#same reason why I roll my eyes at people thinking throwing insults and vagues at someone is going to maturely communicate their feelings

[wildpeachfarm]

a literal therapist on tiktok said this: if someone is upset with you and you don’t know why, it’s not your responsibility to bring it up, it’s theirs.

yes exactly. Because the person who made you upset can't read your mind and definitely can't understand the scope of the situation unless you communicate your feelings maturely and entirely.

No one is going to know why they made someone upset if all the person does is cry and whine that someone isn't doing what they want. They need to actually TALK to the person like an adult 😭😭😭

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

���No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[shakey-hands]

please please can we get fukuzawa awkwardly having to tell ranpo he’s dating reader and the two of them start fighting and reader is subjected to it??? 😍😍

haha yeah. first ask that imma answer, let me know if you guys want more. my asks are open for any (except mineta gross) mha, ouran, or bungo characters :)

{this one is gonna be done with she/her pronouns but if you ask for gender neutral or he/him or any other pronouns, i can do it}

---

The clock struck two when Y/N looked at her phone, leg bouncing up and down in a way that always annoyed the people around her. Great. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time and her boyfriend still had not shown up with what she understood was his adopted son.

It had been a good plan. Meet on neutral territory, gas up (what Y/N assumed was) a teenage boy with a sweets addiction, and then break the news. Y/N was not sure why they needed to go through such lengthy troubles to inform her boyfriend’s son that they were dating. He was at least old enough to understand what dating was. And from what she had heard from Kunikida, Fukuzawa’s son had a very prominent dating life of his own. But Y/N trusted her boyfriend, no matter how many times he looked off into the distance with quiet wisdom that felt vague.

Y/N sipped her tea, realizing that caffeine would only worsen her anxiety. It didn’t matter how many times Fukuzawa and Kunikida tried to tell her that the meeting wouldn’t be a big deal and that the son would love her, she wasn’t so sure. He was working at the Armed Detective Agency and was good at what he did. At least those were Kunikida’s words as Y/N and him were quietly reading in the same room as they did on Saturday nights. While Y/N appreciated Kunikida for his straight forward/driven personality, he did not fare well in comforting her.

Which brought her to her boyfriend. His solid, piercing eyes would always soften as she talked about her day over their dinner dates and he would brush the back of his hand on her cheek in the moments they were alone with one another. While Y/N rarely noticed because she herself was too infatuated with him, Fukuzawa cared deeply for her after seven months of dating. Their last hurdle was introducing Y/N to Ranpo. Fukuzawa was not at all worried since Y/N had a knack for making sweets and made people feel as if they were special when she smiled at them. There was never a shortage of praise around her.

Y/N checked her phone again, hoping that an apology text would come through and she would not be left in the dark. That however was proving difficult. Fukuzawa was driving with Ranpo eating cotton candy in the passenger seat. He had to be bribed away from the sweets table Dazai had set up for some ungodly known reason to mess with Atsushi. It was embarrassing how long it took for Kunikida to pry Ranpo’s little grubby hands away from the snacks and then another amount of time for Fukuzawa to get Ranpo to put on his seatbelt.

It made Fukuzawa nervous that he was so late. He knew Y/N would be understanding, it was part of the reason he enjoyed her company so much. Knowing her, she would probably be bouncing her knee and staring down at the table, overthinking things. He, of course, was right.

As Fukuzawa was pulling into the parking lot, he spotted his girlfriend’s car. It was pristine, as always, and had a small cat paw sticker on the back left bumper. He smiled inwardly, realizing that he had been waiting for this. There was a future with Y/N and Fukuzawa couldn’t wait.

Ranpo still had yet to get out of the car, his glasses dangling from his shirt pocket and a light dusting of sugar crystals on his lips. He was pouting, of course. Kunikida did not pack enough snacks for the car ride, meaning Ranpo did not have the mental energy to get out of the car and go into whatever flop coffee shop the president insisted they go into. People were so stupid and Ranpo already just finished a case that was so obvious. The local police really needed to be more useful.

“Get out of the car,” Fukuzawa said, getting more and more agitated.

“No,” Ranpo said.

“Let’s go. I promise there will be sweets inside the shop.”

“So? There were sweets at the agency.”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes, knowing Ranpo would sit in the car out of stubbornness. “Ranpo-”

“Yukichi?” A soft voice called out from the entrance of the cafe.

Fukuzawa turned to see Y/N standing right outside. She had a to-go cup of something hot in her hands, jacket sleeves pulled over her hands to stop the warmth from burning her skin. Even though it was overcast and windy, Y/N still seemed to have a certain glow about her that always took Fukuzawa’s breath away. She waved timidly, not knowing why he was awkwardly standing behind his parked car with a weird defensive stance. He nodded over to her, giving her a genuine smile before turning his head back to the car and glaring.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N began to approach her boyfriend. The only other time she had seen her boyfriend have this stance was when she had bumped into some eyebrowless pale emo kid in an accident at the mall. Fukuzawa seemed to pick the weird fights, but she just smiled through it. His eyes held a certain annoyance the Y/N had not seen before. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step off the curb. Fukuzawa held out his hand, motioning her to not get closer. Y/N paused, unsure about his demeanor.

“Ranpo, don’t make me ask again.” Fukuzawa’s voice held a bass to it that Y/N had never heard before. She could only assume it was his dad voice that he has never had to use with her.

The window rolled down on the old car for just a crack. “I don’t remember a question being asked.”

The voice was whiny and slightly muffled, as if the speaker had sweets in his mouth. Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and put his hand on the glass. Y/N was slightly shocked by her boyfriend, but decided to let him do his thing. She was not a parent and the closest time she had ever been was when she had a babysitting gig decades ago when she was a teen. While she was interested in a family, she had neither the time nor mental capacity to follow through. So she stepped back onto the curb and took a sip of her tea, relishing in the warmth it provided.

“Ranpo, if you don’t get out of the damned car, there will be no sweets at the agency for a year.”

A clear threat had been made.

The door slammed into the car next to it, causing a dent that Fukuzawa watched form. Out from the passenger seat, a short man with a slight pout crawled out of the car. Definitely not the young teenager Y/N had been expecting. He was only slightly taller than Y/N and wore a cape. In fact, he looked like a full grown adult, maybe only ten years younger than Y/N. Her face said it all, though neither men were looking at her. They just stared one another down before Fukuzawa remembered his loving girlfriend stood awkwardly behind him. He motioned for her to come over.

Ranpo did not look impressed as he looked her up and down. Y/N looked too ordinary to know Fukuzawa in her jeans and plain jacket combo. Her shoes were dirty from all the yard work she had done throughout the years. As she got closer, Ranpo watched closely as Fukuzawa gently touched the small of her back before wrapping his arm around her waist. While Ranpo had never seen the President act like this, he did not care.

“Ranpo, I would like you to meet-”

Ranpo yawned loudly. “She’s way too old for me. Almost to hag status.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She began to stumble over her words, not knowing how to respond. Fukuzawa’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that Ranpo would even think he was trying to set them up. Ranpo made a disgusted face.

“No offense lady, but you don’t even look fun. Like all you do is sit in the dark and contemplate the excitement of frostingless yellow cake.”

How do you respond to that?

Y/N looked down, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She was suddenly thankful for the sudden gust of wind that burned her cheeks, a sign that snow was rolling in. Who insults like that? The little sniffle that Y/N let out set Fukuzawa back into the present instead of the daydream he had slipped into where Ranpo got his ass beat.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Fukuzawa said sternly. “And she’s not here for you.”

“Obviously. She could never handle the Greatest Detective.”

“No!” Fukuzawa said, tightening his grip on her waist. “I wanted you two to meet because we’ve been dating for a while and I thought it was finally time for you two to meet.”

Ranpo suddenly scoffed dramatically. Once. Twice. Three times. “And here I thought we agreed never to keep secrets! And all this time you’ve been giving your praise to someone else!”

Fukuzawa looked at the small man incredulously. “I’m allowed to date, Ranpo.”

“Not really!” Ranpo exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. Those who were passing by continuously glanced, wondering why they were arguing so loudly in a public space. “How gross is that! You’re like centuries old!”

“Look, I just thought you’d want to be in the know. If I had known you’d throw a tantrum, I would have just waited until after we were married.”

In that moment, Ranpo and Y/N spoke simultaneously:

“Tantrum?!”

“Married!?”

“Oh I’ll show you a tantrum!”

Ranpo pushed the old car to make it move back and forth in its parked place before beginning to punch the glass. There was no real power behind his throws, so there were soft thumps being emitted. Next he started to kick the tires, also without power behind his movements. He truly had transformed into a toddler, making the people walking by walk a little faster. He came off as some random crazy person on the street rather than an acclaimed detective.

Fukuzawa didn’t know where to look until a warm soft hand held his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Y/N’s. She smiled softly, ignoring Ranpo as he began to get physical. Her smile caused a chain reaction in Fukuzawa’s heart, making him resist the urge to get down on one knee at that very instance. He did have the ring adding weight to his pocket. She kissed his forehead, making him awkwardly bend down as she chuckled against his skin.

“You want to marry me?”

Fukuzawa blushed slightly. “In due time, of course.”

She chuckled again and nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m not calling her mom!”

[kimistorm]

My Heart Gone Missing [Chapter 5]

Fandom: Studio Ghibli (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Pairing: Friendship! Howl x GN! Reader

Warnings: Marius is unsupportive and angsty as usual~

Masterlist

“Y/N! You’re insane, you know that?” Marius asked as you put a baseball cap on and turned the dial to the town.

“Your point?” you asked as you turned to the ceramic basin.

“Why would a wizard give you one of his spells?”

“Well, you never know until you try, right?” you asked happily as you opened the door. “Any last words before I leave?”

“You’re-”

“Nope, bye Marius!” you called before you darted out the door.

“Y/N! Stop cutting me off!” Marius yelled moments before the door slammed shut behind you.

You began the walk through town towards the shop that you saw the other day. “Okay, just be polite, ask if they have the spell, if not, run.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked through the crowds of people. You looked down at your feet to avoid eye contact with other people, and when you slowed down, you looked up to see the shop of ‘The Great Wizard Jenkins’. “Okay, let’s do this.” You took a deep breath and then knocked on the door. Moments later the door opened to the same stunted man, er kid, from the other day.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“You don’t happen to have a spell, do you?” you asked sweetly. After thinking about your sentence you sighed at your vagueness.

“You were that person who ran away the other day, right?” the kid asked gruffly.

“No! You must be confused with someone else.” You said quickly as your hand moved to your (h/c) locks of hair. You gave a small scratch before your hand flew back down at your side. “You don’t happen to have a spell that’ll, uh, I don’t know, hypothetically be able to turn you into, well, an animal, preferably a bird, you know, like, uh, hypothetically speaking of course.” You said quietly while not looking at the kid.

“Are you a witch/wizard?” the kid asked.

“What? No! What makes you think that?” you asked in a panicked fashion. Your hair was slowly turning into a (different hair color) starting from when you scratched it. Magic.

“Only a witch/wizard would want to look for a spell like that.” The kid answered.

“Well, you know, it’s all hypothetical and such. I don’t want it for myself, I’m just looking for a gift, for, uh, for a friend. Yeah! Because I totally have friends, why wouldn’t I have friends?” you silently cursed at yourself for your awkwardness and the conversation that you were having.

“No. We don’t give out spells like that. It’s too dangerous. Especially for that friend of yours, who doesn’t know what they’re doing, unless they are a witch or wizard.” The kid said smoothly.

Darn, he saw right through it, “okay, yeah, thank you. I’m sorry for wasting your time, again. I mean! Not again, we definitely haven’t met before. Okay, I’ll leave. Sorry for bothering you!” you yelled the last part out as you ran away from the shop. Again.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are!” the kid yelled after you.

“Good to know old man!” you yelled in return.

“Children.” You heard the kid grumble behind you.

“I wouldn’t say that!” you yelled at him, “you’re not older than me!” you laughed when you saw the stunned look on the kids face before sprinting away. You may like to get a rise out of people, but you don’t like the consequences, and there was no way you were going to test out this kids’ consequences.

You quickly weaved your way through the crowd of pedestrians as you ran back towards the little building that housed the portal to your house. As you ran past people you decided that you were going to break in.

Now, to any normal person, breaking into a wizard’s house was insane, but, that was exactly what you excelled at. At least, according to Marius.

You successfully made it to your door without being pursued by an angry wizard, or an angry pedestrian. You casually leaned against the unassuming door and slipped in. “Marius!” you called out.

“Oh, you’re back already. Did it work?” Marius asked in a bored fashion from his bowl.

“Does it look like it worked?” you asked as you threw your baseball cap onto a desk that was steadily getting more cluttered with every passing day.

Marius looked up at you from his bowl in the corner, “I’d say you participated in a marathon because for some reason you thought that running in a marathon was a better idea than asking for a spell.”

“Huh, not too far off.” You mused, “anyways. I didn’t get the spell.”

“No surprise there.” Marius scoffed.

“But, I did get this wonderful idea.” You continued.

“A wonderful idea?” Marius looked at you disbelievingly, “why do I get the nagging suspicion that your ‘wonderful idea’ is actually a horrible idea that’ll probably get everyone killed.”

“It’s not going to get everyone killed.” You retorted, “I’m ashamed that you think that of me! I’m just going to break into the house and get the spell for myself.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in centuries.” Marius said immediately, “and I was best friends with a minnow for like half of that time.”

You ignored what Marius had said and set to work on creating a foolproof plan. You got out some paper and wrote out a rough outline of what you were going to do. It started with an invisibility spell, you’d follow another person into the shop and just camp out by the door until they all left. Once everyone was gone, you’d search for the spell.

You smiled to yourself, this plan could either fail or be amazing. Marius leaned towards the crash and burn end of the spectrum, but you liked the idea of this plan. It seemed foolproof.

“Y/N, are you seriously writing up a plan?” Marius asked from his corner. You simply ignored him, you didn’t need any of his negativity. “Just don’t crash and burn alright.” Marius sighed, “there’s no way I’ll be able to roll my way to the lake if this house falls apart.”

“Glad to know you care about me.” You said as you leafed through your books on spells.

Marius scoffed, “no. I don’t care about you, I just care about my well being.”

“Same thing.” You waved as you pulled out a large book from the shelf. You shoved some papers off of the table and dropped the heavy book onto the table. It was leather bound and the cover was worn and faded from time. If you looked hard enough, you could barely make out an elaborate insignia and some words in an ancient language.

“At the rate you're going you’re going to end up living in a pigsty!” Marius insulted.

You ignored him and flipped through the gold edged pages. The script was small and swirly, and if the yellowing pages had any indication, it was a rather old book.

“Y/N! Stop ignoring me! You’re being such a bore.” Marius whined.

“You try decoding the words of several centuries old writing.” You snapped back as you leaned down to try and read what the script said.

“Why on earth do you have a centuries old book?” Marius demanded.

“What? You think I’m the first witch/wizard in the family?”

“Why are you living on your own then!” Marius yelled in a fury.

You shrugged, “adventure. Independence. Human things.”

There was the sound of indignant splashing and Marius fell silent.

“You didn’t drown yourself over there, did you?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, except for the flipping of pages.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Marius laughed dryly. “What are you even looking for?”

“Invisibility spell.” You replied.

“Great, you’re going to be invisible. Let me guess, you’re going to sneak into Jenkin’s store and steal the spell.” You fell silent and didn’t answer Marius’ sarcastic comment. “Oh my gosh.” Marius cackled in disbelief, “you actually are! Wow, I think we know who won the award for dumbest plan.”

“Be quiet.” You grumbled to him.

“Honestly. I think you have a deathwish.” Marius continued to talk as if he hadn’t heard your quiet threat.

“Nobody asked for your opinion.” You snapped back.

“Ooh, looks like I hit a soft spot.” Marius cackled gleefully, “so, tell me, was it because I figured out what you were going to do?”

“Don’t make me throw this rock at you.” You turned to his corner and held up a rock that you had picked up for exactly this reason.

“You’d miss.” Marius said in reply, but you did hear some apprehension in his voice.

“Shall we test it and see?” you threatened.

“No! I’m good. You can keep your rock. I’ll be quiet!” Marius said hastily.

“You better be quiet.” You muttered darkly and turned back to your book.

You didn’t know how long you spent poring over the small print of the book, but when your back and neck started to scream from pain you decided to stand back up to stretch out your back. You stood up to your full height and raised your arms above you in a long stretch. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and get some knots out of it.

“Did you find it?” Marius’ sullen voice echoed in his bowl.

“No.” You sighed and pulled up a chair next to the book so you could continue flipping through the book. You were only halfway through the book, so you still had some hopes, but it was quickly dwindling.

“Ugh!” you shouted and let your face drop onto the book. You peeled your face away from it a moment later due to the dust that was causing you to sneeze. “This is impossible!” you shouted and stood up from the chair and stormed away.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Marius eagerly shouted, “you should quit! Leave all the crazy wizard stuff to Howl and the Witch of the Waste!”

“Shut up Marius!” you yelled back and stormed out of the door.

Taglist: @pogpixelz

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

 ---

 “This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?” 

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

 ---

 “So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

 ---

 “See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 25

first time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Drugs and alcohol. Vague reference to Britishguy Funnyname being Smaug. Gen-Z humor. Reader throwing it back. You can pry my headcanon of Sam being a good dancer from my cold, dead hands.

I literally have a playlist titled "party in Stark tower but a Gen-Z is the DJ". It's good for house parties & dancing. Throw it back my ladies theybies and gentlemen ✌🏻😔

As soon as we heard the muted cheering coming from the spot we'd last seen our friends, my and Loki's head minutely turned in that direction, and only centuries of practice on his end prevented us from colliding with another couple dancing nearby.

Stephen Strange was a... Vision. He was something else, for sure, tight black suit with a sophisticated scale pattern shining silver in the candlelight; the same pattern decorating parts of his face and head, convoluting in a set of small, raised grey-white horns. And his eyes - his eyes glowed like the molten embers of an unholy fire, yellow and gold. He looked terrifying and dangerous and delicious.

And he was looking at us, a cocky smirk on his pale lips and a glass of scotch idly held in a black, gloved hand.

Loki cleared his throat.

I averted my gaze, briefly locking my eyes with Loki's - red and wide. So I wasn't the only one that felt an indescribable sort of animalistic magnetism when looking at the Sorcerer Supreme. "Magic?" I asked, to take my mind off the awkwardness.

"Indeed," Loki replied curtly, stepping slightly closer to me. "Simplistic, but powerful magic. It seems like you had struck a sensitive spot within the Sorcerer," With a great deal of teasing, Loki grinned his trademark 'I-am-trouble' grin.

I chewed on my lip in thought. Low confidence much, Stephen? "We can both agree he is hot as fuck, a gorgeous piece of man, and continue with our party," I spoke after a brief moment, raising an eyebrow towards Loki, hoping to cut the shit at its roots. The trickster couldn't pretend he was unaffected, I had seen his brain stutter.

"Let's shall," He smiled, for real this time, and led us back to our friends. "Strange," Loki's voice was, perhaps, a tad more breathy than usual. I wouldn't blame him for shooting his shot if Stephen actually swung that way.

"Doctor Wizard," Game face: ON, I made my biggest, most innocent eyes and fluttered my wings for the dramatic effect as I made my way back to Bruce. Tony was gone and so was his glass of whiskey - I assumed he had went to schmooze. Bruce patted his lap and I obediently sat down, placing myself nearly face-to-face with the sorcerer.

"Good evening," It took my brain a moment to register that the deep, guttural voice was coming indeed from Stephen himself. "Forgive my tardiness, I was held up at the Sanctum." He stared right at me, flashing those unbelievable eyes in what seemed like amusement. I couldn't tell.

"Smaug," My brain blurted out for some reason. I mean, the eyes, the scales, the voice...

"Touchè," He nodded, saluting me with his glass and taking a hefty swig. "I can't say I'm very trendy," The way he said the word was obviously meant to insult current fashions, "But for an old man like me, I clean up nicely." The little shit-eating grin just about killed me on the spot. Bruce chuckled behind me.

"I won't disagree," I twirled the straw of a drink Bruce had passed me, faking coyness and trying to gather my thoughts in some resemblance of an order. "The eyes are impressive."

"Thank you," Stephen chuckled. "That, and the voice, took some time and patience."

So, he noticed. I was fucked. So, so fucked. I needed more alcohol. "Where's Wanda?" I asked nobody in particular.

"She's dancing with Natasha," Bruce answered, watching me and Stephen with a knowing smirk. The green in his eyes didn't intensify and I took the brief moment to softly touch my lips to his, so quickly it might have been mistaken for a trick of the eye by any peeping stranger. Stephen's close vicinity did something to me. "Wanna go dance with the girls, Princess?" Bruce leaned away slightly, the brown of his irises flashing a glowing green. Oh, he was affected, too.

Stephen Strange, you sly, sly bastard.

"Yes, daddy," I whispered into his ear - just to watch him shudder all over and the hand on my bare thigh briefly turn green, grabbing my flesh possessively... As well as hear Stephen's sharp inhale, the brightening of his eyes. I sashayed off, satisfied with my small act of revenge.

I approached Natasha and Wanda carefully, taking care not to startle them.

"Finally," The witch sighed, moving slowly and precisely to the music with Natasha by her side. "I thought I would find you and Loki in the supply closet." She sounded... Slightly jealous, to be honest.

"Nah, we were thirsting over Strange," I rebuffed the implications firmly.

Natasha whistled. "I can see why."

"I know, right? Almost got Brucie to drag me out of here caveman style with that voodoo shit," I laughed soundly, looking around for the DJ booth. The music was... Nice, but definitely not for solo or group dancing. "You wanna go with me or stay here? I'll bribe the DJ into playing something more... Dancy," I said, reaching into my bra to pull out a fat roll of cash.

"Oh, I want to see that," Natasha proclaimed, pulling me towards our destination by the hand. Wanda followed obediently and curiously. In ten minutes I spent making puppy eyes, Natasha was giving DJ her best murder face and Wanda blankly stared at the array of electronics, I became $300 poorer but the tunes playing overhead slowly turned away from dark rock and into club bass territory.

When a particular song began playing, I pulled out my two girls behind me without a twitch, snagging and downing two shots from a tray standing on the bar. "Tuesday on mind, think about you all the time..." I sang along, body falling into the familiar rhythm of bopping to house music. Natasha joined quickly whereas Wanda was a little confused... But still, she had the spirit.

Few more songs and few more shots in, I was feeling myself. Wanda was tipsy, too, as she had followed in my footsteps upon Natasha's amused urging. Slowly but surely, we danced and drank our way back to our table.

Tony and Stephen were engaged in a staring contest - which was quite funny to me in my state. Tony didn't flinch, didn't blink, just traced his thumb along his jawline just like every time he was deep in thought.

"Loki!" Wanda happily exclaimed, disrupting the tense silence with a fit of drunken giggling. "She bribed the DJ, that was so cool!" The witch snorted as me and Natasha let out slightly embarrassed laughs. Technically, Wanda was still underage and - unsurprisingly - a total lightweight.

"Let's get some fresh air, darling," Loki approached the situation courteously, holding the girl steady and gently steering her towards the patio.

I took the empty chair immediately, plopping with little grace, throwing a leg over the other and leaning back in my chair, exposing the sparkling skin of my legs.

"You're responsible for this noise?" Stephen gestured to the people dancing, now much more closely and loosely, all over the room.

"Baby girl, if you keep dancing like that, I won't mind the terrible noise," Tony winked at me salaciously, evidently having seen me throwing it back like a pro despite my heels and fancy dress. "Where'd you learn that?"

"I just had lots of practice... " I trailed off insinuatingly, eyeing each man for a moment longer than necessary. The darkness in their eyes answered all my questions, the alcohol on my blood making me much bolder in my leering towards them both. I wasn't hiding my eyes as they lazily ran over Stephen's and then Tony's form. The latter knew what it meant, usually his pants were undone in mere minutes after I looked at him like that.

Today, I was a Fae. I was supposed to be playful and I was going to play. My eyes averted before they reached Tony's, focusing instead on Natasha and being all but thrown around by an overly excited Thor. The spy took it like a champ, I doubt I could survive the space-lambada or whatever the fuck it was that the inebriated Asgardian was doing.

A somber silence hung over us, each person eyeing the others with secretive looks. Despite the situation having the full potential to be hot, it was starting to get a little bit unsettling. If I was honest with myself I had completely no idea how to party with old people. Bruce didn't seem to be the dancing kind, Strange looked way too unapproachable and Tony was well on his way to getting shitfaced. I hid behind my drink as I scouted the dance floor for Clint or Sam figuring that they probably wouldn't refuse me a dance or three.

Bingo. Sam caught my eyes quickly and made way to our table in response to the dejected look I gave him. "Sup, baby?" The Falcon-turned-Greek-demigod asked me as he promptly downed a glass of water. The sheen of sweat covering his face indicated he wasn't the one to sit around with a phat beat in the background. "Wanna bust some moves?'

"Sure do," I replied, taking hold of his outstretched hand. "Tony and Stephen are way too busy flirting to dance with me." I pouted, ignoring Tony's indignant shrieking and Sam's laughter. We found ourselves a cozy little spot between all the grinding, writhing sweaty bodies, just barely in direct eyesight of the pouting men we'd left at the table.

"Are you making moves on me now?" Sam laughed as our bodies slid close and moved to the rhythm in perfect sync. The man met all my expectations, he had all the prerequisites for being a good dancer and he did not disappoint.

"Nah, Bird, you've been friend zoned," I snarked, alcohol loosening my lips. "I already have my hands full with my geniuses, sorry man." I was twirled and spun, my hands promptly landing back on his chest. It wasn't that much different than dancing dirty during one of the house parties I used to frequent. Just a lot less pelvic thrusting...

Sam threw his head back, baring his pearly whites in mirth. "At least spare this man a good dance?" The bass dipped lower and I found myself turned around, facing Tony, Bruce and Stephen. Their smirks were dark and nearly identical as they watched me slot and sway my hips in rhythm with the man behind me. "I know you got some moves, baby, don't be shy," Sam teased me.

Who was I to deny such a polite request?Alcohol was fueling my bravery and all but evaporating my sense of shame. Aw, yiss. In short, I was throwing ass like crazy and Sam - Sam was catching it, expertly. My dress wasn't deterring me in the slightest bit, adding an extra flair to my movements. In a moment, my worries were forgotten and replaced by a rush of endorphins coming from the pure joy brought on by dancing.

We danced until my feet hurt. At some point Sam was swished away by a tall, beautiful woman and I traded places with some other girl, landing in the arms of a bulky blonde man dressed as Aquaman. In my drunken haze, Jason Momoa had nothing on him. I threw it back like there was no tomorrow, downing a drink that was given to me with little regard.

Tony's eyes met mine. He was watching me like a hawk, taking tantalising little sips of his whiskey and licking his lips every now and then, diverting his attention only to absentmindedly nod in Strange's direction or smile at a person who wanted a piece of his spotlight. I consumed all of Tony's free attention span. It made me feel powerful, invincible.

I danced a bit more before the booze got to me, making me feel a little too woozy for comfort. Eyes on the table, I stumbled my way to Tony, noisily plopping down in his lap.

His mouth was set in a firm line. "Having fun, Princess?"

"Yeah," I moaned, hugging him around the neck. My body was heating up rapidly, my heart raced. Wait a minute... "Shit," I came to a conclusion as quickly as Stephen's eyebrows rose when he took a look at my face.

"Are you high?" The sorcerer asked me with a deal of concern.

"Prolly," I spoke, sighing. Did I pop X at some point? My memory was hazy. "I'm good tho. Give me some water and I'll be good," I knew my drugs, okay? A little bit of extasy didn't hurt anybody now and then. I had stayed mostly clean ever since my and Tony's and Bruce's relationship started.

To my surprise, Tony chuckled. "I really have no place to judge, Princess, but a warning would have been nice. I hope you had the common sense to get that shit tested, at least." He spoke, slowly stroking my damp hair and allowing me to all but rub myself on him. He smelled so good.

"Tony, please," Stephen rolled his eyes, evidently preparing for a lecture.

I stopped him in his tracks. "Don't act like you're a saint, seventy percent of college students I know do Adderall and coke just to keep up with the curriculum. I call bullshit."

Tony snorted as Stephen rolled his eyes, looking away. Predictable. For all that Strange wanted to appear high and mighty, he wasn't shit. I'd googled him and asked around about him shortly after we'd first met. The sorcerer was no stranger to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. He had more than a few invitation-only parties behind his back. I couldn't wait to tear the self-satisfied, smug smirk off the bastard's face.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[hotchley]

i swear i lived

when it’s dark, when he’s scared, when jack won’t stop screaming because he wants his mom and hotch just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, when strauss yells at him for screwing up, he thinks of the team and it’s like the world stops moving so quickly.

they ground him.

they remind him of who he is.

aka: memories of hotch the show didn’t give to us

i have not proofread it and it is purely self-indulgent so yeah not all of it make complete sense but it's been a long week and i needed to do something... fun? so now we're here :) 

also, this is an amazing way to celebrate one hundred followers

i’m not completely happy with the ending but we’re going with it

trigger warnings: major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced child sexual abuse

read on ao3!

It’s dark, and he can’t quite remember where he is, but he knows they’re on a case, somewhere in Florida which means it’s definitely worse than usual. Everything else is slightly fuzzy. He’s in a bed, he knows that much, but there’s nobody else around. The thought makes him panic. Why is nobody else here?

It must be late. That’s the only explanation for the darkness. And the only reason why he’s in a bed. But that doesn’t help him work out where everyone else is. He’s pretty sure Garcia said they’d be sharing rooms because she was travelling with them this time.

His t-shirt is stuck to him. He must have been having a nightmare. If he thinks hard enough, he can vaguely remember being hit with something, but the rest of it is a blur. If it was bad enough to wake him up, he’s glad he doesn’t remember it.

But he still doesn’t know where the team are and he can feel his heart start to beat faster and his breathing start to quick but he can’t afford for that to happen right now so he needs to calm down but he can’t because he’s placing so much pressure on himself to do it because it’s important but-

The team.

Think of the team.

When it’s dark, when he’s scared, when Jack won’t stop screaming because he wants his mom and Hotch just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, when Strauss yells at him for screwing up, he thinks of the team and it’s like the world stops moving so quickly. They ground him. They remind him of who he is.

And it’s incredibly sentimental, but then, he’s a sentimental person. He likes being nostalgic. He convinced Haley to keep a pirate hat because it was a memory of how they met and fell in love, and it reminds of him of how he would make her laugh. Jack took it in for show and tell.

The teacher had to excuse themselves to wipe away their tears.

He’s getting side-tracked. Thinking of Haley will make him tremble. He needs to breathe. He needs to think of the team.

Inhale for three.

There’s a blazer at the back of his wardrobe. He doesn’t wear it anymore. He would if he could, but he can’t. He holds onto it though. Because shortly after Jack was born, he got sick, like babies do. And Hotch was called in for some last-minute meeting with Strauss and a couple of the other higher-ups. Jack had been sick on his blazer, but he was in such a daze when it happened that it was only when he was rushing to his office did he notice.

Well, Elle noticed. She immediately took it off him and told him to just do his meeting without a blazer. He was a field agent; they couldn’t expect him to always look like the prosecutor he used to be.

She didn’t manage to get the stain out fully, and he can’t wear the blazer because of the extra damage she inflicted, but there was a small grin on her face when she revealed that it was slightly better. He granted her a smile as well. It was one of the few ones she received from him, and it made her feel like she really was part of the team.

They talk, Aaron and Elle. Twice a year. Just before the anniversaries of their attacks. She’s doing better away from the FBI. She has a daughter. Her name is Erin.

Exhale for five.

He had never really watched films as a child. There was too much risk involved, and most of his childhood was spent hiding, so there was never really the chance to go out with his friends to the cinema.

By the time he was old enough, being in a dark room full of strangers caused him to panic more than he relaxed and now, every time he goes out somewhere public, he finds himself profiling every single person because he needs to know that everyone else will be safe.

After the Charlie Chaplin film, there was a noticeable shift in the team dynamic. Morgan seemed to trust Jason again. Emily seemed more comfortable sitting with the girls and gossiping. Reid no longer hid his sleeves as much.

Movie nights became a bit more of a regular occurrence after that. There were days where Hotch would need to leave early because he needed to see Haley, and there were times where Reid would claim that he had already made plans, but on the occasions were they were all present, Hotch never really paid attention to the film.

He would be focused on the team. On how relaxed and happy they looked. Jason would smile at the screen, sighing when the film ended, pleased with all the loose threads being tied up and the characters finally receiving the happy endings they all deserved.

At the last movie night before he left, Gideon handed him a box. It was all the films they’d watched together, in DVD format so Jack would be able to watch them too. Hotch hadn’t really understood why it was being given to him and not one of the others, but he accepted them with a smile.

They’re proudly displayed on the shelves next to the tv, and whenever Jack wants to watch a film with his dad and aunt Jess, he picks one of those over anything else.

It’s working. Just think of the team and inhale.

That weird space of time, after the team accepted Rossi and he understood that things weren’t the same as they once were, but before Haley sent the divorce papers. There were some good memories then.

Like when some new bar had opened and they were doing a karaoke night and because Garcia knew the people, they’d invited her. And she of course, would not go without her favourite people so she had asked the entire team to come. Hotch had almost started crying when she hesitantly knocked on his office door and asked if he would be able to come. He’d never realised how much they loved him. He had always thought they put up with him because they needed to.

But when Garcia asked if he would sing with her because apparently, he was the only one with the right vocal range to do the duet with her, he realised that they did indeed love him. Even Emily was smiling as he allowed himself to be pulled on stage by a grinning Garcia. His voice was rusty- the last time he’d sung had been to Jack, and the boy had no concept of good singing anyways- but the hug she’d given him after, just for getting involved removed all of that shame.

She spent the night at his apartment because by the end of the night, she’d had too much to drink and he had offered to take her home. Morgan was already keeping an arm wrapped around JJ, and Rossi would have his hands full with Emily. Reid had been a caretaker his entire life, so Hotch dropped him home and said he would be fine.

She taught him how to make really good pancakes the next day. The recipe is still stuck to the fridge. Jack won’t eat any other type of pancakes.

And exhale. There were so many moments flooding to his memory now that they were all starting to merge together.

Morgan turning to him, Henry still in his arms. Things had been rocky since New York. Hotch knew Derek trusted him, and Morgan knew Aaron respected him, but they had both needed time to process what they’d said to each other then. Before they could actually make it up to each other, Hotch was lying about his hearing, Reid and Prentiss were getting trapped and Jordan Todd was struggling.

“Come on man,” he said.

“Everyone else is having their turn,” Hotch replied, not sure he wanted to hold someone so fragile and precious.

“Your part of everyone,” Morgan said.

Hotch had smiled and taken Henry from him. To his surprise, Henry had not started crying. Instead, he had wrapped his entire hand around Aaron’s pinkie.

“It feels like Jack was only just this size,” he said.

“You’re smiling,” Morgan whispered, stroking Henry’s cheek. Hotch looked up at him and saw that the rest of the team were conversing with each other, backs turned to the two of them.

“Derek, about New York-”

“I know. You never have to tell me. Now be quiet and let me take a photo of you.”

Hotch had rolled his eyes but allowed Morgan to do it. And if Hotch had asked Garcia to send him the photo of the two of them just smiling at Henry like the horrors they saw each day in that room didn’t exist because he wanted to frame it, well, nobody else was going to know.

Inhale.

After another case went badly- because now Jack was somewhere where Hotch would never see him, his ability to be competent had gone down the drain- Rossi came in, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, shot glasses in the other and Emily trailing behind him, looking uncomfortable as she was still unsure as to whether her presence was even wanted.

Dave left soon after he entered.

The moment Dave turned his back to them, Emily started apologising, saying she knew that was a them thing and she hadn’t wanted to intrude but Rossi had insisted that she go with him. Hotch had silenced her with a look, then proceeded to throw the alcohol away.

“I don’t want to drink,” he said.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to drink because when Foyet broke into my apartment, the smell of alcohol is the last thing I remember before the gunshot and now every time it’s near me, I want to vomit,” he explained, not really sure what reaction he was looking for.

“I’m taking you home,” she said.

Because she knew he was looking for a fight. He was trying to egg her on, make her say something insulting that he could argue with because he needed to feel something other than pain and helplessness.

She would make him feel something other than that, but it wasn’t going to be anger. She was going to make him feel safe, even if it was only for a night. So instead of taking him back to the apartment- because she refused to call it his home- where Morgan had replaced the bullet and carpet to the best of his ability, but they all knew it was superficial, she took him to her home.

Brushed his hair because she could always tell when he hadn’t done it himself, and she knew he loved the feeling of someone he trusted combing it, so long as they warned him before they went near him.

He fell asleep halfway through, and there were no nightmares.

The blanket she draped over him is at the foot of his bed. It’s the one he wraps around himself when the nightmares stop his eyes from closing. It’s the one Jack wants when he’s feeling sick.

Exhale.

Derek and Spencer came to Jack’s second soccer game. They came to the second because neither Aaron nor Dave wanted to deal with the teasing if Jack’s team did even worse than they had previously done.

When Jack had spotted his two other uncles in the stands, he’d cheered so loudly that the other team had lost the ball and he’d managed to score.

Derek had cheered loudly, Hotch had breathed a sigh of relief and Spencer had politely clapped, his book tucked under one arm.

During their break, Penelope had turned up, homemade and healthy snacks for all the kids in little brown paper bags ready and waiting for them. Hotch had never seen a group of first graders so excited about eating grapes.

They didn’t need to come. But after everything and everyone that had been taken from them over the course of the year, Hotch understood why they had. They needed something good to serve as a reminder that not everything they did was for nothing. That in the world, there were still good and innocent things.

Every single one of them- Derek, Dave, Penelope and Spencer- had smiled when Jack came over, grinning because his team had won, even though they technically did not keep score in his age group.

The moment is seared in his memory because it was the first smile he’d seen since Emily “died.” And that meant more to him than the bag Penelope had specially prepared for Jack (it had his name on it, and a lot of superhero stickers for decoration) because it proved to him that they would heal and move on.

He’s signed the agreement to go to Afghanistan when he got home. The book Spencer had been reading during the game came with him, and now it sits on the shelf in his home, alongside all the other books that had ever been gifted to him.

He’s almost there. Inhale.

Seeing them, all waiting and cheering- Spencer obnoxiously loudly and the girls less enthusiastically than he’d ever seen them- was what forced him to finish the triathlon as opposed to just giving up.

Then Beth had turned up, and he saw the subtle looks of approval on their faces. It was like a weight had been lifted. He loved Beth, and he knew Jack was going to love her too, but the team were fiercely protective of each other. If they didn’t approve, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But they did. In fact, it was Penelope that convinced her join them all when they said they were going to go and get something to eat.

They had been all sat at one table, slightly squished, but happily stuffing their faces with fries and milkshakes. Hotch had been mildly horrified that Jack knew exactly what to do when Morgan said earmuffs, but he appreciated the thought.

It was when Beth leant over and said that his family was something most people could only ever dream of that he realised how lucky he was. Because she was right. His family was a complete band of misfits, and they all looked like they were dressed for different things, but they were still his family and he wouldn’t trade him for the world.

The image of Haley had come to his mind then, but to his surprise, it hadn’t hurt, and he realised it was because he was happy. He was home. Maybe he had never really left it and it was just about realising, but whatever it was, his face had split into a wide grin and he’d felt tears forming in his eyes as he thanked them all.

For coming to support him.

For loving him, unconditionally, in spite of all his flaws.

For everything they had done.

For all the things he couldn’t say, but so desperately wanted to tell them.

And because they were his family, they had just known. It was written all over their smiles.

He wasn’t saying their family was perfect. Bad things happened.

Derek had been falsely accused of murder, and then had the past he had never wanted anyone to know about brandished everywhere.

Penelope had been shot outside her home, the one place she had a right to feel safe in.

Spencer had momentarily lost his ability to speak, his ability to do the one thing that made him feel happy.

Dave had solved the case that had been haunting him since he retired, and yet there was no justice or closure in the outcome.

Jennifer had been forced to tell parents that their child wasn’t coming home and had to listen as they hurled insults because it was easy to blame her, the image of her son just a thought away.

Emily had been taken from them because the past she had worked so hard to destroy had come back to haunt her, and when she came back, it was to icy glares and distrust.

Yet they’d recovered.

Derek continued to reclaim his body.

Penelope carried on smiling.

Dave never stopped fighting for justice.

Spencer still rambled on, and so long as they weren’t on a case, the others tried to not cut him off.

Jennifer held victims and slept soundly at night, content that she had done her best, and that was all she could do.

Emily opened up to the team, no longer afraid that her past would drown her because she had people to help her stay afloat.

They had all eventually found each other. They had all eventually come home, no matter how long it took or how long they had to fight for.

In fact, he’s about to go home too.

He can hear them. They’re all returning. They’re coming to get him. He can relax now. His breathing returns to normal- maybe even a little bit slower than normal. The team, his family, the people he loves more than anything are here. Which means everything is going to be fine. The world will not be so dark. In fact, he can even see a sliver of light.

“I am so sorry,” the doctor said to the family waiting outside for the dark-haired man. He’d been mumbling to himself. Remembering better times. But then his body had just given up on him. Too much had happened to him for him to keep fighting.

“There was nothing anyone could do. Just know that he wasn’t alone. He was at peace. He was remembering all of you. I promise.”

[seimeinotaka]

A beautiful gift for a beautiful flower: the Legendary Sword (Vil X MC fic)

It is still the 9th, so I’m still on time to upload a fic to celebrate Vil’s birthday. I wanted to give something he would love, so here it is, given and made with him and Ann in mind. Maybe one day I’ll upload Ann giving him also his so-wanted list hehe. But for now, I hope this will do!

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

-

This is a story from a young prince who lived in a faraway land.

~ ° ~

Vil had just returned from his afternoon walk as he crossed the now empty lounge, devoid of any of the birthday tables and balloons for his own celebration, as expected for it was the day after. Well, it was empty except for the lone presence of Ramshackle dorm’s prefect, Ann Hawthorne, and Vil’s almost professional headache.

“Vil-senpai, here!” the young girl said as she handed Vil a thick-looking envelope, with a purple ribbon on top.

The unexpected gift made him raise an eyebrow. “Potato, my birthday was yesterday and you were here, with your usual birthday interviews for the School’s News Section. You even took a picture of me. Did you somehow not know it was my birthday yesterday and made a last-minute gift to excuse yourself?”

Ann rolled her eyes and made a mocking grin. “Haha, how funny, there is no way in hell I can make this in one night. I had actually brought it with me, but well, I wanted you to read it, and I didn’t want to take up your time at your birthday party. I mean, you didn’t read Rook-senpai’s poems either, so it was fair that I handed you this now.”

Vague curiosity in his eyes, because he wasn’t really interested, just a little, Vil opened the envelope and took out a large stack of papers bound together with a purple thread. The words “Legendary Sword” could be read on the first page, and with a quick glance, Vil realized it was a script with some pictures in between.

~ ° ~ 

Long ago in the hidden remains of the Araceae Kingdom lived a beautiful young man, with brilliant cold amethyst eyes and delicate flawless skin. His hair was silky golden and he blinded everyone with his appearance. Every day, he devoted himself to his studies, from arts to economics, languages and science. In the afternoon he would train his body, fencing, wrestling, running, horse riding. He worked harder than anyone, never complaining, as he pushed himself day after day.

However, he was feared and scorned, for he was the scion of the wretched Zantedeschia household, Schwartz Zantedeschia. His family had ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, and had seized control of every other kingdom under the sun.

Shedding blood, many fought the Zantedeschia until one day a brave hero, wielding a mythical sword, was able to dethrone the cursed family and their household vanished from history. The hero, coming from the Leiron family, the rulers of the Lilium Kingdom that everyone had dismissed as negligible, was of pure heart and as the chosen hero, he was able to vanquish the evil.

However, the Zantedeschia weren’t completely destroyed and each heir was carefully trained in hopes of achieving their dream.

Before Schwartz, no one had been as successful nor had anyone worked as hard, and he was the only one to cast off from the shadows to fulfill his mission, leaving his homeland in shambles behind him.

To regain their former glory, and extract revenge, that was the reason for his journey.

~ ° ~ 

“A villain protagonist, really? This is your gift to me?” Vil took his eyes off the script for a moment to give Ann a dismissive and insulted glare.

Unamused, the girl rolled her eyes as she pushed the script closer to his face. “Keep reading, Vil-senpai.”

Vil kept his penetrating and heavy stare on her, though the young girl didn’t even flinch, probably used to his flair for the dramatic. However, the actor kept on reading.

~ ° ~ 

To fulfill his quest for revenge, he would need to seize the mythical sword Durendal, which had been the fall of his family. The next chosen holder would be Weiss Leiron, the heir of the Lilium Kingdom, adored by everyone for his purity. As soon as he turned of age, he would become the legitimate owner of Durendal.

Prince Schwartz had known of Weiss, meeting him long ago when he hid his identity to get to know the faces of his enemies. Even now, he was painfully aware, Weiss was beloved by every creature in the land, his affable nature charming everyone in spite of his failings. During that time, Schwartz came to learn that his own nature scared others, finding himself pushed away even if his true name hadn’t been revealed. His beauty alienated everyone he had met and his stoic personality was found distrustful by many, no matter what he did or said.

Thus for years, he couldn’t help but to grow deep resentment in his heart, jealousy taking root like a bloody, poisonous flower. So for Schwartz, this quest meant also his own reassurance of his worth to the world that had shunned him.

~ ° ~

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” Vil squinted as he kept on re-reading the last line, his frown growing deeper and deeper with every word.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying this?” Ann replied with a not so concealed smarmy smile.

“Your suspicious gaze makes me wonder if you are secretly a sadist. You’re not even trying to flatter me in the slightest, and of all people, you had to put him as the hero again. Really, you have a morbid sense of humor.”

“Who says Neige is the hero?”

“I am obviously Schwartz, as the narration clearly describes me. That would mean Neige can only be Weiss. Stop playing around, you aren’t fooling me.” Vil let out a long sigh. “At this rate, I’m going to have you list 200 beautiful things about me instead.”

“Please finish reading the thing, Vil-senpai? Do you judge books on the first page?”

Vil sighed again, gently shaking his head as his eyes went back to the papers in his hands.

~ ° ~ 

To aid him on his quest, Prince Schwartz had been sent with two trusted knights serving the Zantedeschia, the bow master Vert and the young knight Violett. Vert was a self-proclaimed defender of beauty and followed Schwartz wherever he would go. Violett had a tense relationship with Schwartz, feeling constricted by Schwartz’s rules and strictness, and with a promise of freedom after this journey. Whatever their goals were, they would protect him with their lives, as his travel would grow more dangerous the further he went. Prince Weiss had seven renowned knights and no matter Prince Schwartz’s prowess in combat and magic, it would be safer for him to be accompanied. The Araceae Kingdom was also on the northern end of the continent, hidden behind a harsh tundra and treacherous mountains, and Schwartz’s safety was to be prioritized.

As the prince and his knights traveled south, to reach the center of the continent where Durendal was enshrined, they met a group of four travelers in peril, surrounded by foul beasts. Even if it was dangerous, as it could blow his cover, Schwartz and his knights went to their rescue. In gratitude, the brawler Azure, the thief Vermillion, the young lost researcher Ai and her magical talking cat Hai joined Schwartz on his travels south.

~ ° ~

“Why do I get vague videogame allusions from this?” Vil arched an eyebrow at the recent development.

“Well,” Ann replied with a shrug. “They are classes you find in RPGs. It would make sense for Schwartz to gather several comrades that can cover any weakness he might have.”

“Then? What is your class, Ann?” Vil turned to the girl, a mocking smirk dawning on his beautiful face. “I don’t think you’d be able to be a Healer here.”

Ann pursed her lips before reluctantly answering, “I am the very important NPC tagging along. You all can fight to protect me.”

“Fufufu, bold of Ai to wander alone with her talking cat who can barely manage a spell. I wonder if they will be of help.” With a dark chuckle, Vil resumed reading.

~ ° ~ 

Vermillion and Azure hailed from the Rosaceae Kingdom, a land not far away from Lilium and the shrine for Durendal. Originally a couple of bandits, they had initially attempted to trick Ai and her cat, lost travelers who had just survived a shipwreck and were looking for a way back to their homeland, the Asteraceae Empire on the other side of the world. However, after being saved by the same girl they wanted to rob, they decided to reform and help them reach a port. Being told of their quest to reach Lilium, the group tagged along unaware of Schwartz’s true intentions. They all believed he was a young man kidnapped and sent to Araceae who was trying to go back to his own land, Vermillion and Hai hoping they could snag a reward for their efforts.

To reach Lilium and the shrine, the group would need to cross a perilous desert, where the rays of the sun would be so merciless that the unprepared would easily die. Unaccustomed to such warm weather, Schwartz and Violett struggled with the inclemency of the climate, growing weaker with every step. However, Schwartz was not willing to abandon his mission, even at his own health’s peril, and he continued his trip until he grew gravely ill.

~ ° ~

“You’re not writing this right now, but one could think you were expecting me to question your abilities and you kindly decided to get some petty revenge on Schwartz,” Vil said flatly, as his eyes dangerously narrowed, throwing daggers at Ann.

“Excuse me, I would be incapable of doing that, Vil-senpai.”

“Have you forgotten the time your hand slipped and your fist casually connected with Rook’s jaw? Or the time you-”

“That was a legit reason to punch him, okay?” Ann pouted as she folded her arms in front of her. “And we don’t need to talk about other things, go on and keep reading.”

~ ° ~ 

Taking a detour, the group reached the land of Oleaceae in hopes of finding a doctor to treat Schwartz and Violett. In their search, they found a pair of young men running away from a large group of pursuers. Ill and weakened, Schwartz still led the party to defend and protect the men in need of help, learning that the people running away, a dancer by the name of Asfar and his servant Burtiqali had been wrongly accused of murdering Asfar’s father. Even if Asfar had chosen to distance himself from his father’s business, one of the largest spice traders in Oleaceae and the land, he was the heir to the family and people within the clan wanted to get rid of the father and son to claim the business for themselves.

After a narrow escape from Oleaceae, the group learned that Burtiqali was a proficient chemist, and he provided relief to Schwartz and Violett, in gratitude for helping them escape. With no place to go, Asfar and Burtiqali decided to travel with Schwartz, hoping to find a way to clear Asfar’s name if they reached Lilium and found the hero Weiss.

Meanwhile in the Lilium Kingdom, word of Schwartz’s quest reached the ears of Weiss.

“Someone sullied is not fit to be a hero, only those pure can be one. Envy, jealousy, those emotions are unbecoming. A hero is a beacon of hope, a model to follow, a paragon of virtue. Someone who is envious of the natural course of things is not fit to be a hero.”

Those were the words of the beloved hero, the next in line to inherit Durendal. He looked at the eyes of his loyal knights, seven brave men who would follow Weiss wherever he went, taking his word almost as if it came from the heavens. Anyone wishing to follow the right path would look closely at the Prince of Lilium, with his bright and kind features and no darkness in his eyes. For his sake, they would even shut their hearts, to do what was right.

If Schwartz was willing to attack the hero, they would prevent him from even touching a single strand of the hero’s hair. A villain must never win, and good will always defeat, vanquish evil. In these times of crisis, with the kingdom’s growing unrest year after year caused by the Zantedeschia, the populace was suffering. Inequality, famine, disease, they had been slowly creeping in Lilium, and Schwartz’s arrival would be the key to opening the forbidden box.

Thus, they needed to bring swift judgement to the villain trying to usurp power once more.

~ ° ~ 

“A paragon of virtue, the meaning of a hero,” Vil uttered those words, almost wounded.

“In my world, the origin of the word ‘Hero’ was one meaning Defender.”

“It’s the same as this world. Color me surprised, though, I wouldn’t put you as a reader.”

“How rude, senpai, even after all this time you still think the worst of me.” Ann pretended to sigh dramatically, though Vil just rolled his eyes. “You probably think I spend my time thinking of how to annoy you and picking my nose.”

He let out a chuckle, his now trademark sardonic smile aimed at her. “Given how much you neglect your appearance, would you blame me for believing it?”

~ ° ~ 

As they traveled, the burden of his secret mission weighed heavily on Schwartz’s shoulders, as he found himself growing attached to his companions. Keeping an aloof distance and not hiding his critical tongue and stoic and strict nature, he had assumed they would be simply people he would be using to achieve his goals. Schwartz had always been alone and feared by everyone, so he hadn’t expected anything else. The kind interaction of these people made him at times believe they could be friends, something he had once thought impossible.

After all, no one knew better than him that he was sullied with jealousy and anger, stains perhaps too deep in his soul to be the hero recognized by Durendal. After all, the legendary sword would only choose someone who was a hero and the more Schwartz looked at himself in the mirror, the further he traveled in his journey, the more he believed himself to be the villain, just as his ancestors before him.

~ ° ~ 

This time, Vil had no snappy retort or effusive reaction. Instead, he solemnly stared at the words in front of him, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He wouldn’t admit aloud that Schwartz’s feelings were hitting too close to home, the traces of his Overblot still lingering in his thoughts. His own failings caused his heart to be tainted with ink and even to his day, he struggled with his wish to be cast once as a hero, to prove he wasn’t the villain everyone appointed and believed he was.

His eyes briefly met Ann’s, before he diverted his gaze. He recalled the times she had called him several things, such as kind, that he, to this day, did not believe he was, and he wondered if there were some of those feelings portrayed in the script in his hands.

She didn’t say anything, as she quietly looked at him with a warm soft smile, in hopes that he kept on reading to find the answer he was suddenly seeking for.

~ ° ~

Just as the travelers arrived at the shrine where Durendal rested, Schwartz came to face his sworn enemy, Prince Weiss, the paragon of goodness and the hero of the land. He almost laughed maniacally, as the seven holy knights came to protect him. It would truly be a fight of good and evil, and for once he decided to unveil his ugly mask to the oblivious people who wrongly decided to accompany him.

~ ° ~ 

“Did you honestly write ‘Fighting scene goes here’?” Vil arched an eyebrow, with a dismissive and almost stunned glare at Ann, who simply blinked in return.

“Do I look like I know how those kind of fighting scenes normally go in a script?”

“Shouldn’t you know it? You ARE writing this after all.”

“You can make it up as you want.” Ann waved her hand nonchalantly, and Vil let out a groan. The nerve of the girl to leave out the most important part of the scene, and he thought of thousand ways to express his utter shock and frustration. Ann huffed. “If you really want it, you can pretend I wrote you kick Neige in the balls…Ah, but be careful with your heels, you might break his baby-making machine and that might give you trouble.”

“Baby. Making. Machine.”

“His dick, senpai. You break his dick.”

Vil’s blank expression was on her for a couple of seconds, before his line of sight was interrupted by her gently shoving the script toward his face.

~ ° ~ 

The knights defeated and Weiss wounded, Schwartz would lift his sword, deep in anger to decapitate his nemesis, at the protest of his friends. The anger of knowing that his family had been shunned for years for crimes they never committed, Schwartz finding himself damned for the only reason of being born under the Zantedeschia name fueled his fatal blow. As the sword fell like a guillotine, an arrow threw it away from its trajectory, his friends deciding to oppose him in a battle they knew they might lose. But they would face him because they knew what kind of person Schwartz truly was, cold and aloof, but secretly caring, and they didn’t want him to commit a heinous crime.

Somehow, his words reached Schwartz, horrified at the monster he had become. Falling on his knees, he threw away his magic tome and his sword, realizing he was no hero, he was the villain awaiting his execution. He would no longer be capable of wielding Durendal, no, the idea of wielding it was ridiculous from the very beginning. And to wound him further, his close knight Vert had picked up the Legendary Sword, handing it to a wounded Weiss, as he protected him from any harm on their escape.

“I was hoping you would recognize your own worth without needing external validation. You do not need Durendal. The wielder of Durendal is the one who shines like the sun, the most beautiful at heart. One day, you will surely be recognized, farewell, Schwartz, but my heart truly lies with Weiss, who is unclouded by sin and is as radiant as any star.”

Vert’s betrayal caused everyone to fall back, taking everyone by surprise. While Asfar, Burtiqali and Ai had caught grasp of Schwartz’s true intentions, they never realized Vert had sent a warning to Lilium. Tending their wounds, Schwartz finally explained the truth he had concealed.

Long ago, as a great war emerged, the Zantedeschia were one of many houses caught in the strife. Fighting to protect their territory and lending a hand to nearby lands, they grew in power, and lords of other lands deemed them too dangerous. While they hadn’t invaded other kingdoms, they were plagued by fear, and decided to vanquish them before they could do anything. And thus, they imparted their judgement and executed most of the royal family except for one who managed to escape, keeping the bloodline alive and hiding at the ends of the world.

They gave the honor to a random lowborn house, the Lilium, as they would make the better heroes for a loving fairytale. A chivalrous story of the good and weak defeating the evil and strong. Pinning all of their internal problems on the Zantedeschia, they decided it was for the best to brand them as the evil of the world, and thus it would be allowed to destroy them. Because Durendal happened to choose the prince of Lilium, they could embellish their tale which was no more than political machinations to benefit just a small few, while giving crumbs of justice to the unknowing folk.

And thus, with the passage of time, the world would know of the story of the evil Zantedeschia and the good Lilium and it became the truth for everyone. Except for the surviving bloodline of the Zantedeschia who relayed their truth to their successors, hoping that one day, they would finally be acquitted of something they never committed. And if Durendal chose any of them, then it would finally be proof that they weren’t the evil they were always thought to be.

“Did you want to wield Durendal for yourself or for your bloodline and your people?” Ai had posed this question to Schwartz, who had tried everything and had failed.

“For them, but also for myself, though it no longer matters. Someone like me isn’t meant to be a hero. Which Legendary Sword would choose a murderer driven by jealousy? Which kind of people would follow a hero tainted by anger, envy, and resentment? Weiss is as radiant as the sun, I am the cold moon doomed to die at every dawn.”

“I don’t believe you are the villain you have convinced yourself to be, nor is that one born a hero. If you still wish to try, there is still time for you to see if Durendal has rejected you.”

“Even if it doesn’t choose me, I want my clan’s name to be cleared for sins pinned on us.”

Because of Schwartz coming to Lilium, the official ceremony for Weiss to become the next wielder was rushed and would be before he was of age. It was also to quell people’s anger, as their issues in their land had become unbearable to wear and a hero would bring peace to the people, as Weiss truly believed with all of his heart. To bring light to cast away the shadows, he would take his place as the hero.

Apologizing for what he had done, Schwartz asked his friends if they would accompany in a final quest. If he were to be fought and executed, so be it, and if he was never to become Durendal’s wielder, so be it, but at least, he would want to denounce the infamy his family had been accused of. He would accept his death if it at least meant the truth was finally known, and with it the Zantedeschia would be no more. He was surprised when everyone decided to go on with the journey, everyone knowing what kind of man he was, and wishing to support him one last time.  Thus, Schwartz and his friends traveled to Lilium to set right what was wrong.

“I am Prince Schwartz Zantedeschia from the Araceae Kingdom and I have come to reclaim the innocence of my people, unjustly accused in the past of crimes they did not commit. If I have to fight the hero chosen by Durendal, so be it! But on this day, the truth shall be known!”

“I will not let you, Prince Schwartz,” Prince Weiss proclaimed. “The Zantedeschia have become the evil of this land, and will be purged once more. You even wanted to steal this holy blade, someone like you is unfit to be Durendal’s wielder.”

Prince Weiss fought Prince Schwartz, not letting him say anything else. And deeply wounded after so many battles, Prince Schwartz fell on his knee, the sign of his loss and imminent execution. With a heavy movement, Prince Weiss swung Durendal, only to find that it wouldn’t even touch one strand of Schwartz’s hair, falling to the ground and staying there unmoving no matter how hard Weiss tried to lift it.

For Durendal would never harm the wielder it had chosen.

Surprising everyone, Schwartz included, he found himself picking up the sword, glowing as beautifully as the sun, a sign it had picked his newfound hero. However, before anyone could rejoice, the flames of revolution stormed into place, as Schwartz and his friends had to flee Lilium.

~ ° ~ 

“And that’s when the first movie ends,” Ann chirped happily as Vil closed the script having finished reading it, “setting up the second one where Weiss goes batshit evil because he wasn’t the chosen hero as his land falls into shambles because of a revolution unfolding because the government was trash. Schwartz and his friends had to flee and embark on a journey to unfold a thousand year conspiracy and reveal the people behind the scenes of every tragedy. Burtiqali might or might not have to face the fact he kinda murdered Asfar’s dad and tried to set Asfar up but it blew up on him. Ai and Hai try to go back home, Violet has to reevaluate his relationship with Schwartz, tension between Vert and Scwhartz for the treason he committed, and Azure and Vermillion try to redeem themselves from their petty felonies while working as comic relief.”

Vil blinked for a moment before bursting out laughing for a couple of minutes. “A sequel, really? You even thought that far?”

“There are too many developments to fit in one movie. This isn’t a cash-grab sequel, it’s because the plot is too heavy to work in only one.”

“Pffft!” Vil couldn’t even stop himself from making that grin, between condescending and touched. “I didn’t know you had quite the imagination, I know you make a comic and you made your friends cry with it, but I didn’t expect a conspiracy for Legendary Sword. You truly never watched any of the films, the sword’s name is Excalibur by the way.”

“I knew the name, but Durendal fits better, duh. The meaning of Durendal’s name has been debated actually, but a common point is how it resists and endures. It was a sturdy sword, so of course it would endure, that is why it had to be the Legendary sword here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your obtuse logic, Ann.”

“If you’ve read as much as you claim to have, you will concede that former heroes weren’t good-natured people. It was a term given to those humans who defied all odds to achieve something impossible. In fact, many of them were terrible people struggling with vices. It was with time, especially modern times, that the word hero morphed into what we see, the pure-hearted paragon of goodness.”

“I almost poisoned Neige. How many heroes kill their rival in a fit of jealousy?”

“I like reading, and I realized the most valuable heroes weren’t the ones who never did wrong, but the ones who faced their own weaknesses and demons, and at their lowest, they could go on. You aren’t born a hero, you become one. Durendal chose Schwartz because he was willing to live on with his resentment and envy and help others. Durendal recognized Schwartz’s struggles and the time and effort he had spent all his life, trying to live up to his own morals. He saved people he encountered because it was the right thing to do, even if it was at odds with his goals. Would you call a villain someone who helps others out of the wishes of their heart?”

Vil opened his mouth to refute everything she had said, but Ann lifted a hand, a sign she wasn’t even done.

“You didn’t harm Neige in the end, and you overblotted because you regretted what you were going to do. You had a moment of weakness because you bottled it all in and because you are human. But your weakness doesn’t define your worth, it’s how you deal with your failures and faults what does. I told you, didn’t I? You are a hero, Vil. And I thought of making a story for the hero you deserved to represent.”

“…You depicted what happened during the VDC. That is no original story,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t mocking her. In fact, he was saying it to try to confront his own mixed feelings, at how she had turned his own struggles in a story of him being the hero. To be seen at his worst, yet being given this…

“It stops being based on that at the end, and there’s still the sequel, don’t forget. I haven’t finished it, but it can be a future birthday gift, right? I am a no-name person, but I’m giving it to you so you can give it to a director or a producer or a big shot and tell him ‘Hey, I got this great idea for a movie’. Obviously, you are Schwartz, the description was there so no one would get funny ideas of casting Neige.”

“You have no idea how these things work. No one will take me seriously if I hand them this.”

“Then arrange for someone to hand it to them then, duh.”

Vil chuckled. “Of course, I might follow your whims, if you behave well. Though I can’t say I hated this gift, you’d better improve your written action scenes next time.” There was no way he was giving this to Adella.

With a bright smile, not knowing that her gift would never reach the light of any studio, Ann excused herself, not before waving at him as she disappeared from the corridor. Vil himself reached his own room, carefully closed the door and threw himself on his bed. The script was carefully held between his arms, as he sighed.

“What a naïve girl, no one would make this film,” he said to no one, disappointed.

Vil knew how the industry worked. Such a story as the one depicted in this tale deviated too much from the norm to become a mainstream film and the budget needed was too large for an independent studio. Thus, only Vil would know of this story, the story of Schwartz Zantedeschia.

Even so, he held the script tightly against his heart, as he closed his eyelids to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

-

This has a lot of Author’s notes to make things more understandable.

Every character’s name is, as you might have guessed, based on a particular color. The color designation was depending on the origin of the fairy tale. Schwartz (Vil), Weiss (Neige) and Violett (Epel) got the German names for the colors black, white and violet, respectively. Vert (Rook) is the only exception, his name coming from French for green, this is to highlight that in the end he is a traitor of sorts to Schwartz.

Azure (Deuce) and Vermillion (Ace)’s original story hails from England, so they got variants of blue and red. Aladdin was written by a Syrian author, so Asfur (Kalim) and Burtiqali (Jamil) are the Arabic words for yellow and orange. I don’t know Arabic, so I am not sure if that’s the proper way you’d spell those words in the English alphabet, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know. Finally, while Ann comes originally from England, her character Ai and Hai (Grim) are in a way from Japan, so they are the Japanese words for indigo and gray.

Every character’s last name comes from a particular flower. Schwartz’s comes from Zantedeschia, or the calla lily. The calla lily can be found in a purple color so deep it might even look black. In spite of its name, it is not a true lily, hence it comes from the Zantedeschia genus and from the Araceae family. In the language of flowers, it represents beauty (hence ‘calla’, beautiful in Greek), purity, holiness, faithfulness, rebirth and resurrection. Funny though, the flower IS poisonous because of course Vil gets a poisonous flower.  :^)

Meanwhile, Weiss’s Leiron is the Greek word people believe referred to the white Madonna lily, and his Kingdom’s name is Lilium, the Genus for the lily flowers. Lilies have different meanings, depending on the color. White ones represent virginity, purity and modesty, while yellow ones represent falsehood and gaiety and orange means hatred. It is used in funerals in the west and are actually poisonous as well.

The other kingdoms come from the family of the Roses (Heartslabyul people), Chrysanthemums (Ann and Grim), and Jasmine (Kalim and Jamil). Because the author of the story of Aladdin is from Syria, I picked the national flower from that country.

Also, it’s ok Vil, you can make it an anime, or you can blackmail Crowley for $$$ and make it your club’s pet project :^)  Ehehehe

It was longer than expected, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[dearcat1]

Bastardology

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Event: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020

Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki/Xanxus

Summary: Naruto eats Xanxus out of house and home and casually talks no jutsus him. (Not that she realizes, there are more important things to think about, like ramen.)

Story:

"Seriously?" Nobody answers her but Naruto hadn't been hoping for a reply anyway. Kurama's mocking snickers were more than enough, thank you. "Can't a girl have 15 minutes to eat some ramen?" 

That question, too, was rhetoric but it receives an answer regardless. "Hmm, sure?" The guy is a brunette, small and adorable and with a head full of fluffy hair that she has a hard time resisting. The urge to pet him is almost too strong. 

Beside him sits a white-haired man, eating marshmallows leisurely. Naruto recognizes another pranking spirit on sight. "Ooh? And who would you be?" 

"Uzumaki Naruto," and she's too damn hungry to complete the usual introduction. "Where's the nearest ramen stand?" She can deal with the weird interdimensional jump later. Their blank faces are answer enough. Naruto shrugs, she'll find it herself and jumps down the table. "Oh yeah, sorry about your forest." 

So she had been a tiny bit startled when they'd pulled her from Ichiraku. And maybe, just maybe, Naruto might be a little Rasengan happy these days. It's hardly Naruto's fault.

As if on queue, a part of the wall crumbles, the forest after it flattened to the ground, and Naruto blushes, gesturing vaguely towards the door before she leaves, long blonde hair swaying behind her.

One of the guys falls into step with her. Dark hair, are those feathers? Red eyes, scars all over him and angst oozing out of every pore. Great, this one is a Bastard 2.0, Naruto can already tell. She's also a master of Bastard-Speak and the leading expert in the field of "how to socialize your bastard." 

She needs a better name for it. Bastardology? 

Better than anything her father would ever come up with, that's for sure. "Come on," Naruto herds him to where her nose is guiding her. "You're paying for my ramen." This one, at least, doesn't know better yet. 

Bastard 2.0 snorts, not even faltering. 

Naruto rolls her eyes right back. "Of course you will, you guys dragged me here. Take responsibility!"

All he answers her with is a one-eyed glare. 

But as mentioned before, Naruto is an expert in bastardology. "Save it, I'm not one of the fangirls." Bastards always have hoards of them. "They're your friends, believe it." 

To that, Bastard 2.0 grunts incredulously.

"Oh, get over it," Naruto pokes him on the stomach. Bastards need physical and verbal affection, it helps them with their regretful bastardy. That said, nobody needs to know that Naruto is purposefully annoying with it. 

This bastard, though, seems to be more in the lines of Sasuke after the invasion instead of Sasuke after the Fourth War. He pulls out something from his belt and Naruto reacts on instinct, she tanks the attack to keep the civilians behind her safe and barely manages to redirect the Rasengan she was about to ram into his gut. 

"Oh man," she slips his weapon into her pouch and looks despairingly at the crumbling building behind him. This universe is so breakable. So damn breakable. This one was even just a normal Rasengan. "All I want is some damn ramen, you bastard."

That did scorch her a little, though. Which contrary to popular belief, given Naruto's well... Narutoness, is actually pretty impressive. Of course, Kurama is already dealing with it. Speaking off, the energy… it felt like Kurama on a pissy day. 

Nowhere near Kurama's old levels of rage but like a human version of it. You know, instead of a centuries-old chakra monster. 

Bastard 2.0 is looking at her, eyes slightly widened and mouth parted. Damn him, really, are all bastards this pretty? Naruto props her hand on her hip and glares him down, doing her best Ino impression. She's dealt with Kurama when he was the King of Angst, he can deal with Feathered Murder over here. "Well?" 

The guy grunts, sending a pointed look towards her weapons pouch. Naruto, just as pointedly, ignores it. She rolls her eyes, snags him by the wrist and drags him behind her. "Now, you're absolutely paying for my ramen, believe it." She was going to be nice, too. Eat maybe three bowls. Now she's going to empty his wallet.

Not only does she empty his wallet, she pulverizes it. It's no like she set out to be mean about it, alright? She's just been helping with well… pretty much everything. Being a one-woman army has its downfalls. Between working and working and meetings and more working, Naruto hadn't honestly noticed how damned hungry she was. Just that she was.

Which, it turns out, is far too damn hungry. The place is no Ichiraku but the ramen is still good and the cook had no problem sending people out to buy more ingredients as soon as Naruto gave him Feathered Murder's wallet. 

The guy's surprise at Naruto handing it over had been hilarious. She can sort of see why Jiraya did it.

Still, she eats mostly the day away but once she's done, Feathered Murder's wallet back in her hands, she snags him again and decides against wandering. 

They find a nice rooftop with a view of the ocean. Or maybe, it's more accurate to say that Naruto finds it and drags Bastard 2.0 with her but he hasn't left. So there's that. "So… why are you so angry anyway?" 

"What is it to you, trash?" 

Naruto ignores the bite in the tone, ignores the insult. She's been called far worse, there's been more venom in the voices of people that now greet her with a smile of admiration. This is nothing to her. "Nothing, really. I just figured I'm as unbiased as you'll ever get, bastard." She is, after all from another dimension.

Bastard 2.0 watches her in silence for a moment and then drops down to sit by her side, close enough that Naruto can feel his heat. Unlike Sasuke, who ranted his fury at her, screamed it between punches, Xanxus tells her in quite even tones that sound of resignation.

For all that she loves them, Naruto thinks Xanxus would understand her better than Sakura or Kakashi. Though maybe not Sasuke. But they're both up there. But the more he talks, the less Naruto finds herself comparing the two bastards. They are both bastards, of course. 

But Sasuke is her rival, Gaara her best friend. Xanxus? She thinks that if she let out all those dark thoughts Naruto has long kept inside her, Xanxus would understand them quite well.

"You deserved to be Decimo," she tells him, frankly. Because he did. Would he have been a good one? That Naruto doesn't know but if the title was given to the sons of the current leader, adopted or not, Xanxus qualified. "But why did you want to be?"

Or did he ever? Because to Naruto, it sounds more like Xanxus was hurt that it was denied to him in the first place.

Xanxus makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, something a little disbelieving. And Naruto wishes she could point him to the direction of the swordsman who has been following them since the beginning, discrete as he thought himself to be. But she asked and Xanxus answered so she grabs a hold of his hand instead.

"Growing up," she tells him, staring at the same landscape he's pretending to watch, "the villagers hated me. The demon brat. They would always look at me with those eyes and I hated it, you know?" 

Naruto drags her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. "The old man used to visit me at the orphanage. The one person who liked me in the entire village. The Hokage. The Third. But for me, he was the old man. Closest thing to family I had." 

"I love him still, and I forgive him," she ignores Kurama listening quietly as well. "But I'm not an idiot. My parents had friends, a student, but none of them approached me. Not once. To protect me, they said. I know now. He was the old man to me but he was always the Third as well."

There's resentment there that she refused to acknowledge to anybody else, "my father sealed the nine-tailed demon inside of me when I was born and since then, I was a container first and his adopted granddaughter second. For the rest of them, I was a weapon, something dangerous, to be wary of." 

Kurama feels worried and she smiles, sending him affection back. "I didn't know, of course. For a long time, I didn't know I was a container. The old man only told me when a traitor spilt the secret and I'll never know if he planned to tell me about my parents. He died before, you know?" 

"But even before I knew, I wanted to be Hokage. I wanted them to acknowledge me, I thought that it'll show them I'm worthy of them. I know now the old man told me that to keep me loyal, I'm not an idiot." No matter what people like to tell her. "But I want to be Hokage still. Just for a different reason." 

Xanxus is full in looking at her now, not even pretending otherwise. "Why? They're shitty people." 

A part of Naruto thinks: I know. "There are people in the village who used to spit at me and now won't stop smiling my way," Naruto tells him, somehow darkly amused. "I don't think I'll ever trust it. But the Hokage is the strongest ninja in the village and I need to be strong. If I am not, how will I protect the friends I finally managed to make along the way?"

And then, impulsively, she sends a smile his way. "I've decided you're my friend, too." Naruto points a finger to his face and watches him go cross-eyed as he leans back. "I'll protect you too, believe it. And kick your ass if you're being too much of a bastard!"

The fist closing on her shirt makes her smile gains teeth. She's expecting Xanxus to throw a punch, she's expecting a somewhat exasperated spar that will leave them both satisfied and her message received. So Naruto lets him drag her to her feet, lets him pull her close. 

What she's not expecting are chapped lips against hers, a hand cradling her cheek. Naruto makes a surprised sound and ignores Kurama's facepalm and mutterings about her tendencies to reform assholes everywhere. She presses closer, going up on her tiptoes to deepens the kiss.

[writerofshit]

for the ship asks, 19 (things you said when we were the happiest we ever were) and stream team (treh, myatt, and lil j)?

(So. Maybe not to the heart of the prompt, but the happiest I've ever been was simply existing with people I loved.)

19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were 

“Goddamnit Jeremy!” Matt’s voice rings out through the apartment, loud and vaguely angry. He's in the kitchen, which means he has just stumbled upon what Jeremy has done. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

Jeremy glances at Trevor, sitting beside him on the couch. “Any chance you wanna take the blame for this one?”

“Depends.” Trevor doesn’t take his eyes off of his character on screen. “What did you do?”

Before Jeremy can respond, Matt stomps into the room, empty cereal box in hand. “You knew I was looking forward to this!" On the last word, he gestures aggressively with the box. "Asshole."

"Matt, look-" on screen, Jeremy's character dies, and he tosses the controller onto the coffee table. "In my defense, Trevor did it."

"Oh no no, don't involve me in this." Trevor leans to the side, an apparent effort to make his character do the same. It doesn't work, and he dies too. "Fuck."

"Sounds great, but a little difficult on an empty fucking stomach." Matt says drily, hand on his hip. "You owe me a box of cereal, Jeremy."

"Matt, come here." Jeremy reaches toward him, but he doesn't move. "Matt please." He makes a grabby motion at him. With a heavy sigh, Matt extends his hand and allows himself to be pulled onto the couch. "Listen, why don't the three of us go out to eat, that way you're not eating cereal for dinner like an animal-"

“Well that’s just mean for no reason.”

“And on the way back I will buy you more cereal.” Jeremy finishes as though Matt hadn’t interrupted him.

Matt eyes him suspiciously, as though he’s waiting for the catch. He looks to Trevor as well, who holds up his hands in ‘I don’t know, I’m just here’. Finally, he nods. “Fine. But you’re paying for me.”

“Sure Matt.” Jeremy says with a patient smile. “I’ll buy you dinner too.”

“Hey Jeremy,” Trevor begins, resting his arm on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Since you’re throwing around cash like you have it, remember that time you tried to blame me for eating Matt’s cereal?”

“You mean literally three minutes ago?” Matt says, chuckling.

“You guys are the worst.” Jeremy leans back into the couch, crossing his arms firmly.

“Says the cereal thief.” Matt says with a pointed look at him.

Jeremy tries his best to stare back, to hold an intimidating, or at least neutral expression. He fails after approximately three seconds. He’s got Trevor giggling in one ear and Matt looking annoyed at him. Even the strongest man couldn’t do it, and he is few from strong when it comes to them. He breaks into a grin, and Matt shakes his head.

“Asshole.” But he looks away, and Jeremy knows he’s smiling too. That’s all he can ask for.

---

Matt wakes up to the sound of the bedroom door opening. He has had one arm wrapped around Jeremy’s waist, and he tightens his grip ever so slightly. If someone is here to kill them, he won’t be much of a defense, but it’s still his instinct to try and protect his best friend. He cracks one eye open to find that it is in fact Trevor in the doorway, finally getting home.

“Hey Trevor.” He says quietly, hoping not to wake Jeremy. It doesn’t work, and Jeremy shifts beside him, lifting his head to also peer at the door.

“Hey, you made it.” He mumbles, head falling back to the pillow.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m so late.” Matt hears the sound of Trevor dropping his keys and wallet into the dresser, and then the sound of the closet door. “You wouldn’t believe the shit that went down after you guys left.” 

“Hmm. Can’t wait to hear this. We’re all ears.” Despite his words, Jeremy turns himself toward Matt, curling into his chest. Matt rolls to his back, bringing Jeremy with him.

Trevor re-emerges from the closet, presumably in pajamas of some sort. He slips into bed beside Jeremy, and Matt makes his best effort to reach an arm toward him. “What happened?”

Trevor's hand finds his in the dark. “Just… remind me who put me in charge of Michael and Gavin?”

“That would be you and Geoff, I think.” Matt squeezes his hand gently. “At least you’re home now.”

“Yeah, barely. You know they somehow got involved in a three hour police chase?”

“Jesus Christ.” It’s not shocking by any means, and they’ve all certainly had worse, but still. The aftermath of Michael and Gavin chaos can be a real shitshow.

“They got away, obviously, but Jack and I are both thinking we lay low for a few days.” Trevor squeezes Matt’s hand one last time before pulling away, opting instead to curl himself around Jeremy.

“Makes sense to me.” Laying low may not be his favorite way to operate, but he trusts Trevor’s judgement. If he and Jack think it’s necessary, it must be. Odds are, it’ll be the three of them holed up in this apartment for a week, the rest of the crew in various homes across the city. 

“Wha-“ Jeremy shifts at the touch. “Shit, Trevor, I’m sorry, I missed all of that.”

Trevor only chuckles. “You’re good, man.” Matt feels Trevor’s hand slip between his chest and Jeremy’s. “Go back to sleep.” He hears Trevor press a kiss to Jeremy’s shoulder, followed by a fond, contented sigh.

Maybe laying low won’t be all bad. Boring, sure, but at least they’ll be together.

---

“You know I love you both to death, and I’ll support anything you guys want to do, but if you think that wall is structurally sound, I- I really don’t know how to help you.” Trevor is standing in the middle of the living room, one hand on his hip, pointing at two precariously leaned pillows.

“Alright, it’s not done yet-“ Matt begins, shooting him an exasperated look.

“Yeah, and we’ll thank you not to judge us until our vision is fully realized.” Jeremy says, voice monotone. Immediately, he breaks into a giggle. “God, can you imagine if I talked like that?” he picks up his beer from the coffee table, taking a long sip.

“See, I don’t like that because it really sounded like you were doing an impression of me.” Matt says, kneeling down next to the compromised pillow wall. He tries to adjust it slightly, and it collapses, taking three more pillows with it. “Shit.”

“I don’t wanna say I told you so, but…” Trevor trails off into laughter.

“Alright Mr. Fuckin Engineer,” Matt sits back and gestures broadly at the mess of pillows and blankets surrounding him. “You figure out how to give pillows integrity.”

“Well first off, don’t build walls out of pillows.” Trevor mutters, sitting cross legged beside Matt on the floor.

“Trevor, it’s a pillow fort.” Jeremy emphasizes, waving his beer around. “What are we supposed to use, concrete?”

“No,” Trevor says, squeezing the various pillows that have fallen, searching for the firmest ones. “but also don’t use the softest pillows we own as a base.” He takes the one he’s least satisfied with and chucks it in Jeremy’s direction, hitting him squarely in the chest.

“Trevor!” Jeremy stares at him incredulously, mouth slightly hanging open. “I did nothing to you!”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Matt deadpans, and now Jeremy whips the pillow back at him.

The entire situation dissolves quickly from there, going from the very ambitious fort plan to an all out pillow war. It’s all obscenities and insults and laughter, pillows flying in all directions. Jeremy claims the couch, yelling something about height advantage and fairness. Trevor full on falls multiple times, trying desperately to jump over projectiles. It absolutely doesn’t work. Matt tries to take shelter under a blanket, which is a poor choice. The other two truce long enough to dogpile on him, and then they’re three idiots wrestling on the floor.

When they’re all tuckered out, they wind up just staying down there, constructing something that’s less pillow fort and more pillow nest. Regardless of what their original plan was, Trevor is inclined to think that this is better. Its nice to just have fun, be a little silly with the two people he loves most. He can’t think of a better way to spend a a Tuesday night.

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Felix Idea

Continuation of this

“-and anyway, I told Marinette pink is just her color, but I’m sure you would have swooned if you’d seen her in that blue dress she made. Like, not even you, Sunshine would have been able to get out a word in the presence of that angel! A revelation in pastel hues, lemme tell you!”

“Alya,” Felix managed to interrupt her when she had to take a breath. Finding the Ladyblogger had been easy, but getting her to shut up for long enough to speak? Not so much. “Marinette” - or Marian, or whatever her name had been - “looks great! I believed you the first fifteen minutes you told me about it, and I still do now.”

“Oh, but you can’t believe it until you have seen her!”, Alyas blonde friend - Rose? - emphasized as her goth girlfriend nodded along. “We should go visit her right away or you’ll miss the opportunity to witness true lov- beauty!”

God, how did his cousin survive these girls. Felix had only been in their presence for minutes and he already felt the urge to stick his head in the Seine, just to drown out their voices in his ringing ears!

“Later.” he promised, “But I came here to ask you something, and it’s really important.”

Alya had the self control to keep her mouth shut and nod. Finally.

“A few months ago, you posted that interview with Ladybug on your blog, remember?”

Alya nodded again, enthusiasm sparking in her eyes. Before Felix could stop her, she was talking again.

“Pff, if I remember? Boy, that was like, the kickstart of my journalistic career! If our little networking Queen hadn’t managed to convince LB-“

“Alya!”, he interrupted again, his mind racing to keep up with her. Networking Queen? “I need you to listen. You’re my friend, right? Friends listen.”

Immediately, she let herself fall back next to him.

“Right! Sorry! Gettin’ a little carried away here.”

“No problem!”, Felix pressed out with the friendliest, most Adrien-like smile he could muster up. Even if he was at the brink of loosing his mind.

“Anyway. Our ‘Networking Queen’... I need you to get me a meeting with her. Today.”

Alyas eyes began to sparkle in a way that made Felix wonder of this had been a mistake.

“Oooooh, I get it.”, she all but cooed. “You want some alone time with your ‘just a friend’?”

“A date between model and fashionista?”, Rose chirped up, that same expression in her eyes.

“Chat Noir’s voice talking to our Everyday Ladybug?”, Juleka followed suit, red eyes eerily unblinking.

They could’ve texted him in ancient hieroglyphs and he would’ve understood more than the nonsense that had just left their mouths.

He was about to give up - fuck it, he’d just create an Akuma and wait for Ladybug to show up - when a shrill voice caught his attention.

“Did I just hear ‘Ladybug’?”, snickered a blonde girl walking out of a nearby boutique. “Because if you want to talk heroes, Adrie-chérie, you’ll want to talk to me!”

“Chloé”, Alya growled, but Felix wasn’t listening anymore.

Everything clicked into place.

Networking Queen? Chloé knew lots of famous people by living in an exclusive hotel.

Adrien’s ‘just a friend’? Who else could it be than his oldest companion, who was also too much of a headache to ever be considered more than a friend?

Fashionista? Well... personally, Felix would have preferred to go blind this very instant before having to look at that garish yellow jacket again, but Chloé’s mother still was the Style Queen.

And an Everyday Ladybug? He might not know how, but Chloé did have a miraculous at some point, making her a lower-tier, more ordinary hero. An everyday Ladybug, if you wanted to flatter her and insult the goddess that was Ladybug.

In other words: The contact that would get him Ladybugs attention? It was Chloé Bourgeois! Everything made sense now.

“Well, that’s my cue.”, Felix told the three furies next to him and got up. Chloé looked surprised when he actually walked over to her, but the girls? They looked flabbergasted.

“W-Wait a sec! Didn’t you want to go to Marinette’s with us?”, Rose pouted, tears forming in her ridiculously oversized eyes.

“Yeah!”, Alya complained. “Since when would you rather hang out with Chloé than grab some pastries and compliment Mari?!”

That’s it. Felix had had it with their pushy, unhelpful and downright obsessive interest in his view on some amateur-designers dress of the day! Jesus Christ, did Paris do this to people or were they just born with an endless reservoir of mindless chatter?!

“For the record,” Felix’ friendly facade began to crack as his smile turned malicious, “I do not want to visit Marinette. In fact, I do not care about this Marinette at all! And I don’t care about you, your infuriating riddles and your absolute gibberish either!”

Chloe next to him spit out the smoothie she’d been slurping and stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn’t done yet. Now that their faces varied from shock to anger to hurt, he had an idea for a back-up plan. Prime Akuma-material was prime Meeting-Ladybug material, after all.

“It has been almost half an hour until something even vaguely useful left your mouth!”, Felix happily continued his rant. “Up to then, the only thing you did was bore me to death with your tabloid of a blog, some band I now wish I’d never heard of, and the oh-so glorious color choice of a dress that isn’t even finished yet! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I have a very important and busy life! So, if you’ll excuse me?”

He straightened his jacket and turned towards Chloé’s limousine.

“I have interesting people to spend my day with.”

All four watched him get into the car, mouths agape, before a sharp “Chloé!” Let the blonde remember she was supposed to follow him.

“Uh, Yeah!”, she stammered towards the other three. “So long, you... uh... uninteresting people!”

-

“Are you alright?”, Chloé asked him for the third time since they had arrived at her room. “I mean, not to say I don’t approve of you realizing how stupid they are, but that was kind of... sudden.”

“I told you, Chloé.”, he faked patience. “I just want to spend some time with you! My best and oldest friend!”

“Oh”, she perked up. “Well, then! We didn’t hang out in ages, Adrikins!”

She threw herself into a red-cushioned armchair, sighing.

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember what we used to do all the time.”

A shrill, uncomfortable laugh escaped her, slowly dying down when she realized he wasn’t laughing along.

“So... uh, what do you want to do? We could play Ladybug and Chat Noir! I have these wicked expensive cosplays in my closet you have to see, maybe I’ll let you borrow the Chat Noir one! Sabrina usually plays him, but she’s got a cold and I definitely won’t let her contaminate it with some sort of poor people disease! So-“

“Why don’t we talk a little, for now?”, he cut her off, inspecting the numerous wardrobes in the room. Any sign that Ladybug frequented this place would be enough to raise his mood.

“About you being Queen Bee, for example! You and Ladybug must be... close.”

He turned around to her and she laughed.

“Close? We are BFFs! I mean, sure, she hasn’t given me a Miraculous in a while, but she still adores me. Everybody does, right?”

She laughed again.

“Right?”

Not bothering to answer, he rolled his eyes.

“Surely you must have a way to contact her.”, he hinted at his end goal of this conversation. “As close as you are, you must be talking all the time.”

“W-well...”, Chloé started, something unreadable in her expression, before she shook her head. “Of course! The bee signal, it’s on my balcony.”

She led him outside, proudly turning on what looked like a giant spotlight with bee motive.

“Cool, huh?”

Felix’ carefully cheerful face crumbled. This... was it? His chance at meeting Ladybug was nothing more than a glorified pocket torch on some rich girls‘ roof?!

“Cool?”, he laughed in disbelief. “Tell me, Chloé... has she ever actually answered your signal?”

The girl faltered.

“What?”

“Did Ladybug”, he hissed, anger pooling in his chest, “ever react to this thing?”

“I mean...”, she shrugged, “One or two times, I guess? But you can’t measure our friendship in how often she visited me, right? I mean, you didn’t visit a lot either!”

She laughed, but it sounded insecure now.

“Wow, that came of accusing! You know I adore you though, right, Adrikins?”

Sighing she leaned on the balcony railing.

“I bet you missed hanging out with me! It’s just that so much is changing for you right now, adjusting to school life and all, and you’re so crowded by these losers all the time. Sometimes I think you forget that we’re friends entirely, ha ha! That is, until I... until people are upset with me for some stupid reason.”

She talked on and on and on. Why was everybody talking so much today? Why did no one see how important this day was? How long he had pined for this moment to arrive, only to have it kept just out of reach.

“Hey, do you think you have time on Friday?”, Chloé finally ended her monologue. “Daddy is officially opening up our new spa area, and we’ve deserved a little break! Being popular is so exhausting.”

Felix let out a dry, bitter laugh and finally turned to his cousin’s childhood friend.

“Popular?”, he wanted to snarl, but it came out tired. “You’re not popular, Chloé. Get real.”

“Um, excuse-“

“No. I have had a thoroughly disappointing day, and I can’t stand to see more uselessness today.”

He sighed, ignoring how Chloé was backing away from him.

“Nobody likes you.”, he said matter-of-fact. “Who are you kidding? Ladybug won’t show up, and neither will anyone else. Any day. And I guess you should come to accept that, because the longer you entertain yourself with your little illusion, the more it will hurt when you realize you are hopeless.”

“Adrien, what’s gotten into you?”, she shook her head, trembling hands balled to fists. “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Yeah?”, he mocked her, desperate to let off some steam. “Why not? Is your Daddy going to throw money at me? Is your Mommy going to call me by the wrong name and pretend to fire me? Or is it just you she does that with?”

Now she actually flinched, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He can only muster up a halfhearted chuckle.

“Do me a favor, Chloé, now that you couldn’t even get Ladybug here. Go away. You bore me so, so much.”

He expected a fight - hoped for one, actually. So when she retreated, carefully, before turning and running away, he was almost disappointed. Because now he was alone on the roof, with no Akuma in sight, and the glorious Ladybug spending her day somewhere else entirely. Or maybe she was with Adrien. Maybe she had arrived the minute he had left, because that was just how lucky he was.

He sank to his knees, exhaustion pulling him down.

It had always been like this. Adrien was the lucky one, and he was just his little cousin.

Adrien, the prodigy son. The heir to a fashion empire, with parents who actually cared about where he was. The junior fencing champion, and multilingual genius, and the flawless face that was plastered all over Paris. Everybody loved Adrien, that was just how it was.

Even... Even Ladybug. For some reason his birdbrained, pampered cousin had the attention of the one person Felix wanted for himself.

No matter how unlikely, or unlogical, or unfair it was: Adrien always won, without even trying.

Meanwhile Felix schemed and planned and worked, but it never amounted to anything. Even though he was so much smarter. Even though he looked almost the same as his cousin. Even though he deserved it! God, with his luck, Adrien probably had a Miraculous too and spend all his freetime wooing Ladybug!

While he was stuck here, with children unworthy of his time, wasting his precious day in Paris.

He should have just-

“Chloé?”, a voice interrupted his laments. He looked up. That voice...

“Chloé!”, she repeated, landing skillfully next to the pool. “Are you alright? You turned on the signal, is there an Ak... A-Adrien?!”

Felix rose to his feet, staring at the apparition before him with awe. Black hair, tied into playful pigtails on the back, framed a face that “beautiful” didn’t even begin to describe. Clear blue eyes looked at him from underneath her red mask, the look in them so open and happy he felt his heart swell.

“Ladybug”, he whispered.

For once in his life, he was lucky.

- - -

Our spoiled brat is throwing a pity party, but now we‘re getting to the fun part!

[welllpthisishappening]

Mom’s Trip

The trade deadline is stressing me out. That’s it. That’s the reason for this. i have no idea how long it is or why it is or, really, what it is except using Rangers-provided content as fic inspiration. Special shoutout to @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ for both being like, “yes, make it Regina” when I was talking about this. Also, guys, please acknowledge that I turned the six on Mrs. Skjei’s jersey to a zero. 

Or: Ryan Strome’s mom told Artemi Panarin to get her kid the puck and my brain was like THAT’S A BLUE LINE THING. And then Mika’s mom wanted to hug her kid and my brain was like, SERIOUSLY, BLUE LINE. 

----

“Dad! Dad! Mom! Ma—c’mon are you actually here and just ignoring me?”

Emma glanced up from the computer in front of her, a paper-covered desk and plans for an event she was only marginally interested in. She heard the footsteps coming down the hall — more like a brisk jog, really, and that couldn’t have been good for his right thigh.

He’d blocked a shot the night before.

“Hey,” Matt said, almost out of breath when he skidded to a stop in the open doorway to Emma’s office. “Did you not hear me?”

“People across the entire island of Manhattan heard you.”

“Oh, wow. Scathing from the get, huh?”

“How’s your leg?”

Matt shrugged, a quiet noise in the back of his throat that only made Emma’s eyebrows pinch. “Ah, don’t do that, it’s—I’m fine…I mean, we won, right?”

“Sometimes it genuinely concerns me how much you are like your father.”

“Scathing to insulting in four seconds flat.”

“Were you not yelling for him too?” Emma asked, and she was ninety-six percent positive Matt hadn’t knocked. Not like he had to. In this house. The one he grew up in. With enough empty rooms now that Emma could have an office.

Matt let his head loll to the side — a far too knowing expression that Emma did not appreciate at all. She was the mom. She was the adult.

She was—

Her computer dinged.

“Whatcha watching?”

“What did you say?” Emma countered. “Don’t do that? Don’t do that.”

“We’re going in circles here,” Matt muttered, crossing his feet at the ankles. Like he was trying to hit a BINGO card of all the things that made Emma feel vaguely maternal-type emotions. Her computer wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Or she wouldn’t stop playing the video.

Whatever, semantics.

“How many times have you watched it?” Matt pressed. He took a step into the room, arms crossed now and one eyebrow arched impossibly high. “Just—you know, like ballpark it for me.”

“What are you doing here, Mattie?”

“That’s not an answer. Also, this is my house.”

“You do not live here, Matthew David.”

He stopped walking. And the other eyebrow joined the first. Maybe Emma would just slide out of her chair and lay on the floor.

That would hurt her back, probably.

Getting old was stupid.

Being jealous of Regina was stupid.

“Ballpark,” Matt repeated.

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Emma said again, slower that time like it would make her sound more responsible. Or, at least less insane. She felt a little insane.

She’d watched the video so many times already.

Elsa had sent her ten text messages about it.

Ruby had written a small novel.

Mostly exclamation points.

Matt’s lips twitched, rocking back on his heels with wide eyes and genetically enhanced eyebrows. He didn’t get anything from her eyebrows.

“Yuh huh,” he drawled. “I’m going to guess somewhere in the twenty range, but that’s only because I can still hear it on auto-play and—“

“—The Flyers website is not as good as ours,” Emma interrupted. “It just keeps looping. So my viewing numbers are probably all skewed.”

“You know you can hit pause, right?”

“In theory.”

Matt laughed, crossing the rest of the space and perching on the edge of Emma’s desk. The video started again.

And, really, most of her reaction to the stupid thing was based almost entirely on surprise.

Because it wasn’t the first time Regina had gone on the mom’s trip with the Flyers.

Emma had gone with the Rangers — decked in head to toe blue and Matt’s jersey and Regina didn’t look great in orange, but no one really looked great in orange.

It was a thing.

A hockey tradition, even.

Except now the tradition included viral videos, apparently, pinned to the top of every Philadelphia Flyers social media page — Regina standing in the middle of the visitor’s locker room in Columbus with Mills-Locksley emblazoned across her back and the Flyers lineup in her hand.

She called out every name, all enthusiasm and a smile on her face as soon as she glanced Roland’s direction.

And when she turned towards the Flyers’ starting center.

Demanding he get Roland the puck.

Emma’s eyes flickered back towards her computer. The best part of the whole video might have been Roland’s noticeably pink cheeks.

Or, the way his head dropped to his gloves.

That was Ariel’s favorite part.

So half a dozen text messages Emma hadn’t answered yet proclaimed.

“I didn’t know Gina had it in her, honestly, Matt said. “The sweet is—“

“—Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Please don’t. I need my endorsements.”

Emma wasn’t sure what noise she made at that, but she resolutely refused to take responsibility for it, reaching out to rest a hand on her kid’s leg. He grinned.

“You might have some competition for those endorsements,” Emma said. “I bet in between scoring demands and—“

“—Rol did score. The group chat was very quick to point that out while he was whining about getting interviewed because of his mom.”

“What a rough life you children lead.”

“It does get a little aggressive, though,” Matt continued, “Get him the puck! Get him the puck! She’s got a lot of thoughts about Rol’s scoring potential, don’t you think?”

“Eh. She’s got reason to be confident. Legacy and all that.”

“You honestly think she’s working endorsement deals for Flyers guys?” Matt asked. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Any moment without trying to make connections is a moment wasted as far as Regina Mills-Locklsey is concerned.”

“Oh, I’m going to tell her you said that! Then she won’t have time to be annoyed by all the gifs I keep sending Rol.”

Emma clicked her tongue. “Stop teasing him.”

“I’m not teasing, I’m mercilessly making fun. Get him the puck! Get him the puck!”

“Got to shoot to score.”

“Top-tier cliche.”

“Mmhm. That’s definitely my MO.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed, mouth twisting slightly when his hand landed on Emma’s. “Why do you keep watching it?”

“Rubes has watched it more than me.”

“That’s because she wants to analyze the hits and the long-term reach of one thirty second video clip. Is Dad even home right now?”

“No,” Emma shook her head. “Did he tell you to come here?”

“Yuh huh. Why would you think that is? Exactly.”

She couldn’t keep clicking her tongue. She was going to sprain it.

Matt practically beamed.

“Maybe I’ll challenge him to a shoot-off or something,” he mumbled. “Interfering like this. Got to put the old man back in his place.”

“You’re really throwing out insults, aren’t you?”

“He planned this.”

“What did he tell you to get you here?”

“That he had film I needed to watch. Which is just—I’m sure he’s very pleased with his lie and ploy and—“

“—Good word,” Emma grumbled.

“I also think it’s nice you think it’s nice that Gina demanded one of Rol’s teammate set him up. And, I uh—“ Matt shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at the end of his mouth. “You don’t need to go all retweet to get me to come over here, you know. Or tell me shoot. On the mom’s trip or otherwise.”

“Good to know. And your dad and I are going to talk about not-so-subtle plans later. Taking advantage of my mom-type feelings and—“

There were more footsteps.

Emma rolled her eyes, Matt’s laugh bouncing off the walls of her office and making it difficult to hear Regina’s voice coming out of the shitty computer speakers.

Killian tossed his feet at the ankles when he leaned against the open doorway.

“Hey, Matt,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Matt groaned. “You’re not funny.”

“No other people on the ice during our shootout?”

“Do you not remember how shootouts work?”

“Grounded,” Emma said at the same time Killian did. Matt’s head fell to his shoulder.

“I was already reminded I don’t live here,” he argued. “And Dad should probably get in trouble before me, anyway. Lack of tact or a good plan or—“

“—I told you I had video you needed to watch,” Killian interrupted. “Where was the lie in that?”

“You think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

“Let your mom read the lineup on the next trip.”

“Is that my call?”

“Make it your call.”

“Please don’t mention that to Ruby,” Emma grumbled. “It will consume her every thought if she even starts thinking about the impressions.”

“Good word,” Matt echoed.

She flicked his side.

His eyebrows jumped.

And Killian looked very proud of himself.

“Something to think about, at least,” he said, across the office in a few, quicks steps and Emma tilted her head up on instinct so he could press his lips to hers.

Matt sighed. “Awesome, awesome, awesome. Is there food here?”

“You and your brother have got to learn how to feed yourself,” Emma muttered, but she was already standing up and Matt was already jogging back down the hallway and there was far too much food in the kitchen.

And she never did get around to telling Killian where he could stick his plans or his interference, clicking off the Flyers’ website eventually because there was a trip to get ready for three weeks later.

They didn’t reach viral status — a fact Ruby would probably never let Emma live down — because she didn’t actually read the starters, but she did—

“Matt,” another mom grinned after finishing the lineup. “Your mom wants to give you a hug.”

He laughed.

The locker room laughed.

Emma…kind of ran.

The arms that wrapped around her were a little tighter than she expected, but that only made the space around her heart clench a little bit, her chin hooking over Matt’s shoulder pads when he kissed her on the cheek.

“Try and score, huh?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He did. Twice.

Which Emma made sure to mention in the slightly more adult, if even less mature group chat. Several times. Possibly a dozen times.

That night.

[theshinobiway]

can i get a Neji imagine with him being jealous of the reader being so close to Sauske (as friends) btw love your blog💗💗

Good Golly Gee this took longer than I expected. First I had difficulty coming up with a setting and the plot for this scenario, so I ended up throwing darts at a board (metaphorically) and decided to roll with it. Thus, The setting is post-war Konoha around the time of “The Last.” Sasuke is back in Konoha (and had a decent redemption!) and Neji is alive, though he was heavily injured.

This is one of my rare times where I wrote it with a female reader simply because (most of my readers tend to be female or fempronoun-identifying) and the prose flowed much better with a specific pronoun. “They/Them” is sometimes difficult to portray as an intimately personal address. Can English just get a Gender-Neutral pronoun already? I’m open to creating other versions of this story with different pronouns if requested, just send me an ask!

That also being said, I have the mappings for a Part II to this scenario that I would be open to writing at a later date (I need a break from this one, lol.) If there’s interest, let me know!

Thanks as always for contributing to the blog! :)💚💚

Neji Hyuga — Untouchable Stars

“He just doesn’t get it!”

You slammed your drink down, the telltale blush of your night’s exploits covering your face as your best friend barely restrained a groan from his seat.

“He may not, but for the hundredth time the Hyuga’s too much of a coward to make the first move. You need to be more direct. Just ask him out, already.” 

Sasuke shot you the side-eye from his seat as he coolly sipped his own drink, watching you down your third.

“And what if you’re wrong and he doesn’t like me?!”

“What’s not to like?” Your longtime friend gave you a small smirk.

Were it not for his current—secret—relationship with a certain pink-haired friend of yours, it might almost have been flirtatious. But, both she and you knew where his eyes were, and both of you could read him well enough to know loud and clear what every gesture of his really meant.

If only you could read the Hyuga just as easily.

“Oh? Go on…” You intentionally drew out your words, less from drunken slur and more from your disbelief that this was headed anywhere that didn’t end in an insult.

“Well, you’re great at a lot of things.” Sasuke shrugged his comment off, but it did much to lighten your mood.

“Really? Like what?!” You threw your glass down, now more than halfway convinced he was being serious.

Sasuke gave you his characteristic smirk for reassurance—the closest you could ever get to a real smile—and you were elated.

Until he opened his tactless Uchiha flapper.

He held up his hand to count. “For instance, confessing your sorrows to everyone in the vicinity, drowning in self-pity, drinking away your feelings…and making sure everyone in this bar and the few surrounding know that you have the biggest crush on N-“

          Sasuke liked to think himself one of the most accomplished shinobi in the village.

          But Sasuke was not more accomplished than a drunk, flustered you that currently had an arm wrapped around his neck before he could speak.

He tapped out within seconds, wheezing.

“What in the world—ugh—are we still children?!” He sputtered, rubbing his throat and reaching for his drink before deciding better. The burn of the alcohol wouldn’t help right now.

“Oh, sure! In that case, should I go around spouting off about your secret relationship?!” You fired back, punctuating your answer with an aggressive slurp of your drink and a boorish stare.

Sasuke hadn’t been public in the slightest about his relationship with his pink-haired teammate, though being his closest friend, you were privy to much that others weren’t. Sakura herself had respected his wishes to keep most of their relationship private. Naruto on the other hand…well, if there was anyone it would come from…

“You wouldn’t have the gall.” He grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Because I’m a good friend!” You sneered, downing the rest and raising your glass. “Another!”

“Seriously, are you going for a Mountain Round tonight?”

It was a common drinking game in Konoha. One shot for every Hokage, and every Hokage had an accompanying drinking song. Most tried to get through all of them on their twentieth birthday to celebrate their coming of age. If you didn’t stop soon, you’d be making cheers to your fifth—and passing out in the street like the fifth.

“I’m going for a number of shots that make me forget his name tonight!” You swung down your drink, letting the burn roll over your tongue. No matter how bitter it was, it couldn’t match you yet. “Let me know when I’ve stopped talking about him.”

“Done, and you’re done.” Sasuke took the finished glass out of your hand and set it on the bar, sweeping you away from the counter.

“Hey! I’m still walking!” You tugged at his arm, but you were out the door of the bar before you could make a scene. “I’m not sloppy—"

“That’s not the goal of a nightly outing, now time to get you home.” Sasuke grumbled, cursing the very man that put you in this state.

The situation had been the same since you were kids—you were head over heels, a certain someone was none the wiser, and Sasuke was left hearing all about it—but the only difference was that the complaining could now be, ahem, augmented by alcohol.

But Sasuke, being the great friend he was, managed to get you out of the bar and on the steady path to home and a restful sleep despite your struggling. On a separate note, you vaguely recalled that you were meeting someone else tonight, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember who it was while you were being dragged from the bar whilst on the receiving end of a lengthy lecture from your Uchiha friend about your ‘limits.’

Sasuke liked to think himself the wisest of the two of you.

In any case, you weren’t exactly a fan of being manhandled—drunk or sober—so you decided to concoct the best plan you could to get out of his deathgrip on your arm.”

“Hey! What’s that?!”

”What?”

Sasuke was not more clever than a drunk, troublesome you.

No sooner had he fallen for the childish trick (which he would say later was the result of his own inebriation and not because you were actually clever,) you shot out of his reach and made a dash…straight down the steps of the bar.

“Ack—!”

And then, right when it seemed you would meet the ground first, a sudden familiar shout of your name brought you back.

“(Y/N!)”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just then, seconds before you bit the dust, and the whirlwind of movement brought your latent nausea to a not-so scenic ending, you were whipped back up to your feet and the merry-go-round of lights were kept steady enough for you to send an insult hurling back at—

“N-Neji?!”

“You’re…drunk?”

          There was nothing more sobering than the realization that you might have made a fool of yourself in front of him.

‘Of all the times for him to find me—now, really?!’

You were held up by two strong arms and the last remaining shred of your dignity, but the look on the aghast Hyuga’s face told you he was waiting on an answer. In your best hazy stupor, you put your best foot forward and managed a perfectly elegant, coherent:

“I don’t know.”

Neji tilted his head, thoroughly taken aback—first by your sudden appearance in his arms, and now an answer that he had expected just as much. Realizing he might have been staring, he suddenly averted his gaze until Neji’s eyes flickered to Sasuke, who stood close behind. They narrowed immediately.

Neji’s arms held you in a firm grip, letting you a chance fully regain composure. Or what you could, with your arms interlocked with his and a small voice screaming in the back of your head.

Whatever chance you had of dignity was shot all to hell the minute you realized he was close enough that you could catch the characteristic scent of the Hyuga compound—aged wood. Without realizing it, you were unconsciously leaning forward into it. Luckily, Neji hadn’t noticed, too intent on staring down your would-be caretaker.

You couldn’t see Sasuke’s expression—you were far too absorbed in Neji, who hadn’t released his grip of you though had regained your balance—but with your extensive knowledge of the Uchiha, whatever he likely did was taunt the Hyuga with a look. Sasuke had a wonderful talent for ticking people off, and Neji was no exception—in fact, he took absolute pleasure in it sever since their first meeting.

Neji spoke first, clearing his throat and putting his practiced composure forward.

“Need I ask why (y/n) is currently in this state?”

Why was he always so irresistible when he looked so stern? You were practically drooling over him—but for some reason, the normally observant Hyuga kept his gaze ahead.

“Huh. Because she…can’t hold her liquor?” Sasuke scoffed back at the Hyuga. “I didn’t realize I was her keeper.”

Holding an inebriated you upright and staring into the face of a man that didn’t seem to take it seriously, Neji was less than amused at the snarky reply.

“And you let her get like this, or did you intend for this happen?”

“She can make her own decisions, as any other adult, Father.” Sasuke curled his lip back at him.

Neji took the bait. Sasuke’s cheeky grin was perfectly misconstrued—as Sasuke surely expected, and Neji’s grip on you unconsciously tightened as his eyes narrowed to slits.

“And just where are you going this late in the evening?” Neji snapped back.

Sasuke had always suspected another side to your ‘unrequited’ love for a while, but it wasn’t always clear. This, however, was an ample opportunity to test his theory.

The results spoke for themselves.

And while he was tactful enough to save your face in front of the object of your affections, playing coy to rile up a potential suitor was all part of his assessment of the Hyuga. Neji might have been a little too commanding in response for Sasuke’s taste, but Sasuke was also too much of a smart aleck to make things simple—no, if Neji was even remotely responsive to his insinuations, Sasuke was going to be just as curt and press him on.

All with the same smirk plastered on his face.

It was difficult to keep track of the conversation when you were in Neji’s arms. All the flush in your face couldn’t have been caused by alcohol—not at this point. In your daze, you caught a brief wind of Sasuke’s snide reply.

“I thought we settled this when we were kids, Hyuga…” Sasuke leaned forward, truth of the situation be damned if it meant he could have a chance to get under the Hyuga’s skin.

”I don’t answer to you.”

Sasuke knew of your affections and clearly could tell he has projected an image of the situation onto the Byakugan-user that was not so accurate—but at this point, perhaps this is what the Hyuga needed to make a move.

“Your arrogance becomes you, Uchiha.” Neji then shot back a taunting look of his own. “The only reliable quality about you, as it were.”

Relinquishing his grip, Neji managed to put you fully upright, facing Sasuke head-on. “A wonder you’re still friends with this one.”

“Neji, He’s just—" you were cut off almost immediately.

“Really? We’re still very close though, we’ve been friends for…how many years now, (y/n)?”

You stumbled over a reply, turning your head just enough to shoot Sasuke a look that screamed murder if he continued.

“A wonderful display of your friendship, tossing friends from balconies. You care to express your friendship elsewhere, perhaps with your pink-haired admirer? Perhaps if she heard of your recklessness, you might find yourself airborne instead.”

Neji clearly had no idea they were dating. Not that he really spent extended time around either of them to tell.

“Oh, and what would you know of her competence? Were you looking for an introduction?” Sasuke tilted his head, jeering at the man barely holding himself back. “Unfortunately, she’s—”

“Sasuke-kun!”

The heavens bequeathed a blessing to this gradually deteriorating situation in the form of Sakura, who was now hurrying her way up the street.

You forgot she had been invited to join you after her shift at the clinic.

“Sakura.” Sasuke smiled, a rarity from him. You were still startled by it now and then, which is why it caught your attention.

And Neji saw where yours went.

“Sorry I’m late, the patient needed extra bloodwork done—Oh!” Sakura noticed you and Neji, standing close together, and evidence of the Hyuga’s agitation was still clearing. It took all of a few seconds for Sakura to surmise what might have transpired moments before.

Perhaps in the future, Sakura’s social finesse could rub off on Sasuke.

“I’ll be taking him out of your way before he causes more trouble.” She nodded towards Neji, who looked ever so slightly more agitated than normal. You put your hands up defensively, trying to remember how words were formed as you battled the fog clouding your mind.

“Oh don’t worry about it, he’s been—”

“Oh, your face is so flushed!” She placed a small hand on your cheek and gave you a wink, grabbing Sasuke’s hand with her other, then glancing back at the Hyuga. “Neji, get her home safe, would you?”

Before the Uchiha could protest about her grip, he resolved already to let himself be carried off, letting you helplessly watch as they left. Sasuke gave one lest telltale shrug as they got further away, communicating all you needed to know.

‘Hey, I tried to help. Good luck.’

You flickered your gaze at Neji’s figure before looking away once again.

‘What the hell am I supposed to do right now?!’

Drunk you didn’t sign up for this. Sober you wasn’t too far behind.

And yet, the only answer you got was the accelerated beat that drummed through your ribcage as Neji stood close.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

‘Not only did he have the audacity to let her stumble around in this state, but it’s almost as if he was toying with the idea of bringing her home. Was the full attention of one of the more renowned kunoichi in the leaf not enough?’

He knew why the Uchiha might find interest in her. What he didn’t understand in all of his genius was the hold that Sasuke seemed to have over other women, even given his reputation.

‘The way that she gazed at him when he smiled at Sakura…’

He felt a familiar, painful curl in his chest when he saw it. That wasn’t where he wanted to see that kind of look directed. When he clearly saw the situation unfold with the Uchiha and the medic-nin in front of her, he felt the deepest empathy.

‘Unrequited.’

He clenched his fist. ‘She doesn’t deserve someone like that. She deserves far better than you.’

Sakura caressed her face, apologetically. ‘At least she can be courteous about it,’ he grumbled in his thoughts, knowing that all the kindness in the world couldn’t help.

When Sasuke gave an uncaring shrug in her direction, he was ready to snap the other arm off.

‘You have everything in front of you, and this is how you act?’  Neji watched your helpless expression as they walked off, and another pang of ache went through his chest until he gave one last glance to the offender’s retreating form.

‘How dare you.’

The sheer frustration of it all was enough for him to feel his blood pressure rise.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The last of your efforts went into staying as sober as possible, hoping his wouldn’t be a night to remember for all the wrong reasons.

“Are you well enough, like this?” Neji’s voice cut you out of your trance.

“O-Oh, yes, I’m fine.” You shook your head frivolously to be more convincing.

Bad idea, because it only made you dizzier.

“I’m sure you aren’t unfamiliar with this condition.” Neji hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but the line between straightforward and blunt was not so easily tread.

“H-Hey I’m not that kind of person! I just lost track of how many I had is all, but I don’t make a habit of it!”

Neji gave you a disinterested blink before he sighed, hands placed firmly on his hips.

“Relax, (Y/N). I’m well aware that you aren’t the kind to overindulge. I’m sure it was an accident. Regardless of how it happened, though, you ought to be escorted home.”

Neji paused, as though he thought better of the situation than before.

“Should I find you another…friend for that?” He gestured to the surrounding streets. It wasn’t necessarily dismissive, but it still had a bite to it.

That bite wasn’t meant for you, but himself.

You furiously shook your head. Drunk confidence egged you on, hoping you could somehow finesse the situation. You were determined to salvage as much of your reputation as the alcohol would allow.

“I can get home, y’know, if it’s alright with you…”

“Not a wise choice.”

You sounded confident in the moment, but Neji wasn’t convinced. And surely after walking a few blocks in one direction, future you would be agreeing with him. Which is why his immediate dismissal of the idea wasn’t surprising.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Well wisdom could say you’re the…best choice, then?” You ended tentatively, but Neji’s brows lifted and the corner of his mouth twitched.

What had sounded vaguely like drunken rambling to you had actually…charmed him?

“Flattering.” He replied, flatly, though some amusement drifted across his face.

It wasn’t a clear acceptance, so you were ready to retreat until he turned his body and waved for you to follow.

“I haven’t forgotten the way, luckily for you. Let’s get going.”

You didn’t hesitate then.

  A few moments of walking in silence passed before he looked over his shoulder to catch you timidly following, bunched up and holding your arms, last bastion of humanity devoted to keeping your body mobile.

“Are you.. cold…?” One of Neji’s hands drew to the string of his Haori without a second thought.

“Oh, I’m just still a little…” Embarrassment filtered from every hand gesture to the way you avoided his gaze. You started the night intending to forget about him. And now, here he was, walking you home.

Couldn’t he have found you three drinks sooner?

       A sudden warmth around your shoulders snatched your attention from your pouting. Neji’s haori hung over you, still warm from his wear. Your face would have flushed further if the alcohol weren’t already occupying your face. The self-conscious posture tipped him off to your internal self-lecture.

“I already gave you my thoughts.” He reassured you for the third time that night, then, satisfied that you were warm, he took a moment to glance at how the fabric, meant to hang loose even on him, swallowed your frame.

The corners of his eyes crinkled for a moment before he turned to continue on.

“Still, the last thing I want is for you to think badly of me…” Were you whining? A bit, but more than anyone, Neji understood the importance of a good image. Therefore, he had no issue with a bit of sympathy slipping into his tone.

“One accident is hardly a threat to your reputation.”

“It wasn’t really an accident, though.” You twirled the hair at the base of your neck, wobbling to the side and out of the busy street.

Neji arched a defined brow in response and paused in long silence.

“Then what called for the occasion?”

You weren’t sure if the question was meant to fill the emptiness of the silent street, or to perhaps silence the overflowing thoughts of a quiet mind.

“Oh well, you know…” You blinked bashfully, looking away as a light dusting of pink—that didn’t originate from your inebriated state—decided to make its way to your face. “…just…thinking about the chances I don’t have with someone I really admire.”

There was something to be said for drunk honesty.

Unfortunately for Neji, not everything was said. Which meant there was always room for interpretation.

Or in his case, a severe misinterpretation.

“I see.” He clicked his tongue, averting his eyes forward as he let go of your shoulder. “Unfortunate.”

“You have no idea.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you wondered if he could read the subtext.

Gods, he can read everything from a faint twirl of the hair to the way you blink, can’t he just read your mind?

‘On second thought,’ —the realization struck when his gaze suddenly grew cold—‘perhaps it was best he couldn’t.’ One thought of that glare revealing itself unto you when you confessed was enough to make you retreat from your advances—even drunk you wasn’t that foolish.

Rather, drunk you was just sensitive enough to think better of a drunken confession that may have ended in a sobering heartbreak.

“I’m not so sure…” Neji didn’t mean to respond outloud, but all the better that you hadn’t heard him, too focused on the now beating heart that was going wild in your chest at the thought of him walking you home.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Walking on the street was enough to set his heart alight. And, when the adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he was consciously aware that you might be more honest than normal, he couldn’t help but ask a more pressing question.

“Perhaps you would have preferred the Uchiha to walk you home?” He didn’t mean to be so curt, but the events from earlier put him his own self-depreciating mood. And he also feared a certain response.

“What? Absolutely not!” He half-heartedly glanced at your sudden outburst. Of course, you wouldn’t be brazenly open about your crush, but—

‘Hold on—where are the signs of denial?’

You weren’t kidding when you seemed to imply you were glad to be rid of him.

“I get enough time with him as it is—” Neji’s eye twitched.

‘I’d rather not be reminded of that.’

“—And I’d rather him spend his time with Sakura than worry about me.” There was a tinge of melancholy to your voice. To you, you were envious of how close they had become, wishing that for yourself.

To Neji, he heard that you wanted that closeness with him for yourself and let a pitiful smile, his split-second question subsided.

“How selfless of you.” He sighed. ‘I couldn’t even entertain a thought such as that, unfortunately.’

“Not really, I was lucky enough to spend time with you instead. It’s been so long…” You wobbled without meaning to, catching yourself on his arm as one step was simply too much for your body to keep up.

While you took a second to register, Neji’s attention was all on you at once and his arm stiffened of its own volition. Then, his face bled concern. Without meaning to, his hand covered yours, making sure you kept your grip.

“Sorry, I—Oh! They’re open early this year!” There were few things that could get you as excited as one certain treat. The colorful sign of the food stall flickered in the distance over the crowd, just barely legible in your blurry vision. He followed your attention in a second.

Neji let a small groan of frustration, knowing all too well your addiction to a certain stand’s seasonal delights.

“Home, (Y/N)—”

“Come on!” Neji’s insistence was futile the minute you snagged his hand. How could he protest an opportunity like this? He didn’t expect tipsy-you’s strength, either, judging by how easy it was to pull—ahem, drag him with you.

          Could a heartbeat be felt in fingertips? With the way it resounded in his chest when you grabbed his hand, Neji might have thought so.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“There, are you quite ready to go home now?”

“How are you so-ooo grumpy when you have the best thing in the world in your hand?!” You munched happily, letting the taste cover your parched mouth, washing away the lingering staleness of the alcohol from earlier.

“I had that earlier.” He grumbled, just out of earshot. He hadn’t intended to, but it was clear when he was agitated. You vaguely registered his speech, but you had other occupations—like the snack in front of you.

“Oh, what?”

“I said at least the food might sober you up.” Neji shook his head to snap out of his own thoughts and bit into his serving, rather unimpressed with the fare. But given that he was able to share it with you, he found ways to enjoy it.

The alcoholic haze that blurred your vision before gave the world a surreal, almost painted expression. Scenes that would not have fascinated you before were prime entertainment for the intoxicated. Lights danced around the street, peeking out from the silhouettes of the passers-by as they went about their ways, unconcerned for the magical visions that surrounded them. And Kami, and the smell of the food stands was enough to make you hungry for seconds.

When you found your way along the scene to the image of Neji beside you, serenely enjoying the evening bustle through the streets, you couldn’t help but reflexively swallow.

Was the taste always this sweet?

“Did I get some on my face?” In the moment it had taken you to consider why your snack was more delightful than usual, Neji had caught your rather obvious stare.

And you had been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Cue a drunken panic.

‘Quick, something clever, something bold that you can maybe play off as a casual—’

“Ah, yeah, the uh…the cute! It’s all over your face!” You intended to wave your hand over your cheek for emphasis, but drunken limbs don’t like to listen—

They like to make you forcefully smack yourself in the face instead. Hard.

Nailed it.

Neji gave you a dead silent stare. Bewildered.

“I…what?”

Neji had just seen you stutter out an odd mix between a pickup line and a sincere answer, then whack yourself in the face. He was honestly doing his best to process the scene. His head tilted.

A stroke? Were you having a stroke?

“Oh, boy! Time for me to get home!” You shot up, tossing the remaining part of your container in the bin and were perfectly fine to hurry off to cover up your reddened face.

Your home wasn’t far from where you were, but Neji made sure to keep close eye on you—especially after that display. Somewhere in your racing thoughts you lambasted yourself for walking so fast, giving up precious moments that you never got with the object of your affections.

“It’s a bit darker down this way than I remember.” Neji called from close behind as your rounded into your secluded neighborhood. It was one of the few that managed to not be fully developed, and houses still stood a decent bit apart.

“There aren’t many lamps around here, so most of the light used to come from the sky…” You mused. It was an older part of the city, for sure, and you brushed your hand knowingly over where the railing to your steps would be.

But the tragedy was that the light pollution took away another relic of a bygone time.

“I always remember the stars being, well, brighter!” You sighed, turning back from the porch to ponder in thought as Neji made his way next to you, sure to catch you if you stumbled over the steps. “It’s hard to see some of them now, though, with how big the town’s grown. Even on the Hokage mountain now, the lights of the city tend to block out the sky…” Leaning back over the porch railing, you shot him a half-hearted glance. “Do you remember the time we watched the stars as kids?”

“Mmm…There were a few times, as I recall.” He sounded vaguely bemused but gestured at you to come away from the railing. Not a bad idea in your state.

You perked up immediately. So, it wasn’t just you that remembered.

“And how it all kinda began just…by chance?” Your legs moved automatically for you, responding to his beckon while the last remaining braincell attempted a coherent conversation.

          The nights spent with Neji, legs thrown over the side of the mountain as you spoke about life, dreams, and all that stood between were the perfect picture of your teenage years. You had taken a walk that summer evening after your teammates had gone home and found yourself in the northern grounds above the Hokage mountain.

There wasn’t much development on Hokage mountain back then, save for the arena that the final rounds of the Chunin exams were always held in, along with some miscellaneous work buildings. Past the arena, the mountaintop still remained wild as ever. It wasn’t a prime spot for foot traffic, despite the view.

Of all the places for Neji to find you, the cliffside overlooking the village was a peculiar spot in the nighttime. Not the place one would expect a familiar face, but then it happened, and so it was. You thought the only reason it ever happened was by sheer possibility.

“Until it wasn’t.”

You glanced curiously at him, wondering what he meant. As kids, there were a few occasions he had asked if you would be making your way there that night, and if his presence would be welcome to join.

It fell off in routine soon after he was promoted in rank and his duties more than doubled. Then you assumed it was just meant to be the past, that he had other things to occupy his time. You may have grown apart some in those years, but you always wondered what he remembered about those nights.

“I mean…our conversations were…productive.” Neji cleared his throat into his fist. “It was a nice change of routine.”

‘Productive? Routine? Who else would describe childhood memories like that but him?’ You nudged his side with a small grin dancing on your face, startling him. Of course, he drew himself back into his stoic shell when he realized you were teasing him.

“You could just say you liked spending time with me then.” Leaning over, you shifted once more to place you both back within the same distance.

Neji’s straight face refused to betray him, though by what might have been a trick of the light, you thought you saw his face flash a bit of color.

“I wouldn’t be that blunt.”

“Then say it pretty.” You knew you were obviously giving him eyes right now, but a flustered Neji was too much to pass up on. He saw it, but doesn’t mean that he believed it was too serious.

“You need to get rest if you’re speaking like this.” Neji ushered you back inside with a grunt, waving you inside before you could embarrass him further.

“Say it…!” You pressed on, perhaps being a little too cute for your own good.

Neji knew he wasn’t about to get out of this one. He swallowed, looking for every conceivable method of escape before resigning himself.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to another visit sometime…for old time’s sake.” If you weren’t drunk, you might have picked up on the tinge of hesitation in his otherwise self-assured and carefully worded response. Hesitation—not reluctance.

Your eyes lit up immediately at the invitation.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

You intended to give him an impulsive hug, but your inebriated body’s translation of the thought was closer to a full body slam.

Thus, Neji forgot how to breathe—and your grip wasn’t very tight.  

“Oh, ow—is it really that…exciting?” He managed to free the arm that had been wedged between you and the porch and placed both of his hands prudently upon on your shoulders.

He wasn’t sure if he was meant to ask a question in that moment, because it brought your face up close to his.

Much closer than it had ever been.

For the second time that night, you found your way into his arms, pressed against his chest in your inebriated haze. He was so warm against the cool night air, and you got lost, looking on his expression for every hint of his thoughts right then. There was too much to be said, but you didn’t want to come back, lost so far in the moment as you were.

Dreams weren’t ever as good as this.

Long, dark strands of hair fell around his face, tickling yours as he held onto you, making you forget he had even asked a question. Because right now all you could think about was that…

“You’ve always had the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen..” You couldn’t help the smile that you meant for him.

Those beautiful eyes in question widened in shock at your words, and his world silenced when you did.

Save for the heartbeat—was it his or yours?—that reached his ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The deafening pulse of blood in his ears was all Neji could hear. With his eyes locked on your lips, the uncomfortable realization that his body was not within his control for some strange reason took over his rational thought.

Then again, he also wouldn’t admit to himself that it was due at least in part to his proximity of the source of those honeyed words, either.

The playful glint dwelled still in your gaze, then in the corners of your smile until it dropped, as quick as a light could be put out with a flip of a switch. One he struck down with his pesky self-denying habits before he remembered how foolish it was to wander in the dark.

“You’re intoxicated.” He swallowed and finally spoke bluntly, setting you upright.

When your hands didn’t displace themselves from their grip on his shirt, he grimly reached for them. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for what he knew was truly not meant for him.

But in that moment, the first murmur of doubt crossed his mind.

It whispered in his ear when his hands reached yours—they were so small compared to his—and passed over in the soft light in your eyes. One that didn’t come from the street lamps, the mirroring of the shop windows, or even from the moonlight.

It was his reflection, and he never thought he could be so bright—until he saw himself through your eyes.

Dreams really weren’t as good as this.

Neji’s voice lowered to a whisper, somewhere between talking to himself and to you.

“What are you thinking right now?”

It was pretty simple, actually. It was the same thought, every time you saw him cast against the night sky the times you met then, and even now. You let the years finally come and speak their due.

“I always thought you alone were brighter than any of the stars.”

It wasn’t often Neji was without retort—and even if he happened to not respond, it was on his terms. Those offending lips rendered him speechless, and he lowered his head as if closer inspection would reveal just how.

And when they rose to the occasion, he fidgeted once, twice, wondering if this really wasn’t a dream, if those few centimeters were really all that were left between you, and if he really was leaning down to close that distance.

In a dream could he feel the warmth, the weight of you in his arms, or the way in which you drew to him? Could he see everything he wanted so clearly in this one glance, as though the stars had dropped from the very heavens to light the eyes that gazed at him with this adoration? If in a moment, the night air wouldn’t disappear at once with the smell of the dried grass, the fallen leaves, and the smell of sake—

Sake.

“You’re drunk.” Neji whispered hoarsely, drawing back at once and shifting so that your head was closer to his shoulder. He hadn’t wanted you to see the expression on his face right then.

You panicked, heart racing at the tide of events that shifted within seconds.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You buried your face in his shoulder, too embarrassed that what was nearly a romantic moment had ended this way. It wasn’t clear how he had meant what he said, after you had clearly—in your mind, clearly—been trying to kiss him.

‘You’re drunk, and you’re acting foolish’?  That seemed far more like him than any alternative.

“Sorry…” You murmured, barely audible with your face in his chest.

Still, he held you for few precious moments, perhaps letting this embrace be his only selfish action for the night.

“You need rest.” Still, he didn’t move quite yet. You didn’t, either.

“I know…” Reluctantly, you drew away from him, avoiding his gaze. Neji shifted his weight, politely opening the door to your home for you and ushering you inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What?” You blinked, your head still spinning from earlier.

“The…stars…?” Oh. Obviously! Still, Neji looked genuinely concerned. You immediately moved to compensate for your memory.

“O-oh, I thought you meant earlier as in…” You waved off furiously, trying to remember how to speak. Neji thought he had missed some unspoken courtesy and just as hurriedly racked his brain to figure out where he had faltered in his propriety.

“I could check on you in the morning, if it be necessary?”

He wouldn’t tell you that any hour could be yours, if you only just asked.

But you would have been too modest, anyway.

“If you aren’t too busy, I think…well, you’ll probably be busy, you have so many important things and—” You rambled on, not sure where the aim of it was, fidgeting with your hands. “—I don’t want to ask you to—“

You stilled only when Neji caught your hand, bringing it to his face.

He pressed his lips to your knuckles, turning his eyes to meet yours. You flushed, feeling his breath still ghosting on your hand. He might have said every word you ever wanted to hear just then in the way he looked at you.

“Tomorrow. Goodnight, (y/n).”

And when he left, you sank down to your bed, hand on your chest, your heart playing those words, unspoken, but felt in your chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

[thepulta]

A/N: Update: Am still garbage so I wrote this backstory thing so my children could yell at each other. Extremely fluffy. Diabetus tag. Additional unnecessary cursing tag because Morgan literally was raised in a bar.

-=-

Westlie turned on the light to see a Morgan-shaped lump already in her bed. She sighed. “Hey.”

No response.

Westlie was too tired to care. Her feet felt like lead bricks. She kicked off her boots and sank into the seat at the vanity, closing her eyes as she undid her hair with quick, practiced movements. Her vest got tossed aside and she eventually pulled over her nightgown, straightening it with a quick slap. The light from the window filtered through the room, a soft irridescent orange-red, as she picked up her miscellaneous things; it had been a soot-filled day. When she was done Westlie shut the curtains tight, finally moving to her side of the bed with the suspicious lump under it.

The fuck am I going to do with you, Morgan? Westlie stood there for a minute, contemplating being nice or being a total ass and pulling her onto the floor. She settled for being a sisterly ass and flicking her finger twice on Morgan’s cheek. There was an angry growl and a shift under the covers; Morgan flipped her off. Mission accomplished.

“Move over. You’re not four anymore.”

She listened the first time, surprisingly. Westlie groaned as she finally laid down and her feet stopped screaming, faxing herself into the disappointingly warm sheets. The house was pleasantly silent now. Some crickets somewhere; the occasional creak of it settling. Westlie sighed and melted into the bed before realizing, almost half-way to sleep, she probably should do her sisterly duty. “Any reason you’re in my bed?”

No response. Morgan was out again.

Westlie kicked her. “Morgan.”

“…stars you’re such an ass.”

“It’s my bed. You have a perfectly good one two doors down.”

“’m haven’t seen you in a week. Thought I’d say hi.”

That was… surprisingly sweet. “Thanks. …It’s been busy at the shop.”

“I know, I know. It’s always busy.” Morgan rolled over to face her with a hint of grumpiness, eyes still shut as she re-huddled under the blankets. “What was it this time?”

Westlie puffed out a breath. “Blemmigans today. 150 of them.”

Morgan opened one eye. “That’s kind of cute.”

“Not when they escape and bite your customers so you have to chase said customer down the street, free them from the clutches of the traumatized blemmigan and apologize.”

Morgan snort-chuckled, closing her eyes again. “Let me guess; this customer was not at all grateful for the rescue.”

“Could not be less grateful. They actually wacked me with their parasol.” Westlie rubbed her middle, testing the ache. It wasn’t bruising yet but it would. It definitely would.

She got both eyes open at that. “They actually hit you?”

“Mmhm.”

“What a cunt.”

Had it really been a week since they’d talked? Westlie could never keep track of time. The days blurred into each other, especially around the end of the month when half her nights were spent in paperwork and the other half was grabbing sleep before fixing whatever the rest of the staff had managed to fuck up within a 12 hour period. She felt vaguely guilty. “What have you been up to?”

“No no, I want to hear more about this bitch with a parasol. Why was she there in the first place?”

Westlie had tried to erase that whole incident from her mind. There had been multiple people on the street staring. It was one of those things you woke up from the memory in a cold sweat twenty years later. “Mm…. candles and squid ink…? And calico? Something like that. Stupid shit. We don’t even have calico.”

“Was she just tall and looking for a fight? That’s so stupid. Paint me a picture of her.”

Westlie groaned. “I don’t really-”

Morgan rolled onto her elbows. “Let me guess, she had brown hair, an evil bitch face, and multiple warts.”

“Brown hair, no warts, some bitch face, yes.”

“Mm, she looked pretty but squeals like a girl when the blemmigan got her.” Westlie tried to hide a smile but Morgan caught it. “… You definitely laughed when it bit her.”

“I did not! I was very concerned for my customer!”

Morgan laughed, flopping on her back in the bed, grinning. “You did!”

Westlie broke and laughed too. “Oh she was such a bitch. I hate her. I think she said her name was… Vennedti? Something like that. She kept throwing it around. ‘How dare you insult the Vennedti name!’ ‘My father will speak to your employer about this!’ ‘A Vennedti treated in this manner!’ Oh she was so dumb.” Westlie burrowed into the blankets and smiled at her sister. Morgan smiled back. “Now what about you?”

“Oh, everyone at our bar is fine. Do you remember that rich asshole Fennigan?”

Westlie tried to remember; there was a vision of handlebar mustache and stovepipe hat, but little else. “… Two whiskeys, one gin and tonic…?”

“Close. Two whiskeys, one cider.” Morgan flopped on her back. “I finally got him banned after he insulted Three-Ciders-Two-Rum’s aunt. I suppose there’s a dramatic scandal somewhere because they - Fennigan and the aunt - were definitely going out, but the aunt rebuffed him after she found a Tackety to run away with. Just up and left! No notes. She was an old maid too; like thirty or so. But anyway.” Morgan flopped on her elbows again. “Fennigan walks in upset; nobody in the bar gives a shit because we’re not nosy assholes. He gets his whiskey and starts whining to John - you know, the barkeep.”

“Right.”

“Like, two hours of this, he’s super drunk; wants to play cards, so he goes into the corner and I’m playing with Three-Ciders-Two-Rum in the corner. Was it whist? No, I think it was loo or something; not important.” She waved the details away. “Fennigan is a little bitch and whines for us to cut him in. He dumped like idk, 50 sovereigns on the table, and obviously he’s drunk as fuck. In the beginning he was holding his cards right but eventually we could just see what he had.”

Westlie smiled a little as Morgan grew more animated, leaning on her side to listen.

“Four rounds in we’re both 25 sovereigns richer and he’s livid. Just tossing in the pot hoping for a full on win. Then I got the bad hand. His cards were basically on the table at that point because he’d had like five drinks too many; only it was better than mine, so I told Three-Ciders-Two-Rum to slip me his queen and a jack since he won the last two rounds, and Fennigan lost his mind. Apparently I look like that skanky aunt to a drunk man. I’ve never liked him anyway, so I told him to fuck off and that she left because his top hat was obviously compensating for such a tiny dick.”

Morgan paused for Westlie’s appreciative snort of laughter.

“Fennigan overturned the table and tried to deck me. Three-Ciders-Two-Rum only needed a little prodding for him to defend his aunt’s honor, and then fifteen minutes later Fennigan was out a top hat and 50 sovereigns, bruised and on the street. I cited the damages and got John to ban him.” Morgan dramatically illustrated a headline in the air. “Local Stovepipe Loses Bride and Loses Pride.” She flopped back on the mattress. “That was a great Thursday. Oh I got all 50 of those sovereigns, by the way. They’re in your drawer.”

Westlie had stopped questioning Morgan’s reasoning 6 years ago so the fact they were in her drawer not Morgan’s was more surprising than their existence. “I thought you said Three-Ciders-Two-Rum won half the rounds.”

“Eh, I made sure he broke even. He was too busy slugging; it’s his fault.”

“I feel like I need to lecture you on the vice of theft.”

Morgan poked the tip of Westlie’s nose, grinning. “Alls fair when it’s sitting on the card table.”

“They overturned the table!”

“Shhh, shh shh shh. Semantics, Wes. We were playing cards, he was very drunk, and now he’s missing 50 sovereigns. No harm in that.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“A pain in your ass,” Morgan corrected. “John appreciates me.”

“He absolutely does not. You cause a fight once a week.”

“And I help clean up after! I’m a dutiful member of my local community.”

“So many fights….” Westlie groaned, rolling over to eye her sister for half a second before grabbing her pillow and pinning it down on Morgan’s face. “Can you win this one?!”

There was a muffled ‘..Fucker!’ before Westlie got kneed right in the stomach and she keeled over. “I’ll beat your ass!”

Westlie ducked the right hook, and tackled Morgan around the stomach, pinning her back down to the bed. “I’ve still got weight on you!”

“You are such a bitch! I was feeling so sorry for you with that Venni cunt.” Morgan twisted her legs around and Westlie felt herself biting the bed with a pillow shoving her head down from behind. “Do feathers taste good? I’ve never bothered to find out.”

Westlie wriggled a shoulder free, holding her breath and betting on Morgan’s vindictive two-hand hold on the pillow to continue while she caught her sister’s wrist and yanked. Morgan tipped, thrown off balance and Westlie scrambled on top to pin her arms and legs down. “Aha!”

Morgan squirmed for a full minute, trying to toss Westlie off before she flopped back and rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. Uncle.” Westlie grinned as she popped off, collected her pillow and flopped back under the covers. Morgan sulked as she did the same. “If I’d known you’d just lecture and be a dick the whole time I would have stayed in my room.”

Westlie poked the tip of her nose. “But you’re nice.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m mean,” Westlie agreed. For full sulking aesthetic Westlie sat up and tucked in her little sister on the other side of the bed. Morgan eyed her with the look that said she was annoyed, but equally pleased before yawning.

Westlie caught the yawn as she fell back under the covers and they laid there, sleep catching up with them. There was a long pause until Morgan shifted a little.

“When are you going to come out with me again, Wes?”

“Mm,” Westlie curled under the blankets and shrugged after mentally reviewing her list of to-dos. “Things should die down in a few more days. You know how the end of the month is. And I can handle more things now I’m 18 so there’s that too.”

Morgan sighed quietly, and just like that the house felt big and empty and lonely. “…I miss you.”

They were only two years apart, but Westlie could feel the separation and she was reminded, again, of their estrangement in some ways; and that in many respects, they were each others’ only real family. She rolled on her side and reached over, squeezing Morgan gently with one arm. “Hey, it’s ok. I’ll have a night off soon.”

“You always say that.”

Westlie didn’t know how to respond, hesitating. She finally sighed and squeezed her a little tighter. “…I miss you too.”

Morgan felt very small and Westlie remembered when they were far smaller and fit much better in the same moderately-sized bed. She would come running in during storms or if the soot from the factories nearby made scary shapes in the clouds. Westlie was not good at comforting and it didn’t help that now she couldn’t scoff at the clouds or the thunder and tell Morgan to wait an hour. There was nothing else she could do except hold her. Even that was a bit empty now since Morgan wasn’t quite a child anymore and hadn’t ever really been a child, like Westlie; affection was a poor subsitute for false promises. But she was here, and Westlie genuinely couldn’t give her a date, a tomorrow, a next week. Westlie sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have your own problems,” Morgan said quietly. “I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Morgan rolled back over and gently touched the tip of Westlie’s nose. “I might not like it, but I understand.”

Westlie sighed again and let go of her, curling up tighter in the blankets. “How does you coming in here always make me feel guilty?”

“Because you know I’m right.”

Westlie rolled her eyes. “Says the one who stole 50 sovereigns from some poor stovepipe sap.”

“Stealing and emotional intelligence are not mutually exclusive.”

“Mmph, spare me.” But Westlie couldn’t resist a smile, interrupted by yet another yawn.

She felt Morgan curl up tighter in the blankets, settling in. “Good night, Wes.”

“… If I get those letters written and the cargo done we can go out tomorrow.”

“Sure, Wes.” There was a hopeful lilt in Morgan’s voice, but it stayed tempered. Westlie knew that look and she didn’t open her eyes to check.

“Night, Morgan.”

[askbittyerror]

Wedding RP part 10

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo twitches a little, his eyelights growing hazy... and then he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Juice. It doesn't do much to clear the aura daze, but it's something.

Archer sticks their tongue out at their pop. They are happy! They will express as such!!

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...I uh, I can respect that-" the look they're giving Archer is a bit stunned, as they struggle to, a, not just let it overwhelm them, and b, come to terms with the fact that- -well. All of that, honestly.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {Dream sighs and reaches over patting the bab's head catching his attention. He then boops Archer's nose and suddenly his aura is...  gone. Dream has it trapped close to his bones so while holding him will induce a pleasant warmth it wont take over everything} No aura flares kiddo. Too many people who can feel it in a bad way

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." Blue is trying to gauge whether they're intrigued enough to stay, and also whether hasty retreat would be seen as rude. ..in the end, cute baby, and really interesting family... now also part of theirs, if seems.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Archer turns, tilting their head. They whine, looking very upset. Nintendo mutters something about putting it back, but he might just still be dazed.

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Magnus and Paladin's auras calm, but they still seem tense.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {Dream pulls Ink closer and kisses his jaw} Wake up love you will miss out on the fun {He looks back to the family} Ink gets aura drunk on positive aura...

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo blinks his eyes open, muttering swears. "No I don't. Shut up." He shoves at Juice a little, stumbling back and rubbing his sockets. "Fuck- I'm here, I'm here- where were we-?"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...I don't know where you were, but I think most of the rest of us were slightly alarmed by- all that." Blue admits, looking decidedly concerned.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." Nintendo narrows his eyes. "What? Why would you be?"

JusticeMom09/27/2020 As I said... Ink is sensitive... he will be okay {He kisses Ink to stop the protests}

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...sorry." the guy is sensitive to the massive aura power that both his mate and child out off. clearly not concerning. the very young smol has enough aura to knock several grown people on their ass, like someone just swiped all their bones. also not concerning. Bells' brother has a baby with a fusion of the same massively powerful guardians that is being dated by said Bells. perfectly unconcerning. "...information overload, I think."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Our Inks are like that too!" Mercury says, still vibrating. "Would you like a hug?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 Archer nods, still trying to reach out and wrap their arms around the vibrating bitty. They love hugs!

Nintendo continues to swear, pulling away from the kiss. He seems personally insulted and not at all aware of his totally unconcerning behavior and/or situation.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {He chuckles totally focused on distracting Ink. he has even started combing his fingers through the feathers at the base of Ink's wings} keep swearing like that and you will give me a reason to leave the party early {a tease and a threat before he looks again to watch Archer want to make all the friends!}

salty darkness09/27/2020 His wings not-so-gently hit Juice in the face. As one does. "Keep telling me not to swear like that and I'll leave myself."

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {a look of tired amusement from the Justice Lord} love you too Ink {He smiles letting the shorter skeleton bristle for a bit}

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mercury carefully swings himself over to sit with the child, wibbling his tentacles, and flops onto the bab, giving them many hugs and purring his sweet little heart out.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." Okay, they're cute. But still concerning.

salty darkness09/27/2020 More happy Archer! Happy happy baby! Many hugs for the vibrating cuddly bitty.

"Fuck you." Nintendo ignores whatever response Juice is inevitably about to give him for that sentence, turning back to Blue and their bitties. "Ahem. So, uh..." "...when are we allowed to finally eat?"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Absolutely delighted bitty, vibrating from joy and purrs. "Food?" Jabber asks, very interested.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "I uh..." Blue looks around, and admits, after a moment, "I think everyone forgot about the cake."

feather bean💙09/27/2020 "food!"

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." Nintendo glances to Blue. "I dare you to eat it early."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Magnus grins and Paladin whaps him with a wing. No.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Blue snorts, shaking their head. "Don't think I have to. Seems cake cutting may be about to begin."

salty darkness09/27/2020 Archer looks at the cake, and the small gathering of people now... well, gathered around it. They babble, reaching for their papa, who lifts them back up into his arms.

"...booooo. Bells would've at least humoured me a little."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mercury is lifted as well and takes the opportunity to hug Nintendo too. Happy boy.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...well, maybe. but look. cake. being cut-" "Um. Where did the piece of cake go?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." Nintendo grins... a little too widely. "I'm going to murder my step-brother one of these days!" "...don't worry about it. That's just Lark. He does that." [9:09 PM] Nintendo curls his wing around, hugging Mercury back. Because nobody can resist the cuddles.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...huh." if they're unsettled by the too wide grin, they hide it fairly well. "I bet Jack could do that." Enigmatic observations!

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Can confirm, he is also full of crimes!" Mercury giggles, nuzzling the wing.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...yes, but mostly fun crimes." plus, had done so much for their family- Blue smiles at the sight of their Nintendo, Mercury, and Archer, all being snuggly. "...so, what was this about your dad?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 "...what the fuck is a Jack?" Nintendo rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. He may be pouting because he's not getting the cake anytime soon. "...anyway, a Paladin bitty named Coryn adopted me. I'm his kid now. Or something along the lines." "...kinda surprised they aren't here yet, honestly."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...maybe he's in another area?" [9:41 PM] "...and a Jack is... a Jack. there's no other way to describe him."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Jack’s my friend!” Mercury smiles. “And uh, I think he says he was a Blueberror? Or something like that?”

salty darkness09/27/2020 "Oh." "...have I mentioned that I hate Swaps? Particularly glitched ones? Because I do."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." "..." "Why?"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Jack’s nice!” Mercury frowns, tentacles flicking. “He keeps me company when the world stops moving!”

salty darkness09/27/2020 The salty one gives Mercury a look. "That's creepy as fuck." "...and I just- don't like them. The one in our Multiverse is always up to no good, and he kinda fucked over my opinion on the entire lot."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Oh!" Magnus looks up. "Yours is a Rogue! Yeah, those guys suck, I set ours on fire once." He looks very proud of himself.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "...I mean- he acts like one, but I don't think he technically is-??" [9:56 PM] He doesn't even seem surprised about the setting on fire.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "... someone gave you a flamethrower-" Blue mumbles, trying not to sound amused.

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Well, if he's a biggie, then yeah." Magnus shrugs. "And in my defense, he was gonna kill Elisus and I was helping. Not kill him. Stop him. Yeah. That."(edited)

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." "Huh." Nintendo grins. "Aren't they violent? And murderous? And generally bloodthirsty?" "...awesome, now I have more threats and taunts to throw at his face."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "All of the yes." Magnus nods.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "You. Did enough to him." Bells denies flatly, pushing a piece of cake at the brother, seemingly from nowhere, "try anything like that again? and I will disown you. again." "...and also tell our boyfriend with the big glowy wings." ...aaand they're back flirting with their new hubby. Rude. "..." Blue looks at him for explanation.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo blinks, staring at the cake. He shifts Archer around, holding them in one arm, cake in the other. "..." "Well fuck you too, sib!"

He glances to Blue, ignoring Archer's babbles and protests as he holds the cake above and out of their reach. "I, uh. May have threatened to do a lot of physical violence to him once." "...so much so that he crashed and forgot literally everything."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Wow." Magnus blinks. "Ours is uh, kind of doing done that at the moment."

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo mutters something about also torturing him a little. Physically and mentally. ...even Archer looks vaguely concerned.

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Magnus blinks, thinks back to Ink, remembers the time he pinned him in a corner and excitedly told him about all the stuff he did to his old owners until Magnus panic attacked so hard he threw up, then just shrugs. "K." Mercury looks, kind of concerned honestly, but just pats the biggie and the village bitties don't seem to give a fuck. Gold and Beryl however are hiding and have been for several minutes. Paladin is the only one who looks actually upset.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo looks confused. "..." "What? It was two months ago. He got his memories back. Pretty sure he doesn't even remember being almost-murdered. It's fine."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Now? Blue looks slightly more concerned. "...almost murdered?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." He laughs nervously. "I mean, uh. What." "..." "The Anons did most of it. Not me."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." Blue looks down at their own cake, wherever the heck it came from, considering this. "...you sound nervous for not being responsible." they reflect. "-why were you threatening him anyway? that usually happens for a reason?"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Paladin also looks very interested in this.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo looks like he would rather be literally anywhere else. "..." "Before I say it, do you promise to acknowledge that, at the time, I was stupid and grumpy and really not thinking straight for a variety of reasons, most of all mental health issues?"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "...yes." Paladin begrudgingly says.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo gives Blue a look. He may be waiting for them to promise too.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...okay. I promise." They agree, after a moment's quiet.

salty darkness09/27/2020 He laughs nervously, adverting his gaze. "...Bells was giving them attention, and I wanted that attention, so I... dragged him into the hallway and told him all the things I would, could, and will gladly do to him and his eventual desecrated corpse if he pulls that shit again...?"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." "But, you didn't... right?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." "I didn't. But it did make him crash so hard he lost all of his memories for a week and a half straight."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "...do you regret it?" Paladin asks softly.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." He doesn't answer.

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "...will you do it again?" Paladin tries.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Again, he doesn't answer.

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Okay.” Paladin sighs. “Mercury. Come here.” Mercury looks from Nintendo to his uncle, hesitates, then moves back over to Blue with a quiet apology.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." Nintendo takes a step back. Archer makes a confused babbling noise of confusion.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Blue hugs him, murmuring reassurance, before looking up at the inky one. "...and that was your only motivation? jealousy of your sibling?" "..." "You must be terrified of losing them."

salty darkness09/27/2020 Despite himself, he growls. "Shuddup."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...that's a yes."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Please stay away from my family.” Paladin says evenly, squawking when Magnus repeatedly whacks him on the wing. “You are not the sole decision maker here.” He jabs his brother in the chest. “Calm your tits, you are not going to alienate my new child.” “But-” Magnus reaches up and slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shut the fuck up or I swear to the creator I will feed you your circlet.”

salty darkness09/27/2020 "..." The inky one seems a little confused... and still clearly worried about getting his ass kicked by a tiny justice man. "Your? New? Child??"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Blue smiles, just a little. "You may have noticed... adoption happens in our family. a lot. and at least half the time, the adopted is the last one to find out."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “You are my child’s sibling and are therefore my child.” Magnus smiles, hand still over his now glaring brother’s mouth. “As long as you’re okay with it, that is.” His smile turns hopeful as he just straight up climbs his brother, slapping an arm over his eyes as well.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "...did-" Nintendo narrows his eyes. "Did you not hear the part where I psychologically tormented and abused my step-sibling?"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...I heard the part where you were terrified of losing someone you love. who also happens to be my child." Blue answers, watching him. "It makes me wonder what other lengths you've gone to for them."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "If I stopped talking to everyone who's done fucked up shit I'd have like, four people to talk to." Magnus shrugs, pointing dropping his chin on Paladin's growl-rumbly soul. "Pal. Nightshade." The rumbles stop and Paladin crosses his arms, huffing.(edited)

salty darkness09/27/2020 The inky one is quiet for a moment. "...I, uh..." He shrugs. "I fought off Black 2.0 for them once. Does that count?"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." "I. I'd say that counts." They may look a little pale at the admission.

salty darkness09/27/2020 "...I'm guessing you know what it does?" he sounds... distant. Almost a little scared.

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "I uh, have made it a point to know the color effects, yeah. Our Ink is generally only dangerous when he needs to be- but, size doesn't keep him from being deadly when he does need." "...mostly he's just, prankstery, and stuff. I can't imagine how terrifying he'd be if he was affected by that stuff."

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The bitties also look a bit pale. "Yikes." Magnus mutters, trying to imagine an even more menacey Ink.

salty darkness09/27/2020 The salty one is... quiet. So, so quiet. His voice seems to crack a little. "I, um. Yeah. It- it really is." "...don't... don't ever let him near that stuff. Or any Ink alternate, actually. Period."