#ugh well off to ao3 I go to see if someone fixed it

[gottagobackintime]

Having a queer “will they, won’t they” with a slice of “they have a past”. One of them is clearly ashamed of himself for being in love with another man. The other one isn’t ashamed and is desperate for the man he loves to admit his feelings and commit to a life together. They almost kiss several times. Finally gets to kiss while the “not ashamed one” is dying after he saved the man he loves.

[leafy-mints]

normalcy is overrated

2.5k words. 15!skk. fluff (w/ a little angst if you squint).

He was startled by Dazai letting out a strangled noise from the back of his throat and.. dropping to the ground?

"Oi, what the hell are you doing?” Chuuya’s eyes widened a bit in equal parts shock and utter confusion.

He ignores him and starts rolling around.

On the ground.

In an alleyway.

"Okay, seriously, Dazai. What the hell?"

Or, in which Chuuya learns a little more about his partner.

based on this post by @unicornpopcorn14!!

also on my ao3!

~ ~ ~ ~

The first time Chuuya noticed one of Dazai's odd behaviors was an afternoon when they were leaving the arcade.

The (unfortunately) taller boy walking next to him was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and occasionally pulling his hands out of his pockets to shake his hands or wiggle his fingers. The boy was practically vibrating.

And frankly, it worried him a little. The bastard was biting his lip hard.

"What's up with you?"

Well, he didn't mean for that to come out so harshly, but sue him. He was never one for proper tone anyway.

Dazai immediately paused his shaking, but it took him another second to stop biting his lip. Almost as if he didn't quite realize he was doing it. Chuuya's worry spiked a little seeing how red and irritated his lip was.

"Nothing," Dazai dragged out the word with a smirk, basically begging Chuuya to press further.

The redhead only sighed and rolled his eyes (a common occurrence when talking to Dazai), he wondered if ignoring him would work.

"Well, if you must know," Apparently not, Chuuya thought, "Chuuya did lose yet another bet today and I'm busy thinking of all the weird, insane things I could make him do."

Ugh, he shouldn't have asked.

"Yeah, yeah.. Just quit biting your lip like that before you hurt yourself."

Dazai blinked and looked the closest to surprised Chuuya had ever seen him before quickly fixing his expression to play into their normal banter.

An over-dramatic gasp, "Is Chuuya worried about me?"

Chuuya flushed and stuttered before eloquently yelling, "Fuck you! Bleed out then for all I care!" And crossing his arms.

"Bleed out?" Dazai snickered, "That's a little dramatic, no?"

Chuuya huffed and elbowed Dazai in his side.

"Ow!" Dazai whined, "For someone so small, you sure do pack a punch."

"I'm only fifteen, asshole, and I'm still growing!"

Dazai grinned and faked a yawn, "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before."

Chuuya took a breath since he didn't particularly feel like fighting Dazai today. He took another glance at his bitten lip and his initial worry simmered right back in his stomach.

The only thing he could correlate that to was being nervous, but all they've done was go to the arcade today.. Hell, this is their day off, so what would even be making him nervous?

So, it probably wasn't nerves.

..Excitement was another one, but biting your lip until it almost bleeds didn't seem like a proper way to express that. It confused Chuuya a bit, but Dazai was an odd person. He wasn't gonna question it.

He dug in his pocket and tossed a lollipop at him.

Dazai fumbled a bit before he caught it and curiously turned it over in his palm to examine it. He looked at Chuuya with something akin to amusement.

"Just.. chew on that instead," His face was still a little warm.

Dazai looked from the candy in his hand to Chuuya one last time before shrugging and taking the wrapper off to pop it in his mouth.

From that day forward, Chuuya just so happened to always carry a lollipop with him on their off days. Whenever Dazai would start biting his lip after a particularly good day out, Chuuya would toss the candy at him so he'd have something a bit safer to chew on.

~ ~ ~ ~

The second time he'd noticed was during one of their earlier missions as an official duo. Or 'Double Black' as they were titled.

The basic objective: Sneak into some fancy gala, intercept the message, get out.

At first, Chuuya wondered how on earth two fifteen year olds were expected to sneak into such an extravagant event, but he soon realized nearly everyone was too drunk to care.

It was a fairly easy, lower level mission, so the two were honestly growing bored.

Well, the sneaking in part was easy enough ("You'd think they'd have better security for something as hyped up as this," Chuuya snorted before picking the lock to the back door in a grand total of 40 seconds), it was waiting for their target that was taking agonizingly long.

So the two had taken to indulging in a bit of tomfoolery, if you will.

Who could talk to the most women before the party was over?

A bet Dazai proposed, of course. Chuuya honestly found it a bit stupid seeing as all the women here were probably twice (if not thrice) their age, but he was never one to back down from a bet.

Plus, Chuuya was winning by a margin, so he was honestly feeling pretty good.

That was until he caught a glimpse of their target making his way to the other side of the room in a haste.

He scanned the room for Dazai, but he was nowhere to be found.

Great. Seems he's on his own.

Which, Chuuya found, felt very strange. He doesn't normally separate from Dazai on missions or even go on missions on his own yet. So trailing the guy with no clue where his partner was didn't sit right with him at all.

He was still looking out for Dazai while speed walking a fair distance behind the man. Chuuya was a mix of relieved and upset when he spotted the mop of brown curls in the crowd.

"We gotta go now," Chuuya hissed, "Target's on the move."

Dazai’s brows creased together briefly before he allowed Chuuya to grab his wrist and drag him along.

The two were just reaching an alley a few blocks down from the venue. Both a little out of breath from the running (they barely avoided being spotted courtesy of an argument they ended up having) and taking a short break to reconvene and evaluate the success of the mission.

Chuuya noticed how uncharacteristically quiet the bandaged boy was, but decided not to comment on it. He took this time to focus on slowing his racing heart.

He was startled by Dazai letting out a strangled noise from the back of his throat and.. dropping to the ground?

Scratch that, maybe he should’ve said something.

"Oi, what the hell are you doing?” Chuuya’s eyes widened a bit in equal parts shock and utter confusion.

He ignores him and starts rolling around.

On the ground.

In an alleyway.

"Okay, seriously, Dazai. What the hell?"

He briefly thought about kicking the other boy, thinking this was just another joke of his, but it honestly seemed a little serious.

Chuuya just stared on in confusion and slight concern as Dazai rolled around. He looked incredibly silly, and if he wasn’t at such a loss for words, he probably would've laughed.

After another minute or two, he came to a stop, rolling over one last time so he was on his back facing the nearly pitch black sky.

He let out an obnoxiously loud sigh and shut his eyes before whining, “I lost our bet.”

Chuuya blinked before letting out a scoff. He found it hard to believe that was the only thing bothering him.

“And I lost to Chuuya of all people!” Dazai screwed his face up as if he had tasted something rotten when Chuuya’s name left his mouth, which led to the redhead kicking his shin in response.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?!” He raised his voice over the sound of Dazai’s very loud, but clearly fake, shout in pain.

“Oww, Chuuya’s so mean. He knows I don’t like pain,” He pouted.

The older boy rolled his eyes, “Tch. Whatever, asshole, I didn’t even kick you that hard.”

Dazai resumed his staring at the sky and Chuuya worried for a brief moment that maybe he did actually hurt him until his suspicions from earlier resurfaced.

“So, what’s wrong then?”

“What would be wrong?”

“Ugh-! You’re so impossible sometimes, you know that?”

“Thank you, I do try,” Dazai grinned.

If he was dodging the topic this hard, Chuuya wondered if he should even press it any further. Alas, he was (unfortunately) worried about Dazai and something seemed very off.

Chuuya sighed and sat down in front of Dazai.

“Alright, we won’t leave this spot until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Dazai failed to stifle a laugh, “Y’know I could just leave whenever, right? Nothing’s actually keeping me here.”

“So you admit something is wrong!” Chuuya smiled triumphantly and pointed at the dark haired boy who just unknowingly confirmed his suspicions.

Dazai’s brows creased again as he sat there for a minute. He looked like he was debating something.

Then he grinned–that couldn’t mean anything good–and smirked before challenging Chuuya.

“I guess we’ll just sit here then!” The taller boy shrugged.

Chuuya cursed at Dazai before crossing his arms and having an impromptu staring competition with him.

The bastard actually sat there for an hour. An entire hour. Chuuya wasn’t sure if he was more shocked at his own patience or Dazai’s pettiness.

He wasn’t sure what Dazai was thinking about during all that time, but he could practically see something shift in his eyes. Yet another emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve been having some.. issues.”

His face scrunched up as he looked to the sky, mumbling the statement to the few stars that could be seen. His lips were curled into a small pout.

No shit, Chuuya thought, but he raised an eyebrow at him regardless to urge him to continue.

"Just.. I don’t know, Chuuya. It’s just a lot. For once in my life, I honestly don’t know.” His voice was still hushed, almost as if he was unsure about revealing this to Chuuya.

The redhead just stared for a moment, trying to figure out how to go about this. He wasn’t really the best with comfort and seeing Dazai like this was, for lack of a better description, weird.

But there was also something a little assuaging witnessing him actually be open. Seeing Dazai actually be vulnerable with him, if only for a moment.

“Well, you’re right about the bet, you’re not living that down anytime soon,” Chuuya started with a smirk before being cut off by Dazai rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, very comforting-”

“Let me finish,” He faced a palm in his direction. The brown-haired boy sat up a bit straighter in interest, but went back to pouting.

“I’m not gonna pressure you into telling me what’s wrong, since it’s clear you don’t wanna talk about it,” This isn’t coming out right, Chuuya worried, “Which is fine!” He quickly added.

He met Dazai’s eyes and they were looking right back at him, fully attentive, like he was truly soaking up what Chuuya was telling him.

So he fought down the flush rising to his neck and continued, “Just know I’m here alright? For some stupid, unexplained reason I do actually care about you.. A little.”

“People aren’t always one-hundred percent on their game all the time–nobody's perfect,” Chuuya stood up and offered a hand toward Dazai. He stared at it before looking away and begrudgingly accepting the outstretched hand. “Just be grateful it only happened during a simpler mission,” The red head grunted as he eased Dazai back upright.

Dazai shifted his weight between his feet, looking everywhere but at Chuuya. The redhead caught the faint trace of a smile as Dazai tried to think of what to say. He gave up and only mumbled out a ‘sure’ before the two silently continued their trek to the designated pick-up point.

This night wasn’t ever brought up between the two again, but Chuuya had filed it away in his subconscious where there was an ever-growing folder keeping tabs on his partner’s habits.

~ ~ ~ ~

The third time was during a relatively slow day in headquarters. Chuuya was running an errand for Kouyou when he passed by Dazai sitting in one of the cushioned chairs in the lobby.

Well, laying in would be a more accurate description. His head was dangling a few inches above the floor and his legs were draped over the back of the chair as he chewed on a piece of bright, pink bubblegum.

Chuuya stopped in his tracks at his observation. Now, this particular instance wasn’t too bizarre, but he’s gotten better at reading Dazai as of late and he takes pride in that fact.

Going off of his blank expression and the gum he was chewing (he only chewed gum to have something besides his thoughts to focus on), he could tell immediately that the boy was upset.

“Something bothering you, bandages?”

Dazai let out an exaggerated sigh, “You’ve really been pestering me as of late.. Just cause you’re older than me doesn’t make you my mom.”

Chuuya sputtered (something else he’s been seeming to do around Dazai as of late), “I’m not trying to be your mom, stupid mackerel! Fine, I don’t care then. Wallow alone.”

Dazai huffed out a laugh, “Who says I’m wallowing?”

“It’s incredibly obvious you are,” Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“I think you pay a little too much attention to me..” A pause and a gasp, “Does Chuuya have a crush on me?”

“No, you idiot! I’m just-” Worried about you. But Chuuya would rather kill himself than say that out loud.

Well, doesn’t that sound familiar.

Dazai raised an eyebrow, “Just what?”

“Nothing,” Was Chuuya’s quick reply.

Dazai shrugged, “I’m going to safely assume you stopped yourself from professing your undying love and devotion for me. As my dog, it’s only natural you feel that way.”

Chuuya couldn’t believe this kid.

He wasn’t even going to grace Dazai with an outburst this time.

He settled for an eye roll, “Jeez, self-absorbed much?”

And that phrase must’ve hit a nerve, because Dazai immediately shut back down. His stare slowly drifted back to being blank and empty.

Chuuya momentarily had an internal panic before Dazai continued.

“Had to meet with Mori today,” He grumbled as he absentmindedly bumped his shoes against each other.

Oh.

Yeah, that sentence alone spoke volumes.

Personally, Chuuya’s never had a problem with the man–well, the least amount of problems you could have with the head of the Port Mafia–but he knows Dazai’s hatred for his somewhat-guardian runs deep. He wasn’t gonna push the issue if Dazai didn’t want to talk about it.

“Ah,” Chuuya made a noise of understanding before sitting criss-cross in front of him. He set the black folder he was carrying down at his side and didn’t miss how Dazai’s eyes followed it.

“What’s the Chibi have today?” Dazai teased, yet the smirk he offered didn’t quite reach. Still tip-toeing around the topic.

Chuuya scowled, “I thought I told you to stop with that stupid nickname.”

Dazai just shrugged the best he could with how he was laying across the chair and gave him an expectant look.

Chuuya rolled his eyes before continuing, “Kouyou-san needed me to run something down for her.”

That was all Chuuya was going to give since he didn’t really know what was in the folder himself. Dazai just hummed, not prying anyway.

“Aw, Chuuya’s being such a good doggie!” Dazai reached his hands out, one to pat Chuuya’s cheek and the other coming to ruffle his hair. It was an awkward angle, but of course, the boy made it work somehow.

“Would you quit that?” Chuuya exclaimed as he scowled deeper than earlier. His face went red and he promptly swatted bandaged arms away from him.

Dazai laughed and it sounded so painfully genuine that Chuuya even found himself smiling a bit. He was glad he could make the younger boy feel at least a bit better.

~ ~ ~ ~

@sakiyaki-sashimi @sleek-peak-peek @m-nerd44 @underthetree845

(hope i didn't miss anyone! 😭)

[janetbrown711]

To My Alcoholic Friends

Despite the fact it never, ever ends well, Pigsy, Tang and Sandy spend another Friday night out on the town, drinking and dancing and losing all of their inhibitions before they know it. This can only end well

LMK Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Didn't Want to be Saved

tw for moderate gore, violence, homophobic slurs, hate crimes, anger issues, post traumatic stress, and some very tame horniness before everything goes to hell in a handbasket

Ao3 Link

Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy went out every Friday night, despite it almost ending in disaster every time. Tang would get shitfaced, Pigsy would run his mouth, and Sandy would get into a fight or two just about every other week. Frankly, it was a miracle they were even allowed in bars anymore, but the bar owners always said they'd seen worse, somehow. Pigsy had his doubts about the whole thing, but was glad to be able to go out and away from the pressures of society. After all, heaven knows Tang needs these nights out more than anyone, and someone had to watch Sandy's back to make sure he didn't get himself killed, so Pigsy was always glad to go along and pay the tab.

It was a delicate balance, the three of them, but Pigsy liked it that way. Everything felt right in the world when he was protecting those he cared about.

“UGH, God, if I have to deal with that professor nagging about how I shouldn’t use oxford commas one more time, I'm going to fall into an early grave,” Tang flung the door open to the bar, finding an empty stool and sitting with a huff.

Pigsy laughed. “See, this is why I say college is a waste of time. All that scholar talk's nothing but hogwash to make them all feel superior to guys like us,” he smirked, sitting next to him.

Tang rolled his eyes. “You know my father and mother are both professors, right?”

“Yeah, and they also suck ass, ergo…” Pigsy gestured vaguely, making his partner push him playfully before ordering shots for the group.

Sandy snorted. “That's one way to put it.”

“Parents, who needs ‘em?” Pigsy elbowed Tang as the shots were placed in front of them.

“Ugh, you can say that again,” Tang instantly downed his shot before his face twisted with regret. “Man, I hate tequila. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Because we’re broke as shit,” Pigsy teased.

“And because it’s cheaper than therapy,” Sandy added before slamming his.

“And God knows we can't get your piece of shit ‘father’ outta the paper if we tried,” Pigsy added, finally taking his shot too.

“You're telling me,” Tang grumbled. “And what's worse is I'm in that stupid photo– all day people have been walking up to me and talking about his achievements in space technology and blah blah blah– I'm sick of it! I'm sick of him! He's an asshole! Not someone who's going to unlock the cosmos!”

“Yeah, your pop's a real piece of work,” Pigsy cringed.

“More like a piece of shit. Tossing you out, and for what?” Sandy growled. “He's weak and pathetic, and if I ever see him in public, rest assured I'd teach him a lesson ‘bout respect,” Sandy swore, eyes dark and dangerous.

Tang scratched his neck. “I-I don't know if that's necessary, Sandy, but thanks,” He gave a pitiful smile, while the river demon just grunted.

“Right, well… another round, gentlemen?” Pigsy suggested.

“You know it,” Tang immediately agreed, going back to massaging his forehead. “I can't take another second of thinking about my stupid thesis or my parents, or this song, ugh,” he bemoaned, looking around the bar for a jukebox or whatever the music was coming from.

“Sandy?” Pigsy looked his way.

“Wouldn't be a Friday night without at least three shots of that horse shit,” the river demon agreed, slightly less dark in the eyes, and so another round was ordered.

However, by the time they were ready, Tang had already wandered off to fix his annoyance. It was hardly surprising, but made Pigsy shake his head nonetheless.

“You– uh– good on your own?” Pigsy asked.

Sandy chuckled. “Go find him. I'll be fine waiting until the smooch fest is over.”

“Har-har,” Pigsy rolled his eyes, taking his and Tang’s shots from the bar before beginning his search through the crowded bar.

It took a bit of weaving and bobbing, but eventually Pigsy found Tang standing by the jukebox with his coin purse out.

“Don’t tell me you hate this song that much you’d waste 50 mao– you could buy shitty ramen with that money,” Pigsy gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not allowed to buy shitty ramen anymore, remember?” Tang gave a little smirk, before going right back to the machine.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “You and your spending habits fascinate me.”

“Trust me, this song’s gonna be worth it,” Tang insisted before inserting the five mao and selecting the right number.

The scholar watched with a dumb smile as the little robot arm took out the old CD and swapped it with the new one, eyes lit up like new years. Pigsy couldn’t imagine having that much excitement about some dumb machine, but it was one of the things he liked about Tang; He had a spark Pigsy lost years ago.

“Oo! Okay– okay– it’s starting!” Tang clapped his hands and finally turned to Pigsy, and jumped as he realized he had been holding their shots the entire time. “Sorry about that– I was just so excited– here,” he apologized, taking the drink from Pigsy.

“No worries,” Pigsy couldn’t help but laugh. “Ganbei?”

“Ganbei!” Tang cheered, clinking his shot glass against Pigsy's before they both drank just as the music started playing.

Immediately Pigsy's ears perked up as the familiar synth started to climb, and he started practically doubling over with laughter once the drums started.

“See? I told you you'd love it,” Tang grinned all stupid and dorky, making Pigsy wish he didn't know any better so he could grab his waist and kiss him already.

“This song is so stupid,” Pigsy said instead.

“What? You don't agree? Don't wanna ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’?” Tang batted his eyelashes.

“Tang,” Pigsy's face got all red and hot with pleasure, embarrassment, and a smidge of the alcohol kicking in.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion~ lay all your love on me,” Tang sang along, swaying his hips and throwing his hands in the air like a total idiot.

“You are way too much of a lightweight, you know that?” Pigsy raised a very amused eyebrow.

“And you’re too much of a hardass! C’mon, let’s dance,” His partner didn’t care one bit, moving to the beat with drunken, and irresistibly enticing carelessness.

“C’mon Tang, you know we can’t–”

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck,’” Tang continued to sing, hands moving down his hips in an enticing way. “A little small talk, a smile, and I was stuck~”

Pigsy just rolled his eyes and stepped back, watching his partner with a stupid grin and hot face as he continued trying to serenade him.

“‘I still don’t know what you’ve done with me. A grown-up woman should never fall so easily,” Tang fake swooned, making Pigsy fold with laughter, the desire to join him growing stronger with each stupid flail and look.

“I feel a kind of fear, when I don’t have you near,” Tang batted his eyelashes. “Unsatisfied, I skip my pride, I beg you dear~” Tang extended his hand, and this time, with all inhibitions washed away with alcohol, Pigsy took it.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me~’” Pigsy sang along, and Tang looked so happy Pigsy could kiss him (but instead settled for placing his hands on his hips).

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me~” Tang sang too, his fingers crawling up Pigsy’s arms in a way that made him shiver with delight.

They danced the whole music break together, the music and lights and Tang's general Tang-ness making it harder and harder for the pig demon to keep his hands off of him. It didn't help that the alcohol was certainly kicking in by now, making him feel all giddy and unable to look away from Tang's shaggy hair or how his changpao swayed and clung to parts of his body.

Damn it– Pigsy couldn’t take it anymore, Tang was just too irresistible when he was like this– and with the look Tang was giving him he had to know he was driving Pigsy insane– he needed him– he needed Tang now–

And so, not caring that the last verse wasn't over, Pigsy grabbed Tang’s hand and dragged him out to the back alleyway where he immediately started making out with him, which the scholar didn’t protest in the slightest.

“You’re– like– really fucking hot when you sing, you know that?” Tang said between kisses with a smug little grin.

“And you’re hot when you dance,” Pigsy replied shortly, wanting him to shut up so he could kiss him more.

Tang giggled. “Maybe I should dance for you back at the apartment~”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will~”

“God, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh sir, yes sir~”

“Tang–”

“Pigsy~ Oh-!”

That worked.

“Hey!” A voice called from down the alley.

Pigsy ignored it, gripping Tang's hair and scratches tight under his fingers, completely lost in the enchanting taste of his lover. Besides, he could easily be talking to someone else.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! What the hell you two think you're doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck– okay, slow down Pigsy, maybe he’s just step back and breathe. He's another dipshit in a long line of dipshits. You can deal.

Pigsy muttered under his breath, wiping his lips before he turned to face the bozo ruining his makeout session, sure to stand in front of Tang as he did. “Yeah?”

“This look like a fuckin’ fag house to you two?” The man spat, fingers curled into fists.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Maybe you oughta mind your business. What we’re doin’ ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he glared, and Tang put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do this, Piggy, it’s not worth it,” his partner whispered, but Pigsy brushed it off.

“We don't need more of your kind muckin’ around and taintin’ all the good bars in town,” the man sneered. “Every where I fuckin’ look there's more and more of you peach eaters.”

“Pigsy, let's just go back inside,” Tang urged, squeezing his shoulder.

“Look man, we're not here to cause trouble. Just go inside and–”

“You…” the man suddenly straightened up and pointed right at Tang, who hid closer to Pigsy. “You're the son of that rich space guy on the news, the one who’s gonna ‘take us to Mars’. I didn't know his son's a fuckin’ fairy– oh imagine the scandal,” He laughed, making Pigsy's blood boil.

“You leave him outta this,” He growled.

“What? What is this? Some kinda ‘Sugar Daddy’ situation? You suck his cock and he pays your rent?” The man howled with laughter.

“Watch it, I'm warning you,” Pigsy bared his teeth.

“Or better yet– his father kicked his faggot ass out and you’re the son of a bitch paying that jiàn fucker to have sex with you,” The man smiled and stepped closer. “How much for ‘im, huh? Ten yuan? Twelve? Five for a blowie, seven for a hand job?”

Pigsy heard Tang wince, which made Pigsy angry enough to shove the man. “I said to leave him outta this.”

“Pigsy– wait–”

“Aww, c’mon? You jealous? Or do you just not want word gettin’ out about your little wh–”

Pigsy sucker punched the idiot right in the jaw before he could finish his sentence, but the man was deceptively strong and managed to keep his stance.

“Oh I see how it is,” The man spat out some blood. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Pigsy swiftly went for another punch, but the man managed to dodge, grabbing and twisting Pigsy’s arm. His arm burned with pain, but Pigsy managed to kick the guy in the shin and knee, getting him to let go. When the demon went in for another punch, though, the man dodged and countered with one of his own, which hit him pretty hard.

“Yeah, you like that, you sick fuck?!” The man licked his lips, before he stuck the back of Pigsy's knee hard, bringing it to the ground.

“Pigsy!” Tang cried, getting the attackers attention.

“Oh, I'm sorry lover boy, am I hurting your paycheck?” He asked before trying to kick Pigsy in the ribs, which he mostly succeeded in, though the pig tried to grab his leg to stop it.

“You… leave him outta this!” Pigsy growled, anger burning just bright enough for him to grab and toss the guy to the ground. He gave a hard kick to the ribs for good measure, before running to Tang.

“Tang–” he panted– “Tang– you gotta get out of here– go– I can handle ‘im,” he urged, grabbing his shoulders.

“Wha–? No! I'm not leaving you like this! W-we should go together,” Tang shook his head tearfully, taking Pigsy's hand and pulling.

“Go back inside and find Sandy, it's okay,” The demon stood firm just as he felt the man get up and grab his shirt collar. Pigsy immediately jerked his head back, freeing him from his grasp.

However, he needed a stupid second to recover from the choking sensation, which was just long enough for the man to grab Pigsy's front collar and shove him against the wall, punching him again and again and again– and not just in the face, but in the stomach, in the ribs– everywhere. There was even a loud CRACK at one point that made his lungs feel on fire, but the man just kept going and going–

Until he suddenly stopped, though kept Pigsy pressed against the wall.

“Hey sweetheart, let's make an offer, eh?” The man suddenly looked to Tang who was trembling on the ground and pulling on his scarf, eyes wide with terror. “Let's say I get to take your sweet little queer ass home in exchange for this little piggy to live, eh?”

“S-stop this-! Let him go!” Tang choked out, finally bursting into sobs.

“I will! Just let me have the honor of seein’ you do a little dance or two for me,” the man grinned all smug, spurring up Pigsy's rage once again.

“You leave ‘im outta this, you son of a bitch,” Pigsy spat blood on his attacker, who gripped his throat tighter.

“C'mon, sweet thing, it's either you or the pork,” his assailant reached into his pocket where he had a switchblade– fuck–

Pigsy saw Tang's eyes go wide and briefly meet the chef's own. Immediately Pigsy shook his head– he wasn't worth it– he won't leave you alone– I can still fix this– Go. Home– when out of the blue the man was pulled away from him and Pigsy fell to the ground.

He felt Tang rush to his side instantly, though was alarmed when he realized he heard his attacker screaming– though when he looked up, it wasn't a surprise as to why.

Sandy had grabbed him, bending his arm the wrong way before kicking him to the ground and pinning him down. The man instantly begged him to stop– that he would just forget he ever saw any of them and call it a day, Pigsy knew that look in Sandy's eyes, and the river demon started striking again and again and–

“Pigsy–! Can you hear me?! Are you okay?!” Tang had apparently been trying to talk to the demon, though when he finally met his eyes, it didn't seem to matter as Tang just hugged him anyway.

“I'm so sorry– I'm so sorry– I could've stopped him– I was scared– I'm so sorry, I could've lost you,” Tang hiccuped.

“It's okay, Tang, it's okay, its–”

CRACK

Pigsy and Tang froze at the sound as the night air went still and silent, except for the sound of Sandy grunting and continuing to punch the ma–

The man's skull was cracked open– blood and liquids and chipped pieces of bones flowing and splattering out while Sandy continued– punch after punch after punch it just got worse– blood coating his friend's fist– splashing up to his elbows. The body squelched and cracked in noises so unholy it had the demon praying to the heavens it would stop and he could just forget the look in his friend’s eye– the look of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated rage as he beat the dead man again and again and again. It didn’t matter if he was punching a corpse, Sandy wouldn’t stop (maybe even couldn’t) until his rage– his bloodlust was satisfied.

Pigsy had known Sandy had anger issues, but never anything like this before…

Eventually, Tang sniffled and broke the embrace. “W-well… we should probably get you home– or to a hospital,” he smiled, looking over his shoulder. “Sandy–”

An unholy sound escaped Tang, as he instantly fell back and away from Sandy, grabbing Pigsy's arm as he watched in rigid terror. The sound was enough to make the river demon finally stop and stand, unnaturally still.

Pigsy struggled to make sound, the noise trapped in his throat. He tried to stand, and despite the fact it filled his chest with the intense burning of a thousand suns, he eventually got up.

“Sandy– it's– we can fix this, w-we just gotta get outta here, alright?” He looked around anxiously. The music was still thumping from inside the bar so it was impossible to hear if anyone was nearby, but Pigsy– Pigsy was sure they could make it.

“Y-yeah, we'll just– we just need to get outta here, alright? We'll just toss– toss… it, and then go to the apartment and just--we'll figure it out from there, alright Sands?” He forced a smile at Sandy, who didn't meet his eyes.

“Tang– Tang, let's get you up, okay? It's fine, we're all good, it's– we'll get new clothes, move to a new city, get new names– a new life. It'll be okay, everything is okay,” Pigsy tried helping Tang up, but his partner shriveled away from his touch, actively shaking with the wildest eyes Pigsy had ever seen.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, it’s okay– we’ll just go home and lay low for awhile, it’s okay, please– just stand up and–”

“Pigsy, stop.” Sandy suddenly spoke up, deep voice cracking with emotion Pigsy couldn’t understand.

The pig blinked. “S-Sandy– Sandy, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay–”

“No. It won’t.” He looked at Pigsy, revealing a face and bear battered with blood and bits of Pigsy’s attacker– a man– a person who was now completely annihilated and unrecognizable at the hands of the river demon.

Pigsy shook the thought away– he needed to get Sandy and Tang out of here, and fast. They were currently at the bar on Ba De and Shengli roads– Pigsy’s restaurant wouldn’t be for a couple blocks, but if Tang stopped by a corner store and got some baby wipes–

“Pigsy, you can’t make this better. Stop trying,” Sandy growled, making the chef take a step back directly against the wall of the bar.

“No! This– this can be fixed, he was an asshole anyways, w-we can just– we’re gonna go back to my place– Tang’ll go and buy baby wipes to clean you up a-and we’ll just fucking chill the fuck out for a couple days, alright?! It’ll be fucking fine!” Pigsy demanded, though shrank back when he saw Sandy’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Pigsy, it’s fucking over. Take Tang, and go home,” Sandy ordered.

“No! It’s– it ain’t over until I say it’s over and I don’t say so, s-so–!” Pigsy couldn’t stand looking at his friend, but everywhere else was stained and oozing and making Pigsy’s breathing even worse than before.

“Pigsy, it’s over, goddammit!” Sandy shouted, fists clenched in rage. “That man is dead, I killed him, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“God, fucking– I didn't ask you to do this, Sandy!” Pigsy suddenly shouted, adrenaline pumping fast in his broken chest. “I had it handled! I coulda fixed this fucking problem all on my own but you had to be a fucking hero like you always do–”

“You really think if I hadn't arrived exactly when I did, your sorry ass wouldn't be bleeding out right now?” Sandy spat out a bitter laugh.

“I would've figured it out! But no! You have to go a-and make everything worse for yourself– and of course you won't let me fucking help you either! You're ridiculous!” Pigsy could laugh too, though it made him wince in pain.

“Take a look in a fucking mirror, Pigsy,” Sandy looked away and shook his head. “You need to get Tang and get outta here before you end up ruining not only your life, but Tang’s life too–”

“I didn't ask you to rescue me, alright?! You didn’t have to swoop in. I didn’t want this– I didn’t ask for this!” Pigsy’s voice cracked, and before he knew it tears started to form in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask for you to be such a dipshit you’d let yourself get caught again, but you know by now we don’t all get what we want now, do we?” Sandy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus– this is just like you, you know that?” Pigsy threw his hands up, exasperated. “I go outta my way to try and protect you, and this is all the thanks I get. Nice. Real nice, Sandy,” he spat.

“Pigsy–”

“No… No, you know what?” Pigsy laughed, wiping his face of hot tears. “Let’s just– just shut up and go home already. Once we’re home, we can cool off a-and think straight and then we’ll have a plan for what we’re gonna do and what we’re gonna say. We just gotta get home first, I’m sure my Nana’ll be to help,” Pigsy tried to assert and grab Tang’s arm, but Sandy interfered.

“What, so you’ll drag her down too into this whole fucking nightmare too? Tang and yourself not good enough?” Sandy’s voice rumbled low and dangerous.

“Dammit, Sandy! I’m not letting you throw your life away! Not like this!” Pigsy begged, a sob making a quick escape before being suppressed.

“Pigsy, go before I make you,” Sandy warned, completely unmoved by the onslaught of emotion.

“No! I don’t care! I am getting you outta here a-and we’re gonna go home– and we’re gon–” Pigsy’s rambling was cut off by Sandy’s fist that sent him flying down the alley, another terrible shriek escaping Tang.

Immediate ringing flooded Pigsy’s ears, a fuzziness that had been mild before increasing tenfold now. He could feel Tang on him, grabbing him, shaking him, trying to see if he was okay. When Pigsy opened his eyes though, all he saw was Sandy holding the dead man’s knife and glaring down silently.

After a good, hard look, Sandy whispered, “Leave,” and before Pigsy could accept or refuse, Tang grabbed his arm and forced him to run up and away.

They made it all the way to the opposite block before they stopped, Pigsy's sides stinging and head throbbing too much to go on like that. Once the fuzziness cleared and the ringing in his head stopped, he finally got a good look at Tang and–

Oh. Oh god– he was still shaking like an animal, eyes wide and muttering utter nonsense to himself, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face as he rubbed his arms up and down and up and down.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, you're okay,” Pigsy grabbed his shoulders, successfully getting his partner to look at him and loosen his shoulders a bit.

However, the second he relaxed he began to wretch and quickly stumbled to the nearest trash can where he puked his brains out while sobbing.

“Hey now, it's alright, you're okay Tang, I got you, you're alright,” Pigsy soothed tiredly, rubbing circles into his back while the scholar trembled at the effort.

It took ten minutes, but when he was done, Tang embraced his demonic partner, burying his head into his shoulder and sobbing out apologies and fears and worries and promises at lightning speeds. It made Pigsy feel like he was going to puncture a rib, but let Tang have his words, pressing a soft kiss against his head he didn't care if anyone saw and nuzzling close.

“It's alright, Tang. I got you. You're safe. It'll be okay,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes yet again. He couldn't have chosen a more blatant lie in his life– his best friend killed someone, and was just left facing it all alone– it wasn't right! It wasn't fair! And by God was it infuriating.

Sandy was probably going to be sentenced to death for his crime, meaning the last interaction the two would ever have was him punching Pigsy in his stupid face.

Pigsy clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in Tang's scarf, finally letting out a loud sob.

His best friend was going to die because of him.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 44 (Crosshair)

Summary: Layla does some grocery shopping and runs into someone who makes her smile.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I hope everyone is having an awesome week. This week was a bit hectic. My nephew is moving. He's all grown up and going off to college. Ugh! I feel old. I remember when he was a baby and I held him in my arms. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this non-Crosshair chapter.

Love oo

Warnings: Joking, banter, laughing, flirting adjacent, apologies. I think that's it, if I miss any warnings, please let me know.

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Layla took her time going up and down the aisles at the grocery store, she wanted to make a meal for Crosshair, that would at the very least help restore her family’s good name. 

I picked up a pasta sauce, reading the ingredients. When I heard someone clear their throat, I turned to glance and saw Howzer standing there in his police uniform.

“Howzer?”

“Hey, Layla” he smiled, his pearly white teeth beaming at her, he ran his hand through his hair, “funny running into you here.”

As much as I wanted to be annoyed with him, I couldn’t because he did have this swagger about him that intrigued me. Didn’t hurt that he was extremely good looking. The whole Fett clan had ridiculously good genes. 

“Well I don’t live that far from here, the question is what are you doing here?”

Howzer grinned as he looked at her, moving to stand beside her as he leaned against the aisle, “I don’t live that far from here either, and I just finished my shift.”

“Imagine that” I smirked, “you live so close that we share a grocery store.”

He couldn’t help smile as he looked at her, “Imagine that.” His eyes slowly cascaded over her outfit, “Take it you just finished work too?”

“I did, I’m just doing a little light shopping, since I’m having someone over for dinner tomorrow, and I don’t feel like cooking today.”

There was a strange sensation in Howzer’s stomach, one that made him flinch. He wasn’t sure, but he had a good idea it was jealousy with a hint of pain, “I see. Cooking for someone … special?”

The corner of my lip slowly lifted into a smirk, “Is that your way of asking if I have a boyfriend?”

“No. Not just a boyfriend, you could have a girlfriend, husband, wife, hey I’m open.” He smiled, fighting back a laugh. 

“Well, before you start listing all my non-existent significant others, no. I don’t have anyone special. I’m making Crosshair dinner tomorrow since he’s coming over to help fix a few things at my place.”

“You know Cross lives … a good 15 - 20 minutes away, and I’m just in the neighbourhood, if you ever need something fixed, you can always just ask me.”

It felt as though my cheeks were being pulled back involuntarily as I looked at Howzer, “I appreciate the offer, but it’s a bet we have going on right now.”

“Ah. A bet. Okay.” He chuckled, “That’s what the kids are calling it.”

I shook my head, lightly smacking his arm, “It is a bet. It’s a long story but my sister was a horrible cook, so I’m showing him, it’s not because of me.” I focused back on the pasta sauce, picking up another one and reading the ingredients, before putting it in the cart. 

“Ahhh, I see said the blind man to his deaf wife.”

Howzer couldn’t help focusing on the smile on her lips, the warmth that radiated off her, the kindness that was evident in her eyes. He knew she’d been touched by trauma and lost everyone dear to her, at least that’s what he heard through the grapevine. How accurate that was he gave it a 70/30 chance in favour of accuracy. It was odd to find someone who had suffered much to be so quick to smile. 

“I owe you an apology,” he quietly stated as he walked beside her, while she continued her shopping. Stopping alongside her as she looked at him with confusion.

“Apology?”

“The other day at the gym, I was … hell, I’ll just say it, I was a bit of an ass. It’s been a while since I found someone as intriguing as you, and my flirting skills are somewhat rusty. My cousin clarified for me that I came off rather douchey, and that was not my intention.”

His apology warmed my heart, as I glanced down, “Truthfully, I’ve been out of the dating sphere for a long time too, and I may not have responded as kindly or thoughtfully as I wanted to either. How about we just call it a misunderstanding and move on.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not gonna throw it back in my face later on?” He chuckled.

“I promise I will not throw it back in your face later on, but if you act like that again, then all bets are off, deal?”

Howzer held out his hand to shake hers, feeling her soft tiny hands in his sent a warmth coursing through his arms towards his heart and stomach. His eyes fixed on hers, taking note of every little detail, the shape of her eyebrows, the colour of her eyes, the way her eyelashes curled with her mascara. The soft slope of her nose, even the way her lips settled as she offered a warm, genuine smile. In one word, she was beautiful. 

“Deal.”

Layla felt her face heat up from the Captain’s attention, she cleared her throat pulling her hand away. 

“So what do you have left to get?”

“Well that depends.”

“On?”

“If you’ll join me for dinner.”

The air of my lungs flooded out of me at his statement, I felt my cheeks flush. My heart began to race as the words played over and over again in my head. 

“Or maybe I’m overstepping?” He finally stated, when she hadn’t responded in what felt like an eternity.

“No.” I answered softly, surprised my voice could even do soft, “No, you didn’t overstep. I was just … thrown off.”

“Didn’t mean to throw a beautiful woman such as yourself off your mark.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stop myself from smiling way too big. “I … listen, I’m sure you’re a great guy …”

“Oh.” Howzer felt a coldness run through his veins. 

“No. Not …” I rubbed my forehead, hoping I wasn’t doing the wrong thing, “I don’t know you.” I stated bluntly as I looked at him, “Like I said, I’ve been out of the dating circle for quite some time and I’m a little gun shy, so I need to get to know someone first a little before saying yes to dinner. Not just with you, with anyone. So … as flattered as I am, and I am, we’ve only met three times, and this is the longest conversation we’ve had.”

A sliver of embarrassment started to form in Howzer’s chest, that made its way to his face, as it got redder and redder. “Yeah, that …” He let out a huff of regret, nodding, “I’m sorry. I jumped the gun, of course you wouldn’t want to have dinner with a stranger, even if he was related to your sister’s husband. It’s okay. How about this, how about we just start off as friends. There’s a burger joint across the street, nothing fancy, just two friends getting to know one another. No expectations.”

“No expectations?”

“None. I mean sure you’re a total knockout in your lawyer get up,” he teased, “but at this moment, you might as well be Wrecker.”

I let out a laugh, feeling relaxed and enjoying this moment between us, “Okay. No expectations. I have to go home and change though, because I’m not eating at a greasy spoon in my nice skirt, and heels.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against you,” he slowly looked her up and down, “I might hold it against me.” He teased, “I’m kidding,” he chuckled at her reaction, she looked like she wanted to smack him. “That’s fine, I have to change too, I don’t usually go home in my uniform but there was a leak from the sprinklers, and everything in my locker got soaked so I have to throw my clothes in the washer.”

“May sure to soak them first.”

“You want me to soak my already soaked clothes?” 

“To get rid of the dirty sprinkler water. You don’t want your washer to smell of dirty water, and then have that smell stick to the rest of your clothes.”

“Ah.”

“Also adding a little white vinegar, just half a cup will help clean and deodorize your clothes.”

“Thanks for the tip.” He glanced at his watch, “What do you say about meeting up at 730? Or is that too late?”

“Nah, that’s fine. 730, at Burger Warehouse.”

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@justanothersadperson93​ @liadamerondjarin​ 

 @spicymcnuggies​ @lady-ren​ @firstofficerwiggles​ 

@darkangel4121​ @discofern​ @kavecika​ 

@monako-jinn-stories​ @ladykatakuri​ @avathebestx​

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 @dindjarin-mandalorian​ @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone

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@leotawrites @helenaslost @badbatch-simp24​

@dragonrider9905reads

[reigenkills]

yes this has plot now yes this might be longer than i planned it to be dont fucking look at me

ao3 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | 7 | 8

The father sends you off with a gift basket of vegetables and a bottle of wine for your help. He insisted, even after you refused, stating that you hadn't needed to visit and offer your services after he'd drunkenly harassed you the other night.

Death ditches you as soon as it starts raining, the prick, and you have to rush back to your inn drenched in rainwater. The innkeeper clicks her tongue over your state and ushers you into a warm bath, readying the fireplace for you to warm up by as soon as you're out. You end up falling asleep on one of the couches right by it, dozing away underneath a heavy, well-worn quilt.

You wake up to loud knocks on the front door the next morning. You tiredly open your eyes to see the innkeeper open the door to talk to someone, though their voices are way too far for you to clearly hear. Yawning, you stretch your arms, rising to sit back against the couch.

You can already feel the beginnings of a cold starting. Ugh. And you still had research work to do for Elrick's family. You run a hand over your face.

Right. Look for the spellcaster that made the spindle curse, which means look into the recent business contracts of Elrick's love's family, which means look into said love's family, which means look into Elrick's love. Fantastic.

You take a shower to wake yourself up. The innkeeper is nice enough to tell you she'll bring breakfast up for you, so you take your time standing under the hot water to shake as much fatigue off your muscles as you can. Your red cloak's still drying on the clothesline out back, so you'll have to ditch it and go with your regular clothes for now.

You return to your room to find your breakfast being pillaged by the massive wolf sitting on your bed.

"Fuck off!" You toss a boot at Death, since you'd grabbed your pair from the closet to lace up when you headed out. He catches it in mid-air without looking. "You don't even need to eat!"

"Says who?"

"You're Death!" You march forward to snatch your plate away from him. He tosses your boot right back at you, forcing you to duck. "What the fuck are you even doing here?"

"Business," he says.

"Then go collect the soul of whatever poor bastard kicked the bucket yesterday." You drop your other boot in favor of hurriedly shoveling food into your mouth, just in case he takes your plate from you again. "I'unno why you keep pestering me."

"Schadenfreude," he says. "You're annoying. I want to see you get put in a jar and shaken around."

You sneer at him. "I hope you get put in a jar and shaken around."

You finish your breakfast in record time, quickly putting on your boots to head downstairs for whatever bullshit involving death and gloom you're about to find yourself in if the wolf himself is here. There are two women waiting by the fireplace, both of them talking to the innkeeper with hushed tones and wringing hands. All of them stop at the sight of you on the staircase.

You have to stop yourself from turning around to see if they can see Death, but they make no mention of the wolf looming behind your shoulder. "Yes?"

"We heard from the Huntsman down the road," one of the old ladies says. "He says you know how to use magic?"

Oh boy.

Turns out the ladies' niece is sick. Has been sick for about a month, and none of the doctors can figure out what's wrong with her. With the scarcity of witches in town, they haven't been able to turn to magic for help, and so they'd decided to seek you out after they'd heard from their neighbor.

"We don't have much, but we're seamstresses," they say. "We would be indebted you, and we'll fix all your garments without charge."

"At…at least let me see what's wrong first," you say, because with Death hovering around, you have a sneaking suspicion that one of these old ladies is gonna offer her remaining life up for her niece, and you're not really keen on helping that along today.

Their house is a short walk from the inn. It's a nice sunny day out, a welcome change from the storm last night. You're welcomed into a small two-storey house a little ways off the main road, and led up to a child's room where a little girl lies asleep on her bed, feverish. Her mother and father are sitting by her bedside, tired looks on their faces.

They turn as you enter the room, glancing to their aunts with hopeful expressions. Ah fuck.

"Okay," you say, mostly to yourself, and then clear your throat to address everyone else. "Tell me what's wrong with her."

It's an issue of health. The little girl has always been frail since she's been born, and during a spike of ill weather a month ago, her health had taken a turn for the worse and she's never recovered. Your heart clenches as the mother recounts everything, breaking into sobs halfway through and leaning on her husband. You sit awkwardly on a chair beside the bed, listening to her crying. Death stands at the foot of the child's bed, silent, the picturesque Grim Reaper waiting to collect someone's soul.

But he's clearly not here to do so just yet. It's not time. He's waiting, and he's here to see if you're going to do anything to buy the girl some time.

You sigh and give the family their options, as best as you can.

"Here's my suggestion," you say, after you've told them about the Fountain of Youth and the Crossroads Deal. "We buy some time for you daughter, and then one of you travels to Far Far Away. There are more witches there, ones who can help with restoring health. This isn't my usual line of work, so I can't make your daughter magically well."

"Can you search for us?" the father asks.

"I'm afraid I'm already trying to search for someone else's problem," you say, and his face falls. These people have no knowledge of where to find witches when they've lived in a place so derived of them, and with so little time to save their daughter,  you can understand their anxiety.

You glance towards the girl. In the corner of your eye, you notice Death raising an eyebrow. You sigh.

"Okay," you say. "I'll…try to look for someone who can help." You try not to look at the couple's bright smiles as you take out your spellbook (you guess it really is yours now) to flip for the page to the Fountain of Youth. 

As you walk the couple through the steps for the spell, you try to ignore Death's gaze bearing down on you.

-

You grab lunch on the road so you can start your search into Elrick's affair first. Death had left after the Fountain of Youth exchange, and you relax at the sudden freedom from his judging stare. You start with interrogating Muffet about everything she knows about the situation, asking for names and addresses of her sources, and then go to investigate those sources afterwards.

By sunset, you think you have a decent grasp of the picture. The family you're dealing with is some old money bloodline that used to sell fabric to Duloc's old royalty. Ever since the collapse of the Farquaad line, they've been struggling to keep afloat, and are not entertaining commoners getting involved with their daughter. As some of the people you've interviewed are staff or family members of staff who work at this estate, you think the news of the girl being sent away in a tower is pretty reliable.

So that's a bust, as you'd thought it would be. No way you're getting her back to Poisonapple in nine days. Finding the original spellcaster to break the curse might just be as difficult, as according to everyone, the spindle that Elrick pricked himself on was just a regular spinning wheel. 

Magic. With all its clauses and implications and high specifications. The curse was probably something like as long as he pricks himself on something sharp and didn't really need a spindle. Kinda like how your curse needs words to be worded as a command, because requests never work. 

Well, you're heading to Far Far Away, you suppose. First to find a witch that can help with restoring health and another with a specialty in analyzing intricate spellwork to find a loophole. There has to be one. They used to televise princess christenings, and everyone saw the mess that happened with Sleeping Beauty. 

You grab dinner at the pub and pack up what little belongings you have, check that your weapons are in top shape in case you meet trouble on the road, and head out.

One day down, eight more remaining.

-

Far Far Away is several days away from Poisonapple and is terribly…loud. Loud and bright and bombastic. You're no stranger to bustling cities - you've worked many a job at Del Mar and their rambunctious parties. But Far Far Away is…

Well, there's 3d magical ads on billboards about perfumes and cheeses and all sorts of stuff every which way you turn. Bright, moving posters are plastered on every surface you can find. Television screens blast shows from the display windows you pass by. You've been in cities, but Far Far Away is a city-city.

Which means as soon as you start asking for a witch, several hundred people immediately start pulling you in several different directions.

"Would you like to get your future told? I can tell you your future career for a cheap price! And if you get the premium package, I can tell you what your future spouse is like -"

"She's a fraud! Don't listen to her, she ain't even a witch, she's a fortune teller. Now you follow me, lovely, I'm a witch, and if you get the Gold Plan of my services - "

"You're the fraud. None'a you lot even know what a fuckin' witch is anymore. I'm the actual witch here, descended from a long bloodline of -"

"Nobody gives a shit about your ma or your ma's ma and whatever broom they rode in."

"Why you - !"

It takes you thirty minutes to escape their grabbing hands and sprint away from their vicinity. Far Far Away, it turns out, has a thriving magical community, and a 'witch district', as locals call it. It's a long stretch of road that's nothing but magic shops, with sellers of magical items (both real and fake) and all sorts of magic users.

But you don't need a fortune teller, or whoever's gonna sell you which premium plan of their services. You need someone who can help a sick child, preferably a witch who specializes in herb or sky magic, and someone who can deconstruct a curse, which means you're looking for a wizard. Or a mage with a specificity in curse magic. Depends on who you can find, you're not picky. You've arrived at Far Far Away at noon, day four of your nine-day deadline; you've only got so many hours to spare.

You check in at the cheapest inn you can find, get a map of the city, and begin your usual interviewing. You introduce yourself as a traveler, sent in by your relatives to find a cure for your sick baby sister. There are a lot of fake magic users in town, you know that - it's a tourist town, after all - so hopefully, this will help narrow down your pool of options. 

The innkeeper is nice enough to mark your map to show you shops he personally trusts. Several of them, unfortunately, are inventory shops, and only about six of them are for magic users. You thank him for his time anyway, and spend the next few hours visiting one shop after the other. 

The inventory shops are legitimate, as far as you can tell, but their wares are more on the safe, legal side (so nobody can start slinging curses at each other). As for the people you visit, only two of them are of any help. One is a specialist in potions, the other in Earth magic. Close enough to what you were looking for.

They both know each other too, which is convenient. You invite them to dinner to discuss your problem and hope that the hefty chunk of your savings (and the girl's family's promise of free seamstress services) will be enough to persuade them to help you.

At six o'clock, both of them close down shop and meet you at The Wooden Eye, a small pub in the quieter side of town. You buy them drinks and food, hoping to get on their good side, before you recount to them exactly what's happened in Poisonapple that you need their help with.

Gertrude, the potions specialist, falls silent after your tale. Madeleine, the earth witch, puts a hand over her mouth as concern flits across her face.

"Oh, dear," she says. "I…am not sure how much I can help outside of advising them on dietary needs as supplements."

"Isn't Earth magic Life magic?" you ask.

"It is, but we still have specializations. It's not a catch-all thing. I work with plants, how to use them for divination, for healing, for protection. I make hex bags, talismans, healing poultices." She sighs. "I can't completely upturn a child's biological disposition, and thorough healing isn't my specialty. You need a sky witch for that."

"I can help make potions to keep the kid going for a bit, but it's not a permanent cure. It'll be like…taking vitamins, daily treatments." She shrugs. "Sort of like what Maddie can do."

"No, no, that's plenty of help," you say. "She can have a long life with steady treatment, yes?"

Both girls turn to each other. They nod, and say, "Yes."

You breathe out a sigh of relief. That's wonderful news. Better than you can ask for. You just need to convince them to help.

"Would you be amicable for travel?" you ask.

You need them to talk to the family in Poisonapple so they can have their own arrangement. You're a mercenary, after all, not an errand runner. You're gonna pick up a long job somewhere far one day, and you're not gonna be there as their middle man. You offer to pay for their fare back to the village, hand them a map and some instructions, and they thankfully, thankfully, agree.

Now for Elrick.

"I suppose you wouldn't know any wizards in town?" you ask. "I still have one other person I'm here on a job for."

"Last wizard who lived here moved far down the south continent to take care of her mom," Gertrude says. "What do you need help with? Maybe someone else in town can do it."

"I need a curse broken but we can't find the original spellcaster. True Love's Kiss is out of the options too," you say, taking a sip of your drink. "Some kid got cursed by a rich family for getting too close to their daughter."

Both of them wince.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll need a wizard to deconstruct the curse," Madeleine says. "Ain't there a mage at the Forbidden Forest though, Gerry?"

"He doesn't work with curses." Gertrude shakes her head, and to you, says: "Sorry."

"It's fine," you say. You have several leads anyway, all you need to do is chase them. You can pay a visit to the Forbidden Forest tomorrow.

You and the girls finish up your meal before you bid each other goodbye. You leave the pub, hunt down the nearest expedited magic mail service you can find to send a message to both families you're on the job for. Good news for the little girl's family, and a lead for Elrick's.

Hopefully the young boy's brother and father can be patient just a bit longer. Four days down, three left.

taglist:

@karenbomi @snail-noodle @allthenamesithinkofaretaken @lunamaye @lennnnnnnnn @nixeustheclamity @livdem1human @elasticelaine @mooncutiepie @lyslvnchry @spiritofboredom @kult-o @fuckthepatriachs @leoneisdying @briddy13 @barnesmorningstar25 @bitchadonis @charafrisk1 @crypticmushroom @kittycatcreatster @lumiiiiiiiiii

[nurgletwh]

*pokes head up*

*sees the world still exists*

Huh. Look at that.

On a more serious note, having essentially dropped off the face of the earth from the perspective of almost everyone who's following me here or my works on AO3, I am alive. This was not in any great danger of changing any more than the normal (one can always get hit by a bus, for example), but it turns out I haven't been well.

My first clues probably should have been long before I found myself sleeping eighteen hours a day for 'no damn good reason,' but since there were also some extremely difficult and terrifying weeks at work and the stress that goes with it, it crept up on me.

Unlike previous times I've disappeared, it wasn't related to my mental health this time. Not that it's any better, really, because it turns out that my diabetes was creeping out of control. I wasn't monitoring the way I should have been, and I missed a doctor's appointment without rescheduling (which is terrible when you have ADHD, because fucking remembering to call someone to reschedule is damn near impossible).

Anyhow.

It turns out that chronic high blood sugar makes a person feel all sorts of crappy in vague and indistinct ways that, in and of themselves, don't really trigger a sense of 'something is wrong, I should see a doctor.' It just leaves me feeling 'bleah' and 'ugh' and unable to do anything but sleep when I stop moving.

I am so far behind on anything and everything fun. I owe everyone who has a pending comment on my works a deep and heartfelt apology. I didn't mean to disappear. I know several of you have been worried, and it turns out at least semi-rightfully so. Not that there was much any of you could do about it, which really just makes it feel worse. I apologize for any stress and worry this may have caused. I can't promise to never do it again, unfortunately, because I am:

a) human b) a human with ADHD, and c) a human who is horrible at keeping up with communication the way she should.

I want to do better; I will try to do better. I have actually managed to continue writing, albeit at an exceptionally reduced rate. That's picked up markedly in the last week or so now that my meds have been adjusted. Hopefully, it continues to pick up. However, I don't think things are quite where they need to be based on my personal blood sugar testing, but it's a strong improvement. I still don't have much energy, but when I get home after work and sit down, I only sleep for forty-five minutes to an hour, not four followed by crawling into bed for the night and still not feeling rested in the morning.

I hope to start working my way through my inbox on AO3. If you're following me here and see this before I get to your comment, hi! ♥ Know that I have read them all and they give me sparks of joy to think about, but I have been very emphatically squashing any guilt at my non-response for now. Feeling guilty is a potent anti-motivator for someone with ADHD. It makes a growing mountain that I can run away from like an Olympic sprinter, which means that the only way I will successfully get back on track is to not feel guilty or compelled, which is the opposite of how it works for many folk.

I also seem to have gotten into some fucked-up screwy mindset where my brain is telling me I have to have something ready to post (or nearly so) before I can answer comments now. Which is just... wrong. So very, very wrong. I'm working on that, too. Blood sugar fixing first, however.

Take care, everyone. I've definitely been thinking about all of you and have seriously missed having the conversations and speculations that go with successfully generating writing but also require successfully responding to comments. It's been a seriously sucky couple of months; here's hoping things improve.

♥

[dragonfly0808]

Some of my Top Ships for Valentine’s Day!

This was supposed to be like 5 ships but shit got a little bit out of hand…

In no particular order:

Helia x Flora (Winx Club): they were my first OTP, it’s a classic, we know it, we love it, they invented the word adorkable. They are just… chef’s kiss

Callum x Rayla (the Dragon Prince): they are… my everything. From their very first interaction I was like… oh. They just balance each other out so well and it’s so much fun to watch them fall in love and grow together even if there have been a few… bumps in the road recently… they are my babies.

Runaan x Ethari (the Dragon Prince): WHERE IS MY SPIN OFF?! I NEED TO SEE HOW THESE TWO FELL IN LOVE! They just… the second Ethari was introduced these two had my heart and I just… I can’t even describe what it is about them that just gets me right there.

Lizzie x Daring (Ever After High): I said what I said. No regrets. Should’ve been endgame. You don’t get it, they get to be their real selfs when they’re with each other! The fucking potential! We only got 5 min in the webisodes and like a few dialogues in the books but they will forever live rent free in my brain.

Zuko x Katara (Avatar): …was this one predictable? I feel like this one was predictable, it just made so much sense with their respective characters, story lines and everything about them was just set up so perfectly but just never paid off. But yeah… these two were PERFECTION, up until they didn’t end up together somehow.

Percy x Annabeth (Percy Jackson): Come on, this is THE ship. I apologize in advance for the person I will become when the show comes out cause I’ll only be talking about them for a very long time.

Luka x Marinette (Miraculous Ladybug): You don’t understand how much I mean it when I say that I will go down with this ship. Luka is just… the cutest? And like… Marinette? Being supported? Being loved? Getting to have someone on her side that doesn’t feel like she owes them anything? Is this a potential OTP? Yes, yes it is.

Inej x Kaz (Six of Crows): I don’t think I have to say anything here. These two are just… wow. They would both kill for each other and… I love that it’s not an ‘I can fix them’ relationship, it’s a ‘I will change and be better for them’ relationship and I just…they are the pinnacle of romance.

Raven x Beast Boy (Teen Titans/Comics): Come on… do I have to say anything else? These two were made for each other! They understand each other in a way that almost no one else can, they both have dark sides that could take them over but they fight it, be it in different ways. And I just… they deserved so much more.

Mateo x Rufus (They Both Die at the End): If you haven’t read this book… it’s one of my faves but you shouldn’t read it unless you’re in a somewhat stable mental place ajajjajajja. But these two were just… ugh. I usually despise insta-love with every inch of my being but it worked so well for these two I just- AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH

Sophie x Gideon (Shadowhunters: Infernal Devices): These two I feel like are underrated in the fandom. Like, come on! In my personal opinion, they have the best love story in Shadowhunters. I’ve loved them since I was 9 and they are just so… they are just so good with each other? I love them. Every single moment of their relationship slaps.

Ron x Hermione (Harry Potter): They invented hesitant friends to friends to best friends to lovers. And they were done so wrong in the movies. Can anyone recommend me fics with them as the central focus? The Harry Potter part of AO3 is a fucking mess and I’ve found like two and I need more!

Luz x Amity / Hunter x Willow / Eda x Raine (The Owl House): How the fuck did a single show give me 3 new OTP’s? I’ve got no fucking idea but somehow they did it. I adore this show, I cannot wait for the finale. All the love stories are just… top tier just… wow. Lumity are the perfect enemies to lovers arc, Huntlow are just… so cute and perfect and of course we have Eda and Raine who are just iconic and IF I DON’T GET A KISS I AM GOING TO-

Wednesday x Tyler (Wednesday): COME AT ME BRO (please don’t), I love when people say they shouldn’t be together cause *SPOILERS* like… this is Wednesday Adams we’re talking about, if anything it makes it better! I love this ship. Their dynamic is just superior to me. Crazy x different kind of crazy? Perfection.

Charles Xavier x Erik (X-men): X-MEN WERE FUCKING COWARDS. That’s all I’ll say about that. I deserved so much better.

Rarity x Apple Jack (Equestria Girls): My fave sapphics, they were girlfriends. Farm girl x fashionista? Fucking genius. The aesthetics and dynamics are just perfect. The heavens open up and you can hear the choir when there’s a plot line revolving around their… ‘friendship’.

Nam-ra x Su-hyeok (All of us are dead): They are just… so fucking precious? He runs towards zombies to protect her and they are both crushing on each other from a distance, trying not to be obvious and it is so cute and so precious and just… I can’t wait for s2.

Stiles x Lydia (Teen Wolf): I’m not watching the movie. I refuse to. These two had 14 year old me in a choke hold.

Barry x Caitlin (The Flash): yes, I’m that person. Seasons 1-4 I still held on to hope. I love these two, just two nerds supporting each other and being THE team. This was truly so much potential.

Sarah x Leonard (Legends of Tomorrow): *sobs* they were just… so unexpected but they also made so much sense?

Hiccup x Astrid (How to Train Your Dragon): They were my obsession for a good while, Race to the Edge gave me way too much serotonin. I cried violently watching the last movie I just- they were so good. Their whole character development in Race to the Edge? Absolute fucking hold.

Winter x Jacin (The Lunar Chronicles): These two are just… childhood best friends to lovers, I’d kill and die for you, we know we love each other but we’ll never admit it and just be teaseful and then when they finally kiss it’s just so intense I was fucking fainting. I love them.

Dominick x Erika (Barbie, The Princess and the Pauper): They invented romance and they are the only insta-love love story that I will accept.

Robin x Regina (Once Upon a Time): I will die angry. Srly, they were just… perfect for each other? The definition of true love and they understood each other, Robin was so good for her and he believed so much in her and they loved each other in such a pure way and just… also they were just hot as fuck together I mean, they had me questioning my sexuality.

Starfire x Robin/Nightwing (Teen Titans/DC Comics/DC Movies): I don’t even know how to describe the amount of serotonin these two give me, they just make sense to me and I love them.

Kid Flash x Jinx (Teen Titans): They had 1 episode and they made history.

Artemis x Kid Flash (Young Justice): …I’m still waiting… fuck me… THEY WERE JUST SO FUCKING GOOD AAAAAAAHHHHHH- The way they annoyed each other but slowly grew to trust each other and then became friends and you can’t even pin point the exact moment they start falling in love because it just happens so naturally and so organically and it’s just- AAAAAHHHHHHHH

Impulse x Blue Beetle (Young Justice): Bart is in love with Jaimie and he is not subtle about it at all. Jaimie is a bit oblivious but you know that he is just as much in love if not even more

Jonathan x Nancy (Stranger Things): I swear yall’ if they really redo the triangle next season, I’m going to riot cause these two, their story is so well done in the first 3 seasons and it’s just like… what the fuck ya know?

Mike x Eleven (Stranger Things): I don’t care what anyone says, I still love them.

Lucas x Max (Stranger Things): …ow? I honestly don’t know what else to say.

Ben x Evie/Harry x Uma (Descendants): YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT, DID YOU WATCH CHILLIN LIKE A VILLAIN/WHAT’S MY NAME?! THE CHEMISTRY WAS LITERALLY DRIPPING OFF OF THEM. HE WAS SO HAPPY EVERYTIME HE SAW HER AND THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN GOLD TOGETHER.

Lucas x Maya (Girl Meets World): I am so tired… these two were just… so good together, the chemistry, the story line, Maya accepting the ‘bad’ side of Lucas in a way that Riley never did and him just being there for her no matter what ‘I could never hurt you’ I just… why?

Veronica x JD (Heathers the Musical): Listen… hear me out… I know that he was kinda crazy but… they were kind of an iconic duo okay? Freeze Your Brain? Dead Girl Walking? Our Love Is God? Seventeen? Meant to Be Yours? I Am Damaged? Sorry was I… not supposed to ship them after listening to those? I love them. I’m allowed to have at least one kinda-toxic-if-you-think-about-it-ship.

Juliette x Warner (Shatter Me): They created sexual tension. Every single scene slaps and their arc is just perfect and I love them and they are just… they are so intense but in the best way possible.

[ancientgreecehistorynerd]

hi moottt how was ur day?

i have some bookish questions for u bc why not

-what is ur favourite genre of literature?

-what are your top 5 favourite books?

-what are your top 3 favourite authors?

-do you have a favourite book character? if so, who are they? (feel free to list more than one)

-what is your favourite romance trope?

-what do you like to see in a main character?

-what are your thoughts on queer literature?

-what is a bookish pet peeve you have?

-do you like to purchase books, borrow them, or read them online?

-do you often read books translated from other countries?

thats all for now :) have a nice day

hello! i’m doing okay in the middle of moving tho so stressful haha

help did i never answer this? i’m sorry i’m actually tumblr illiterate like crazy

My fav genre is probably hm… def fiction haha young adult and contemporary…? it said those were genres i’m so sorry i don’t know the names of them and i’m an anxious mess! but if it’s got gay people and mental illness i’ll take it. i like dystopian as well!

top five NOT IN ORDER LOL

-girl in pieces by kathleen glasgow

-solitaire by alice oseman

-radio silence by alice oseman

-the perks of being a wallflower by soeben chbosky

-blood of olympus by rick riordan

(they change all the time haha)

-for authors i would def say

-rick riordan

-alice oseman (obv)

-and hm i haven’t read more than one of glasgows books so possibly suzzanne collins maybe? AUGHH IM SO INDECISIVE! (i do have fav fanfic authors tho haha)

NICO DI ANGELO THE SON OF HADES AND WILL SOLACE THE SON OF APOLLO THEYRE FROM RICK RIORDANS GREEK DEMIGODS SERIES(S) AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE MY SPECIAL INTETEST THEIR COOL AS FUCK AND HE IS SO ME I AM SO THEM THEYRE MY EVERYTHING AND I LOVE THEM MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF (wait that’s not a good comparison uhh) I LOVE THEM MORE THEN FOOD ITSELF 🗣️

as someone who is demiromantic i’ve got to say friends to lovers since nothing else makes sense in my mind haha other then that hurt/comfort and just being domestic are UGH love it! SUNSHINE X GRUMPY as well. I eat it up everytime.

i love when main characters are similar to me so mentally ill gay very sad etc etc lol but besides that i would say complex? i hate it when authors make “i’m so happy all the time” characters the main character like i need DEPTH where’s the FLAVOR. so i suppose just not being perfect?

there needs to be more of it lol. i’m loving how much of it is being made to day but tbh in my opinion some authors do it wrong… i love when being queer is a major part of a characters personality because well they’re proud! but it’s when an author makes the entire character based off of that with no other personality traits. sexualizing queer relationships too like…. yikes! would love to see some more aroace and genderqueer rep that isn’t just boy/nb/girl tho!

when endings are rushed! it’s terrible i remember i loved this one book when i was younger that had the og “i’m nothing like y’all” as the cover haha. i forget what it was called sorry! but there was a great story and then it ended with her friends saying “sorry for excluding you and they went on to win the state math fair!” what. YOU JUST HAD A FULLY FLESHED OUT STORY AND YOU DID THAT??? i’m sure nobody likes them but they especially piss me off. skipping over important scenes as well and just showing the aftermath! non floppy books. FIX ITTTTT. also tbh smut? i mean i don’t mind it but that’s what ao3 is for i’m fine with the smut where they don’t show it like in charlie and nicks first time in heartstopper where it’s just kinda vague but as soon as i see a dick beint described im OUT. and books that just are smut like dude there’s so many better things you could be writing about!

ngl i am a massive book purchaser. i used to get them all from the library but thennn i got a bookshelf and discovered what annotating is… i just love being able to go back on what i’ve read whenever i want! and the covers are pretty :)

no actually! i don’t think i ever have tbh? i think the only time that happened was when i translated an official nico di angelo short story from italian haha

thank you if you listened to my yap! also i’m so sorry i didn’t see this :( also if i already responded to this and i forgot you can just kill me please and thank you. also have a good day too so sorry i didn’t see this! :(

[skzhocomments]

I can read your smile - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 1 - Looking for a place

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2

---

Chapter 1 - Looking for a place

chapter word count: 3.1k words

~Third person POV~

"So you left just like that?" Jinki laughed.

"Yes! One more minute with Minho and I would've fucking killed him!"

"Wh-"

"And before you ask-" Kibum turned to Minho. "It's your mere presence that annoys the shit out of me. Just seeing you walk across the living room- ugh!" Key cut him off and grimaced. "Ugh." He repeated, as if suddenly remembering a horrible thing, and shuddered.

"Come on, just tell them the truth!!! You bought an apartment!" Minho whined.

"While that's also true, I also can't stand living with you anymore."

"Fine! Move out then!" Minho scoffed, annoyed.

"Are these the early stages of a divorce?" Taemin asked with a slight chuckle.

"What divorce?"

"We aren't married."

Key and Minho both replied at the same time, making Jinki and Taemin laugh. The boys were seated at their usual table in the cafeteria, eating lunch. Their university had a fixed 9-15:30 program with a 1-hour lunch break from 13:00 to 14:00, followed by a last class.

It became a habit of theirs to meet up daily, even if all of them studied different majors, or were in different years. Jinki was the oldest, and he was in his final year, the fifth, studying mechanical engineering, a difficult field he was passionate about. Key and Minho were both in the 4th year, with Key studying a combo of business and design, and Minho being a business major. He was getting the best education he could to assist in his family's business once he finished his degree. Taemin was also a business major, but he was in 2nd year.

"So anyway- what I'm saying is, now I have to find a new roommate because Key abandoned me." Minho shook his head and scowled.

"Why?" Key laughed. "It's not like you need the rent money."

"Right. Why do you want to live with someone else so badly?" Jinki inquired as well.

"I just... like it when the house is not empty, I guess." He shrugged and took a bite of his food.

"Then get a girlfriend and move in with her." Key rolled his eyes and stated this, as if it were an obvious solution.

"He's married to football." Jinki stated.

"And the gym." Taemin added.

"And he's insufferable." Key finished the point while sipping his strawberry juice with a straw.

---

"Morning!" Crystal sat down in her chair, throwing her backpack on her school desk. Thankfully classes started at 9, but she still found it a bit too early. She wished she could sleep in more.

Unfortunately, this was not a possibility, so she relied on the cup of coffee she managed to half-dunk before running out of the house to get to her class in time.

"Morning!" Everyone replied to the girl in unison.

"How's your quest going?" One of the girls behind her, Lydia, asked.

Lydia was a tall and slim girl with brown, silky hair, and a matching pair of hazelnut brown eyes. Her lips were always painted in a subtle glittery shine, and her eyes were contrasted by a smokey eyeshadow look. She seemed unfriendly at first, even quite mean at times, but once you got to know her, you'd realise she was a very sweet girl who just had to toughen up to face the world.

"Quest? What quest?" Taemin raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, confused. He's been Crystal's desk mate for a while now, wasn't he supposed to know things too?

"Oh, Crystal's been looking for a new apartment." Lydia reapplied her gloss and spoke nonchalantly.

"Yea, I'm getting kicked out in 2 weeks." Crystal frowned.

"No way! Why?" Lydia's deskmate, Jude, asked, as confused as Taemin.

This was their usual group – Crystal, Taemin, Jude and Lydia. All of them ended up in a group project in the first year since they were desk mates, and figured out they get along quite well, so they kept to their small entourage and became close, one could say even friends.

"The owner decided to sell." Crystal sighed deeply. She was in deep shit, and she kinda resented Lydia for reminding her of this.

"What? Why haven't you told me?" Taemin asked, hurt, almost with a whine. He was easily affected by people not confiding in him, especially if he's confided in them before, and he did; out of their small group of friends, he was the closest to Crystal, and they spent many late nights on the phone discussing his problems.

Never hers – he noticed bluntly once again.

She never talked about herself.

"I just found out, Taeminnie. Lydia was just with me when he called yesterday." Crystal clarified, patting the boy's back. She knew how high her walls could get, and she could tell that Taemin wanted to ask more, but instead, they just shared a short glance and her smile reassured him that she's okay.

"That's so shitty of him. In the middle of the semester, too. How are you supposed to find a new place?!" Jude complained loudly, chewing on some piece of gum – peppermint flavoured.

Jude was the princess type. She grew up surrounded by all sorts of riches, since she was the only child of a big conglomerate owner. He spoiled her rotten, but she figured out early on in life that she doesn't want to rely on daddy's money forever. She wanted to do something more, using her own powers. She wanted to start her own fashion brand and make it successful without banking on her father's name.

"No idea." Crystal sighed. She hasn't even started looking yet, but the situation was dire. Money was scarce, rooms or apartments in the winter months were scarcer.

"2 weeks notice should be illegal." Jude scoffed.

"Tell me about it!"

"I actually have a friend who's been looking for a roommate. Maybe... it could work out and you could move in with him?" Taemin started, before Lydia intervened.

"A him? Taemin, dear, don't set Crystal up for being abused." Lydia intervened.

"Abused?! He would never-"

"Let's not get haste." Crystal spoke. "It doesn't matter if it's a she or a he. No one's gonna abuse anyone."

"You have too much faith in people." Lydia retorted, and Crystal knew it was coming from a place of hurt. Lydia's been wounded before. She knew, without having to ask her about it. She pieced it together during their talks in-between study sessions, and she knew at least a bit of the extent to which Lydia has trusted someone else, who ended up hurting her really badly.

It was hard for her to trust others.

"This is a crisis!" Jude spoke, loudly again. She somehow seemed the most disturbed by this, even if it had practically nothing to do with her.

"Anyways," Crystal interrupted them all, "how much is he charging?"

---

"Hmm, a friend of yours, you say? Do I know him?" Minho smiled, tying his shoes. Taemin went to see him before his football practice specifically so they could talk about this pressing matter.

Crystal needed help, and he wanted to help somehow. It was the first time he felt he could be of use to her, so he made it his #1 mission to make this work somehow.

"She's a girl. And no, I don't think so. She's my desk mate, but she's not really... the type of person you'd associate with, I guess."

"What do you mean by that?" Minho raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... she's not really... her family's not rich or anything." He tried explaining, but stumbled on his words. He knew Crystal worked at a restaurant somewhere, but he realised he knew next to nothing about her private life otherwise. Did her family live here, and if they did, why didn't she live with them?

He felt like a bad friend.

"You think I only associate with rich people?" Minho chuckled. This type of things never mattered to him. It was true, he was more fortunate than most, being born with a diamond spoon in his mouth, but he never let money be a deciding factor in what type of people he kept around him.

"It's not that... but she works a lot and doesn't really hang out or anything. I'm just saying it would be surprising if you knew her." Taemin tried explaining, and he was glad that Minho didn't seem to want to ask anything more.

"Hmm. I see." Minho hummed.

A girl was not exactly his idea of a new roommate, but if what Taemin said was true, she was the type of person who would move in with him because she needed the place, not because it was him. That was comforting in a way. It would also fill the void of Key's absence, because what Minho hated more than anything was an empty apartment.

"So? How much do you charge?" Taemin asked after a few seconds.

"Well, the apartment complex is, as you know, right next to the campus. A room in my complex usually starts at 750$, but... let's say, maybe, 500$?"

---

"500?!" Crystal exclaimed.

"Well, it's right next to campus..."

"Wow. I mean, yea, it's a good deal, but... sorry Taeminnie, you wasted your time." Crystal frowned. "I barely earn 500$ with tips, so..."

"Oh." Taemin stood silent for a moment. He had no idea how much she made. As Minho said, the price for a room here could start at 750$ and no one would bat an eye, but it was apparently a life-changing sum for Crystal, that she couldn't afford.

"I'm sorry." Crystal patted his shoulder. "And thank you for asking, really."

"Don't. I haven't done anything..." Taemin's expression saddened. He wasn't able to help her with anything, after all.

"Of course you did! You asked your friend, and he was offering a really good price for the area, it's just that it's out of my budget. But you helped a lot!" The girl praised Taemin, trying to be her cheerful self.

What did she expect? Obviously Taemin wouldn't have a friend with an apartment that she could afford.

Still, that was not his fault, and she didn't want him to feel bad for things out of his control. He did his best.

---

~4 days later~

"I really like today's pork chop." Minho said while munching on his food, grabbing a spoonful of rice as well.

"Yea, and the soup is great." Jinki added while he ate happily, like a little kid.

"By the way, what happened with your girl friend who was looking for an apartment?" Minho raised his head to look at Taemin. Ever since that talk a few days ago, he hasn't heard anything anymore.

"Wait, does Taemin have a girlfriend? Which one?" Key asked shocked and started looking around the cafeteria.

"No, dummy." Minho laughed. "Girl friend as in a friend who is a girl."

"Great phrasing, dumbass." Key rolled his eyes.

"Oh, she said it's a great offer and thanked you, but she refused." Taemin took a bite of his food. He got sad once again for not being able to help more, and he absent mindedly glanced over Crystal's table. She was, as usual, seated with Jude and Lydia, and her back was turned to him.

"Rejected even outside a relationship." Jinki spoke, earning a side glare from Minho.

"But why?" Minho couldn't help but ask. Taemin seemed really eager to find out if he would want her as a roommate.

"Too expensive." Taemin clarified.

To that, Minho didn't know what to say. 500$ meant nothing to him, and to most people in this cafeteria.

"Who was it, though? The one who rejected Minho." Key grinned.

"The girl in the floral sundress at that table. Her name's Crystal." Taemin spoke and pointed out to the girl with the back turned on them, sitting a few tables over.

---

"An apple again?" Jude frowned.

"You know the saying... an apple a day keeps the doctor away!" Crystal smiled.

"You can't keep eating just an apple for lunch every day. How do you have energy?" Jude asked in a worried tone.

"Hard will." Crystal shrugged. "Don't worry, if my body needed anything else, I would've eaten it."

A lie.

She did feel hungry most times, but that was okay. Hunger pangs came in overwhelming waves only late at night, if the restaurant was especially busy and she wouldn't have time to munch on anything.

"She's right, you know?" Lydia spoke while eating the cafeteria's lunch. She changed subjects quickly enough, with a follow-up question. "Are you browsing apartments again?"

"Mhm." Crystal frowned. "I have to move out in exactly 10 days and still have no idea where I'll go."

"You really didn't find anything?" Jude bent over the table trying to glance into Crystal's phone. "Your screen's broken."

"Nah. Everything in my price range is crap." Crystal chuckled and ignored the comment about her phone. She didn't have money to replace it right now, anyway.

"How can you even laugh in that situation? I would stress myself out to no end!" Jude exclaimed.

"You're so dramatic." Lydia rolled her eyes at her desk mate.

"Well, I am stressed out, but besides looking at advertisements, what can I do? Adding more stress is pointless."

"See? She has it all figured out." Lydia added and smiled at Crystal, feeling proud that she was keeping herself together so well.

"I wish I had your resolve." Jude said. "If you don't find anything in 10 days, you can always move in with me until you find something."

"I would never." Crystal chuckled. "I don't want to disturb you."

"You wouldn't!" Jude jumped in immediately, and then her attention shifted somewhere behind Crystal, and she started waving. Crystal, curious as she is, turned her head around and saw Taemin waving at them enthusiastically.

Then, he gestured towards her and asked her to come over.

Weird. She thought. He was with his other group of friends, and he's never asked any of them to join him before. But still, she got up and took her half-eaten apple – the only lunch of the day – and headed towards Taemin. She didn't recognise any of the men at the table, but then again, she didn't really know anyone outside the people from her class, so that wasn't so surprising.

"Crystal! You're shining today as usual!" Taemin complimented the girl and ushered her to sit down next to him, taking her into a side hug as soon as she sat down.

"Oh, shut up!" She chuckled and hugged him back. He would always make small jokes at her name, telling her she shines like a Crystal, and she would always find them funny and laugh, because Taemin was the only one who didn't make fun of her maliciously. He genuinely found the name funny.

Kids when she was younger would poke fun at the fact that she was poor and had such an unfitting name-

"Everyone, this is my friend and desk mate, Crystal. Crystal, this next to me is Kibum, and in front of us are Jinki and Minho." Taemin interrupted her train of thoughts, and she focused on the names of his friends, trying to remember them as much as she could.

"Pleasure to meet you." She showed her sweet smile, and the boys returned her pleasantries.

"So, how's your apartment hunt going?" Taemin asked.

"Oh, is that why you wanted me to come here?" Crystal chuckled nervously.

"Yea."

"We could've talked in class." She smiled, and Taemin felt as if she was scolding him. Still, she replied. "It's not really going anywhere. I saw a few rooms yesterday but no luck so far."

"Were they ugly?"

"Very! Some of them were full of mold, or had an active cockroach infestation-"

"Ew!" Taemin grimaced at the thought of cockroaches. He hated all insects with a passion.

"Right?! I saw at least 5 and I took two steps inside. I'm scared to death of them!"

"Me too! They are horrible, and their little legs-"

"What's your budget?" Minho asked all of a sudden, interrupting Taemin and taking Crystal by surprise. She almost forgot other people were at the table, with how one-sided the conversation's been. Taemin excluded all of them from the start, when he asked her something personal his friends had no interest in knowing.

"Uhm..." Crystal tucked her hair behind her right ear, a bad habit she wanted to get rid of that showed she was uncomfortable.

"Taemin said 500$ is over the budget." Minho pressed.

"Oh." Crystal laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed. "You must be the friend with the apartment, then."

"Yea, he's the guy I told you about." Taemin confirmed.

"How much have you been paying until now?"

"Well, I was paying 200$, but with how much the market exploded, I could go to maybe 250$ with utilities. Would still be a bit over, but manageable if I cut a few more costs." She absent-mindedly looked at the apple. Obviously, an apple wouldn't be making a dent through her savings, but she thought in horror how many dinners she'd start skipping once she paid 50$ more monthly, especially on nights when she didn't work.

If she worked, the restaurant would usually cover one meal at least.

"Okay." Minho nodded and crossed his arms. "Are you a tidy person?"

"Huh?" She raised her eyebrows. This question took her by surprise.

"She's the tidiest person!" Taemin exclaimed. "Always spotless! You should see her notes, and how she arranges her pens on the table!"

"That sounds like OCD-" Key started before Taemin elbowed his side.

"Okay, then how about 150$?"

"Sorry?" Crystal tilted her head.

"I'm asking you if 150$ would be a good price for you to move in with me."

"150$? But-"

"Yea, I just want to move in with someone after my dear Kibum left me dry." Minho glanced at Key.

"Still, from 500$ to 150$... you'd certainly find someone else to pay you even more..." Crystal chuckled.

"He doesn't need money." Jinki shrugged.

"So? Is that okay? Should we go see the apartment after class?" Minho insisted.

Crystal found him pushy, but still, she agreed with an uncertain nod, so he took out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it over to the girl.

"Your number?" He smiled, and she looked at Taemin unsure, who just nodded and smiled back at her.

She grabbed the phone and typed in her number, then gave it back to Minho.

"I'll message you later." He said, then took his empty tray and got up from the table.

---

Chapter 2

[roxyjean82btsoneshots]

The Set

The Set ✏️Taehyung x Reader ✏️Fluff oneshot 📖WC: 1604 🛑 18+

Also on Ao3 and Wattpad

My Masterlist

"Y/n, Mr. Kim wants to see you in his trailer." You heard your assistant say in your earpiece.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"The one that's been eyeballing you since we started shooting."

"He has not." You scuffed out and rolled your eyes.

"Okay, keep telling yourself that. Anyways, he said he's having a wardrobe problem and needs you there ASAP."

"Well, I'm kind of busy trying to get this outfit right. Can't someone else do it?"

"Nope. He wants to see the head costume designer."

"Ugh, fine, I'll be there in about 5." You groaned as you put down your work and picked up your toolbox. You headed towards the actor's lot. They were supposed to shoot the final scenes today, but it started raining, which you took as a good sign because you weren't happy with one of the wardrobes for the final stage. Something was off with it, and you couldn't figure it out.

Once you found his trailer, you knocked on the door and prayed he would open it quickly so that you could get out of the rain.

"Who is it?" You heard his deep voice say from behind the door.

"Wardrobe department, sir." The door opens to a bright-eyed, smiling Kim Taehyung.

"Oh, you got here a lot faster than I thought you would." He said as he motions with his hand to come in.

"Well, it's part of my job to fix any wardrobe problems as fast as I can." Taehyung handed you a towel as you sat your box down on the table. "Thank you, sir."

"Can you please stop calling me that? It makes me feel old. Call me Taehyung or Tae, please." He smiled at you.

"Okay, sir…I mean Taehyung. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I may have accidentally fallen asleep in my costume, and torn the robe at the seam." He turned his body slightly to show you the hole in the shoulder part of the robe.

"That's an easy fix. You could have just sent it with someone to my trailer," You said as you stepped closer to him to get a better look.

"I know, but I couldn't find anyone. I was going to do it myself, but my manager wouldn't let me." You looked at his face and saw him pouting a little.

"Why are you pouting?" You said with a laugh.

"Because I think it's unfair that you got to walk in the rain, and I didn't."

You laughed a little harder at that. "It's okay, Taehyung. I'm here to help. Plus, there will be other rainy days, and you can walk in them."

"You've got a beautiful laugh." You paused opening your box, your cheeks pinkened.

"Umm, thank you." You cleared your throat and turned to look at him.

"So, how are we going to fix the tear?" Taehyung asked as he looked at the floor and scratched his neck in embarrassment.

"Unless you want to take the chance of getting pricked, you're going to have to take off the robe." Taehyung started to take off his robe, and your mouth went dry.

"Why did you pick those shirts to go under the robes?" You thought to yourself as you caught a glimpse of his muscular chest peeking out through the deep V neckline of the shirt. You tried to look elsewhere, but your eyes got stuck on his muscular bicep as he handed you the robe.

"Thanks." You said as you grabbed the robe quickly before you turned around and got to work.

"So, how long have you been in the costume department?" asked Taehyung as he sat down next to you.

"About five years; I've always loved making things. So here I am, making costumes and helping out with the set design, when needed." You two sat there and talked for the next 30 minutes as you stitched up his robe.

"Good as new." You said with a smile and held up the robe. "Stand over here so that you can try it on, and I can make sure nothing's off." Taehyung nodded as he stood from the table and moved to the spot in front of you. Once he put the robe on you had him turn around so that you could check and see if any of the stitching was off.

"Well, doc, how does it look?"

"Pretty good so far," You said with a chuckle. "Now turn around so that I can see if it messed up the length."

"Are you going to the wrap party tomorrow night?" Taehyung asked as you checked the sleeves.

"I had planned on it. But if it gets pushed back again, I won't be able to."

"Why not?"

"Well, I have a business, and I need to get back to it."

"Oh, really, what kind of business?"

"Pole exercising," You said as you finished up with the sleeves.

"Like you twirl around a pole? That sounds like fun!" As you finished up, you looked up to Taehyung, who had a fascinated look on his face.

"It's really fun," You said with a smile on your face as you turned around to put your stuff away.

"Save a dance for me? I mean, if you go. Please save a dance for me."

"Sure," You said as you picked up your things and turned around. You didn't realize how close he was when you turned around. You were chest to chest with him.

"I want to get to know you more." Taehyung placed a hand on your cheek. "I want to know who you are behind that beautiful smile and a beautiful laugh." Just as your lips were about to touch, you both jumped at the sound of someone knocking at the door.

"Taehyung, we have a meeting in five minutes about the shoot tomorrow." You heard someone yell.

"I should probably go so that you can get ready for the meeting," You said as you backed away and walked around him.

"Y/n, I mean it," he said as you put your hand on the door, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" A small smile formed on his lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow Taehyung." You smiled back as you exited his trailer.

The shoot day was busy. You spent most of your time running in circles, trying to make sure everything was right. You had managed to see Tae once. He was leaning up against a pillar, talking to some of the cast. You watched him quickly lick his lips before he sent you a smile. Feeling your cheeks beginning to blush, you smiled back before going about your tasks.

"The outfit turned out awesome," your assistant said as you both packed up your things before heading out to the party.

"It better have. That thing was a pain in my ass." You both laughed as you exited the trailer and made your way to the party.

"Why does it look like you aren't enjoying yourself?" You jumped at the sudden voice in your ear.

"Jesus Taehyung!" You said, placing a hand over your heart as you try and calm yourself down.

"You scared the shit out of me." You laughed breathily as you swatted at his shoulder.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I am enjoying myself. Just wish they had some better food or drinks."

"Come with me," Taehyung said as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the exit.

"Where are we going? We can't leave."

"It's fine, no one will mind, and we are going to the store down the street for some real food." Taehyung didn't let go of your hand the whole way to the store.

"So what are we getting?" You asked as Taehyung grabbed a basket.

"Whatever looks good." You both wandered around the store for about 30 minutes, just tossing random things into the basket. Once outside, he turned to look at you. "So, where are we eating?"

"I don't know. I thought you had it all planned out."

"Truthfully. I didn't think past the store." You watched him as he tried to figure out what you two were going to do next.

"My apartment is a few blocks away from here." You point in the direction of your home.

"Really?" Taehyung asked with a look of shock on his face.

"Yes. I mean, if it's okay with you, we can eat there." Taehyung nodded as you both moved in the direction of your home.

Once inside, you headed to the kitchen and dumped out the food and drinks you had gotten from the store. You both sat in your small kitchen, just chatting and laughing.

"Taehyung, what are you doing?" You asked as you walked down the hallway from the bathroom. You heard music playing. When you stepped into the kitchen, you saw Taehyung standing in the middle of the room with a massive smile on his face.

"Well, since we left the party before the dancing started." Taehyung stepped closer to you with his hand out. "Y/n, may I have this dance?"

"Yes, you may." Smiling at him, you took his hand. Taehyung pulled you close to his body as you both swayed back and forth to the music.

"I could get used to this."

"Used to what?" You asked as you removed your head from his chest so that you could look at him.

"Holding you in my arms forever."

"Me too." You smiled at him. When Taehyung's lips found yours, they felt like home, and you knew that this feeling would last forever.

END

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Nie Huaisang hasn’t found anyone to do the body sacrifice ritual for him, and so in desperation he tries it himself. However, the ritual was not designed with a Nie cultivator in mind—something Nie Huaisang does not realize until he’s doubled over on the floor, far too close to a qi deviation, because his (admittedly tiny) saber spirit has been replaced with Wei Wuxian.

ao3

Well, that was the dumbest thing ever.

The thought so closely matched Wei Wuxian’s that he didn’t even notice that it wasn’t his own.

How could you be so stupid? Wei Wuxian tried to shout at Nie Huaisang, who was curled up gasping on the floor. The floor, which was stained with Nie Huaisang's own blood, with cuts he had made himself on himself, with the ancient body sacrifice summoning that – that –

Don’t you realize that you’d be gone? You absolute idiot! Wei Wuxian howled, even though he wasn’t actually a person right now. He didn’t know what he was, a ghost or spirit, maybe, but he was there and he was angry and Nie Huaisang’s arms were covered in blood from where he’d cut himself up in order to destroy his own soul – Nie Huaisang, the mincing sensitive little master who would complain for three weeks about having stubbed his toe! – and his robes that he had always taken such great care to keep clean and neat were a mess and he was bleeding from the nose and eyes and ears because something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong, and Wei Wuxian hated to be grateful for it because he didn’t want to be brought back by Nie Huaisang’s death.

Not anyone’s death, really, but definitely not Nie Huaisang, who’d never hurt him or treated him badly. Even when the whole world had hated and reviled Wei Wuxian, isolating him in Yiling on the Burial Mounds, Nie Huaisang hadn’t – he’d waved jauntily to him during Phoenix Mountain, and Wei Wuxian had never doubted that if he’d somehow found his way to Qinghe, Nie Huaisang would have treated him just the same as always.

You – you –! You good-for-nothing!

“Don’t be rude,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, slowly uncurling. “Didn’t bring you back to be rude to me.”

You know what you’ve done, then? You could have died!

“Was I supposed to let someone else do it?” Nie Huaisang rubbed at his face with his sleeve, then frowned at the blood on it. “I thought about it, but I really just – couldn’t.”

So you decided to kill yourself?

“It’s like you said, Wei-xiong. I’m a good-for-nothing. I couldn’t – I can’t – I can’t fix this. So why not bring back someone who can?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have words to express how much that was not all right with him.

Go fix yourself, he ordered. I don't care what 'this' is; I’m not talking to you until you get cleaned up.

“After all that work I did? Wei-xiong…”

Nope! You’re not dying, so you can get cleaned up before we talk, and that’s that. I still can’t believe you nearly – I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt for me.

“Wei-xiong, you’re being silly. Who said I did it for you?”

Wei Wuxian would have stared if he had eyes.

“I did it for me,” Nie Huaisang said, and finally he got up properly and staggered over to a basin to start washing himself clean. “Obviously! I'm incredibly self-absorbed. It’s about what I need from you…hey, how did you come back? I thought the ritual only worked if I died.”

It should have, Wei Wuxian agreed, unwillingly intrigued by it. I don’t know, actually. It’s strange: it should have either worked, in which case you’d be dead and I’d be possessing your body, or else not worked at all, in which case I shouldn’t be here.

“I always mess things up.”

No, really, I don’t think you messed this up? The array is perfect. There’s no reason for it not to have worked.

“These cuts won’t heal,” Nie Huaisang observed, looking at his arms. “Did I accidentally curse myself to fulfill my obligations? Ugh, why.”

As the person you were going to impose said obligations on, I’m now going to laugh at you. Hahahahaha –

“Shut up, Wei-xiong. Where are you, anyway? I don’t see any ghostly figures that might be you, and anyway, we’re in the Unclean Realm; there are ghost-repelling arrays in every stone.”

I don’t know, Wei Wuxian said, and then something else said, Ghost-repelling arrays only repel ghosts.

At first Wei Wuxian thought that it was Nie Huaisang who had said that, and he was about to ask what he meant by that, only Nie Huaisang got there first and said, “What do you mean, Wei-xiong? Are you not a ghost?”

I didn’t say that, Wei Wuxian said. That – wasn’t me.

“Who was it?”

Me.

“…Wei-xiong…?”

No, that wasn’t me. I mean, it wasn’t me that said ‘me’ just now!

Of course not, the voice said, and it was Wei Wuxian’s voice – or not-voice, anyway, whatever it was that he was using to communicate – but not Wei Wuxian speaking. It was me, of course. Master forgot to account for me in his array.

What? Wei Wuxian asked, utterly confused, but apparently that made more sense to Nie Huaisang because his knees went weak and he fell down on his ass.

“Aituan?” he gasped. “I – what – is that you?”

Yes.

Can I interrupt? Wei Wuxian asked. Who – or what – is Aituan?

“My saber!”

Your – what?!

Nie Huaisang attempted to explain. It ended up being a fairly long explanation, involving his sect’s cultivation style, saber spirits, and his own personal saber spirit, which was named Aituan, and which Nie Huaisang swore up and down did not speak prior to this.

Of course not, the voice now known as Aituan said irritably. Why would I speak? I’m a saber. We’re sensible, not like you humans – but now you’ve shoved a human spirit in with me, so what am I supposed to do? Not use his abilities as my own?

I feel like I should feel violated, Wei Wuxian said.

“When in fact you think it’s really neat?”

…yeah, basically.

Aituan huffed. Can we get back to the part where we plan a murder? he (it?) whined.

Sorry, Aituan, Wei Wuxian said. No murder.

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Actually, about that…”

-

I think we should kill him.

“I can’t do that!”

Dunno, I think Aituan has a point, Wei Wuxian said. We should probably just kill him.

“You’re supposed to be helping me, Wei-xiong!”

I’m helping! I’m a saber now, I can totally help you stab him.

“Not helpful!”

I like this human, Aituan declared. Good human. Proper blade on his hilt.

You mean head on my shoulders?

Whatever.

Nie Huaisang threw his hands up in annoyance. “Would either of you like to remember the part where I can’t actually fight? San-ge would beat me black and blue if I so much as picked up a pocket-knife in his presence!”

Get someone else to help, Wei Wuxian suggested pitilessly.

“I tried! You!”

Someone else.

“Like who?”

Hmm. Lan Zhan? He’s great.

“I don’t know. He’s er-ge’s brother, isn’t he? He might not believe me…” Nie hUaisang grimaced. “He hasn’t been much inclined to believe me before.”

Why doesn’t the loudmouth do the talking? Aituan suggested.

Oh, that’s a good idea! Lan Zhan was always inclined to listen to me before.

“I thought you said he hated you?”

He still listened!

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh.

Your other alternative is stabbing your enemy directly, Aituan said. If you’d like to give it a try…

“…I’ll talk to Lan Zhan.”

-

“I can’t believe you’re perving after my saber,” Nie Huaisang complained.

I can’t believe Lan Zhan likes me! I mean, likes me!

I can’t believe I’m still stuck here with you idiots. Can I go share bodies with Baxia instead?

Lan Wangji just looked awkward.

Some people might mistake it for looking noble and genteel, but by now they all knew: it was just him being horribly awkward.

“I have no such intentions,” he said stiffly. “Only – if it was possible for Wei Ying to exit the saber…”

Nie Huaisang grimaced, humor falling away. “I…don’t really know about that.”

Wait, wait, wait. If I can’t – if I’m stuck as a saber – I can’t – but I really want to kiss Lan Zhan! This isn’t fair! I don’t want to have to wait until I reincarnate.

You won’t reincarnate, Aituan said. You’re a saber. Unless we’re melted down or get ground down by time…

No!

“Surely there has to be some way. Aituan, stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution.”

Fine. Let him possess you.

“…what.”

He just needs a human body, right? Let him possess you. Problem solved.

I can do that?

Technically, I can do that, and you can do it because I can do it. But we’d need Master’s permission.

“There are many, many, many books about why you don’t grant your saber permission to possess you. Anyway, that’s my body!”

Yeah, I guess it would be weird for you to kiss Lan Zhan, would it?

“I mean, not really? He’s very pretty. I could swing it.”

You could?

“…you could swing what,” Lan Wangji said.

“Having Wei-xiong possess me,” Nie Huaisang explained. “So that he and you can get the whole missed opportunity thing out of your system.”

Lan Wangji’s face did a few strange things.

"Assuming that it wouldn't be an issue for you, that is, it being me on the other side..."

"No," Lan Wangji said, and cleared his throat. "That would be - fine."

Ooooooh. Does Lan Zhan like you, too?

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous, Lan Zhan doesn't like me like that."

He'd be willing to kiss you.

"Physical attraction isn't the same thing," Nie Huaisang argued. "Lan Zhan, you're with me on this, right? You wouldn't be interested in -"

Lan Wangji cut him off.

A few moments later, he pulled back and said, thoughtfully, "As suspected. It is fine."

Nie Huaisang opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"...well then," he said blankly, then frowned. “Aituan, can I revoke permission for possession?”

No idea. You'd just have to trust that we'd give it back; it's a risk you'd have to take.

“…well, as illustrated, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. Let’s try it, and then once everyone’s a little more focused we can go do what we need to do. Sound good?”

-

“I really didn’t expect you to start a relationship Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said to Lan Wangji, not long before the end. He sounded deeply puzzled. “I didn’t think you liked him like that.”

“Not by himself,” Lan Wangji said with a shrug. “But he’s good in company.”

“…you’re with other people too? Both of you?”

“Mm.”

Lan Xichen, knowing his younger brother’s reticent temper, especially of late, declined to ask who the other parties were. “Doesn’t that make things crowded?” he asked instead.

“…surprisingly no,” Lan Wangji said. “Not as much as you’d think.”

[yokohamabeans]

Chapter 3: lady of the locust shell (上)

We know how the story ends: in all versions of it, the crane leaves her lover in tears.

(In which: Kakuchō meets you at his worst. Eight years later, you meet him at yours.)

Pairings: Kakuchō x F!OC/Reader (ft. Haitani Ran x F!OC/Reader)

Series Tags / TW & CW / Notes: Dark/Mature Themes, Bonten!Timeline (or rather, pre-Bonten / Rise of Bonten Era), TR Manga Spoilers, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Organized Crime, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Japanese Culture, OC will have a name but this will largely be written in 2nd POV, Character Study, Hostessing & Forced Prostitution, etc.

(WC: ~4k)

Series Index | Read on AO3 here!

2015

Atsuko is crying in the dressing room. 

To your utter dismay, you’ve been sent to calm her down. To comfort her. Scold her. Threaten her. Whatever it takes to get her to stop, Mama said. The dressing room is too close to the restrooms and Atsuko’s break is about to end! Customers will know that she’s been crying, and they won’t like that she’s been crying. Mama only cares about what the customers like. She cares not for you nor Atsuko, nor any of the other girls for that matter, so that is why you are going to spend your break mopping up someone else’s tears. 

You push on the door with half a mind to disobey Mama and turn around, but it is too late: the clicks of your stilettos have already alerted Atsuko of your presence. Any hope of returning to peaceful solitude at the rooftop is further drowned by the fresh wave of tears that Atsuko sends your way. So, like an adult caving to a wailing baby, you agree to stay with her, though you make your disdain obvious by choosing the seat at the vanity furthest away from her and her garden of soggy tissues. She doesn’t seem to notice—too busy emptying her nose of snot to not look like a complete mess. You muster a quick smile as if to say: don’t worry, even with mucus and mascara streaking disgustingly down your face, you’re still a vision! But in truth, you don’t see her as anything more than a spilled bucket of water you have to clear. Not anything more than a chore. 

“I shouldn’t have c-come to work today,” she hiccups, sounding low and nasal. Wow, she must really be in a slump, because she is usually tuning her voice to the highest pitch possible. “Do you think M-Mama will give me the rest of my night off?”

“I won’t recommend that you ask. It’s a busy night,” you tell her plainly, glancing at the clock. Only ten minutes till her break ends and, more importantly, twenty till yours. “Get a grip and clean yourself up. You’ll forget him by next week.”

“You know about Shō-kun?!” Atsuko gasps, and it surprises you too: did she really think she has been secretive about her relationship with that young salaryman? He walks her to the club on Saturdays, for crying out loud. Even though there are only the two of you around, she leans in with a hushed whisper. “Does Mama know?”

Oh, Mama most certainly does. But if you tell that to Atsuko, she will no doubt take the next five minutes to panic about it and you’ll never get to rest. Luckily, you are skilled in the art of deflection. That is why you are doing well as a hostess. “There’s nothing for her to know about now, is there? Because it’s over?” 

Atsuko leaks with tears again and you realise you were too callous with your words. So, perhaps rather compassionately, you decide to add: “You were stupid to date a client, but I suppose there wasn’t much to lose with someone like your Shō-kun. With his salary, he will never spend much in our club. At least you aren’t losing a big customer with this break-up. Some of the other girls here have had it way worse than you.”

She turns away with an indignant pout, clearly still convinced that hers is a woe beyond compare. But you can also tell she relished your degradation of her ex-lover, because her eyes are now dry enough to fix the makeup staining them. 

“Ugh, this sucks,” Atsuko groans, picking a wet wipe out of its packet. She looks at you through the mirror while ridding her cheeks of ruined eyeliner. “Have you had your heart broken before?”

You stare straight back. “No.”

“I believe that of you, somehow,” she mutters under her breath, which you ignore. “No man can ever budge you, huh? Oh, if only I can be more like you, onē-san!”

Atsuko’s exclamation sounds suspiciously like sarcasm, but you know she doesn’t have the wit nor guts to be snide. She proceeds to prattle on about the highs and lows of her affair with her Shō-kun, and her excitement shows that she’s been wanting to for some time. You aren’t in the mood to be annoyed or exhausted so you tune her out. It’s the same old story anyway—the names may change but it is always a formulaic love triangle. In the case of Atsuko, it was between her, Shō-kun and Yū, the woman Atsuko turns into every night inside the lounges of the club Murasaki. Shō-kun has realised too late that Atsuko, who loves him, is not Yū, who he loves, and so Atsuko must suffer for this difference. Every hostess in Tōkyō dreams of a fairytale romance but this is the story that happens instead. 

Well, are you speaking from experience? Are you musing in bitter reminiscence? No, not at all. Never. As if you’d ever let yourself become that sorry. Your life is pathetic enough as it is, you don’t need a man to dig that ditch any deeper. But that’s not to say you’ve never had your heart moved. Atsuko and some other colleagues seem to think you are made of ice, but you don’t blame them for having such an impression. You drop your smiles the moment your clients turn their backs, and you’ve never once gushed nor spoken fondly about any of them in the dressing room—not even that young, charming tech CEO who took you on a helicopter ride. Mama even once asked if you didn’t like men. You replied that you simply didn’t like anyone. She raised a brow. Not a single one? You nodded. You speak of love to my customers without a muse? You cursed her silently next because a boy then came to mind. A boy you’d met when you were seventeen.

To preface: you have never been in love. It must’ve been the magic of the firsts that made you think of him—he was the first boy you brought home, the first boy you touched. The first boy to make you feel, for a lack of a better word, things. And, mind you, he wasn’t a boyfriend. Neither was he a friend. He wasn’t even a schoolmate. In fact, in the most literal sense he was a random loser: you had found him in a station alley, all battered from what must’ve been a fight. So what made him so special? 

It is far from romantic but the story starts with your mother. Your beat-up, long-dead mother. Unpleasant, right? But you suppose you cannot think about life without thinking of her. Do you have the time now, though? You see that Atsuko is still completely absorbed in her unceasing drivel about Shō-kun, so you guess you do. 

You see, just the year before you met that boy, you’d taken a first-aid course. You had enough of the clumsy bandaging you did for your mother—it would unravel the moment your father struck her next and you’d have to dress her wounds all over again. So you kept your lunch allowance and let your stomach writhe at school, and when your jar was full enough you enrolled at the local Red Cross. But what a waste everything turned out to be, for your mother died the week after you received the certificate! It seemed that, in the end, her one life could only take so many beatings. 

What a waste! What a pity!—this was a thought you could not let go. Your twenty-thousand-yen first-aid skills: what are you supposed to do with them now? How you wished for your mother to come back to life so you could use them. How you wished to smash her urn and mould the ashes inside into her shape. Even if she were to crumble back to earth forever, you’d be at peace if you could just stem her blood or hold her bones in place again. Just—once more. Perhaps, with the skills you’ve learned, you could keep her by your side a little longer. For a year, the regret weighed heavily on your brain and on your hands and on your fingers, neurotically, like the itch for a once-favoured pastime. 

So, when your eyes fell on the boy for the first time at Kokudō Station, all your senses urged you towards him. Another victim of a heavy fist, body violet and glistening vermillion, limp with defeat—there was no way you could’ve left him there. Perhaps with those swollen bumps on his skin, he could be of shape to fill the hole your mother left between your hands. A selfish idea, was it not? But he could use your hands too. You saw him turn his pockets out before a vending machine; it was unlikely he would’ve gone to a clinic. You’d be helping him as much as you’d be helping yourself. Were you still selfish then? 

You offered him a drink and aid. Fortunately, he was agreeable. You were not warm to him and you neither gave nor asked for any explanation, but still he followed you without question. You were quite intrigued; even a stray dog would’ve barked or bitten in fear for its life if someone had tried to carry it home. It seemed that the boy had nothing left to lose, so it was easy for him to abandon himself to your hands. You suppose you were the same, letting a complete stranger into your house. A stranger who was a—what did people call a person like him again?—a delinquent. A ‘dangerous person’. You could practically hear your nosey neighbour shrieking: there’s no knowing what a guy like him would do to a girl like you! And to that, with all that’s already happened, you would have said: I don’t care. 

But: oh, the things he did to you.

When the boy stepped out of your shower with his shirt off and cheeks red, you were suddenly very aware of the difference between the two of you, that he was Boy and you were Girl. Your heart tripped and you thought of the girls in your class, the ones who froze upon seeing Takahashi, your school’s handsome basketball star: ah, is this what they felt? Even without the bruises and swelling, the boy did not have Takahashi’s wholesome good looks. He had a massive scar running across his face, a lame eye, and if you looked very carefully you’d see that his nose had been thrown crooked by punches.

And yet, unlike him, Takahashi had never made you skip a beat. With a man like your father in your life, you hadn’t given much thought about boys. (Not with the nasty pranks and rumours that followed you at school.) So, surely you could be forgiven for having such girlish thrills for the first time? And, about these new thrills: it was when you got on your knees to study his face, to read the braille of his scar—the moment you caught him gripping his own thigh at your touch—that you realised no one else could’ve given them to you but him. 

You remember his eyes when you held his face—wide and strained for what you might do next. (Even you were in fear of what you might’ve done.) They swallowed you in like gravity, consumed you whole and made you wonder: what if, in that instance, you were to let yourself fall? To crash on his lips like an asteroid upon Earth, and obliterate the world around you? Would it be so disastrous?

(It would, kā-san, wouldn’t it?)

Your lips never met, but as far as you cared you’d lost your first kiss then. You managed to wrench yourself out of gravity’s pull with a rather impolite joke. He responded in kind, and it occurred to you that at some point the both of you had stopped being strangers. You thought of a story your mother once knew: the Chinese legend of guqin player Bo Ya and woodcutter Zhong Ziqi. Both men had nothing in common and yet Zhong was the only one who perfectly understood the sentiments behind Bo Ya’s music, so much so that upon Zhong’s death, Bo Ya broke his instrument in grief and vowed to never play again. You didn’t know a thing about the boy, not even his name, but you had a feeling that if you were to only hum a single note, he’d know the whole song. 

The boy then told you of his parents: they’re dead.

(“When Bo Ya’s will was towards high mountains in his playing, Zhong would say, how towering like Mount Tai!”)

Oh, I see, he replied when you said the same of yours.

(“Amazing, Bo Ya exclaimed. Your heart and mine are the same!”)

Certainly, the two of you weren’t the only fucking orphans in the world, but you had felt so singular in your experience that you thought of him as godsent. For the first time in a while, everything about you was light. Your organs, your hands, the edges of your lips; every part of you floated, and you understood then that the longing that bound you was not just for your mother. He shared a smile with you, the kind that only two people could have, and your chest swelled with gratitude and you thought— 

“Isn’t Shō-kun just the best?”  

You blink. 

All of a sudden, Atsuko is beaming at you expectantly. You finally notice that her makeup is flawless again, though the redness in her eyes remains unconcealable. “Can you believe he really spent all his rent money on me just because I said Mama might fire me? What an idiot! He’s the best!” You realise you have not heard a single word she’s said. 

Ah, so you’ve digressed. Lost yourself to the past, have you? You suppose it happens with fond memories. Now that your head is out of the clouds, let’s be clear once more: you were not in love with that boy. Teenagers are prone to confusing affection for love, and even you were once a pubescent girl. Of course. The memory certainly is dreamy but now that you are lucid and sensible again, you see it for what it was: a mere neurochemical reaction, from the potent mix of hormonal thrills and a lonely existence. A false affinity. Yes, yes, yes. That’s all there is to it. Your life was void of meaningful connections and so you clutched at straws with the first person who’d been nice to you. Dove right into a fantasy about a complete stranger you’ve only met once and knew next to nothing of, just because you liked the idea that even someone like you could have a soulmate. Oh, you really were a sad little thing, huh?

Still, you cannot help but wonder how that boy is doing now, passingly with amity, like one would about a lost friend. 

“Oi! Onē-san!” Atsuko shrills. “Have you been listening to me?!” 

She may as well have stabbed needles into your ears. The door opens in the nick of time to save you from giving her an answer. Mama pushes herself into the room, clapping her hands like a shepherd at his dogs. Atsuko’s spine shoots straight up while you let yours remain slack against your chair. 

“Alright, breaktime is over. Get back out there,” Mama announces. You stiffen as her gaze meets yours. “You too.”

You check the clock. “I still have ten minutes.”

“No, you don’t.” Her ruby fingernails clink against the metal of the doorknob. “A customer’s calling for you now.”

“Well, tough luck,” you scoff, unmoving in your seat. “He should’ve made an appointment.”

“It’s Haitani Ran.”

At this, you cuss, not bothering to do so under your breath. Grudgingly, you get to your feet. Hostesses are allowed to be selective with their customers, and customers must make reservations if they wish to spend time with specific girls—these are the rules at Murasaki. But unfortunately for you, ever since they met Mama has decided that rules do not apply to Haitani Ran.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” she rolls her eyes, rapping her nails harder on the doorknob. “He’s rich and generous, the perfect combination for any man.” 

You glare at her from the vanity. She knows exactly why you’re complaining. “I am not short of rich and generous men.”

Atsuko, looking asphyxiated, attempts to leave unnoticed from the crossfire between you and Mama. Tragically, a Louboutin plants itself in her way at the door. “Wait, we need two girls. His brother is here too.” Mama takes her chin to scrutinise the veins in her eyes, prompting Atsuko to squeak an apology and promise to get eye drops at once. “No, just leave it,” Mama waves her hand dismissively. “It seems like something he’ll get off to. Let’s go.” 

Atsuko’s face blanches.

The both of you follow Mama out to the elevator. Most cabaret clubs are the size of family restaurants. If they are popular enough and their customers adequately rich, they may sometimes rent a second floor as well. Murasaki occupies all five levels of a building in Roppongi. You expect Mama to reach for the button to the fourth floor, where the private rooms are, but her finger travels down instead. “The basement?” You frown, crossing your arms. “They won’t be drinking much then. What a waste of time for me—and Atsuko, of course.” 

“They have business later and can’t get too drunk,” Mama sighs tiredly at your open griping. “Though, I am certain Ran will open any bottle of your choosing anyway, if you ask him sweetly.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Why come to the club now, then?”

“Koko-kun is here to see me. They tagged along.”

“And how long will that take?” You don’t bother to mask your grating tone. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my night just hanging around, kissing cards and blowing on dice.”

“I believe it’s mahjong they’re in the mood for tonight.”

“So two hours or more.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mama warns, reminding you of the fact that she is your boss. Her eyes flit between you and Atsuko, whose peace at being forgotten has ended. “Tell you what, the both of you will play too, and you get to keep your winnings. Happy?”

Atsuko nods with glee, baselessly confident that she’ll have winnings. You miss the chance to ask about losses as the elevator doors split open. Mama strides out into rows of ageing liquor, pausing only to adjust a bottle of Cabernet, and waves briskly to the attendant hovering around the other end of the room. At first glance, there is nothing suspicious about Murasaki’s basement: it is, for all intents and purposes, a lavishly-stocked wine cellar. Someone who is sharp, however, will notice that its size is much smaller than what the floors above suggest, and that its attendant looks far too brutish to be guarding a mere storeroom. 

The attendant (bouncer) acknowledges Mama with a curt bow and mutters into his earpiece. You recognise him as one of the Mara-kai’s younger, more disposable members. One of the fall guys. He bows to Mama again before stepping aside, and the three of you watch as the shelf behind him folds into the wall like a door. The excited, cacophonous din of the room inside washes over you immediately like a flood, as do the flashy lights of slot machine screens and the earthy aroma of cigars. A headache starts to brew; the casino has always been too much for your liking.

Mama bends her natural scowl into a grin before strutting towards the bar, where Haitani Ran is lounging with his brother and Kokonoi Hajime. She presents her arms like a showman. “Sorry, boys. You know what they say about those who wait!” 

The three men turn to acknowledge her, though only Ran is smiling. You sense some discomfort from Atsuko, and from the way her brows are knitted you realise she’s been rather bothered by Mama’s comment at the dressing room. Naturally. Her clients have only been men of sparkling clean professions, white-collared and respectable. Nice and trouble-free men. Men she may refuse without worrying about her safety. You can see her bottom lip tremble as she nears the bar, and it sends a bizarre surge of responsibility through you. 

“Don’t listen to Mama. Rindō is harmless,” you sigh, putting yourself a step ahead of her. “Well, mostly. Just follow my lead.” I’ll make sure nothing happens, you don’t push yourself to say.

“Kokonoi-san,” you approach the bar, performing soft bows in greeting, “Haitani-san.”

“Ah, the incomparable Utsu-san,” Ran’s smile stretches in your presence. You pretend not to notice. “I was worried it might’ve been your night off.”

“She was having her break when I told her of your arrival, and she rushed down immediately,” Mama tells him, and you cannot fault her for fibbing because it is, technically, true. “As did Yū-chan over here. You boys have not met her before, so some introductions are in order…”

Mama ushers Atsuko towards Rindō, who watches her with such boredom that she must surely be relieved—and offended. Kokonoi, on the other hand, eyes her closely from head to toe, though you suspect his interest is only in her value as a product. (He’d given you the same once-over when you first met him, and he did it so blatantly you nearly asked if he’d like a monocle to grade you better with.) Ran is the only one friendly enough to ask about her, and because Atsuko is incapable of perceiving depth, she relaxes at his seemingly polite demeanour. Once again, you are overcome with the ridiculous instinct to place yourself between the girl and these wolves.

“I have the Peony Room ready for the four of you,” Mama announces, having enough of the pleasantries. She shifts herself to be near Kokonoi. “Shall we head up, Koko-kun?” 

“That we shall, Mama-san.” Kokonoi’s silver hair shines with colour under the neon ceiling lights. “I’ll catch you again later, Utsu, Yū.” He shoots a knowing look at the brothers in his walk past them, as if to say ‘behave’. At the same time, Mama orders you to ‘be nice’. You don’t need to see them off at the elevator to know they are making for the fifth floor, where Mama’s office and personal abode are. 

Mama is a woman well into her fifties, but still she turns heads as quickly as she did in her youth. Her jowls are loose and her figure is not lithe without shapewear, but the kind of regal beauty she has is one that’s impervious to time. Gold does not tarnish, after all. You do not doubt that she can bed any man she so wishes, but you do not think that is what’s happening with Kokonoi. No, their relationship is of the business sort—there is too much respect in their regard for each other. You’d rather not concern yourself with Mama’s dealings but there are ominous clouds looming over this one. Kokonoi, Ran and Rindō are no run-of-the-mill gangsters. They reek of danger and ambition, and the Haitani name has been notorious in these parts of town for some time. You’re already dreading the changes to come.

Atsuko dutifully latches herself onto Rindō’s arm and steers him towards the private rooms, blathering his ears off along the way. Shō-kun appears to be far from her mind. You have no choice but to meet Ran’s expectant gaze and slip into the space beside him. Ran is as uncannily put-together as always; there is never a crease in his suit nor a hair out of place. Every time you look at him, you think of a mannequin, or a marble statue.

“I hear you are often lucky in mahjong,” he says, smiling down at you. “Unfortunately, I myself have a terribly lousy hand. If I happen to feed you a particularly rare and expensive ron tonight, will you let me take you out for dinner in recompense?”

“You shouldn’t worry, Haitani-san. Mahjong is also a game of skill, and you’re a smart man.” You coil your hand around his arm. “You need not take me to dinner.”

The silk of his sleeve is cold and your cheeks are beginning to ache. 

Glossary of Terms / References Used | Next Chapter

A/N: Enter the MC! I suppose this chapter's kinda boring because it's really MC-centric; I initially wanted to add a couple more scenes to this chapter (which had Ran / Kakucho) but that would make it like 10k words long and I don't think I can publish 10k-word chapters on the reg... (Plus, this update has been WAY overdue.) Anyway, next chap's gonna have more of the Bonten Boys so stay tuned! 

Reblogs & comments will be greatly appreciated! :)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it. 

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors. 

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

 The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

 It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

 Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

 And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

 It’s fun.

 Point. Right. Right.

 It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

 Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

 Yeah, they gotta work that out.

 Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

 Normal people.

 What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

 No one is normal and normal is boring.

 Logan. Right.

 Okay, so here’s the thing.

 Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

 Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

 It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

 Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

 Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

 Oh.

 Right.

 He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

 He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

 The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

 Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

 Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

 So. Gentle it is then.

 Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

 Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

 But with Logan...

 Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

 It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

 Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

 Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

 Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

 Not anymore.

 Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

 Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

 Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

 Take a shower.

 Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

 Go to sleep.

 Ask someone for help.

 See?

 If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

 Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

 The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

 He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

 He can’t.

 Fuck.

 He knocks.

 “One moment, please.”

 Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

 “Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

 “Can I come in?”

 “Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

 “Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

 “Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

 “Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

 “Not wearing your costume?”

 “Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

 Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

 “Do what?”

 “Care. Try and take care of me.”

 Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

 Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

 “Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

 “So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

 “As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

 Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 “You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

 “Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

 Logan frowns. “Like what?”

 Glad you fucking asked.

 “‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

 He watches Logan’s face tense.

 “Sound familiar, Lolo?”

 “You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

 He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

 “That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

 “Lolo.”

 Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

 Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

 Logan freezes.

 “W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

 “Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

 Gotcha.

 Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

 “Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

 “But I have work.”

 “But you need food.”

 “Remus—“

 “Logan.”

 At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

 “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

 “I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

 “’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

 “I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

 Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

 “Hey!”

 “Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

 “It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

 For fuck’s sake…

 Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

 “Remus, what—“

 “You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

 “I am being honest!”

 “You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

 “I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

 Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

 Or eating.

 Or taking care of himself.

 Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

 “Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

 “Lolo?”

 “It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

 Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

 Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

 “You know what I do.”

 Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

 “You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

 Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

 Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

 “Ah!”

 “Am I hurting you?”

 “No, no, just—just a little startled.”

 “Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

 Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

 “I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

 Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

 “It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

 Oh, Lolo.

 “I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

 “But why?”

 Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

 “O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

 “Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

 “Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

 “Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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[p-artsypants]

A Gift from Mr. Blanc

Marinette's worst nightmares were of Chat Blanc. But that's all they were: nightmares. Until one day where in the stone cold light of day, Chat Blanc walked into the classroom, with a gift in hand. "This will make you love me again, My Lady."

Ao3 | FF.net

Everyone is on this Chat Blanc train, so I bought a ticket and got a window seat. 

--

“Yes, Timestreamer, find me the best Akuma ever created!” Shadowmoth raised a manic fist as the images appeared before him. 

The woman who was once Nathalie Sancoeur stood next to him, now transformed into an Akuma with thick glasses, which almost looked like VR goggles. 

In a fit of artist’s block, Gabriel Agreste had vented that he had run out of ideas for Akuma. He had to keep going, and the villains couldn’t slack less Ladybug and Chat Noir get the upper hand. 

To which Nathalie had said, “well, you don’t need to reinvent the wheel.” 

She had meant it to be cheeky, but he took inspiration from it in a whole new way. Why invent a new villain when one from a different time is sure to work? Timetagger, an Akuma from the future, had seemed to almost win. Perhaps there were more like him out there. 

He only needed someone to see the timelines so he could pick his champion. 

So here they were, scanning through endless time streams, looking at massive successes, and massive failures. There really was no telling which one would do the job, but unless Timestreamer’s Akuma was taken or, heaven forbid, the Butterfly was taken, they could send villain after villain after villain. 

Yes, this was a good plan! 

“That one!” Shadowmoth pointed, the stark white catching his gaze. 

“That one?” Timestreamer asked, feeling unease looking into his soulless blue eyes. 

“That has to be Chat Noir’s akumatized form. He’s perfect.” 

Following orders, Timestreamer summoned the Akuma forward. 

From the static images appeared a grainy figure, slowly solidifying into a solid white boy. His expression was one of confusion and disorientation.

“Chat Blanc, I am Shadowmoth,” he began. 

Immediately, Chat Blanc snarled. “You! You monster!” And he leapt. 

Suffice to say, neither Timestreamer or Shadowmoth were prepared for a full on fight this early in the conversation. 

Shadowmoth did have training in fighting, and successfully blocked the incoming swipe at his throat with his arm. However, the claws cut right through his suit and into his flesh, making him cry out in pain. 

The next swipe hit true, and knocked the butterfly Miraculous from its place on his collar. 

Chat Blanc then plucked the Peacock from his lapel while Gabriel Agreste tried to put pressure on his grievous wounds. 

“Why?” Asked Gabriel, “don’t you know I made you? Don’t you know I can give you everything you want?” 

Chat Blanc didn’t respond, only snapped the goggles off of a shell shocked Timestreamer. He then touched the black butterfly with his claw, and it crumbled into dust. 

Nathalie ran to Gabriel and looked at his wounds. “You need to go to a hospital.” 

“No!” He protested, pushing her away. “Answer me, boy! You’re easily the most powerful Akuma ever made. Once you get the Miraculous of Ladybug and this timeline’s Chat Noir, we can make the ultimate wish! Whatever your heart’s desire, it’s yours!” He reached a hand out to the boy. 

Chat Blanc, who Gabriel knew as the exuberant and emotional Chat Noir, just looked at him with a sharp, emotionless stare. 

“You already took everything from me, Father. This is my one chance to get things back to where they are supposed to be.” 

“Adrien?” 

The gaze didn’t change, but he did raise an eyebrow. “In my timeline you knew. You knew, and you still hurt me. You hurt her. You turned me, and you forced me to kill. You left me alone in that world for months. Left me to mourn. Cursed me to this form—“ he snarled. “That can’t starve, that can’t sleep, that can’t thirst or drown—“ a tear fell down his cheek. “You left  me in a prison where I couldn’t die, and would continue to suffer because of your mistakes.” He gave a hint of a bitter smile. “Does that answer your question, old man?” 

Maybe it was just the blood loss, but Gabriel felt some remorse. “I’m sorry, son. Give me back the Butterfly, and I’ll set you free.” 

“Not a chance. Ladybug will fix me. And when I give her these, she’ll love me again. And I’ll have all the family I ever need.” With that, he summoned his baton to break through the window, and launched out into Paris. 

Gabriel laid still on the ground, holding his chest with one hand while Nathalie gripped his wrist with the other. 

“I…what am I going to do?” 

“Well, you know Adrien has the ring—“ 

“No doubt Chat Blanc will tell him everything before we can get to him. I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” 

“Then…what would you like to do?” 

He spent a long time just breathing and thinking. 

Choosing. 

“I guess, apologize. And then hope that I haven’t done enough damage to lose the only family I have left.” 

“Maybe, if he is Chat Noir, and you explain the truth to him…he’ll tell Ladybug. Maybe she’d help.” 

“I doubt she’d do anything to help me, after all I’ve done.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I could just bleed out here. Save him the pain.” 

“I won’t let you do that, Sir. As upset Adrien will be, he still loves you.” 

“But for how long?” 

“I think you should live and find out.” 

—

Chat Blanc had never been so happy. He should be upset, angry, sobbing even, but he wasn’t. 

He was getting his second chance. Paris was full, alive, teeming with traffic and swearing and smoking and everything foul that wasn’t there in his wastelands. 

Hawkmoth was gone, and he was on his way to Marinette. With these, she had to love him, she just had to.

Francois DuPont never looked so pretty. The windows showed bored expressions of dozens of students. 

Students that were alive and not submerged under water. 

He dropped down in the courtyard, letting muscle memory take him up the stairs to his old classroom. The door was closed, but not locked. 

Did he knock? Or did he just walk in? It had been so long…did he introduce himself? Did he apologize for interrupting? 

He decided to forgo knocking, and pushed the door open on his own. 

All eyes turned to look at him, but his attention was only on her. 

Though he did get a glimpse of his own horrified face. 

“Chat Noir?” The teacher asked. 

“No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He never stopped looking right at Marinette.

“I must be dreaming,” the girl in question said aloud. “I must have fallen asleep, and now I’m having a nightmare.” Tears were filling her eyes as her voice crumbled. “Please tell me you’re a nightmare, Chat.” 

“No, My Lady. I’m real.” Did she know him from somewhere? Or was she just assuming he was an akumatized Chat Noir? “But this shouldn’t be a nightmare, Marinette.” His steps were slow and soft, trying not to spook her. “I’m your dream come true. Because it’s over now, and we can be together.” 

She stood abruptly, smacking her knees on the desk and almost tumbling. “What are you talking about?” 

He placed the Miraculous on the desk. “It’s over now. I won. Hawkmoth is no more, and there’s nothing that can hurt us. This will make you love me again!” 

“Holy shit…” Said Alya. 

Marinette just stared at them, and then at Chat. “How—?” 

“He brought me here. Somehow, an Akuma I guess. He plucked me out of my time, and brought me here. This is my chance to start again, you know.” He grabbed her wrist. “Now our love won’t ruin the world! We can be happy again, My Lady! We can be happy and nothing will tear us apart!” 

Adrien, who had up until very recently, by reveal of a certain nickname, thought that Marinette was only just Marinette, grabbed Chat Blanc and yanked him back, forcing him to let go of Marinette. 

“Don’t touch her!” He snapped. 

“And you—“ Chat Blanc grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. “A little liar with too much self preservation! Why didn’t you act sooner?! Why couldn’t you save her?!” 

Adrien clawed at the hand on his throat. “I don’t—know what the hell—you’re talking about!” 

“Don’t play stupid, Adrien! It’s not going to work on me, and you know that!” 

His voice was just a whisper now, as he attempted to meet Chat Blanc’s gaze. “Whatever, man. But you think outing her is smart? You think that’ll make her like you?” 

Chat Blanc crushed harder, suffocating him. “It doesn’t matter with Hawkmoth out of the way! And once I kill you, there will be no competition! She’ll love me for sure!” 

Marinette had stashed the Miraculous in her purse once Chat Blanc had turned his back. She was going to attempt to talk him down, but at his threat on Adrien’s life, she realized he was beyond talking. 

“Tikki, Spots on!” 

Chat Blanc whirled back around, only to get a fist to the face. 

Adrien fell on the floor, gasping. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, helping him up.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly as he nodded. He knew she was Marinette, but the mask still turned his legs to jelly. 

“Why do you protect him, Ladybug? Don’t you know you can just be happy with me?” 

Marinette pushed Adrien behind her. “I might be able to be happy with my Chat Noir, but never with you. I love Adrien, and I’ll fight to protect him, even if he doesn’t love me back.” Though it was a brave declaration, she still blushed. 

“Ugh, don’t you get it? I am him!” 

“What?” 

“I’m Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! We’re supposed to be together! And we were! We were happy, Marinette! And then—and then you told me you didn’t love me anymore. You almost got akumatized over that…but I saved you.” He snarled. “But he kept us apart. My father knew who I was, and he turned me into this…” 

“Wait,” Adrien rasped. “Father turned you into…an akuma?” 

“Because he’s Hawkmoth, Adrien. He always has been. Mother is alive, in a coma, in the basement. And he never let you see her, because he doesn’t trust you.” 

“Shut up!” Ladybug shouted. 

“Even after he knew who I was, he still hit me. He beat me, Adrien, because he doesn’t love us!” 

Adrien held a hand over his face, willing his sobs to stay silent. 

“We’re just a pawn for him. But…I can make it better. Let me destroy you, and everything will stop hurting. I’ll take care of Marinette, I promise!” 

“That’s enough!” Ladybug lashed out and snagged his bell, ripped it from his throat, and smashed it on the floor. 

Then she caught the butterfly as it emerged, purified it, and let it go. But she didn’t call for a cure, not yet. 

Chat Noir, sans bell, glanced around the room in confusion. “Ladybug? What’s going on? Why are we here? Where’s Hawkmoth?” 

She met him with tear streaked cheeks. “You’re in the wrong timeline, Chat Noir.” 

His eyes flicked to Adrien, who was clearly shell shocked. “That would make…some sense.” 

“You were akumatized, and our Hawkmoth brought you here…probably to recruit you.” 

“Did I hurt anyone?” 

“You beat him. You beat Hawkmoth.” 

“And you tried to take my place,” Adrien hissed, showing his bruised throat. 

Chat Noir gripped his hair fiercely. “Oh crap! Oh crap crap crap! I’m so sorry! He’ll be all better once you do the cure, right Bug?” 

“Yeah. Physically, at least…but you did say some things that will hurt for a long time.” 

“I didn’t mean any of it! I was an Akuma, they lie and say all sorts of things—“ 

“You told me about Father. And mother.” 

“Oh…” he sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s too fresh in my mind to be a lie. I saw mom. He wanted to use the Miraculous to bring her back, but he was so unwilling to listen to me, to even think about working with us—that’s how it happened. He got me.” 

“I’m so sorry, Kitty.” Ladybug lamented. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

He shook his head. “It’s over now. If I defeated him, then you don’t have to be subjected to it,” he told Adrien. “I don’t mind taking one for the team.” 

“Did you kill him?” Adrien asked. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Even if he did, casting cure would fix it.” Said Ladybug. “There might be hope for a happy ending.” 

Chat Noir took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “My Lady, will you send me back? I have to see her again. My Marinette. I have to see her and make up with her.” 

Ladybug patted his cheek fondly. “Knowing me, she probably still loves you. But something happened to make her put distance between you.” 

“You’ll be happy together, right?” He asked, pouting. 

Adrien slipped an arm around her waist and held her. “I think we’ll manage.” 

Ladybug hugged Chat briefly. “Thank you. For all your trauma and suffering, you helped us.” 

“You also revealed both of our identities to the class, but that’s the kind of mistake I would make as an Akuma…” Adrien winced. 

Chat Noir looked at all the shocked and concerned faces around him. “Wow, look at all these comforting, understanding, and loyal friends you have. Where’s Lila?” 

“Out sick today,” provided Sabrina. 

“Perfect! Don’t ever ever tell her what happened here. She’s a liar and would tell our identities in a heartbeat for a chance for fame.” 

“Not a problem, Kitty Cat,” said Alya, with a wink. “Some of us are pretty good secret keepers.” 

“You knew!?” Adrien cried, with betrayal in his voice. 

Alya winced. “Ah, yeah…”

“Adrien.” Ladybug took his face and held it with trembling hands. “My kitty, my partner, my best friend, what I’m about to tell you is going to suck and you’re going to hate it, and that’s why I haven’t told you.”

“I’ve already had a lot of bad news dropped on me today, lay it on me.” 

She glanced at the rest of the class and then Chat Noir. “Let me send him home, and then we’ll talk in privacy.” 

He nodded, not really fond of how much the class had already learned about him today. 

Ladybug threw her yo-yo up in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!” 

In a wave of fluttering red, Chat Noir was gone, and so were the bruises on Adrien’s neck. 

“Spots off.” 

Now, the class started whispering. Up until that moment, shock held them in silence. After all, it's not everyday you find out your classmates are superheroes. 

“Miss Bustier, are you okay if we leave for a while?”

The teacher stammered a second, unfreezing from her complete and total shock. “I think it would be a crime to make you stay here today.”

Marinette smiled gratefully, before taking Adrien’s hand and leading him out into the hall. He was silent, rightfully so, and Marinette could only be happy there was no chance of him getting akumatized. 

Finally, they took a seat on a bench, and waited for the other to speak. 

“I…didn’t think this was how our identities would be revealed,” he breathed. 

“I always wanted to tell you.” Marinette insisted, “even though I said otherwise. Tikki and Master Fu were so adamant that I not tell a soul.” 

“So why does Alya know?”

She rested a hand on his. “I’ll get to that. But first…Chat Blanc.” 

Adrien sat attentive and quiet, holding his accusations for later. 

“It started about three months ago, when I gave you that Beret.” 

“Beret? The one from the Brazilian fan club?”

“Yeah…except it wasn’t. It was from me. Originally, I left it in your room, with my name on it. My real name. A little while after I left, Bunnix came to me, and explained that she needed my help. She took me into her burrow, and led me to the future…the future where you were akumatized.” 

“As Chat Blanc.”

“Yes.”

“That same akuma, that same Chat Noir?”

“I assume so. The moon was destroyed, the city flooded. You were all alone, everyone was gone.” 

“Where…where was that Ladybug?” 

She hesitated to say it, but admitted, “I found her underwater…cataclysmed.” 

“No…I wouldn’t have—“ 

“I know, Adrien. Chat Blanc was upset about it too. He cried. He wanted my Miraculous to make the wish and fix it.” 

“Sounds like an Akuma alright,” he said bitterly. 

“At the time, all I knew was that you knew my identity, and you said that our love destroyed the world. So…I assumed that you became akumatized by finding out who I was…and that the beret had something to do with it. So I erased my name.” 

“Oh…but Chat Blanc said he was akumatized because of my parents.” 

“I didn’t know that back then. I wish I had. As it stood, I was certain an identity reveal would end up with an Akuma.” 

“I understand your reasoning…but what about Alya?” 

She sighed, the guilt toiling around inside her. “That wasn’t…it was a spur of the moment thing. I was back into a corner and people were getting really worried about me. Worried and nosey…and so I told Alya. Rena Rouge.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

“I should have told you. I should have told you so you could have told someone. It’s not fair to think I was the only one that needed a confident.” 

“If I had to pick someone that wasn’t you, it would have been Nino. So I get it. Really, I do.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes regardless. He was hurting so badly, but what could she even do to help? 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

“Yes! Yes I do! Adrien, you’re my partner. Yes, keeping secrets can keep us safe for a while, but eventually we’ll run out of trust and then we’ll be in danger again. I don’t want to lose you!” 

He gave her a little smile. “I might be upset, but you aren’t going to lose me. I promise.” 

She squeezed his hand. “No more secrets. We train as guardians together. I’ll tell you all the auxiliary heroes, and all the formulas and—“ she stopped, blushing. 

“What?” 

“Ugh…I have to tell you something, since I said no more secrets.” 

“Is it bad?” 

“…no?” 

He turned his hand to squeeze her back. “Okay. Well then, let’s hear it.” 

She looked away, too nervous to look at his face. “Gah! This is just as hard as it’s always been!” 

“I’m not going to judge you.” 

“I know! I know!” 

Pretend this is just Chat. She goaded herself. 

“I…I’m in…love with you?” She squeaked out. There. The deed was done. She shyly turned to look at him. 

Wide, sparkling eyes full of tears, but a big smile on his face. “You mean it? You said as much to Chat Blanc, but I didn’t know for sure…”  

“Ugh, right. That.” She nodded. “You were the boy I kept turning…well, you down for. I’m sorry…” 

“I’m not!” He chirped. “Marinette, if anyone was going to have a crush on me as Adrien, I’m so glad it’s you. You really know me! You’re special to me, and I always considered you as a friend.” 

She sighed, hearing the magic words. “As I’ve heard.” 

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She blushed again. “It’s just…whenever we had a moment, or I tried to do something special for you, you always remind me that you feel…nothing for me.” 

“Wait, what? That’s what you got out of that?” 

“That you want me as a friend and just a friend?” 

He actually laughed at her and pulled her into a hug. “Marinette, I thought you were nervous around me because you were uncomfortable. I said that stuff to let you know I treasured our friendship. I love you so so much, My Lady. I was deeply in love with Ladybug, and completely in denial with Marinette.” 

“Can confirm!” Shouted Plagg from inside his jacket. 

“So having you be the same? I’m…I’m so happy!” He hugged her tightly. “Today has thrown a lot of bad things at me, and I’m so worried about what comes next. But with you, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He pulled away slightly. “You…will stay with me for whatever happens, right? I know Hawkmoth being my dad is kind of a deal breaker…” 

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up into him, kissing him right on the mouth. 

He stiffened briefly, before melting against her and pulling her tighter into the hug. 

The kiss was perfect, not in execution or performance, but because of the love they felt. Adrien nipped at her lip, and Marinette hummed as she twined her fingers into his hair. 

They pulled away begrudgingly. 

“You and me against the world, right Kitty?” 

“You know exactly what to say to make my heart swoon, my lady love.” 

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

“Kiss me and I’ll get over it.” 

“I’m serious, Kitty.” She touched his cheek. “I knew it was going to hurt, and I foolishly and cowardly put it off, hoping it would go away.” 

“Marinette, from what you said…it wasn’t just painful for me. It scared you, didn’t it? You said…when Chat Blanc appeared, that you thought you were having a nightmare. Do you dream of him?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Adrien.” 

He considered his next move, and decided to scoop her up into his lap. “So, here’s my idea. If you have another nightmare about him, you call me, and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” 

“And do what?” 

“Hold you. Kiss you. Reassure you. Cuddle with you until you fall asleep. Whatever you need.” 

She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, bugaboo.” 

Silence lapsed between for a while, as they just sat together, enjoying the warmth of their bodies, and the open air between them. 

Marinette sighed. “We should probably go confront your father.” 

“Yeah. We should…” 

“Could…I offer you a reward if we go through with it?” 

“What could possibly motivate me?” 

“Once we’re done, and everything is put away��we can find a random, secluded rooftop and…make out for a while.” 

Adrien stood, with Marinette still in his arms. “You know how to motivate a man.” 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just think about later.” 

“One peck for the road?” 

“One.” 

Adrien held her tightly before dipping her and pressing a sinful, toe-curling kiss to her lips. When he finished a few minutes later, she breathlessly huffed, “that was not a peck.” 

“No, but I need the strength.” 

“Somehow, it’s a lot harder to stay mad at you. You can put me down now.” 

“Nah. Plagg, Claws out!” 

“Tikki, Spots on!” 

The closer they got to the mansion, the faster Chat’s mood tanked. All the surface level happy feelings had bubbled away, and now he was filled with dread and apprehension. 

“I…I don’t want to send my dad to jail,” he said, as they landed inside the walls. 

“I know Kitty. I can do the talking.” 

“You’re so good at it, Princess.” 

She knocked twice, but didn’t wait for an answer before entering. 

It didn’t matter. Gabriel and Nathalie were sitting in the lobby, waiting, as it appeared. 

“Hello son,” said Gabriel, with not a trace of malice in his voice. 

Chat halted, paling considerably. “You know?” 

“Chat Blanc revealed as much. What did he tell you?” 

“He said that…mom was still alive. You wanted the Miraculous to wake her up.” 

“That’s right. But…” he sighed. “Can I humble myself and ask for your help, Ladybug? Can you look at her? Can you see if there’s any hope?” 

“I would love to.”

[kinglazrus]

Deep Wounds Ch. 1 - Who's to Blame?

Phic Phight | Next | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @q-gorgeous: Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay.

Submitted by @aj-itated: Dash catches Danny changing after gym, and spots a huge (poorly stitched) wound on his side. Dash is now convinced Danny is either abused or part of a gang, and has no idea how to deal with either - or how to interact with Danny, now that he can't bully him.

Summary: Dash didn't mean to see it, not that it was his fault. If Danny didn't want anyone to notice the bloody mess on his side, then he shouldn't be checking his bandages in the middle of the boy's changing room. But it's too late, and Dash has no clue what to do now that he thinks Danny might be getting hurt at home.

Word count: 4253

“He’s gonna know.”

As Tucker's shadow falls over him, Danny starts, rudely yanked out of his daydream. The hand cradling his chin drops to his lap, fingers brushing the grass, and he fixes Tucker with a confused glare. "What?"

"You are super unsubtle," Tucker says. "He's gonna knooow."

Tucker and singsong aren’t two words Danny would normally use together, but it is the best way to describe the lyrical bounce in Tucker's voice as he drops onto the grass. Too bad his musical prowess seems limited to teasing jabs and not the screeching caterwaul Danny usually associates with Tucker and singing.

"What are you talking about?" Danny asks, his annoyance mounting.

"Oh, come on." Tucker leans back and sweeps his arm out to the field, motioning to the warm-up game some of their classmates are playing, which Danny had been watching fervently until he was interrupted. His gaze skims over the scuffle taking place over the ball, settles briefly on Dash lounging in front one of the nets, then goes back to Tucker.

"I don't know what you mean," Danny says.

"Tucker, be nice. Don't tease the oblivious," Sam cuts in. Sitting on Danny's left, she is flipping through a book rather than watches the scrimmage. How she got the book past Tetslaff, Danny has no idea. Magic, maybe. The more likely answer is that Tetsflaff saw it and just didn't care since Sam one of the best students in their class.

Danny could never get away with it, though. "Seriously. What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, poor Danny." Tucker tsks and shakes his head. "In time, you, too, shall mature enough to understand your own emotions."

"I'm mature enough to ectoblast you in the face," Danny says.

"That is literally the exact opposite of mature."

"You're the exact opposite of mature."

"Game time!" Tetslaff's bellow cuts off what surely would have been a clever retort from Tucker. Her booming voice, powerful enough to challenge Danny's father's, echoes across the field and brings the scrimmage to a halt. At the far net, Dash rises to his feet and brushes the grass from his shorts.

"Captains!" Tetslaff calls. Valerie and Dash's hands shoot into the air, faster than anyone else's. Sam, still focused on her book, raises her hand half-heartedly, then lowers it to turn the page. No one else offers to be team captain, but Tetslaff doesn't seem to mind. This is how their classes usually go when they do team sports. "You know the drill. Pick your players, take your positions, and for heaven's sake, someone take Fenton."

Snickers break out through the class. Danny drops his face into his hands, muffling a groan against his palms.

He hates gym class for a lot of reasons. For one, sports aren't really his thing. He might be strong, thanks to his ghost half, but that doesn't make him any better at sports. Because of that, he's usually the last picked when it comes to games like soccer. And then there's Dash, who sucks sometimes, but he used to suck more. A lot more. He has mellowed out since freshman year, although he's not opposed to jostling Danny in the hallway now and then.

But the absolute worst thing about gym class is playing when he's injured; it doesn't happen often. Danny's been ghost fighting for nearly three years now, and he doesn't get hurt as much as he used to. Experience has wizened him up to the wonders of dodging. His enemies still get lucky sometimes, though, and last night, Technus got him good. Hacking and slashing isn't usually Technus' thing, but the rabid dishwasher the ghost sicked on Danny was damn good at it. He has the deep slash across his left side to show it.

It's healing well, but a wound like that needs more than a few hours before he is back in peak condition. Sam, whose house was closest after the fight, stitched Danny up as best as she could. Both she and Tucker had gotten good at that over the years, but for all Sam's skill, she was still just a high schooler who learned off YouTube tutorials. Before bed, Danny bound the wound tight, took a couple of Advil, and slept with an icepack slapped against his side.

It still hurts like hell, though.

A sharp whistle pierces Danny's thoughts. He winces at the noise, along with most of the class. Dash and Valerie, the victims of Tetslaff's ire, actually flinch.

"Baxter, Grey, stop bickering," Tetslaff says.

Caught up in his thoughts, Danny hadn't noticed their argument, but it's impossible to miss the tight anger in Valerie's crossed arms or the annoyance in Dash's glare.

"Baxter, Grey made her pick. Mr. Cheong goes with her." Tetslaff points at Kwan, then jerks her thumb toward Valerie. With a despondent sigh, Dash pats Kwan on the back, watching his best friend trudge to Valerie's team as if he was going to his grave.

"They're so dramatic," Danny says.

Tucker nods in agreement. "I know, right?"

Sam lowers her book to stare at them. "You cannot be serious."

"What did we say?" Danny asks.

Sam sighs and rolls her eyes but doesn't elaborate further.

Back on the field, Valerie gestures to the dwindling number of classmates yet to be claimed. "Your next pick," she says to Dash.

Dash scans the lineup, his gaze lingering on Danny for a few moments before skipping right over Tucker to Sam. "Manson, you're with me."

"Ugh, of course." Sam marks her page and passes the book to Danny. "You gonna be okay? How's your side?"

He holds back a grimace. "I'm good. I'll tell Tetslaff I'm sick or something so I can sit out."

Sam nods, satisfied, and joins Dash's team.

"Tucker!" Valerie calls.

"Good luck, dude." Tucker gently pats Danny's shoulder before stepping onto the field.

With his friends gone, and the rest of the class distracted by the team pick, Danny shuffles over to Tetslaff. "I don't really feel good. Can I sit out?"

Tetslaff looks him up and down. "You gonna throw up?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"You got a fever?" Before Danny can even answer, Tetslaff slaps her hand against his forehead. He flinches back, wanting nothing more than to peel her warm palm off his skin. She holds it there for a few seconds before finally drawing away. "No fever. got a doctor's note?"

"Uh... no? I've been at school all morning."

"If you feel like you're about to throw up, book it off the field. Otherwise, you're playing."

"But—"

"Fenton, do you really want to be the only kid in Casper High history to fail gym class?" Tetslaff asks.

The threat might have been more effective if Danny hadn't spent half his high school career one bad grade away from flunking out, but he doesn't have the energy to fight her on it. "Okay, Coach."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and show me some hustle!" Tetslaff slaps Danny on the back. He bites back a cry of pain as he stumbles forward, one hand shooting to cradle his side. Tetslaff's hand, though broad, missed the actual injury, but the sheer impact made his bones rattle and his wound flair with pain.

"Okay," Danny mutters. Just stay out of Dash's way and move enough to escape Tetslaff ire. It can't be that hard. He presses a hand to his side, feeling the thick gauze through his shirt. Closing eyes so that no one sees them glow, he phases his palm through his shirt and ices over his injury. The numbing cold helps, somewhat, and it should hold up for the whole class.

"I can do this." He falters when he steps toward the field. It looks like Valerie and Dash finished picking their teams while he was busy with Tetslaff and the game is already underway. He hovers on the sideline, unsure where to go.

"Getting worked up already?" Valerie's voice startles him.

Danny flinches and twists toward her, sending a sharp twinge across his ribs. He hisses, regretting the sudden move, and squeezes his side once more.

"You okay?" Valerie asks.

"Just fine. Sorry, what did you say?"

"You look like you're stressed out already. It's just soccer."

Danny rolls his eyes and nudges her arm. "Sure. Tell me that when Dash's team is up by five and I have stop you from kicking his kneecaps in."

Valerie laughs, no denial falling from her lips. "Oh, please. We both know I'd go for the throat. You're with me, by the way."

"Oh, thank God."

"Don't kid yourself, Danny. We both know you'd love to be on Dash's team."

Danny's mind blanks for a moment, his cheeks growing hot against his will. "Uh... what? He literally used to beat me up every day."

"Keyword, 'used to.' And I never said you had good taste." Valerie shrugs. "Except for me, at least. But don't worry about it. Now come on; I want you on defence. You suck at scoring, but at least you can take a hit."

Danny hopes he doesn't need to.

—

No hits come his way, to Danny's immense relief. At least they are playing soccer and not football. Or floor hockey, God forbid. Danny's ankles still smart from the last time they played that. With soccer, there's not a whole lot of opportunity for Danny to get knocked around. Stuck on defence, he even has an excuse to hang back, hold off on all that "hustle" Tetslaff wanted to see. His teammates charge up and down the field, shouting and jeering as they fight over the ball, and Danny gets to trail behind, halfway between the throng and his team's net. He spends most of his time watching Dash. Purely so that he's ready if Dash decides to go after him, not for any other reasons.

"Suuure that's the reason," Tucker says when he notices Danny staring.

"It is!" Danny's protest falls on deaf ears.

Dash catches Danny's gaze more than once. Rather than looking away, Danny can't resist offering a shit-eating grin and a friendly wave every time. If he had any self-preservation skills, he would stop immediately. But there's a reason he's half-ghost now, and it's definitely not because of his critical thinking skills.

He manages to stay out of the action, for the most part, only rushing in when the ball comes close to him. Otherwise, Tucker and Elliot handle the rest. Tucker knowingly spares him the pain of ripping his stitches. Elliot, meanwhile, likes to swoop in at every opportunity to show Danny up. It might have gotten a rise out of Danny any other day, but right now, when his side throbs every time he takes a step, Elliot is welcome to do whatever he wants.

When they have class outside, Danny can't tell how much time is left. He guesses they are about halfway through, and nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe he can get through this, after all.

That's when he jinxes himself.

"Heads up!" Valerie's warning shout comes just in time. Danny ducks instinctively, hissing when his injury pulls. The soccer ball flies over his head, skimming the top of his hair. Then, Dash collides with Danny, his shoulder digging into Danny's side. He cries out as he goes sprawling, hands shooting to his side. It burns, searing across his ribs, almost as bad as when he first got the wound. The pain makes his head spin and his breath ragged.

He must blackout for a moment, because one second his face is pressed against the cool grass, and then suddenly he's staring up into Tetsalff's concerned face, Valerie, Sam, and Tucker hovering behind her.

"Deep breaths, Fenton," Tetslaff says.

It would be great advice if breathing didn't make his chest expand, and his chest expanding didn't make the gash on his side strain against the few stitches that hadn't popped when Dash rammed into him at full speed. What the hell. That was such a dick move.

"Okay, Fenton. You're out for the rest of the class. Go to the nurse if you need to," Tetslaff says.

He nods but makes no move to get up. He doesn't know if he can.

Tetslaff sees his plight, whether she understands the reason for it or not, and barks over her shoulder. "Baxter! Your fault, your problem. Help Fenton inside."

"We can take him," Tucker says. At the same time, Dash whines, "Come on, Coach. There's no way I hit him that hard."

Tetslaff sticks out an arm, holding Sam and Tucker back. "Get to it, Baxter."

Dash groans but relents and steps into Danny's field of view. Rather than kneeling, or doing anything actually helpful, he bends down a little and sticks out his hand.

Danny stares at it.

"Well? You're holding up the game, Fenton."

Danny almost gets up on his own, just to spite Dash, but the second he tries to lever himself up, his side screams, and Danny has to bite back another cry of pain. Reluctantly, he grabs Dash's hand. Dash hauls him upright, far from gentle, and sets Danny down on his feet. Dash starts forward, but Danny hangs back.

"Hurry up," Dash says.

"Just... hold on a second." Danny squeezes his eyes shuts and clamps his hands against his side. The pressure helps, a little. If he's bleeding, it'll at least hide the evidence. He really hopes he put enough gauze on the wound. He didn't exactly think he'd be dealing with this today when he wrapped it.

"Dude, we can take you," Tucker says. He and Sam haven't moved away. Even Valerie still hovers close by, giving Danny a concerned look over his friends' shoulders.

"Manson, you're team captain until Dash gets back. Foley." Tetslaff shakes her head. "Your grades aren't much better than Fenton's here. Let's go, back on the field. It's game time.

"But—"

"It's fine, guys." Danny tries to smile, but he is sure it comes out like a grimace instead. Neither of them look like they believe him.

"Ms. Tetslaff!" Valerie steps in front of the teacher. "Danny's on my team. I want to make sure he's okay. Kwan can take over as captain for me."

"Okay, fine. Now let's get back to the game, people!" Tetslaff puts a hand on Sam and Tucker's shoulder each and pushes them toward the field. Over her shoulder, Sam mouths "Thank you" at Valerie.

"Can we just hurry up?" Dash says. Before Danny is ready, Dash's hand clamps down his shoulder and starts driving him forward. Danny stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and is forced to open his eyes or else go tumbling all over again. Valerie appears on his injured side, walking fast to keep up with Dash's pace.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She reaches toward Danny, but holds back, her gaze flitting down to the hand over his ribs.

"Yeah, totally fine. I, uh, got caught up in that ghost fight yesterday, got a little bruised," he says.

"You should have told Tetslaff. She would have let you sit out," Valerie says.

"Yeah, I should have." Too bad Danny hadn't thought of that lie before. And it wasn't even a lie, technically.

The walk to the gym doors feels much farther than it did at the start of class. Dash yanks the door open once they're close enough and deposits Danny on the nearest bench. "There, you're fine. Whatever."

"Don't be such a dick, Dash," Valerie says.

Danny wobbles, bracing himself against the wall as he sits down. While Valerie helps, grabbing his arm and keeping him steady, Dash doesn't make a move.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna sit for a bit."

"If you say so." With one last concerned glance, Valerie leaves the gym.

Danny sits, one hand pressed against his side, feeling the deep, pulsing ache that won't leave. The ice he applied earlier hasn't faded yet, but if Danny's stitches are ripped as he suspects, a little numbing cold won't help for much longer.

Dash clears his throat, reminding Danny that he hasn't left yet.

"What?" Danny glares at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Sorry, or whatever. I thought you were gonna move, okay?"

"You sure sound sorry."

Dash bristles. "Whatever, Fenton. I was trying to be nice, but I guess I'll just fuck off then."

"Yeah, you do that."

Dash stomps out of the gym without looking back, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoes through the empty room. Alone at last, a whimper slips through Danny's lips. You would think that, over the years, he would get used to getting injured so much, learn to adjust to the pain. Whoever first said that was such a liar. It never stops hurting. Dizzying pain is dizzying pain no matter how often you experience it.

Danny sits for a few minutes, breathing slow and even, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. Peeling his hand away from his side, he checks his shirt. Faint pink splotches greet his eyes, not a lot, but enough to make him groan. He reaches under his shirt, slipping his fingers underneath the bandages, and probes the tender skin. His fingers come away slick and red.

"Shit." He applies a fresh coat of ice, enough to seal over the wound, and pushes himself off the bet, slick hand sliding against the wood. The entrance to the boys' changeroom lies only a few feet away, but it feels farther. He shuffles inside, bracing one hand against the wall. The hall leading in stretches for a good ten feet before cutting into a sharp right angle and opening into the main room.

The silence inside is just as oppressive as the quiet of the gym. Even though it's the middle of the school day, being here without the chatter of other boys as they change feels odd.

Danny lets himself slump onto the bench, breathing heavily

"I'm gonna kill Dash," he says to the empty room. But knowing his luck, Dash would come back as a ghost and haunt the hell out of him. It seems like the kind of asshole thing he would do

Danny fumbles for his bag, hooking his finger around the strap and dragging it close. It takes him a minute of digging to find his phone, which he stuffed inside at the start of class. He quickly checks the time. There are ten minutes left of class. More than enough time to check his side and get patched up before Tetslaff dismisses everyone to get changed.

The smart thing would be to go into one of the showers, make sure he has complete privacy, but he doesn't want to put in the effort of walking that far.

"It'll be fine," Danny says and gets to work

—

Dash doesn't return to the game. As the gym door slams beside him, he leans against the wall and stares down at his shoes. Outside, he looks composed, but in his head, his thoughts tumble about. He can't shake the image of Valerie's glare. Fenton couldn't take a hit, so what? It's not like Dash actually didanything. He's gotten Fenton a lot worse than that before. It's not his fault the guy was already banged up from some dumb ghost fight. Not his problem.

And yet, the pained cry as Dash bowled Danny over, the sight of his crumpled body on the grass... it makes Dash shudder.

"I apologized," he says. There's no one around to hear it, to justify him. He wonders what his therapist will say about this, if Dash bothers mentioning it at their next appointment.

Valerie's glare flashes through his mind again.

"Okay, fine!" He throws his arms up and shoves away from the wall. One quick moment to check on Danny, then he'll return to the game. He's only doing this so that his therapist doesn't give him that look on Monday; the look that isn't quite disappointed, because she could never be disappointed in one of her clients, but comes pretty damn close.

Dash only receives that look when he does something dumb, like shoving nerds in lockers or taking his anger out on someone else.

Dash eases the door to the gym back open and peeks inside. The bench he left Danny on is empty. A smear of red stands out against the pale wood. Dash creeps inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His heart sinks as he nears the bench, and comes to the unmistakable conclusion: blood.

Not my fault, Dash reminds himself. It does little in the way of reassurance. Walking briskly, he heads for the doors leading further into the school. If Danny is bleeding, he must have gone to the nurse. Which means he will be fine, but Dash needs to be sure.

A low groan stops him in his tracks.

For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, but then it comes again, accompanied by a pained hiss. The sound comes from the changing room. Holding his breath, he turns from the door and enters the changeroom.

Short, sharp breaths greet him, growing louder as he nears the main room. A shaky whimper cuts through, followed by a gasp.

Dash peeks around the corner. He sees Danny's shirt first, discarded on the bench. Next to it is a pile of wrappings. It looks like the ace bandages Dash uses whenever he gets a sprain, although he doesn't remember seeing Danny wearing any. And then, he looks to Danny himself and pales.

One arm drawn back, head tilted forward to see his side, Danny peels a stained gauze pad away from his bloody ribs. Suddenly, Dash can't breathe. His throat feels clogged. His heart hammers in his ear. The gash in Danny's side is easily the length of Dash's hand. It rips across his ribs and curves up toward his armpit, ending just under his arm. Dash doesn't know much about first aid, but the stitches holding the wound together look sloppy. They pull in different directions, turning what appears to be a clean cut into a wobbly mess. Around it, Danny's skin is stained red. Blood seeps between the stitches.

A few small drops slide down Danny's exposed skin as Dash watches, pooling briefly against the waistband of his gym shorts before they are absorbed

"Fuck," Dash whispers.

Danny jumps back, spinning mid-air to face Dash. In his horror, Dash doesn't think to question the impossibility of that action. Danny drops the gauze pad, which lands bloody side down on the floor, and clamps his arm down over the injury.

"What are you doing?" Danny's voice hitches, caught between an accusing growl and a startled squeak.

Dash gapes, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. His mind comes up blank. "Danny, what... what the hell? What happened to you?"

Dash's voice seems to snap Danny out of his shock. All at once, his body goes rigid and his expression turns cold. "Get out."

"You need to go to the nurse!"

"DASH!" Danny bellows.

Dash stumbles back, falling against the wall. Tetslaff's laugh voice is loud. Jack Fenton's voice booms. But just now, Dash felt the floor shake under his feet. Danny's voice rumbled in Dash's chest, knocked him off his feet. The whole school must have heard it, they had to.

"I won't say it again. Get the hell out right now," Danny says.

Dash obeys. Whether it's out of fear or a genuine desire to follow Danny's will, he can't tell. He books it out of the changeroom, across the gym, and bursts outside, only to come face to face with Kwan and the rest of the class.

"Whoa!" Kwan reels back in surprise. "You missed the rest of the game. Val's team won."

"Oh, the game. Right." Dash takes a deep breath, struggling to get himself under control.

"So... you gonna let us in?"

Dash doesn't move.

"Get out of the way, Dash," Valerie says. Pushing to the front of the group, she tries to shove past him.

Dash leaps in front of her. "No!" He can't let anyone else see Danny.

"Dude, not cool. We want to check on Danny," Tucker says.

Dash wavers. Danny's friends have to know what's up with him, right? There is no way he could have stitched that up himself, not with how much struggle it took to even look at the injury. When Tucker and Sam slip by Dash, he makes no move to stop them. Their entrance opens the floodway, and soon enough everyone is pushing past Dash into the gym.

"Wait!" He latches on to Kwan's arm as his best friend passes.

"Did something happen?" Kwan asks.

Dash swallows, unsure how to answer. "Sort of?" Now isn't the right time to tell Kwan, though, not with their classmates around them, and the rest of their friends absent.

"Let's go get changed." Kwan pats Dash's shoulder and guides him forward. Every step closer to the change room, Dash's anxiety mounts. Danny reacted so poorly to one person finding him. Dash can only imagine what will happen—what stricken look Danny will wear—when half their class walks in on his shirtless and bloody.

Except, when they turn the corner into the change room proper, Danny isn't there. His stuff is gone, too. Tucker's crumpled gym shirt covers the spot where the gauze pad landed. There are no signs Danny was there at all.

Next

[legends-live-in-memories]

First Friend

AYO im back with biodad!bruce wayne day 2! lets see how long i keep going

Maribat Masterlist  AO3  @maribat-bdbwm 

Day 1

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary:

“You’re rude.”

It was just two words. Two very simple, honest words but they were enough to send the blonde eleven year old girl into hysterics.

The story on how 11-year-old Marinette made her first friend

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 2- Family/Friends

without further ado:

“You’re rude.”

It was just two words. Two very simple, honest words but they were enough to send the blonde eleven year old girl into hysterics. She was going on some tirade about her father and how he would never allow Marinette to talk about her like that. It made little sense to her because her maman had always told her to speak about her feelings openly. Hiding how she felt about someone who she was not actively trying to deceive was a waste of energy, her maman had explained. Marinette wholeheartedly agreed. Just imagining trying to keep the blonde girl happy at all times added ten pounds of weight to her shoulders. Her heart went out to the little redhead trying to do just that. Was that what friends do?

Marinette’s never had friends before. She was the only child in her village. The Guardians, she had learned, lived longer than their peers so they chose to live in seclusion, away from anything that could corrupt their world view or challenge them. They recruited in secret, always older people, people who have seen the world and wished to correct it. Marinette, being born into the way of the Order of the Guardians, knew very little of society. The elders sought to correct that. First, she was introduced to her father—who she discovered was a bit of a recluse despite living and protecting a heavily populated city—then the elders decided that she would live in one of the cultural centers of the world. Paris, France; home to a little over two million people and a hot spot for tourists. No better place to learn about the world than somewhere that has entertained the rest of the world.

She had been enrolled in school and was introduced to almost a dozen children her age. She memorized their names and faces and whatever random information she gathered from observation. A short blonde girl named Rose loved to collect bugs but the boy named Max hated them. He liked something called video games, Marinette noted to ask her parents about that later. The other blonde girl in her class, a girl named Chloé, was the daughter of the mayor and she liked to make sure everyone remembered. Everyone. She was also a brat and loud and rude and Marinette was rather upfront when she told her such. Which led to her current situation.

“You’re rude,” she had said. She was standing in front of a shy girl with pretty locs, Mylène, blocking her from Chloé’s view.

“I’m not rude!” the blonde shrieked. “I was just telling her that her headband was ugly and it belonged in the trash where she found it!”

“It doesn’t matter where she got it,” Marinette didn’t think she found it in the trash but people were weird and she didn’t want to be wrong just in case. Regardless it was still a cute pink headband with flowers. “You don’t get to call people’s things ugly.”

“And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Chloé had crossed her arms and was pouting and not even looking at them anymore. Marinette felt hot frustration boil under her skin. She didn’t like how the girl wouldn’t even look at them. “My daddy’s the mayor and I can do whatever I want!”

Who cared who her father was? That didn’t mean she got to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. If that were the case then Marinette was untouchable. Her frustration grew and she had no control over herself anymore. Her small body could only hold so much anger and, despite her teachers’ best efforts, she inherited her papa’s quick temper. The words were out and Marinette regretted them before she could stop herself from saying them.

“Well, my dad is Batman!”

Silence.

No one spoke and Marinette was already beating herself up for the misstep. She shouldn’t have said that! That was classified information and she shouldn’t be using her family’s business to win petty arguments. That would make her no better than Chloé. How could she fix this? She had to fix this.

“Yeah and my dad’s Superman!” yelled a new voice. Kim, this tall kid from another class, had joined in the argument. He stood slightly off to the side, drowning in a big red hoodie with his chest puffed out and posing.

“My mom is Wonder Woman!”

“My uncle is the Flash!”

One by one more of her classmates started to shout out how they were ‘related’ to various members of the Justice League until all that could be heard was a cacophony of names and laughter.

“Ugh, whatever, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé huffed and stomped in place but her voice could barely be heard over the other children. Marinette watched as she realised she was being ignored before grabbing the redheaded girl and pulling away from the crowd.

“Umm, thank you,” Marinette heard a voice directly behind her ear, as timid as a mouse. She turned to face the girl she was protecting, Mylène, and offered her her best attempt at a reassuring smile. “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that but I’m glad you did.”

“Of course, I really like your headband so I didn’t want what Chloé said to get to you.”

“You really like it?” Marinette watched as she slowly, almost afraid to touch it, reached for her headband. The wonder in her eyes made pride in Marinette’s tiny frame. She did the right thing standing up for her!

“Yes! I really do!”

“Thank you, do you,” the girl paused and squared her shoulders, looking Marinette intently with a furrow to her brows, “do you want to be friends with me?”

Friends? Marinette has never made a friend before. Is that what the Guardians wanted from her by sending her here? Friends meant trust but she was a Guardian in training. That meant she would have to keep secrets. Could she do that? Keep such secrets from a friend? Did she want friends? What would her father do? Did Batman have friends? Did she want to be like Batman? Before an answer to any of those questions could come to her, Mylène spoke out again.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” she tried to reassure Marinette but by the look in her eyes, the cloudiness and the slight red tint, Marinette knew that her lack of an answer deeply hurt the girl.

“No! I do want to be friends!” She was quick to quell the other girl’s worries, not wanting to form any misunderstandings. It appears they both could need a friend. Even though she had never accounted for them in the Guardians’ plans for her, Marinette believed friends were exactly what she needed. And the Justice League were Batman’s friends so it was obviously the right choice.

She would need to discuss with her mother going forward but she still did well today. She was honest, stood up for someone and even though she accidentally outed her father, nothing bad happened. She just needed to be more cautious next time, to be more level-headed. There was no harm, no foul.

Besides, having friends never hurt anybody, right?