• 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.)

• 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.

• Rating: T
• Categories: M/M
• Fandom: Bleach
• Relationship: Aizen Sousuke/Kurosaki Ichigo
• Characters: Aizen Sousuke, Kurosaki Ichigo
• Additional Tags: Ficlet, Melancholy, AU - Post Apocalypse
• Status: Complete
• Wordcount: 527
• Series: Part 1 of LVDM Week
• Published on AO3: 2023-02-03

Notes: For the 100 Ships Challenge: #58 – Ash

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

The taste of ash sits heavy on his tongue, a weight curling around his mouth and clogging his nose. He sneezes, Ichigo's orange hair shifting in the wind, and he rubs his nose with a disgruntled noise. Watching the area for something moving, high up from the rooftop he's spent the night at, Ichigo's leg hangs over the edge and move with the wind.

The world is dark.

There are no streetlights, no lights in windows, no cars moving on the battered roads. It's been four years, and the world is dark, and Ichigo is still walking. There's a goal, somewhere in the back of his head, some kind of inevitabilty—a dream, a nightmare. Because he stayed in the house for months before he left and his sisters never came home, his father never dropped by. Ichigo doesn't know where they went, halfway hopes they never returned at all to find the house as empty as he did. He wonders; are they okay? Are they eating right? Are they getting medicine if they get sick?

Ichigo never has an answer.

Footsteps sound on the roof, the stalking pace he's become so familiar with, and he's entirely unsurprised when arms wrap around his waist. He leans his head back against a harsh shoulder, the bones poking into his skull, but doesn't move away from the pressure. "Contemplating the purpose of life?" asks Aizen Sousuke against his ear, breath tickling his skin.

"Always," says Ichigo. His eyelids flutter and when he breaths, smoke shivers in the air. He opens his eyes again, looking out over the street below. It's in the process of being reclaimed by nature, and even in the evening's darkness he can see the many plants breaking through the pavement. Ash is drifting through the air, falling from above, and he wonders what blew up, if it was a volcano or another bomb.

Sousuke, like always, sighs against him, shifting so he can sit beside him on the edge. Ichigo isn't really sure who Sousuke actually is; the man just shoved up at his house months into what can only be termed an apocalypse, and he wouldn't leave without Ichigo. And Ichigo didn't want a stranger, no matter how outwardly kind, to be at the house when his sisters returned. So they left.

But that was years ago.

Maybe Ichigo is weak, to be so easily swayed by a notably malevolent stranger that definitely had a hand in creating the apocalypse. Maybe he's weak, to let Sousuke hug him, embrace him. Maybe he's weak, to stay beside him.

But it's been years.

And Ichigo... just wants.

He sways his legs, leans his body against Sousuke's and shivers as Sousuke's arms wrap around him again. The sun is finally finishing setting, the horizon momentarily painted a luscious red before darkness descends upon them. Stars twinkle in the night sky, a whole galaxy above them, and Ichigo is warm with company, belly full for the first time in almost a week.

The world is dark and the air tastes perpetually of ash, but Ichigo is not alone—and that might be the most important part of all.

• Rating: T
• Categories: M/M
• Fandom: 山河令 | Word of Honor (TV 2021)
• Relationship: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu
• Characters: Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu
• Additional Tags: Ficlet, Rings, Fluff, True Love
• Status: Complete
• Wordcount: 924
• Published on AO3: 2021-11-20

Notes: First posted on Twitter (now deleted) for Wenzhou Challenge 2021: Day 19 - Rings

Disclaimer: I do not own 山河令 | Word of Honor or any associated trademarks.

It's nothing special, is the thing.

Zhou Zishu sees it at a roadside stall in a small village while he's loitering around, watching the villagers in silence. The sun rose a good hour ago, and he's just waiting for Lao Wen to return.

The ring is placed on the shabby table by a small child barely able to reach the top. He carefully nudges the ring onto it, inch by inch, and the image is amusing enough to make Zhou Zishu smile slightly. The child giggles when the clearly homemade ring is squarely on the table and, well, it is pretty. It's made of strings braided together, a collection of different colors interwoven. It's not particularly well-made; probably the product of the child itself or someone they know. But it's pretty.

And maybe he wants to see Lao Wen's reaction when he receives it.

Zishu waits for the child to turn around before he smiles at them and approaches. "It's a very pretty ring," he says. The child beams, proudly showing off a missing tooth. Zishu makes a humming noise and asks, "how much do you want for it?"

The child scrunches up their nose. Then they hold up three fingers. "You drive a hard bargain," Zishu says, but he pulls the money out of his sleeve. The child's eyes widen and they turn to the table, jumping up repeatedly and slapping it until their hand lands on the ring.

They present the ring to him grinning. Zishu hands over the money, the ring carelessly dropped onto his hand. Instantly, the child is sprinting away, the money held tightly to their chest. Zishu watches them go for a moment, then begins to study his new ring.

Up close, it doesn't look any different. The braided strings are tightly woven and shouldn't come loose easily. Zishu leans back against the wall as he silently resumes his waiting, twirling the ring around his little finger.

Lao Wen takes another hour before he finally returns, the sun having had time to change positions yet again. Zishu pretends he can't see him, stays still as he waits for the other man to reach him. "A'Xu!" Lao Wen calls, and Zishu can hear the smile in his voice.

He pulls the ring off his finger and curls his hand around it. "Yes," he raises an eyebrow at Lao Wen.

Lao Wen pouts, "I missed you~" he whines and drapes himself over Zishu's back. Zishu rolls his eyes and begins to walk. Lao Wen, as expected, doesn't let go.

As they're leaving the village, Zishu holds out his hand, fist closed. Only when Lao Wen makes a curious noise does he open his fist. "For you," Zishu says.

"A'Xu..." Lao Wen's voice is soft. His body is warm against Zishu's, a searing heat along his side. Sometimes, Zishu feels like he can drown in it.

Raising an eyebrow when Lao Wen doesn't take it, Zishu asks, "What? You don't want it?" He's not really sure what to do with it in that case. Maybe give it to Zhang Chengling?

But Lao Wen's hand grabs the ring, quick as a snake. "A'Xu!" Lao Wen cries, pulling the ring to his chest. Childishly, he says, "This is mine now, you can't steal it from me!"

"Oh, is that so?" Zishu drawls.

"It is," Lao Wen declares. The burst of joy Zishu feels is just as unexpected as always, a warmth spreading from his chest until it envelops him entirely. He sways with it, an instinctive attempt to get closer to his love.

It's almost cruel, he thinks, how easily Lao Wen does this to him.

But he doesn't dislike it.

Zishu turns to Lao Wen, curls his arm around the other's waist, and leans in. "Will you thank me for your lovely gift, Lao Wen?" he asks, pressing his head to Wen Kexing's shoulder and delighting in the shudder he can feel in the other's body. He wants to bask in this feeling, in this closeness. Wants to curl around it and pull it close, bury it in his chest where no-one else will ever be able to see it. Wants to drown in it, and smother in it, and surround himself so thoroughly that his entire being is just this.

"My A'Xu's gifts are the best," Lao Wen says, a slight hitch to his breath. Zishu smiles into his zhiji's shoulder. Wen Kexing turns his face to meet Zishu's, and Zishu smiles, staying still, waiting. And Lao Wen's eyes glitter in the sunlight, painted lips smiling softly.

The kiss is soft, barely a kiss at all. It is quick and fleeting, and it makes his stomach flutter madly. Zishu sighs into it, lets his body relax against Wen Kexing's, feels Lao Wen's hand curl gently over his neck. He breathes, and he lives, and he falls apart. It is an avalanche, a flood, the sunlight on a midday walk. It is a creature made of blood and bone, of mud and twigs, hollowing out his chest and making a home there.

They let go, and Zishu pulls back enough to walk steadily. The road ahead is long, and he doesn't know where he's going.

But Lao Wen is with him. Lao Wen, who's fitting the ring onto different fingers to figure out which one it fits best on. Lao Wen, who smiles so proudly when he pulls it on one and it stays put. Lao Wen, whose eyes are gentle every time they look at Zishu.

Wen Kexing, whom Zishu loves.

• 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, Pre-Relationship, Sane Voldemort
• Status: Complete
• Wordcount: 414
• Published on AO3: 2022-09-14

Notes: First posted on Tumblr.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated trademarks.

draco falls, and falls, and falls.

the ground rises up below him like a gaping maw, swallowing him into drowning darkness before his magic even has the time to react, and his hands stretch out, desperately, but he can't catch a thing. the sky is soon missing from his sight, replaced by an avenue of stars and and then not even that. there is a moment, here, where draco does not know which way is up, which is down.

there is only the darkness, and the rising tide of magic swelling inside him.

and then—an explosion. the fall stops, the magic recedes, the sky is sunny and bright and when draco blinks next, he's met by a red gaze searing into him.

he stumbles on nothing. "my lord," he says, like that can protect him from his own thoughts. "i—" he pauses, licking his lips. "did you find what you're looking for?"

lord voldemort's movements are slow, unhurried things, and has been ever sense he turned up at the manor one morning and proceeded to change everything. even now, as he searched draco's mind for something draco doesn't know, voldemort didn't hurry. didn't rush.

(draco will admit, if only in his own mind, that he doesn't recognize this voldemort. there's a patience there, a sanity, that is anathema to everything voldemort first was when he was resurrected.)

(draco doesn't understand it. but he also doesn't need to.)

"i did," voldemort confirms at last, gaze pinning him in place. draco doesn't dare move, his hands clasped behind his back and pressing nails pressing into skin. he merely nods, a single sharp bob of the head. voldemort's gaze stays still on him, never shifting.

draco can vaguely feel his parents worried looks on his back, can vaguely hear the chattering of the other death eaters. but he can't look away from those red, shining eyes. can not breath that gaze, or allow himself to tremble beneath it. he doesn't know what's at stake, never really has, but he knows better than to bend before voldemort.

"after this meeting is over, you and i will have a proper conversation, draco," voldemort says, then, and draco gulps. nods sharply again. very much does not think about the anxiety brewing under his skin.

he says, "yes, my lord."

voldemort's red gaze stays with draco during the rest of the meeting, and his mother grips his hand tightly. draco breathes, and forces himself to trust in voldemort's new sanity.