#like they simply do not mess with anyone who messes with Jasmine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thigiocamap · 9 months ago

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co-signing everything you said, and plus this isn’t even getting into just like. how shit the level curve is?

the majority of people who consider johto their favorite region usually site the “non-linearity” as a big reason for their love but i’ve always felt like this exact non-linearity absolutely killed the level curve.

on paper, the fact that chuck, jasmine, and pryce’s teams are of a very similar level to one another doesn’t seem like too big of a deal. in fact, the concept seems kind of cool. after all, they’re like this because this part of johto is a choose-your-own-adventure type of thing. the region opens up to you, and you’re able to go wherever you want and tackle these gyms in whatever order you desire.

but that’s ignoring the fact that these gym leader teams do not scale in level with your progress. for some reason too, the goldenrod radio tower takeover (which is supposed to be conquered right before you gain access to the final gym) still has you battling weak pokemon like rattata and zubat, still in the level 20s. it’s insane.

and then right afterwards, you’re supposed to battle clair, whose ace is a level 41 dual water/dragon-type, which only has the dragon-type as its sole weakness. i don’t doubt a lot of casual players got their asses kicked by this thing simply because it’s a menace that’s hard to counter at this point in the game, considering how most johto pokemon suck and how most people’s first opportunity to own a dragon-type pokemon at all is with the free dratini that’s given to you after the gym battle (you can get a dratini from the game corner as well, but most people are not like me and thus do not give a fuck about voltorb flip).

and then right after, you have the gauntlet of the elite four, with lance and his three dragonite (one of which being level 50) waiting for you. i don’t really consider pokemon games to be particularly difficult for me, but the fact that the battles have gone from gym leaders in the early level 30’s, to masses of weak rattata, zubat, and grimer just barely reaching level 25 to train off of, to suddenly jumping up to the final gym leader’s ace at level 41 and the champion’s own very powerful ace at level 50… it just comes across like artificial difficulty born from poorly-planned level setting.

the fact that every wild pokemon you catch is at a relatively low level even in the later areas of johto truly do not help in team building, as well, to add onto the “johto pokemon suck” point. the aforementioned skarmory can be found at level 27 (at a 5% spawn rate lol, so barely anyone would even know it’s on this optional route in the first place), while pokemon from the required ice path never reach a higher level than 23. why would you feel motivated to catch these pokemon when training them up on the low-leveled trainers is such a chore? this is why most people end up just using the old faithful team of starter, ampharos, and whatever else they found at the beginning of the game. it’s just a pain in the ass to level up new pokemon in this game, even if you can find a good one in the first place.

i do love hgss; i consider it to be my personal favorite of the remakes. but god, playing through it is a pain. i enjoy playing with a fresh and new team full of pokemon i’ve never used before for all of my replays of pokemon games, which is really fun but can end up being a little annoying when i’m replaying something like this. i ended up using multiple trade evolution pokemon and messed around with the safari zone just to have a decent team that wasn’t just your typical literally-everyone-has-used-this team. trading with myself was no problem because i have more than one ds, but what about kids that don’t have that luxury, and don’t have friends (like i was when i was little)? they’re stuck with weak pokemon!

it sucks !!!

i love hgss so much !!!

I've always looked back on the johto remakes fondly, as I know most people have. they're very beloved games, and for good reason! they brought johto to life on the ds and added lots of wonderful new features. pokemon fans have long since considered them to be the best remakes in the series, and I think they deserve that reputation. however, I've been replaying pokemon soulsilver the past few days and I've been coming to realize that they still suffer specifically because they're johto remakes.

my main issue with the johto games, a problem that continues to haunt their remakes, is that the variety of pokemon available is very limited. if you want to build a full team of 6, then most of your options are likely going to be pokemon from kanto. in the specific context of gold and silver, this makes sense. they were designed as sequels to the original red and green, with the primary hook being that 100 new species of pokemon have been discovered. the original 151 were extremely beloved, so it makes sense that they would continue to be featured prominently in gold and silver. that way, whenever you did find a new pokemon, it would be exciting for the player! I understand the approach that gamefreak took with the original johto games given this context.

the problem is that most johto pokemon just... aren't very good. most of the new pokemon have very poor stats - made worse by the fact that a significant portion of them are baby pokemon. on top of that, many of the ones that are good are often inaccessible until late in the game; skarmory isn't available until after you get the 8th badge (in an optional route that many players are likely to skip, no less), and tyranitar isn't available until mt. silver, the very last location you get access to. even some of the new pokemon which are mediocre at best aren't available until the post-game; houndour and slugma can only be found in kanto despite being johto pokemon, and misdreavus - the only other ghost type besides the gengar line - also can't be caught until mt. silver.

because many johto pokemon are unusable on a team, whether due to poor stats or inaccessibility, your team is most likely going to consist of kanto pokemon. again, I understand why this is the case given the context that the games were released in, but I find it frustrating! I want to build my team around the pokemon native to the region I'm playing in, and I feel my ability to do so is being limited!

so, did heartgold and soulsilver fix this? not really. the same problems mostly persist. one of the only saving graces is that some of the formerly weak johto pokemon received evolutions in gen 4. and you can obtain some of them! however, most of them are locked behind the post-game once again, and some of them are unobtainable entirely without trading. for example, there's no good reason that you shouldn't be able to evolve eevee into leafeon or glaceon in these games, but you need to trade it to diamond, pearl, or platinum to do so because there is no moss rock or icy rock in johto. they could have added them, but they didn't.

it frustrates me because the context these games were released in was different from that of the games they were remaking. technically, they didn't need to remake them; all johto pokemon were made available in gen 3, albeit many of them were locked behind the paywall of having to buy far too many games and accessories. the primary reason for these games to exist was to make them easier to obtain. it wasn't like firered and leafgreen, which were made specifically because the majority of kanto pokemon were completely unobtainable in gen 3 due to the gba not being able to connect with gb and gbc games.

speaking of which, it feels like they didn't learn their lesson from firered and leafgreen. one of the primary causes of frustration in those games is that you are completely unable to obtain any non-kanto pokemon until the post-game, for the sake of being "faithful" to the originals. this was a problem because they already weren't faithful to the originals, as frlg featured new mechanics from gen 3 such as abilities, but I digress. with hgss, the fact that gamefreak intentionally limited which pokemon you can access until the post-game feels like another attempt at being "faithful" to the originals, but they didn't even commit to it as hard as they did before. in frlg, if you maxed out a golbat's friendship, it would attempt to evolve into crobat every time it leveled up, before stopping prematurely. in hgss, you can evolve yanma into yanmega by teaching it ancient power and then leveling it up. if you want a togekiss though, too bad, because a shiny stone isn't available until after you beat the champion.

by this point in the pokemon franchise, I don't think gamefreak needed to remake gold and silver with faithfulness to their original context. hoenn and sinnoh were both designed to be new and refreshing, so it was reasonable for fans to expect each region to have its own identity, with its own pokemon being featured prominently. they could have adapted johto to suit this new convention for the series, but they chose not to, and I can't help but feel that heartgold and soulsilver suffer as a result.

#alex moment #good post vivi #much to say about this fucking game #i didnt bother going into the phone call rematch mechanic because I have always hated it #despite loving it conceptually #cool idea. vs seeker will always be better tho

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phrynewrites · 3 years ago

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☠️ and 🌙 for love letter au 🥺

I truly might do a little tag game where you guys give an emoji of any kind and I interpret the type of hc I give let me know if this seems fun to us

Ok no more rambles back to our regularly scheduled programming

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

Bosco can become frustrated easily when things aren’t working correctly or they can’t sort something out. Jasmine is usually the one they come to when they can’t figure out how to reword something or the internet isn’t working right or they don’t know how to act around a new client. Jasmine simply knows how to talk them down.

Once a dude hit on Jasmine while they were leaving a coffee shop and Bosco fully “tripped” and spilled their whole iced coffee on him. Jasmine shook her head a little, thinking it was too much, but still went back and bought Bosco another for “defending her honor”

Theo Does Not appreciate Bosco at first, as Bosco sleeps in his side of the bed whenever they’re over. Sometimes toward the beginning, Bosco would wake up with scratches all over their arms and chest and Theo would have to go to time out. Aveyah simply knows now not to fight with mom about her girlfriends

☾ - sleep headcanon

Sometimes Jasmine just want to be the big spoon, wrapping herself around Bosco like a backpack

Jasmine has the softest little matching pajama set and Bosco can’t say that cuddling with Jasmine while she’s wearing it doesn’t produce even better sleep.

Both of them keep little dream journals besides the bed, just in case some inspiration is sparked in the night and needs to be written down immediately. Sometimes Bosco will wake up around 6 to shower and find Jasmine’s been up and already has a kettle for tea started and 5 pages filled from her dreams

🥺 - soft headcanon

(As spoken about with @edilypilled ) Jasmine sometimes wears her hair in little fishtail braids and Bosco tries to do them for her, but isn’t terribly good. Jasmine still wears the messy braids because Bosco really out the effort in.

#have I mentioned that Bosco across all aus is a drink thrower?#the possessive streak really comes out u know #like they simply do not mess with anyone who messes with Jasmine #even though Jasmine is more than capable of handling her own issues #also mr. Theo does not appreciate his mom’s new girlfriend taking up his spot #he’s so tiny bit so angry at the idea that his mom is cuddling someone who isn’t him #he doesn’t get that now he’s got multiple people to pet him and give him treats in the morning #whereas Aveyah fully understands that a girlfriend means double treats in the morning #because jasmine doesn’t know that Bosco already gave them treats #asks answered #for anon #jasco love letter au

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liveindaydreamswithhim · 4 years ago

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Just like 1940*

A blurb in which Harry comes back from filming Dunkirk only to find that his girlfriend thinks he's a soldier coming back from war and wants to reward him.

Warning: This is pure smut. Main kinks: role-playing and even some choking and bondage.

I had this idea back in 2017 when Dunkirk had come out. However, I did not write then so now that videos of Harry training for Dunkirk has resurfaced, it has come back to me again. I will not let this opportunity go this time.

Word count: 5.6K

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders in order to get rid of the soreness that lingered after his long day at the set. His hours at work – quite different than the work he had been already used to – consisted mostly of hard training. That is how it was nowadays being part of a film and a war film nonetheless, so he and all the cast members had to always stay in their best shape and having to withgo heavy hours of training. From weightlifting and boxing to exercising in the wet sand while they were left to the brutality of the cold wind in addition to the sea that chilled him down to his bones and made the minutes feel like hours. Moreover, they had diving lessons in wet suits that barely even sheltered him from the freezing waters as well as wardrobe training to learn how to swim while wearing the heavy army boots and all the uniform equipment.

Harry searched his back pockets for his hotel room keys and even let a small groan as he reached towards the hole only for the joints of his elbow to crack in protest. Even though this day was not a training day, but rather a filming day, it had hardly given him any comfort for it still requested high physical skills and willpower and he could also feel the consequences of yesterday’s gym training. His thighs had been the ultimate victim as he dragged them around today, the muscles harder and more prominent from the excessive use, along with his torso that suffered the results of continuous core exercises, which also restricted him from laughing too much on set today since every deep breath was like a small pang to the stomach.

The boy felt his uniform stick to his skin with sweat and the smell of saltiness clung to him after being exposed to the sea air for a long period of time. He made a mental check to wash it tomorrow. That was the only problem of taking your work clothes with you – even if it saved you time in the morning for getting ready on set, you had to wash it yourself and that was not something the other actors warned him about when they advised him of it.

As Harry entered his room, the smell of vanilla and jasmine invaded his nose and he remembered to step lighter on his army boots and close the door with a soft thud as to not disturb the other person that was probably in his room so late at night. What gave him a bit of peace – and mostly his body – was the fact that he had tomorrow off to rest and more importantly to spend some time with his girl. Y/N was visiting him after being away from each other for the last three months and she had been very excited the first day he had taken her to the set and her eyes turned twice their normal size as they stared at every piece of the setting as well as behind it with all of the crew members. Y/N had been giddy when she met his co-workers who she charmed with her smiles and blushes (and also the fact that she was cutely wrapped up in bundles of clothes as to not catch a cold that only her face was visible, the skin of her cheeks and nose tinted red from the brutal winds as few strands of hair tickled her face that she couldn’t really push away since her hands were restricted by her thick gloves) and Harry had felt so proud to call her his as he showed her around with his arm over her shoulder as she leaned into him for some extra heat.

Y/N had looked especially proud when she was witnessing him act with her hands clasped close to her chest as she had stared in awe at the way her boyfriend looked. It gave him that extra boost of confidence as he noticed the way her eyes trailed from his short hair to his stained face to shamelessly gawk at the way his green uniform clung to his body especially when water was soaking it, leaving the skin underneath a bit more visible. Y/N would bite her lower lip but would not say anything until he finished filming for the day and then she would drag him immediately to their room, her hands never leaving his body until he was burning up from her touch, melting from her close proximity as she made him moan and call out her name in the darkness of the room over and over again while trembling under her warm body.

His blood rushed as he even thought of the day when he was being pulled inside a forgotten closet by his lover who, without wasting any time, attached her lips to the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbones pushing the fabric off his shoulder to give Y/N more space to invade. Harry had become dizzy at her assault but it had only lasted a few seconds, long enough to guide his hand down the front of her legging, where he realised how drenched and needy she was for him, but before he could curl his fingers in the way that had her begging, Y/N pulled his hand away with a deep sigh like it hurt her to do so, kissed his pink coloured lips for a second and then push him back out of the room before anyone could notice his absence.

Y/N, left in the closet with her own thoughts, had giggled at the stunned expression on Harry’s face and how she had picked her own battle carefully in order to await retaliation from him. And it really was more than she could handle. Harry had had on his scary calm face, the one that made her eyes widen in innocence because perhaps she had bit more than she could chew. After having her hands restrained to the bed frame, unable to move, Harry had granted her what she wanted, but with a twist. That night Y/N got his ring clad fingers time after time until she was sore and raw and made a wet mess of the bed, until she was begging for Harry to stop as he stared at her with a smirk on his clean shaved face, fake sympathy written all over it.

“But we have only just began,” was all that he had said and pulled her until she stranded his lap, a tight hold on her trembling thighs while her hands had fought her restrains.

Almost painfully slow, he slid inside of her, with absolutely no resistance as her mouth choked a small whine. As he had fucked her raw against the bedframe, his lips and teeth leaving marks on any part of soft skin he could reach, Y/N had thought to herself that maybe she had won the battle, but she had definitely lost the war. However, she was not giving up until she finally got what she wanted.

Walking now further into the room, Harry heard a soft humming and was surprised to see that Y/N was still awake and had lit a few jasmine scented candles that gave the whole room a golden feeling.

“Y/N?” he called out carefully.

Harry heard an elongated gasp and soft feet padding quickly to where he was.

“You are finally home!” she exclaimed coming into view and throwing her arms around his broad shoulders squeezing tightly as her feet left the floor.

Although confused at her affection he hugged her back because in the end, he had actually missed her on the set today. With his arms around her waist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck taking in the sweet smell of vanilla that always followed her. After a few moments, Y/N pulled back and smiled brightly at him and only then did he notice her attire. She was wearing a baby blue button-down dress that reached her knees. It had a sweetheart neckline and was tight around her chest and waist before it flowed out with enough fabric to hide her bare feet from view. The dress looked from a different era entirely and Harry was certain that she had bought it from a second-hand vintage shop. However, what caught his attention was the fact that the fabric was so thin that he could actually see her nipples protruding, hard from the chilly air of the room or even her lustful stare at him, because while he was staring her down, Y/N was also doing the same, with her lip caught in her teeth as she saw the camouflage apparel he had on, a few of his jacket’s buttons undone to see the green shirt underneath. A thick black belt kept his army trousers carefully in place and she never hated anything that much before.

“I can’t believe that you are back to me!” Y/N said eagerly, the tone in her voice cheery mixed with surprise.

“What–“ Harry was beyond confused looking at his girlfriend in front of him.

“You have been away from me for so long, I thought I would never see you again,” she cried out and he was so bewildered that he let her lead him to the bedroom and pushing him gently on a chair.

She went down on her knees in front of him and started unlacing his boots. The frown on Harry’s face was still prominent as he thought “what the fuck”.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked softly and reached over to her forehead, thinking that maybe she had gone out without her protections against the cold and had caught a fever.

Y/N simply gave him her sweetest smile that melted his heart and replied; “I am more than okay now that I have you here again my love,”

“I don’t understa-“

“I am so happy that you have come back home to me from the terrors of the world, my brave, brave soldier,” Y/N looked up at him with adoration in her eyes as well as plenty of mischief as she finally stood up, her fingers reaching towards the stray curls that had fallen in his eyes.

“Soldier?” was all that Harry could say dumbly and he seriously felt that he was missing something, but it wasn’t likely that Y/N would simply reveal it and he was all alone trying to understand.

“Yes, soldier. For have you not been fighting restlessly against our country’s enemy while I am sat here at home praying for your well-being, hoping that you will return to me?” she asked pursuing her lips like he was the mad one here.

This time Harry stayed silent trying to understand and looked in her eyes, filled with challenge as she cocked her eyebrow at him, running her hands down her skirt and raising it just enough to reveal the creamy skin of her thighs as placed each of them in either side of his until she was stranding him, and his hands ended up automatically on the small of her back as Y/N stared down at Harry with a theatrical sigh.

“Oh, how I missed you,” she dropped her head to his neck and puckered her lips to litter soft kisses around the are that slowly turned more opened mouthed as she reach the underside of his jaw, while her thighs squeezed his, trapping him under her.

Oh.

He saw it now.

His palms ran down to her ass and he pushed Y/N with force until her chest was against his, feeling her gasp and breathe heavily through the thin fabric of her dress. A wild sensation came over him as he realised the game that his girl wanted to play and fuck, would he grant her anything she asked for, so with a deep breath, he ran his hands all over her like he didn’t know where to begin touching her, in the desperate manner that he usually possessed after not seeing her for months on end.

Y/N released a small moan as Harry’s hands finally reached her hair and gathered it in one handful, pulling it lightly so that her throat and cleavage was exposed to him. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his lips on her skin that was starting to be set on fire, especially as his tongue poked through to savour the taste of her. His other hand rested on her hip that had already started grinding on him.

Harry growled and the sound travelled deep inside her all the way through her veins and his presence was heavy all around her. She almost couldn’t believe that she had convinced him to roleplay with her, a fantasy born since the first time she had seen him in that army uniform. During the last few second with his lips carving bright red marks on her skin and then licking over them, Y/N had become very desperate and that was not part of her acting.

“I missed you too,” Harry replied almost in agony, for if she wanted him to play desperate, he would gladly do so.

Y/N, now that she was not the one teasing, pulled against Harry’s hold on her hair and clasped his face in her palms and leaned in until she found his mouth. She hummed in appreciation as she tasted his lips that were just as hungry as hers. One taste and that was enough for Harry to want to rip every single item of clothing that she was wearing, but he managed to restrain himself because he knew that destroying that dress would displease her very much. Instead, he opted for carelessly undoing the buttons in the front and slowly every sliver of her bare skin was revealed to him. He knew that she was not wearing a bra but he was surprised to see that she had no other barrier between them after the dress was only hanging from her shoulders. Harry broke from the kiss and stared shamelessly at her exposed body on top of him as Y/N slowly stood up and let the dress become a pool of blue at the bottom of their feet.

She looked at him bashfully and once again went down on her knees for him. She was still almost close to eye level with him as she ran her hands along his hard chest and undid the buttons of his jacket, which Harry quickly discarded it somewhere in the room. Y/N stared at the light green vest that he wore and how it made his arm muscles protrude in the most delicious way as the shapes of his tattoos appeared even darker under candlelight. She decided to keep it on for now.

Next target was the big belt around his waist that she wasted no time unbuckling and pulling it down along his trousers. She stretched out to give one last kiss to his lips before settling further down on her knees, lifting his vest to reveal the valley of his stomach and the muscles defining it. Y/N marked her way south switching between feather soft kisses and hungry bites of skin while her eyes stayed entirely on his face that looked at her expectantly.

“Let me reward you for what you do for all of us,” Y/N said in a small but steady voice. Her hands ran up his firm thighs and over the prominent bulge that had formed in his black underwear. At first contact, Harry released a hiss and immediately closed his eyes.

“Please,” he exhaled.

Kissing the inside of his thighs, Y/N pulled down his boxers and freed him. Her hands were on his cock, feeling how hard he was in anticipation to her moves. The skin was silky as she gave it a testing pump. Harry’s head fell backward at the feeling and Y/N, very satisfied with his reaction, spit on the head and spread the wetness with her thumb so that her hand could slid easier over him.

“Fuck, such dirty actions from such an innocent young woman,” Harry rasped, his voice laced with lust as he looked down at her.

Y/N said nothing, but in retaliation she bit the inside of his thigh before moving up his spread legs to put him in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks as she twirled her tongue around him, capturing the pre-cum and tasting him while giving an appreciative hum. She lowered herself on him until he hit the back of her throat while her hand slid up his thigh to connect with his balls, massaging lightly and coaxing a deep moan from Harry who felt his pleasure build at the bottom of his stomach. Y/N released him with a pop and breathed in some well-needed oxygen before wrapping her mouth back around his dick, bobbing her head in a slow tempo. She felt her eyes fill with tears at the big size of him and the fact that Harry without knowing was slowly lifting his hips to meet her every thrust making her choke around him. Harry realising her efforts to breathe stopped his movement and pulled out of her warm mouth even though he wanted to stay buried in her for hours.

However, Y/N did not mind it at all, especially if Harry continued to reward her with the deep throaty moans he released. Eager to put him back in her mouth she went to lunge forward but was stopped when Harry’s hand in her hair pulled her backwards making her let out a pathetic whimper. She looked up at him begging with her doe like eyes to use her throat as he pleased, but she stopped trying to reach him when he gave her a warning glare, which stilled her in place. Instead, Harry tapped her cheek and she dropped her mouth open and poked her tongue out. The look in his eyes was that he was trying to be careful with her and she almost scowled at it. If she had wanted careful, she would not have orchestrated all of this plot. So, when Harry placed his thumb on her awaiting tongue, she immediately closed her lips around it and sucked on it harshly.

Harry was displeased and quickly pulled his hand back leaving her pleading again. He clicked his tongue and tapped her cheek again and this time he gave a warning pull to her hair for her to obey his orders – a small reminder of who was really in charge and he felt a satisfied thrum at the fact that she obeyed him so easily. When Y/N’s tongue came into view again, Harry ran his cock over the outline of her plush lips and she summoned all the willpower she could master to stay put while her eyes silently begged him to do something. Finally, Harry placed the head of his cock on her tongue and he moaned when he saw that Y/N eyes flattered at the action.

“Such a needy lady,” he mused.

“Please,” she begged him.

“What is it baby,” he cooed and urged her to speak but he had already sank his cock deeper in her mouth feeling out the shape of it, watching in fascination the bulge forming in her cheeks. But he knew what she was pleading for, he knew her well enough to understand her looks and her moods and her stares and he knew from the endless hunger rooted in her eyes that she did not want soft, she wanted to please him.

Again he granted her wish to be desperate and without warning he slid deeper until he felt her nose graze his stomach and held her in that position for a moment – only long enough so that he could wrap a hand around her neck and feel himself fill her up to her limit. Harry pulled back and kept her in that position as he fucked her mouth slow but firmly and he almost felt himself combust from the way that Y/N’s eyes focused on him the entire time.

Y/N felt warm all over and she could feel more wetness pooling between her thighs as she got drunk at the view of him over her using her mouth to get lost in his pleasure. After another pause for her to breathe, Harry without hesitation, placed his hands under her thighs and lifted her like she weighed nothing carrying her to the bed and he really thanked his training for it. Although the muscles all over his body hurt, he managed to push the pain to the back of his head, his mind too preoccupied with the vixen wrapped around him. He laid her on the bed, but she did not stay where he left her. Y/N got up, pushing Harry’s shoulders so that he was the one falling on the bed and she crawled to him. In two quick moves he discarded the vest leaving them both completely naked under the candlelight.

“I thought about you every day, even more at night, and even more when I was alone,” Y/N continued her little game.

Harry raised his brows, because he understood the meaning behind her words and imagined her all day in their bed waiting for him while he was on set, with her greedy hands between her thighs and thinking about him. This hunger she was feeling was only a result of her being left alone in her very dirty thoughts that no amount of cold showers would cool her down and her own fingers couldn’t bring the pleasure he could.

“You have been such a good girl for me, welcoming me back home –“ he urged her to him and deliberately placing her on top of him with one leg between her thighs. She was so focused on the praise given to her that she did not notice that his thigh was right under where she needed him the most. “But how about you? Let me greet you properly.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she soon realised their position.

“Come on baby, use me,” was all he said as he stretched his arms out to prove that he would not interfere with whatever she wanted to do.

However, the position Harry had placed her in could only amount to one thing, something that she wanted to try long ago, but had been too shy to even mention it. Y/N’s cheeks heated up as she noticed his thigh muscles tensing up giving her a better area. She bit her lip and thrusted her hips forward at an angle that his skin grazed her clit, most of her wetness coming off on him.

Harry looked more than satisfied as he heard her first moan of appreciation that was followed by many more as she used his thigh to receive pleasure. Soon Y/N got lost at the warm feeling that travelled through her veins as goosebumps scattered over her skin, she threw her head back and felt her wetness slide down Harry’s thigh and on the duvet under them, but she did not seem to care about anything apart from what his warm skin was doing to her. She jolted me she felt his hands land on her chest, firm as the fingers ran over her nipple making her shudder a bit. Y/N opened her eyes to see that Harry was already watching her, his lip between his teeth and the deep green of his eyes almost non-existent. Like he was not able to control himself he reached forwards and attached his big hands on her hips and made her movements harsher to the point where Y/N almost collapsed on him from the pleasure and gasped as she leaned in to capture Harry’s lips midway, letting his tongue enter her mouth and taste her own as she clenched her thighs.

“I am going to cum,” she warned and braced herself for the rows of pleasure that would most definitely take her breath away.

However, Harry had other plans, as he lifted her off him and smirked when he heard her whimper and tremble at the incompletion. He laid her on the bed and this time she had no energy to object. He took her right leg in his hand and placed it over his shoulder and turned his head so that he could kiss her calf. When she squirmed until one warning slap was given to the inside of her thigh, so close to her soaked centre, she stayed still.

Harry’s left fingers dragged down his left thigh and over the tiger tattoo, the place where Y/N had used him and collected the wetness she had left behind. She moaned so loud when she saw that he had popped his fingers in his mouth and sucked them dry. Then he grabbed his throbbing cock in his hand, sliding it a couple times over her folds and slowly he eased himself in her wet tight hole.

Both of them exhaled in relief at the feeling of becoming one as Harry leaned in to kiss her opened mouth.

“Harry, please,” Y/N cried out although she didn’t know what she was begging for. But Harry nevertheless seemed to give it to her.

With a hard thrust that left them both in scrambles, he picked up the rhythm, hitting that one spot inside her that had his name bouncing off her lips. Y/N arched her back as Harry’s mouth attached to her nipple, his teeth softly grazing them. The deep moans that she released were like they had awoken something feral inside him, as he straitened his back grabbing the leg on his shoulder with both hands, fingers digging into the plush skin of her thigh and she almost felt a pang when she realised that he was not wearing any rings. That did not last long, for Harry started pounding into her with a force so brutal that had her moaning under him, her body acting without her command as her other leg hit the mattress in order to buck her hips.

Harry tatted amused before he took both her legs and placed them over his hips while he was still on his knees and Y/N lifted her gaze to see the fern tattoos poking between her thighs. When he took the first thrust in that position, the angle it gave multiplied their pleasure by far and she was in awe at the deep throaty moan that he released. Harry’s hands gripped her hips so hard that she knew that in the morning she would find bruises in the shape of his fingers.

Harry felt like his hands couldn’t get enough of her and they flattered every time they stayed in one part of her body for too long. He couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to explore her whole body in just one night. Complying to his wish, Harry ran his hands up to her sides, her breasts until they reached her open neck, begging for a hand around it. With his left hand around the delicate skin of her throat and his right hand playing with her nipple, he stared at the girl underneath him with awe in his eyes. His stare scanned her pleasure-ridden face, they way her own eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowing, but her hands blindly searched for him, wanting to be in contact with him as one of them dug in the skin of his shoulder while the other gripped the wrist around her neck and pushing it further.

“Open your eyes for me baby, let me see those eyes that I missed,” Harry commanded desperate to catch her gaze.

Her hairline had gathered bids of sweat and she whined at his words, but in the end, although with difficulty, Y/N managed to open her eyes meeting his intense stare. Her mouth let airy moans free every time that his hips rolled forwards to meet her own.

“You feel so fucking amazing love,” he moaned in the space between them and raised her body so that she was stranding his lap. Y/N cried out at the prospect of being separated from him even for a second, but Harry managed to remain inside her, his pride swelling at the reaction of his lover.

“You love it when I am this deep in you,” he continued and Y/N felt like she had lost the ability to talk.

“It’s okay sweetheart because you know I love it too,” Harry soothed her back as she set a rhythm riding him.

“I can always feel you so deep Harry, so deep, all the way to my tummy,” she managed to croak out and dragged his hand to the place she felt him the most. Harry groaned at her filthy words, barely holding it together as he buried his face in her neck, biting where her pulse beat like a hummingbird.

“It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I last fucked you, I can always remember how you feel, baby,” his voice was like velvet in her ears and she found herself going fasted at his words.

“I can always feel you for days when you are like this,” Y/N whispered in his ear, a few curls tickling her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Harry bragged and she swore that she could almost hear the smirk on his lips they way she heard the wet noises their skin made when it collided as it bounced off the walls along with the groans he released because of her. For a few moments she focused solely on that and how dirty and raw and passionate it felt, and it was enough to drive her out of her mind.

“Harry,” Y/N warned the pressure in her lower stomach like a knot begging for release.

“I know,” he replied, letting his hand down to where they were connected and rubbed small circles on the small bundle of nerves.

Her thrusts were becoming sloppy and it took all of Harry’s concentration or at least what was left of it since he could feel her clenching around him, to keep them up. He latched his mouth on her nipple, the other hand around her waist to guide himself harder into her as she finally found her high with a gasp, almost like she couldn’t believe the power of it. After a few seconds, she was trembling in his arms and tried to shut her legs further to get Harry’s hand of her overstimulated part. Harry ignored her and continued stroking her, prying those thighs apart as he watched himself get lost into her. Y/N cried out and off her tongue rolled Harry’s name time and time again.

So close to his own high, Harry got lost in her moans and became more aware of her presence on him. The way her hands pulled on the strands of his hair hard like they were the anchor that kept her from falling to pieces and the way her shallow breaths hit his face as she calmed down from her orgasm while also being aware of him pounding into her still, the way she clenched her legs around him and she opened her eyes again, begging could be seen in them but this time it was not for her own finish but for his. Harry felt overwhelmed from all the senses and was so close it was painful.

“Please cum for me baby, please cum inside me,” Y/N whimpered in her soft voice and that was all he needed before he spilled in her, short desperate thrusts as he rested his head on her collarbone, taking in her vanilla perfume and felt her arms wrapping around his neck holding him impossibly close while ripple after ripple of pleasure took over his body. His thrusting stopped and Harry felt spent as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal.

Harry gathered Y/N in his arms and laid her carefully on the bed after removing himself from inside her even though she whimpered due to sensitivity and he took the place right next to her. They faced each other, their breaths mixing together as they relaxed in each other’s presence. Harry raised a hand to push away the hairs getting in Y/N’s face and she hummed in appreciation.

“God, I barely remember what year we have,” she frowned and opened her eyes at the sound of his laughter.

“I do believe that it is 1940,” he mused and her face regained a rosy colour at the game long forgotten.

“I… You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered trying to avoid his gaze.

Harry head turned in question. “Pretend what? I am only a soldier coming back from the battlefield to make love to the woman I love.”

Y/N blushed.

“Because it seems she holds a deep fascination for men in army apparel,” Harry continued and smirked when she mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that sweetheart?” he asked and when he received no answer he dipped his hand between her thighs hissing at the wetness of her mixing with his release as he plunged two fingers in her.

Y/N yelped, “Not every man, just you,” she confessed and Harry satisfied moved his fingers lazily.

“Although I appreciate the welcome home, you have not offered me anything to eat,” he frowned and he knew that if it wasn’t for his fingers pinning her down she would have leaped up to order him something to eat.

“What would you like?” Y/N asked with difficulty because of the sensation he caused her.

“Well I see that you have a whole feast here already waiting for me,” he retorted and pulled his fingers away.

At her confused gaze, Harry whispered hotly in her ear, “Although I could never forget how tight you feel around me love, nothing really reminds me of the way your pussy taste under me,”

And with that, he pushed her legs open and dived between then before she could even atter a word of surprise.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #Dunkirk!Harry #Harry styles in dunkirk #Harry styles kink

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otnesse · 2 years ago

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Yeah, no kidding about that. Really don't like how true love was deconstructed right now. And quite frankly, I've never been a big fan of the whole "enemies grow to be lovers" bit. They might grow to be friends, but lovers is a whole different kettle of fish that simply does not work.

Heck, I've heard of a couple my parents met who actually DID have a Disney/Fairy Tale kind of marriage (ie, they had love at first sight) and had a strong marriage at that, so love at first sight romances being strong is actually very realistic. Sure, it might be RARE, but its certainly realistic.

Linda Woolverton truly ruined Disney's fairy tale division with Beauty and the Beast and her handling of it. Actually, no, it's not even just with Woolverton either. She wouldn't have even had a job at Disney if that SJW Jeffrey Katzenberg didn't hire her for the job and specifically request a feminist twist to the tale. As far as I can tell, she and Katzenberg started this mess, and unless we right the ship, it's only going to get worse. In fact, I'd say they've already hit worse with the awful Maleficent movie, which had Maleficent, aka the lady directly, and DELIBERATELY, responsible for Aurora's predicament, kissing her to wake her up, while Phillip left her to her fate in that rendition. And you can probably guess Maleficent was really misandric in its messaging, even tarnishing Beauty and the Beast thanks to Woolverton's need to gloat.

I'm not sure I'm particularly willing to agree to an "out" couple storyline (let's not forget, the audience is geared towards families, and I'm doubtful that's going to be particularly appropriate for that age bracket. Besides, if you ask me, gays have gotten way TOO much representation as it is, even warping established characters to become that like with Claire Bennet and Alex Danvers, also Jonathan Kent and Tim Drake as well, many times at the expense of us heterosexuals as well.). But I definitely agree with you that what they're doing with true love messages is just appalling. It would be ONE thing if they had frenemy bickering where they bash each other yet at the end of the day they still genuinely care for each other, but we're not even getting that with anyone save for MAYBE Rapunzel and Mulan as of late, maybe Jasmine and Aladdin since they at least were a solid couple by the sequels.

It's high time we tried to get back to the classics, get it back to the pre-Woolverton influence. Sure, The Little Mermaid might have had a slight deconstruction in the sense that Ariel failed to kiss Eric on time, but at least that movie STILL maintained a belief in true love and had the two genuinely trying to help each other, acting as compliments to each other rather than having any real friction. So it still counts as part of the Classics even if Ariel's a tad bit more proactive.

it's wild to me that modern critics have brainwashed so many people into thinking true love, as presented in the classic princess movies, is toxic. we go from snow white's prince calling their love "constant and true" and never giving up on his search for the lost princess throughout endless seasons and forests aimlessly until he finds her, charming tearing apart the entire kingdom when all he had was one slipper that had been left behind because he couldn't imagine a life without cinderella, and phillip fighting a literal fire breathing dragon for aurora.

to appear more "realistic", and effectively more sensible i guess??? disney made the couples afterward decidedly spikey. beast and belle are nothing if not enemies to lovers with their courtship starting with belle literally giving her life to the beast so her father would be spared, jasmine and aladdin have a lot of friction over his lies, i don't even want to get started on john smith and pocahontas nor meg working for the literal devil against hercules's best interest...but that wasn't enough and they continued to suck anything appealing out of these love stories until we reach naveen and tiana trying to kill each other in a swamp as frogs and not liking each other and even being visibly repulsed at one another, rapunzel inflicting physical violence upon flynn with her frying pan in a "cute!" and "quirky" way, and hans being used as a plot device to make us believe a prince charming for us doesn't exist which ends in anna punching him.

and...it's that astounding these bad faith criticisms have been given so much weight and power that they're literally now effectively tearing apart true love in these films to the point where it's now just bickering and physical violence with straight couples that have no chemistry but gay people still don't have a single explicitly "out" couple/storyline :)

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ditttiii · 4 years ago

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Brothers Conflict || 01.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (final pairing: will be decided by readers, could also be ot7) (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER ONE

WC: 2585

Warnings: Curse Words (sfw)

Masterlist (all available chapter links are here)

Taglist

Your eyes take in the humongous structure in front of you, and you try your best to not look too awestruck. You aren't sure how well that works out, considering you can hear your best friend muffling her laugh beside you, but you don't bother to turn and check.

'Pretty sure this isn't the last time this is going to happen either.' You think, as you bite your lower lip and wipe your sweaty hands over the denim of your jeans.

"Girl, you scored a jackpot." Sunmi teases, her angelic yet somehow demonic at the same time, giggle following close after.

You, in response side eye her and choose not to reply. What would you even say? Depending on who answers, the reply would differ anyways.

Though you still aren't sure what your answer would be.

Till a week ago you were just a 20-year-old university student, who while technically was said to be living with her father, at the end of the day virtually lived alone.

Your father is a famous adventurer. You don't know what that term entails precisely, but too scared of the possible connotations that it might bring forth, you avoid letting your curiosity run too deep.

You think some part of it involves climbing and hiking mountains though.

Has to be.

"Are we seriously going to stand here like a bunch of creepy fangirls all day? Woman, that is your home now. Move it before I do it for you!" Sunmi grumbles before she locks her arm with yours and then proceeds to forcibly, drag you across the driveway.

"Wait! Sun stop! Ohmygod, Will you stop you crazy banshee?"

Sunmi, in all her eccentric glory, does not. Instead, she turns, gives you a non-pulsed look and then continues to drag you over against your will, her silky, long, black hair billowing behind her like a cape and hitting you in the face.

Of course.

You try to dig the heels of your converse into the pavement below, but it's smooth and cemented, and you almost trip and break your jaw, before you decide that it is simply not worth it and allow her to drag you against your will.

"This is an insanely long driveway, for fucks' sake, why would anyone need such a long driveway anyway?"

You let out a snort when you hear her say that and let your eyes take in the view as you reply, "It's a rich people thing, you peasant."

The answering elbow that digs deep into your ribs is totally worth it, you decide.

The cool breeze feels heavenly, and you sigh as you feel it between your strands and over your heated scalp. The area that surrounds the large sprawling five-storey mansion in front of you is lined with trees. Tall hills coloured green by vegetation, with their tips shrouded between clouds, form the backdrop.

There is also a fancy, intricate water fountain that you think is made of white marble? Or some sort of white stone maybe? In the middle of the driveway.

‘Expensive,’ You decide and glance around.

The driveway itself spreads all across the front of the mansion, forking and getting divided into two separate pathways a little further away from the building. Between the divided paths is where the fountain is, it's base surrounded by a kaleidoscope of pretty, bright flowers.

At the call of a bird, your gaze snaps up, and you see as a couple of graceful, little, birds fly over and pass you by. Their chirping fills the quietness of the atmosphere, with a pleasant, dulcet ring.

If nothing else, at least the place is beautiful.

You stop when Sunmi rings the doorbell and scoot a few inches behind her.

'I am not trying to hide, I'm just strategically camouflaging.' You think to yourself, but you know you're lying.

Sunmi apparently does too, as no sooner had you scooted back, that she yanks you ahead of her. You wince when you feel your muscles protest, and aim a glare at her.

"I hope you realise that if you dislocate my shoulder, you will have to assist me until it heals back."

Sunmi gives you a look before she quips back, "Why would I? I hope you realise that you now have seven ridiculously good looking brothers to take care of you instead."

At your disgusted expression, she wiggles her eyebrows and of course because the world is never at your side you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

A part of you dies inside when you realise that someone probably overheard what your stupid, loudmouth of a best friend had just said.

Add a mental note to punch Sunmi at the earliest.

You are snapped back out of your thoughts when you feel her pinch your stomach and you yelp as you twist back to face the door, only to stop dead in your tracks.

There holding the door open and standing at the threshold looking like a Greek god, was Kim Seokjin, who if you remember your information right was the oldest brother. Now your stepbrother.

He smiles when he sees your startled expression and bows.

"Ah, yes we have been waiting for you Y/N. I am Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin-oppa if you'd prefer that."

Startled, your face breaks out into colour when you hear that, and your voice comes out broken as you say, "O-op-Oppa?"

You don't know if he doesn't hear you or if he's just ignoring you, but the next second he's bowing and introducing himself to your best friend. Sunmi, of course, preens under the attention as she does the same and somewhere in the back of your mind, you snort at how much of an attention whore your best friend is.

Once they are both done, he turns to you and his smile widens as he holds the door open, as if indicating for you to move in. Your eyes fall to his smile and thus to his lips, and all you can think about is how his lips are better than yours.

‘Why does he need such full lips anyway?’ You think jealous, and more than a little self conscious.

Sunmi, however, takes the hint and tugs on your hand again, stepping in first.

You trail a few inches behind her taking in the interior of the house, only to jump when you feel someones’ hand at the back of your waist.

You spin on your heels and pause as you realise that you are now an inch, away from Seokjins very wide, very built chest. The smooth, pale skin of his torso, glimpses back at you from in between the deep V-neck of his button-down shirt, and you feel a blush rising from deep above your own chest, as you realise the close proximity.

The feel of his hand that is still, on your waist doesn't help either.

However, before you can ponder on too much, over the utter perfection that are your eldest step brothers shoulders, and then promptly be horrified at that following train of thought, you are walking again.

Sunmi apparently had not caught onto your little pause, as she continues to tug you across the room.

Stumbling, you try not to trip face-first onto the floor. Your eyes widen, and your face burns when you feel the hand that was till now placed lightly over your waist, grip your side, before twisting you forward and then moving away.

A second later, your brother lightly brushes your shoulder with his as he moves forward and directs you and Sunmi to where everyone else is apparently waiting for you.

You blink as you try to wrap your head around what had just transpired.

You think he was just trying to help you but is gripping your stepsister's waist seconds after meeting her for the first time an acceptable form of action?

Out of your depth, and baffled at his actions, you just follow along behind Sunmi, as you try to get your thoughts straight and your raging blush under control.

Deep breaths Y/N, in and out, there we go.

Once your cheeks no longer feel like they are trying to light themselves on fire, you raise your head and glance around.

The interior was just as grand as you had expected it to be. The walls tall and glassed, let in the sunshine from outside and created a bright, warm ambience. There were potted plants, placed around every few steps, and you wonder if they are real or fake. There's an undertone fragrance of jasmine in the air that makes you think that maybe the plants are real.

The ceiling is high and most of the interior white, or metallic. Lights hung from the ceiling in designer, metal frames and there were white leather couches spread around along with a few showpieces.

The uniformity of the interior is only interrupted by the vast array of paintings around you. There were paintings scattered all across the walls, some hung higher than the others,. You try to see if there is a pattern or not as you pass a few by and look closer, but quickly give up when you realise they are pieces of modern art.

Yep, too dumb for that.

You let that train of thought go as you force yourself to stop suddenly to avoid smashing headfirst into your best friends back. Looking ahead, you realise that you are now standing in front of an elevator. You clench your jaw to prevent it from unhinging to the ground and instead glance at Sunmi, to see if she is as gobsmacked as you are.

Your best friend, apparently somewhere on the way had taken her cellphone out and was now aggressively hitting the screen as she tries to text back with one hand, the other one still firmly locked with yours.

Apparently not then.

Your jaw still clenched, you look up to see the capsule-like glass-walled lift come down to your floor. It stops with a soft 'ding', and you follow behind Seokjin, for once tugging Sunmi instead of the other way around.

It's when you are inside the lift ascending to some floor above, that you realise your predicament. Sandwiched between Seokjin on one side and Sunmi on the other, you try not to fidget as you feel your stepbrothers shoulder brush with yours, as he leans back against the wall beside you. The lift is spacious, and you don’t understand why you all are standing so close, but you don’t say anything or move.

Trying your best to not seem rude, you just bite your lips and look down at your feet, rocking back on your heels, as you tug the lace of one of your converse with the other.

The ride up is quiet with only the low, generic elevator music ringing in the background.

'This is awkward, should I say something? I should probably say something.'

That's when you realise that you hadn't introduced yourself, nor said a single coherent word since Seokjin had opened the door for you.

The thought sends you tumbling down another self-induced shame spiral.

As if that wasn't bad enough, you think back to just what, he had heard when he had opened the door, and you decide maybe not saying anything would be a wiser course of action. Least you open your mouth and embarrass yourself further.

Realising the potential harm of using your vocal cords, you stay quiet and instead take the time to really look at your eldest stepbrother. Or is it just brother now?

Would it be rude if I referred to them as my stepbrothers? Is the thought that your mind brings forward and you bite your lip as you think of how you should proceed ahead.

As you look at your brother from the corner of your eyes, your breath hitches when you realise just how good looking he is. The picture that your father had shown you clearly did not do him justice.

His luscious, black hair, is gelled back to keep it off his forehead and his ridiculously thick eyelashes are long and slightly curled at the end, framing his almond-like eyes.

As your gaze trails down his side profile, you gulp when you realise that while he looks like a classic movie-star with his thick, high arched eyebrows, you probably look like a haggard, homeless woman in contrast.

The thought doesn't quite sit well with you, and you let out a quiet huff in annoyance.

Apparently, you huff wasn't as quiet though because not a second later, you feel Seokjin nudge your side and your gaze snaps up to look at him—his brows raised and a look of concern plastered over his face.

Your lips part, as you think to reply but when no words come out, you snap them shut, pulling on a tight smile instead and just shake your head to assure him that you are fine.

The unconvinced, concerned look on his face stays, but thankfully he doesn't pry and leaves you to your own devices, with a soft reassuring, squeeze to your hand.

You, however, because are socially awkward and love to embarrass yourself, proceed to let out a yelp as you flinch away from his touch and crash into Sunmi's side.

"Jesus ouch! Y/N are you okay? Did you see a spider or something?" Sunmi asks concerned, as she slips her phone back into her pocket and pulls you to her side, wrapping an arm around your waist. Beyond mortified, you just shake your head and curl yourself around her body, seeking the familiar warmth and comfort of your best friend.

You don’t turn to look what the expression on Seokjins’ face is.

'This day couldn't get any worse.' You think now utterly embarrassed and push your head into the side of Sunmi's neck, and hope that the world crashes so that you don't have to look into your stepbrother's eyes again.

'He probably thinks you're a psycho.' Your brain adds, and you internally groan and snuggle into your best friend more, the increasingly familiar blush overtaking your face again.

Earlier, you think you might have jinxed yourself. Because no sooner, had the doors of the lift opened, and you had stepped out, that you tripped and fell face-first onto the floor.

Smooth.

Thankfully the floor was covered with a soft plush carpet, and soon your best friend was by your side, her concerned voice ringing in your ears, which was then followed by Seokjins’ as his crouched figure comes into your peripheral vision.

You would be more embarrassed, but you are pretty sure he already thinks you are deranged, so you just take this one in stride and raise your face to look up and reassure them both that you are alright.

However, the scene that greets your eyes is a little different.

Standing there in front of your fallen form, faces ranging from curious to concerned are six more men.

Six more men that you realise, are the rest of your stepbrothers.

The realisation hits you like a bucket full of ice water being poured down your back, and you hold back a frustrated scream, as the absolute ridiculousness of the day catches up with you.

But instead of shrieking, you just groan and let your raised face fall back onto the carpet.

Carpet fur in your mouth and mushed against your face, you realise that no, your day could and just did get a lot worse.

A/N: ETMY is still my priority, but I write wayy too much angst so here’s a light hearted, fluffy, crack fic to balance my masterlist. Lemme know your thoughts, and remember the final pairing will be decided by you, there won’t be any vote but I’ll keep a track of who is being favoured. OT7 can also be the future pairing, if you guys so choose.

Thanks for reading and have a pleasant day ahead!

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heynikkiyousofine · 3 years ago

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A new wip because I don't have enough of them already😅 Inspired by @neutronstarchild fic “The Last Unclaimed Soul” and @lemonlushff fic ‘A Worthy Sacrifice” because y’all are goddesses at writing InuKag and I love your work.💕

Also, a big shoutout to @enchantedink-ag for always keeping me hyped up on my work, your kind words keep me going. 😊

Inuyasha stumbles across a goddess while he’s hunting a deer. A quick decision ends up turning his whole life around, is he prepared for his own red string of fate?

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic and let me know what y’all think!

The Red Strings of Fate

Inuyasha jumped from one tree branch to the next, a determined look on his hard features. His jaw clenched as he paced himself to stay next to the deer running below. If he could catch this one, he would have food for a few days, plus a new skin to keep warm at night. The fall nights had been gradually getting colder and his cave was getting harder to keep warm throughout the night. Seeing the chestnut furred animal dart to the left, he cursed himself for not focusing better and leaped, landing right on top of the running mammal. Feeling it struggle beneath his sharp claws, he quickly snapped its neck and tumbled the forest floor, gripping its now lifeless body tightly against him as he rolled to a stop. Sighing to himself, he closed his eyes and said a silent thank you to the gods above for providing for him.

Opening his eyes, he saw the glimpse of light blue silk hanging from a tree nearby. Bracing himself for an attack, he quickly scooped up the deer and draped it over his shoulders, taking a silent step backwards. Hearing a heavenly giggle from somewhere up above, he stopped moving, his ears twitching rapidly on his head.

Curious about the sound, he silently jumped up in a large tree and set the mammal’s body down, hidden away from anyone passing by. Hearing the soft giggle once again, he slowly crept along his branch, keeping an eye on the soft blue silk. Hearing a slight rustle in the trees, he heard voices below as he crept further along as silently as possible.

“Monk, keep your hands to yourself!” an agitated feminine voice called through the trees.

“My dear Sango, I cannot resist. A body as beautiful as yours should always be worshipped.” A deep voice responded, causing Inuyasha to freeze in place. He held his breath, his golden eyes searching ahead for the blue silk or anything else to give him a clue as to who they were. The soft giggle he so desperately wanted to hear again lightly flitted across his ears, coming from above him this time. Glancing up, he saw a young woman with hair as black as night falling down her back, blue silk sashes flowing beneath her in the slight breeze, and pale legs with barefoot feet, hanging from the thick branch she currently resided on.

“We must get back Miroku. Kohaku will get suspicious if we’re gone too long.” the woman’s voice called softer this time, assuming her name was Sango based on the not so quiet conversation below.

“If we must my dear.” Miroku replied. Inuyasha stayed hidden behind the red and yellow leaves as the two humans headed towards a village up ahead, their footsteps fading in the afternoon. He glanced up at the figure still sitting on the tree, who sighed as she watched the couple leave. Jumping once more to a branch nearby the woman, Inuyasha landed on his toes, his clawed hands gripping the tree trunk for support. He heard a soft gasp and locked eyes with startled grey ones.

Inuyasha tried to ask who she was, but couldn’t seem to get a word out, his throat closing tight. Swallowing quickly, he didn’t dare to move closer as the woman stayed still as stone, staring back at him in shock. After a few moments, she let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit and a sweet smile gracing her lips. Her grey eyes sparkled, a striking contrast to her wavy midnight hair as it flowed around her shoulders.

“You can see me.” She simply stated. Inuyasha just nodded, still unsure of what to say or do. Gripping the branch beneath his feet tightly, he still didn’t move as she turn and draped one leg over the branch, so she was straddling as she faced him. “What’s your name?”

Giving her a skeptical look, she merely laughed, her melodic voice filling the air around him. Feeling as if the world was being lifted from his shoulders, he gaped at her in shock while she continued to laugh. As she began to relax, he did too and mirrored her position on his own branch.

“Inuyasha.” He whispered, afraid to speak louder, thinking he would break whatever spell this was. This woman, this goddess, was something he couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he would never be able to forget this encounter for the rest of his long, lonely life.

“Inuyasha.” She repeated. The way his name sounds on her lips, he could die a happy man if that was the only thing she ever said to him again. Aching to hear it again, his ears wiggled in anticipation as she continued to speak. :The name is fitting for a handsome man like you. I like it, Inuyasha.”

At her compliment, he blushed, casting his eyes downward. He wasn’t used to such nice words, especially from a stranger. Most humans and demons only ever called him degrading names, hurling insults his way as he passed by villages looking for food. Hearing her call his name again questionably, he looked up.

“Do you not receive such praise?” She asked, sadness clear in her stormy eyes. Why did it make her sad? He wondered, as he shook his head. “Well, I hope I can make up for that. You know, most can’t see me, unless a god has decided it to be in their destiny.”

Inuyasha wasn’t sure to make of this woman, her last sentence confusing him completely. Was she not human? A ghost perhaps? Or a demon who was able to hide herself? Sniffing discreetly, he could only smell the soft scent of jasmine from her, her words speaking truth. Seeing the confused look on his face, she laughed once again, his ears twitching rapidly on his head.

“I am the Goddess of Fate.” She leaned in close and whispered, her eyes bright with mirth. “But you, Inuyasha, can call me Kagome.”

“The Goddess of what?” He sputtered at Kagome, staring at her in complete shock.

“Fate.” She giggled again, her perfectly manicured hand coming up to cover her mouth and his ears once again twitched madly at the sound. God, he was already in deep. “I’d rather you call me Kagome though. My mother, Themis, gave me the nickname when I was but a child. Legends have different names for me, most call me Moira or Fatum,” she shrugged, “depending on whatever religion they came from.”

“So, uh, what were you laughing at earlier?” Inuyasha asked, unsure of where to go from there, overwhelmed with the information, scratching his head as he continued to listen.

“Oh! I was pulling fate strings. My sister Aphrodite likes to have fun with human men and their love interests, so I was playing my hand at a couple who have been dancing around their feelings for each other. The woman though she is a feisty one, a bit of a warrior, so she won’t give into him easily.” Kagome exclaimed, her smile growing wider as she talked about the couple Inuyasha overheard earlier.

“Wait. You mean, you make them fall in love? Isn’t that like messing with destiny or some shit like that?” Inuyasha just stared at her, waiting for an explanation. This woman was clearly delusional.

“Inuaysha,” Kagome rolled her eyes and smiled softly at him, causing his heart to skip a beat at his name, “I am the Goddess of Fate! It is my job to intertwine earthly lives and such. I can’t make people fall in love, but I can set them, guide them, direct them along a path where they will be together with one who worships them. I use what many legends call the red string of fate to encourage them.” She held up a dainty hand, each finger with multiple thin red strings falling from her fingertips. Each strand went a different way, disappearing into the forest around them. When she lowered her hand, the strings disappear and she waited for his next question.

“You can do that with anyone?” He asked after a moment, his ears quivering in anticipation for her answer. Maybe she could help him, he suddenly realized, and that maybe he wouldn’t have to be alone. Nodding at him, she watched as he grew excited, her gaze rising to set upon his fluffy ears. He watched as she stared and twitched his right ear, watching her mouth open slightly, gaping at him. Preparing for the slur to fall from her lips, he cringed when she asked him a question.

“Can I touch your ears?” She whispered, so quietly, he wasn’t sure he had heard her right. She wanted to touch his ears? Who was she? He simply nodded and blinked at her with uncertainty as she brought herself closer, to the edge of her branch and reacher her slender arm out. Seeing that she was still a bit too far, he lowered his head and waited, closing his eyes in anticipation. No had touched his ears since his mother.

His ear twitched as soft fingers grazed over it, before stopping and rubbing the felt tip. Hearing her soft giggle once again, he flicked his ears and raised his head, waiting for her response. What he didn’t expect was her to be even closer, her wide grey eyes staring deep into his. Swallowing, he froze in terror, waiting for the disgusting remark about his demon heritage to come tumbling from her mouth and being completely shocked when she just smiled at him, not speaking. Her pink lips opened slightly as she smiled wider, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth and he was close enough, he could see the few light freckles that danced across her small nose. Taking a deep breath, unable to speak himself, he inhaled, his lungs filling with the overwhelming scent of jasmine. Her grey eyes watched his gold ones, an unknown emotion and longing filling both, Inuyasha felt like he suddenly couldn’t breathe. All he could see was her, a glimpse of a future with her, her scent intertwining with his own, her body beneath his as he devoured her. Feeling his gut churning in his stomach, he blinked, breaking himself free from her trance, knowing he couldn’t ever have a life like that.

Coughing and lowering his gaze, he fiddled with his robe sleeve as he heard Kagome get to feet. Looking up at her in question and a little bit of sadness, thinking she was already leaving him, Kagome held her hand out to him expectantly.

“Inuyasha,” she breathed, her grey eyes filled with excitement, “Would you like me to show you?”Deciding he could always come back for the deer carcass, his clawed hand gripped hers tightly as he stood on his feet.

#inuyasha #kagome #mirsan #inukag #inukago #red string of fate #inuyashaau #inuyasha au #love #romance #eventual smut #inuyahsa #wip #happy ending

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

DannyMay 2021 Day 03: Portal

Ingress

Summary: Vlad can't forget, and therefore can never forgive, what happened to him. But with knowledge of another, he wonders if the boy has the same yearly reminders.

Word Cut: 2582

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Vlad glared out the window of his office at the bright sunny day. The sky was that picture-perfect blue with the cute fluffy clouds to match. The first round of flowers were in bloom, and people were breaking out their sunglasses and shorts with more regularity. That only meant one thing.

Spring was here.

He didn’t use to hate springtime. It used to be his favorite time of year. He used to revel in the romance of the season.

Now it only made him irritable and reminded him of all that he had lost.

It was spring when he lost his chance with Maddie.

It was spring when Jack’s foolish antics had sent him to the hospital.

It was spring when he had his accident with the proto-portal.

And every spring since, his body reminded him.

Every spring, the same spring day, all the emotions he felt that day would come back. Each year compounding onto the next.

Sometimes he really wanted to just let go and forget the whole thing. He wanted to just enjoy his incredible wealth and the gift that his powers were.

But then it would be spring again and that all went out the window.

When he realized he wasn’t alone; when he found Daniel, he planned on warning him of the anniversary. He meant to tell the boy to be wary of what was to come.

But then they fought, and he really let his anger get the better of him.

He’d lost his chance to get the boy on his side and the warning slipped his mind.

Or it had until it was spring again and time for his annual reminder.

Time to relive that awful day but only the shadow of it. He would be skeptical of all the machinery around him. He would be filled with an untraceable and unending feeling of irritation of anyone and everyone.

Then at 4 pm, he had to make sure he was safely at home and secluded from anything sharp. He had to isolate himself because the phantom pains on his face made him want to peel his skin off.

And in the first couple of years in the hospital, he had attempted it.

The pain was unimaginable and, as far as those doctors were concerned, entirely in his head.

So once his yearly torture for not dying all those years ago had passed, he remembered young Daniel.

He wondered if the boy went through the same hell.

He never mentioned anything, but he wasn’t one to broadcast his pain. That boy was the grin and bear it type.

Whether that was a good or bad thing, Vlad had yet to determine.

He wasn’t sure how to bring up the conversation, certainly, the boy had his powers long enough to have passed his anniversary, right?

Unless he had passed it and nothing happened.

Maybe it was only Vlad who went through all that pain and misery. That would surely add insult to injury, wouldn’t it?

To find there is another like you only to realize that they aren’t like you at all. That they might even be better because they aren’t hindered by a terrible curse.

There was only one way to find out. He just had to be the proverbial fly on the wall. Obviously, he couldn’t actually be there himself, that would just be a waste of time and energy. He may be a reclusive billionaire, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a life.

He just needed to install a few cameras here and there and slip his way into the backdoors of other preexisting cameras.

Then he’d just check in every once in a while to see if the boy was like him after all. Maybe he could even monitor his progress remotely.

==============================================

There was a surprising amount of footage to go through in just the first month alone that Vlad could not reasonably go through it all on his own.

So then he looked into how to get assistance, without hiring anyone. That’s when Vlad happened to overhear Daniel’s tech-obsessed friend mentioned virtual assistants.

What impeccable timing.

==============================================

So learning enough code to program his own AI that was trained to focus on finding a piece of relevant information about the young half-ghost took more time than he would have liked, but he was nothing if not persistent.

As a little treat, he decided to model the AI after his beloved. Sure that took even more time, but if you’re going to design your own software you might as well have a little fun right? Put in your own flair.

==============================================

Eventually, other plans came to the forefront of his mind and he had nearly forgotten about the program’s initial purpose.

That is until it pinged him one chilly fall morning.

It noted that Daniel’s behavior was straying a bit from his normal.

Vlad looked into the current live feed and noted that the boy was a tad more skittish and fidgety than usual. Vlad monitored the situation for a while, but just assumed that maybe the boy was nervous about school or something. It was a new year after all.

Vlad shrugged it off and went about his day as normal.

==============================================

That was a mistake.

Vlad was relaxing at home after a long day at the office when the silence was broken by a loud shout from his front hall.

Daniel was calling his name and he sounded much too distraught for this to be a prank.

Vlad rushed to the boy and found he was a trembling mess. His clothes were rumbled and his hair was even more disheveled than he normally kept it. He ran a nervous hand through his already tousled hair and it only made it worse.

“Vlad you’ve gotta help.”

“With what?” What could have possibly gotten into the boy? Had his parents found out about his ghostly nature and not taken the news well?

If so, seeing that the teen came here, was either very flattering or a dire warning.

“It’s coming. I gotta get out of here. I don’t know where else to go. It’s coming.”

The boy’s eyes darted about the room as if he were a caged animal and Vlad was suddenly suspicious that maybe the child wasn’t in his right mind. Could he be drugged? He was much too much of a goody-two-shoes to partake in anything recreationally.

“What’s coming?” Vlad said as he tried to herd the boy into the sitting room. “I can’t help if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

“I don’t know. It’s big. It’s close.” Daniel suddenly jerked his head to look behind him as if he had heard a sudden noise.

Only there was no sound. It was just the two of them in the large manor.

“Daniel?” Vlad asked cautiously as he considered that maybe he should knock the boy out for his own safety.

He turned at the sound of his name and looked at Vlad as if he wasn’t expecting to find the man there. As if he hadn’t just walked into his house and started a conversation with him.

“Vlad! It’s coming! What do I do?” he reached out to the older man but his grip was too loose to actually hold on. He simply pressed his left hand against Vlad’s chest.

Before Vlad could answer Daniel froze and stared off into the distance just past Vlad’s shoulder. Vlad turned to follow the gaze but found nothing out of the ordinary.

He turned back to the boy and realized that his gaze was unfocused, whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t something Vlad would be able to find.

Daniel’s voice was barely a whisper as he breathed out a simple and yet chillingly ominous phrase, “It’s here.”

Then his body jolted violently erect as if he had been shot. His face shifted from fear to agony as he screamed the most blood-curdling scream Vlad had ever heard outside of a horror movie.

That was when he realized what was happening.

Vlad took a step back to give the boy some room mostly because he didn’t know what else there was to do.

The boys’ scream died out just as abruptly as it had started before he collapsed onto the carpet. His small frame twitching and spasming without any discernible pattern.

Vlad took another step back and pushed the nearby chair further into the room. He knew a seizure when he saw one.

He just never expected to see one tonight.

==============================================

It didn’t take long for Daniel’s body to still. He lost consciousness immediately and Vlad carefully carried him to the nearest guest room and stood vigil until the boy woke up again.

Vlad considered calling Jasmine, just to make sure Daniel didn’t have a history of seizures, but he decided to wait until the boy woke up instead.

In the meantime, he’d make a duplicate and have a cup of water ready.

Daniel woke up with a groan and blinked blearily as he tried to take in his surroundings.

Vlad wasn’t sure how much he was actually able to process with how out of it he looked, but the next place his eyes tracked was to his own body. Mainly his wrists and ankles.

It took Vlad a second to realize that the boy was checking to make sure he wasn’t being tied down.

Vlad tried not to wince too hard at that implication. Clearly, that happened more times than it should have if it was a habit to check.

Daniel blinked the drowsiness out of his eyes and finally found Vlad.

“Are you feeling better, Little Badger?”

“Yeah I think so.” he rubbed his arm and looked anywhere but Vlad, “sorry about just walking in and,” he hesitated, “doing whatever it was that I did.”

Vlad sighed and sat in the desk chair near the window, “It’s quite alright.” he paused and figured they may as well get this conversation on with already. “Do you know what that was?”

Daniel looked up, his face easily read how clueless and desperate for answers he was. Then he looked away and Vlad could practically hear the gears in that boy’s head turning.

“Because I believe I know. But I must ask you something first.”

The boy pressed his lips together and searched Vlad’s eyes for an ulterior motive. Vlad didn’t have one today. He honestly just wanted to talk.

He sighed and relented, “what’s your question?”

“How long have you had your powers?”

The curious tilt of the boy’s head showed just how little he knew about his own biology.

Although, thinking back, it took Vlad a few years before he saw the pattern himself.

“About a year now.”

“About? Or exactly?”

The boy might not do well academically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t brilliant. It only took him a few seconds to figure it out.

“It’s my death day?”

Although, that certainly was a morbid way to think about it.

“I suppose you could call it that.” Vlad had been referring to it as his rebirth day. Privately of course.

“Well what do you call it?” he asked immediately.

“It doesn't matter.” he was not going to tell him now. The boy would probably find some way to poke fun at it or something. He already called him a knock-off Dracula, he didn’t need to be teased anymore.

“So was I reliving what happened?” he put a finger to his lip as he thought, “But not exactly. It was mostly just the feeling of it.”

“Yes, I believe that’s it.”

“Do you think this happens to all ghosts? Or is it a Halfa thing?”

“Please don’t use that word in my house.”

“What, Halfa?”

“Yes!”

“Why not?”

Vlad sighed and realized that he honestly didn’t know any better, “It’s derogatory.”

The boy thought for a second then gasped, “It’s a slur?!”

“Yes. where did you learn it anyway?”

“Sydney.”

“Who?”

“Poindexter. He haunts the school. Or he used to until I broke his mirror. He’s from like, the fifties, or whatever.” he nodded to himself before adding, “which, you know, that tracks.”

Vlad wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he figured as long as the boy stopped using the word, it didn’t matter.

“You never answered my question.”

It was Vlad’s turn to be confused as he had completely forgotten the boy had asked anything of him.

“Is this thing for all ghosts or just us?”

“I don’t know. I doubt any ghost would be willing to admit to being that vulnerable and I tend to seclude myself on my anniversary.”

The boy just nodded thoughtfully before asking his next question, “So all I remember was being super paranoid all day and then,” the boy gripped the sheets and his voice shook on the last word “pain.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

“Not really? It’s all kind of a blur. I was just so sure something terrible was coming. Something big and dangerous, but inescapable.”

Vlad leaned back in his chair.

That sounded terrible.

The next question slipped out before Vlad had a chance to fully process it, “How close were you?”

Daniel’s face was uncharacteristically stoic as he gave his answer, “if you had a front-row seat, I was center stage.”

Vlad lost all sense of composure and let the utter horror show on his face.

The boy looked down to his hands, then his gaze shifted to favor his left, “I wonder if that means anything.”

Vlad couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. Vlad had been hurt, and terribly so, but what Daniel was alluding to…

“My friends don’t really like to talk about it. Well, I don’t either, but it’s not for the same reason.” he gently rubbed his right thumb in the palm of his left hand. Vlad wasn’t too sure what it meant, he assumed it had something to do with his accident. “I don’t like to talk about it, because it’s,” he paused, all the way down to his movements, then he blinked and continued, “it’s like a nightmare.”

He finally looked back up to Vlad again, “They don’t like talking about it, because it just reminds them about how unhuman I am. It just shows that I’m not fully alive.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, you’re alive!”

He had to be.

“Vlad, you can’t get ghost powers without dying.” Then he left out a single laugh, more of huff of air than anything, “Or maybe you can. Maybe you were able to cheat the system. Maybe you just got a high enough dose of contaminated ectoplasm to do what you do. But me?” he shook his head, “Maybe I’m only as dead as the people who get near-death experiences, but that still involves at least a little time being a corpse.”

“Do you have to word it like that?”

The boy shrugged and gave a little smirk, “No, but it’s fun to make you uncomfortable.” he hopped off the bed and transformed into his ghost form.

“Anyway, thanks for letting me crash, but I’m gonna head home now.” he gave a quick two-finger salute and then disappeared. The sound of the curtains billowing in the breeze he created on his exit was the only sign that he was truly gone.

Vlad just sighed and stared at the bed and watched the impression the boy had left slowly erase itself.

He couldn’t help but notice how much brighter his aura was tonight.

#dannymay 2021 #Danny Phantom #Phan Fic #Vlad Masters #Danny Fenton #Day 03 Portal #death day

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years ago

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Potential Breakup Fic

Yes, this is inspired by the re-release of the classic “Potential Breakup Song” by legends Aly & AJ. Check out the rest of my Masterlist HERE. Enjoy!

Word count: 2223

CW: Niggas aint shit. Kiana sat on her couch and tried not to cry into her glass of merlot. She took off her heels and got up to unzip her dress and take off her bra since she knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. She checked her phone again and was met with an empty screen. No notifications, no missed calls. She threw her phone down in anger, and was thankful when she noticed the screen didn’t crack.

“I can't believe this nigga.”

She looked at the clock and shook her head. It was 12:07am, and her 25th birthday was officially over without so much as a word from her boyfriend. Just last night he had told her to be ready by 7, and she hadn't heard from him since.

They had been together, on and off, for three years. They met their junior year at Howard, but didn’t hit it off right away. He was too slick for her liking, but over time he eventually weaseled his way into her heart. His smile lit up the whole room and his big brown eyes could seduce anyone just like that. And he did, constantly. T’Challa was a huge flirt, and it was cute when they were still single and just getting to know each other, but even now T’Challa turns his charm on for every pretty face he sees. Kiana had brought it up to him many times, letting him know how disrespected she felt. He would always say the same thing.

“But entle, I’m just being nice. You know I only have eyes for you.”

She did know that once, but that ended about a year and a half ago when she was casually scrolling through twitter on his phone and caught him cheating.

“T’Challa!”

“Yes, my love?”

“What the fuck is this?!”

“Why are you on my phone?!”

“Don't fucking raise your voice at me, I’m not in the wrong here. I saw a funny tweet and started scrolling when YOU got a text from some bitch named Jasmine talking bout ‘I miss you daddy’ and sending you pictures of her pussy. Care to explain?”

He reached for the phone and she pulled it away from him.

“Nah-uh, talk.”

He sighed in exasperation.

“If you give me the phone I can explain, sithan-”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me, answer the goddamn question. How long, T’Challa?!”

“Just once. Eh, one and a half maybe-”

He was interrupted by a throw pillow to the head.

“How the fuck do you halfway cheat nigga?!”

“She just gave me head the first ti-”

“That’s still cheating!”

“Will you lower your voice? You have neighbors.”

“Fuck! Them! Did you even use a condom?”

“Yes, Kiana I’m not-”

“Stupid? You’re not stupid?” Kiana laughed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“My love, I-”

“Oh now I’m your love? Where the fuck was that energy when you were balls deep in this other bitch?!”

T’Challa stood there dumbstruck. He had never seen Kiana get this angry and didn’t know what to say. He knew he was wrong when he did it, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made him truly regret what he’d done. She had been so busy with school and work that she barely had time for him anymore. He had needs and just so happened to stumble upon someone more than willing to fulfil them.

He cursed himself for not locking his phone or at the very least, turning it over.

“How many, T’Challa...” Kiana sniffled.

“I told you, it was only twice-”

“How many women?!”

He froze, not knowing if he should mention Lisa since that was so much earlier in their relationship.

“Oh my god...oh my god...oh my- are you fucking serious?! I-I have to...I have to go get tested, I-”

“Kia-”

“What?!”

She looked at him with such fierceness that he shrunk under her gaze.

“I-I am sorry, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I was-”

He was stopped by a heavy-handed slap across his cheek that nearly knocked him over.

“Get the fuck out.” She said, barely above a whisper.

Six months later they ran into each other in the grocery store and decided to catch up over a cup of coffee. Kiana had healed and moved on, but T’Challa was still stuck on her. They had spent almost two good years together before he ruined what they had, and he just couldn’t let it go. He loved her, and he was determined to make it work this time.

Or so he really, truly thought before he met Marci...and Tanisha...

T’Challa knew he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he just couldn’t let Kiana go. His dalliances were never serious, just enough to scratch his constant itching. Sometimes they were a one-time thing, but others stuck around if they were good enough and knew how to be discreet. No matter what though, he always came back home to Kiana because despite his trash behavior, he really did love her in his own toxic way.

However, he didn’t love her enough to double check his calendar before leaving work on her birthday, or any day leading up to it. He had forgotten what day it was, and when he told Kiana to be ready at 7 he just meant for a regular date night.

It had been a long day at the Wakandan Embassy and Kiana’s Prince Charming needed a drink more than anything. He stopped at the first bar he came across that looked halfway decent. T’Challa walked up to the bar and caught the eye of the beautiful barkeep.

“Hiya, what can I do for you?”

T’Challa smiled his panty-dropping smile and she smiled back, revealing her perfect, white teeth. There was nothing he loved more than a pretty smile.

“Well, miss…”

“Tanisha,” she responded while using both arms to mix a shaker full of liquid courage and ice. His eyes avoided her chest, slyly watching in the periphery only.

“Well, Miss Tanisha, I had a horrible day at work and I am in need of a whiskey on the rocks. Preferably Jack, but truly anything will do.”

“We all have those days honey. Here’s a double on the house,” she said as she slid the drink to him across the bar top with a wink.

T’Challa licked his lips and lifted his glass to her before taking a sip of the warm amber liquid. He let out a sigh and his day seemed to melt away.

Tanisha kept coming back to check on him and they would chat when the crowd died down. T’Challa was on his third double when she came over with a plate of wings.

“You’re an angel.” He dug into the wings and made a complete mess on his shirt, so he went to the bathroom to try to wash the stain out. On his way back to the bar he noticed a very tall and sweaty man leaning over the bar trying to talk to Tanisha. From what he could see, she wasn’t feeling the conversation, but he kept approaching her anyway. When T’Challa returned to his seat she immediately gravitated towards him. This angered Mr. Tall and Sweaty, who drunkenly attempted to punch T’Challa in the face. T’Challa dodged the lazy punch and knocked him out cold with one hit. Security saw the whole thing go down, and removed Tall and Sweaty from the building once he came to.

“What you got planned for the night, handsome?”

“Nothing at all, why do you ask?”

“I get off at 9, wanna hang out?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, now here’s a water.”

“Thank you, angel.”

By 10pm he was already halfway inside her, and when his phone started vibrating he was too wrapped up in her to think anything of it. Without looking he quieted the annoying sound and turned the phone off so he could focus on the task at hand.

Two and a half hours later, T’Challa was creeping out of Tanisha’s bed right as Kiana was sliding into hers. She had washed off all her makeup, but she didn’t have the emotional energy to tie up her hair. Normally she would wear one of T’Challa’s t-shirts, but she was too angry with him so she slept in a cute nighty she never wore. She admired herself in the mirror for half a second before bursting into tears and pulling the covers up to her head. She tried to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and she eventually gave herself a headache. How could he miss her birthday?

Kiana got up and threw on her plush maroon robe before she padded to the bathroom to grab some Advil. On the way she noticed her phone getting multiple notifications, the first of which was from her best friend Bebe.

“Have u seen this?! Sis, I’m so sorry. When we slashing his tires? Just 3 tho, this nigga needs to pay $$$.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?”

Kiana clicked the link and saw that it was Bebe’s cousin Darrell’s Instagram Story. Apparently there was a fight at the bar where he was celebrating a coworker’s promotion and he had filmed it for all of Instagram to see. Kayla stared at her phone in shock. There was her aint-shit boyfriend at a goddamn bar on her fucking birthday. She watched him punch a guy in the face on her birthday. At a bar. Without her.

She thought the kicker came when she saw him turn around and flirt with the bartender, but the story after that just about killed her. There he was, leading her out the back door with his hand too far down on her lower back to be simply platonic. Even the caption read “Ooooh someone’s about to get some ‘thank you’ pussy. That damsel in distress pussy hit different!”

Kiana saw red and almost cracked her phone for a second time tonight.

She grabbed the remaining merlot and downed it before throwing the bottle at the picture of them on the fridge. She watched the glass shatter and cut their faces while the trace bit of deep red wine seeped down the picture like blood. She wanted to trash the whole place, but remembered she would have to clean it later. Kiana started to hyperventilate and felt like she needed to get some air when she heard the lock turn.

“Kiki, what are you doin- are you ok? What happened here?”

Kiana ignored him as she walked towards where she threw her phone, silently pulling up the story and handing it to him. She watched his face go from confused, to shocked, to fearful. No regret, though.

“Ki-”

“Give me your key.”

“Kiana, please let me-”

“The key. Now,” she said with her voice completely devoid of any emotion.

T’Challa assumed she would be angry and yell or throw things, but this quiet storm terrified him. To him, it felt like she didn’t even care anymore. He was right.

He slowly reached his hand out and she snatched the key ring, removing hers and tossing the rest back to him.

“I’ll have your stuff packed by the morning. It’ll be outside my door by 8am. If it’s still there when I get back from work it’s going in the trash.”

T’Challa couldn’t bear the coldness in her voice. Tears rolled down his face and his knees buckled.

“Kiana, please. I can explain, I didn-”

“I don't give a fuck what you did or didnt do. You know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because it was my birthday, T’Challa. MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY and YOU forgot it. Not only did you forget it, my gift was you fucking some other bitch and leaving me lonely yet again. So no, I don't care if you fucked her or not even though I know your sorry ass did. I know she’s probably not the only one because I saw how easily you slid on in there in that video. You were way too comfortable, so I don't even want to ask you how many because it doesnt fucking matter anymore. Now you can stick your dick in every fine ass Black girl you see without remorse, oh wait...you were already doing that. So fuck you, get out my apartment before I call my brothers.”

“Kiana…”

“5, 4, 3,...” Kiana counted as she dialed her eldest brother Trey’s number, ignoring T'Challa's pathetic excuses. “2, 1… Hey Trey, I’m sorry did I wake you up?...Yeah I have a situat- oh look at that, his bitch ass is leaving-”

“I am sorry, Kiana,” T’Challa said one last time before she slammed the door in his face. He could hear her on the other side of the door explaining the situation to her brother, and when she started to cry it finally hit him. Her wails broke his spirit and more tears fell from his eyes.

He knew Trey would be over soon to comfort his baby sister and he needed to get the hell out of dodge, so T’Challa left Kiana’s apartment and never came back. Not even for his things, which turned out to be the best thing for Kiana because she and her girls got to burn it all up in Trey’s backyard fire pit and finally release that toxic man from her life.

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #tchalla fic #tchalla x oc #angst #niggas aint shit #aly & aj #potential breakup song

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mymadmedleyw · 3 years ago

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Family / Friends

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

---

Vlad Masters was staring at the nicely designed card, telling a tale which he didn't want to ever face in his life. Wedding invitation. For him. From Jack Fenton. With a name next to his old college friend's that he never believed to see except next to his own. But looking at it, several times, in the past years, slowly it reached his mind to accept it. Not move on, no, just- accept it somehow. After all, on the hard days – and god, there was many – the only thing that made him fight day after day stuck in the damn, inhabitant, locked down white room was the memory of Madeline. Maddie, he reminded himself many times, she liked being called Maddie. And even that had a very good ringing. Maddie… so lovely, so nice, so kind…

Vlad drew out a breath and changed the invitation card to the picture with details on the back. It said the information about their first child, called Jasmine Fenton. The small girl yet was so tiny, but he could identify the genetics, the kindness behind the eyes, just as her mother's. Mother… and the father was Jack Fenton. Vlad leaned back to the pillows, that were done to ease on his internal system after the seizure from yesterday night to keep him in a more settled sitting position.

He calculated that taking breath harder, and feeling himself defeated and numb was only thanked to the exhaustion that his body had tried to keep him alive, accompanied by the many drugs they had given him. Yes, it wasn't about looking back on what had happened with his friends in the past years, while he was still isolated by an incurable illness. (Hardly, the doctors could handle the aftermath of a ripped opened portal in his face to another realm…) And least, over the years his face wasn't a mess, but for safety reason, he was not safe to visit. And he hated that every time when for some unexplainable reason he had a new seizure, he had to wait until the doctors dressed up to a suit, in case of emitting contamination.

He was alive, yes, they tried to tell him many times, but- what meant being alive if everyone outside of this hospital room had a life, while he didn't? Everyone moved on, even the one – so easily – who stole his life. He had time to look back to his accident, so then he measured from every angle to understand how he deserved this, but over every attempt to perceive it, just make it more and more the earlier missed details came to his sight. Jack Fenton was an idiot, a careless idiot, worse even than a child with an attention problem. And he had taken a research-work, worth a discovery of a lifetime into that man's hand. Vlad had corrected the calculation, had sent to Madeline to run the checks on it before they would have finished with the building of the Proto-Portal, but no. Jack Fenton had been too excited to give those to the woman who was way smarted than they two altogether would ever be. The calculations had never arrived to her, those had been never modified to a stable level, instead… instead, there had been used Jack Fenton's drafts, not checked, not scientifically proofed, not-

Vlad took a shaky breath, to calm his body down, which again started to fill up with the pulling coldness. No, he couldn't allow himself another seizure. Not after yesterday. If he had a falling apart internal system, they would have never let him out, ever. He had to be better. He wouldn't survive another five years in this room. So then, hardly, but he closed his eyes, trying to fight against the spreading unearthly sensation travelling through his limbs. Sometimes it was just in a form of ineffectiveness to gravity, sometimes making him unable to hold objects and dropping those out of his hands, and sometimes… worse. Worse meant, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to have a pulse and- every time when he had a new symptom what over he managed to step over, causing him a lifetime of freaking out, he had a terrible headache and an awful aching in his entire body.

Vlad couldn't tell which was worse, or which would be worse after all those years. Simply letting it happen, not taking any steps anything against it, just give up the fight or fight until it would make him exist in this eternal circle, seizures and the wretchedness after it? Maybe he just should have let it take over his body… maybe he just should have once let it him cease to exist or what that contamination was doing with him. After all, he wouldn't be ever more a mess, than he already was, right?

To that thought, he changed the picture to the lately sent one. He yet didn't dare to open the letter – obviously sent by the dear Jack Fenton, to make a report about their dream-like life. (He wasn't envying it from Maddie, she deserved a great life, a wonderful life, but from Jack…) Then he slowly, still numbed by the medicines, and still afraid of how his hand would react from one second to another (flickering between visible and invisible or simply making things falling out of his hold), he only carefully opened it, getting out another written note. He didn't care about that, the added small picture told more than the words. This time it was a black and white one, he had to concentrate to perceive what it wanted to be: an ultrasound picture. He turned it around, the rough handwriting twisted his heart. A boy, Vladdie! I will have a son too!

Vlad gazed at the time of the letter, the date in the corner of the picture. Most of the time he avoided the letters, sometimes because he needed strength to open them, sometimes it was just days, or weeks later, when he was in a bad mood, or too drained out, but this- this was sent months ago. Based on his biology knowledge (he spent his time here to at least do something useful and not being a miserable doomed someone, slowly waiting for death) and his quick calculations, the realisation made him skipping a heartbeat, skipping entirely to breathe. Jack Fenton would have a son today. A dream would become reality, a model of a great life, a counterpart of his suffering…

Vlad slowly put down the picture in his lap, not even caring this time with his flickering hand, or the trembling of his whole body. He just simply closed his eyes, tilting back his head to the pillows, murmuring under his nose – not that anyone could hear his words (and what he had learned during the past years, indeed, there never was anyone to listen)…

"I wish- I wish I would have told you that time Maddie…"

#going angst week 2021 #going angst week #danny phantom #vlad masters

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highchiefkatara · 4 years ago

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I can’t stop thinking about an ATLA/schitts creek au that I’ll never write but here are the thoughts that have been consuming me:

- when Ozai attempts to usurp Iroh and steal the throne everything goes sideways

- Azulon orders Ozai to kill his first born but instead of Ursa simply offering asssistance in exchange for Zuko’s life to be spared and her own exile, the fire lady strikes a deal

- She will help Ozai take the throne IF he lets them disappear and stay anonymous (but also fabulously wealthy). Tell advisors/the public that the kids are attending some fancy, elite fire bending school at an undisclosed location and that she’s going on sabbatical

- Ursa takes the kids while Ozai gets everything hes always wanted and all he has to do is foot the bill for the lifestyle Ursa intends on having

- home girl takes the kids and they all live in the lap of luxury at a secret ember island resort

- somehow Iroh (now no longer the crown prince) finds out about the deal and joins up with the family a couple years later

- Azula and Zuko are the spoiled brats they were always supposed to be

- neither of them are especially concerned with fire bending because their father is no longer around to encourage that competition

- that said Zuko is older so technically he had officially finished learning his basics, Azula technically hasn’t

- meanwhile Ursa is rediscovering her passions like theater and being the most dramatic and interesting woman in the world

- Iroh is vibing and drinking tea

- canon kinda happens and Aang defeats Ozai but bureaucracy is a bitch and nobody can find the heirs so the monarchy is dissolved

- MANY years pass

- republic city is founded the gaang gets established

- FINALLY after going through mountains of paperwork someone finally notices an old palace account that is still being used

- Ursa, Iroh, Zuko, and Azula have been living it up for YEARS completely self absorbed and uninformed about the rest of the world when a republic representative knocks on their door and catches everyone up to speed

- it goes over surprisingly well until the rep mentions that the family is now cut off and their assets are being absorbed to help aid in reparations and reconstruction projects

- with no where else to go the family is offered a spot in a republic city revitalization program

- they’re offered an old building and all they have to do is fix it up and make something of it

- the jasmine dragon is born

The rest is... a lot but here’s how everyone else ties in

- Aang is the figurehead of republic city with lots of important avatar duties

- Katara and Toph have founded a bending school that specializes in water and metal bending (I imagine Suki is also in here somewhere)

- fire bending is still somewhat... unpopular. so the master that teaches the class... kinda sucks

- azula knows he sucks and wants to replace him but she hasn’t passed her master’s licensing (that’s a thing in this au)

- Mai kinda comes with the Jasmine dragon and befriends Zuko who is just The Worst

- (similar to Stevie/David I do imagine a weird drunken hook up for them)

- ty lee = twyla with the sweet girl next door vibes (her big secret reveal is that she can actually kill a man with her thumb)

- Iroh loves the jasmine dragon, Ursa just wants to get back into acting, Azula wants to find her fire, and zuko hates everything UNTIL

- he meets the cute, bureaucratic, brother of the scariest water bender he’s ever seen, brother-in-law to the avatar, mastermind behind the fall of the fire nation, very important city council member, Sokka

- Sokka can also be categorized as an organized mess who doesn’t know how to talk to cute boys

I can’t write this but if this inspires someone PLEASE run with it. Also if anyone wants to continue talking about this please let me know I have SO MANY ideas.

#Zukka au #schitts creek au #zuko #sokka #ATLA fic idea #I will literally never be able to write this #i don’t have the attention span #I pray this inspires someone far more capable than myself #zukka #I can’t stop thinking about Ursa acting like Moira #schitts creek/ATLA crossover

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lady-of-the-lotus · 4 years ago

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Xue Yang's ritual to resurrect Xiao Xingchen in Lan Xichen's body has failed.

Unfortunately for the wounded, guilt-wracked Lan Xichen, Xue Yang doesn't seem to realize this. All he knows is that he's finally got his daozhang back...

Stroking his hair, Xue Yang kisses his forehead, so gently that Lan Xichen almost cries. He doesn’t deserve this tenderness. Lan Xichen doesn’t, rather. But Xiao Xingchen— Xiao Xingchen deserves everything.

Xue Yang/Lan Xichen & Xuexiao - E - Ch. 1 Ch. 2 on Tumblr - AO3

Chapter 3 - The Coffin

Xue Yang’s fever breaks the next morning.

Lan Xichen sits up from where he’s fallen asleep at the table pushed near the bed. A light doze, plagued by nightmares. “How do you feel?”

Xue Yang blinks in the pale gold light streaming through the uncovered windows, then snatches at the bed as if reaching for the sword he slept beside before returning to Yi City.

“Jiangzai is safe!” Lan Xichen says before Xue Yang can panic at the missing sword. They’ve been through this many times over the past few days. “I even cleaned it for you.”

Xue Yang relaxes slightly. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen crosses the room to fill a bowl with cold rice. “You went out in the cold rain to fix the roof.”

“You don’t get sick from cold,” scoffs Xue Yang. His voice is hoarse, but it’s back to its old teasing, flippant self, with the new note of fondness it’s acquired since coming to the Coffin House. “I’ve been cold and wet more times than I can count.”

Lan Xichen imagines a young Xue Yang huddled outside in the rain and feels a twinge of—not regret, as there had been nothing he could have done about it while it was happening, but something akin to it.

“Your infection didn’t help matters,” he says, closing Xue Yang’s fingers around the bowl.

“Infection?”

Lan Xichen pours him a cup of water. He’s been trying to get him to drink for days, with little cooperation. “You can’t let things go like that again.”

Xue Yang grins through a mouthful of rice. “ ‘Again’? You think I’m going to run around getting slashed up by qi-deviating clan leaders again, daozhang?”

Daozhang. So he’s Xiao Xingchen again….

“Is that what happened to you?”

Xue Yang’s smile vanishes. “He attacked me.”

“Were you two…friends?”

Xue Yang shovels rice into his mouth, avoiding looking at Lan Xichen. “He reminded me of you,” he says, almost hesitantly. “Much better manners, of course, having been raised by gentry.” He grins to himself, as if Xiao Xingchen’s unusual upbringing is an old joke between them, but it’s not much of a smile.

“You sound rather...displeased with the man.”

“He turned on me,” Xue Yang says shortly, “as I always knew he would…I tried to help him, and he tried to strangle me.” Almost unconsciously he touches a hand to the pallid skin of his throat, and memories of purple bruises mottling that same throat spring to Lan Xichen’s mind.

Lan Xichen can’t imagine why he’d hurt Xue Yang. Why he’d do something like that to a smaller, weaker man—to anyone. The time before the Coffin House is increasingly hazy. A former life, a bad dream…

But despite not wanting to, he can remember that day at the Chang Manor, the bright blazing pain of that day like a beacon.

Lan Xichen had been distraught. Xue Yang had restored A-Yao to life, only for him to vanish in the morning. Temporarily, but Lan Xichen hadn’t known that, and he’d blamed Xue Yang...

But it wasn’t Xue Yang’s fault, A-Yao’s state of limbo. If anything, Xue Yang had done everything in his power to bring A-Yao back to him…

And A-Yao’s final decision to leave for good had not been Xue Yang’s fault. That had been A-Yao’s choice.

…No. He couldn’t blame A-Yao. A-Yao had simply done what he had to after Lan Xichen had destroyed everything about himself that A-Yao might have cared for.

And Xue Yang…

Lan Xichen has been avoiding these thoughts, but they break in on him now.

Xue Yang had tried sacrificing Lan Xichen to bring Xiao Xingchen back. Lan Xichen knows this.

But he, Lan Xichen had done far worse in his quest to bring back A-Yao, and unlike Xue Yang, Lan Xichen had a clan, a position, a life…

A family.

Who is Lan Xichen to judge someone such as Xue Yang?

He rises and refills Xue Yang’s bowl.

Xue Yang’s eyes follow him around the room.

“You’re wearing your old robes,” he says.

Lan Xichen glances down at his robes. They’re Xiao Xingchen’s white ones. “I thought you might like them.”

“No, no, of course not,” Xue Yang says teasingly. He’s…he’s blushing.

Lan Xichen bows, smiling despite himself. “I can take them off, if you’d like.”

Xue Yang laughs, wagging a finger. “Let’s wait until your stitches are out.”

"I..." Lan Xichen swallows and glances at A-Qing on the porch, hoping she hadn't overheard. He's been trying to avoid thinking of that terrible night together, of Xue Yang's hand inside his robes, of Xue Yang's tongue on his—on his—

Xue Yang laughs again, perhaps at the look on Lan Xichen’s face, and closes his eyes with his forehead slightly creased, as if he somehow doesn't want to see the white robes drifting around the Coffin House again. Though Lan Xichen thinks he must be imagining that part. Xue Yang is tired, that's all....

“Can you fix my hair later?” Xue Yang murmurs, long after Lan Xichen supposed he was asleep.

“Fix…”

“Braid it, like you used.” Xue Yang rolls over, pulling the covers up so only his eyes are visible. “I’ve been waiting for you to offer...”

Lan Xichen has never braided hair before, but he nods. “Once my wrist feels better,” he promises, though in truth it no longer pains him. He’ll have to practice on his own hair.

Xue Yang nods sleepily and drifts off.

It takes Xue Yang several days to recover his strength.

He spends most of them sleeping.

Lan Xichen cooks, changes his bandages and, while he sleeps, sketches, being sure to hide the drawings. There’s a large store of fresh paper and ink in the house, as if Xue Yang had prepared it for Xiao Xingchen somewhat recently.

On the third day Xue Yang gets out of bed. A-Qing sits in the doorway as usual, watching him with sightless eyes, while Lan Xichen sets the table.

Xue Yang kneels in front of the shelves in the corner, prying open a small casket Lan Xichen didn’t notice until now. Humming to himself, he messes around at the stove, pouring hot water into a small cup. He sets it down before Lan Xichen, eyes fixed closely on his face.

Lan Xichen sniffs at the fragrant steam curling up from the cup. “Is that…”

Every tooth in Xue Yang’s head is showing. “Jasmine tea. Your favorite.”

Jasmine has never been on Lan Xichen's list of teas he enjoys, but he blows on the steaming cup and takes a sip.

“It’s good,” he says, trying not to breathe through his nose. “Thank you.”

Xue Yang comes to stand behind him, slipping his arms around Lan Xichen, chin resting on his white-clothed shoulder.

“Wasn’t easy to find,” he says, nuzzling his ear, then pulls away.

Lan Xichen doesn’t eat much that night. He’s quite thin, but Xiao Xingchen’s robes are still a bit snug around his middle thanks to his larger bone structure. There isn’t much rice left, anyway. Tomorrow they won’t have anything to eat at all.

They sit at the table after dinner, Xue Yang with his brush poised over a sheet of paper, A-Qing motionless in the doorway, and Lan Xichen with a second cup of the vile tea. From the distance comes the haunting trill of a night bird, and the breeze from the open door is cool but not cold. A sprinkle of stars is visible in the crystal-clear sky, an enormous full moon casting long black shadows.

It’s…peaceful.

“The autumn wind enters through the window,

The gauze curtain starts to flutter and fly.

I raise my head and look at the bright moon,

And send my feelings a thousand miles in its light,” Lan Xichen recites.

“Winter wind.”

“…winter wind,” Lan Xichen corrects himself, though the poem, by an anonymous poet, is entitled “Midnight Song of the Seasons: Autumn Song.”

Xue Yang finishes the last stroke and lays the brush down. “I like this one.” He tugs at his hair, hard enough to hurt. Lan Xichen doesn’t think Xue Yang quite understands why poetry has an effect on him, or would be willing to admit it if he did. Or perhaps it’s all simply because it’s the daozhang’s poetry. He winks teasingly at Lan Xichen. “Better than all that stuff about flowers and birds and sunshine you used to write...”

He carries Xue Yang to bed that night after Xue Yang falls asleep at the table. He lays him out gently and pulls down the window's paper curtains so that they're not woken too early by the sunlight. He slides into bed beside Xue Yang but doesn't lie down. He's exhausted from days of tending to Xue Yang when his own strength is diminished, but he's afraid of falling asleep.

Sleep brings dreams.

There’s ink on Xue Yang’s face from where he fell asleep with his face on the table. Lan Xichen fights the urge to lick his finger and wipe the ink off.

Xue Yang’s face has lost much of its boyishness these past few weeks, the fever and wound taking their toll. He looks older, more worn, his once disarmingly innocent face finally matching how Lan Xichen views him.

Except…Xue Yang has been more like a besotted puppy these past few weeks than the hardened monster his reputation made him out to be.

Most of the rumors about A-Yao had been untrue…

Lan Xichen tries to shove the thought away, but another one springs up in its place like a corrupting weed: Xiao Xingchen couldn’t have fallen in love with the kind of man people made Xue Yang out to be.

Which must mean that…that…

Ridiculous. He knows it. And yet…

A-Qing rises and closes the door, shutting out the moonlight, and cocks her head at Lan Xichen.

He knows what that means. He wouldn’t have thought to look at her, but A-Qing, with no other entertainment, has developed quite a taste for poetry.

“Excerpt from ‘Last Night the Wind and Rain Together Blew’ by Li Yu,” he obligingly, keeping his voice low.

“Last night the wind and rain together blew,

The wall-curtains rustled in their autumn song.

The candle died, the water-clock was exhausted,

I rose and sat, but could not be at peace.

Man's affairs are like the flow of floodwater,

A life is just like floating in a dream…”

A mountain of white-robed corpses comes to him in his sleep that night, piled to the sky. Waterfalls of blood pour down the sides, gushing from beneath the once-stainless white robes, forming a crimson lake surrounding the towering island of dead cultivators.

He starts awake, heart hammering. Xue Yang murmurs something intelligible and draws him closer, arm around his chest, warm and solid and firm, but Lan Xichen can’t fall back asleep. He’s up early the next morning, still tired. To the accompaniment of the drumming of the rain that began overnight and the steady dripping of the leaky roof, he sifts through Xue Yang’s clothes until he finds a meticulously-maintained pale silk coin purse that seems out of place among Xue Yang’s belongings.

Lan Xichen wonders how Xue Yang survived before he came to the Cloud Recesses. Stealing? Certainly not begging. Perhaps he’d scrounged off the goodwill bought by his Xiao Xingchen mask?

“You stay here and watch over him,” he tells A-Qing. “Is there anything you would like me to buy you?”

He’s relieved when she gives a slight shake of her head. Xue Yang’s purse holds only a few coins, and he wouldn’t want to disappoint her.

He heads out into the rainwashed courtyard. A tapping sound stops him at the gate. A-Qing stands behind him, extending her stick to him.

“I couldn’t—”

She nods.

Lan Xichen bows. “Thank you, A-Qing. Now, why don’t you go inside out of the rain?”

The thin white material of his blindfold is already soaked, and he can see relatively clearly through the wet material and by peering out from underneath it, but he’s glad to have the stick as he ventures out of the courtyard for the first time.

He’s faced battle countless times without so much as a tremor, but his heart pounds as he taps his way past the abandoned houses surrounding the Coffin House courtyard and heads deeper into the city.

He isn’t sure what he’ll find. It’s been suspiciously quiet in the Coffin House’s corner of the city. But he finds shops in the center of town, and houses, though the city appears to be sparsely populated and run-down. The rain has emptied the streets, and he meets only the occasional pedestrian and a single donkey-drawn cart.

“This isn’t enough to pay for the vegetables or basket,” says the young man at one of the few stalls open despite the rain. He pokes at the coins set down on the table. “Just the rice.”

Lan Xichen swallows. He’d had no idea how much fresh food cost. Servants had always taken care of it, or Xue Yang. “I—I don’t have any more money.”

The young man starts to empty the basket. “Come back when you do, then.”

“A-Tong!” An old woman’s voice, shocked. “Are you being rude to the daozhang?”

He can’t see him clearly, but Lan Xichen imagines the young man making a face. An old woman-shaped shadow approaches him from the run-down house behind the stall.

“Is it really you?” The old woman bows low. “The daozhang, come back to us! My eyes are failing, but I would recognize you anywhere.”

Lan Xichen ducks his head, wondering just how bad her vision is. “Madam.”

“The daozhang, come back to us! I knew you would return. The good daozhang, returned to help us!” She bows again, and Lan Xichen averts his eyes.

It’s Xiao Xingchen she’s bowing at, not him. If she knew the things he had done—

“It’s been difficult since you left us, daozhang. Nobody cares enough to build a watchtower nearby, and there's talk of fierce corpses roaming the forest outside the city…” She bows yet again. “But now that you’re back, everything will be all right again. Here. Take this. Your money is no good here.” She fills the basket with vegetables. “You’ll have to come back when the rain stops for the rice. It’ll spoil in the rain.”

Lan Xichen returns her bows. He knows he shouldn’t be so affected by her kindness, that it’s merely another testament to the goodness and purity of the man whose name he’s soiling, but he is. “I am most grateful, madam. And if someone could help me find my way back to the Coffin House, I—”

“Anything for the good daozhang. A-Tong! Show the daozhang to the Coffin House!”

A-Tong glances curiously at Lan Xichen as they walk.

“I’ve heard about you,” he says. “And your friend in black. About how you used to protect the city and the village around here, and then you disappeared and left us on our own. Don’t know why my grandmother gave you all the free food. As if we can afford it! If it were up to me—”

He talks all the way to the Coffin House—not quite the Coffin House. He stops when they're just in sight of the courtyard.

“I’m not stepping foot within a hundred feet of that cursed place,” he says.

Lan Xichen wonders what happened here. Considers asking Xue Yang, decides against it. Doesn’t matter. It’s…

It’s home. For lack of a better word.

“Well, go on then,” says A-Tong. He turns and walks off, not soon enough for Lan Xichen, who had found himself wishing Xue Yang were there many times during the walk. Xue Yang would have had no compunctions about punching the young man in the face—

He winces. Since when are his thoughts so violent?

As if imagining a punch is any worse than what you’ve already done?

Xue Yang is pacing the porch when he returns.

“Where were you?” he demands, following Lan Xichen into the house. He tugs almost anxiously at the long thin wisps of hair framing his face. “I thought—”

Lan Xichen sets the basket down on the table. “We needed more food.”

“Yes, but…” Xue Yang grips the back of a chair. “You can’t just run off like that. You’re not fully recovered. You almost fainted the other day...”

Lan Xichen hands A-Qing her stick and lights the stove. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

“I feel much better.” Xue Yang relaxes his grip on the chair, but he does it with a forced casualness. “Did anyone remember you…?”

“An old woman.”

“And she recognized you…? Did anyone else see you?”

“Her grandson.”

“What was her name?”

“I didn’t get a name, but she called her grandson A-Tong. A rather…unprepossessing young man.”

For the first time in weeks—months?—the thought of Gusu Lan’s rules flash through Lan Xichen’s mind.

Rule 900: Do not hold grudges

Rule 901: Love all beings

Rule 1,019: Speak not ill of others

Odd that memory of the rules should return over something so innocuous, of all things…

He tries blinking the thoughts away, but to his surprise, the words lie warmly in his mind, beckoning to him.

How much easier things were back then. How comforting it was to have a ready-made trellis upon which to wind his life. A proven morality, a sense of structure, a set path.

Too late for that now. Can’t go back. Can never go back.

Not now.

Not anymore….

But they’re coming for him. He’s certain of this. Any day now he expects to see the white of the Lan as they invade the grim gray peace of Yi City, any day he expects to be whisked away in spirit-binding ropes.

Back to the Cloud Recesses. To the one place he can never return to.

Even if he could go back…

He’s no longer Lan Xichen, Zewu-Jun, the Lan’s Clan Leader.

He’s…something else, now.

Someone else.

“A-Tong, and his grandmother the grocer. I know who that is…don’t run off like that again, daozhang.” Xue Yang bites his lip, drawing blood, then reaches for the collar of Lan Xichen’s soaking wet robes and tugs it aside slightly, revealing Lan Xichen’s collarbone.

Lan Xichen’s skin still crawls at his touch, but…Xue Yang’s hands are warm, and Lan Xichen’s skin is cold, and Lan Xichen welcomes the gentle heat.

Xue Yang brushes a thumb over his clammy wet skin, gazing at his exposed collarbone as if looking for a symbol he can’t find, perhaps one of the bruises he’s marked Lan Xichen with. His hands slide down to Lan Xichen’s waist, as if measuring it. Lan Xichen can just fit into Xiao Xingchen’s wide gray belt, but despite Lan Xichen’s thinness, it’s snug.

“You should change into dry clothes,” Xue Yang says, and he abruptly turns and heads out of the house.

Lan Xichen glances at A-Qing, glad that she couldn’t see Xue Yang’s hands on him. She shrugs as if she could see his glance and goes to sit on the porch.

After changing into dry clothes Lan Xichen busies himself with boiling water and slicing radishes, the extent of his culinary skills. After a few minutes he hears a scraping sound coming from outside and a rustling, thumping sound from the roof.

“Be careful!” he calls up through a window. "Wait till after the rain stops."

"Sure, sure. The roof is leaking."

He goes outside and peers up at Xue Yang, who’s perched on the roof. “I mean it, Chengmei.”

“Go nag A-Qing.” Back to his usual cheerful self, Xue Yang flashes a grin at him over the dripping edge of the roof and disappears again.

Shaking his head, Lan Xichen goes returns to the house.

“The grocer told me there are fierce corpses in the forest,” he tells Xue Yang as they eat the boiled eggplant and radishes, something Xue Yang gratifyingly declares to be as good as anything Xiao Xingchen cooked in the past.

Xue Yang looks up. His hair is still damp, and he gives off the impression of a wet black kitten. “Are they killing people? That’s good—I mean, it’s great that we’ll get to night hunt again.”

“Not until you’re stronger. You’ll get yourself killed in your condition."

“I was crawling around on the wet roof, no problem—”

“We’re waiting until you’re back to yourself,” says Lan Xichen firmly. “We can’t have you getting hurt.”

Xue Yang swallows hard. “Anything you want.”

Lan Xichen hesitates. “There is something else.”

“Anything!” And then, as if ashamed by his response, Xue Yang shrugs and repeats, “I mean, you know, if it’s not too hard.”

Lan Xichen lowers his voice. “A-Qing. What is she, exactly? She’s not a fierce corpse.”

Xue Yang glances at A-Qing sitting still and silent in the doorway. “I don’t actually know. Some form of ghost, I’ve always figured, or maybe a new breed of fierce corpse.”

“We need to set her at rest.”

Xue Yang frowns. “Kill her?”

“Of course not. We need to make sure she’s sent off properly.”

“Before she kills me.” Xue Yang grins teasingly. “Sometimes I think she’s haunting me.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t bother asking what Xue Yang might have done to deserve this. Couldn’t be anything worse than what Lan Xichen has done…

“She’s had plenty of chances to harm you since we got here, and hasn’t,” he points out instead.

Xue Yang turns towards where A-Qing is in her usual spot at the door. “You hear that, A-Qing? Oblige the daozhang and kill me quick!”

A-Qing raises several fingers in a vulgar gesture.

Xue Yang grins delightedly. “Takes her a while to come back to herself after her little naps, but seems like she's back to her old charming self," he says. “Isn’t that right, A-Qing?”

A second gesture, even more vulgar than the first. Lan Xichen winces, but Xue Yang thinks it's the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

“How much are you contr…” Lan Xichen tries thinking of a better way of wording it. “…how far is she under your influence?”

Xue Yang makes a face and begins to play with his hair. “Not much. I try to avoid using the Yin Iron as much as possible. Just to get her not to kill me in my sleep and stuff like that.”

“When you were laid out in the snow, she carried you inside when I couldn’t.”

“She did? She…well, I think she just doesn’t want me to die by anything other than her hand so she can be set at rest and all that.”

“But you could do it, with the Yin Iron. Set her at rest without her having to harm you.”

“Maybe, but she’s been with me here for years. She’s…” Xue Yang stops and glances down into his bowl of slimy eggplant, now cold. These past few weeks have revealed a myriad of surprising new emotions from Xue Yang, but this strain of bashful hesitancy is something entirely new.

“I wouldn’t want to—” Xue Yang stops. “I—”

Lan Xichen reaches out and rests a hand on Xue Yang’s gloved left hand, just as he’s certain Xiao Xingchen would have done to reassure the man he loved. His thumb touches the scarred skin showing through the palmless glove, sliding inside the glove, rubbing his bare skin. Caressing the disfigured part of Xue Yang, the part Xue Yang tries to hide from the daozhang.

He touches his blindfold with his other hand, quickly removing his hand at the slight bulge of his eyes beneath the material.

“You won’t be alone, Chengmei,” he says, very quietly. “I’ll still be here.”

Xue Yang stares down at his hand for a long time in silence. Lan Xichen wonders if he shouldn’t have touched him, if he should have used his other hand, the hand without that odd little wrist wound he still can’t account for, if he misread things entirely.

“I won’t leave,” he tells Xue Yang, putting it into as simple words as he can.

Xue Yang pulls his hand away. “You did before,” he says, almost blurts.

The accusation is like a dart to the throat before Lan Xichen remembers it was Xiao Xingchen who had abandoned Xue Yang, not him.

But he cannot not blame Xiao Xingchen for leaving Xue Yang, just as he can’t blame A-Yao for leaving him.

Xiao Xingchen must have had a good reason, as he had for everything he did.

Just as A-Yao had.

Lan Xichen can’t think of what to say to Xue Yang, who sits staring off through the window. Instead of speaking, Lan Xichen pulls a paper-wrapped candy from his robe. The old grocer had sent it “for his friend in black.”

He sets the candy down on the table, a little offering of friendship.

Xue Yang shakes his head and steps out past A-Qing, disappearing through the courtyard gate.

But the candy is gone when Lan Xichen wakes the next morning.

Happy as he is to have the bed to himself, Lan Xichen again dreams of dead bodies that night.

Dead bodies bobbing in the darkness, illuminated by Shuoyue’s solemn silver-blue glow. By its light he can see the white uniforms of the Lan, the silver of the Nie, the skewered body of Wu Shen, the mutilated corpse of Chang Ping.

Floating amidst the corpses is a figure in white, its face blurred save for a white blindfold that stands out stark and clear.

It says nothing. Just stares reproachfully at Lan Xichen through the blindfold while a disembodied old woman’s voice whispers around him, over and over: The good daozhang, returned! The good daozhang—the good daozhang—

Lan Xichen wakes in a sweat.

The bed is cold and empty.

Xue Yang sets a bowl of rice down on the table at Lan Xichen’s seat. Half-filled, as usual. Lan Xichen looks up at the sound.

“Where were you last night?”

Xue Yang grins. “Miss me? I was night hunting. Killed two fierce corpses. Had to check it all out before I let you anywhere near it.”

“Where did we get the rice?”

Xue Yang taps the basket on the table. It’s overflowing with rice, fish, and dried meat. Near the door he sees three more, each with rice, fruit, and vegetables. “Someone left food at our door with an anonymous note addressed to you. Guess word’s out that you’re back.”

“A note?”

“It blew away in the wind. Welcoming back the good daozhang in white.”

Lan Xichen recognizes the color and weave of the baskets as ones on display at the old grocer’s stall. “Do you think it was the old woman from yesterday?”

Xue Yang eats a few mouthfuls of rice before responding. “I doubt it. They’re moving away today.”

Lan Xichen frowns. “Moving?”

Xue Yang shrugs. “That’s what I hear. Some relative died and left the old woman and her grandson a house or something in another town. They won’t be back.”

“Really? She made it sound like she would be around for a while yet…Perhaps I can catch her before she leaves, thank her for her kindness—”

Xue Yang looks up in something approaching alarm. He really doesn’t want Xiao Xingchen wandering around the city, Lan Xichen thinks. He had no idea Xue Yang could be so protective, not even of the people he cared about.

As soon as I go night-hunting with Chengmei, he’ll be forced to acknowledge that I've recovered enough to go out on my own again, he thinks, and is about to ask about the weather when Xue Yang speaks, as if eager to change the subject on his own.

“I have a better idea than running after the old grocer,” says Xue Yang. “What you said yesterday about A-Qing—” and all thoughts of the old woman or the weather are driven from Lan Xichen’s mind.

Lan Xichen, trained his whole life in diplomacy and the social graces, finds himself completely unable to find a way to address A-Qing.

Xue Yang explains things to her instead. “I’m going to set you at rest, or whatever it's called. How does that sound, Little Blind? Ah, you’re speechless.” He laughs as if this is a joke, stopping when Lan Xichen frowns at him.

“Can she speak?” he asks.

Xue Yang makes a face. “Well…she doesn’t breath, so she doesn’t have a voice, and I hated to see her try to talk, so…”

“Let her speak, Chengmei.”

Sighing, Xue Yang does something, though Lan Xichen’s not sure what, and A-Qing gets to her feet and eyes Xue Yang coldly.

“Well, A-Qing?” Xue Yang says. His tone is a bit too cheerful. “It’s been fun, no?”

A-Qing bows in Lan Xichen’s direction. “Thank…you….” she croaks, and Xue Yang was right, it’s an awful sound, all throat and no breath. “Can’t…leave…you…with…him…”

Xue Yang laughs. A bit too loudly, as if to cover anything else A-Qing might want to add. The pathetic sound of his old friend must affect him terribly, Lan Xichen thinks.

“You talk to her,” Xue Yang says, and he goes to stand on the porch, close enough to intervene if necessary. Lan Xichen would never do anything to distress A-Qing, but he appreciates Xue Yang's concern for her.

"Please let us help you, A-Qing," Lan Xichen says. "I can't bear to see you living like this."

"Not...leave....you...." she rasps out.

“I’ll be fine, A-Qing."

“….happy?”

“Yes,” says Lan Xichen. He’s surprised at how readily he responds, though he hasn’t given it any thought. Happiness had not been something he’d been raised to need or want. Duty and moral rectitude were. Two things he’d abandoned.

And yet—

“I’m as happy as I deserve to be,” he says, trying to untangle his thoughts, but when he remains just as confused as before, he moves on. “But don’t think of me, A-Qing. You’ve been through enough. You deserve to rest. You deserve peace.”

She cocks her head stubbornly. “Kill…him…”

Lan Xichen feels a pang of pity for both the girl and Xue Yang. “I know you feel some kind of…animosity towards him, but don’t you see that’s only keeping you trapped here? I’ve forgiven him for what he’s done. If you can’t let go of it and set yourself at rest, then allow him to repay you for what he's done by freeing you.”

A-Qing glances towards the silent Xue Yang. The makeshift Yin Iron is in his hand, and he’s staring just past her without so much as a trace of a smile on his face.

“…come….back…for…you…one…day…” she tells Xue Yang in a croaking rasp that’s truly awful to hear. Her clouded eyes glow like white-hot coals, and Xue Yang looks away.

Lan Xichen closes the door and goes to sit on the bed.

Xue Yang enters almost an hour later.

“It’s done,” he says shortly.

A bit shakily, Lan Xichen goes out into the courtyard. It's empty.

Xue Yang follows him out. “She’s over there,” he says. He jerks a finger at the large lacquered black coffin underneath the awning. Beside it is a smaller one in blue and gray.

Lan Xichen bows at the blue and gray coffin.

“The high tower is a hundred feet tall,

From here one's hand could pluck the stars.

I do not dare to speak in a loud voice,

I fear to disturb the people in heaven.

“Rest well, A-Qing.”

Xue Yang gives him the smallest of smiles. “If you think she got into heaven, I suppose there’s hope for any of us.”

Feeling slightly dizzy, Lan Xichen lays a hand on the black coffin to steady himself, and all expression drains from Xue Yang’s face.

Lan Xichen removes his hand.

He dreams that night of the lacquered black coffin.

He is both inside it and outside it, watching his hand creep over the coffin’s rim, watching himself watch himself as he rises, standing upright in the coffin.

His flowing white robes are stained with blood, the coffin filled with it. As he watches the coffin grows into an immense lake rimmed with lacquered black wood and bare white trees with clawed branches. Boiling blood laps at his waist as the coffin’s bottom sinks lower and lower, finally giving away altogether and plunging him into the crimson lake.

White and silver-clad arms reach up out of the roiling red surface to drag him down, covering his mouth so he can’t so much as scream as they rip him to shreds.

A-Yao is there too, grasping at his wrist, puncturing it, leaving a small red mark—

He wakes with a smothered gasp.

“What is it?” Xue Yang is sitting at the table, sifting through a stack of poems. He crawls back into bed with a handful of poems, pressing his forehead to Lan Xichen’s. “Another bad dream?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine—”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine—”

Smoothing his hair, Xue Yang kisses his forehead, so gently that Lan Xichen almost cries.

He doesn’t deserve this tenderness.

Lan Xichen doesn’t, rather. But Xiao Xingchen—

Xiao Xingchen deserves everything.

Lan Xichen raises his hand, touching the bandages on his wrist.

He remembers now. A-Yao, seconds before he disappeared for the last time. Gripping his wrist, leaving a soul mark:

“Goodbye, Xichen. Find me—”

And then he had vanished in a handful of golden sparks, dissipating into the gloom of the temple.

Lan Xichen shuts his eyes against the memory.

“I was going through your old poems,” says Xue Yang quietly. “Do you remember this one? Your only good one.” He kisses Lan Xichen again, so he knows he’s only joking, and reads aloud:

“I tip my cup to the bright moon

The moon, its shadow, and I make three

Fleeting friends we three, the moon, its shadow and I

Still, let us make merry ’til the end of Spring

The moon swaying as I sing...”

“The black coffin,” Lan Xichen whispers into Xue Yang’s throat—Chengmei’s throat. His shoulder is pressed against Chengmei’s chest, and he can feel Chengmei’s heart start to pound at his words. “I know what’s inside it.”

Chengmei doesn’t bother asking him how he knows the coffin is black. “And?” he says, a new sharpness entering his voice. He’d snaked one arm around Lan Xichen while kissing his forehead, and now his fingers dig into the thin material of Lan Xichen’s inner robe.

Lan Xichen raises himself up onto one elbow, looks down at Chengmei. Chengmei stares up at him, face deathly pale.

“I think it’s time,” he says.

Xue Yang swallows. His breath seems stuck in his throat. “Time?”

Lan Xichen struggles to remember. Where had he learned what he’s about to say? At the Coffin House? At Guanyin Temple? The past month is a hazy blur of corpses and coffins and fever and rain. “I remember, when we wer at the temple…”

“Remember?”

Lan Xichen winces at his own clumsiness. “Not…not remember. Heard. As I…” He stops.

There’s an odd look on Chengmei’s face. “Not remember,” he repeats. “Heard, as you were coming back.”

“Yes. Exactly. I heard. It wasn’t at the temple, it was while you were sick here in the Coffin House. You said that you wanted to…to…” He sits up all the way and glances out the window at the large black coffin, standing out darkly against the gray of the courtyard. He’s finding it difficult to put his thoughts into words. “That I was not meant to stay like this. That the body in the coffin was meant to…”

He makes as if to get out of bed, and Chengmei grips his elbow, guiding him back beside him.

“Are you sure?” he asks Lan Xichen. He’s gazing at Lan Xichen as if he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, something Lan Xichen knows is not the case. After all, he does not look like Xiao Xingchen…

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Chengmei continues, his voice barely audible. “I thought you might…” He trails off. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll do it in the morning. One final use of the Yin Iron.”

Chengmei nods, swallowing hard, and turns so his back is to Lan Xichen, drawing Lan Xichen’s arm around him and covering his hand with both his own.

His glove is off.

Lan Xichen melts into the other man’s warmth. Outside it has begun to rain, a heavy patter as the large cold drops fall on the trees, fill the courtyard, speckle the window. But the roof is repaired, the Coffin House snug, Chengmei warm beneath the covers beside him.

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow, the mark on his wrist will be gone.

Tomorrow, everything will be as it should be.

A part of him knows it’s only a matter of time before the Lan find them. Only a matter of time before this interlude is over and the Coffin House collapses around them.

But for now...

Chengmei squeezes his hand.

Moonlight pours over the windowsill, casting long shadows on Lan Xichen’s face and filling the Coffin House with a soft silver glow.

He drifts into a dreamless sleep.

* * * *

Liked it? Spare a reblog? A kudos? A comment? It means a lot! : ) Without reblogs, nobody actually sees it.

#mdzsnet #xuexiao #lan xichen #xue yang #the untamed #a-qing #mdzs #xuelan #fractured ice au #1000 miles in its light

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karebear09 · 4 years ago

Text

Warm Cups and Smiles (ZukoxReader fic)

Pairing: Zuko/Reader.

Prompt: modern tea shop alternate universe! After opening a successful tea shop, Zuko meets a new customer for the first time.

Word count: 1362 words.

Author notes: Hey guys! Karen here, this is my first drabble/fic I post so I tried to have some fun with it! It is also my first time writing with they/them pronouns and so feel free to send me any advice or requests if you like this! It is short but I can definitely make more parts for this. Hope you like!

The sweet scent of lavender and vanilla lingered in the air, the warmth of the place spreading through its guests the way a contagious song does. Bright smiles on blushed faces made the tea shop look like it belonged on a magazine, the bamboo seats and decor giving it a friendlier look. How had the Jasmine Dragon become the most popular place in a matter of months? No one really knew, but it surely had something to do with the whole feel around the place.

Strangely enough, the place felt like a home. It was a place where the lost could feel found, a couple bucks worth a warm cup and words of wisdom from an old man. It was the resting place for the weary, an upper level holding bookshelves full of stories and ever-so-loved sofas that were not so firm after many years. The smell of leather mixed oddly well with that of Jasmine, a soft lullaby swaying the people within in an unknown rhythm. It was the hideout of so many broken souls and wandering children in search of inspiration, that was what made the Jasmine Dragon such a wonderful place.

A cheerful cry from the welcoming bell made the boy behind the counter look up, pen between his fingers stop the light tapping against the desk. The place had been slow for the past days, people returning to their daily routine as vacations ended. The usual college students that would hurriedly order a drink and slip upstairs to finish tasks were gone, only coming later through the day for a warm drink after a long day. People who meant business no longer visited with their kids, they simply dashed through the doors with a relieved expression and a small breakfast before going to work. The old man no longer prepared the small room from the moment they arrived at the shop at 6am, children’s books hidden in a cupboard until the sun began to fall. Still, they persisted, serving those casual visitors with a warm smile and exact change.

Zuko couldn’t help but feel intrigued as he watched intently how a stranger seemed to come alive as they passed the doors. The aroma inside the shop was suddenly different, sweeter yet refreshing at the same time, why did it feel so familiar and so new all at once? A small smile started to form as he noticed the way their eyes lit up at the interior of the place, a bright spark seemingly lighting up in that stare. Maybe this could be the first time he admitted to be proud of the shop. Swallowing hard, the raven haired boy fixed his hair and wiped his hands on the jeans he was wearing, his mind going through the so repeated words that anyone else would automatically say by now.

“Hey, welcome to Zuko, I am the Jasmine Dragon.” The words came out with a cordial smile and a waving hand, it only took a soft giggle to realize what he had actually said. Embarrassment painted across his face, he only let out a defeated sigh after the warm and callous touch of his uncle settled on his shoulder. Of course, he’d messed up and now the old man would take charge, deep down he wished he could rewind time. He hid a frustrated sigh and plopped down on the seat behind him, watching as his uncle took control of the situation effortlessly. How could he do that? When would it become easier?

Golden eyes subtly darted to their newest visitor, scanning every detail he could appreciate. Had the sun always fallen so beautifully on someone? The way it lighted their figure up reminded him of those paintings of old gods and spirits, a bright smile and kind face tying the picture together. The worn out bag they carried on their side mentally reminded him of the students that often came by, crisp papers poking out from the opening on the top. How many times had those papers teased with falling out? What could they be studying? Would they skip the music and table games they had downstairs to isolate themselves up between the bookshelves? Or would they stay down to watch the art of preparing tea and desserts as so many preferred to do? His questions came to a halt as they met gazes, and in that moment he could swear that anything that happened before or after didn’t matter.

A soft blush spread through his cheeks as a light tap from Iroh brought him back to reality, a warning smile on the old man’s face that could only mean ‘get back to business’. His uncle was a kind man with a golden heart, but even a business owner had to have a harsh hand now and then. After receiving the order, Zuko mentally made a note of it, shaking his head subtly as he slipped past the man to start working on it. Usually his uncle would make the drinks, a special touch he called it, but now he seemed too entertained with their new guest. Hushed laughs and whispers were all he could hear as his back faced the counter, hands moving fast to prepare the sweet drink. Not everyone ordered an Earl Grey latte, yet the simplicity of the drink was what caught his attention the most. So many times had he messed up on the add-ons and fancy shit so many customers desires, but this was a good change of pace, something he could have fun with, he had to thank them for that.

“Oh you’re studying literature? That’s wonderful! Upstairs you’ll find some of the best books we could find around time, just treat them with care, they’re as old as these bones.” The hearty chuckle from his uncle as he patted his belly made Zuko smile brightly to himself, finally taking note of what he said. So the upper floor it’d probably be, how curious. He could’ve sworn they’d stay down to get to know the place better, but everyone’s different after all. Pressing his lips, he calmed his trembling hand as he leaned over the warm cup, the foam on top being manipulated with care, a proud hum leaving his lips as he admired his work of art. Was it close to what he had mentally pictured? Not really, but the small lotus flower winked at him as if they held a secret between them. “-Oh he’s a good boy, love him as if he was my son. Just don’t let him fool you, he might write his number on the back of the receipt if no one is looking. Ask him directly, otherwise he’ll make it seem like it was an accident.”

Was...was his uncle flirting for him? As Zuko turned his body with the big cup in hand, a brow raised at the sight of his uncle sat facing him with their new customer watching entertained. Well, that was new certainly. Rolling his eyes, Zuko shook the comment off and approached the counter, offering the warm cup with a polite smile. “Seems like you guys are having fun. Don’t worry about how much it’ll be, it’s on the house.” His voice came out an octave lower, cringing mentally at how hard he was trying. Was it noticeable? Probably, but it was worth a try. The surprised face on their guest brought out a chuckle from Iroh, who just waved his hand dismissively before disappearing into the back, a soft tune lingering from his lips.

“Are you going upstairs? The sofas are really comfortable if you want to read while you drink your tea. I’ll show you, I’ll help you with your bag if you want.” After a moment of comfortable silence, the soft nod marked the start of what could be his newest adventure, walking out from behind the counter to help a newfound friend. Soft giggles and nervous jokes were all he remembered from the moment before heading back down, a permanent smile on his lips as he continued for the rest of the day.

Oh how sweet could life be when you had a cup of tea.

#iroh & zuko #modern au #zuko fanfic #avatar zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #fanfic #avatar: tla #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #i love iroh so much #coffee shop #coffee shop au

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