in the end. Neither of them were.

JJ can't explain and he isn't going to try to. He's not going to talk about the quiet nights when Yuri just sits with him on the couch and they make fun of crappy movies. He's not going to talk about the many times their dates are simply them going out and getting coffee and taking a walk together. Yuri wouldn't want him to and JJ wants to keep something of theirs to themselves.

He won't make the same mistakes.

Yuri turns on the bed again. The covers slip down further over him. It doesn't take a lot of work for JJ to grip Yuri's hand, and his own heart skips a beat when Yuri grips JJ's hand back on reflex. He closes his eyes.

Tomorrow, they have a lot of things to face. A lot of explanations to give. But really, in the end, it's not that complicated.

quillpunk: screenshot of judith (making a exhaused, horrified expression) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (judith1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, AU - Vampires
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1206
  • Published on AO3: 2020-10-18

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts 2020 October: Vampires

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Zuko walked through the hallway with his hands held out in front of him. He wouldn't be caught by surprise if a trap sprung. Just the fact that he had been forced to run into this ancient palace was a humiliation. The fact that his uncle had followed after him made something chafe in his chest. He didn't want to be the reason that his uncle was thrown out — exiled from the organization that he'd been born into.

The palace was old. It rose high above his head when he'd forced his way inside. Zuko had no idea whose palace this was, but from prior experience, it had to be the home of a vampire.

The scent of death and decay hung in the air.

His fists sparked flame as he used the light of his own fire to guide his path. The place was quiet — far too quiet. It made his shoulders tense and his eyes glance wearily around him. He knew that there was something there, something waiting in the darkness. Something that his training told him to kill.

He came upon a big pair of doors, after wandering the palace uninterrupted for nearly an hour. Big, gaudy, and covered in dust and grime, as neglected as the rest of this palace. The doors were heavy too; he had to put his entire weight on them in order to get them to budge. But eventually, they did. They creaked when they slowly opened, Zuko's fire casting shadows into the large room revealed.

The first he saw was scrolls. On the dusty floor, on high bookshelves — yellowing scrolls with fading ink on the edge of falling apart. Out of curiosity, he picked one up and uncurled it in his hands. He was no stranger to old scrolls, his family was proud of their legacy and had kept everything they possibly could. This one had to be even older than their most ancient ones though. It almost felt like it would fall apart in his hands. Zuko carefully put it back where he found it, his fire receding until they weren't at risk of making this whole archive (because it must be an archive) go up in flames.

He could hear something. Zuko's fire went out with naught but a thought. He crept between the high shelves and slowly approached the origin of the sound. The closer he got to it, the more he could make out what it was. It nearly sounded like... muttering? But that couldn't be right.

No, it could be. If it was a vampire.

Zuko's eyes narrowed. His vision in the damaged one wasn't the best, and in the darkness, he could hardly see out of it. A weakness. One that the heir of the best vampire-hunting organization in the world couldn't have, nevermind that it was his father that—

He took a deep breath. Held it in until the count of ten. Let it out.

There was a vampire somewhere. He needed to focus.

He turned the last corner. Vaguely, he could make out f humanoid figure in the dark. His eyes had started adjusting and he could just about make out their general shape. Humanoid, likely male, with a very bulky body. A mess of fabric covered them. Slowly, one of Zuko's hand shifted to the sheath of his swords.

The vampire looked up. They fumbled with their scroll. It fell to the floor with a clatter and Zuko automatically winced at the loud sound in the otherwise death silent location.

"Hello!" The vampire clambered up to their feet. They dusted off their robes at the same time as Zuko's fire lit up the space around them again. He had already been discovered, there was no reason to submit himself to bad vision. That would be a disadvantage in a fight that he might not afford. The vampire blinked rapidly at the sudden light, their bright green eyes glowing from the light.

Zuko was already in a ready to fight position when the vampire took a step closer to him. "Don't move," Zuko ordered.

The vampire stumbled to a stop. They licked their lips, fangs peeking out between them. In the light, Zuko could tell that they were male-presenting. The vampire's eyes looked over Zuko, the gaze examining every part of him. When he moved to take another step, his foot hit one of the scrolls on the floor around the vampire. Gasping, the vampire immediately bent down and started picking up the scrolls. When he stood back up again, he had over a dozen scrolls collected in his bosom.

"Did you come here for something?" the vampire asked as he started to slowly walk over to a nearby table. Why he had been reading on the floor when there was a table right next to him, Zuko didn't understand. Intermittently, scrolls would threaten to fall out of the vampire's grip and the vampire would frantically try to catch them.

Zuko looked at his fire. Then he looked at the sword he held in his other hand. Then he looked at the vampire's back as they gently put the scrolls down on the table.

"I am a vampire hunter," he said. The vampire whipped around and stared with wide eyes at Zuko. They lit up and the vampire smiled at him.

"I have lots of scrolls about vampire-hunting!" the vampire announced.

Zuko blinked again. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Aren't you a vampire?"

"Yes," the vampire nodded. "I am Kuei, former king of the Earth Kingdom! Nowadays I just maintain my archive though. It's been a while since I've added anything to it..." the vampire frowned and looked at Zuko with a pleading expression, "You wouldn't have any books with you?"

"I'm sure my uncle has some," Zuko said after a second of silence. Putting his sword away in the sheath again was stupid of him. Coming to this palace in the first place was stupid. Getting split up from his uncle because he got distracted by a mural was stupid of him. Yet, Zuko's hands moved before his mind caught up with them. Yet, he had entered this palace because it seemed like the better alternative to getting killed by his sister. Yet, he had wandered deeper and deeper into the palace instead of retracing his steps and tracking down his uncle.

Zuko was a fool.

"Hmm. I think the most recent vampire-hunting scrolls are over..." Zuko followed behind Kuei as the vampire lead the way through the gigantic archive. As he walked, he could hear his sister's voice chiding him in his head. He should be attacking the vampire. He should be doing what he had been raised to do. He shouldn't be following behind it, letting it lead him to potential traps.

But his sister had just tried to kill. His father had banished him until he could kill a mythical vampire that hadn't been seen in over a hundred years. His uncle had gone into exile with him. Zuko had had to enter this palace in order to escape troops from the organization he had been born into.

In comparison with everything else, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, if Kuei led him into a trap.

quillpunk: screenshot of Rue (blushing and happy)from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (rue1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Amnesia, Fluff
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1150
  • Published on AO3: 2020-10-20

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts 2020 September: Temporary Amnesia

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Kuei stumbled to a stop. He had no idea where he was. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he surreptitiously glanced around; he was in the middle of a street full of people who looked haggard and tired. Most of them had scars too, and he even saw a few without the ideal number of limbs. Licking his lips, he moved to the side of the street so that he wasn't in the way.

He couldn't remember how he got here.

He could only remember the confusion and the sense that he needed to go somewhere; before that his memory was empty. He had no idea where he was, who he was (he had vague memories of a boy with an arrow painted on his skin calling him 'Kuei' but could he really trust that?) or what he was supposed to be doing here. Yet here he was. The people around him gave him odd looks and wary glances and when he looked down, he saw that there was a clear difference in the clothes he was wearing. The quality was much better, and the color was such a stark green that it stood out seamlessly.

His fingers started worrying the edges of his long, sweeping sleeves almost on reflex, and he moved out of the way of the people on the street. The sky was blue and the buildings around him were all various shades of brown. There wasn't a plant or tree as far as his eyes could see.

Kuei swayed a little on his feet; should he stay put and wait for somebody to find him? He was dressed so nicely, surely there must be someone out there looking for him. And it made sense, if he wanted to be found, he should stay in one location. But did he want to be found? Probably, there was no reason not to. Still, waiting by the side of the road didn't seem very productive. And he was taking up space, and interrupting the flow of the street goers, and surely there was the threat of being mugged, wasn't there? So he should go inside and wait.

Nodding to himself, Kuei looked around, craning his neck to see as far as he could. His eyes lit up when they landed on a nicely lit up place not far. The people exiting it looked pleased, so it couldn't be all that bad, even if the rest of the street was kind of iffy. No, it was rude of him to call it iffy, perhaps downtrodden was a better word? He grimaced. Was he a person that cared what things looked like?

He held his robes up as he walked over the street so as to not get mud on it, so, likely. Kuei hurried across the street and toward the entrance he had spotted. What little he could see through the windows seemed nice enough. And the glow from inside said that it would be warm; if he had to wait hours to be found he didn't want to freeze. The robes were thick, yes, but he didn't know how cold it would get during the night. And come to think of it, what season was it? He hoped summer; he didn't want to get trapped out in the snow.

Kuei let his robes go once he stepped inside the shop. He blinked at the light, his eyes shifting over the people sitting at the numerous wooden tables. There was a bar to the side behind which stood an old man with a long grey beard who was making tea. The atmosphere was lively; the sound of chatter and laughter filled the room.

A young man in an apron approached Kuei. "Pick a table," he said, frowning at Kuei. The motion made his scar drag, though it was still stiff and unmoving. The thought occurred to Kuei that there had to be a lot of nerve damage with such severe scarring. Where the knowledge had come from, he didn't know. The short, dark hair was ruffled and fell around his face, making Kuei's gaze focus on his eyes. They were the most startling shade of gold; the kind of gold that was brighter than the gold on Kuei's robes.

Kuei nodded and sat down at the closest empty one.

The young man followed him, his gold eyes glinting in the light. Clearly a server of some kind, he asked Kuei, "What do you want?"

"Oh," Kuei furrowed his eyebrows. He searched his memory but couldn't come up with anything that would help him in figuring out what was served here and what he might like. In the first place, what kind of ship was this? He cleared his throat and his fingers gripped his robe on his lap. "What would you recommend?"

The server shrugged. "Jasmine tea," he said and wrote it down on his notepad before Kuei could say anything.

Well, it would probably be fine.

Kuei couldn't help but stare at the server. The young man had to be the prettiest person that Kuei had ever seen. His gold eyes only shone brighter when he smiled, and his crooked half-smile made something squirm in Kuei's stomach. As the server relayed the order to the man behind the counter, Kuei brought his hand up to his face and tried to feel if he was blushing. It didn't give him any answers.

His fingers fiddled with the edge of his robe again as he sat still. When the server came back with the smoking tea, Kuei felt his stomach jump. It tingled as he watched the server put the teacup down on the table in front of him. Kuei licked his lips and said, "Uhm... your name— ah, what's your name?"

"Li," the dark-haired young man answered. His skin was pale, so pale compared to everyone else that Kuei wondered if he was ill. And the clothes were in so poor quality that Kuei could see the outline of his body; he was very clearly well-trained. He walked like he knew how to fight, too.

And he was warm.

Something about his presence made Kuei feel as if he was standing in sunlight.

Kuei picked up the tea. "Thank you," he said. He took a sip and found, to his pleasure, that he liked the taste just fine.

Li smiled at him, the movement quick. It disappeared quickly from his face, but Kuei had already been lost. There was just... he was so... Kuei couldn't...

The beauty was too much for him! His heart couldn't handle this! Somebody, find him soon! He had to figure out how people courted! Ah, but he had seen a dismal-looking flower stall on the way here. Surely, that was a safe bet? Nodding, Kuei downed the rest of his tea, dropped some of the coins on the table, and left to purchase some flowers.

quillpunk: literally nothing. something went wrong and now it's literally nothing. (thingy)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, AU - Different First Meeting, Dreamwalking
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 713
  • Published on AO3: 2020-11-24

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts 2020, August: Dreamwalking

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Kuei dreams. Over and over again, he lies awake in his dreamworld, watching events unfold a hundred times over. Most of them, he has memorized. He has seen the Moon dying and being reborn a thousand times, can perfectly recite the speech Fire Lord Zuko gives at his coronation.

Kuei dreams. Endlessly, always, he dreams.

But sometimes, he's awake.

(Sometimes, he has to sit on his throne and pretend he doesn't know Long Feng has long since betrayed him. Kuei knows, intimately, that he doesn't have any power here. He's a puppet king, and he's always been aware of this.)

The Avatar comes. Of course, he does. Kuei has his face and the date memorized (Aang is the actual Avatar!!!). The Avatar comes right on schedule and Kuei allows himself to get swept along with it, plays his part like he always has. This is right, he knows. This is the path that will lead to the end of the war.

This is the path that will save the world.

But after, he.... lingers.

The Avatar has retired with his companions. Kuei is left alone with his guards, for the first time in his waking life outside of Long Feng's influence. It won't last, obviously, not with Princess Azula coming. But for now, he has peace.

Kuei dreams. A hundred times over, he dreams and he dreams and he dreams. There is never an end to them, no matter how many times he's relived the same moments. He knows more of the future than any mortal should. His entire life is laid out ahead of him and he's already lived it a hundred, a thousand times. He has every part of it memorized, can recite every word he said at his own wedding.

He knows what happens from here on out. He's always known. This is the part where they first meet, the part where Kuei has to pretend that he's not been in love with this man for his entire life.

This is the part where he first meets Zuko.

Kuei walks into the teashop while holding his breath. It's inevitable, that they meet here. This is where it starts. This is when Kuei falls in love (again).

He leaves his guards outside. The shop is small and barely furnished, worn down by the elements and dearly beloved. The light is low, easy on the eyes. The first thing Kuei sees when he steps inside is Zuko, clothed in an apron and standing by the counter. He's arguing with his uncle (about some girl, but she never appears again) and gesturing wildly.

When Kuei clears his throat, Zuko looks up. His eyes glint in the light, an inhumanly bright gold color. The spark of recognition that lights up his eyes is welcoming.

"Umm, ehm, hello," Kuei rushes to day. His hands are clammy and he twists them together in front of himself. "I, ah, was hoping for some tea?"

Kuei has done this a thousand times and always, Zuko leaves him weak in the knees. Always, he trips and spins over his words. Always, he ends up standing and staring at his husband, the pounding in his chest so loud he wonders how Zuko can't hear it.

He can feel a blush staining his cheeks. But when Zuko smiles at him and nods, leading the way to a table, Kuei forgets his embarrassment.

"I'll get your jasmine tea," says Zuko. He doesn't wait to see Kuei's reaction.

Kuei wonders what Zuko has seen of him. Everything, probably. He remembers that conversation, when he first found out that Zuko had always known Kuei just as well as Kuei knew him. He remembers the warmth in his chest when he realized that Zuko chose him, in the same manner that Kuei picked Zuko.

Because in the same way that Kuei dreams of the future, Zuko dreams of the past.

(Kuei has memories of a life they weren't together in. The very first time that he saw the future, it was laid out seamlessly, coldly, with an Earth Kingdom that will shatter in the end. But after that, he never knew a life like that again. A future him had changed it, had fallen in love.

And then, endlessly, a thousand times, he chose Zuko.)

quillpunk: screenshot of Judith (she's blushing to a flowering, rosy background) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (judith2)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, AU - Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Dorks in Love, AU - Role Reversal
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1059
  • Published on AO3: 2021-02-04

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts 2021, January: Arranged Marriage & February: Dorks in Love

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


The sound of something falling brought him out of his reverie and Zuko blinked, startled. He turned around and asked his fiance, "What's wrong?"

"Ah, I just slipped," Kuei answered, worrying his bottom lip and looking forlornly down at the mess by his feet. In his defense, the glass floor they were walking on was absurdly slippery, and he was a little bewildered that such a part of Wan Shi Tong's infamous library had such flooring. It meant they had to walk at a weirdly slow pace, but Zuko could already see the end of the hallway coming up. Soon, they'd be back on common flooring.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to take his fiance on a journey to Wan Shi Tong's library; it hadn't been easy reaching it, after all. Going incognito had made it even harder, and the constant threat of escalating battles now that the Avatar had been found had only made it more dangerous. But looking at the enraptured expression on Kuei's face every time the teenager got to look at yet another new scroll ages-old, Zuko found there was no regret in him. Instead, he was filled with a strange feeling of pride—pride, that he had been the one to make Kuei have that expression. It made his chest go tight, and he had to look away before he did something foolish.

This wasn't what anyone had intended, he knew, when he had been engaged to the Earth King. They had used it as a way to get him out of the running for the throne, for no Fire Lord could be married to a non-firebender, much less a man. It had been a way to send him into exile without having to phrase it that. They had surely expected the teenage king to annoy him, for him to find it all a humiliation.

But Kuei was sweet.

That was the first thing about his new fiance that struck him—Kuei was incredibly sweet. He was young and naïve and yes, downright ignorant of the world. He'd been painfully shy at times, and yet shamelessly forward at others. And Zuko could still vividly remember how excited Kuei had been when he discovered that Zuko didn't mind spending hours in silence with him in the ridiculously huge library.

To his father, this was all a farce. But to Zuko, it was a gift.

They reached the end of the glass corridor and the doors before them opened automatically, without anyone having to touch them. He heard Kuei gasp, and had to force himself not to look over. It would be fine—he'd have a thousand more chances to see the wonder on Kuei's face.

Maybe it was strange, how quickly he'd gotten attached. But he'd been trapped on a ship for over a decade, banished in all but name. He'd sailed every corner of the Fire Nation, never settling down anywhere for fear of sparking his father's rage, and then when he was finally shipped off to a place and told it would be his home... well, Zuko wasn't a statue. It was inevitable, that the warmth Kuei so thoughtlessly provided would draw him in.

Wan Shi Tong's library was gigantic, too gigantic for mortal minds to really comprehend. It bent in on itself, and after only two hours in this place, Zuko was already lost. The fact that Wan Shi Tong had even let them in was already beyond his imagination, and letting them traverse it like this was beyond hope.

"Come, come," Kuei snagged his hand as he flew by, dragging Zuko along as he pointed at the shelf ahead of them. Zuko didn't know what he'd seen, but he curled his fingers around Kuei's hand and soaked up the sensation. He allowed himself to be led by a boy nigh eight years his junior and didn't protest as his arms were immediately loaded up with books once they arrived.

While Kuei continued to look through them, Zuko looked around, spotted a corner that looked nice enough, and carted the books off to it. He gently put them down, not wanting to know what Wan Shi Tong's reaction would be if they damaged the books—it wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Done with that, he wandered back to Kuei's side, tracing his eyes over the books in search of something interesting as he went.

He heard Kuei exclaim over something, and saw the teenager shoot off for the corner Zuko had already prepared. Zuko let him go, content in the knowledge that Kuei would call for him if he needed something.

Meanwhile, he found some things he himself was interested in.

It was hours later, the candlelight rapidly depleting, that Zuko looked up and found his young fiance nearly asleep by his side. Zuko blinked, exhaustion having started weighing him down as well, and he moved closer to his fiance, scooting over on the floor to his side. "Kuei," Zuko said, falling to silence as he tried to think of what to say. Kuei looked over at him, his eyes on the edge of closing, and hummed quietly in response.

"You need to sleep," was what Zuko ended up settling on.

Kuei blearily gazed at him, in the end only nodding. He yawned, not bothering to cover it up, and scooted close enough to Zuko to lean on him. Zuko's arm curled over his back and hugged him tightly, feeling the slight trembling Kuei was trying to suppress.

He hoped this journey had helped settle Kuei's heart. After Zuko told him what was really going on with the world, Kuei had retreated into himself a little bit. Not visibly—but when they were alone, he would sometimes fall silent, trapped in his own thoughts. So Zuko hoped this journey had soothed him, that getting to see for himself what life was like outside Ba Sing Se had settled something in him. It seemed like it, sometimes.

Zuko repositioned them on the floor, pulling out the sleeping gear as he went, and laid down on it with Kuei. Like always when they slept together, Kuei clung to Zuko; seeking the warmth his body always provided. Zuko treasured it—coveted it, almost.

It was warm under the blanket with another body laying next to him.

He fell asleep within minutes.

quillpunk: screenshot of adam's face in full costume from SK8 (adam)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
  • * Pairing:* Huā Chéng/Xiè Lián
  • Characters: Huā Chéng, Xiè Lián
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Amnesia, Established Relationship, Fluff
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1077
  • Published on AO3: 2021-03-16

Notes: Xie Lian and Hua Cheng might not know who they are, but they know they’re in love.

Disclaimer: I do not own 天官赐福 or any associated trademarks.


Hua Cheng wakes up and—something is missing. There is a gap, a hole, a chasm spread over his heart. His body is on fire, his soul colder than ice, his heart caught in a cascade of emotions too complicated for him to name. Something inside him cries. Something else laughs victoriously. There is a—jaggedness to his feelings when he tries to examine them.

He doesn’t know where he is.

This is the second thing he realizes. The first is that he doesn’t know who he is but that’s of lesser importance. He—needs to find something. There is something missing and he needs to find it, and in the wake of that unrelenting need… some lost memories really isn’t that big of a deal.

He climbs to his feet. He’s in a forest somewhere; he doesn’t recognize a thing around him. That’s fine. He’s looking for something; something that is everything to him.

Hua Cheng knows his name. This is a thought that occurs to him while he’s looking through comically overgrown trees for—what he’s searching for. He knows his name. It’s Hua Cheng. Why he knows his name and nothing else, he doesn’t care to think about.

The searching is important. He can’t stop until he finds—

Somebody.

Yes, it’s a somebody. Not a something, but a person. He needs to find them and until then, every question he has will just have to go unanswered.

It’s morning, the sun in the middle of rising, when his search reaches its end.

There are footsteps up ahead, a voice on the wind he doesn’t recognize—but his dead heart speeds up at the sound of it. His feet tramples on the uneven ground, his eyes growing wider as he gets closer. There; between the trees, around that bend, beyond that rock, near that river… is a god.

An actual god, Hua Cheng isn’t just being dramatic. He can feel it; this man is a god. He’s a god and Hua Cheng is a ghost, long since dead. He can feel this too.

”Is somebody there?” the actual god asks, sounding fretfully uncertain. This is not okay.

Hua Cheng bursts out from the woods onto the riverbank.

The actual god blinks at him, looking him over, and then he—smiles. Softly. His eyes brightening to an unfair degree. He stands up from the river and turns fully to Hua Cheng, taking a hesitant step closer. He’s clothed cheaply, a straw hat on his head, and he smiles, smiles, smiles.

Hua Cheng thinks he might have died again. But if so—it’s worth it.

A burst of warmth is worming its way out of his chest, pooling in his stomach; his throat; his arms and his legs and his lungs and more body parts than he thought he possessed. There is—something inside him that begs to be released.

”Hello,” he croaks out. His voice rasps, the vocal cords abruptly deciding to stop working.

The actual god takes another step toward him and says, ”Hi.”

Heart attacks feel like this, huh. He clenches a hand over his heart, feeling it beating erratically. That’s fine, he doesn’t need it to live. Let it beat out of his chest and display itself at the feet of this god; Hua Cheng will support its ambitions.

”Do I know you?” The actual god tilts his head and smiles beatifically at him.

Hua Cheng says, ”I don’t remember. But…” he lets the sentence hang in the air between them, uncertain of what to say. They must know each other—it wouldn’t feel as it his very soul was quivering otherwise. But he can’t think of a way to say that without sounding like a maniac.

”Ah, it’s just…” the god scratches his cheek and laughs. ”I’m fairly certain I’m in love with you.”

Hua Cheng has died. For like the fourteenth time. This is—not real; not unreal.

The god is still talking— ”…my heart is pounding when I look at you, and I feel the need to hug you and I want to tell you about the things I saw coming here. Did you know that there are very peculiar wolves living in this forest? And I wonder if might be interested in having a meal with me?”

”Yes,” Hua Cheng says. He’s not entirely certain what he’s saying yes to, but that doesn’t matter. Anything this god says, anything this god wants, anything—Hua Cheng will give.

”I’m Hua Cheng,” he tacks on while the god is floundering at his speedy response.

The god smiles softer (how is it possible?) and he says, ”My name is Xie Lian. I appear to have lost my memory, and have no idea where I am.”

He does not sound concerned about this.

”We match, then,” Hua Cheng says.

He crosses the final bit of distance between them and holds out his arm. He does not know why he does it, but when the god intertwines their arms, he thinks he understand.

This is an actual god. How did Hua Cheng fall in love with a god?

Surely, a person like this is too good for him.

With their arms connected, the warmth within him spirals out of control. He feels—like he’s going to combust. His eyes water, for some reason. There is a beat in his chest spelling out joy; endless, agonizing joy. The kind that takes him over and makes him smile and he grins and he leans forward and he says, ”Shall we solve this mystery together, my dear?”

And something in him breaks. It shatters into a thousand little pieces, the puzzle of his identity lost to the knowledge he acquires. Hua Cheng is love with this person. With Xie Lian.

He loves him.

Xie Lian’s answering smile is bright and shining and for a moment it blinds him; ”Of course,” he says, and he crosses the last bit of distance between them and presses a quick kiss to Hua Cheng’s cheek.

It’s warm and soft and gentle and a part of him sits up and takes notice—who cares about the malicious intentions surrounding them? Who cares about the bloodlust he can feel gathering around them? Who cares about the interrupted ritual spilling its discontent in the air? Who cares about the weapons and the anger and the pain?

Hua Cheng is in love with this man. He wonders how much it costs to hold a wedding.

quillpunk: screenshot of Luca (making a disgusted, scheming expression) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (luca1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: G
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 - 유려한 | Trash of the Count's Family - Yulyeohan
  • Characters: Choi Han, Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 393
  • Published on AO3: 2021-04-12

Notes: A really old Choi Han-centric drabble of mine from tumblr.

Disclaimer: I do not own 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 or any associated trademarks.


Choi Han blinked himself to wakefulness and rolled out of bed. He stretched properly, yawning slightly through them, and moved over to his closet. Dressing was easy, the movements flowing through him like water. He walked over to the window, pulling the drapes apart to let the sunlight in.

For a minute, he stood still. He took a breath, a breath, one more breath. The sensation of sunshine on his skin was like the first bite of his mother’s favorite tea. He blinked as the sunlight shone into his eyes.

He walked, stepping over the stone floors, on his way to the office. Out the windows that he passed, he could see the wolf children training. A warm feeling spread through his stomach, as if the sun itself had deigned to give him light. It pooled in the bottom of his belly, speeding up his steps as he hurried.

Around corners and through long hallways, and he arrived at a wooden door.

Choi Han breathed deeply, pulling in air through his nose, and wondered if his emotions were visible on his face. He didn’t think they were, but such things didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t necessary.

Opening the door, pushing it open almost all the way, he sneaked in through the doorway before he could be sent away again.

The brilliant sunshine shone in through the open windows along the far wall, glowing with yellow and orange and red as it descended upon the body of Cale Henituse, sitting behind a big desk. Choi Han’s steps faltered slightly as he took in the sight of the light falling on Cale’s hair, turning it a fiery shade of red, akin to an open flame.

In the morning light, with so few candles lit, Cale’s hair shone like a miniature sun. Like he was glowing from the inside out, the light halo’d around him, surrounding him as he read reports.

“Choi Han?” Cale looked up, a frowning twisting his elegant features, “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Choi Han just shook his head, walking over to the wall and standing still. His eyes sneaked peeks at Cale as the man kept working, Raon sitting next to him and a cat on his lap.

Even as the sun rose high into the sky and no longer reached through the windows, Cale never stopped glowing.

quillpunk: screenshot of langa from SK8, with a joyful expression (langa7)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Classroom of the Elite (Light Novel/Anime)
  • Relationship: Ayanokouji Kiyotaka/Ryuuen Kakeru
  • Characters: Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, Ryuuen Kakeru
  • Additional Tags: Time Loop, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Early in Canon
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 7221
  • Published on AO3: 2021-04-22

Notes: IT'S NOT 10K, SCREW YOU, BRAIN, I WON

Disclaimer: I do not own Classroom of the Elite or any associated trademarks.


Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Or, well, it would be. If things were normal, that would be the end of the story. But he dies and—wakes up.

Shakes himself awake, really. Like falling in your dreams, waking up when you hit the ground. He's dying, dying, dead. And now he's awake, alive and well. When he pats himself down, there's not a wound on him; not a hint of the damage caused by a piano falling on top of him. Crushing him to death.

He doesn't think it's normal, to get crushed by a piano and wake up whole and well. It seems like something people would talk about, if it were. Like "Oh yeah, make sure you don't get hit by a piano, it's a pain to get covered by insurance" or something. Surely, that kind thing would be a known issue to avoid. Or maybe it was just this piano, maybe it was special of some kind?

It's not like this is exactly a problem though, so he doesn't spare it any mind. It's possible it was all just an incredibly vivid dream, and he shouldn't make any judgments before he has all the facts.

Kiyotaka mechanically goes through the process of getting, doing the same things he always does in the morning. It's important to have a routine, he thinks. It means you don't have to guess what happens next. So getting ready is easy and familiar and he exits his room at the same time he always does.

He's only been at this school—Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School—for about two weeks now, and he thinks he's starting to settle into a routine. It's a Monday today, so he heads straight for the classroom. There won't be any actual studying, based on prior experience, but he's a student so he should still attend class. It's the normal thing to do.

A truant student is more noticeable than the student who sits quietly at the back of the class doing nothing, after all. So he's going to class, the day after he was summarily crushed by a piano, because that's the normal thing to do.

For being a school day, there are surprisingly few students walking the grounds.

Nobody pays any attention to him. He crosses the first part of the grounds easily enough, and he veers off the path to check out the location he died at yesterday.

It's a sunny day today; just like yesterday. The wind quietly whines through the foliage, the early morning light casting long shadows on the ground. Kiyotaka walks undisturbed, and the silence unsettles him. Because it's Monday, and there should be students frantically rushing to class right now. Kiyotaka always makes certain to arrive just before class starts, so he's not that person who arrives early before everyone else, or a person known for their lateness.

He's got the timing down to perfection. He knows the students who he usually sees on these mornings, the way they rush past him like it's a matter of life and death. Usually upperclassmen, but it's mostly the same people. He walks this path for a reason, after all.

There's nothing special about the place he died.

He thoroughly searches the ground, but can't find any trace of blood or other splatter that would occur when a person is crushed by something that heavy. There are no traces of the damage from the window the piano fell out of the either, and the surroundings are completely undamaged. Not so. much as a wooden splinter to be found.

He founds it doubtful that even a school such as this would be able to completely erase the traces so quickly. Or maybe they could, but there should still be some kind of effort to keep it contained and uncontaminated in case an investigation needs to be made. But there's nothing, and that's most unsettling of all.

Kiyotaka finally determines that no more evidence can be found here and continues on to his classroom. There are less and less students around the closer he comes and his watch tells him he's still early. There should still be people rushing around him. But—eventually there's nobody.

Eventually, he stands in front of his classroom and the door is locked. Eventually, he looks through the windows and discovers there's not a person in there. Eventually, he turns on his phone and checks the date.

Eventually, he discovers it's Sunday—again.

There's not really a lot he can do after that. He returns to his room, settles down on the bed and tries to organize his thoughts. He even contacts Horikita, but there's no evidence to suggest that it should be Monday.

Once all the evidence has been collected, it would be foolishness to deny the truth. It's Sunday. Being crushed by a piano never happened. The only assumption left is that he had a particularly memorable dream—such things are possible. But now that the facts have been determined, he dismisses the rest of the happenings.

He goes through the rest of the day much like he remembers from his dream. It's not odd; he's done pretty much the exact same things every weekend here so far. And dreams take their images and content from your memories, so there's really nothing strange about it.

Kiyotaka spends some time reading in the library, goes to the park and jogs, reads some nice magazines in one of the shops, eats lunch, plays some games on his phone, eats dinner, walks back to his dorm, takes the elevator—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

But, no, because he dies, dies, dies, and then he—wakes up.

He startles awake really, his heart pounding as his eyes flash open. Like falling in a dream, jumping awake the moment you hit the ground. His hand reaches out for his phone, grabbing it from the bedside table. He brings it up to his face, frowning when he sees the date and time.

It's Sunday. It's morning; the weather is sunny with mild winds and no projected rain. He rubs his eyes and blinks at the sunlight streaming in through the windows. A suspicion grows inside of him and he curls his hand around the phone, his eyebrows furrowing.

It's strange.

He quickly changes into his uniform, his frown growing large the more time he takes. Every time he checks his phone or watch, the time is unchanged. It's still Sunday. It's still morning. Nothing changes.

Kiyotaka stalks out into the hallway. He steps up to the elevator, glancing around it. There's nobody else in the corridor; it's only six-thirty in the morning on a Sunday so most people are probably still asleep. It means he's undisturbed when he walks into the elevator and investigates it, checking over every inch of it.

But there's no sign of it having fallen. There's no sign of his death in here.

Kiyotaka frowns again. Once is a coincidence but twice? It looks disturbingly enough like the beginning of a pattern.

He doesn't think this is normal. He doesn't think people usually die and wake up at the start of the day. It seems like the kind of thing people would be warned against, like something people would talk about it. No, if something this extraordinary was normal, he would know.

So it's not normal. But there's no way to tell if it's supposed to be an attack against him, if it's something deliberate done by a human. He doesn't have much faith left over for supernatural beings, but he doesn't think he's nearly interesting enough for something like that to go messing with him, if they do exist.

After all, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is perfectly normal.

The elevator doesn't reveal anything, as does none of the probing on any of the people he knows. They're not allowed to have contact outside of the school, so he can't exactly easily search for similar instances such as this. Thus, after eating a healthy breakfast, Kiyotaka heads to the library to do some research.

When it comes to dangerous things such as this, knowledge is the number one priority. He's gone over every inch of his skin, categorized every memory he has of the last few days, and he's fairly confident that this is neither a dream nor a delusion. That leaves outside influences as the only possible reason for this strange occurrence, which means—research. And lots of it.

He arrives at the library. Nodding to the librarian on duty, he makes his way through—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Except, not really. Because he dies, dies, dies, and then he—wakes up.

He bounces on the bed, his eyes flying open. Like when you fall in a dream and wake up the instant you hit the ground; he bounces, and his eyes stare up at the ceiling, and he frowns.

This is officially a pattern. It's happened three times in a row and the evidence all suggests that it will happen again unless he figures out how to stop it. He will have to return to the library, as he didn't have time to start researching before the bookcases fell on him and he was returned to this moment in time.

Kiyotaka sighs as he sits up. He checks the phone, but it's the same as always; exactly the same. It's even the precisely same time down to the minute.

He rubs his neck, scratches slightly on his nose. Changing position so he's leaning against the wall, he browses through his contact list. He's not going to ask for help, because this is too bizarre and he doesn't know anyone who could assist with this. Horikita is too material, too condescending. She would assume it was a joke and put him down for it; he thinks that he might be able to convince others that it's for a game or something and get them to help with research, but he doesn't trust anyone enough for that.

Horikita is really the only person he can count as a friend, so it's sad that she isn't actually one. He thinks this is the kind of special circumstance where outside perspective would be good.

Sometimes, when you get stuck on a problem, the solution is to verbalize it. Speak it out loud and organize your thoughts as you go. You might even say something that you hadn't even consciously thought and have a realization. So Kiyotaka says into the darkness of his room, "I'm stuck in a loop. A time loop."

No realizations are made.

He cocks his head to the side and hums. His plan earlier was correct; he needs information.

Kiyotaka goes through the motions of getting ready. It's still early, and this is evidenced by the fact that he hardly runs into anyone as he crosses the grounds. The library is just as he remember it and enters with a wary eye on the shelves. So far he hasn't died from the same thing twice—riding the elevator has been fine—but a little caution is never wrong.

This time, the library doesn't kill him. He spends close to four hours in there searching through book after book. Non-fiction doesn't give him what he wants, aside from a few theoretical physics books that aren't really helpful at all, so he turns no fiction books soon enough.

He comes closer, but still doesn't have any concrete information. It bugs him, an itch beneath his skin he can't quite manage to scratch. The idea that he can't figure out why this is happening is annoying; it's not a feeling he enjoys.

Kiyotaka leaves the library feeling empty and with a nearly imperceptible frown on his face.

He goes to the cafeteria for lunch. It's afternoon and far more students are up and about now—being the weekend, they're bright and cheery as they take a break from school. Kiyotaka catches sight of a few students from his class as he walks; Sudou is bouncing a basketball by his side as he talks with some people Kiyotaka doesn't know. Kushida is in the middle of a congestion of students who are all smiling brightly. Horikita walks alone with her head held high and a convenience store bag hanging on her arm.

He doesn't know what to do now. It's a strange feeling and it both excites and worries him. There's no frame of reference here, no prior example he can use to figure out the do's and don'ts. His own experience in mystical events such as this is negligent and can't help; he doesn't know anyone who could possibly be useful in this situation either.

It's a conundrum.

The loop suggests that he has time. If he always wakes up at the same time and place, then it stands to reason that he can realistically use the method of elimination. He doesn't know how to fix this, but he has time and—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

There's a pressure in his lungs when he wakes up, a scream lodged in his throat. He was dying, dying, dead. His eyes fly open as awareness abruptly returns to him, as suddenly as when you're falling in your dream and returns to consciousness when you hit the ground. He blinks, and he wakes, and his heart is beating again.

He sits up. Crosses the room and blankly dresses in his uniform, half-heartedly brushing his teeth as he goes. The habit is too ingrained in him for him to ignore it now.

He doesn't go to the library this time. He thinks he will, another time. But for now, there are other avenues to examine.

The first step is telling someone about his circumstance. It doesn't matter who, he just needs to know if someone elseknowing about it has an effect. He strides out of the apartment building and out onto the grounds outside.

It's early, still. It's always early. The sun is shining, birds are chirping and the winds are pleasantly cool. The leaves gently tremble on the trees, the foliage giving the grounds a much more relaxed atmosphere. Kiyotaka crosses them unhindered, taking the long way around the statue that recently crushed him, spying a student not far ahead. He's seen him around; this is the person who so effortlessly controls Class C.

Kiyotaka catches up to Ryuuen; a student who stands out so much isn't hard to remember. He sees the way Ryuuen tilts his head and shoots him an annoyed glance, and decides that he might as well take the opportunity; "I'm stuck in a time loop," Kiyotaka flatly says.

Ryuuen stops dead in his tracks..

Kiyotaka stops as well. He eyes the harsh glare on Ryuuen's face, the way it twists his features. "Hah?" Ryuuen demands, his fists curling by his sides. "Are you messing with me?"

"No." He waits for Ryuuen to do something. He wonders, does he only go back in time if he dies in an accident, or does it also work if he deliberately dies?

Something to think about.

Ryuuen eyes him, something calculating in his eyes. His expression shifts and his shoulders ease back from the tension they'd held as the other teenager turns to face him head on. He sneers, "I don't have time to bother with your games. Buzz off."

Kiyotaka tilts his head. He considers the boy before him and what he knows of him. Ryuuen is smart, and he already has an iron grip on his class. As soon as the point system was revealed, Ryuuen immediately started investigating it amongst the upperclassmen and using his class authority to keep the others in his class from wasting their points.

Kiyotaka doesn't know what's happening. He doesn't know how to stop it, why it's happening, or how to even figure out a plan to deal with it. This is the kind of thing that plainly isn't made for logic, and his mind fails at coming up for plans about it.

Outside perspective is useful, despite what some of his teachers claimed. It does help, to have another way of looking at the problem.

And he's always been told to take advantage of whatever he can to succeed.

"It's not a game," he says to Ryuuen. He rocks a little on his heels, trying to project honesty. Ryuuen's sneer only grows, so he doesn't think he's doing very well. He continues, "Aren't you curious, if it could be true?"

Ryuuen laughs, the sound mocking. Kiyotaka didn't think a person could sound that mocking while laughing, and makes a note of it. He's not certain what use the ability has, but maybe it's an intimidation thing?

"Alright then," Ryuuen says, a cruel glint in his eyes. The sun catches on his hair, lighting it up from behind. Objectively, Kiyotaka thinks, Ryuuen is probably a good-looking person. "I'll play your game," Ryuuen says. He sweeps his hands out and declares, "I'll tell you a secret. On your next loop, find me and let me know what I told you, and I'll believe you."

It's a better response than Kiyotaka was expecting. He nods, memorizing what Ryuuen tells him. He's not entirely sure what kind of expertise Ryuuen brings to the table, but Kiyotaka has none at—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His eyes blearily blink open, his eyelids heavy as he stare out at the room before him. His heartbeat is pounding, his breathing quick as he forces his body to calm down. He lays there for a moment, the shock of waking so abruptly still making him uneasy. Like falling in a dream; waking the instant you the ground.

He has a plan now though, and he doesn't waste any time putting it into motion. First off, he needs to find out if anything has changed, if telling Ryuuen about his circumstances changed the game.

It's still the same time he always wakes up. When he texts Horikita, he gets the same scathing remark in response as usual. He checks the temperature and keeps an eye out as he walks across the school ground toward where he last met Ryuuen. Nothing has changed. It doesn't seem (at first glance, at least) like revealing the truth made any difference.

That does, however, mean that there's nothing holding him back.

Ryuuen is precisely where he lasts saw him.

He speeds up, his feet thumping loudly on the ground to announce his presence. Ryuuen turns his head and glances over his shoulder when Kiyotaka gets closer, scowl already on his face.

He appreciates the fact that Ryuuen so quickly gave him a practical solution last time. It saves him time and effort that are better spent on other avenues.

Reaching Ryuuen, he wastes no time, "I'm stuck in a time loop. Last loop, you gave me a secret and told me tell it to you and you'd believe me. The secret is: You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen's eyes widens. He snags a hold of Kiyotaka's shirt and pulls him close. "Shut the fuck up," he snarls in Kiyotaka's face, shaking him a little. Kiyotaka lets the man move him, hanging still as a rag doll. It's interesting; everything so far has been interesting. He doesn't know what's happening, and that only makes it all the more fascinating.

Ryuuen starts dragging him along without saying a word. Kiyotaka goes along with it, because there's not a reason not to. He gets dragged to an apartment building, gets dragged into an elevator, dragged onto another floor, dragged into a dorm room that is surprisingly clean for a teenage boy.

He gets dropped onto the bed and furiously glared at when he tries to rise from it, so he simply stays sitting.

Ryuuen paces around the room, his steps steady in a way that says he knows everything his body is capable of. Kiyotaka thinks he must have fighting experience, to move like that. It's the kind of slow, relaxed gait of somebody who knows intimately how to move each body part. Training isn't enough for that, real fighting experience is needed.

"Explain everything that's happened so far," Ryuuen declares, turning to face him. He sits down on the desk chair and stares intently at him.

Kiyotaka dutifully recounts every single thing that's happened so far, knowing how vital the tiniest clue could be. He tells the other teenager of his research and his assumptions, and his minor experiment last time. It feels nice to get everything off his chest and it does help to organize his thoughts, when he has to vocalize everything and put it into words.

It doesn't lead to any sudden realizations, but it makes him feel more settled. He hadn't realized how chaotic the last few days have been until he actually had to explain it.

Ryuuen looks thoughtful when Kiyotaka is done. He falls into silence and waits for Ryuuen's reaction, paying attention to his body language. He's not entirely sure what reaction he's expecting, but he's pleasantly surprised when Ryuuen says, "Fine, I'll help you."

It seems too easy.

All of Kiyotaka's prior experience tells him that it can't possibly be this easy. There should be negotiation and tactics involved. He should have to first investigate the target and then form a plan to approach them; categorize things that can go wrong and how to deal with them. But Ryuuen blows past all that like it doesn't even matter.

It does, of course. That's the point. But Ryuuen seems to think that he's good enough at adjusting things as he goes that he can just ignore it and it'll still work out.

"Alright, then. Let's make a plan," Ryuuen grins wildly, the expression causing something like excitement to stir within Kiyotaka.

Interesting. This has all been very interesting.

They spend the next hour cooking together a plan. It goes far more smoothly than Kiyotaka had imagined planning together with someone else would. It's enjoyable, even. Ryuuen is smart, tactical and has the kind of practicality in his planning that'll take him far. He picks up on the pieces Kiyotaka lays down and builds on it without any trouble.

It's nice, surpassingly. Kiyotaka didn't think it would be, for some reason.

Though he's fairly sure he's going to die soon, he still needs to eat. The human brain needs sustenance to operate at peak capacity, which is what he needs right now, so he's not going to ignore that need just because it's not absolutely necessary right this second. And there is a chance, however small it might be, that he won't die and then he'll suffer tomorrow for not having eaten.

He heads over to the cafeteria, having left Ryuuen to stew alone in his room, and eats a nice, pleasant meal on his lonesome. When he's done, he—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He shoots up on the bed, his hands clammy as they clench on the mattress. It feels like falling, like hitting the ground and waking up so quickly that it's a shock to his system. His heart is racing, his mouth dry as he stares at the wall. Sunlight is streaming in through the window, the curtain hanging calmly in front of it.

He presses a hand to his chest and breathes to the count of ten, feeling the beat of his heart slowly calm down. It's fine. Everything is fine.

It's mechanical, getting ready to leave. He's done it so many times before he's fairly confident he could do it in his sleep. Familiar, easy, relaxing. When he's ready, he leaves the apartment building to initiate Phase 1 of the plan.

So far, everything that's killed him has been the result of an accident. Mostly things falling and crushing him, and he doesn't precisely think that that's a coincidence, but it could just be that it's an easy accident to fabricate. Assuming that there is some kind of conscious force guiding this game along.

Because he doesn't think now, that this could be happenstance. Outside, conscious, interference is the only thing that could do this, and whether it's a god or a human it's still a matter of the same thing. Somebody is doing this, which means that there's an objective.

That objective might be amusement, a test, torture, or something else. But it's there, undoubtedly.

If Kiyotaka can find it, he can figure out how to end this.

It's simple, really. All he needs to do is use the method of elimination and the answer will eventually reveal itself. And the first thing to eliminate is—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Except, not really. Instead, he lurches up on his bed, hunching in on himself as he tries to calm his frantically beating heart. Like falling in a dream, he thinks, and waking up the instant you hit the ground.

Some part of him recognizes the fact that he's shaking, but a bigger part is preoccupied with how quickly he died the last time around. He wonders, is it the fact that he has a plan? Was putting the plan together and actually moving to execute it something that caused his death this time? Did it make the perpetuator behind this scheme nervous?

It's never good to panic. Staying calm so you can assess all the parts is a necessary component to scheming.

He goes through the bare minimum motions of getting ready, hurrying out the door as soon as he can. The morning sun is heavy on his eyes as he goes, looking for that place where he knows Ryuuen will be. He slows down as he goes, his thoughts organizing into clearly named boxes and he knows what needs to be done.

The first elimination has succeeded, and now it's on to the next thing. It's really not something that requires a lot of effort or planning put into it; all he has to do is methodically go through each option until only one remains. In the meantime, this is the perfect time to get some other, less important but still useful, stuff done.

Ryuuen trods along on the path toward him, his gait slow and predatory. His face is expressionless as he walks, and Kiyotaka finds himself wondering what the other teenager is thinking about. He looks relaxed where he walks alone, his pace steady and unhurried, hands in his pockets as he slowly stalks over the ground. Then he sees Kiyotaka and tension bleeds into his shoulders, a glare in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. Kiyotaka waits and sure enough, Ryuuen keeps walking toward him.

The predatory gait to his steps, the way that danger is folded over him like a cloak, makes something in Kiyotaka sit up and take notice. He eyes the clear musculature under his clothes and the strong lines of his body and wonders if this man would be a challenge.

When Ryuuen is close enough, Kiyotaka says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen stops in his tracks. His eyes are intelligent and calculating as he looks at Kiyotaka and he doesn't say a word for a moment. In the silence, Kiyotaka starts wondering if he should maybe have started with something else; eased into it. Interactions are still hard for him, because despite the fact that he's been here for two weeks now he still haven't had a lot of chances to practice.

But Ryuuen looks at him, his mind clearly whirling away and Kiyotaka can almost convince himself he sees the moment Ryuuen comes to a conclusion, and it's the correct one. "How many times?" he asks, and Kiyotaka has a bewildering moment where he's not sure what the question refers to.

"You told me four loops ago," he settles on and hopes that that's the correct answer.

"So how's the plan going?" Ryuuen asks, his eyes beginning to sparkle.

Kiyotaka shrugs and says, "The process of elimination will take some time."

"Naturally," Ryuuen nods. He starts walking and says, "You can tell me everything over breakfast."

Kiyotaka sees no reason to refuse. He follows the teenager all the way to the cafeteria where Ryuuen claims a large table for them and splays out, ignoring the annoyed looks of the other people also awake at this early hour. They eat the breakfast in silence, despite what Ryuuen said, and then when all the food is gone, Kiyotaka goes on to explain what's been happening so far.

"If they're panicking because you're working on a solution, you'll probably die again soon," Ryuuen says. He doesn't sound particularly bothered by it, his tone more contemplating in nature.

"Yes," Kiyotaka agrees, because the books say you're supposed to keep the conversation going.

Ryuuen grins. It makes him look wilder, his energy almost blazing off him. If this was an anime, Kiyotaka imagines he would be surrounded by light and the music would be swelling. As it is, that thing inside him perks up and he feels himself sitting straighter in his seat in response.

He wonders if this is what making friends feel like. If this lightness spreading inside him, if this excitement building within him, is what normal people feel in these situations. He wonders if he might be on his way to succeeding in one of his own self-appointed goals, if he might succeed with Ryuuen where he failed with Horikita.

But he doesn't rush the answers. It's important to not push too harshly, he knows. Friendships will form naturally when people have things in common and so all—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He's wheezing as he wakes up, his breath rattling in his chest. He feels startled, confused. Like he was falling in his dream and woke up the instant he hit the ground.

He forces his body back under his control and waits until the shaking has stopped. Then he swings his legs over the edge and stands up, walking toward the window. He glances outside, down toward the ground. After a second, he opens the window—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His mouth feel full of cotton as he returns to the waking world, his heart still beating a mile a minute. He's confused for the barest of seconds before he recalled how he ended up here, how he shook himself awake. It felt like he was falling in a dream, and he woke up when he hit the ground.

It's interesting, though. Interesting that he can't kill himself, that when he was on the edge of trying, he was instead crushed by his bookcase before he could go through with it. And he doesn't think a single bookcase should have been able to to kill him so easily either, but this loop clearly isn't governed by logic.

As soon as he's wearing proper clothes (he doesn't want to cause a commotion by going out in his sleepwear) Kiyotaka is out the door. It will take quite a lot of loops for his process to give him some answers and in the meanwhile, he's decided to take shameless advantage of this situation. He's overheard the guys in his class talking, and he's under the impression that it's what anyone normal—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His eyes snap open, awareness rushing back to him in an uncomfortable instant. It's like falling in a dream and waking up when you hit the ground, he thinks. So sudden it's jarring and for a second, he doesn't know what's happening.

The knowledge returns him in one piece instead of scattered pieces and it's appreciated. He stands—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

It feels like his heart is in his throat as he trashes to wakefulness, his eyes already searching for a threat. Like falling, he thinks, and waking up the instant you hit the ground. He forces his breaths under control, forces himself to calm down and take stock of the situation. It's important—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Blinking blearily up at the ceiling, his hand shoots out for his phone. His heartbeat is still racing in his chest, the sensation not unlike falling in a dream, only to wake up the instant you hit the ground. It's an unnerving feeling and when he checks the clock, nothing's—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

The waking is too sudden, the rush of awareness too raw. He feels like he was falling in a dream, only to wake up the instant—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His heart hammers in his chest as he breathes himself alive, his blood rushing in his ears. Like falling, he thinks, and waking—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He blinks himself awake, lying still for a moment before he reaches out for his phone. It felt like he was falling—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

The room is uncomfortably bright when he squints his eyes open. His heart is beating—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He stares up at the ceiling as he waits for his breaths—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

There's a heaviness in his chest—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

His head is spinning—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

For a moment—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He feels—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

It's—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's—

Kiyotaka dies, and—

Kiyotaka dies—

Kiyotaka—

Kiyo—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

Or, well, it would be. If things were normal, that would be the end of the story. But he dies, dies, dies, and—wakes up.

Shakes himself awake, really. His heartbeat is thundering in his ears as he blinks up at the ceiling, the sunlight hitting his eyes causing him to frown. He lays still for a moment, simply waiting. When nothing immediate happens, he heaves himself up and out of the bed.

Brushing a hand through his hair, he hums. So far, he thinks the progress has been steady and more than good enough. He's eliminated enough options that he's fairly certain at this point what the answer is. It's a relief, having a more concrete resolution to this problem. It makes his shoulders lighter, the weight of not having a solution leaving him.

He goes through the motions of getting ready, pulls on his school uniform and leaves his room. He takes the elevator down to the ground level and heads outside, raising a hand to protect himself from the sun's rays.

Ryuuen is right where he expects him to be, slowly stalking down the road. Kiyotaka speeds up slightly, catching up soon enough. As soon as he's within hearing range, he says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of."

Ryuuen spins on his heel and demands, "Don't say another word."

Kiyotaka doesn't. He simply waits for Ryuuen to go through all the options and narrow down the possibilities of what's happening, waits for him to say something.

Like always, Ryuuen doesn't disappoint.

"One of these days, I'll take that as a threat and punch you," Ryuuen declares, but he's already moving into step with him.

Kiyotaka only says, "You haven't so far."

Ryuuen clicks his tongue. He doesn't say anything else and they go to the cafeteria in a comfortable silence. They hardly meet any other students on the road and once in the cafeteria, Ryuuen lays claim to a table without regards for the other early risers who were on their way to it. Kiyotaka follows and sits down with his meal.

"You know what's up yet?" Ryuuen asks when they've finished eating.

"Yes," Kiyotaka says. "Surviving the whole day should do the trick. It's not enough to survive until night, so I think it's twenty-four hours."

Ryuuen nods. The fact that he accepts all this without any hint of hesitation is always something that makes Kiyotaka stop in his tracks in every loop. Ryuuen is too smart and he's too calculating and too good at finding the answers. The way he catches every hint Kiyotaka lays out, the way he finds the answers to questions Kiyotaka never voices... this is a very dangerous man.

Out of everyone at this school, Kiyotaka is now certain that Ryuuen is the most dangerous. It's Ryuuen he'll need to look out for when the school starts their testing. It's Ryuuen he'll have to be careful of.

Others too, of course. But Ryuuen is the one that thinks most like Kiyotaka, that can follow Kiyotaka's line of thinking the easiest. Thus, he is the greatest threat.

"My place or yours?" Ryuuen asks, like it's a forgone conclusion.

"Yours."

They go back to Ryuuen's place, just barely managing to avoid the falling statue and the slippery stairs, and the falling flowerpots. Kiyotaka knows what to do look out for, knows how to keep his perceptions open for danger. But it still takes a toll, the constant—

Kiyotaka dies, and that's that.

He shoots out of the bed as quickly as he can, ignoring his heartbeat slowing down. He rushes through the motions of getting ready and hurries down the stairs, sliding around corners quicker than is safe. He reaches the spot where he always meets Ryuuen and it's empty. Checking his phone, he breathes out in relief and waits.

Ryuuen comes along on the road soon enough. Kiyotaka has a plan now, and so he walks right up to the other teenager, says, "You think pandas are super cute but if I tell anyone else, you'll have me disposed of," and grabs ahold of Ryuuen's hand, already pulling him back to the dorms.

The fact that Ryuuen just lets him pull him along, follows without saying a word, makes Kiyotaka's stomach tingle. It feels a little like bugs are crawling inside it, trying to force their way up his throat. It's an unsettling feeling, but it doesn't feel bad exactly.

"You have a plan?" Ryuuen asks as they're making their way up the stairs.

"Yes," Kiyotaka answers, still holding onto that hand. It's what saves him when the handrail rips out of its sockets and almost takes him with it, so he congratulates himself for his great decision-making skills.

They're in front of Ryuuen's door when Ryuuen says, "If this is a prank, I'll ruin you."

"Not a prank."

Ryuuen locks the door behind them, and Kiyotaka walks further into the room. He looks around and decides that yes, his plan will probably work. The lamp isn't over the empty patch of nothing in the middle of the room either, so that works out really well. There are no furniture that can crush him if he's there, either.

So Kiyotaka walks into the middle of the room and sits down on the carpet.

After a second, Ryuuen joins him on the floor. He crosses his legs and stares at Kiyotaka with a gaze that he can't unravel. "Do you plan to just sit here?" Ryuuen asks after a while, still staring. He's frowning slightly, his eyebrows furrowed as his mind works.

"Yes," Kiyotaka answers, because he does.

If all he has to do is just survive twenty-four hours, then this is a good a place as any to wait for the clock to tick down. He's thrown away his phone so there's no chance of getting electrocuted, and now it's just a matter of waiting.

"Alright," Ryuuen says.

After about half-an-hour of staring at Kiyotaka, Ryuuen leaves. He comes back with food but Kiyotaka declines it so that he can't choke on it (he did that already, but he's not taking any chances now). Ryuuen only shrugs and eats his own meal in silence. When it's gone, he takes out the trash and then returns again.

"Want a book?" Ryuuen asks eventually.

Kiyotaka shakes his head. "Paper-cuts," he says in response at the questioning look he gets.

Ryuuen goes back to staring again. Kiyotaka doesn't know what he's looking for or what he's finding, but he finds that he doesn't mind it. Ryuuen's gaze is... intense and overwhelming but somehow in a good way. It makes the tingling in his stomach worse, but it never crosses the line into painful.

The hours pass agonizingly slowly, now that he's finally on the cusp of a solution.

Kiyotaka lets his mind flow, lets it wander wherever it will. He makes no effort to control it, no effort to steer its path. It makes the time go slightly faster, if his mind is already running full-steam ahead and veering into paths unknown.

After a while, Ryuuen switches so that he's sitting beside Kiyotaka. He has a textbook in his hands and is slowly going through it with a pencil, writing notes in the margins.

It's quiet and it's peaceful and it's exactly what Kiyotaka wanted when he made the decision to come to this school.

He eyes the other teenager; the way he sits with his back straight and his legs splayed out wildly, with no regards for others. The way his eyes narrow as he concentrates, the way he writes notes that are barely more than scribbles and yet succinctly sums up the information. Ryuuen is handsome, too, the kind of handsome that makes him look kind of like a dick.

The hours wile away slowly, but they do pass and eventually it's night again. The rooms are soundproof enough that he can't hear what's going on outside, and it's all the better.

Ryuuen looks at the clock and rises to his feet, asking, "Going to sleep?" while he's digging through the closet.

"No," answers Kiyotaka. It's better if he doesn't. It's better if he stays here.

"Okay." Ryuuen says, "Wake me up if you're still alive tomorrow."

Kiyotaka nods. He watches as Ryuuen gets ready for bed, as he changes into sleepwear. He was right, Ryuuen is very clearly well-trained and in good shape. He disappears for a bit into the bathroom but comes back soon enough, and then crawls under the covers while yawning. He turns off the lights, and Kiyotaka looks away from the lump on the bed.

And then he waits.

Waits, waits, waits.

The clock ticks. Moonlight seeps through the windows. Furniture rattles like it's trying to fall, but never does. It wouldn't reach him anyway and he suspects that whoever's behind this knows that. Clouds block the moonlight for a while but soon enough it's back. Kiyotaka stays sitting, waiting quietly in the darkness.

The sun slowly rises over the horizon. Light seeps in through the window, the curtains utterly failing at blocking it. He doesn't move. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

It's nearly cruel, how leisurely time passes.

But he waits, and eventually...

Eventually, it's seven in the morning on a Monday, more than twenty-four hours after he woke up this morning. His stomach is grumbling, having been devoid of food for too long. His mouth is dry—he hadn't drunk anything yesterday to ensure he wouldn't drown.

Ryuuen's alarm rattles alive on the bedside table, and the other teenager grumbles on the bed. An arm pokes out of the lump and waves in the air until it finds the alarm clock and crashes down onto it with extreme prejudice.

It's Monday, and Kiyotaka is still alive.

quillpunk: literally nothing. something went wrong and now it's literally nothing. (thingy)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Dragons
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 555
  • Published on AO3: 2021-05-19

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


The dragon is made of gold. Or no, Kuei realizes a breathless moment later. It's gold, the color shining in the evening sunlight, but it's not made of it. It sparkles too much, the light catching the scales and bouncing off, but it only looks to be made of gold. It is, though, an actual flesh and bone dragon. And it's right outside his window.

Kuei licks his lips. "Hello," he offers, his voice sounding weak and trembling even to his own ears.

The dragon snorts, smoke coming from its large nostrils. Kuei never thought he'd ever see nostrils so big, but they're unexpectedly beautiful. "Hello," the dragon answers in a deep rumbling voice and Keui sits up straighter on the windowsill, delight coursing through him.

It's a dragon! How can he not be mesmerized?

"I'm Kuei," he says, leaning his head forward to see more of the dragon. The window is too small, and it limits his sight too much.

He's not entirely certain how he came to be in a room with a dragon—he was having dinner with Long Feng, and that's where his memory stops. But Long Feng must have been the one to bring him here; the Dai Li wouldn't let anything happen to him. So surely, the dragon is a good person. Otherwise, Long Feng wouldn't have left him here.

After a moment, the dragon shakes his head and says, "I'm Zuko."

Kuei beams, sunlight unfurling in his stomach. "It's very nice to meet you, Zuko! I hope you don't think me rude, but were you here when I was brought here? And do you happen to know if any of my scrolls made the journey with me? For that matter, do you know where we are?"

A lazy eye blinks at him, the skin around it burned. Kuei wonders what can possibly burn hot enough to cause that kind of damage in a dragon, but he knows enough of the Fire Nation's dragon purges to know he shouldn't ask. It's probably a painful subject, and he doesn't want to scare off his new friend. Kuei has so little of them; they always vanish eventually, no matter how tightly he tries to hold on.

"I was here," Zuko the dragon finally says. Smoke curls from its mouth as it speaks, the voice nearly burning in its roughness. "A cart made the journey with you, I know not of any scrolls. And I do not know where we are."

"Thank you," Kuei says. He switches position so that he sits with his legs crossed and facing the dragon. It's a shame the sun is setting, it means that he can't see the entirety of the gloriousness in front of him.

The dragon is big. Not as big as he's read they can grow, but still undeniably a giant. It keeps him from seeing the view and trying to determine his location by landmarks, but he doesn't much care about that anyway. How could he, when there's an actual, live dragon right in front of him. In the light of that, it doesn't much matter that he made no plans to come here, doesn't know where he is, or where Long Feng went.

Those are questions that can be answered later. Right now, he just wants to know more about Zuko.

quillpunk: screenshot of Judith (she's blushing to a flowering, rosy background) from the webcomic The Villainess Flips the Script (judith2)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, Sugar Daddy Kuei, Established Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 554
  • Published on AO3: 2021-06-18

Notes: For Monthly KuZu Mini-Prompts, 2021: May - Sugar Daddy

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Zuko squirms below Kuei's gaze. His eyes are trapped by the gift in his hands and Kuei forces down the urge to squirm as well. They're in his office, waiting for his advisors to arrive so they can finish planing their tactic for the upcoming diplomatic visit with the Fire Nation. But the advisors aren't here yet and they've been so busy lately, running to and fro. It seems like every time they turn around, there's a new problem to be dealt with.

Not right now, though.

Right now, it's quiet.

"You didn't have to," Zuko says, his gold eyes still not moving from the gift-wrapped package in his hands.

Kuei shakes his head, "It's a trinket, not a hardship. Please accept it, Zuko."

Wetting his lips, Zuko looks up. He's already wearing lots of Kuei's "trinkets", bracelets, necklaces, earrings... not to mention his clothes. But Kuei had nothing to do with the clothes, that was the advisors' unified decision! They thought it'd look better if Zuko incorporated some of the more Earth Kingdom fashions into his clothing, just so that it would be clear where his loyalty stood.

Kuei has never doubted it. Not since he first met Zuko in that teashop, flitting from table to table like a beautiful butterfly—a deadly one. But still absolutely breathtaking, perhaps even more so because of it.

Zuko opens the gift. The red wrapping is uneven and odd; Kuei isn't used to doing it. But he wanted to give his beloved a proper gift before they're swept up in formalities and bureaucracy and such things will be inadvisable. More important things require their attention. (Kuei can't fathom how anything could be more important than making Zuko happy, and trinkets like these, no matter how useless they are, always seem to at least make him happier.)

He keeps his hands steady on his lap as he waits for Zuko's reaction. It doesn't take long; it starts with a small widening of the eyes. Then he licks his lips again. He tilts his head to the side, his long hair falling over his shoulder and Kuei's eyes are inevitably drawn to the myriad of earrings decorating both of Zuko's ears. Long ones that almost reach his shoulders, short ones that are mere bulbs. All of them are gold. All of them draw Kuei's gaze once more to Zuko's expressive eyes.

"Where did you..." Zuko looks up at Kuei, his eyes brightening bit by bit.

Kuei shrugs. "A swordsmith to the south," he says, unable to continue meeting those eyes. They are too much; too bright and bold and alive and happy. They make his stomach do flips, make him unable to breathe.

How can anyone look at Zuko and not lose their breath?

Zuko smiles, softly, gently, and it's like the sunlight on a clear day, the sun roaming free of the clouds. Kuei leans forward before he can think, just wants to sit here and bask in that light. Zuko, who is kind and beautiful and the greatest person to have ever lived, simply leans forward the tiny bit of distance between them—perched as he is on Kuei's desk—and presses his mouth gently to Kuei's own. It's a caress, a soft motion that is too quick to truly feel.

Kuei's heart skips a beat.

quillpunk: screenshot of Aaravos (who is smirking in full evil mode) from The Dragon Prince cartoon (aaravos1)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, AU - Fairy Tale
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 3008
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-16

Notes: For KuZu Week 2021: Day 2 - Horror

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


There is a monster in a palace, and no one ever goes there.

Zuko hears about it for the first time when he's in the upper ring after his uncle's teashop has just been opened. The customers—dressed far more extravagantly than those in the lower rings—mill between the tables, gossiping loudly about whatever stupid things they can. There is no silence here; only the incessant talk of sharp tongues judging far more than they have a right to. They talk and they laugh and they point and they forget entirely about Zuko's existence, speaking as if he is not there. It makes his blood boil, makes his fists clench.

But it also lets him hear far more inside knowledge of Ba Sing Se than he has since they arrived in this accursed city. Like the story of the monster.

They say there is a monster in the palace, and no one ever goes there.

Zuko's blood is boiling, his expression thinning and his eyes darkening the more stupid things he hears. He doesn't believe them—why would there be a monster in the Earth King's palace? Such a thing would never be allowed to stand. If his father knew even he would do something about it because it undermines his authority. If he learned that the city the Fire Nation has repeatedly failed to conquer has a monster walking its palace halls, he would be enraged.

But they keep talking about it, whispering about it under breaths too loud. Over and over again, from a dozen different people, he hears the tale. The tale of how the monster was cursed for his arrogance, for his folly, for his ignorance. The monster is cursed, they say, and so can not leave the palace.

This means the only way for Zuko to find out the truth is for him to go there. Go to the palace and see for himself.

(It can't be true, but. But it doesn't hurt to check.)

Going in the middle of the night is the obvious choice. Sneaking away from his uncle is both harder and easier than anticipated; he goes when the older man is sleeping and is terrified with every snore he hears that he'll awaken and see what Zuko is doing. But he just wants to know. There is no monster in the palace, there can not possibly be. But nobody speaks of the Earth King, and he wonders.

Something is wrong with this city, he knows. Ba Sing Se is a sinkhole of miasma, a trap that locks you in and won't ever let you go. Zuko has seen shadows leaping over rooftops, had customers mysteriously vanish and no one ever speaks of it. There is something wrong, and he thinks... the palace might hold some answers.

So he breaks in.

It's actually not that hard? Zuko has broken into harder places, has barely gotten away with his life on some occasions. Compared to those times, the Earth King's palace is a cakewalk. And once he's in, he simply follows the hallways.

They're long, these hallways. Wide, too, with high ceilings and murals on the walls. Zuko is almost tempted to stop to get a good look but he doesn't want to be here another second longer than he has to. He's simply going to find this monster, and he knows the best place of the palace to check is the middle.

The middle, where the floors are covered by dust, where the drapes have been consumed by spiderwebs.

Zuko walks on eggshells, his body wound tighter the further he goes. His mouth dries, seeing the claw-marks on the floor, the walls, the windows. Licking his lips does nothing, his flame burning hot inside him. The marks are too high, too low, too wide and inconsistent in size. Like whatever made them was playing, almost. The spiderwebs are old and deep, poison dripping from them and acid eating into the floor below. The dust is suffocating; unending, squeezing its way into his nostrils and attemtping to strangle him.

He pinches his nose shut to hold off a sneeze. Shaking his head slilgthly, he sheathes his sword and climbs a pillar to get to higher ground.

There can't possibly be a monster in the palace, but an animal is not unreasonable. Although, why an animal would be allowed to run free in here to the extent they'd even cut off all normal accesses to this part of the palace... this, he can't know. So higher ground it is.

After much trawling through the spiderwebs and dust, thoroughly ruining his uniform, Zuko finally reaches an end to his journey.

There is light up ahead, just a weak, splintering thing flickering weakly in the wind. Zuko stops on the beam he's sitting on, gazing down to the door only partly cracked open and the light beyond it. He strains his hearing, but is only met by silence.

He hasn't seen a single person since he reached this part of the palace. Hasn't had to hide from Dai Li agents, hasn't had to avoid the gazes of the servants. There is only the nearly unnoticable sound of his own footsteps, the sound of his own breathing, joining him here. He is alone. But there is a light up ahead that he can see flicker and there is door not even fully shut, and there are animal tracks in the dust leading to it.

Tracks he doesn't recognize, but that are unedniably non-human. Something is in there. Something that can make light. And Zuko is a fool of the highest order, a fool who feels curiosity stir in his gut instead of trepidation.

There is something in there.

He drops to the floor, his feet striking it silently. For a second he waits, his brow furrowed as he listens for a reaction to his presence. There is none. And so he recalls all his training in walking without making a sound as he approaches the door, keeping his breathing light and steady. At the door, he gently curls his fingers around the door's edge and holds his breath. Nothing happens. He pushes at the door, frowning and lying his weight on it when it refuses to budge.

Finally, the door opens enough for him to slip through. He exhales softly and creeps through, his eyes immediately gluing themselves to the candlelight. It's a single candle on a table by the wall, a wick steadily burning down. It flickers from the gust of wind moving the door produces and he winces.

He eyes the rest of the room. It's a bedroom, he quickly realizes. The bed in the middle of the room is comically wide; green curtains covering it entirely. He can't see if there's someone inside, but the tracks lead right to it.

There is less dust on the floor in here, but the spiderwebs are in every corner still. Zuko walks up to the candle and studies it for a moment, but can't find anything strange with it. It's an ordinary candle, the common design that Ba Sing Se favors. The walls are covered by a layer of dust and grime so thick that he can't make out the pattern it, but he vaguely makes out the gold color buried beneath it. All the furniture is big and stately, the chairs uncommonly wide.

Zuko turns to the bed.

It's stupid. His uncle would never approve. His sister would laugh at him. His father would—not do anything good. But Zuko got this far and he wonders.

(There is a monster in the palace, they say, and no-one ever goes there.)

Zuko's fingers grip the curtains, and he shivers at how cold they are. His eyes narrow, his tongue licking his lips. He inhales sharply and—pulls the curtain back.

"Oh," he breathes, his hands falling to his sides. "How—" he mutters to himself, taking a step closer. His knees hit the bed's edge with a soft thud and he climbs on, crawling up until he's sitting on a threadbare pillow next to the monster's head.

Sitting still with his hands digging into the meat of his thighs, he stares at it. In silence, the seconds ticking on like a clock in his head. The monster breathes softly, splayed out widely on the bed with its large limbs thrown in every conceivable direction. The head alone must be twice the size of Zuko's, and the rest of the monster is likewise bigger than him.

It explains the bed's size, at least.

The dark fur is thick and covers every inch of it. The light in the bed is weak and the candle does no good where it is and this is a monster anyway. And Zuko wants to be able to see it properly but he fears walking away will reveal this all to be a dream. And this is a monster. No-one will believe it if it tries to rat him out.

A spark lights up right above his palm; a small light still casting a much better view than the candlelight. It doesn't flicker, because something small as this is something he could do in his sleep.

He holds the light up to the monster's face, leaning over it to get a better view. Like this, he can see the gigantic eyes and the eyelids with its thin fuzz of fur covering them. Can see the monster's chest move in time with its breaths. When he counts them he frowns—they're too slow. A normal human breathes twice as fast as that, even when they're just sleeping. With every widening, he scoots even closer, holding the light up above the monster to see better.

Despite everything, the monster looks humanoid. It has two limbs resembling arms—there's even an elbow joint. Two legs with flat feet and ten toes in total, the normal five fingers on each hand. The tusks in its mouth are a little unsettling, yes, but Zuko has seen a lot of things in his life. He's not going to flinch at just this.

For a couple of minutes more, all he does is study the monster. It twitches occasionally, turning over and switching positions but it's easy enough to get out of its way. He watches sedately as it moves, watches it burrow deeper under ratty covers in search of warmth. Its breaths are like tiny growls, the sound reverbating through its chest cavity. Zuko stares, his eyes wide and unable to switch directions.

It feels like a dream.

All of this. The spiderwebs, the dust, the clawmarks matching the sharp claws this monster has on its feet and hands. The dig into the sheets as he watches, tearing holes that are only a few among many. The candlelight that lured him here, the whispering of the public as they gossip of things they have too much knowledge of. The wind beating through the long, lonely corrdors, the shadows seeping in through the cracks in the paint. It is a dream, Zuko thinks. It doesn't match everything else he knows about the Earth Kingdom, about Ba Sing Se, and so it cannot be real. Something like this can not be real.

It puffs out a breath and Zuko follows. He sits back on his hunches and curl in on himself, the light easing into something weaker. Something that'll attract less attention if somebody were to happen to come by. And just for safety's sake, he pulls the curtains shut around the bed like they were when he arrived.

Like this, it's like they're in a bubble, a world of their own.

Zuko gulps, the sound loud in the silence.

He pulls his hand (and his fire) back from the monster. Instead, he crosses his legs and wonders what time it is. Wonders if uncle has discovered that Zuko's missing yet. Wonders if the guards have found the entrance he used. Wonders if the Dai Li has seen his tracks in the dust.

Wonders.

The monster turns over again, facing Zuko this time. Zuko only looks at it, his heart beating too fast for him to process anything.

There is a monster in the palace, they say. And no-one ever goes there.

The monster's eyes blink open. Zuko can't read its face, but it stares at him with constantly widening eyes. (The eyes, too, are at least twice as big as Zuko's.) "Who?" a hoarse voice croaks, the sound half-a-growl.

"Zuko," he answers, waiting for the monster to attack him. Zuko can beat it, he knows. He's faught the Avatar, he's not going to get beaten by some monster in Ba Sing Se of all places. That's not how he'll die.

The monster shoots up, looming over him. "You're Zuko? I'm Kuei!" Then the eyelids lower and it peeks at him with a disturbingly human gaze. "But what are you doing here? People aren't allowed here."

"I broke in," Zuko confesses.

The monster gasps and leans away from him, the clawed hands coming up between them like preparing for a fight. Zuko eyes the claws, his hand slowly inching toward his sword's sheathe. He's not going to die here, in Ba Sing Se. Not going to allow himself to die on foreign soil, still unwelcome at his home. No, Zuko is going home. Uncle might be content to waste away here, but Zuko isn't going to be forgotten in another country, abandoned by his own nation.

He's going home.

"They say there is a monster in the palace," Zuko says, glaring at the monster with narrowed eyes. The monster rears back, as if struck. Zuko contiunes, "Are you the monster they speak of?"

Kuei (the monster who sleeps alone in an abandoned wing, who walks through the halls with claws leaving tracks on the wall; the only proof of its existence) swallows audibly. "I do not know of what they speak," it points out, strangely reasonable for an inhuman monster.

"A monster is in the palace," Zuko repeats. He leans forward, glaring at the beast. "A monster that should not be here, that doesn't belong. A monster who no-one ever wants to see. Are you that monster?"

Kuei licks his lips, his long tongue catching on his tusks. "No," he breathes, lowering his gaze to the linnen. "That's not me."

Zuko nods. He pulls his sword out of its sheathe and holds it out. (He's not going to die here. Not going to be trapped in the fog Ba Sing Se is buried in, not going to be caught and lead to his uncle's (his only family now) death. He won't allow it.

There is a monster in the palace, they say.

And no-one ever goes there.)

"Let's find a beast," Zuko says and presses the sword into Kuei's hand.

Kuei's fingers slowly clsoe around it and he looks at Zuko with soft, soft eyes. Eyes that are watering, and it sniffles and turns away and brushes its hand over the eyes. "Why?" it asks, the voice gentle.

Zuko thinks of his father, thinks of the palace he was cast out of, thinks of the pain he's caused his uncle. Thinks of the damage he's brought to everyone he's ever loved, and the damage everyone who's ever loved him has caused him. Thinks of his father's hand burning him, and no-one stopping it. Thinks of the look in his uncle's eyes when Zuko asked, shortly after they set out to sea, why Iroh didn't help him earlier.

Before all this.

Thinks, and doesn't say.

"Some monsters don't leave tracks of clawmarks," he says instead. Zuko's hand swings by his face and he fingers his now short hair. He's gotten used to it, he supposes. (But that just makes it worse.) Zuko wets his lips and continues, ignoring Kuei's intense gaze on him, "Some monsters are too high to reach, and so you must drag them down to you in order to kill them."

Kuei closes its eyes. Zuko turns away, not wanting to upset it. He just gave it one of his swords, after all. And while he can fight just fine with only one sword, he doesn't want to risk making too much of a commotion. What if the Dai Li hears? What if they come running and find Zuko at the heart of the Earth King's palace? What if they see and they realize and they catch him? No, he can't risk that.

"Long Feng..." Kuei starts, voice breaking in the middle. It takes a deep breath and visibly forces out, "Long Feng won't let me out."

Zuko smirks, trying to channel Azula. "I got in, didn't I?" he points out, gazing back at the monster. The monster who startles, who jumps, who squints at him and stares at him. There were only animal marks on the way here, Zuko remembers. No hint of any human presence.

How long...

"Okay," Kuei says. It takes the sword out of the sheathe, just a tiny bit, and stares with unblinking eyes at the shinig metal. It swallows and says in a heavy voice, barely more than a mumble, "I am Kuei, King of the Earth Kingdom. And I will slay a monster evil. I will set my kingdom free."

Zuko doesn't say anything. He merely pulls his other sword out and twirls it through the air while he waits for Kuei to get his emotions under control. For Kuei to lead him out of here.

He doesn't remember much about Kuei, even though he knows he learned about him as a child. It was part of his duty, to know the rulers of the enemy nation. So he was taught about Kuei and his early rise to the throne after his parents' unfortunate deaths. But it was so long ago, and Kuei hasn't been relevant in years. The knowledge sits heavy in his stomach now, the reason why. His hand clench around his sword and he frowns, a glare in his eyes.

There is a monster in the palace.

quillpunk: screenshot of langa from SK8, with a very weirded out expression (langa6)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M
  • Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
  • Relationship: Zuko/Kuei
  • Characters: Zuko, Kuei
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1047
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-17

Notes: For KuZu Week 2021: Day 2 - Horror

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Overwhelming.

That was the only way to describe the presence blanketing all of Zuko's senses. Overwhelming. Overpowering. Drowning him in sensations and feelings that weren't even his. It beat up against his heart, pounding in a rhythm that he could almost convince himself was his own. It drifted through his veins, seeking out his every organ and nestling in it like a parasite looking for a place to make a home. Over and over again, the feeling surrounded him.

"Are you okay?" Kuei asked, his voice anxious as a mouth formed in the shadow beside his head. The mouth on his face hadn't moved.

Zuko took a deep breath and let his fire move through him, burning the shadows to a crisp. Kuei shuddered, his mouths snapping closed. Zuko said, "I'm fine," and he even meant it.

Sure, it was strange that instead of getting killed for breaking into the Earth King's palace and finding that the Earth King was some kind of spirit, he was dragged to the library and spent a couple of pleasant hours studying about the Avatar. But it hadn't done him any harm, and this was his fifth visit to the palace. Sometimes he wondered why Kuei kept welcoming him back, beaming at him every time he appeared, but he also didn't want to change it.

It was nice, reading in the library.

Even though Kuei was a literal monster that had eaten Long Feng when the man attempted to brainwash Zuko, it was still nice.

Eyes blinked at Zuko from the corners of the library, staring at him from every possible angle. Zuko was used to this by now, and so he merely waved at them. The eyes widened and the internal light coming from them shone brighter. At least with eyes that bright, one barely needed lamps to read.

"Good, good," Kuei bobbed his head and it fell off his neck, tumbling to the floor as Kuei's arms flailed in the air, trying to catch it and failing epically. The monster in human skin—literally—cursed softly and picked up the head, a new one already forming on his neck. The old one crumbled into dust, falling apart in Kuei's hands. Zuko winced a little, not quite used to that yet.

Kuei stared at his empty hands for a minute, frowning, before he snapped his new head around to look at Zuko. He blinked, then grinned. "I'm glad you came back," he said, walking over to sit next to Zuko on the floor. Zuko pointed to the cushion before Kuei sat on the stone floor again, and Kuei immediately changed tracks to sit on it.

"I told you I would," Zuko frowned.

Kuei nodded, his head staying on this time. "Yes, but... a lot of people say they'll come back." Unspoken went but no-one ever does.

A mouth bit down on Zuko's swords, and he irritably slapped it away. Kuei didn't react—Zuko was half-convinced that he barely knew what his own body parts were doing. Evey stared at him from shadows, mouth forming out of them to whisper words he couldn't understand in a language he didn't know. The darkness around them soared, hiding them away between shelves and scrolls and old memories of lives long-since forgotten.

Zuko breathed in the scent of ink and paper that always seemed to linger around Kuei. The air around the man twisted, reality seamlessly bending to Kuei's will. A table made of shadows popped into existence in front of them, and Kuei gestured to it. Zuko, already knowing what the man wanted, placed his scroll on it so he could read easier.

Kuei scooted closer with every passing minute until he was sitting with his side touching Zuko's. Zuko didn't move, didn't twitch away from the cold or the sudden knowledge that he was buried fifteen meters underground and was slowly suffocating to death. Instead he stayed still, allowing his fire to burn brighter, hotter, until smoke was leaving his lips in time with his breaths.

"How is your uncle?" asked Kuei, sometime later.

Zuko took a moment to register that he was being spoken to, and then another moment to recognize what had been said. He looked up from his scroll and to Kuei—dispropriate body and all. "Yes," he said, "He's enjoying his new teashop."

Kuei smiled at him, his thousand eyes glittering with joy. The mass of existence that was probably supposed to be Kuei ended below his chest now, fusing into the shadows surrounding them. A void existed there instead, a lack of existence that made Zuko's head hurt. He forced his eyes away, rubbing them slightly to stop the spots of darkness from eating up his vision.

"I'm glad," said Kuei.

Zuko smiled at him, his smoke smelling like burned charcoal.

There was no-one else near them. The area around the library was always abandoned when Zuko came to visit, always left to rot on its own. And it was rotting, he was sure. The scrolls and books and bookshelves were losing form, bleeding shadows and ink staining the floor. Dark plants ate their way into the foundation of the stone, shadows settling into the cracks like spiders. The darkness ate up all light, every candle useless in here. Zuko's firebending was the only reason that he could read in here at all.

He allowed the shadows to embrace him, allowed them to hug him until he looked as black as any other shadow in here. When he looked at his own hand, he could scarcely see it. Ignoirng the unconscious beat of instinctive fear that nearly swallowed him whole.

Kuei's hand curled around his, their fingers slotting naturally together. The fear eased back into something more manageable—Zuko had always been very good at ignoring his instincts. At ignoring the voice in his head telling him that he was making a mistake, insisting he would regret it. It was easy enough to push those voices aside now, too, easy enough to curl into Kuei's darkness and let his fire breathe freely through them. Easy enough to smile, and turn and trust that Kuei wouldn't hurt him.

Zuko had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he didn't think that this was one of them.

quillpunk: screenshot of adam's face in full costume from SK8 (adam)
[personal profile] quillpunk
  • Rating: T
  • Categories: M/M, Gen
  • Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
  • Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
  • Characters: Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle | Voldemort
  • Additional Tags: Ficlet, First Meetings, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Pirates
  • Status: Complete
  • Wordcount: 1200
  • Published on AO3: 2021-08-26

Notes: KuZu Week 2021: Day 5 - Pirates

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or any associated trademarks.


Here, something in the air seems to say. Look over here. And Kuei is but a man—a starving man most of these days—and he is not infallible. Sometimes he bends to the whispers on the wind, throws his hands out to catch the flutter of fate's wings. Sometimes he turns, and he holds his hand above his eyes as he squints into the wind. Sometimes he stops on his path, turns away from the road he'd been walking, and changes directions.

Sometimes, Kuei breaks from his self-imposed promise to stay away from the big Earth Kingdom cities, the ones where someone high enough up the ladder might be able to recognize him.

Nobody has so far.

It's a slightly smaller city this time, but still big. It's surrounded by high walls, as most Earth cities are. Kuei has to stand in line for nearly half an hour to get in, showing his pass to the guard at the gate. After the wait, and the hours he's spent on his feet to get here, he heads right for the closest inn when he's inside. He hands the small bits of money he still has to the innkeeper and throws his meager possessions on the bed. Sighing, he heads to the bathroom to wash his face.

He doesn't know what he's doing here. There is nothing for him here; nothing but a golden cage should he be recognized. Long Feng is smart—he would never make the same mistake twice. And it still took years for Kuei to figure out a way to escape, years for his plan to come to fruition. If he's caught... he doesn't think he'll be able to get out again.

But the Avatar has returned to the world and Kuei dare not ignore whispers on the wind. And so he rents a room for a full week. And so he unpacks his things and stays.

A day later, a ship sails into port. There is nothing remarkable about it, except for how utterly unremarkable it is. There is a worn-down flag flying high on the mast, a crew of average-looking but strong men anchoring the ship in the harbor. Nobody reacts to the ship; nobody swerves around it, tries to avoid or ignore it. Some people greet the shipmates and some others arrange accommodations for the crew. It's all perfectly normal stuff, if one ignores the fact that the Dragon of the West just stepped ashore.

Kuei has only seen drawings of him, but it's unmistakably the same man. This is Iroh, the older brother of the Fire Lord. This is Iroh, the man who nearly succeeded in conquering Kuei's home. This is Iroh, the man who smiles and laughs and throws his arm around a beautiful young man's shoulders.

This is Iroh, an omen of disaster.

Kuei swallows his tea and slouches a little further in his chair. He's lucky that the teashop's owner doesn't mind him sitting here for hours, taking advantage of the plentiful light to read scrolls he's picked up here and there. The inn doesn't have light like this and he lost his glasses a while back—they made him too recognizable. But it means he's left squinting down at the pages, his head only a few centimeters from it as he tries to decipher the words.

He's so busy squinting, in fact, that he misses the new people entering. Instead, Kuei thanks the old man for refilling his tea and shoves his nose closer to the page. The smell of dried ink and old paper meets him. It is not until his chair is knocked into and a sword hits his table that he jerks back and—is face-to-face with a young man.

A very pretty young man.

And—Kuei is weak. He was weak as a king and he is weak as a wandering scholar. (There is something flawed within him, something that bends instead of straightens.)

The man's long, shining black hair is swept up into a high tail, his left eye covered by a black eyepatch, the skin around it badly burnt. Gold earrings dangle from both ears, matching the gold of his uncovered eye. He's glaring, his eye looking past Kuei's shoulder at a simpering old woman.

Kuei gulps. He raises his hands and scoots his chair until it bangs against the wall. The pretty man clicks his tongue and moves past him.

"Do you think," pretty man hisses, his voice low and dark, dripping promises of wicked things. Kuei gulps again, his fingers clenching on the scroll. The pretty man continues, "that we'll let you walk all over us?"

The woman's eyes narrow and she squares her shoulders. "I'm your client," she says and Kuei's gaze shoots back to the man with the sword.

The sword is raised, pointing straight at the woman. He sneers, "Our clients pay us."

She stares. The sword doesn't waver. Her eyes glance at Kuei. Pretty man doesn't so much as twitch. Finally, she gathers herself up and glares at the man. "Fine," she bites out. Huffing, she leaves the teashop with heavy steps.

Kuei waits a minute, his eyes stuck on that sword, but finally, the man moves again.

"Sorry, uncle," pretty man says to someone behind Kuei and Kuei turns his head. Glances back over his shoulder. And sees Iroh—the Dragon of the West—smile cheerfully.

Kuei freezes.

"Not to worry, nephew," Iroh says kindly, eyes twinkling like he isn't a murderer.

The nephew, the pretty man, prince Zuko, puts away his sword and walks around Kuei's table to flop down on a chair next to Iroh. He spots Kuei; his eye narrows and he spits out, "What?"

Kuei startles. "I—" he looks around, trying to think of something inoffensive and innocuous to say. His mind draws a blank. "You're very pretty," is what comes out. Kuei should just throw himself into the ocean.

Zuko's mouth snaps shut. Iroh's eyes twinkle; the deadly old man laughing and patting his nephew's shoulder. Kuei's shoulders draw up and he slides deeper into the chair, his scroll making a loud crinkling role from his abuse of it. Zuko's staring right at him, his eye wide, and he's—so pretty. Kuei is weak, and stupid and this is why he's not a good king. This is why he can't protect his country. Because when met with a pretty face and a pretty body and pretty eyes and even pretty hair (how can hair be pretty???) he's lost. There is no battle to be won when one side never reaches the battlefield.

"I'm gonna go get our luggage settled," Iroh says to his nephew, his voice full of mirth. "Why don't you get to know this scholarly gentleman in the meanwhile?"

Zuko eyes his uncle distrustfully, but says, "Don't take too long," thus giving indirect confirmation.

Kuei gulps.

Iroh leaves with a jaunty wave and a cheerful tune, and Kuei watches as Zuko turns to him and frowns. Licking his lips, Kuei attempts to smile. Zuko's earrings move again, his gold eye staring at him with suspicion, and the hair slides over another shoulder and—Kuei is so, so lost.

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fanfiction by hoodwinked

November 2023

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