Suspicious Popsicle

CREATURE FEATURE:

Vampires:

Breakfast in Bed

WEI WUXIAN: VAMPIRE HUNTER (series)

Monsterfuckers:

The Adventures of Wei Ying, Ancient and Powerful Mimic, and Some People He Promised not to Eat (series)

The Cultivator's Dream (series)

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Remnant

an extant form of life

TROPES & SPECIFIC AUs:

Rule 63:

chick fics (series)

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Lucky Charms

Omegaverse:

Knot Funny

The Old Factory, + follow-up

Worth

Kidfic:

Condolences

A Little Happiness

Sci-fi:

Human

Pride & Prejudice AU:

The Extremely Self-Indulgent and not at all Serious Pride and Prejudice AU (series)

Tattoo Artist AU:

wishes inked beneath your skin

Band AU:

B-Side

Sci-fi and Omegaverse:

snippet

Sci-fi and Rule 63 and Regency-Inspired:

snippet 1, snippet 2

MAGIC:

Urban Fantasy/Modern Cultivators:

Catching Your Reflection Passing By

Lucky Charms

Night Bus

WEI WUXIAN: VAMPIRE HUNTER (series)

wishes inked beneath your skin

Magical Canon Alteration:

Clarity

Gratitude

Lying on the Edge of a Star

Nine Lives

Fairy Tales:

A-Yuan and the Crow

The Dragon of Candyland

gentian curse

The Lightbearer and the Toad

Uncle Death

Inspired by Mythology/Folktales:

Feather and Claw

Songbird

SEXY TIMES!

Breaking Through (series)

The Cultivator's Dream (series)

Heat

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Remnant

Sofa

ASSORTED FICS:

Fics Dealing With LWJ's Childhood/Mother:

Clarity

A Little Happiness

Remembrance

Character Study:

Brand

Cheap Wine and Shooting Stars

Keep Your Secret

Remembrance

you've been away for so long

Humor:

Knot Funny

The Ribbon Incident

It was a simple, yet lovely room with a tatami floor and walls of rice paper partitions. Beautiful silk cushions in a deep burgundy speckled with tiny, embroidered plum blossoms were laid two and two across from each other at the black lacquered table. There was an alcove along the single, solid wall which held a painting of a pine tree and an elegant example of ikebana.

As Dazai stared at the flowers, mind puzzling over a potential information leak he had noticed, and wondering if it was worth trying to recruit a new gang forming near the port, or if he ought to simply wait for them to make trouble and crush them, a soft tap came at the door. It slid softly open as he turned to look, and there was Chuuya in his beautiful furisode, head already lowered as he knelt just outside and sank into a low bow that showed off his painted nape. His dangling kanzashi nearly swept the floor, the chimes whispering a greeting in their sweet, ringing tones. The helix of his carefully curled lock of hair did actually touch the floor, showing off copper and bronze highlights, and looking abnormally and enticingly silky. Dazai noticed his hands, folded gracefully in front of him. His nails had been painted with a translucent, shimmering gold.

“Please excuse the wait, okyakusama. Thank you for reques—” Raising his head, he finally got a look at Dazai, and immediately dropped the act. “The hell are you doing here?” he demanded with a scowl.

“Boooo. Zero points. You fail.”

Dazai turned his face away as Chuuya got to his feet—gracefully, yes, but with the strength of a predator, rather than the suppleness of a willow branch. There was nothing soft or feminine in his movements as he hurriedly shut the door and took the few steps to the table where he knelt, one forearm braced on the tabletop as he reached out to grab Dazai's lapel and yank him close.

“You can't be here,” Chuuya hissed.

Dazai's gaze flicked over to look directly at him for just a moment before sliding away again. The eyeliner did sort of suit him, really, especially when he was glaring like that. It was still strange seeing him actually look so small and delicate—although the first was merely an inescapable fact of biology, Chuuya wouldn't know delicate if it bit him. He was...pretty, Dazai supposed, as far as faces went. Fair enough features for a brat as liable to bare his fangs as smile. The makeup didn't so much reveal that as emphasize aspects of it: making his eyes seem larger, his cheekbones more defined, his lower lip plush and enticing. It was, of course, all ridiculous. Chuuya was born into the world already wed to violence. If he had a red string of fate, it was tied to conflict and strife. They say a woman is most beautiful when she's in love. For Chuuya, that held true of him when he was pushed to his absolute limits, clawing and tearing at the slimmest scraps of victory like a feral dog, and invariably rising to the fullest, most beautiful heights of his potential from the muck and chaos of whatever battle he'd chosen. Red in tooth and claw, the lipstick and nail polish he wore felt like a joke.

“Of course I can. It's open to the public, I have a reservation—”

“Do you, Watanabe-san?”

“—and Kouyou-san has yet to blacklist me. I have every right to be here.”

“You've got no reason to be here. Tell me why I shouldn't throw your ass out.”

“I'm a paying customer,” he said, as if reciting a script. “You can't treat me like this.”

“You haven't paid for shit yet.”

“Then I'd like to place an order. Sencha, a plate of wagashi, a double order of senbei, and anything the kitchen is doing with fresh crab today. Oh, and a serving of daifuku.”

Chuuya stared at him for a long moment, as if Dazai had lost his mind. Then he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Sure thing, okyakusama. Whatever you want, okyakusama.”

“A little respect would be nice.”

Snorting, Chuuya made to stand up. “I always give you as little respect as possible, mackerel.”

He got his feet under him, but hadn't accounted for the hem of his under robe. It snagged beneath his toes, causing him to topple forward. He caught himself with a hand on Dazai's shoulder, even as Dazai was reaching to steady him at the waist.

He smelled like peonies.

In the soft, submissive tone he'd used when he had first arrived, Chuuya whispered near Dazai's ear: “I apologize for my clumsiness, okyakusama.”

His kanzashi tugged gently at stray strands of Dazai's hair as he straightened up. Before he could fully turn away, Dazai caught the curve of a smirk on his lips, and then Chuuya was kneeling in front of the door, folding himself back down into his role as he slid the door open, stepped outside, and knelt again to close it. For just an instant, one of his eyes met Dazai's through the narrowing gap, sparkling like the waters of the port in summer. Then he was gone, and the breath that had caught in Dazai's throat escaped him in a confused huff.

What in the hell had that been about? He could feel goosebumps all up and down his arms. Who taught Chuuya to talk like that? It was creepy!

Growing antsier by the second, and not wanting to think about the strange Chuuya doppelganger Kouyou had created, Dazai pulled out his handheld to play a game while he waited. It wasn't entirely successful at focusing his thoughts, but it helped. By the time he heard the soft tap at the door which signaled Chuuya's return, he was feeling mostly settled once more. Pretending his focus was on the game, he watched from beneath his lashes as Chuuya slid the door open, one hand gracefully holding back his sleeve. Taking up the tray laden with tea and snacks, he rose easily, stepped inside, then knelt and set down the tray again to slide the door closed. He was a perfect pantomime of elegant service for the entire time he remained in view of anyone who might pass by outside the private booth. The moment there was no longer any chance of being observed, however, his entire demeanor changed. It was fascinating to watch the shift, because it was subtle. Chuuya had collected himself while he'd been gone, and the anger that surprise had allowed off the leash was nowhere to be seen. But the set of his shoulders was different—no longer turned slightly inward, but wider, without being squared. His brows had lowered, the faint smile softening his mouth was gone. His steps as he crossed to the table were too wide, his motions far too careless as he set the tray on the table in front of Dazai and waved a hand over the food.

“Dig in,” he said, settling himself down opposite. He grimaced as he tried to get comfortable, and Dazai could guess that he was annoyed he couldn't fully drop the act and sprawl while still wrapped in the furisode.

“Aren't you supposed to pour the tea?”

“I'm supposed to sell an act, but it ain't like you're buyin'. Pour your own tea.”

Dazai sighed. “This place has really gone downhill. The service used to be impeccable. I suppose it can't be helped, given how short-staffed they are.”

“Ha fuckin' ha.”

Arms crossed, he watched Dazai pour himself a cup of tea and nibble at a cracker. His expression grew more impatient by the second, until he was drumming his fingers on his arm and visibly biting back the urge to speak. Dazai waited him out. It wasn't difficult.

“Well?” Chuuya snapped. “Lay it out!”

“Lay what out?” He nudged the daifuku toward Chuuya. “Have some. They pair better with matcha.”

“The plan! That's why you're here, right? You have some plan worked out for my job.”

“Why would I?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “It's your assignment. I'm only here for the food, the atmosphere, and some stimulating conversation.” He took a sip of his tea. “Pity about the latter, but I suppose two out of three isn't bad.”

“You cannot seriously be here just to yank my chain.”

Reaching out, Dazai caught the twining lock of his hair and tugged gently. “You aren't wearing any chains,” he said with a smile, letting the hair slip from his fingers. It had been oddly satisfying and, unfortunately, left him with the urge to do it again.

Chuuya batted at his retreating hand. “If you mess up my hair, I'll kill you. Even Ane-san was getting frustrated with it.”

“So violent.” Lured by the forbidden, his hand darted out to tug Chuuya's hair again. “Have there been any casualties yet?”

“You'll be the first,” Chuuya growled, grabbing his hand and bending it painfully back.

“Ow! Owww! Chuuuuya! What are you doing biting the hand that feeds you?”

“You sure as shit don't sign my paychecks, you waste of bandages!”

“Who said anything about paychecks? I literally offered you treats!”

The moment Chuuya pulled his hand away, Dazai snatched it back, cradling it against his chest and trying to look as pathetic and helpless as he knew how. Chuuya merely sneered at the act.

“Are you trying to get me to mess up my makeup?”

“They're daifuku, and you're an unmannered cretin. Just unhinge your jaw and swallow them whole.”

Fixing him with a flat stare, Chuuya picked up a daifuku between index and thumb and lifted it to his lips. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go, teeth glinting as his lips drew back. The morsel and his fingers fit neatly without touching, and he withdrew his hand, giving Dazai a good look at the white lump sitting on his tongue before he closed his mouth.

Ah.

Huh.

That....

Was it getting warmer? The room felt very warm. Poor ventilation, probably. Chuuya must have been melting in those layers.

A thick silence fell between them as Chuuya chewed his daifuku, and Dazai sipped at his tea. Usually, he would be glad of a little quiet from his yappy mutt, but at the moment, it felt as if Chuuya had won, somehow, despite the fact that he'd basically only followed Dazai's suggestion.

The sound of Chuuya swallowing seemed abnormally loud in the silence. Avidly, Dazai's eye tracked the movement of his throat. He thought again of the white deposit on Chuuya's tongue, of the heavy-lidded look in his eyes as he'd stared while showing it off.

Ah...fuck.

Of all the things he didn't need.

“Hey.”

Dazai kept himself from snapping, but only just. He fixed a bland smile on his face. “Yes?” he said, quite pleasantly, considering his revelation.

“If you're gonna be showing up here to annoy me, I want a favor in return.”

“Oh? Such as?”

The smirk that stretched across Chuuya's face did not bode well. It was also, to Dazai's equal dismay and fascination, incredibly hot.