#Surprisingly I didn’t completely lose my mind this time… I’m proud of myself for not dropping it when I realized there was a problem

[sluttish-armchair]

After getting the third (leftmost) giant telescreen in, I put the seats in with my formula, making a line down the middle and putting seats four blocks away from that center line, and spacing them eight apart.

But after finishing the first row of the leftmost telescreen, I noticed the columns/aisleways between the seats were uneven, and the one on the left was too narrow. I thought I had spaced everything perfectly and was naturally like “what the fuck did I do?” and generally extremely pissed off about it.

But! I persisted.

After about thirty minutes of troubleshooting and remeasuring, I determined that the leftmost telescreen was 125 voxels wide, when the others were 133, and that the leftmost telescreen was 9 voxels away from the wall when the rightmost telecreen was 13 away from the wall. Furthermore, the leftmost one and the rightmost one were spaced unevenly from the center telescreen.

Basically I did a lot of math to decrease the size of all telescreens to 125, space them evenly from the walls, and from the center screen. Now all I have to do is move over every single seat I made by 5 in the center, and 6 on the right hand side.

[jaagos-dirty-journal]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head…

Going with My Bratty Sub to the Park

After spending the morning properly hydrating with my babygirl, we take the car to the park at the edge of town. She gave me a little bit of lip since it was raining outside, but I like the rain. I tell her that she’ll just have to deal.

I think we hydrated a little too well, because I can already start to feel it, and the rain isn’t helping. I look over at her as she looks back at me with a pouty face. Nothing more, so perhaps she isn’t feeling it herself yet. Due to the rain, the park is empty when we get there. I get an idea.

“Honey, let’s leave our jackets in the car. I wanna get soaked!” She tries to pout, but a chuckle escapes her lips. We take off our jackets and deposit them before walking in. It isn’t long before we’re totally drenched, and quite cold. I start to think about how nice it would be to warm up my pants… She wouldn’t even know! I stop myself as I remember that I was supposed to be providing an example for her. If I can hold, she can hold.

We arrive at a park bench at the same moment that the sun breaks out from behind the clouds, and the rain disappears. I’m starting to feel desperate, so I sit her down and we make out in order to take my mind off of it. I can feel by the way that her body is moving that she must be really wet by now, naughty little thing. That reminded me, she put on a heavy pad before we left the house! She said she didn’t want me to know she’d peed until it was more than just a couple drops or a spurt.

I felt as if devil horns were growing out of my head as I gave her an especially evil grin. Her eyes got wide as she said, “what? What are you about to do?” I stood up and pulled her up with me, and I bent down to whisper in her ear, “unzip your jeans, Honey.” “NOT FAIR!” She pouted.

As she unzipped her jeans, I unzipped mine. The newly warm air was surprisingly pleasant on my cock; I took a deep shuddering breath. I had to be sure that I could control it. Just a little bit to take the edge off. I could do that…

I pulled her closer by the waistband of her panties, and saw that she was indeed wet, but only in the way I allowed at the moment. Not for long though… I stuffed my semi-hard cock down until I could feel the pad, and her lips. Mmmmfff. Then I try to relax.

I always get so aroused when I do things like this, and that always makes it harder, but finally I feel it come. Fuuuuuck. It felt soooo good. I think I can get away with another one. Oh shit. That may have been too much… Her pad feels very full. I hold very still and squeeze, trying not to let another singular drop out.

She feels all of this happening and suddenly her facade drops. She’s squirming all around, mumbling about how it’s unfair that I get to do this and she doesn’t. I pull her face up by her chin. “Honey, you’re doing such a good job right now.” I feel her relax onto me as she lets out a sigh and a grin grows out of her frown. Then I feel her tense back up again as a little warmth grows on top of my cock, and her face begins to turn red. She looks up at me sheepishly, and I begin to lose control. I feel like I turn into an animal whenever this happens, but I can’t stop it. Suddenly her pants are around her ankles, followed swiftly by her now wet panties.

I rut into her without any warning, but she was ready for me, the horny little thing. My cock was just wet and warm, but this was a completely different feeling. Total ecstasy… This time we came together, and I shot my seed deep inside her. She moaned in satisfaction as she felt me throb while every bit of my load was dumped into her wet little cunt. I told her how proud of her I was, not pissing herself as I thrusted into her again and again. We righted our clothes and sat down on the bench again, this time with her on my lap, turned towards me so we could continue mashing our flushed faces together.

It was just in time too, because a cute young couple turned the corner at that very moment. They picked up their pace because our fervent kissing made them uncomfortable. Silly kids. They were probably the only ones, because it looked like it was going to rain again. Shortly after they passed, it did. Soon we were soaking wet again, and the rain reminded me that I had a very full bladder. The young couple soon ran past us on their way to the parking lot, giving us a funny look. My attention turned back to my little troublemaker quickly due to the Hickey she was planting on my neck. I stifle a groan and a simultaneous gasp as my lap starts to get warm. How could I lose control! I realized that I hadn’t when I heard hear moan her relief into my ear.

Thank fuck I thought, as I slowly relaxed and let my flow go as well. I cannot describe how good it felt, other than to share that I moaned, and groaned, and sighed, “ffffuuuuuuuuuuuccckkkk” into my baby’s ear. We basked in the warmth until it was gone, and then we got up and walked back to the car.

“Thank you soooo much for finally taking me to the park today, Daddy,” she said, “ I told you we’d have a good time.” I bent down and kissed her on top of her head. “That’s my girl,” I whispered through a grin.

Thank you for reading 😘

[pitch-pearl-void]

Old birthday present for @ectoblood who wanted Phantom and Danny to go to prom together (AU where Danny met Phantom as his own person)

A hand touched Danny’s, but when he turned to look, no one was there. Danny returned his attention to the dance and spread his fingers apart. Invisible fingers slipped into the resulting gap and folded over his hand, squeezing. Danny’s lips twitched into a small smile, relief loosening his tense muscles, excitement quickening his heart.

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” he said. The music was loud enough to hide the conversation, and anyway, who would notice?

“I almost didn’t,” Phantom replied. Cool lips pressed a kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Johnny heard it was your prom night, and he insisted on giving me a lecture about human safety measures pertaining to an ‘after party dance’ that I completely blanked on. I think he was just making things up to scare me. It does explain why so many parents volunteered as chaperons this time, though.”

Danny bit his lip and willed his cheeks not to flush. “Speaking of parents, Jazz convinced mine to leave the ghost hunting equipment at home.”

“Oh, good. Perhaps I should stay invisible for now, though.”

Although Danny nodded, he felt something like disappointment sink into his stomach. The hand he held in his own was bare, the touch of Phantom’s skin as always sending little sparks of contact to dance along his nerves. Phantom wasn’t wearing the gloves of his repurposed jumpsuit, which meant he had to be wearing something else. He might have gotten dressed up. He might have borrowed one of Danny’s suits or an outfit more in line with his ghost heritage, but Danny wouldn’t see, couldn’t see, until they left the dance.

Which sort of defeated the purpose.

“Where are Sam and Tucker?”

Danny searched the crowd of dancers until he saw the flash of Sam’s dress pass beneath the shifting-colored lights above the dance floor. He pointed at her as Tucker spun her out, the two of them laughing at the annoyed looks the others were giving them. They were moving too fast for a slow song. They were having fun when they were supposed to stare lovingly into their partner’s eyes.

“Over there,” Danny said. “Sam wanted to ‘liven things up.’ The romance crowd has had a death grip on the DJ all night, and Tucker is helping her protest.”

“Do you think their scheme will work before we have a chance to dance?” Phantom asked, sounding a little worried.

Danny glanced at Phantom, though again he saw nothing. “Do you know how to dance?”

Phantom’s hand squeezed Danny’s, and his voice took on a proud tone. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been practicing.”

“Human dances or ghost dances?”

Cold air gusted into Danny’s face like a reprimand, but the gym was so hot with so many human bodies gathered inside that Danny closed his eyes and welcomed the breeze. “Human,” Phantom said. But then he added in an undertone, “sort of.”

Danny opened his eyes again and gave Phantom an askance look. “Sort of?”

Phantom glided ahead of Danny and tugged gently on his hand. “I’ll show you.”

Danny resisted the pull and swept his eyes left then right. “Phantom, I’ll look like a total idiot dancing by myself, I can’t—” Cold energy rushed over Danny, and his hand disappeared from sight. He lifted his free hand to be sure it too was invisible. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Duh.”

Phantom chuckled. “Duh.”

He tugged on Danny’s hand again, and this time, Danny allowed Phantom to lead him forward. He located his parents for safety’s sake, but once he saw his mom dancing with his dad, her head resting on his chest, he returned his attention to where Phantom was leading him. Toward the dance floor, obviously, but how were they going to dance while invisible? People would be bumping into them from all directions. Even along the way, Phantom had to pause or weave around the partygoers crossing their path.

They reached the edge of the dance floor, and Danny still didn’t understand how they were going to pull it off, not until his invisible arm rose above his head, his feet lifted off the floor, and his tuxedo jacket floated off his back. Danny widened his eyes. Phantom tugged on his arm, pulling him higher and higher until they floated well above the dancers.

A moment later, Danny felt Phantom kiss his hand. “Ghosts float when they dance. Is it too much?”

The lights were brighter so close to the ceiling. The speakers—located beside the DJ’s table—were quieter and Danny could hear the nervous tension in Phantom’s voice. There was a part deep inside Danny that urged him to say yes. Turning invisible was one thing, allowing a ghost to dance with him in midair should have been another. It wasn’t so long ago he was as frightened of ghosts as the rest of the students, perhaps more so because of his parents’ experiments and lectures.

But things had changed, and the love and excitement stirring Danny’s heart into a wild rhythm were louder than the caution his parents had taught him.

“It’s perfect,” he said, trying to match his voice to his grin so Phantom would understand how happy he had just made him. “How long can you keep this up?”

Between the flight and the invisibility…

“Oh, perhaps two or three songs.” Phantom lifted Danny’s hand upward. Another cool hand pressed against Danny’s lower back and pulled him closer. It was a more traditional dance pose than Danny was used to, and he raised his eyebrows even as his stomach fluttered and swooped. “I should take a break afterward to keep from exhausting myself.”

Danny laughed, mostly due to nervous excitement. “Right! Yeah. Don’t want to fall on the others below.”

“That would be bad,” Phantom agreed. “Are you ready?”

Danny searched blindly for Phantom’s shoulder with his free hand, found his chest—it felt like Phantom wore a jacket, same as Danny—and slid his hand up until it could rest on Phantom’s shoulder. His other hand squeezed Phantom’s. “Ready.”

Phantom moved, rotating them slowly around a fixed point in a waltz. Danny moved his feet out of reflex, but it wasn’t like dancing on the floor at all. Phantom controlled the dance. He spun around Danny and pulled Danny along with him, unrestricted by gravity and the slow steps humans had to take. It felt graceful, effortless, like flying. Danny didn’t have to worry about knowing the steps to a waltz, he just had to enjoy the ride. He grinned out of reflex and relaxed into the dance, allowing Phantom to twirl and spin them around each other. The slow song ended and a faster, more upbeat song began. He laughed, and Phantom echoed him. Sam had won her protest.

Phantom spun Danny out and pulled him back in without Danny needing to do anything more than hold onto his hand, but without being able to see Phantom or Phantom him, Danny crashed into Phantom’s chest with a little grunt of surprise. 

“I suppose,” Phantom said, his own voice light with cheer, “we’re high enough no one will notice us if we’re only transparent?”

Given the frequent ghost attacks, Danny doubted they would go unnoticed for long, the humans were too well-trained by this point, but what was life without risks? He wanted to see Phantom, not just feel him.

So even though he knew it was a mistake (and Phantom probably did too), Danny nodded and said, “Yeah, that should work.”

The cold aura of Phantom’s powers still surrounded Danny, but a moment later, Phantom popped into sight. He was transparent, allowing Danny to see the lights and streamers through his head and chest, but there was enough definition there for him to make out his boyfriend’s pleased smile. Phantom’s white hair was messy—his hair was as resistant to being tamed as Danny’s, maybe worse due to the wind he regularly flew through—but he had dressed up in a tux. It wasn’t one Danny recognized, Phantom hadn’t stolen one from his closet, but then where had he gotten it?

It fit him surprisingly well…

Phantom’s smile widened, revealing sharper-than-normal teeth. “Let’s try this again.”

He swung Danny into motion. It was even easier for Danny to lose himself to the aerial dance than the first time. Danny could see Phantom’s expression, the softness in his eyes, the happy smile matching his own. They spun and twirled around each other, sometimes losing sight of one another, but always held together by their clasped hands. Danny laughed freely, unafraid of being heard over the loud, cheerful song.

So high above the other dancers, Danny saw only Phantom and the streamers hanging from the lights. They could have been dancing alone up there, surrounded by music and bright, shifting lights.

“When we can finally dance on the ground together,” Danny said, beaming as Phantom spun them around without any effort on Danny’s part, “I’m going to lead.”

Phantom laughed. “Only fair,” he agreed.

The song ended soon after. Another slow song took its place, and Danny swore he heard Sam cry out “Oh, come on!” but he didn’t mind. Before Phantom could settle them into position for another waltz—seriously, where had he learned to dance? From Dora?—Danny grabbed ahold of Phantom’s shoulder, let go of his hand, and set his other hand on his opposite shoulder. Phantom looked startled.

“You just place your hands on my waist,” Danny explained. “Then we sway to the music.”

Phantom followed his instructions, though his head tilted in confusion. “That simple?”

Danny smiled, feeling soft and warm inside. “Yeah. Most of us don’t know how to do those, uh, traditional dances. We just want to hold each other and let the music set the mood.”

And this song in particular suited Phantom. It was about finding your hero in someone unexpected; an old song, but Danny’s heart swelled as he and Phantom stared at each other. Phantom floated them in a gentle sway, no longer trying to match the beat. He looked as content as Danny felt, but soon his cheeks flushed green, and he looked down at the crowd.

“This song suits you,” he told Danny. “It’s like you’re singing to me.”

Danny widened his smile. He slipped his arm around Phantom’s neck, pulled him closer, and laid his head on his shoulder, his other hand sliding down to rest over his core. Sometimes he thought he could sense emotions from it, though at the moment he only felt it vibrating beneath his hand. Phantom encircled his arms around Danny’s waist and gently rested his cheek on Danny’s head. He continued to rock gently to the music, but it was even slower than before, as though Phantom wasn’t really thinking about the dance anymore.

Inevitably, it had to end.

“Oh my gosh!” someone shouted over the slow song. “Is that—that’s Phantom! Phantom is dancing with someone up there, look!”

Phantom swore and Danny tensed. Before Danny could lift his head from Phantom’s shoulder, Phantom lifted one hand and cupped the back of Danny’s head, pushing Danny’s face against his neck, hiding him.

“Ghost kid!” Jack shouted, sounding both excited and frustrated. After all, Jazz had convinced him and Maddie to leave all their ghost hunting equipment at home for just this reason.

Others began shouting too, disturbing the song to the point the DJ simply stopped playing it. Danny groaned.

“I doubt they will calm down even if I turn us invisible again,” Phantom whispered in Danny’s ear.

“Probably not,” Danny reluctantly agreed.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“The park? I flew past on my way here. Fireflies were lighting up the walkways, but there weren’t very many people around.”

Danny’s breath caught. Leave the dance? Take a romantic walk through the park, just the two of them? That actually sounded so much better than attending prom, though he wouldn’t say no to dancing with Phantom again. “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “Yeah, let’s do that. We can walk toward a restaurant. I can buy you dinner, make this a proper date.”

Phantom laughed and then kissed Danny’s ear. “Sounds wonderful.”

[newmoonyue]

Prompt #34- Zuko ~ Smut

34. "You might not like me, but you definitely want me."

(Please take in mind that you must be 18+ to read this, and the character(s) mentioned are all 18+ as well. ATLA/TLOK characters mentioned are all aged up.)

Pairing: Zuko X Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Zuko's P.O.V

It was as if the day couldn't get any hotter. Training in the scorching heat was miserable, especially when you're forced to dodge fire, and your life most certainly depends on it. Sure the suns heat fuels firebenders but, I hated it.

"Again!" My uncle yelled, Fire nation soldiers began shooting daggers, and lashing burning lines of  fire towards me. I dodged each obstacle until I had successfully downed each soldier.

"Good job Fire Lord Zuko. I'm very proud of you." My uncle Iroh said, sipping his tea.

"Thank you Uncle." I grabbed my water and took a swig. The sun was at it's highest, reflecting off of the cement below. These days were my least favorite. I hated the meetings, and I hated all the attention but training was the worst. I spent my teenage years training, I didn't understand why I must train well into my 20s.

"Ahh y/n!" I heard my uncle cheer. I turned to see the first female general y/n walking over. We've never seen eye to eye. Because she was the first female to enter into the highest ranks must have gotten into her head, as she continued to undermine me.

I glanced over to where she was chatting with my uncle. She bowed to my Uncle and walked over to a few of the soldiers and greeted them. She began sparring with them, gracefully dancing over the fire shot at her. Once she too downed the soldiers everyone clapped for her. She bowed smiling cockily. She noticed me watching her and quirked an eyebrow. She walked over and stood next to me.

"Hello Zuko." I scoffed.

"Fire Lord." I corrected. Y/n smirked.

"Mmhmm." I rolled my eyes turning away from her. It must have been the heat, or the fact I was exhausted but she was getting on my nerves a little more than usual. Sure she's gorgeous, and everyone wanted her, but I wasn't a fan of the fact she doesn't listen  

"Aww is someone cranky?" Y/n snickered. I shrugged her off walking towards the training dojo. I needed out of this sun. I motioned for a few of the guards to follow. Surprisingly Y/n followed too.

"Wow, Zuko is really in a bad mood." She laughed. When none of the guards snickered she glared at all of them. They immediately stiffened. One of them laughed, very obviously nervous.

"You all may go." I waved the guards off. Y/n stuck around like the humidity in the air. I huffed turning towards her.

"What do you want? Can't you tell I want to be left alone?" She smirked.

"Well, I can tell that but you know me." She walked closer. "I don't listen." She shot a fire dagger in my direction. Shocked I dodged it, whipping a plume of fire in her direction. She circled her hands, catching the attack and shooting it away. She charged me, aiming for my chest. I blocked holding her hands. She was very mighty, but her only downfall was the fact I was taller.

"Let me go!" She wormed out of my grip, shoving me down onto the mat. I landed on my back.

"What is your issue?" I sat up and glared at her through the lose strands of hair clinging to the moisture on my face. From this angle I could see every curve of her body, the tank top and pants she wore clinging to her body perfectly. Snap out of it you idiot! She must have caught me looking and smirked as if reading my mind

"Aw the poor little Fire Lord has been knocked down. How tragic." She shifted her weight and placed her hands on her hips.

"You know I don't like you, or enjoy your company, so why are you still here? All your doing is getting on my nerves!" She seemed taken aback for a moment before regaining her composure.

"You might not like me, but you definitely want me." My eyes widened in astonishment.

"W-want?" Her usual smirk felt different, the look in her eyes changing as well.

"Oh Zuko, you silly man." Y/n got down on her hands and knees crawling on top of me. I wanted to push her off, I wanted to stand and run out of here but it was like we we're magnets.

"Say it. You. Want. Me." She said inching her lips closer and closer to mine.

"I-" She cut me off closing the space between us, capturing my lips with her own. Her lips were as soft as they looked. She pulled away.

"Sorry, you took too long." I looked up into her eyes. They were full of want and desire. Pure lust. My hands gravitated towards her hips. I gripped them firmly causing  Y/n to squeal in delight.

"Well, even if I did 'want you' like you say, what do you want me to do about it?" I questioned.  Y/n grinded down in response. I could feel the moisture from her core soaking her pants.

"What do you think?" She chided. I grasped her hips tighter, flipping us over so I was on top. She moaned, her face a shade of red matching her clothes. I leaned in and kissed her roughly,  Y/n tangling her hands in my hair. I bit her lip playfully. I groaned as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper into her embrace. She placed her hands gently on my face deepening the kiss. She licked my bottom lip, teasing me. I moved one of the hands that was placed beside her head to the hem of her top.

"May I?" Sure we were in the heat of the moment, but I wanted to be sure she actually wanted this and wasn't going to push me off at any moment and spit in my face.

"Take it off," She whimpered breathlessly. I've never seen her this way, and I liked it. I pulled it off quickly. Her chest still covered by the sports bra. I found the hooks and soon they were undone, her perfect breasts exposed. The room was beginning to heat up, the both of us extremely ready for what was to come. I captured one of her nipples in between two fingers, teasing her gently. A quiet moan escaped her lips in response.

"Oh Zuko." The sound of her moaning my name enchanted me. I decided to switch things up and slowly circled the other nipple with my tongue. Y/n squirmed below me.

"Fuck." I grunted. She moved her hands to her pants, starting to tug them down. I made quick work of taking them off and tossing them to the side.  Y/n's face blushed a deeper shade than before.

"You're beautiful." I said admiring her soft breasts, and the endless curves of her body. I pulled my shirt over my head and began tugging my pants off. My heart was beating out of my chest. I didn't know how badly I wanted this, that is until it was happening at this moment. Suddenly I was hyperaware of everything around me, our naked bodies, the heat of the room, and the fact someone could walk in at any moment and for whatever reason, that made things even hotter. I leaned back down fluttering kisses down y/n's neck and chest.

"Please," She whimpered again. I smirked against her skin, beginning to leave little love bites on her chest. "Just take me." I moved my mouth next to her ear, breathing the warm air making her shiver.

"Only if you say please." I growled. Y/n shivered again.

"Please. Please take me, I'm yours." I captured her lips in a kiss again, this time aligning myself up with her entrance.

"Damn y/n you're so wet. All of this for me?" I smirked. She groaned, ignoring my teasing. Slowly I began pushing my member in. Her quiet moans slowly began to get louder the longer I was inside. She arched her back as I began to rock my hips, slowly gliding in and out of her.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed quickening the pace. Her sex felt like velvet enveloping my dick. Y/n's legs wrapped around my lower back once again, allowing me to reach deeper.

"Please, don't stop." She mewled, eyes rolling into the back of her head in pleasure. I grunted as I pounded quicker and quicker, tension building in my ab. Y/n looked me directly in the eyes, my breath getting hitched in my throat. Slowly, I felt the surge of pressure.

"I'm gonna come." She smirked flipping us over once again. I was extremely surprised as she grinded down on my dick, taking complete control. Y/n's hands grasped my chest, her pussy gliding up and down my length.

"Damnit." I grunted releasing inside her. I watched as y/n smirked.  

"Well, so much for you not wanting me." Y/n snickered, leaning up to kiss me.

"Who said I didn't want you?"

This drabble was requested by the lovely Nereida (@neri26boo)! I hope you enjoyed, it's been awhile since I've written smut! <3

Thank you for reading!

~Grace

[nik-the-bik]

Henriel Week Day 4: Fireside

“Perhaps It’s the Wine”

Summary: Jekyll is super attracted to Gabriel and Gabriel is oblivious

CW: Alcohol, sex mention, and enough sexual tension to take out a priest, but nothing that veers too NSFW.

Gotta thank @corvidayyy for the awesome prompt because I'm surprisingly proud of this one?

****

It was a bitterly windy evening in January, but the guests at Dr. Jekyll’s home were none the wiser. That night he hosted an extravagant dinner for many of his friends and colleagues, sparing no expense for the endless array of hors d’oeuvres, hearty meats, and assortment of rare wines and spirits. Most everyone left the dinner party warmed with a good meal and head fuzzy from drink. As the evening crawled on into the deepest hours of the night, all that remained in Dr. Jekyll’s parlor were himself and his two oldest friends, Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Utterson.

The three sat around a roaring fire reminiscing about their boyhood follies, having animated discussions as they corrected each other’s memories and laughed at long forgotten stories. Some of the last of the wine was passing from hand to hand as they all sank comfortably into its stupor.

Henry opened the final bottle he had bought for the occasion and poured himself and Utterson another glass as Lanyon finally rose from his chair and stretched.

“What’s the matter, Hastie? We’ve got just a bit more wine left! Surely you can stay for one more drink?” Henry asked.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I’ve had more than my fair share,” said Lanyon, straightening his appearance as he prepared to bid his goodbyes. “I feel that any more would be too dangerous—I’m not as avid a drinker as I used to be, and I’ll lose my head entirely.”

“Suit yourself,” Henry chuckled. He and Gabriel Utterson shook his hand goodnight as Lanyon made his way out the door, but not without a few more jabs at his friends. The three were left with laughter ringing in their ears as he left them, Henry and Gabriel relaxing into the plush armchairs closest to the warm fireplace.

The two sat in silence for some time, feeling quite at ease with each other. The situation was not new to either of them—many a dinner party had ended with these two being left alone at the end of the night, softly whispering philosophy with each other or simply dwelling on memories while nursing one last drink before turning in for the night. These quiet, intimate moments were perhaps the ones that Henry Jekyll looked forward to most out of these evenings. Jekyll put down his empty glass and turned himself to face his best friend.

Gabriel Utterson looked beautifully relaxed. He had sunken into his own armchair, one arm around the back while the other lazily twirled the little remaining wine in his glass. He had one leg up on the ottoman, and a rare, small smile of sheer contentment rested on his face, as his eyes hungrily watched the roaring fire before them, cheeks rosy from the wine. Jekyll was captivated – warmed both by the glow of the fire and the soft glow of hedonistic bliss radiating from this man before him, a man who had always lingered in the back of his mind as the example of moral perfection. Yes, Gabriel Utterson was beautiful, and finding him in this tiny moment of domestic pleasure, Jekyll felt that old secret yearning ignite within him once more.

His attraction to Utterson was not something Jekyll let himself dwell on frequently, but on instances where the pangs of desire struck, they often were crippling in their intensity. Tonight was no exception.

Henry suddenly regretted that he never learned to be a painter, wishing that he had the talent needed to capture Gabriel Utterson in this moment. When he felt brave enough to confess as much out loud, Utterson let out a soft chuckle, and his eyes twinkled as his smile became broader across his face.

“Whatever would you want to paint ME for?” he asked, turning his attention away from the fire for the first time, and looking directly into Jekyll’s eyes. Jekyll’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments before his insides turned to butter under Gabriel’s warm, affectionate gaze.

“Well,” Henry started, averting his own eyes as he felt the heat rise to his face. “I guess it’s because you look so…effortlessly happy. It certainly suits you.”

Gabriel laughed again, a cozy, inviting laugh. “Perhaps it’s all of the wine.”

Henry Jekyll couldn’t help but grin himself and bring his eyes back to Utterson’s. He reached for the wine bottle that they had started just before Lanyon had left them and decided to refill his glass. “It certainly is good wine,” he said, scooting his chair a bit closer to Utterson’s in order to top off his glass as well.

“It is good wine,” Utterson reaffirmed, clinking their glasses together and giving him a jovial wink. Henry Jekyll nearly choked on his own drink—why was everything that Gabriel did suddenly so captivating, so…seductive? He was grateful that Utterson had turned his attention back to the fire as he dried his lips with a handkerchief, heart beating loudly in his ears. He had been secretly attracted by Utterson plenty of times before, but somehow tonight, somehow this was more than Henry Jekyll was able to take, and perhaps most maddening of all was how the seduction seemed entirely unintentional on Gabriel’s part.

Yes, this entire evening had been near perfect. Great food, plenty of alcohol, engaging conversation—the pièce de resistance for the night would be great sex, and the primal part of Henry Jekyll was suddenly roaring for it.

Another sip of wine as he stared into the open flame of the fireplace, and suddenly his heart was braced and tongue was loosened just enough to do something a bit foolish.

“You should stay the night, Gabriel.”

“Mmm?” Gabriel lazily hummed, turning his attention back to Henry. God was he gorgeous.

“It’s so late, and the weather tonight…I would prefer to know you were here, safe.”

“Thank you, Harry, but I couldn’t possibly intrude for much longer,” Gabriel said, suddenly shifting in his seat.

Jekyll leaned forward, putting a hand on Gabriel’s knee to stop him. “But I insist! It’s no intrusion, none at all, not when I have so many empty beds—”

“I still have my carriage waiting…”

“Send them home for tonight, and tomorrow you can take mine.”

Gabriel was quiet, only just now noticing that Henry’s hand was still resting on his knee.

“Henry, it would be lovely, but I really shouldn’t stay much later, not when I have so much work waiting for me tomorrow,” he said, turning his face back to the fire.

Jekyll brought the last of his glass of wine to his lips and downed it in one swallow, setting the glass aside and leaning still closer to his companion.

“I am requesting the honor of being hospitable to my dearest friend,” Henry said, voice lilting. He decided to give him the most sultry stare that he could muster. “I do so enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Gabriel turned his bright, beaming face back to Henry’s, a sweet, naïve giggle escaping him. “I have really enjoyed our visit too.”

Beautiful, innocent, oblivious Gabriel! He had no idea what Henry was getting at!

This wouldn’t do, this wouldn’t do at all. The primal monster inside Henry was hungry, demanding he be sated. He bit down on his lower lip as he pictured himself losing control and yanking Gabriel’s face forward into a deep, passionate kiss, arms encircling his waist, Gabriel’s fingers trailing along his spine... But no, as tempting as the fantasy was, that couldn’t happen either. Not yet.

“It would certainly break my heart to have to spend tonight alone,” Henry said, slowly moving the hand from Gabriel’s knee upwards, rubbing up and down his thigh. “If you were here, well, I could imagine we could make it worth both of our trouble…” he trailed off, delighting in the feeling of Gabriel’s warm, firm thigh in his hand, unconsciously tightening his grip, tongue just starting to touch his lip as he continued rubbing, letting his hand wander ever closer to--

Gabriel’s hand snatched Henry’s away. Henry looked up at Gabriel, who was blushing furiously.

Oh. Gabriel finally understood.

Oh God, he finally understood that Henry--!!

“We shouldn’t,” was all he said.

Henry Jekyll’s heart was racing faster than it ever had before, his face hot with shame, or was it just the fire? Why had he allowed himself to indulge in this secret want of his?

But the foolish, drunken part of Henry’s brain began to chime in. He said WE shouldn’t! Emphasis on the WE!

He didn’t seem offended or angry or ashamed, did he? Just…flustered? Could that possibly mean…?

Jekyll realized that Utterson was still holding his hand. Casting off any sense of caution, he drew Gabriel’s hand towards him, clasped in both of his, desperate to salvage the moment.

“Forgive me, Gabriel, I sometimes forget myself and…”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel said, unable to meet his eyes. His breathing seemed a bit more shallow than usual.

“I'm so sorry if I was inappropriate--I want you to know,” Henry continued, drawing Gabriel’s hand towards his own heart. “That you mean the world to me, and that I would hate to completely jeopardize—”

“It’s alright,” Gabriel insisted again. “You don’t need to apologize. You haven’t done anything.”

“I’m a weak man,” Henry said. “A slave to my most base, sensual urges, many of which, I must humbly confess, center around you.” With that, Henry drew Gabriel’s hand towards his lips, kissing it tenderly. When Gabriel didn’t pull away, Henry continued to plant kisses all over his hand, losing all sense of hesitation as he began to dip into the frenzy of his own desire.

Gabriel finally retracted his hand from Henry’s greedy lips, his whole face red. “Perhaps it’s just the wine making you feel this way,” Gabriel said, pulling his own chair a little further away from Jekyll. “I know I can definitely feel it enacting a certain…influence…”

Henry straightened himself up, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain his composure after his brief slip into blind ecstasy. “Perhaps it is the wine,” he confessed. He grabbed the bottle, nearly empty now, and decided to pour one small, final glass for himself.

“It’s very, very good wine,” Gabriel said, offering his glass for the remainder. He had his hand half covering his face, still brilliantly pink, eyes sparkling slightly as they peered at him between his fingers.

Henry smiled as he raised a silent toast to his companion, a thrill in his heart as it foolishly began to harbor the belief that maybe, just maybe, this overwhelming desire wasn’t entirely his alone.

[2handsslan]

I found myself while loving you

Summary: Draco Malfoy, Slytherin King, one of the meanest boys at Hogwarts finds he might not be who thinks he is after all 

Pairing: Draco X Hufflepuff reader

Word Count: 2153

A/N: Helllooo loves!! So this is my first time EVER writing a fic so please go easy on me. Im so nervous to post this, but I want to start writing and I have to start somewhere! and see if I’m even good at it!! Honestly I don’t know if any of my followers read HP fandom fics but if you do please check this out, tell me what you think! AHHH anyways I hope you like it

Growing up we typically believe our parents can do no wrong. We hold them above everything and everyone. We learn to turn a blind eye to the wrong they sometimes do, even go as far as justifying it. 

This is exactly what Draco did when it came to his father. Mr. Malfoy could do no wrong in the eyes of his little boy, even though all he did was wrong. 

The only thing Draco wanted to do in life was to make his father proud, to be the spitting image of the man. He spoke like him, walked like him, held his head as high as he did. This didn't go unnoticed by his father, but this was not a “proud dad moment” type of situation. Lucious Malfoy took this as an opportunity to shape Draco into everything he wanted him to be, for his own personal gain.  

Draco being in one of the most infamous death eater families meant a dark light was shed on him. Welcoming this with open arms Draco became the meanest student at Hogwarts, from the very moment he stepped onto the train the first day of first year. 

Going into his fifth year, nothing has changed. 

-

Draco sat with his gang of Slytherins in the Great Hall, back pressed to the table, his long legs crossed at the ankles stretched out in front of him, waiting for the newest first years to enter and get sorted into their houses. He threw his head back in laughter at a joke Blaise made. As his head was falling back into place, the smile on his face disappeared and his eyes widening. ‘That couldn't possibly be Y/N Y/L/N… absolutely couldn't be.’ He thought to himself as you walked into the room. You had not looked as you did last year. You had not been ugly by any means, just you, nothing special. You matured quite a lot over the short summer break, turning into a very beautiful young woman. 

And he had definitely noticed. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of you. In his shock, he leaned over and roughly shook Blaise by his shoulder, “Is that Y/N?” 

“What? Merlin it is, she sure did change this summer.” Blaise said adding a whistle. 

You were the true definition of a Hufflepuff, hard-working, patient, loyal, and one of the sweetest girls you would ever meet. Your Y/E/C eyes constantly shine with happiness, sending sweet smiles to everyone who walked by, no matter the scowls or disgusted looks they gave. 

You made your way past the Slytherin table, eyes falling on Draco and sending him a small grin, tucking your hair behind your ear in nervousness. He had never looked at you like that before. Only taking notice of you when he was giving you an odd scowl as you walked past him and his friends in the hallway during previous years with a smile permanently etched on your face. You on the other hand had always taken notice of the Slytherin King. It was quite an odd thing, the sweetest Hufflepuff finding herself swooning over the meanest boy in their year. But you couldn't help it, you were simply intrigued by him. Wondering what made him the way he was. Wondering what had to have happened to make him so cold to others.  And also wondering what kind of things made him smile, and how you wished you could do those things, wished you could make him smile. You sort of felt like a creep, due to the fact that you had never even really spoken to each other outside of being partnered with each other for a Transfiguration project last year. But you couldn't help the butterflies you felt whenever you saw him.

Something inside Draco changed that very moment. For the past two years he had noticed you, not a lot, but just enough to wonder about you from time to time. It was like he was seeing you for the very first time and he needed to know you, to know everything about you. 

Throughout the entire sorting ceremony he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, where he was seated he had a perfect view of your side profile. He took notice in the way your eyelashes curled up, the soft freckles that dusted over our nose and cheeks, the way your head was slightly tilted as you watched the students with interest as they were sorted. 

Simply breathtaking he thought. 

As the first few weeks passed, things did not change. Draco spent every chance he got looking at you, trying to come up with an excuse to speak with you. Once again you had Transfigurations together. “Today you will be working in pairs to vanish a group of mice.” instructed Professor Mcgonnagal, “You may choose who you partner up with, begin.” 

Before he even realized what he was doing Draco had jumped up from his chair and was standing over your desk saying “Would you like to be my partner?” 

He was sure he shared the same shocked expression on your face. Cheeks turning a light pink you agreed. 

Neither of you spoke much during the class, stealing quick glances at one another more than words. After successfully vanishing all of your mice in record time, you turned to him, “Well I can see you have very much improved since last year” a small teasing smirk playing on your lips. 

“I'd like to think so,” he said shyly. This had to have been a mistake you thought, Draco Malfoy shy? Around you? No way, not possible. 

As the thoughts were running through your head you heard him speak again, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? It's the first trip of the year.” 

It seemed you forgot how to speak, your mouth opened and then closed, your mind suddenly completely blank. 

“Nevermind, that was stupid, why would someone like you want to..” 

“I'd love to go with you” you practically yelled as you realized he was spiraling, probably thinking you would want to do anything but spend time with him. 

And then there it was, the smile that you rarely got to see, and you felt like your heart could burst. The bell rang and he stood up, “I'll meet you in front of the Great Hall after breakfast Saturday then,” he said, a smile still in full view. All you could do was nood, an expression of utter disbelief on your face. 

The rest of the week flew by and next thing you knew you were walking out of the doors of Hogwarts with Draco by your side. The two of you spent the day walking around the shops, and stopping for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. As much as you didn’t want to, you had always thought he had to be just as everyone said he was, mean. But you were completely wrong. As you got to know him more and more during your short time, you had a feeling there was a lot more to the boy. 

-

As the months past your time spent with Draco increased. Meeting in the corridors before and after classes, sneaking you to the Slytherin table during meals, and sneaking you into his dorm for late night cuddles every so often.

This was completely out of character for you by others standards but with him you had never felt more yourself. 

And Draco was feeling the exact same way. Slowly but surely his bad guy persona was fading, and people were starting to take notice. Word was getting around that he was becoming a different person. But he did not care anymore. 

“He has to be faking it, he has always been the nastiest boy to walk these halls.” 

“If his family could see him now they would not even recognize him..”

There was no way for him to not hear these things being said about him as he walked from class to class with you on his arm. And one day it finally hit him. They were right, he was not the same boy he had been the previous years, and he had you to thank for that. He realized now that this was him, this is how he was meant to be. 

He had spent his whole life before this trying to live up to his fathers attitude and beliefs that he had become something he wasn't. But he was done, he was done trying to please him, constantly miserable from never seeming to be able to. He was himself now.

-

Word about the way Draco changed so drastically had finally gotten to his father. And it could not have happened at a worse time. This Hogsmead trip he had asked his mother and father to meet him, wanting to introduce you to them. Surprisingly he was not at all nervous, just excited to finally have you meet his family, thinking they would love you just like everyone else did. 

The two of you sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop waiting for them to arrive. The door opened and Draco shot straight up, straightening his shirt and hair as his parents walked in. “Father, Mother, it's good to see you. You both look well.” he said. “As do you,” his father said simply. His mother sent him a small smile, from her position behind her husband. Sitting down Mr. Malfoy wasted no time speaking of the rumors he had been hearing about his son. “It has come to my attention that you have changed Draco, and not in a way I would categorize as acceptable.” “You've lost your mind if you think I am going to let you lose yourself,” he sent you a nasty side eyed look, “because of a silly girl.”

You felt Draco tense beside you and instinctively interlaced your fingers with his to try to calm him down. This did not faze you , you know the reputation his father had and did not fool yourself with the thought of him being overjoyed at his son's new attitude. 

Draco spoke as calmly as he could “The way I have been acting is certainly because of Y/N, in the sense that she has made me realize I do not want to be like my miserable father anymore.” He no longer cared if this was supposed to be a happy meeting, introducing his girl to his parents, no this was it, this was where he was going to break free of the hold his father had on him. This was where he was getting the stain of his family's name off of him. 

This seemed to shake his father to the core, realization hit him that he did not have control over his boy anymore, and he was now his own person. His mothers head was tilted down but Y/N could see the small smile on her face. She knew what Dracocould be, and she was proud he was becoming his own person. 

Without saying another word his father got up and stormed out of the shop, his mother throwing him a proud smile as she ran after his father. 

“Draco I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” You said sadly. 

Without saying anything he stood you up and pulled you into a kiss, breaking away to say “Let's get out of here,” with a smile on his face. 

You sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room late that night wrapped up in Draco’s arms. He was still reeling from the day's events, he had never felt more happy with himself. “I can't remember the last time I felt this good...” he spoke so softly you almost didn't hear him. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I've spent as long as I can remember tied up in the idea that I needed to be just like my father to make him love me, but I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be who I am with you all the time, with everyone. It's much easier than being miserable all the time.” 

 You took his face in hands, your thumbs stroking his jawline, “I always knew there was more under that hard exterior, I'm happy I was able to help you let it out.” 

He dropped his forehead against yours, breathing deep, his lips landed on yours in the sweetest but most passionate kiss you had shared. It took your breath away and you were slightly panting as you broke apart. 

“The only love I ever wanted was from my father. But now, the only love I want is yours. An… and i love you more than i can tell you.” 

“And I love you just as much.”

[ao3theskyisblue]

In the light of twilight

Summary:

"How long are you planning on sitting miles away from me?"

"I'm only a few feet away from you. Miles may be overstating it, babe."

A 2x08 coda because I still haven’t recovered from last night

Read on ao3

“How long are you planning on sitting miles away from me?”

Carlos had stood up to hug Gwyn and Owen just before they reluctantly left to catch her flight back to New York, exchanging words of reassurance and a promise to get together again soon. He stood back to watch as Gwyn leaned down to kiss TK’s temple softly, Owen giving his son’s hand a squeeze.

“Take care of him.” Carlos couldn’t help straightening his back at those words, nodding at Owen in response.

“Of course, sir.”

He caught a fond eye-roll at that, and even Gwyn seemed to be holding back an amused grin, but the two had left the room soon after that. Which left him to head back to his spot on the uncomfortable hospital chairs, hands clasped before him as his mind raced again with the endless possibilities that could have happened tonight. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, thoughts a blurred haze, until TK had broken the silence.

Looking up, Carlos felt his breath catch at the tender warmth in TK’s gaze as he looked at him, quiet understanding lighting up his features.

“I’m only a few feet away from you. Miles may be overstating it, babe.” Carlos resorted to a tactic he thought he had under his belt, using humour to deflect. He could tell TK wasn’t fooled in the slightest, judging by the short huff of breath at that, before he was lifting a tired hand towards him.

“Still too far.” TK was definitely pouting now, but Carlos still caught the minuscule wince at the action, the movement definitely reminding the man of his injuries that would take a while to heal.

In all honestly, he didn’t know why he was hesitant to get any closer.

Back when they had finally found them, when he saw TK staggering against a table with a bloody bandage on his head, his feet had moved on autopilot, bringing him straight to his boyfriend’s side in a matter of seconds. There was an overwhelming urge, a need, to know that he was okay, that he wasn’t too late.

That trusting his gut had been right.

The overwhelming emotions that had his eyes clouding with unshed tears as he held TK in his arms then were unparalleled, and he knew that there was no place he would have rather been than right there. Everything after that had been a blur - his father arriving at the scene, their tentative conversation, a residual reminder of a family lunch date he had yet to inform TK about.

He had been so close to losing a part of himself today. Looking at TK who was still watching him patiently from the hospital bed, he felt as if the universe might tell him that this was all an illusion, that he had failed to protect the one thing he’s always vowed to protect, that everything he had worked for would disappear right before his very eyes.

“Carlos.”

Biting the inside of his cheek to stop the onslaught of emotions that hit him all at once at the sound of his own name, Carlos got up slowly and took a stumbling step towards the hand that had not stopped reaching for him.

“I’m here, and I’m okay.” TK whispered, and Carlos closed the distance between them, latching onto the offered hand like a lifeline, leaning down to pull TK into a tight hug, though still mindful of his injuries. Pressing a gentle kiss to TK’s hairline, right above the bulge of bandages, he closed his eyes and didn’t fight the tears that slowly slipped down his cheeks.  

“How are you feeling?” TK murmured, and Carlos laughed wetly as he pulled back slightly to wipe away the wet stains on his face. Gentle hands replaced his own, and Carlos gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, lifting a hand to cover TK’s that were still delicately wiping his tears away.

“How am I feeling? You were the one that had a rough day.” Carlos shook his head, and TK immediately made a noise of protest.

“You haven’t had the greatest day either. How – are you still suspended?” TK asked tentatively, eyes searching his, and Carlos smiled.

“Still pending investigation. But I think that after these recent events, I’ll be back to work in a few days.” Carlos felt his heart stutter in his chest at TK’s brilliant smile at that, his eyes shining proudly.

“I’m so proud of you.” TK murmured, and Carlos leaned into the hand still cupping his face, turning to kiss the palm of it. Sighing lightly, Carlos reached for the hand TK had dropped down on the hospital bed, the warmth emanating through him soothingly as the latter immediately intertwined their fingers.

“I was so close to playing it by the book.” Carlos admitted quietly, dropping his gaze to the dull blue hospital linens, having a sudden urge to pick at them but TK only tightened his grip on his hand. “It hit a nerve, I guess, when my father told me my instincts may have been wrong. I kept on thinking if I didn’t let that man go today, if things would have gone differently.”

He didn’t look up, and he knew that TK would wait until he was ready. His boyfriend was surprisingly patient in times like these, and it was a source of comfort Carlos could always trust in.

“If you had arrested him, you would have – “ TK’s voice cracked at the end, but swallowed it down and continued, “you would have died. You, your partner, and whoever was nearby. You would have all died.”

Carlos hadn’t visited that part of what could have happened thoroughly yet. Certainly, he wouldn’t be here if he had played by the book earlier today, and who knows what would have happened after. The bank robbers would still be free, they would have just hired someone else to do the job, and the world would have moved forward.

Without him in it.

It was definitely something that he should probably talk about, and he will.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that now. But then? All I knew was that I could have made a terrible mistake just from trusting my instincts, and I – I started to doubt myself.” Carlos admitted quietly and TK must hear the resignation in his tone.

“Carlos…”

“But I didn’t.” Carlos continued, looking up now, and he didn’t know what his eyes were portraying but it had TK’s widen slightly. “I didn’t play by the book. I chose to follow my gut and I’m – I don’t regret it. I would do it a thousand times over. Your father was right, our guts are what we take out there in the field, and I should trust it.” Carlos could see TK starting to smile, and it was impossible not to smile back.

“He also said we should have a heart behind our shield.”

TK’s smile widened, and his eyes were filling with emotion the longer they stared at each other. Carlos tilted his head slightly when TK pressed a hand to his heart, patting the spot gently.

“And you have a damn good one.” TK whispered fondly. Carlos let out a wet chuckle, taking the hand that was pressed to his heart to kiss his knuckles. He let his lips rest there, a physical reminder of what he could have lost today creeping in on him, before leaning his forehead against the warm hand, smiling helplessly.

“What?” TK tilted his head adoringly, and Carlos looked up to meet his gaze.

“I just really love you.”

He falls in love all over again at the elated smile that lights up TK’s face every time he says that, endeared by the shy edges to it as if he could never grow tired of hearing it.

“I love you too.”

Carlos took that moment to scoot just a little closer, lifting an arm to wrap around TK’s mid-section to lean in further. He was completely content in just staying like this until the doctors approved of TK’s discharge, but they hadn’t been staring at each other very long when TK’s brows furrowed slightly. Carlos was immediately on alert.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I missed dinner.” TK lamented, looking like he was almost a little frustrated at himself and Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“You were kidnapped, pistol-whipped, and almost shot. I think that gives you a free pass, babe.” Carlos teased, chuckling quietly as TK groaned, shooting him an amused glare.

“You do know that your glares don’t work on me? I’ve since built an immunity to them, and all they do is make you look more adorable than you already are.” Carlos smirked, not even dodging the light hit TK landed on his shoulder.

“Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know what I look like. My head’s practically a bloated marshmallow.” TK said pointedly, but Carlos wasn’t deterred.

“So, soft and cute?”

TK shot him an unimpressed glare, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes but remembered how much his head wound had protested at that the last time he tried and held back.

“Only you can find me cute lying in a hospital bed like this.”

“You’re always cute, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.” Carlos reminded, eyebrows lifting as if challenging him to continue and TK merely shook his head slightly, an exasperated smile on his lips.

“You really need to stop being so sappy right in front of my concussion.”

“Never.”

Leaning in, Carlos pressed a light kiss to TK’s lips, grinning when he tried to chase him as he pulled back, the lips he had just been kissing already forming a light pout.

“I go missing for hours and you won’t even give me kisses?” Carlos snorted at that, narrowing his eyes at the playful glint in TK’s gaze.

“Playing the kidnapping card? Really Strand?”

“Gotta keep you entertained somehow in spite of everything.”

Carlos smiled, leaning down to gently kiss the corner of TK’s lips, much to his weak protest.

“Not in spite of.”

TK frowned, a questioning look in his eyes as Carlos reached up to delicately run his fingers through TK’s hair. Looking into the green eyes that caught him heart and soul ever since their first meeting in the rain, Carlos felt his body fill with warmth.  

“I’m here, and I love you because.”

~.~

“You didn’t eat the pasta.”

Carlos locked the front door and turned to see that TK was staring at the dinner layout spread before him. He vaguely remembered being in such a frenzied rush to the Strand house that all he remembered was to blow out the candles, leaving everything else exactly where they were before he had sped out the door.

“You didn’t come home. I would never have started without you.” Carlos frowned. The very thought of eating without TK felt wrong in every aspect, and toed off his shoes, placing them neatly beside TK’s by the entranceway before padding over.

The pasta had gone cold, the sauce looking a little hardened against the spaghetti noodles. The salad was looking a little dry as the dressing no doubt seeped into the vegetable leaves and sinking to the bottom of the bowl.

“Well, let’s eat it now!”

At TK’s sudden exclamation, Carlos blinked rapidly, looking down at the slightly worse-for-wear food laid out before them to TK and back again.

“Now?” Carlos knew he sounded incredulous, which was only further emphasized by TK’s affirmative nod. “Ty, it’s – “ Briefly glancing at the clock, he continued, “four am in the morning.”

“And?”

Carlos couldn’t help a surprised laugh, his boyfriend’s eagerness to eat the food he had spent a better part of his day cooking slowly rubbing off on him. TK was already padding forward slowly towards the setup, no doubt wanting to heat it up, but Carlos laid a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him towards the couch instead.

“I’m pretty sure your mom already fed you a year’s worth of Matzo ball soup. How are you still hungry?” Carlos mused, his lips twitching in amusement when TK groaned when he realized he was not-so-subtly arranged on the couch comfortably.

“I know for a fact that you haven’t eaten much. If at all.” TK looked at him pointedly, and Carlos couldn’t exactly deny that. He had grabbed a coffee, maybe had a few bites himself of the soup that Gwyn had almost force-fed him too and that had been it.

Hunger had been the last thing on his mind, and in truth, he honestly hadn’t really felt it.

“Spaghetti at twilight. How romantic.” Carlos mused, pushing off the couch to head to the kitchen when a hand caught his wrist.

“I love your cooking.”

Carlos looked down at TK who was staring up at him, a sudden serious look on his face that had him falter in his steps.

“You know that, right?” TK asked, looking a little worried now, and Carlos immediately nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. You’ve never shied away from telling me, and the noises you make sometimes should be illegal.” Carlos loved how he could always make TK smile, and the soft smile that the man propped up on the couch was currently donning had his stomach flip pleasantly.

“Your cooking brings me comfort. You bring me comfort.” TK bit his lip, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in that tell-tale manner of when he was trying to find his words. Carlos, frankly, has forgotten every single word he has ever learned in life when he realized what TK was implying.

“I will always want to eat your cooking. It’s – it’s comfort, it’s home.”

The hug was sudden, and he hadn’t even realized he had moved until he realized one moment he was standing, the next he was crouching next to the couch with TK in his arms. He felt lips gently press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and Carlos absently wondered how his life had suddenly turned a meaningful 180 with just one fateful meeting.

“You’re my comfort too.” Carlos whispered, squeezing TK a little tighter, smiling shakily when the latter didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. “When I think of home, you’re the first and last person that appears in my mind.”

TK let out a shiver at that, and Carlos pulled back slowly to run his thumbs along TK’s cheeks, the softness of the skin making his heart ache. And when TK reached up to grasp his wrists carefully, he couldn’t help but lean forward for a gentle press of their lips.

“But your cooking still has my vote pending.” Carlos let out a smirk before stepping out of their hold on each other to actually head to the kitchen, grinning when he hears a sound of offended disbelief from the living room.

“Rude!”

As he heats up their intended dinner, Carlos glances back at the couch where TK was still glaring at the pillow in his lap, muttering something under his breath. Shaking his head in fond amusement, he was about to re-toss the salad when TK’s phone that he had forgotten on the kitchen counter lit up with a call from an unknown number.

“TK! Your phone’s ringing, do you mind if I pick up?” Carlos called, and TK made a sound of affirmation. Picking up the device, Carlos pressed on the green ‘accept call’ button before lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?”

 The steady rhythm of raindrops falling suddenly sounded louder than anything in the world, the gray haze permeating through his thoughts as the onslaught of words slowly pieced together in his head.  

His grip on the phone slipped, eyes widening when the voice on the phone relayed news that he had never prepared to imagine, a call he had never been prepared to receive.

He could hear TK calling his name in concern and looked up to see a pair of worried green eyes fixated on him.

Swallowing thickly, Carlos let out a shuddering breath.

“Something’s happened to Judd and Grace.”

[bevioletskies]

meet me halfway (across the sky)

summary: Video calls back home were a rare treat for Apollo, considering how busy his life in Khura’in could be. Catching up with Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix was one thing. Getting a sudden call from Klavier was another. And talking to Klavier every day for hours about everything they never knew about each other was possibly the most unexpected thing of all.

word count: 12k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day five of seven (prompt: "parallels"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

Mild spoiler warning for Spirit of Justice, along with implied spoilers for Dual Destinies. Fic title is from the song Meet Me Half Way by Kenny Loggins.

“Uh, Mr. Wright, you’re way too close to the screen. Can you sit back a little?”

“Oops - sorry, Apollo! Still not used to this kind of technology, heh.”

“Sheesh, Daddy, you make yourself sound ancient - ”

“Ah! Did you guys start already? Attendez-moi!”

Chuckling, Apollo leaned back in his seat and waited while the three of them rearranged themselves in front of their webcam. He’d missed this, this camaraderie that he didn’t quite have with his current companions in Khura’in. There was something immensely comforting about it, about every time he managed to schedule a video call with everyone back home. It didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, given how busy they all were, how tricky the time difference could be, but when it did, it was the best part of Apollo’s week.

“Hey, guys,” Apollo said, waving sleepily. “What’s been going on?” He leaned closer, peering at his screen. “...Athena, why do you have a banana sticker on your forehead?”

“Why don’t you have a banana sticker on your forehead?” Athena retorted, peeling hers off with a flourish. “Anyway, everything’s been sehr gut! We’ve had, hm...I think four clients since we last talked? All acquitted, of course!”

“Anything interesting?” Apollo asked. “I’ve had twelve clients, myself.”

Phoenix frowned. “I’m...not so sure that’s a good thing. Are you getting enough sleep? I can’t imagine you having that many cases and not mixing them up. Keeping track of evidence alone must be a nightmare!”

“It’s been...a process,” Apollo said diplomatically, trying not to think about the dozens of folders he had on both his desktop and his actual desk that needed to be sorted in a way that made some semblance of sense. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Wright, I-I’m fine!”

“Famous last words,” Trucy huffed. “Polly, you need rest! We want you back home in one piece, after all.”

“At least I’m not accepting odd jobs anymore,” Apollo chuckled. “I don’t mind helping someone set up their internet or move their couch every now and then, but I can’t do everything.” He startled suddenly at the sound of his phone going off. “Oh - sorry, one sec.” His brows knitted together when he read the call display: Klavier Gavin.

“Apollo? Is something wrong?” Athena asked, concerned.

“I - uh…” Apollo hesitated, unsure of what to do. “I’m gonna mute myself for a second, hang on.” He did just that, then answered his phone. “Gavin? Are you...wait. Did you call me by accident?”

There was a long, lingering silence. Then, “Ach, I only just realized what time it is where you are. I should’ve texted first, ja?”

“Yeah, probably,” Apollo said, laughing awkwardly. “Is this, uh, urgent? It’s just - I’m in the middle of a video call, so…”

“Nein, nein, not all!” Klavier’s voice was too loud, too sharp. Apollo didn’t need to see his face to know what that meant. “You know what? Forget I called, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Apollo protested, frowning. “If you wanna talk for whatever reason, we can - ”

“I have somewhere I need to be, anyway, so, er - Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” Klavier quickly hung up before Apollo could get a word in edgewise. He stared at his phone, perplexed, before unmuting himself. The others looked as confused as he was.

“What happened?” Phoenix asked.

“...Prosecutor Gavin called me?” Apollo shook himself a little. “I’ll get back to him later, so - anyway, what were we talking about?”

_____

Three days passed before Klavier responded to the inquiring text message Apollo had sent him after he’d finished talking to the others. He still didn’t seem ready to talk about it - whatever it was - but he did suggest they do a video call of their own, to which Apollo agreed. Something about Klavier’s behavior was bothering him, and he was more curious about it than he expected to be.

“Forehead? You’re staring, achtung. I know I’m handsome, but you should really keep those eyes of yours under control. They’re going to get you in trouble someday, I’m sure of it.”

“I - ” Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Gavin? That’s how we’re starting this?”

“It was you who started it,” Klavier said petulantly, his tone not unlike a five-year-old’s. But really, Apollo couldn’t stop staring - not because of Klavier’s looks; he’d long made peace with how attractive he thought Klavier was and how much he didn’t want Klavier to know, but because of how tired Klavier seemed. Apollo had expected him to be in his usual “uniform”, his silver jewelry and perfect makeup and impeccably styled hair. Instead, Klavier was wearing an oversized sweater, his hair up in a loose topknot, his face completely bare. He still had that lazy, slightly flirtatious smile on his face, but he was slouching quite a bit, his arms loosely wrapped around his propped-up knee. With his cracked lips, acne scars, and hunched shoulders, he looked more human than Apollo had ever thought possible.

“How’ve you been?” Apollo asked, ignoring him. “I’m surprised you called. I haven’t heard from you in, like. Three months? Four? I swear, I’m losing all sense of time here.”

“Well, it’s not like we had a habit of talking in the first place, ja?” Klavier pointed out. “But...to borrow a phrase, I’m fine, though the courts have been so boring without you here. I almost miss the ringing ears I got after every single one of our trials.”

“Har, har,” Apollo drawled. “Congratulations, you and everyone else have broken me down into exactly two personality traits: sarcastic and loud. Are you proud of yourself?”

“You forgot ‘oblivious’,” Klavier supplied helpfully.

Apollo blinked. “...to what?” He blinked again. “Wait - ”

“Too late,” Klavier interrupted gleefully, beaming. “You’ve proven my point beautifully.” Apollo glared; not five minutes in, and he was already prepared to hang up. “Anyway, I’ve been sehr gut, for the most part. Work has been keeping me busy. You?”

“I’m pretty settled here by now,” Apollo said, shrugging. “It’s rough, y’know, trying to rebuild an entire legal system as the only defense attorney in the country, but, uh...at least I’m not completely alone. And as nerdy as it sounds, I’m actually really liking the work. Not the stress - that, I could do without - but the fact that I get to be a part of this big...thing. It’s exciting, I guess.”

“It’s not that nerdy,” Klavier reasoned. “Nerdy is reading law textbooks at night, under the covers. As a child.”

“...is it weird that I actually did that?” Apollo asked, wincing.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to blink, stunned. “Wait, really? I was talking about me.”

“Oh.” Apollo shifted in his seat, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed. I mean, obviously, I know you became a prosecutor at seventeen, but I just assumed you were a musical child prodigy and...I dunno, switched career paths at some point.”

Klavier let out a soft laugh. “Again, you flatter me, Herr Forehead, but I’m not a prodigy of any kind. Just some good old-fashioned hard work, you know?” He then frowned very slightly. “Though...I’ll admit, I’m not sure how much of my standing at the prosecutor’s office also came down to good old-fashioned nepotism. After all, Kristoph…” He trailed off, unwilling to say more.

Apollo shuddered. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get his former boss’s maniacal laughter out of his head. “Right, um...oh, have you had any interesting cases lately? Athena was telling me she had a literal gravedigger as a client - no prizes for guessing where the victim’s body was discovered…”

The next hour seemed to fly by surprisingly quickly, with the two of them exchanging light-hearted anecdotes about work. As it turned out, they’d both had many interesting cases since the last time they spoke. It wasn’t until Apollo could barely keep his eyes open that he realized what time it was.

“Ach, don’t let me keep you,” Klavier said when Apollo yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row. “You have work in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Wait, but - ” Apollo yawned yet again “ - but we never got around to...whatever it was you were calling about the first time. Your so-called ‘nothing’.”

Klavier’s expression sobered instantly, his mouth pulling back into a hard line. “I’m not going to bother lying to you, Apollo. But I’m not interested in telling you, either. So let’s leave it at that, ja?”

“I...oh.” Apollo nodded, feeling somewhat chastised. “Fine. Fine, we don’t have to - but if you wanna, y’know, catch up again sometime, let me know, okay? I’ve got time to talk. Er, I think.”

Klavier laughed, surprised, though his eyes were still wary. “Do you actually...miss me, Forehead?”

“You really know how to ruin a moment, Gavin,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, talk to you later...maybe. Haven’t decided on whether I actually want to anymore, jerk.”

Klavier continued to grin. “Auf Wiedersehen, baby.” Apollo tried not to think about how the last word had made him shiver.

Weeks went by before Apollo heard from Klavier again, a few days after he’d had a two-hour long call with Trucy. Apollo���s voice was a bit hoarse from all the talking he’d done - not to mention how angry he’d gotten in court just yesterday after a particularly smug witness tried to take over the entire trial - but nevertheless, he was surprised at how happy he was to see Klavier, a feeling he was mostly unfamiliar with.

“Do you have a cold?” Klavier asked. “Your voice sounds a bit strained and raspy.”

“My brain feels strained and raspy,” Apollo groaned. He then paused; for some reason, the exchange sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “It’s nothing, I just got pissed and yelled at someone in court yesterday. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“But isn’t yelling your default?” Klavier smirked. He looked more relaxed than last time, the tension in his face less noticeable. “I hope the rest of the trial went well, at least.”

“Oh, it didn’t,” Apollo said, snorting. “But...past’s in the past. I have too many cases to deal with to bother worrying about one crappy witness. My client was acquitted, I got the real culprit, you know the deal. It’s all starting to blur together, to be honest.”

“It sounds like you need to get out more,” Klavier suggested, not unkindly. “Is there any sort of...nightlife in Khura’in? Recreational activities, maybe? Don’t make me bother Fräulein Detective and get her to drag you to a bar every now and then.”

“We go out to eat or drink sometimes,” Apollo replied, shrugging. “But...I dunno. I don’t really have the time to take up a new hobby or whatever. My free time is for eating, sleeping, and catching up with people back home.”

“Fair enough, though you really should lighten your workload,” Klavier said sagely. “It’s not like you took cases every day when you were here, ja? I know Khura’in needs your help, but what good are you to them if you’re burnt out?”

Apollo’s eyes widened slightly, stupefied. Then, he tried - and failed - to stifle a laugh. “Okay, Dad. Sheesh, you sound like Mr. Wright trying to give me a pep talk.” He sat back in his seat, loosely running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, then, question for you - when’s the last time you took a day off?”

“I went to visit my parents last Saturday,” Klavier answered after taking a moment to think. “They needed help cleaning and packing away some of...some of his things.” He visibly swallowed, though he tried to hide it with a sharp cough. After some consideration, Apollo decided not to comment on it.

“That’s hardly a day off,” Apollo retorted instead. “I mean, it’s technically not work, but - wait. Do you usually work on weekends, too?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, confused. “Do you mean to say you don’t?”

“No, I - I work on weekends more than I should,” Apollo admitted. “But it’s kinda hypocritical of you to tell me to get out more when you don’t have much of a life, either, y’know. Also, are you seriously telling me you don’t have, like. Other things to do? People to see, places to be? Not that spending time with your parents is a bad thing, I-I mean, it’s cool that you do, it’s just...well.”

Klavier averted his eyes, reaching across his desk to pick up his mug of tea. He took his time with it, drinking at a leisurely pace, before finally speaking again. “Do you actually care to know, Forehead? Or are you just asking to ask?” he said evenly.

“I…” Apollo found himself caught off-guard by both the question and his own answer. “No, I actually wanna know. ‘Cos it’s just - it’s not what I imagined. I’ve seen all the headlines and photos and stuff, so…”

“Ah.” Klavier smiled ruefully. “From the early Gavinners days, I take it? Back when I had Daryan around to be my bad influence? Nein, that’s not exactly my style anymore. I already feel too old for that kind of scheisse. Now, I do these things out of obligation, you know? Work parties, family events...nothing too wild. Not when I’ve been involved in too many scandals. Better to lay low than to put myself out there again, ja?”

“I...I see.” Apollo went quiet for a moment, ruminating. He couldn’t help but notice Klavier had neatly avoided the word “friend”; he was starting to wonder how many he actually had. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had ever mentioned anyone outside of people that Apollo himself already knew.

“You’re staring again, Forehead.” Klavier leaned closer, resting his chin in his hands, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “There’s no one nearly as pretty as me in Khura’in, I take it? Don’t worry, I’d be surprised if there was.” Apollo said nothing, instead lifting a hand from his own mug of honey lemon tea to flip him off. Klavier merely laughed in response, delighted.

_____

After that, the gap between video calls went down from a few weeks to a few days. Neither of them knew why, but somehow, they’d come to a silent agreement that they were going to talk once or twice a week about nothing in particular. However, Apollo still hadn’t quite figured out why Klavier had called him the first time. Initially, he suspected it had something to do with Kristoph, given that the Gavins were finally starting to pack up his things. Maybe Klavier had visited him recently, or maybe he’d reminisced a little too long about their shared childhood, whatever that looked like. But when Apollo had asked, Klavier had simply shrugged it off.

“It’s no secret that even thinking about thinking about Kristoph puts me in a foul mood,” Klavier had replied. “But I haven’t seen him lately, nein. I’m done, I’m - I just want to move on with my life, without his shadow lurking in the darkness.”

Not all their conversations were so heavy, though; once they’d finally caught up on everything they’d missed out on over the last several months, their topics turned mundane, even silly. Apollo never expected to spend one of his precious free Saturday mornings arguing with Klavier, of all people, about breakfast, of all things, but here he was.

“Yes, I’ve had instant ramen for breakfast, what of it?!” Apollo had exclaimed defensively. “Add an egg, some bacon bits...what’s your problem?”

“My problem is your sodium intake,” Klavier had protested. “Bitte, tell me you eat actual fruits and vegetables from time to time. Tell me you have some semblance of a balanced diet and your stomach hasn’t just turned into a toxic wasteland.”

Apollo wasn’t sure why he was talking to Klavier so often, so suddenly, in all honesty. Part of him supposed it was because Klavier just happened to be there - after all, he seemed freer to talk than Phoenix, Trucy, or Athena, and he wasn’t bad company when he wasn’t not-so-stealthily insulting Apollo in court. But another part of him, the part he desperately wanted to ignore, felt oddly comforted by Klavier’s probably-fake accent and his too-wide smile. Klavier’s presence in his small, chilly Khura’inese bedroom almost made him feel like he was back home.

“Have you seen the others lately?” Apollo asked one evening, bundled up in the thickest blanket he could find. There was a draft coming in from somewhere that he had yet to take care of, and neither Datz nor Ahlbi were too interested in checking it out, either. “Or...I dunno. Watched any of Trucy’s shows?”

“I’ve only seen them around at crime scenes and the courthouse,” Klavier replied. Apollo couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a peek over Klavier’s shoulders at his surroundings in curiosity. For once, Klavier was sitting on his bed instead of at his desk or in what was presumably his home office. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have a huge, ostentatious-looking bedroom that was probably bigger than Apollo’s office. “Things have been...busy at the Gavin estate. I don't have much time to socialize with colleagues.”

“Busy?” Apollo echoed, sitting up. “More cleaning, you mean?”

“My parents aren’t retired, but sometimes, they act like they are,” Klavier said wryly. “They want to remodel so many rooms - the kitchen, the conservatory, my old playroom...so I’ve been going home quite a bit these days, helping them with the little things. It was nostalgic, seeing all the toys I used to play with. Feels like a lifetime ago, achtung.”

“What was your thing?” Apollo asked. “Beanie Babies? Barbie Dreamhouses? Legos? Wait, let me guess - you had one of those Fisher-Price piano playmats, didn’t you? Don’t even lie to me.”

“I would never own something so tacky,” Klavier protested; he almost seemed offended. “Nein, Mama was all about wooden toys - blocks, cars, dollhouses, kitchen sets - it’s very aesthetically pleasing. With the occasional soft toy, ja, but we never had plastic.”

“Interesting,” Apollo said, humming. “Same here, no plastic for us. Only, uh - not for the same reasons. More out of...necessity.”

“Oh.” Klavier’s expression softened. “Ja, I suppose in your...situation, you wouldn’t be able to get new things easily.” He then smirked. “Now I’m trying to imagine you and Herr Sahdmadhi as children. I can’t picture either of you with dolls or teddy bears.”

“Try actual frogs and actual bunnies,” Apollo said, sinking down further into his chair. “We were outdoorsy kids, believe it or not. Scraped knees and sunburns and all. But now, uh, good luck dragging me away from air conditioning and indoor plumbing. You couldn’t pay me to abandon my weighted blanket.”

“Picky, picky,” Klavier teased, grinning. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m too comfortable with being comfortable to like change. Though...I suppose that’s not really up to us, is it? Changing?”

“How philosophical of you,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that deep, Gavin, I’m just saying I’m not interested in sleeping outdoors again anytime soon. One instance of me waking up with ants in places that you definitely don’t want ants was enough.” He then chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And honestly, who does like change? It’s like when I get a new client, right, and every time, something changes on me. Evidence, circumstances, logic...hell, it’s your fault sometimes!”

“When did this become about me?” Klavier chuckled, still smiling.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back. “It’s like you have this...this uncanny ability to turn any normal conversation into an opportunity for you to wax poetic, just so you can sound cool. If you ask me, it’s more dorky than anything else.”

Klavier’s mouth dropped open. “...Apollo Justice, are you calling me a dork?”

“Maybe I am, Klavier Gavin. What are we, Prosecutor von Karma?” Apollo snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, but between you and her, I think I know which one of you is actually German.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very German,” Klavier protested, wagging an accusing finger at his screen. “Both of my parents grew up in Germany; they only came to the States so they could get their master’s. They had me learn German by watching Janoschs Traumstunde and Die Sendung mit der Maus, and Mama taught me how to make spätzle and schupfnudeln and reibekuchen - ah, and my favorite dessert? Bienenstich.”

Apollo held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you. I just think your accent’s a little...questionable. You sound like someone who got too overconfident in their dedication to Duolingo.”

“Ach,” Klavier said, laughing. “Anyway, do you mean it? Am I really...dorky?”

“Wow, you’re even more hung up on that than I thought,” Apollo teased, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing as well. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Image is a big deal to you, after all. Yes, Gavin, you’re a huge dork. How can you not be when you say shit like - like ‘tell me you share my angst, Herr Forehead’ - ”

“And you think my accent is terrible,” Klavier mused, sighing. “So sue me, I like to embellish. I like a little romance in my language - it makes life more interesting, you know? Though I suppose you wouldn’t understand, being the kind of person that you are. You wouldn’t know romance if it asked you to dinner.”

“Ugh, that reminds me.” An involuntary shudder went through Apollo’s entire body. “I had a client ask me out a few weeks ago. Like, seconds after I got him acquitted. As if that was all he was thinking about while the judge declared him not guilty.”

Klavier went still. “...really? What happened? What did you say?”

“I said no, obviously!” Apollo exclaimed, loud enough that he briefly wondered if he’d accidentally woken up his neighbors. “He wasn’t a murderer, but he was still a shitty person. Besides, shitty or not, it’s kind of an unspoken thing to not date clients and co-workers, isn’t it?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier said, waving a hand aimlessly. “I’m just...surprised.”

“That someone was interested in me? Thanks, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes.

“That someone thought it was a good idea,” Klavier corrected, mouth twisting into a slight frown. “You’re perfect...ly acceptable, Forehead. As a, ah, person to go on a date with, I mean.” He cleared his throat; it seemed to get stuck quite often these days. “Anyway - surely, he didn’t think you would agree!”

“I dunno what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all in the first place,” Apollo sighed, shivering once more. “At least Ema got a good laugh out of it.”

Klavier straightened up, his expression quickly returning to normal. “How is she, by the way? I can only imagine that Khura’in is completely covered in luminol by now.”

“She’s adjusted pretty well, though she’s used to living overseas,” Apollo shrugged. “Her Khura’inese needs some work, though. Er, not that mine’s much better, I’ve been gone for too long. It’s coming back to me...slowly. Very slowly.”

“Sometimes I forget that you speak another language, too,” Klavier remarked. “Considering your grasp of English…”

“My English is fine, thanks,” Apollo huffed; it seemed like he couldn’t go one conversation without wanting to stick his tongue out at Klavier like they were unruly children on a school playground. Or, alternatively, flipping him off like they were fighting over the last parking spot. “Just ‘cos I don’t get all fancy with it - ”

“Here we go again,” Klavier sighed, dropping his chin into his hands. “And you say I make everything about me, hm?”

“Two-way street, Gavin. Two-way street,” Apollo said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Besides, that’s...it’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? Poking at each other until someone gets legitimately pissed? Usually me, but still.”

“I didn’t know we had a ‘thing’,” Klavier said, cocking his head in curiosity. “Tell me more about this ‘thing’ of ours, bitte.”

“See? There you go again!” Now Apollo’s neighbors were definitely awake; he didn’t have to look out the window to know that their lights were coming back on. “You can’t go two seconds without being...smarmy about something. It’s like a bad habit of yours, and I know a thing or two about bad habits.”

“What’s yours?”

Apollo blinked. Klavier had asked so suddenly, so immediately, that he’d barely heard what he’d said. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your bad habit,” Klavier elaborated. “I know you were talking about spotting other people’s tells, but I’m more curious about yours. You’d think that, since I get on your nerves so easily, I’d be able to see it myself, but…” He shrugged, still smiling. It was one of those indiscernible expressions of his that frustrated Apollo so much, the kind of bland, indifferent smile that seemed to mean anything and nothing at the same time. The kind of smile Klavier had in court as he reviewed the facts of the case, or when he ran into Apollo at a crime scene, or even when he talked about not talking about his brother.

“I...I, uh, never really thought about it.” Apollo hummed, thinking it over. “Messing with my hair, I guess? I’ve definitely, literally pulled my hair out before whenever I’m, like. Nervous. Stressed. Worried. Or, y’know, all of the above. I even had a crooked hairline in high school ‘cos I used to do it all the time.”

Klavier lifted his head from his hands, looking at Apollo in awe. He was quiet for so long that Apollo almost asked him if his internet connection had cut out, only to watch Klavier fuss with his bangs, then push them back completely, exposing his hairline, near-identical to what Apollo’s used to look like. It was only then that Apollo realized he’d never seen Klavier with his hair completely up. Of course, he’d seen Klavier do ponytails, braids, even space buns if he was feeling particularly stylish, but his bangs were always swept over his left eye. Now, he could see why.

“...oh.” Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. “I...I see. Is that, uh, recent?”

Klavier nodded shortly, then briefly turned away to grab a hair tie from his bedside table. He held the hair tie between his teeth while he gathered up his hair and twisted it into a neat knot; Apollo tried not to stare at the fullness of Klavier’s bottom lip, sticking out in a perfect pout, as he did. “Can I tell you a secret, Herr Forehead?”

“Oh - er - okay, abrupt change of topic there,” Apollo muttered, more to himself than to Klavier. “I guess so. What’s up?”

“I...haven’t decided how I feel yet about my parents remodeling our family estate.” Klavier’s tone was casual, but Apollo knew by now that it meant nothing. “I know why they’re doing it, I just don’t know why they’re doing it now. Nothing has changed, you know? They’re still working, I’m still working...Kristoph is still in prison.”

“Well, I don’t...know your parents or anything,” Apollo said carefully. “But i-it could be, like, a healing process thing. Starting fresh and all that, you know? But maybe it’s really not that deep. Maybe they literally just felt like, hey, now’s the right time to renovate. You could ask ‘em.”

“Ah - nein, I couldn’t inconvenience them like that,” Klavier said, chuckling awkwardly. He was already starting to mess with his hair once more. “If I expressed anything other than my complete support, they would stop immediately. And they’ve already sacrificed so much for me, I would never...I can’t…”

“Gavin,” Apollo said softly.

“It’s just a few rooms.” Klavier inhaled sharply. “What does it matter? It’s not like I live there. If Mama wants to turn our playroom into a crafting room, it...it makes sense.”

Their conversation, understandably, didn’t last too long after that. Apollo crawled into bed, still wrapped up in his blankets, with over a dozen trains of thought trekking through his mind, more of them about Klavier than he wanted to admit. He’d never thought of Klavier as an inherently private person - at times, he seemed almost too open to speaking his mind - but now, he could see that in some ways, he had been completely wrong.

_____

Unlike before, a few weeks passed before they had another video call. Klavier was wearing a muscle tank this time, his hair scraped back into a messy bun, his bangs perfectly placed. Apollo found himself more than a little distracted by the broadness of Klavier’s shoulders, by the length of Klavier’s neck. “Entschuldigung for last time,” Klavier said smoothly, by way of greeting. “Let’s not have me treat our conversations like my therapy sessions, ja?”

“It’s fine, Gavin,” Apollo reassured him. “One comment about how you’re feeling is no big deal. If you wanna talk, then...talk. Honestly, I’m a huge law nerd, and I could talk about Khura’inese legal practices all day, but, uh, I could definitely use a conversation or two that’s about something completely different.”

Klavier nodded, seemingly thinking it over. “...I like your hair.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “...and I like your shirt. What, are we on a shitty speed date? C’mon, you can do better than that!”

“Ach, you didn’t let me finish,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “I just meant...I like your hair like this. It looks...soft. Less severe. Something that would be nice to touch, you know?”

“I...oh.” A pleasant tingle went up Apollo’s spine. Klavier’s voice was low, warm, especially through his headphones. He brushed his hair back behind his ears, ducking his head slightly so Klavier wouldn’t notice the heat rising in his cheeks. “Trucy introduced me to some new hair products a while back. Said it was stuff she uses to make her hair look extra shiny under the stage lights. Er, n-not that that’s why I’m using it, just...it’s nice to treat myself every now and then.”

Klavier suddenly perked up. “Speaking of treating yourself, that reminds me - you know the best way to help you with all that stress and tension you’re dealing with? A gut massage. Surely, there are some facilities like that in Khura’in, ja?”

Apollo fixed Klavier with a withering look. “...Gavin, we just had a revolution here, like, six months ago. Getting a massage and a facial is hardly anyone’s priority right now, believe me. It’s not like the legal system is off in its own little world, y’know? The economy, the sociopolitical order…everyone considers themselves lucky that they can go about their day-to-day lives, but luxury goods and services? Not here, not yet.”

“Shame, though I can’t fault Khura’in for having its priorities in order,” Klavier said, frowning slightly. “Well, if I ever get bored enough and feel like hopping on a plane, maybe I’ll come visit and give you a massage myself.”

“I’m not paying for your ticket,” Apollo retorted, his cheeks reddening once more. “And are you even qualified?”

“I always massage Papa’s shoulders whenever I go to my parents’ house,” Klavier mused thoughtfully. “He gets sore from all the gardening he does. You should see our estate garden; it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

Apollo’s nose twitched. “I’m, uh, I’m sure it does. Hey, so - tell me about your parents. You’ve mentioned them a bunch of times, but I don’t actually know that much about them.”

“High school sweethearts,” Klavier said with an almost dreamy smile on his face. “The old-school kind, slipping love letters into each other’s bags between classes and all that. Now, they’re both college professors at the same school. They both act like practical, no-nonsense people, but the truth is, they're both romantisch at heart.”

“And then passed that on to you,” Apollo nodded. “Makes sense. They sound adorable, actually.”

“I never had a high school sweetheart of my own,” Klavier sighed wistfully. “I can’t imagine how...all-consuming that must feel. To be so young, to be so sure that this one person, the only person you’ve ever loved, will be the only person you’ll ever love.”

“I guess that’s where we differ,” Apollo said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, surprised at himself. He wasn’t sure where his comment had come from, why he’d blurted it out loud without a second thought. “I, uh, I had...something like that. Someone like that.”

“...oh.” Klavier furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What happened?”

Apollo ducked his head, unable to look Klavier in the eye. “...you know what happened to him.”

Klavier’s eyes widened in realization. “Ach - Apollo, I’m so - ”

“Don’t, I - don’t,” Apollo insisted, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s not, uh. It’s not something I really wanna talk about.”

Klavier seemed unable to speak for a moment, his eyes shining with pity. Apollo hated it, hated how genuinely sorry Klavier looked, as if he had anything to do with it at all. Klavier opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “...I’ve written songs about my parents, actually. Not that you’ll find them on any Gavinners’ albums, just little love ballads that I played at their anniversary parties and vow renewal. They were big hits with my extended family - the one I wrote when I was ten years old is an absolute classic.”

“I’m sure it was,” Apollo chuckled, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “How about now, you write anything recently?”

“Barely a tune since the Gavinners disbanded,” Klavier admitted. “I haven’t felt all that inspired lately. Maybe someday it’ll come back to me, but right now...nothing. Nichts.”

“Good luck, I guess,” Apollo offered. “By the way, what’s with the tank top? Is it that hot over there already?”

“I’ve always been hot, Forehead, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Klavier said, grinning victoriously at the almost too obvious bait.

Apollo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I will hang up on you someday, Gavin, don’t think I won’t.”

_____

The gap between video calls quickly dwindled down from a few days to no days at all. Text messages were constant, to the point where Apollo had to sheepishly ask Nahyuta how to upgrade his phone plan. Even phone calls started to increase in frequency; Apollo was starting to think he heard Klavier’s voice more often than he heard Ema’s, and they often spent entire days in each other’s presence.

“How do you feel about peaches?” Apollo asked, his phone carefully sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he deftly navigated his way through the farmer’s market, nearly tripping over a stray dog as he did so.

“Great emoji,” Klavier replied semi-seriously, though Apollo could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Although...Forehead, if this is your subtle way of asking me for my opinion on Call Me By Your Name, I’ll have you know I never learned how to play Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo fratello dilettissimo. Now, Zion Hört Die Wächter Singen, on the other hand - ”

“Need I remind you, I only speak English, Khura’inese, and college-level Spanish?” Apollo interrupted, shaking his head. “Anyway, peaches are basically a delicacy here. Sucks for me, since I’m allergic to stone fruit.”

“Same, I can only eat them cooked. I love a good cherry pie,” Klavier hummed. “Did you remember to get kale this time?”

“Yeah, I got a huge bundle of it right here,” Apollo said, jostling his wicker basket loudly enough so Klavier could hear. A few market patrons turned to look at him strangely. “Thanks again for the tip, by the way. I’m still getting used to cooking stuff that’s not instant or frozen, so roasting vegetables is a total game-changer.”

“Glad to hear you’re eating actual fruits and vegetables now,” Klavier replied, chuckling. “So, I had a case go kaput today. Thought you might want to hear about it.”

“Obviously!” Apollo said, lighting up. “What did you do?”

“Achtung, why do you think it was my fault?” Klavier protested, his laughter warm in Apollo’s ear.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back, laughing as well. “Seriously, what happened? Can’t be as bad as...literally anything that’s happened to me.”

“Nein, not quite,” Klavier agreed. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t up against Athena or Herr Wright. Some rookie, I think; I was going to go easy on them. That is, until the defendant, apparently overcome with guilt, decided to bring their own decisive evidence to prove that they did, in fact, kill the victim.”

“No!” Apollo exclaimed. More market patrons turned in his direction, glaringly so. He shot them apologetic grimaces, then ducked behind a watermelon display. “Really? Like, are we talking fingerprints, photographs…”

“Everything, Forehead, everything. I couldn’t have convicted them better myself,” Klavier remarked. “Obviously, I take no joy in celebrating crime, especially murder, but ach, I consider that one of the highlights of my career. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if you were there. I can picture your dumbfounded expression now.”

“You’re terrible,” Apollo informed him, with no real bite behind his words. “But...not gonna lie, that’s kind of incredible. I feel bad for the defense, though. I’ve been screwed over by clients before, but usually not that badly.” He then heard a sharp wuff somewhere by his feet; he glanced down to see the dog he’d nearly tripped over before was now sitting on top of his toes, looking up at him with literal puppy-dog eyes. “...uh, hello. Did you need something?”

“What’s that?” Klavier asked.

“Oh - sorry, not you, Gavin. A stray dog just came over to say hi, I guess.” Apollo crouched down, taking care not to tip his basket. “Hey, buddy. I’m not the one to beg for food, if that’s what you’re looking for. All I can offer is, like, a belly rub.”

“Wait, switch to video, I want to see this,” Klavier pleaded, laughing again. Sighing, Apollo turned on his camera, then aimed his phone at the dog, who was now rolling over onto its back, its tail thumping enthusiastically against the cobblestone. “Ah, what an adorable hündchen! Go on, Forehead, don’t make him wait.” Sighing yet again - at Klavier, naturally, not the dog; he could never begrudge the dog - Apollo carefully set his basket down, then began rubbing the dog’s belly, smiling at the adorably goofy look the dog gave him in return, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his eyes closing in utter bliss. “Hold still for a moment, bitte? I want to make this my contact photo for you.”

“Gavin, I swear - ”

“Uh, Apollo? What are you doing?”

Apollo startled at the sound of a new voice; his eyes widened when he looked up and realized who it belonged to. “Ema! He-e-ey, wh-what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ema replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you petting a dog while video-calling Gavin at the farmer’s market?”

“...because I can?” Apollo offered meekly, straightening up. He quickly hung up on Klavier before Ema could attempt to talk to him, silently noting the need to send him an apology text later. “Hey, um - th-there’s a discount on tangyuan today, you wanna go all out and split the cost with me?”

Ema continued to eye him suspiciously. “Sure. But please don’t insult my intelligence - you can’t just distract me with snacks, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Apollo sighed, giving the dog one last pat on the head before leading Ema across the market, towards the aforementioned snack stall. “We just...we talk sometimes. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, if you guys just do video calls every now and then,” Ema said. “But here you are, shopping for produce and chatting with Gavin at the same time. It’s...a little domestic, don’t you think?”

“D...domestic?” Apollo echoed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I just didn’t think you and Gavin had that kind of relationship, that’s all,” Ema continued, shrugging as she popped a grape from her own basket into her mouth. “Listen, I couldn’t care less about that guy. But you’re my friend, so...I have to ask. Is something, y’know...going on there?”

“Wh - no, no, no, o-of course not!” Apollo ducked behind Ema the second he felt the glares of the market patrons turn to face him, again. He was starting to think he wasn’t going to be welcome back for a couple of weeks, at least. “I - he - we’re friends! It’s kinda new, b-but we’re friends. Just friends. He’s, like...pretty decent when he’s not being obnoxious in court. Or at a crime scene...or just in general.”

Ema snorted, reaching over to steal a strawberry from Apollo’s basket next. “I think it’s time you hop off that bicycle of yours, Apollo, because you’re obviously backpedaling.”

“Tortured metaphor, but okay,” Apollo muttered, glowering at her.

“How’d you guys end up talking in the first place, anyway?” Ema asked, chewing noisily. “I can’t imagine you were the one to initiate it.”

“It...I’m not sure, actually,” Apollo admitted, slapping her hand away before she could steal his entire carton of freshly-picked strawberries. They were probably more expensive than all the vegetables he’d purchased, combined. “Gavin called me a while back, seemed embarrassed about it, and then hung up. I asked him later what was going on, we started doing video calls and stuff, and then it turned into a thing, but…I never figured out why he called the first time. And I don’t think there’s any point in asking.”

“Fair enough, though I gotta admit, I’m still curious. For scientific purposes, of course,” Ema added, humming to herself. “Maybe he...no, there’s no way.”

“You know something I don’t?” Apollo asked, nudging her. “What happened to ‘I couldn’t care less’?”

“Believe me, I really couldn’t,” Ema retorted, elbowing him back. “Surprises me that you have enough to talk about, though. I mean, it’s Gavin.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested; suddenly, he felt weirdly defensive of Klavier. Again, it wasn’t a feeling he was too familiar with. “We have more in common than you think. It’s not all just - just guitar riffs and hair tosses with him.”

“If you say so,” Ema sighed, clearly uninterested in pursuing the topic any further. “C’mon, let’s pick our flavors already. And if you short me on black sesame, I will be taking those strawberries of yours.”

Later that evening, Apollo was cocooned in his usual plethora of blankets, poring over the evidence for three separate cases - honestly, the autopsy reports were starting to blur together, which explained why, for a moment, he thought one of the victims had somehow ended up with a bullet hole in their stomach from being stabbed with a blunt object - when his phone went off. He immediately perked up when he read the call display. “Gavin, hey. Sorry again about earlier, you know how Ema is.”

“Keine Sorge, you already apologized,” Klavier replied. “That’s not why I was calling, in any case.”

Apollo frowned slightly, putting Klavier on speakerphone and nestling his phone among his files. “Oh? I, uh, I thought you were just calling to chat.”

“Ja, we can talk about whatever we feel like after, it’s just - I had a question for you.” The deep breath Klavier took before speaking again made Apollo nervous. “Are you homesick?”

“...huh?” Apollo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Well, I mean. Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Khura’in was my home once, so it’s not like I’m in a completely new place, but it’s...yeah, I miss being back home, traffic jams and heatwaves and all. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Klavier said innocently, in that sort of tone of voice that made Apollo want to reach through the phone and strangle him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“There’s either no reason, or a reason that I’ll learn soon enough. Pick one, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. All he got in response was warm, throaty laughter that sent pleasant tingles down his spine. “Fine, don’t tell me. So, what’re you up to?”

“Just got back from my morning run.” There was a rustling of sound on Klavier’s end that suggested he was still walking around somewhere, presumably inside his apartment. Apollo could only imagine how sweaty he still was, how his skin glistened in the mid-morning sun - and now, he realized belatedly, he wasn’t sure if it was something he should be thinking about at all. “You know, after all this time - I still hate it. Running, I mean.”

“Then why do you do it?” Apollo said, trying not to laugh. “Though to be fair, I feel the same way. Athena used to make me run laps around the agency’s neighborhood sometimes ‘cos I need to ‘improve my cardiovascular health’ or whatever. Never got any good at it.”

“I do it because it’s good for me, but achtung, I wish I actually liked it,” Klavier sighed. “The fresh air, the endorphins, it’s all gut and well, but you know what I can’t stand? Sweat-soaked hair. Sore ankles and stiff knees. Don’t get me started on the sunburns, ach.”

“Okay, old man,” Apollo chuckled. “You sound like a guy twice your age, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who once said they were starting to prefer blander foods over spicy foods - calling me an old man, mein Gott, the disrespect - ”

A few hours later, Apollo was fully curled up beneath his duvet, head resting on his pillow, eyes closed, with his phone tucked under his ear. Neither of them had spoken in a little while, though Apollo could hear Klavier humming under his breath while he worked on clearing out his email inbox. “...you really should take a day off, Gavin.”

“You first,” Klavier said without missing a beat. “Don’t trick yourself into thinking you have to take every case in the country, ja?”

“Same to you,” Apollo mumbled; he was starting to drift in and out of consciousness. “You’re working, like...stupidly long hours. It’s not like you’re the only prosecutor in the district.”

There was a long pause. “Mama said that to me the other day. She told me I should live a little.”

“And she’s right,” Apollo yawned. “Anyway, I’m not gonna get into this again. And it’s not like you have to do anything major, just...take a day off. Go get a massage or whatever. Hang out with friends, go on a date, I dunno.”

“Go on a date, right,” Klavier drawled sarcastically. “Easier said than done, ja?”

“What, is it the fame thing?” Apollo asked, eyes snapping open in curiosity.

“It’s the, ah. ‘Trusting people’ thing.” Klavier let out a quiet laugh. “After convicting mein Bruder, after convicting someone I thought was my best friend...who’s to say any future romantic partner of mine wouldn’t end up facing that same fate?”

“...oh.” Apollo’s face softened; part of him wanted to see Klavier’s expression, while another part of him had the feeling it was better this way, to only hear the slight rasp, the slight crack in Klavier’s voice as he spoke. He could only imagine the noticeable twitch in Klavier’s eyes, the forced smile on his lips, that he’d seen a surprising amount of times over the past few months. “I see. I-I get it. Not like I’m any good at trusting people, either.”

Klavier went quiet again. “Apollo?”

“I...oh. Yeah?” He couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had called him by his actual name.

“Be honest with me, ja?” Klavier murmured. “When we talk every day, when we text and chat and send each other silly things...is it something you actually like doing, or...or are you just bored?”

Apollo snorted. “Oh please, you know my schedule. I couldn’t be bored if I tried.” He nestled deeper into his pillow, yawning. “Nah, you’re...we’re friends. Talking to you is like...part of my routine now.”

“You mean it?” Klavier asked. He sounded so uncertain that it made Apollo’s heart ache.

“I don’t send stupid memes to just anybody, you know,” Apollo teased. “And look, I’m not pretending like this isn’t weird. If you asked me a year ago if I could see myself talking to you on a daily basis, I would’ve said, y’know, ‘never in a million years’. But things are different now, so...yeah. You’re not so bad, Gavin.”

“Ah, danke. What high praise, coming from you,” Klavier drawled, laughing. “But really, I’m glad to hear it. I...wasn’t sure if I was bothering you. When I called that first time, I suppose I had my answer. Then after that, I never really knew for sure.”

“Now you do,” Apollo affirmed, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

“Now I do,” Klavier echoed, satisfied. “So, how about you, Forehead? Any clients ask you out again recently?”

“No, thank god,” Apollo said, shuddering. “Besides, I’m, uh. I’m not exactly looking to date right now, either. I’m...I’m pretty good with how things are going at the moment. Maybe after I get back. Thinking about thinking about dating, I mean.”

“Smart.” Klavier’s voice was so clear, so warm, that it almost sounded as if he were in Apollo’s bedroom, too. Apollo briefly wondered what it would be like to have Klavier visit, to wander the farmer’s market with him, to take evening walks along the river and watch the fireflies together, to go through an endless number of cases with him by his side. He had to admit, it didn’t sound half-bad. Better than half-bad, really, not that he was going to say so out loud. “Long-distance is never easy. The time zones, the uncertainty, the inability to truly be together...I can only imagine.”

“Right,” Apollo hummed, his eyes drifting closed once more. “I can only imagine.” When he woke up the next morning, he found a text message waiting for him - a screenshot of Klavier’s home screen; its background was a photo of Apollo and the friendly dog. sehr süß, Klavier had texted, and the hündchen isn’t so bad, either. It was too early, in Apollo’s opinion, for his heart to be racing this quickly.

_____

Almost four months to the day since they started talking, Apollo arrived at the post office with a delivery slip in hand, visibly confused by its earlier presence on his front door. “Was this really meant for me?” he managed to ask in his steadily improving Khura’inese. “I never ordered anything from the United States. Just paying customs would make me broke!”

“It really is for you, Mr. Justice,” the receptionist replied. Apollo watched, stunned, as she dragged a crate-sized package out from behind her desk. “You must have people who really love you back home, sir.”

“I...w-wow.” Apollo didn’t know what to say. “Er, do you have someone who can help me bring this back to my office?”

Twenty minutes later, Apollo was sitting on the floor of Justice Law Offices, embarrassingly sweaty and sore from how much effort it had taken him and one of the post office employees to haul his delivery here. Groaning, he reached for his pocket knife, then carefully sliced through the tape, unwrapping the enormous package layer by layer. When he finally reached its actual contents, he sat back on his haunches, stunned by the sheer amount of items inside.

The package consisted of two sturdy boxes; one was labeled with Ema’s name, so Apollo took it out and set it aside. He then opened the one that bore his name, only to find it was packed surprisingly tight. Boxes and boxes of his favorite snacks that were too expensive to import to Khura’in, well-loved copies of his favorite manga that had clearly been taken from his apartment back home, thick stacks of the most obnoxious California-themed postcards known to humankind with handwritten notes on their backs - before Apollo knew it, his eyes started to well up with emotion. Finally, at the bottom of the box, cushioning the other items nicely, were a few of his sweaters and hoodies, some of which still had a few stray Mikeko hairs on it.

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, wiping his eyes hastily despite being completely alone. Then, he frowned. “Wait, what is…” He pulled out the only item of clothing he didn’t recognize, an unusually large hoodie in a familiar shade of purple with an embroidered rose on its breast pocket. Stuck to its left sleeve cuff was a sticky note; Apollo peeled it off and began to read what was on it.

herr forehead,

wear this the next time you go out, just in case you run into that hündchen again. It smells just a little bit like my parents’ dog - and like me, if you’re into that sort of thing.

alles liebe, klavier

Later that day - well into the evening, really - Apollo was eating dinner at his desk, rummaging through a hefty stack of police reports, when his laptop pinged, reminding him he had a scheduled video call that was about to start. Grinning, Apollo turned on his webcam, his heart pounding in anticipation. “Hey, Gavin. So, what do you think?”

“What do I think about - oh.” Klavier’s mouth fell open. “You’re...I didn’t think you were actually going to wear it.”

“Is, uh...is that a bad thing?” Apollo asked, suddenly nervous.

“Nein, nein, not at all! You look...achtung, you look good,” Klavier said hoarsely, swallowing. He then cleared his throat; his cheeks were flushed pink, much to Apollo’s delight. “Bitte, stand up for me? I want to see how long it is on you; it’s amazing you haven’t completely disappeared inside of it.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately, getting out of his chair and taking a few steps back so Klavier could see. He smoothed out the front of the hoodie, realizing belatedly that its hem only just grazed the tops of his bare thighs. “Er, don’t mind my legs. I-I’m wearing shorts underneath, I swear!”

“I don’t mind at all,” Klavier replied, cocking his head. His eyes were darkening, shining with something that Apollo couldn’t quite identify. “Have you worn it outside yet?”

“Nah, not yet. I was actually planning on wearing it to bed since it’s kinda cold, and this thing’s the biggest thing I have,” Apollo admitted, sitting back down. At Klavier’s exaggerated eyebrow raise, he groaned. “Shut up. Don’t make it weird.”

“I said nothing,” Klavier teased, dropping his chin into his hands. “So, did you like our care package? Trucy reached out to me on the same day you ran into that hündchen and asked if I had anything to contribute. I also sent Ema some old Gavinners’ merchandise, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I heard about it from her, alright,” Apollo chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Amazing how you manage to continue torturing her from several continents away. Maybe that’s your real talent.”

“To be fair, I was also the one who got her the beaker shot glasses and the glow-in-the-dark periodic table blanket,” Klavier pointed out, laughing as well. “I think all would be forgiven if she knew that was me.”

“So she gets new stuff and I get hand-me-downs, huh? I see how it is,” Apollo said, tucking his knees into his chest and yawning. “Seriously, though, thanks. This thing smells like that cologne of yours I don’t like.”

“And the backhanded compliments continue,” Klavier said, amused. “I hope you feel a little less homesick, at least.”

“Oh, I’m more homesick than ever,” Apollo snorted. “But I appreciate the care package, really! Having all this stuff here is amazing. It’s just...well. Stuff isn’t, uh...it’s not exactly a substitute for people, y’know?”

Klavier nodded thoughtfully, his smile sympathetic. Apollo took a moment to look at Klavier, to really look at him, and see how he was doing. He looked good; his skin had a glow to it, and his eyes and hair seemed to shine a little brighter than they had the very first time they’d talked. Klavier was bare-faced more often than not - aside from his tattooed eyebrows and eyelash extensions - though he seemed to be experimenting with his hair here and there, occasionally sporting different styles of ponytails, braids, and updos. It almost made Apollo forget how sullen he’d looked four months ago.

“Is that why you’re staring again?” Klavier asked, smirking. “Are you finally ready to admit you miss me, Forehead? That you miss my charming personality and my devastatingly good looks?”

“So what if I do?” Apollo huffed. He then frowned at Klavier’s wide eyes. “...what?”

“Nichts, it’s just - you do realize you just said you actually miss me, ja?” Klavier said disbelievingly. “Do you really mean it, or...or are you just saying that?”

“I-I...well.” Apollo shot him a small smile. “Yeah, Gavin, I miss you. Thought that was, uh. Kinda obvious by now.”

Klavier grinned victoriously; he looked seconds away from pumping his fist into the air. “Achtung, I knew it!”

“And the dorkiness continues,” Apollo said mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I mean it, how did you convince an entire generation of teenagers that you were cool? You go around saying crap like ‘let’s rock with these documents’ and ‘you have to get on up in order to get on down to prosecuting’ - are you an internationally-renowned rockstar, or an awkward dad trying to connect with his teenager through the power of classic rock? What’s next, Gavin, you gonna go buy a lawnmower and some cargo shorts? Fire up the grill and wear a kitschy apron?”

“Mein Gott, you’re vicious sometimes,” Klavier sighed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ich vermisse dich auch, by the way. I think I've been...a little more obvious than you.”

“Maybe,” Apollo hummed. “But hey, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel appreciated for once.”

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?” Klavier asked.

“I’m, er...I’m not sure,” Apollo said hesitantly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t think I was gonna be sticking around for this long to begin with, and now it’s...it’s gonna be the rest of the year, at least. Maybe even another year on top of that.”

“You...you think so?” Klavier’s voice was small. Nothing about his expression seemed remotely cheerful now.

“It’s not like I can leave whenever I want to,” Apollo shrugged, sighing. “Khura’in needs more defense attorneys before I could even begin to consider it, and that’s not gonna happen overnight. Not with their deeply ingrained feelings towards ‘em.”

“Wait - you’re not still in danger, are you?” Klavier asked worriedly, his voice suddenly filling with urgency. “No threats, no death sentences - ”

“I-I’m fine, Gavin, don’t worry,” Apollo reassured him. “It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute, back at the beginning, but everything’s fine now. Trust me, if something was going on, you would’ve heard about it earlier.”

“Gut,” Klavier said, satisfied. “After all, if something were to happen to you…” An odd expression flitted across his face, too quickly for Apollo to catch, though he had his suspicions. “Well. Trucy would be devastated, natürlich.”

“Right...just Trucy, huh?” Apollo murmured, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What about...oh, I dunno. Athena would be upset for sure. Can’t forget Mr. Wright, either.”

“Nein, definitely not,” Klavier said, clearing his throat. He paused before speaking again. “Forehead, do you ever wonder what Herr Wright really thinks of you?”

“Sure, all the time,” Apollo admitted. “We didn’t, uh...well, let’s just say we didn’t start off on the best foot, you know that. Why?”

“Because I do, too,” Klavier confessed. “Ach, I want to go the rest of my life not thinking about mein Bruder and all the lives he ruined, all the lives I helped him ruin, but - ”

“Gavin, that’s not what happened and you know it,” Apollo said gently. “And I’m not exactly sure how Mr. Wright feels about you, but I seriously doubt he still has a problem with you. He probably just feels a little, y’know, awkward. You guys went seven years without knowing the whole truth, after all.”

“Ich weiß, ich weiß, it’s just…” Klavier laughed bitterly. “...I’d like to go at least one day without worrying about what someone else thinks of me. Just one.”

Apollo suddenly found himself wishing he could reach through the screen and pull Klavier into his arms; it wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. You already know what I think about you.”

“Do I really?” Klavier teased, though he still looked somewhat worried.

“Yeah, sure,” Apollo replied, smirking. “You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. And, uh...I wouldn't have it any other way. I think.”

Klavier laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “You have a way with words, Forehead, you really do.”

“Thanks,” Apollo drawled, chuckling. “So, today’s case went about as well as expected - meaning it didn’t go well at all…”

_____

Khura’in was beautiful year-round, Apollo mused as he walked alongside the riverbank, but it was especially picturesque in the height of spring, during the month of May. He’d woken up unusually early today, especially given it was one of his very rare days off, not to mention the fact that he’d stayed up late last night, talking to Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix. For whatever reason, he had felt like taking his breakfast - anpan and a warm thermos of green tea - outside, while the sun was still rising. It was a peaceful backdrop for the start of what he hoped would be a peaceful day.

Yawning and stretching, Apollo dropped down to sit in the long grass, the worn-out toes of his boots grazing the water’s edge. He lifted his saddlebag off his shoulders and set it aside, raking his fingers through his hair. It was getting quite long in the back, he noted, but he didn’t care enough to cut it. Before he could take his first bite of his anpan, his phone started to ring. “...Gavin? What’s up, aren’t you going to bed soon?”

“I just wrote a song for the first time in ages, so I’m too alert to sleep at the moment,” Klavier admitted, his voice deeper and raspier than usual, sending shivers up Apollo’s spine. “I’m surprised you’re awake, too. It was only when I started calling you that I realized you were probably still in bed.”

“Felt like catching the sunrise for once.” Apollo turned on his phone camera, then switched it to the rear-facing one so Klavier could see what he was seeing. The entirety of Khura’in, it seemed, was momentarily bathed in a warm, yellow-orange glow. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s wunderschön,” Klavier remarked, awed. “Almost makes me wish I was in Khura’in.”

“I wish you were here, too,” Apollo said quietly. His eyes then widened. “Er, I-I mean - ”

“...Apollo?” Groaning internally, Apollo fumbled with his phone, reluctantly switching to his front-facing camera so he could shoot Klavier a nervous smile. He could see now that Klavier had turned on his camera, too; he appeared to be sitting on his bedroom floor, leaning up against a window, his face illuminated by moonlight. Somehow, his blue eyes were even brighter in the darkness, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows. Apollo’s breath hitched as he was momentarily rendered speechless. “Achtung, you still manage to surprise me after all this time.”

“I-I said nothing!” Apollo said hastily. “You’re - I - i-it’s early, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“If you’re planning on staying for even longer, I really should come and visit, ja?” Klavier continued, his grin equal parts sleepy and teasing. “For one thing, I can finally make good on that massage I promised you, get all that stress and tension out of your body. I could also bring you more of my clothes, since you seem to really like that hoodie of mine.”

“What would you even do here, anyway?” Apollo asked, momentarily looking away so Klavier wouldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “There’s no nightlife, barely any recreational activities...not to mention the wi-fi kinda sucks. Besides, it’s not like you’re allowed to prosecute in Khura’in.”

“Let me be your co-counsel,” Klavier offered. “After all, if Herr Blackquill can help Athena, why can’t I help you?”

“That...would be kinda interesting, actually,” Apollo admitted. “And where would you stay?”

“WIth you, natürlich,” Klavier replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After all, if you want me there, I should be as close as possible. I’d make the perfekt roommate, you know. I can cook for you, clean for you...it’d be domestic, nein? Like I’m your stay-at-home husband or something.”

Apollo shivered again. Despite his distaste for his lyrics, Klavier certainly had a way with words. “You wouldn’t be...I dunno, bored out of your mind? Things are definitely slower here compared to California, you know.”

“The change of pace would be nice,” Klavier said diplomatically. “And I certainly wouldn’t complain about the company.”

“Well, uh, sorry to break up your super-specific fantasy, but I think I’m actually pretty close to getting out of here,” Apollo said, trying not to linger too much on his own mental picture of what Klavier had described. “Another few months, maybe? Six, at most. And since it’s sorta unknown, I wouldn’t recommend booking plane tickets anytime soon.”

“Really?” Klavier perked up. “You’re coming home? Have you told the others?”

“Yeah, I talked to ‘em last night,” Apollo said, setting his phone down by his bag so he could finally take his first bite of anpan. “It’ll be weird once I return, that’s for sure. I’ve been in Khura’in for exactly one year, right down to the day, but...well. It’s definitely grown on me, even with all my...my mixed feelings about it. Though I, um...I guess those mixed feelings are more about a person than a place, and he’s...he’s, well...you know.” He swallowed thickly, reaching for his thermos and taking a generous gulp of his tea.

“Any regrets?” Klavier asked softly.

“About Khura’in, or d’you mean in general?” Apollo asked, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his nervous laugh.

“However you’d like to interpret it,” Klavier said, gesturing aimlessly. “I can be generous sometimes.”

“Yeah, real philanthropist, you are,” Apollo retorted, chuckling. “Well, you know I’ve had days where, like. I feel like I shouldn’t have stayed behind, after all. Like I’m way in over my head, and..like I’m not...not good enough. Like I’m just winging this whole thing, which is scary, ‘cos it’s like the entire country’s future is in my hands, and I can’t just - I can’t improvise. I can’t make it up as I go along, I-I have to know it. Do it, be about it. Make it my whole life, you know?” He stopped to take a breath; the sympathetic crinkle of Klavier’s brow was more welcome this time. “But no, I don’t regret sticking around. I just wish I’d gotten some closure.”

“Closure?” Klavier echoed.

“Yeah, there’s...I’ve got stuff I wish I’d been able to do or, or say before I ended up living here for twelve months,” Apollo confessed. “It’s not like I knew I was moving here when I did, so...it’ll be nice to head back home and settle in and...and get all of that out of the way.” He took a few more bites of his anpan as they ruminated in their shared silence. “How about you? Any regrets about, well, anything?”

“Me?” Then, to Apollo’s surprise - though maybe not to his surprise, given all that had been said and done between the two of them, just the two of them - Klavier let out a bitter laugh. “Always.”

Apollo’s face softened. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly, nein,” Klavier said, visibly shuddering. “Just once, I’d like to not drag our conversation down. Ach, and I used to think you were the buzzkill. Now look at me, ja?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gavin,” Apollo insisted. “I get it, you - you feel things really intensely. I know that now, and, uh. Well, I do it, too. And we hold it all in and we don’t say anything ‘cos there’s bigger things to worry about, a-and then it’s like...like a dam breaks. Like everything just comes rushing at you all at once. There’s no way of stopping it, as much as you want to, and when it’s finally over...you never know how to feel about it. Because it’s not cut and dry, i-it’s not black-and-white, it’s just...it just is. So you move on, ‘cos there’s nothing else you can do about it, and you keep going. And then it starts all over again.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Or, uh, or maybe I’m just describing what a trial feels like.” Apollo glanced back at his phone, only to see Klavier staring at him in wonderment. “...er, too much?”

“Not at all, it’s just...you’re always full of surprises,” Klavier murmured; he almost sounded impressed. “That was incredibly astute, especially for you.”

Apollo wilted. “...thanks. Glad to know you think so highly of my intellect.” Still, Klavier’s warm laughter managed to get him to crack a smile. “So, you said something about writing a new song? How’d that go?”

“I had a burst of inspiration, you might say,” Klavier said, nodding. “Like my muse sat beside me on the piano bench and hummed a melody in my ear.”

“That sounds more creepy than anything else, but okay,” Apollo snorted. “Can I hear it?”

“Nein, not yet,” Klavier replied mysteriously. “When the time is right, ja? Besides, it’s...it’s a bit personal.”

Apollo shifted slightly in his spot. “Personal, huh?”

“It’s about...someone who means a lot to me, and something I’ve been meaning to say to them,” Klavier said carefully. “Because...I’ve been looking for closure, too. And possibly, if I do it right, I might also get a new beginning. Does that make sense?”

“It’s a little cheesy, but, uh, yeah. Makes sense.” Apollo pulled his knees into his chest, resting his chin on top of them with a quiet exhale. “Do I know this someone of yours?”

“Ja, definitely,” Klavier murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re not mine, but...I want them to be.”

“I...I see.” Apollo felt his own pulse pounding in his ears, so loudly that he could barely hear his own voice. “Hey, Gavin, I - I wanted to - there’s something I’ve been wanting to say, and...and I…”

“What is it?” Klavier asked, sitting up, hopeful.

“Well, I...no, n-never mind.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Probably should, um. I should probably save it for when we see each other in person.” Klavier leaned back, disappointed. “Anyway, you, uh, you should probably sleep now if you wanna be awake enough for work. Unless you take the day off like I did.”

“I might actually consider it,” Klavier chuckled. “And we’ll talk tomorrow, ja? Or later today for you, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” Apollo confirmed, nodding.

Something in Klavier’s eyes seemed to shift then, something Apollo couldn’t quite understand. It happened more and more with each passing day, with every conversation, and Apollo wasn’t sure if he was ready to figure out what it meant, if it meant something other than what he hoped it meant. “Du siehst wunderschön aus in diesem licht.”

Apollo blinked. “Sorry?”

“Never mind,” Klavier said, a sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Guten Morgen to you, Herr Forehead.”

“And goodnight to you, Gavin,” Apollo replied, waving briefly before ending the call. He sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing his tea and enjoying the sun’s warmth. Then, he stood, stretching his arms over his head, and smoothed out the creases in his pants and what was now his oversized purple hoodie. “Someday,” he mumbled to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning back in the direction of the bazaar. “Just...not yet.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fifth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the second of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, as I mentioned in the top notes, day seven is a sequel to this one, so look out for it! This is the second-longest fic of all my Klapollo Week fics, and for good reason - I could've easily included an endless number of random conversations and made this fic twice as long if it weren't for the posting deadline. One of my favorite things about writing Klapollo is their back-and-forth, so I love writing fics where they simply just...talk, and hang out. And I know it's definitely a concept that's been done before, but someday, I wanna write my own version of "Klavier visits Apollo in Khura'in and they fall (more) in love". That might end up being my longest Klapollo fic yet 😜

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[ijustwant2write]

You'll Outlive Her-Thorin Oakenshield x Reader x Company

(GIF credit to @riepu10​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘hiii. a thorin x the company x fem!reader (21 years old). the reader tells the company about humans’ short life span (75-85 years old) and they freak out telling her they’re going to protect her and all that. very fluffy please & thank you!!’

Characters: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (platonic), Bilbo Baggins x Reader (platonic), all of the company x Reader (platonic), Gandalf x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of death, but a majority is fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) could feel how sore her body was as the company continued riding, having done so for a whole day already. They had travelled far today, making good process. She had never imagined herself on a quest such as this, especially with dwarves. Although she was a human, (Y/N) had been surprisingly welcomed to the company, but not without slight disdain from Thorin; she could understand his feelings, she was not of their kind, she didn’t know what it was like to lose a home like that. Gandalf had recruited her (and she was a vast contrast to Bilbo) because of her skills in fighting, and the fact that her family had been nomads helped with journeys such as this.

The dwarves were kind to her. There had been no prejudice against her being a woman, and she had learnt that a lot of their women were fierce like her, it was a dwarfish custom. It was easy to joke with them, there had been banter amongst the group about Bilbo when he joined, and once he loosened up, he could be fun at times too. Naturally, the other thing that separated (Y/N) from the company (excluding Gandalf), was her height. (Y/N) wasn’t a tall girl per say, but the men were all smaller than her, giving (Y/N) the upper hand when they started teasing her about something; it always shut them up.

“I spy with my little eye...” Ori called out, followed by a round of groans from everyone else.

“Do you not tire of this game?” Bofur moaned.

“There’s nothing else to do!”

“We’re on a quest lad, what did you think we would be doing?”

“Go on, Ori,” (Y/N) smirked, knowing that it would annoy everyone else,“what do you see?”

“OK, I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...G!”

“Is it grass?”

When he didn’t reply, she looked back over my shoulder, giggling when she saw his head hanging low.“Don’t worry Ori, there’s not a lot to spot out here.”

Ori smiled slightly, mesmerised by (Y/N)’s own smile before she faced the front again. Dori noticed his brother’s blushing cheeks, leaning over as much as he could whilst staying on his pony.

“Stop that! She’s a human, you’re a dwarf.” he simply said.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything!” Ori defended himself.

The sounds around them were peaceful, it brought tranquility to their minds. They were riding through a forest, the gentle wind making the leaves above them rustle, the occasional chirping of birds joined, and the horses hooves were muffled against the worn out path they were riding on. Despite the company being relatively calm, (Y/N) noticed Bilbo’s expression, and how silent he had been. 

“Are you alright, Bilbo?” (Y/N) asked, her voice quieter.

“Hm?” he had been broken out of a trance.“Oh, um, yes, yes, um, I’m fine.”

She sadly smiled at him.“You’re missing home, aren’t you?”

He sighed.“A little. It would have been the easy choice to stay at home and carry on doing the same thing everyday. But something made me choose to accompany Thorin on his quest. And I hope I made the right choice.”

“You’ll figure that out for yourself, soon enough.”

“We need to find somewhere to sleep for the night.” Thorin announced.“Everyone be on the lookout for a good place to shelter.”

Once they had found a safe enough place to stay, the company began dismounting their ponies/horses, and setting up their camp. Food was being prepared, makeshift beds were being made, and those sent out to patrol the area had already left. They were situated in a tiny clearing in the woods, with enough trees and bushes to conceal them. The fire was lit, and everyone instinctively huddled closer, feeling the chill that the evening brought as the sun set. 

(Y/N) thanked Nori as he handed her a bowl of stew, and she sat on her bed, pulling a blanket tighter around her. The bowl provided more heat to her cold hands, the smell of food causing her stomach to rumble loudly. As she ate, she glanced around, smiling at the sight. These men were so determined to complete this quest, it made her feel motivated to help them. She thought back to one of the first nights they all had together, when Balin had recited the story of how the leader of the company became Thorin Oakenshield. (Y/N) had never met someone with a royal background, but had heard that they were snobs, and turned up their nose at anyone they deemed less than them. Despite Thorin’s first impression, (Y/N) had a feeling it wasn’t him. For someone to be like that, they would have had to have gone through something traumatic; she knew his story now, and it made him seem stronger, powerful, a true leader.

“Where’s Thorin?” (Y/N) asked Bombur who was sat beside her.

He shrugged before diving into his bowl. She scoffed a laugh, shaking her head as she finished off her own meal. Her eyes scanned around the camp, subconsciously counting the dwarves, making sure they were all there. Fili and Kili had just come back from patrol, almost racing towards the food as they reported that they hadn’t seen anything. (Y/N) almost wanted to ask if they knew where Thorin was, but didn’t.

“You know what,” Bofur said, getting everyone’s attention,“we still don’t know that much about you (Y/N).”

“Well, I suppose I have heard everything I can about all of you. What is it that you wish to know?”

“Where were you born? What were you like growing up? Why did you like to fight?”

(Y/N) laughed as he continued asking questions.“You know, come to think of it, I’ve lived a pretty simple life up until now.”

“A simple life? Really?” Balin said.

“Yes. I actually don’t know where I was born. My family never stayed in one place, they were completely free spirits, and when mother gave birth to me, we were travelling in the back of a caravan, with my father helping her, and my auntie and uncle riding up front. So they never really knew where we were when I was born."

There were a few chuckles from the group. She grinned and continued.

"All my family taught me how to fight, each of them with a specific skill. They said it was to keep me safe, that if we all knew how to fight, we could defend each other. Not that anything actually happened."

"Have you ever been in a fight?" Kili asked.

"Yes, a few times, but I was never the one to start them. I was always looking out for someone."

"That seems very like you lass." Bofur added.

"Although I was travelling, I haven't seen a lot in my life. We circled sometimes, meeting up with old friends. But as I myself grew older, I noticed how my parents didn't want to move as much. They rested more frequently. And I realised that I was the one in my prime, I was the one who had to be the leader. And I guess...I guess when I became the only one left of my family, I seeked new adventures. Something that would make them proud."

"How old were they? When they died?" Bilbo was careful how he said it.

"Hm, they all must have been in their eighties. I think father reached ninety-four actually!"

Everyone's eyes were wide, mouths agape as they stared at her. She felt uncomfortable with the attention, wondering why they all looked so shocked.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You poor thing." Nori breathed out.

"Th-thank you?"

"Losing your parents at such a young age...If you don't mind me asking, was it natural or...?" Dori said.

"Yes, it was natural. They were healthy for the most age. Old age caught up to them. Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

"My dear friends," Gandalf spoke up, smoking from his pipe,"you must understand that unfortunately humans have a much shorter lifespan that dwarves do."

"So, how old do you live to?" Fili asked.

(Y/N) thought for a moment."Usually eighty to ninety years old if you're healthy. I have heard of some people miraculously living to the age of one hundred!"

The company shared a concerned look with each other, worrying (Y/N). Why was this such a big deal?

"Do you know how long dwarves live for?" Thorin suddenly appeared, making everyone whip their heads towards him.

(Y/N) nodded."You can live up to two hundred and fifty years old, sometimes older."

"Doesn't that frighten you?" Ori asked.

"Well, no. It's just how life works. I suppose it would be great to live for that long, but at the same time, you age the same as I, though in different ways...that made more sense in my head." she quickly laughed, though no one else joined.

"And...how old are you now?" Kili's voice was quieter.

"I'm twenty-one."

"Twnety one?!" multiple people exclaimed, fussing over how young (Y/N) was.

Her head was running wild, trying to take everything in. They were all asking her so many questions, some she could not answer. She spotted Bilbo attempting to calm them down, but he was too quiet.

"Let me put this into perspective, for all of you!" Gandalf snapped, causing silence."Dwarves are thought to reach maturity at the age of forty, for humans that is twenty. They live the same lives as many of us, just in a shorter time, which is why they always seem to be in a rush with everything."

"You need to be more careful lass." Dwalin announced.

"Yes, we really should be taking better care of you." Bofur agreed.

"I'll protect you (Y/N), I'm not scared!" Ori puffed out his chest.

This was followed by everyone's proclaimations of chivalry, all protesting over what they could do to make her feel safer. Instead of being offended or made to feel weak, she felt loved. She hadn't had many friends since her family died, and had been apprehensive to join a group of strangers. All of this was just too much, it was an emotional moment.

"You don't all have to worry about me. You know I can handle things myself." (Y/N) gushed.

"Doesn't mean you have to." Thorin said, though there was no warm expression on his face."Don't think you have to prove yourself and get you or someone else killed."

He slumped off after he spoke, leaving the company in silence once again. The conversation slowly built back up, the attention still on (Y/N), but Bilbo saw how she was getting upset. Gandalf smiled to himself as he watched the hobbit steer the topic of conversation away from her, glad to have someone with a level head.

Elsewhere, Thorin was leaning against a tree, his hands on his sword as a precaution. He heard footsteps, slow and heavy ones, and he only had to peak his head around the tree to spot Balin. The older dwarf sadly smiled, placing a hand on a tree to steady himself.

"You know, it's not wise to storm off by yourself." Balin half joked.

"I did not storm off."

"I think others might say different Thorin."

Thorin didn't reply.

"They might see it as your usual self. But I can see that look in your eye."

"And what look would that be?"

"You will deny it as soon as I speak it."

"I promise, I shall listen."

Balin raised an eyebrow at him, sighing before he spoke."You have grown fond of the girl. She's a fighter, she's kind and she's smart; (Y/N) didn't come on this quest for her own glory, she came to help us return home."

Thorin did stay silent, because he knew that Balin was right.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can't let yourself fall for her. For one, you cannot be distracted whilst on this quest, two, she is a human and three...well, being a dwarf, you'll easily outlive her. We all will unfortunately."

"I won't."

"What?"

"I won't fall for her. I haven't been falling for her in the first place."

Balin knew this was the response he would receive. Even though Thorin was denying it, Balin could tell that in his head, he was still thinking about her. And that was a problem.

"You've been through enough pain Thorin. Don't bring more onto yourself." Balin left him with that, making his way back to the camp.

Although Thorin had removed himself from the camp to also remove a certain girl from his thoughts. They weren't sexual, or anything to do with love. He cared for her like a younger sister. Of course, he had been taken back by his beauty (dwarvish women could almost be mistaken for the men), but that wasn't important to him at the time. What Balin said about her was true. She was a selfless human, which was more than he could say about the rest of her kind. He hadn't known how short their lives were, and he wondered why she had chosen to live hers like this, with them. She could be exploring new places by herself, with no one to stop her. Perhaps she would meet another traveller on the way and fall in love, start her own family and move around the world just as her parents did. Though he wouldn't gain any answers like this, he wanted to ensure that she survived this journey, that she was there forbthe glory. She deserved as much as the dwarves this, and with that thought, he solemnly sweared to keep her alive.

[juniorgman187]

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 2

Summary: After doing an even deeper dive on Valerie’s past, Spencer finally meets her, but his invasiveness isn’t the worst part ... the worst part is he might actually like her. 

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier  (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing) Category: Series, Fluff, Soft Angst, Eventual smut and *NSFW content Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC - Valerie Content Warning: invasion of privacy, allusions to Maeve’s death, arrhythmia Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 |

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

After firmly deciding not to weave Penelope into my tangled web, I was met with the arduous burden of conducting my own research. 

Firstly, I would need a computer - yeah ... a computer. That’s how far I was willing to go for this pursuit. I once vowed never to fall victim to modern technology’s clutches, and yet here I was, doing my research on a public library’s computer. To my credit, I hadn’t gone out and bought one, I was merely using my resources.

With the need for a device out of the way, all that was left was the knowledge of what to look for. But that didn’t pose a problem either.

Funny enough, with as many rules and restrictions as there are regarding patient privacy and confidentiality, all it took was matching dates of news stories with hospital records to complete my research. I was fairly certain I was only scratching the surface of information about Valerie as opposed to the sea of things I could’ve uncovered if I asked for Garcia’s help, but there are only so many lines a person can cross in one week. 

This was my limit.

Call me naive, but I was actually quite surprised with just how expansive the internet is. To an almost relentless degree, I would open an article and it would lead me to ten more about the same topic. It was this never ending rabbit hole that seemed to spiral on forever. I kept digging deeper and deeper until I could no longer dig. 

I’d officially hit rock bottom. 

It took me a grand total of just two hours to unearth all the ‘dirt’ I could on a young Valerie Bishop. 

Local 16-year-old Wins Nevada’s Statewide Art Contest! Published by Henderson Press. 

Valerie, just a sophomore in high school at the time, was donning what any experimental teen girl would’ve worn in the early 2000s - bootcut jeans and a sequin blouse over top of a plain camisole. And if I zoomed in close enough, I could spot the evidence of a sparkly blue shadow coating her eyelids. Surprisingly, though, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. 

It was that smile. That tooth-achingly sweet smile. 

Though I never got the chance to see Maeve truly smile, that’s what I imagined it would look like. 

The photographer must’ve caught her midway through a laugh, at least that’s what the image of her slightly open-mouthed grin told me. Meanwhile, her two tiny hands were clenching her overbearingly large trophy while her artwork stood behind her as the background.

It didn’t take me long to figure out why her painting won. Simply put, there was no need to see anyone else’s art to know that they couldn’t possibly compete with hers. 

Hers was an abstract rendition of what I believe to be a forest of some sort. The detail is what I was most drawn to. It would’ve been unbelievable on its own but the fact that she was 16 when she painted it? That’s what was unbelievable to me. 

If that’s how talented she was at that age, I could only imagine how much more talented she became with time. However, I lost the chance to investigate the current state of her skill before a related article from The Cleveland Gazette about Valerie succeeded this one. 

From Award-Winning Artist to Henderson’s Hero

Read my interview with 17-year-old Valerie Bishop to find out more about her struggle with arrhythmia and how she turned her pain into a project! 

By Kelli Gallagher from the Cleveland Gazette. 

Gallagher: Thank you so much for letting me interview you, Valerie. 

Bishop: Of course! I’m happy to. 

Gallagher: You’ve become somewhat of a hero in Henderson, Nevada, haven’t you?

Bishop: I wouldn’t call myself a hero ... but if everyone else wants to - I’m fine with that. (laughs)

Gallagher: Don’t be so modest! I mean, what you’ve done is so incredible, and you’re only what? Seventeen?

Bishop: Yes, ma’am. I just turned seventeen this past August. 

Gallagher: Wow, I can’t believe how young you are and yet you’ve already accomplished so much. I saw that you won a statewide art contest last year. Tell me more about that. 

Bishop: That’s a funny story actually. My Grandma Sheila was the one who entered me in that contest. I didn’t even know about it until I won it. She’s always surprising me, though. In fact, she’s the one that surprised me with my first ever art supplies, when I was about eight or so. They were these super expensive oil paints, and I knew she couldn’t afford them, so I told her we should return them and get something cheaper, but she said, “Nonsense. When the bones are good the rest don’t matter. A house don’t fall when the bones are good.” That was kind of her saying. 

A house don’t fall when the bones are good. 

The bones. 

Gallagher: I’m interested to know more about your relationship with your grandma. If I’m remembering correctly, she was also diagnosed with arrhythmia a while back too, right?

Bishop: Yes, she was, but that’s never slowed her down. And as for our relationship, my grandma and I have always been close, but arrhythmia, in a weird way, has brought us even closer. She has always been my biggest supporter and the fact that we’re both on this journey together makes her my biggest supporter even more so. 

Gallagher: Absolutely. Now, I also heard that you’ve started a fundraising program to possibly start a gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. If you don’t mind me asking, why Virginia Beach? Is there any special significance? 

Bishop: Actually, that’s where my grandma met my grandpa, and they got married and started a family there, too. So if Grandma Sheila hadn’t been there to meet him, she wouldn’t have had my mom, and that would mean I wouldn’t have been here either. I like to think Virginia Beach is where it all started. In a way, it’s where my bones are. That solid foundation in Virginia gave me everything I have today.

Gallagher: That is just incredible. I’m so glad to see your fundraising project is thriving, but I can’t imagine any of this has been particularly easy for you. You were diagnosed right around the time your senior year was starting right?

Bishop: Yes ma’am. 

Gallagher: So what brought you from Henderson to Cleveland?

Bishop: Well, actually, I didn’t want to move, especially not before I graduated, but Cleveland has the best cardiovascular hospital in the country and my health is far more important than graduating in the same state I grew up in. So when my parents were willing to move me and my sister out here, I saw it as a privilege rather than something to be sad about. 

Gallagher: I am so inspired by you, Valerie.

Bishop: (laughs) Really, why?

Gallagher: Despite everything that’d been thrown at you, you are still so grateful. I hope you never lose that. 

Bishop: I promise you I won’t.

Gallagher: So one last thing before I go, what is one hope you have for your future self?

Bishop: I hope, future self, that your ‘bones’ are still strong.

Gallagher: Beautiful. Thank you so much again for doing this, Valerie. I sincerely hope you reach your goal and you get to open up that gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. 

At the bottom of the article, there was a footnote from Kelli Gallagher. 

Exactly 10 years later, Bishop was able to move to Virginia Beach and open up her gallery and studio. 

By the end of the article, I felt a genuine sense of pride for Valerie, and I know I had virtually no right to know these things about her, but I could still be proud of her for them right?

I would never fully get my answer to this question before I crossed the final boundary. 

After exhausting all that I could gather from the internet without Penelope’s assistance, the only thing left for me to do was actually meet her in person. However, this would prove to be a bigger obstacle that it seemed. I decided to delay the daunting task until the next day. A decision partially influenced by the phrase, ‘sleep on it.’ I prayed I’d gain clarity on what to do when I woke up the next morning, but even with a night’s rest, I was still undecided as I drove to Virginia Beach once more.

To sit in my car that was conveniently parked right in front of the gallery was a poor choice. Because with every passing second, the temptation to walk in grew, but the fear of regret dampened those impulses. The more I thought about it, the more I psyched myself out. Between my two choices, to freeze or to fight, I should’ve taken the third - to flee. But I was here now and I couldn’t leave empty-handed for a second time. 

After a moment’s indecision, adrenaline coursed through my veins to give me the courage to get out of my car. When I felt an outdoor breeze blow over me, I knew there was no going back now. Right when I walked in, the little bell above the door rang, solidifying that I was officially crossing the threshold, and whether I liked it or not, she was going to see me after hearing me walk in.

“I’ll be right with you!” A small voice called out from somewhere in the back. She was hidden from my immediate sight, and somehow that made it so much worse. It was now I that was waiting for her, instead of her unknowingly waiting for me. 

As though I were prey getting ready to escape a predator, I stayed put by the door. It gave me a full view of the entire place anyway. 

Scoping out my surroundings, I spotted the paintings that were carefully measured and placed on the walls, almost to perfection. I had no time to notice anything more before the person in the back walked out. 

Immediately when I saw her, I knew.

“You’re … not Valerie.” I couldn’t help sounding so disappointed but luckily, the woman that came out took no offense to my observation. 

“No, I’m not,” She laughed. “But I can get her for you-”

“No wait!” I uselessly leapt forward to stop her from saying, “Vee! There’s someone out here to see you!” But that’s precisely what she did anyway. Evidently oblivious of my previous protests, she politely smiled back at me. “She’ll be right out.” 

For the second time that day, I waited with bated breath, anxiously anticipating the arrival of Valerie. And I was almost too focused on subduing the pounding of my heart to realize that she was actually walking out of the back right now. 

“Hi, sorry about that!” A new voice chirped. 

Valerie. 

The moment I laid eyes on her, it became clear to me that the pictures in her files hardly did her justice. Nothing could compare to the real sight of her. I was only able to catch the profile of her face when I saw her in the cafe, but in her entirety, I began to wax nostalgic. Though her face and hair and body had transformed into that of a grown woman’s features, I could still identify the same tooth-achingly sweet smile that a younger Valerie once wore on the front page of the Henderson Press. She was no beast to conquer, she was just a girl, smiling at me in that same gentle way. 

Her expression just as well showed no indication of recognition, not that she would recognize me, considering my letter was anonymous and unless she pulled the same stunt I did, she wouldn’t ever recognize who I was. 

“I’m Val,” She made her greeting to me while untying her dirtied waist apron, and it was merely the action that caused my gaze to fall to her hips, but when she shed the apron, I was still staring. There was something sort of mesmerizing about the way they swayed as she approached. It wasn’t until they stopped swaying completely that I realized they did so because there was no more distance to advance - she was already right there in front of me, patiently watching me stare. 

“Val?” I blinked hard to revert my gaze while also playing into the part that I had no idea who she was. 

“Mhm. Short for Valerie,” She confirmed happily. “Like the Amy Winehouse song.” 

This time, I genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to, and my confused countenance prompted her to clarify, “You don’t know that song?” 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she began to playfully sing, “Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water ...” 

While she watched my face and waited for the recitation of the song to jog my memory, I was just as much studying her face. I could tell she was only kidding when she sang, evidenced by the laugh that followed her rendition, but it sounded so unironically good that I had to question what other talents she possessed. 

“Um, I was actually thinking more like Valerie, the martyred medieval saint, whose name stood for strength and health.” No sooner than the words spilled from my mouth did I recognize the freudian slip - the simultaneous coincidence and confession. The coincidence was that, now, with Maeve’s heart beating in her chest, she lived up to her name - she was newly strong and healthy. But I worried, she would see the correlation I drew between her name and her successful transplant and would realize that I knew more about her than I let on. Did I just give away too much?

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier. What was it?” Her casual dismissiveness of my previous statement did nothing to ease my worries. Was she beginning to piece everything together?

“Oh, right!” I said dumbly. “S-Spencer. I’m Spencer.” I was such a blubbering bundle of nerves that I actually reached out to shake her hand - a stranger’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer,” She softly laughed, which was hopefully not out of the enjoyment of seeing me squirm. “What can I do for you?” 

A loaded question, don’t you think? What can you do for me, Valerie? Well, for one thing, you could’ve answered my letter, but to say something as bold as that would require me to admit the real reason I was here, and how could I do that without mentioning how I found you in the first place?

“Um ...” Whose birthday is the soonest? “My friend Emily’s birthday is coming up and I was wondering if I could possibly buy a painting from you as a birthday present.” 

There was the faintest perceptible skepticism in her expression, but that could’ve just been my paranoia talking because in the next breath, she didn’t suggest a proclivity to my deceit. “Yeah, of course! Do you know what her favorite medium is? Or her favorite artist? Or her favorite style of art?” 

For every addition to the question, I wordlessly shook my head no. Was my lie already unraveling? Could she see right through me?

“No worries. If you want, you can walk around the gallery and tell me if you see anything you think she’d like.” She made her offer to me sweetly, then disappeared into the back room again. I tried to follow her with my eyes for as long as I could, but from where I was standing, I couldn’t see very far into it. I wandered a little further into the center of the gallery to possibly catch a glimpse of what was occupying her time back there, but when I heard the chattering of two voices, Valerie and the other woman, coming from the same general direction, I realized I was completely alone in this part of the studio.

With no one around to bear witness but these portraits, I could’ve easily slipped out and made my escape, and I might’ve even done it had it not been for the unmistakable gravitational pull forcing me to stay here and walk about the room. 

Making my way throughout the gallery, I would pause every now and then when a painting would stand out to me, which was often, considering each picture was impressive. 

But there was one painting in particular that piqued my interest. It made me feel something I’d never felt before. 

It wasn’t special by any means. By rights, I shouldn’t have even noticed it, for it wasn’t the largest painting, nor the smallest one - it wasn’t even the most average painting. But it felt exceptionally ... Valerie. I had no doubt in my mind that she painted this one - in fact, I had a good bet that she painted most of these portraits, if not all of them - but this one. There was just something about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

“So,” A draft was created from where Valerie swiftly and unexpectedly joined me at my side. “What do you think?” 

“Um, there’s definitely something,” I struggled to find the word. “appealing about this one.” Almost as soon as the word came out of my mouth, I knew it was only a matter of time before she called out the inadequacy of my answer. 

“Appealing?” She repeated in mockery. “That’s the best you got? Come on, you’ve been standing here for like ten minutes. There must be something about it you like.” 

“I’m not sure.” I honestly admitted with a shrug.

“There’s no wrong answer.” She assured me, but I found that hard to believe. 

“So if I said I see a grizzly bear attacking a UFO, that wouldn’t be wrong?”

“Nope,” She popped the p. “If that’s how you interpret it then that’s how you interpret it. Just because someone else sees it differently, doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” It would’ve sounded like complete bullshit or nauseatingly cheesy coming out of someone else’s mouth, but her delivery felt so genuine. It actually moved me. 

As she said this, she turned her head in my direction to look up at me, causing her shoulder to brush my upper arm, sending a wave of goosebumps all over my body. 

She was so close. 

But I was so unbothered by her proximity that I didn’t even notice exactly how close she really was. If someone else had invaded my personal space like that, I would’ve moved in the opposite direction just on instinct, but I didn’t even think to do that with Valerie. I was so comfortable with her being there. 

But was that just because a part of her was once Maeve’s? Was the entire foundation of my likening to Valerie built upon that single attribute?

Was that my bones?

“Um,” I began fidgeting with my hands to self-soothe. “I like it. I don’t know why. But I like it. How’s that for an answer?”

There was a pause before her response that compelled me to look at her, but when I did so, she was already looking at me. “I’ll take it,” She nodded. “It’s the biggest compliment to me if my art can make you feel something.”

Was it the art that made me feel something ... or you?

“I’ll tell you what,” She walked over to grab something from the front desk. She came back with a small piece of cardstock. “I’m going to an art exhibition next weekend. Why don’t you come with me and see if you can’t find something for Emily there?”

She handed me the paper, which was actually her business card. “You don’t have to have an answer for me today, but call me when you do.” She seemed to think that was the end of the conversation, but I still had more questions. 

“You’re inviting me?” was the first question that came to mind, albeit the dumbest one.

“Yeah, you can be my plus one.”

I gulped to dislodge the lump in my throat. “Like-like your date?” 

She furrowed her brows with mild confusion. “Um ... sure, if that’s what you wanna call it,” which was the last thing she said to me before vanishing within the back room again. 

I peered back down at the card and tapped it gently on the palm on my hand as though to register its presence really being there. 

For all intents and purposes, this card was meaningless. But to me, it was the formal consenting - nay, invitation - to reach out to her again. She was willingly extending this line of contact to me. 

No more public library computers. No more files. No more ‘research.’ Just her number - a way to reach her without veering off my moral compass. 

Despite this, I still had no clue whether or not I was going to accept her offer.

All that I did know was that I wanted to see her again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 3 COMING SOON!

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[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 8: The Outside World

Chapter Summary: Jamie reflects during the aftermath of the fight, then they suit up and begin Claire's first trip into Inverness.

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Read Chapter 8 below the cut

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Chapter 8: The Outside World

***

Jamie Fraser hadn’t known that four simple words— “I don’t need you”— could possibly have torn into him with such vicious aim and rocked his whole world on such a scale. But that was before Claire. The consequence of loving her was that she held his heart in her wee palms, with all the power to shatter it with a single blow. 

He’d known it was a mistake to berate her over going outside. With a clear head, he never would have said those things to her. But after tearing apart the house, anxiety building and building along with the fear that he’d never see her again— and thinking that he’d be back to facing that empty void in his heart alone— his brain had gone straight out the window. 

So he couldn’t blame her for lashing out. He’d deserved it. He had wanted so desperately to protect her that he hadn’t looked at what he was doing to her. 

While sitting there on the couch, having collapsed into a trembling mess, he’d thought he’d mucked it all up. Until she’d taken his hands, his face— touching him with such affection... 

And given him a second chance. 

As he held her in his arms, clasping her to him as if she might suddenly change her mind and push him away, he vowed to himself that he’d use it well. 

Every time he’d held her, even in the mundane moments like sitting beside the space heater, that golden cloud that surrounded her— the warmth of her presence— had encompassed him as well. As he held her now, though, he noticed it seemed weaker. He pulled back a little to study her, furrowing his brow as the now familiar shimmering aura was less visible. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He shook his head, unsure. This was uncertain ground, and after going through what they just had, he didn’t want to tread on it. “Ach, it’s nothin’, dinna fash.” 

She seemed to accept it, laying her head down on his shoulder and letting out a sigh. His heart stuttered in its steady rhythm as he felt the gravity of her trust and the soul-stealing tenderness of her touch. 

He didn’t have the strength to even think about moving. He would simply wait until she was ready, letting her make the first move, and he would be grateful all the while for everything she was willing to give him. 

In the end, she’d wanted to be held for a long time. There wasn’t a clock around so Jamie couldn’t have said for sure how long, but the minutes passed in a comfortable but weighty silence— each of them enveloped in the other. When she finally stirred, it was to lift her head and give Jamie a brave smile. 

“You know, I told myself that today I would do everything I could to learn about the human world.” 

“Is that so?” he asked. Unable to resist the consuming urge to brush back the single curl that hung over her face, he lifted a hand and gently tucked it behind her ear before continuing, “did ye have anythin’ in mind?” 

She gave him a bit of a helpless look, accompanied by a self-conscious half smile, “I’d hoped maybe you would have some ideas about what we should do.” 

“Weel,” he gave her an assessing look, “seein’ as ye’re currently drownin’ in my clothes, I’m thinkin’ it wouldna be a bad idea tae go out and get ye some of yer own that fit properly. What do ye say, mo nighean donn, are ye ready for a trip to the human world?” 

***

It took Jamie a short while to get them ready to go. Since Claire didn’t have any shoes, Jamie had to track down something that could remotely protect her feet. Jamie was a big man, with feet to match, and Claire’s feet reflected her own dainty features— they were nearly half the size of his. He’d settled on a pair of old hiking boots, kneeling down in front of Claire and lacing them as tightly as he possibly could. But the moment she stood up and took a few exploratory steps, they flopped so terribly on her feet that she’d stumbled and nearly fallen against Jamie. He’d grabbed her by the arms, helped her upright, and then went back to the drawing board. 

He’d emerged again from his basement bearing sandals with adjustable straps. However, knowing her proclivity toward getting chilled, he’d first bundled her wee feet into two layers of socks before strapping her into the sandals. 

She was sitting at the kitchen table, patiently allowing him to prepare her shoes while he knelt on the ground in front of her and tried to make sure they were secure. 

As he straightened, he couldna help but laugh at the ridiculous nature of the situation— Claire sitting there, slightly swinging her sock-and-sandaled feet that he’d just dolled her up in. 

“I’m a right Prince Charming, it seems, but ye’re the strangest Cinderella I’ve ever seen,” he chuckled to himself. 

He was answered by a perplexed look. She was so lost that she didn’t even try to echo the words, just gave him big doe-eyes of confusion. 

That sent him laughing again. “Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, “jes’ a wee bit o’ human stuff. So… are ye ready tae face the outside world?” 

She gave a decisive nod, looking like she was steeling herself to face the guillotine, and stood up with surprising grace. 

Despite her elegant air and fierce determination, the situation only grew more ridiculous to Jamie as he took in the sight of her standing in all her splendor— his tee-shirt huge on her tiny frame, sweatpants pulled up nearly to her oxters and drawn tight (yet the hems still puddled on the ground), and with socks and sandals as the pièce de résistance. 

It was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Ye look verra bonny, Sassenach,” he stifled yet another laugh, his heart clenching with the force of his affection for her, “but I do think it’s a good thin’ we’re goin’ tae get ye yer own clothes.” 

Her lips quirked as she glanced down at herself and then up at him. 

“I take it this isn’t the typical outfit for human females?” she said, good-naturedly laughing at herself. 

Jamie shook his head. 

“I can assure ye it’s not. But we’ll fix ye up soon enough. Here,” he offered her his arm, “take my arm so ye dinna trip over yer pants.” 

She did, her wee hand slipping into the crook of his elbow and holding on to his bicep. 

With that, Prince Charming led his princess out to the waiting car. 

*

Claire seemed somewhat taken aback when they approached the vehicle and shot him a wary glance. Her hand tightened on his arm, making him stop short. 

“What… is it?” she asked timidly. 

“My car? Do ye no remember ridin’ in it when I took ye home from the stones?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I don’t remember much, it’s all pretty foggy. Other than you, of course,” she blessed him with another one of those mega-watt smiles. 

“Och, weel, ye were pretty ou’ of it, I cannae blame ye. This is a car. We get inside, and use it tae travel long distances quickly because it moves verra fast.” 

She nodded slightly, but still looked reluctant to go any nearer. Nevertheless, she drew herself up and set her shoulders with fierce determination. 

“I said I’d be brave today and I will be,” she announced firmly. 

“I’m proud of ye, a nighean,” he couldn’t help but say, “and I’ll be right by yer side the whole time. I promise, I willna let anythin’ happen to ye.” 

Much to his delight, that seemed to reassure her. She let go of his arm and walked decisively toward the car. He caught her up and slipped in front to open the door. With nothing more than a shaky inhale and a second of hesitation, she plunged in. 

He shut it behind her and quickly walked around to his side to slide in. Once he was settled, he looked over to her. 

“See, no’ sae bad, right?” 

She seemed to melt a little at that, relaxing back into the seat and nodding. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, “not so bad.” 

But in less than 30 seconds, she was eating her words. As soon as Jamie put the car in reverse and began backing out of the driveway, both of her hands shot out to scramble for purchase on the nearest available surface— one of which was the door, and the other Jamie’s arm. Surprisingly sharp wee nails dug crescents into his forearm, and he struggled to keep his hand in place. 

His first impulse was to stop. She was quite obviously panicking, chest heaving and eyes huge as she gripped him, but they needed to get this over with. Of course it’d be terrifying at first— she’d likely never moved faster than her own two feet could carry her— but he had full confidence that she’d grow used to it and settle soon enough. 

Once they were on the road, Jamie could spare a little more attention for her. She had mercifully  let go of his arm, and both of her hands were now gripping the dashboard in front of her, knuckles white. He let go of the steering wheel with one hand in order to reach out for her. Twining their fingers together, he glanced over and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, Sassenach,” he told her. 

She didn’t answer for a long moment. When he looked over at her again, she was white as a sheet and staring straight ahead. With a start, he realized that her hand seemed clammy in his. 

“Are ye alright, lass?” he asked in alarm. 

“I feel sick,” she forced out weakly. 

With the expertise of one familiar with motion-sickness, Jamie slammed on the brakes (thank God that the country roads were almost always completely abandoned), grabbed a grocery bag he’d left in the back seat, and shoved it underneath her. 

Her head bowed over it, a curtain of curls falling over her face, and her chest heaved with shaky breaths. But she made no indication that she was about to be sick. 

Of course she wouldn’t throw up, he realized all of a sudden, she didn’t eat. 

Still, it was a good thing he had stopped. Although she wasn’t in danger of losing her lunch, she looked as if she was on the verge of passing out. The puir lass was paler than a ghost. 

Jamie quickly dropped the bag and instead moved his hand to rub soothing circles on her back. 

“Ye’re alright, a leannan,” he told her gently, “puir wee thing. I ken the motion is somethin’ awful.” 

She let out a tiny whimper that broke his heart and made him ready to abandon this foul machine on the side of the road, walk her home, and never return for it. 

Instead of taking hasty action against his car, though, he grabbed his water bottle from the cupholder, poured a bit of water into a cupped hand, and dribbled it over the back of her neck. Then, he gently pressed his wet hand at various spots around her neck and up onto her cheeks. 

“Ye’re doin’ great, mo nighean donn, deep breaths,” he encouraged, his other hand continuing the circles it was making on her back. 

“I’m alright,” she mustered. She managed to raise her head and give him a tremulous smile. To his relief, color had begun to return to her cheeks, and she no longer seemed to be in danger of passing out. 

“Good,” he murmured, “why dinna we take a break and walk about outside for a minute, aye?” 

She shook her head doggedly. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Christ, ye are brave,” he chuckled, “ye sure?”

She gave him a nod of assent, and then sat back in her seat, looking like an astronaut waiting for lift off. 

He stifled the urge to ask her again if she was certain. While they could turn around and leave shopping for another day, she’d have to face the reality of cars eventually if she was going to stay in the human world. So, they would continue on their way— even if her suffering was driving a hole in his heart and he wasn’t sure he could live with the knowledge that it was him doing it to her. 

Jamie accelerated very slowly and tried to minimize as many bumps and jostles as he could on a road of this condition. Claire seemed much better this time around, hands clasped together in her lap instead of clutching the dashboard (although her knuckles were still white, he noticed). 

After a few minutes, she even managed to relax a bit. Since she seemed to be doing alright, Jamie took the rest of the drive to Inverness to explain to her what to expect: what stores were, what they would be looking for, etc. Claire didn’t take her eyes off of the road in front of them but gave him a few nods and hums of understanding. 

The little thrift shop he had in mind was in a pedestrian-only part of Inverness, so he parked at the nearest parking lot and steeled himself for the trial of taking Claire through the town. He had every confidence in her ability to handle it, but that still didn’t reduce his desire for her to be a wee cheetie he could tuck inside his coat. 

The second the car was parked, a sigh of relief came from the passenger side. 

“Ye made it, Sassenach,” he congratulated her, turning to her and reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. 

He had meant it to be a quick motion, but she caught his hand and held it on her lap. He could feel a slight tremor in it, and his heart went out to her. 

“I ken it’s scary,” he said softly, “but it’ll be alright. We humans arena so bad, ye’ll see.” 

“If they’re anything like you, I think I’ll love them,” she breathed. 

The words twisted his wame into a mushy mess. Oh lord, did she even know what using the word “love” in relation to him did to his puir heart? 

But he shoved his wayward reaction aside and focused his attention on the brave wee lass getting ready to face her fears. 

“I’ll be right wi’ ye,” he assured, “the whole time.” 

She gave a wordless nod, but still didn’t release his hand from her shaky one. 

“Are ye ready, mo nighean donn?” 

The term of endearment perched on his tongue and in his mind had actually been “mo ghraidh,” but he managed to choke that one off before it left his lips. 

“As I’ll ever be,” she said tremulously, but put on a brave face. 

With one last squeeze, he reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers so he could get out. He quickly made his way around the car to the passenger’s side so he could open her door and offer his hand to her again. 

She took it, squinting out into the daylight, and with that, Sorcha emerged out of the car and into her first experience with the real human world.

***

Next

[borhap-au]

Ben!Roger smut - a fight.

Roger generally claimed you as his girl, but the relationship could be called an open one. You knew that he’s been flirting with other girls, his groupies, when he was on tour and it was making you furious. You wanted to finally “close” just the two of you in the relationship, without other parties being involved, and with Roger being committed to you. What you didn’t know was that Roger’s childhood trauma caused him to be scared of commitment. His abusive father never taught him a proper behavior towards women, therefore he always went about by what he saw his friends doing, and they really did take the “sex, drugs and rock n’ roll” motto to extremes. He has also never met anyone who he wanted to be faithful to, and for that reason it was easy for him to cheat on his partners. That was, of course, until he met you. And man, you scared the hell out of him. He never felt such strong feelings towards anyone, never before has he experienced the butterflies in his stomach. You were everything he ever wanted, and because of that, he was scared to lose you. So, naturally, he tried to prevent you from walking away… by pushing you away. In the childish way guys tend to operate, he wanted to show you he doesn’t need you, because he doesn’t depend on you, and yet somehow he felt empty and unhappy whenever you weren’t around. He wanted to appear as the dominant figure in the relationship, the one who cares less, therefore can’t be hurt. He wasn’t hiding the fact he talked to other girls, he wanted you to be jealous, because then he felt you still cared for him. It was weird and he himself couldn’t explain it. His behavior sometimes brought to mind that of a small boy. He was mean to the girl he liked because he didn’t know how to cope with his feelings otherwise.

You were trying to bear with him for the whole time, but you finally had enough. However, you didn’t plan to break up with him, you were too big of a sucker for him to just do that and let him go. You planned something else, that was, for him to taste his own medicine.

You attended one of his concert in London, and naturally they let you come backstage without any questions, because even the crew knew you very well. You brought a friend – a guy you were never into, but Roger didn’t like when he was around you, because he was good-looking. What Roger didn’t know though was that your friend was never into you either, and you knew that for a fact. It was actually very simple – your friend was gay. However, he came out only to a few people and you weren’t the one to mistreat his trust by telling your boyfriend his secret. And now you were actually very happy that Roger didn’t know.

You were giggling, dancing with him, and touching him throughout the entire concert. Either your hand landed on his chest, or you rested your head on his shoulder, but something always had to be going on, whenever Roger looked at you two. And indeed, he did that a lot. Roger noticed you in a break between his second and third song, or more so, he heard you. You were laughing so loud he immediately knew it was you, but he stopped smiling the moment he saw who was standing next to you.

When it comes to your friend, he naturally noticed your friendly behavior, but it didn’t bother him. He liked being close with his friends, and because you often told him how you felt about Roger, he immediately realized what you were doing. It was actually quite funny to him, and he was happy to help, because he knew how many times Roger has hurt you.

Roger walked off stage completely pissed. He didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone, because he was ashamed of his vulnerability, but everybody noticed how he walked past you without saying a word. After the concert there was an after party, and everyone attended, but Roger soon vanished. He was too annoyed to pretend he’s having fun. You followed your boyfriend back to his room.

“What are you even doing here? Go, have fun with your boy,” he muttered, not even looking in your direction. You closed the door behind you as you walked into the room, not willing to give up so easily.

“My boy? I don’t have a boy, Roger, unless you like to call yourself that,” you smiled a little ironically, as you didn’t appreciate the accusation he was throwing at you, especially since he wasn’t a saint. You really doubted he knew what ‘committed relationship’ even meant.

“I saw you back there, so no need to play games now,” you smiled under your breath, because your little game actually worked. Not that you thought Roger wouldn’t fall for it. It was his style to act before he thought things through. He was fast to judge.

“Wow, that must suck… Seeing your partner getting friendly with other people. How can someone do something so hurtful to a person they claim they care for? I have no idea,” your sarcastic tone immediately made Roger realize you were actually talking about him and his behavior towards you. He rolled his eyes, because he felt like a victim this time and he wasn’t planning to let you take the main focus off that matter by bringing up his past.

“As I noticed, you don’t seem like you mind that kind of behavior at all. You actually seemed to enjoy doing the same. So before you judge me, look at yourself,” oh, those were exactly the words you wanted to tell him. You were really done dealing with his childish and egoistic behavior, but at the same time you knew Roger wasn’t himself when he was mad. He’s done and said things he deeply regretted later, he even admitted it to you a few times. You wanted to believe deep inside he knew how much of all of this was his own fault.

“Oh, I look at myself. And not only that, I have men looking at me too. And enjoying what they see. So maybe better realize your mistakes before it’s too late,” you were actually quite proud of how eloquently you stated your mind, without calling Roger ‘less than a man’ or something similar to that just out of anger. Apparently you were much better at arguing than him, even though it felt like getting angry was his favorite hobby.

“Oh, that’s what it is about? They look at you more than I do? You feel like I’m neglecting you? Poor you, really, what a shame,” oh, you were getting more and more angry at your ignorant boyfriend. He was just never the one to admit his mistakes, but man, you knew you were perfect for each other. Of course, after Roger grows up.

“They just know better how to take care of a woman. Maybe you could actually learn something from them. Want their numbers? They could give you some tips,” oh, yes, you went there. Up ‘till this point Roger was walking around the room, but then he looked at you and you knew it finally hit home with him. He raised his brow in disbelief, not quite wanting to acknowledge you actually just said that to him.

“I don’t know how to take care of a woman? I?” he was surprisingly calm for someone in that situation, but it was only temporary. Just seconds later he came in your direction and pinned your body against the wall. Oh, you were so trying to hide a smirk. Not only did you achieve your goal, but also you were about to have crazy sex with Roger. He was an unbelievably good lover when he was driven by anger. Before you were able to respond, he added: “I will show you what a real man feels like.”

Your mind was screaming “yes, yes, yes!” as he started kissing your lips with anger, passion, and hunger typical for lovers who were apart for a very long time. You immediately responded to his kisses, as your impatient hands wandered under his shirt. He was very close to you, leaning his body on yours. Roger moved his fingers through your hair and brought you even closer. You felt his tongue in your mouth and only then you realized how much you needed to feel him like this. His hands wandered lower, to your ass, as started squeezing your rear. He was definitely an ass-man, apart from the fact he was also an ass-hole from time to time.

You got bored of trying to reach higher and fighting with his shirt, so you took it off him fast. He didn’t wait much longer to get rid of your shirt either, and was quite happy not to find another obstacle on the way – your bra. He took you on his arms and rests you against the wall to have better access to your breasts and started sucking your nipple, while you tilted your head back and moved your hands through his hair. After your nipples were both hard, wet, and ready for more, he came back to kissing your lips. Your hands wandered on his chest, privileged that you were the only one allowed to touch him like that.

After some time, you reached your hands to his trousers and unzipped them, and he didn’t want to wait any longer, so he took them off along with his underwear. He basically let them just drop to the floor, without bothering to take them off completely. Then he put your skirt up and after having some troubles with trying to take your underwear off with one hand and holding you with the other, and your underwear mischievously rolling instead of actually cooperating with him (and you trying to fight laughter), he gave up and just decided to put the part of your underwear that was covering your pussy aside.

He jerked himself a few times, then moved the tip of his cock on your labia, also stroking your clit, as you were getting wetter, and he was getting harder. When you both reached the state when neither of you could stop yourself from touching the other, he slid himself into you, and started thrusting his hips hard. Your brain wanted to explode with the sensation, as passion and anger mingled inside of both of your bodies. He massaged your breast and pet your nipple, occasionally pinching it. He also kissed and sucked your neck, so you felt like he was taking care of every sphere and you were just there to enjoy the show. He was thrusting faster and rougher, pinning you against the wall.

He really used all of the tricks that he could use on you in that moment, just to prove you a point, but because you tricked him into doing it, you were the double winner in that situation. After some time, his hand slid lower from your breast, and not long time after landed on your clit. He made small circles with his thumb on your clit, to make the sensation stronger, and you moaned so loud you felt like the entire hotel will file complaints. His movements were an reflection of how mad he was, but with time, he started to be more gentle, and his lips kissed softly your neck, without making any hickeys anymore.

You felt orgasm building up and he felt that too, but he told you “not yet” without any explanation, and you breathed heavily looking at him, trying to stop yourself from coming, and understanding what goal he had in prolonging it. Of course the purpose was only to be a little shit and not give you what you wanted just yet. He took you on his hands and went to the bathroom with you, then got in the shower with you. He then let you come, but not without letting you know it wasn’t the last one for tonight. He came outside of you, as he wasn’t wearing a condom.

He turn on a barely warm water, so you both could cool yourselves down, and when he was getting ready for the action again, he made you stand against the wall in a shower, with water running down your body, finally getting rid of your skirt and underwear. Then he started to lick your pussy, gently suck on your clit, move his finger between your labia and do everything that could be done to make you soft, wet, and ready for the action again, while you were still recovering from your last orgasm, barely being able to stand.

When he slid two fingers in you, you knew he was really ready to use every single one of this tricks that night. He moved his fingers fast, while his thumb was stroking your clit, building up your orgasm in a pace you weren’t able to do it yourself. After your second orgasm, he was ready for the action again, and made you stand with your hands on the wall, your back to him, and legs spread. Then he took you from behind, sliding into your pussy and thrusting hard, and at this point you wanted to call him all those names he liked to be called, establishing him as the dominant figure, but your mind wasn’t even able to create a sentence, as pleasure after pleasure was filling up your body. He had to hold you by your hips, so you stood exactly where he wanted you too, but you soon rested your head and elbows on the wall, grateful for how cold the wall was compared to your body temperature.

It wasn’t the last orgasm for the night, but you persuaded him to take it to the bedroom this time, so you could just lay down on the bed while he was taking care of you. After everything that happened that night, neither of you had any troubles falling asleep. In the morning you had a very tough conversation about establishing boundaries in your relationship. You both agreed to be committed and since you started to be, most of your problems disappeared, because a lot of them started with jealously. You fought a lot less, and with time, you started to become relationship goals. Roger finally opened up to you about his past, and you helped him to overcome his problems. Your relationship got rid of all of its toxicity, so you could move forward together and build each other up instead of tear each other down with every little thing. I guess sometimes one just has to fuck away the pain.

[mierinette]

chapter 03 - game night

see the thing you've been chasing, you'll never find it wearing a life vest. ​

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril​​

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

THE NEWS of Adrien’s apparent date with the new girl— no, that mermaid, spreads like wildfire.

(Not wildwater apparently, as Alya points out. Marinette has to scoff: how does wildfire make sense, then?)

In any case, it only takes a night and the morning after, before classes start, for the information to receive a certain group of students who are less than delighted over the news.

“Let’s just douse her with water as soon as she gets here,” someone whispers. “Can’t show up to date if she can’t even get up.”

A sudden whack on the forehead. “Ridiculous! She’ll have that guard girl of hers fixing that in a minute. Besides, she has all the time in the world to get ready after.”

“So what do you suggest, then?”

The girl smiles, a scheme already forming in her mind. “Leave it to me.”

(If it’s a game for Adrien’s heart, after all, Chloé Bourgeois and the Francois-Dupont Adrien Fanclub sure as hell aren’t losing.)

The look on Adrien’s face is nothing short of pure horror as they enter the restaurant’s interior.

Marinette is equally taken aback with the setting before her, before turning his way, offering a shrewd smile and the most dry tone-of-voice he’s ever heard. “Really? This is where you thought we’d have dinner?”

“I— uh,” he only manages to mumble, evidently panicked as they’re handed menus to browse through. Marinette flips through the pages, humming lightly to herself as she points at one of the picture. “Hey, I think he used to live at the coral reef near our place,” she starts. “Used to have dreams of travelling the world one day…,” she takes an excruciatingly-long second to take in her surroundings. “At least he got that part right.”

“I didn’t—!”

The aquariums grandly display all kinds of exotic fish and sea creatures, even reminding her of the aquadiversity back home. “The fishes are cute,” she only continues, swallowing down the amused smile that threatens to escape her as she watches her companion get increasingly more flustered. A sudden and loud chop! attracts their attention, as one of the chefs expertly cuts through one of the animal carcasses. “Desecrating the dead bodies of my family, not so much.”

“Your family?” He exhales, eyes widening at the revelation. “Marinette, you have to know that I— I never meant to—.”

“Yes,” she sighs, bowing her head down in apparent sorrow and respect. “Sebastian and Flounder… may they rest in peace.”

Adrien nods, immediately bowing down his head as well. “To Sebastian and Flou—,” he pauses, then narrows his eyes at her. “Wait.” 

At that, Marinette can’t quite stop the light laugh that escapes her lips, as his figure finally relaxes, looking at her in evident unamusement. “You know you deserved it,” she points out easily, before nodding to the waiter as they lead her to their table.

Adrien chases after her. “Okay, so you don’t mind the sushi?” He pauses, gesturing at the rows of sea animals before them, as he follows her pace. “Aren’t they your family or something?”

Marinette only rolls her eyes, before turning abruptly and pushing the menu to his chest. “Are all land mammals here related?” She points out, then grins. “Besides, what is it that you think mermaids eat?”

He opens his mouth to protest, pauses for a moment, then stops in his tracks. “You… have a point.”

(It’s only at that moment Marinette realizes the close proximity she has to her so-called date for the night, and immediately pushes back.)

“I know I do,” she only responds, a bit hastily taking a seat as they’re led to their table. “And you’re the one not making sense here. If you thought I hated sushi, then why would you bring me here?”

It’s a valid question, and Adrien’s eyebrows furrow as if even he’s not even sure of the answer.

“I’m confused myself,” he finally responds. “I was asking around for first date recommendations, and a friend suggested that I take you here. She said it was the perfect place for someone like you.” He pauses. “Well, I guess they know their mermaid lore more than I do.”

Marinette can’t quite stop the suspicion that crawls up her spine, but ushers it away. “Guess it worked perfectly, then?”

“Dolphinitely.”

(Somewhere in a far-off table, Chloé slams the menu on the table and stands to attack— blissfully unaware of the ‘CAUTION: WET’ sign upon the floor, and falling flat to the ground.

The tray of sushi soon follows, perfectly slipping over and falling atop her head. She bites back the need to scream.)

Marinette - 1, Fangirls - 0.

.

.

The attacks don’t stop throughout the night. They try to switch around the orders, mess with her meal, distract the waiters, get her wet (— There are literally aquariums everywhere. This shouldn’t be as hard as it is for them to complete.).

However, whatever they try to do, they fail spectacularly.

They’ve lost count of all the so-called activities and points that Marinette’s managed to win. They’re still at zero, even when their opponent has no idea that she’s even playing.

A formidable rival, they begrudgingly admit.

(Evidently, Marinette thinks something strange is going on. But she never has quite enough proof to make a scene for it.

.

.

It’s a Hail Mary when their dinner finishes, and the fangirls decide that there’s nothing more they can do.

Well, majority of them do.

As Adrien and Marinette walk down parking, Chloé Bourgeois sneakily runs indoors, aims, and throws a single water balloon in the air.

She shoots, she shoots, and it looks like she’s gonna make it…

Until surprisingly-quick reflexes result in the mermaid’s date immediately pushing her to hunch downwards, shielding her with his trenchcoat, and—

A human shield (or sacrifice, really— judging by the amount of water dripping off his clothes.)

The remains of the water balloon now on the floor, Adrien carefully moves from a protective stance to help Marinette up; and to the fangirls’ despair, completely ‘human’— legs and all. (They’re belatedly terrified in realizing that they just threw a balloon at their idol, and quickly scatter away as soon as they do.)

They escape, but the match is set:

Marinette wins.

(For this round, at least: as Chloé tells herself, this is nothing more than the beginning to all-out war.)

.

.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Adrien looks at the damage caused around him. Their college-mates have long since evacuated the scene, and all he’s really left with is the remains of a plain black balloon.

“What was that?” He finally asks, rubbing at his head in apparent shock. Marinette takes a handkerchief from her bag, then carefully wipes it across his face to help.

“Nothing new, at least,” she only says, rolling her eyes in evident irritation. “Didn’t expect them to follow me all the way here, though.” Marinette pauses, looking down at the bits of balloon on the floor, and slowly connects the dots for the strange events of that night.

Alya’s words (and warnings, really), from the previous day swim fresh in her mind: Ah. Fangirl club, then.

She looks at him unimpressed. “Dedicated fans you have.”

He looks absolutely clueless. “What do you mean?” Adrien asks, eyebrows knitting together. “You’re saying they stalked us here just to throw a single water balloon at you?”

“Not just the balloon,” Marinette corrects. “Everything else too. Didn’t you notice anything weird at dinner?”

“... I mean, I enjoyed it.”

“So did I,” she points out. “But something was fishy, right?”

When a flicker of recognition alights in her companion’s eyes at the pun, Marinette realizes exactly what she has to do.

She puts it in words he can understand. “All of this?” Marinette finally says, gesturing grandly with her hands. “This was no acseadent.”

Adrien looks like he’s holding on to her every word.

She pauses for dramatic effect (has no idea why, even), and stares him down. “This was… saboatage.”

He’d definitely be proud had the situation been any different. “You think my fans tried to ruin our date tonight?”

“No,” Marinette corrects again. “I know they did— tried, at least. You land mammals are so quick to act on your emotions.”

He hums thoughtfully, as the dots start to connect themselves in his head. “Ah, so this is the rebellion you didn’t want to start, huh?”

She shrugs. “I’d rather not incite the wrath of humans, thanks.”

“We are a pretty eelmotional bunch,” he agrees, before carefully taking hold of her hand through the handkerchief. “I hope tonight was worth it?”

Marinette pauses, looking from their hands to his expression. She tilts her head, as if in thought. The answer is clear to her, of course: and definitely to him, too.

“Too early to be sure,” she responds instead. “Whale see.”

(She can practically see his face glow whenever she puns.)

“And so we shell.”

[earthendandinbetween]

Man I can’t be trusted with anything dear god.🏃‍♂️

The hideout was abuzz with energy, high spirits and cheers from the current success over driving the Dark Heroes further out in the lands. The recent battle from the night before had proven to be a complete success for the worried tribes, and only proved further that things weren’t entirely hopeless. While the Dark Heroes schemed and nursed their wounds, the patapons and their zigoton allies celebrated for the day, a well earned section of rest.

Overall, morale and excitement was high for just about everyone. ...Except for one particular general whom had nestled himself in the still half finished infirmary.

“Would you get out of the infirmary already?” Spiderton hissed, tone low and full of frustration, “You’re not injured, I’m busy, leave!”

“I’m telling you! I think I’m sick,” The dekapon in question snapped back, trying to figure out what was so difficult about this to understand.

“...You’re sick in the head, maybe,” Came the murmured response from the kibaton, “But you’re not sick or hurt physically. You can leave now.”

“Ugh! You’re a horrible medic,” Kuwagattan hissed, rising to his feet to stomp off, “Fine! I’ll figure it out myself, but if I die it’s your fault Spiderton!”

“I’m not a medic, I’m a builder!” the zigoton general said in exasperation, “You absolute thick skulled moron, I can’t believe the audacity of you sometimes. You’ve been bothering me all morning and frankly-”

Whatever vitriolic ramble Spiderton was going on fell on deaf ears as the akumapon finally left out of the infirmary, grumbling to himself over whatever it was that was wrong with him. Did he catch a cold from the snowfields when they passed through on their way to fight the Dark Heroes? Maybe. He hadn’t had that issue before, so why now? Either way, he could deal with it. Just retrace the issues and find the root of the problem! He had colds before, this wouldn’t be any different.

So what was he doing when he first felt like...this? The dekapon tapped his chin as he started for his makeshift home by the barracks, racking his thoughts for where it all started. Early before the sun rose, he was certain of that, when they were still returning from the battle. Everyone was celebrating together, he was talking with the one person he could really stand in that group and---

The tateton had held his wrist and sincerely gushed about how proud he was of the akumapon.

That was nice...He had been thinking about that moment since it happened. Shaking his head, Kuwagattan returned to thinking with a hum. That wasn’t important right now, though there was this very low sneaking suspicion that he pushed away. Just a cold. Or exhaustion? Possibly the adrenaline was still high from returning. That could make sense with how he felt.

With a sigh, he stepped into his little home, opting to just lay back and stare at the ceiling idly. A tell-tale squeak from under the nearby blanket alerted him that a certain babatto had decided to sneak in while he was away. He had gotten surprisingly used to her doing that, and when the creature scrambled over in excitement, he simply gave her a pat on the head.

“Who keeps letting you into my house?” He mumbled, though the tone was more soft than truly annoyed, “I’m kind of caught up with something right now, bat.”

Squeak.

“No! I don’t know what’s going on!”

The babatto clambered closer, headbutting Kuwagattan’s side with another soft chirp, her wide eye blinking once or twice as she tilted her head.

“No! I’m not soft, it’s not….it’s not that!” He shouted, bringing a hand to his overly warm face as he continued “I’ve never been that soft, never will!”

...He was talking to an animal. Who had no idea what he was talking about nor could even suggest or speak outside of squeaking for food or attention. What was he doing? 

The akumapon general sat up, groaning in frustration, muffling the sound with both hands this time.

“I’m talking to a babatto!” He hissed quietly, “Oh my god I’ve gone insane.”

With a sigh, he stopped denying the fact that this was not a fever, but a faint purple blush that had cropped up for the third time that day. He couldn’t let anyone see him like that.

Maybe he’d lay here and die instead! That could be a solution. Forget all about this weird feeling and just stay here forever. No one would mind, surely.

...They’d mind. He’d mind too.

It’d go away. He had never felt this before in the past, and it’d disappear by the next morning. Certainly.

What if it didn’t?

Kuwagattan kicked the wall he was laying beside, rolling back into a sitting position with his eye narrowed in complete frustration. He was tougher than any petty emotion, he shouldn’t have even given all this insanity a second thought. Yet here he was, letting all this get the best of him!

Pulling the babatto at arms-length, he decided to use her as a way of somewhat figuring out what to do himself. She couldn’t talk back or mock him, making her basically the best conversation partner.

“Look I’ll just---” He thought for a moment before continuing, “I’ll just avoid Gong until this all blows over. Can’t have emotions if there’s no one there to exasperate them, right?”

In-response to being slightly jostled, the fuzzy creature flapped her wings in minor annoyance, offering up a gentle warning growl.

“Ugh, yeah, you’re right. He wouldn’t let me do that,” The dekapon mumbled with a roll of the eye, trying to ignore the slight pang in his chest at the idea, “Besides I uh….Wouldn’t want to worry him like that.”

...Damn it. There he went again, overthinking how the other general would worry about him and how he found it obnoxiously sweet.

Oh no.

“You don’t think he’s---” Kuwagattan coughed awkwardly, “Worried now, do you? I kind of ran off to the infirmary really abruptly earlier.”

The babatto in his arms shuffled slightly, turning her body towards the entrance of his home with a peep.

“...You’re not helpful,” He grumbled, releasing the bat from his arms, watching her scramble back to the warmth of the blanket off to the corner, “I’ll just. I don’t know. Make sure no one’s looking for me real quick.”

He took a few tentative steps forwards, barely peering out from behind the cloth marking the entrance of the home, glancing about like some sort of paranoid hermit. Gods, this looked pathetic. Don’t--- just don’t think too hard about it. That’s what he told himself at least. It’s fine.

Off nearby were the two zigoton generals chatting amongst themselves. Kuwagattan had to assume that  Gong had come to ask Spiderton about how things were going at camp, and judging by the absolute annoyance etched on the kibaton’s face and anger in his movements, most likely he was going off on a rant about the dekapon again. He could guess where this would go from there, and he wasn’t exactly anticipating the results. Spiderton would talk about his admittedly rash choice to visit the infirmary and ‘bother’ the zigoton for most of the morning, Gong would say he would deal with it, and well--

He sighed. Just don’t think too hard about it. He’d say he’s fine and send the tateton on his way for the day. Easy. Just--- claim he’s tired and needs more rest or something. That wouldn’t be worrying nor suspicious.

Or blame it all on Spiderton. That typically worked most of the time to deter any real conversation on the actual issue.

Well, might as well get this all over with. With a deep breath and quick check to make sure he looked presentable and not flushed any longer, the dekapon scurried out of his makeshift home, running up to the two. Spiderton offered an exasperated roll of the eye as he approached.

“Hey what’s the nerd so worked up about? I could hear him from my spot,” He snickered, offering up a ‘smirk’ when the other general growled at him with a cross of his arms, “Did he run out of metal again?”

“Oh I’m not dealing with you again, absolutely not,” The kibaton grumbled, turning on his heel to make a hasty exit, “Stay out of my infirmary, and stay away from my projects you giant--- ugh--- You giant menace!”

He snickered in response, amused at just how quickly he could annoy the other. Incredible everytime, really. The same response no matter what he did, always met with anger and ramblings that he was fairly certain even Spiderton was aware that he did not listen to nor care about.

“Spiderton,” Gong stated softly, trying to break up the tension, “I told you I’d see what the problem was. You can return to your work now, if you would like.”

And as the spider-helmed general departed, all attention was now on him. Kuwagattan fidgeted very slightly despite his attempts not to as Gong held his gaze for a moment, brow quirked in that stupid familiar worry again. This is why he was soft, he was surrounded by overt softness and stupid--- stupid kindness! He should’ve just went on his own way and left this all behind!

...He didn’t mean that. He knew he didn’t mean that. That’s why he didn’t say it.

Ugh. He really was losing his toughness. What a shame.

“Kuwagattan?” The gentle tone shown to him made the dekapon’s heart tick just a little faster despite his attempts to prevent it, “Are you quite alright? I was told that you were hovering around the infirmary today.”

“Uh yeah,” He hated how his voice was lacking it’s typical confidence right now. That’d be picked up on so easily, “I thought I was sick but--- I think I was just exhausted. You know, same reason I don’t do vigils. That and y’know, any opportunity to bother the nerd.”

Nailed it. Perfect excuse.

“You’re positive it was just exhaustion? I would hate for you to be truly ill and not tell us the truth...”

Not the perfect excuse, not the perfect excuse! His body froze up momentarily, gaze darting to the side to think of anything else. He should’ve known this was a bad idea.

“Ugh-- Yes I’m sure,” He masked it under a layer of false annoyance, “Don’t patronize me, I know what I’m doing.”

“...You’re trembling.”

He absolutely was, wasn’t he? The akumapon was completely wrapped up in this stupid emotion and it was getting much harder to hide it. Ugh. Just his luck. This couldn’t end well, something bad would happen and he would have to go off on his own away from the tribes again. He didn’t want to do that again, not when he felt like he belonged somewhere for once.

“...I just have a lot on my mind,” It was a half truth, really. He did have a lot on his mind, but not typically about any...differing situation or emotion currently, “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. Really.”

“Would you like to tell me?” Gong responded, hand moving to gently rest on the top of his own, “You know I wouldn’t mock you for whatever it is.”

Of course he was going to pry like that. There was never hiding anything around the tateton general, he always found everything out one way or another. Some sort of sense of needing to fix or take care of everything that was established way back in zigoton territory. He could keep telling half truths, throw the other off and have him think he fixed the issue. He’d stop then.

If only the dekapon could get his own emotions under control that easily. He felt way too warm and way too nervous. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Uh...I guess,” He grumbled, fighting the oncoming flush he could feel approaching, “Just--- Don’t pry too much about it.”

“If it’s that personal, I won’t. I promise.”

Great. Great. That’d work. Just admit to having some sort of soft feelings for someone, that’d explain his behavior and it wouldn’t have to go any further than that. He wouldn’t know. This could be put to rest very quickly.

“Alright, fine,” Ah, right on cue. He knew the purple color his face was taking was growing more obvious, “I might--- I don’t know. I might--- Be fond of someone- ughhhh- And I hate it. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

He took note of the slightly surprised look Gong offered in response that slowly turned into a polite ‘smile’ as he took a step back to sit, motioning for Kuwagattan to do the same.

“I see!” The zigoton chuckled, “You really have changed a lot, haven’t you?”

Don’t remind him.

“And I am assuming you’re worried these feelings will make you seem weak?”

The dekapon furrowed his brow with a groan, “You know me too well. I hate that. Look, I know you’ll say something about ‘not being weak’ blah blah….Just move onto whatever stupid advice you have.”

Stupid advice...He knew he was absolutely lying through his teeth about how he actually felt about the sincere words that were often thrown his way. He appreciated them way more than the other knew, often clinging to even the slightest praise for days on end. If anything, he was more mad at himself over that.

“Hm, alright, I’ll move past the reassurance,” Gong responded, hint of amusement in his tone, “You’re clearly not in the mood for this to go on for very long.”

“Yeah, you think?” The beetle-helmed general huffed, “I’m not used to this, just--- hurry up so I can like--- I don’t know, move along with my damned life?”

“No need to get aggressive with me. I’m only trying to help,” He bit back the guilt he felt for the slight snap as the zigoton spoke, “If you truly want my honest advice on this, I would simply tell you to just...Be honest with them. Everyone here is nice enough, though I know you doubt that.”

Tell him? Tell him?! Oh no, no absolutely not. He was not risking that at all. Why did he have to go and ask for advice like that? That wasn’t helpful.

“Uh- why would I do something stupid like that?” Kuwagattan held back the rumble of a purr as the other rubbed a circle into the back of his hand, “I want it to go away, not--- that.”

“I cannot help you with that,” Gong quirked his brow, “I’m only telling you what I know typically works. ...Are you possibly scared of rejection? You of all people?”

The hint of a joking prod at him made the dekapon shiver again. He didn’t deserve the kindness and he wasn’t about to admit that, yes, infact, he was very scared of rejection. Ending up alone again. This was ridiculous.

“Pft, no,” He opted to state, “Why would I care about that?”

“Then I’m not sure what you’re so scared of, Kuwagattan,” Gong hummed softly, “I think anyone would be lucky to have you looking after them.”

That sentence was enough to stun the dekapon for quite a few moments, fidgeting aggressively with his  free hand as his heart raced a bit faster again. He didn’t mind so much this time, unable to keep back the strange rumble of a purr that he almost forgot he was capable of. Lucky? Really? With him?

Was that maybe a---

Well it could mean--

Did it?

Should he maybe-…

He wanted to, badly. Oh no, what had he done to himself? Of all the days. It...It couldn’t end that poorly, could it? The tateton was too kind to possibly hate him for it, right?

“Well uh, that’s really nice of you to say about me,” he coughed slightly, aiming for just a little distraction for just a moment, opting to snatch both of Gong’s hands in his own, “Really, you uh--- you didn’t have to say that.”

The zigoton glanced downwards, creasing his eye like he was contemplating something, looking him up and down with a hint of confusion. Kuwagattan figured this was a silent question for what he was doing. ...He wasn’t entirely sure himself, honestly.

“And uh well um,” He stuttered slightly, unsure of where exactly to go from here.

The next action he opted for was quick, but shockingly gentle coming from the akumapon. He had remembered, though a bit vaguely, that typically zigotons showed affection through lightly bumping heads. The dekapon mostly remembered this fact from two rather obnoxious soldiers, practically inseparable those two. That was really besides the point, he figured, as he gently pressed his forehead against the tateton’s before rather rapidly pulling away.

Maybe that was a mistake. Too late to take it back now.

Gong tensed for a moment, eye wide and staring almost blankly in shock. The typical, relaxed and seemingly ‘all knowing’ air the general tried to carry had completely evaporated, replaced with that of confusion. Soon, however, he relaxed, red creeping up over his face with a blink.

“Uhm--” Kuwagattan coughed, “...So I--- guess that was obvious enough. Sorry. I’ll--- uh I’ll let you go now.”

Before he could release the other general’s hands, he felt them slightly tighten around his own as the zigoton responded with a soft shake of the head, “No, that’s not necessary, I assure you.”

Oh. He really did---

Oh.

“...I’m quite fond of you as well,” Though it was much quieter than the dekapon’s, he noticed the purr that was occurring as the tateton got slightly closer, leaning up against him to return the affection.

“You---you’re sure about that?” Kuwagattan sighed softly, “You’re not---joking?”

“Of course I’m certain, it would be cruel of me to lie to you.”

“...Okay,” The dekapon lowered himself just slightly to be more comfortable, “I’ll trust you on that...”

This was...nice. He could get used to it, surely.

[liliesoftherain]

Bomber Jacket

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Angst, Comforting

Word Count: 1.5K +

Summary: Who knew that old bomber jacket of his would lead to this.

A/N: I had a quick inspiration and I typed this out, so after this I really won’t post anything new until finals are over! I’m just a huge procrastinator so anything to keep me away from homework I will do. Enjoy!

The sky was nowhere to be seen, it’s form hidden by the darkened clouds. Not even the raging winds could help push them aside, they were here to stay. Although,even with no intention of letting the light shine through, they provided some beauty. It was an ethereal sight to behold indeed: the gray that painted the city as if it were a photograph changed by a filter. Not even the blinding fog that swirled in the streets below could lessen the bitter sweetness of it all. 

You watched it all from the comfort of your home, sipping warmth straight from your mug and allowing its comfort to sooth your sorrows. It was a day like this after all that changed your life forever. That was all in the past now. Her cold fingers threatened to squeeze your throat with her harsh memories, but it was all a dulled pain. One you have learned to suppress as the years trickled on, trying to enable yourself to find another happiness. A block from it all. You did, and he was the most perfect thing your life has blessed you with

A sound from upstairs caught your attention, glancing up at the ceiling as if you could peer through to see the mysteries above. You stood, setting your cup down as your curiosity pulled you up the stairs and towards the open attic door.

The stairs that led up there were calling your name, as they have only seen you a few times since moving in years ago. Your heart felt heavy as you knew what lies in store for you once you go up there, it happened every time you did. It was the main reason you stayed away after all, your heart could only break so much. 

You heard another thump and incoherent mutterings followed. You shake your head, a smile forming on your face despite previous thoughts that were creeping into your mind.

“Love, are you up there?” 

The old steps were taunting, daring you to climb them. Their whispers were screams that you could barely hear over until a light voice broke through, causing a peace to wash away the harsh tones.

“Yea, I’ll be right down.”

That wasn’t fair, you knew it wasn’t. Just because you couldn’t stand the reminders of your past, doesn't mean he shouldn’t be able to enjoy them. 

You willed your body to move, taking the steps slowly, cautiously. The further up you went, the more quickly your heart began to beat. Till you reached the top and it stopped completely. The sight before you was quick to bring tears to your eyes, a hand slowly coming up to your mouth to muffle the gasp you didn’t even realize you made.

Red eyes met yours, they were just as wide as your own, a hint of shock and regret swirling in them. 

“What are-uh, I-I’m sorry I didn’t think you’d come up-” He stuttered, gaze now looking anywhere but you. 

You could only stare in complete silence. Your thoughts taken over as former dormant memories sprung to life, dancing in your head like a movie on repeat. All you could see was Katsuki standing there.

“Mom.. I’m sorry-”

“You have no reason to be my love.” Your eyes shining with unshed tears, causing him to panic.

“But you’re crying!” 

“Am I?” A smile graced your lips, despite the tears that now freely down your cheeks. 

You son was speechless, unable to do anything as you brought him into your arms. The hug lasted for what felt like a lifetime, but it still wasn’t enough for you. You ran a hand through his spiky blond locks before pulling back just enough to gaze at his face. You didn’t have to look down far, even at the age of thirteen he was already close to surpassing your height. 

“You look so much like your dad, I was caught off guard is all. That was his favorite jacket you know?” 

He looked at the bomber jacket as your run your hands along the sleeves, playfully tapping each patch on the way.

“I got him this one you know,” You pointed at the flaming skull on the collar, “he was so embarrassed when I pointed out how quickly he got it sewed on. He thought if he yelled loud enough it would distract from the giant blush on his face. It didn’t.”

“Mom?”

“Yes love?”

“Can I..” He looked away, arms untangling from your middle and brought to hug himself. 

“You most certainly can have it, your.. your dad would be so proud of you.”

You wiped the tears that now ran down his face.

“I miss him.” 

“I miss him too baby.” You brought him in for a hug once more and he gripped your shirt like a lifeline. 

“I know he misses you too, God, he loved you so much.” 

He sobbed into your shoulder, and your heart was squeezing at the sound.

“I have something to show you, I was going to wait till you got into his alma mater, but I think you need it now.” You pulled back and led him downstairs into your room. You only kept a few things in your room of his, a few shirts, a few gifts, but most importantly his notes. 

No one would take Bakugou Katsuki as the type to write love letters, but he did. He wrote many to you in his life, and you kept them all in a special box in the drawer of your bedside table. 

You son looked confused as you sat down on the bed, legs hanging over the edge as you patted the spot next to you. He complied, staring at the box you gripped tightly in your hands.

You opened it to reveal tons of papers that were kept organized, trying to keep it that way as you dug through the contents, finding the paper you needed.

“Your father wrote this.. For you.” 

He slowly took the paper from your hand, and looked at the surprisingly neat words that filled the entire page.

Son,

If you’re reading this then I’m sorry, because this means we can never have this conversation in person. I often think of the type of legacy I will leave behind for you, will it be enough? Will it be something that makes you proud? Even more so, I wonder if I was around long enough for you to remember me. This line of work I am in is dangerous, but I could never picture leaving it. I do this for you and your mother, to make sure the world you will grow up in is a safe one. I hope you know how much I love you and how much I want for you. From the start, from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, you were the spark of my life. The one thing that truly mattered.

I wish I could be there for you, there is so much I wish to share with you, to experience with you. Things I hope I will, so you will never have to see this letter, but things don’t always work like that. So here are some lessons I hope this letter will provide, and you allow these lessons to take root into your life and be bigger than I ever was;

Always protect those that are weaker than you. If all you ever do is look down on people, you won't be able to recognize your own weakness. I was never good with this rule myself, not until I met your mother. Yet not truly until I met you, my son. Keep that compassion and strength that comes from a concern for the world and the people around you, don’t lose it. Use it to push yourself, to be stronger. 

Be safe, I cannot stress this enough. Don’t throw yourself into danger because you think that is the only way to win. No one is winning if you think dying is the only way to save someone, you must live for others. Your mother doesn’t deserve another heartbreak, and you’re the only one there who can provide the love she needs. She is the strongest person I know, but she’ll need someone to lean on. So don’t forget to lean on each other. 

Love with all of your heart, never be afraid to share your emotions. They don’t make you weak, it’s the opposite. Your strength doesn’t come from your quirk, it comes from your heart. Your feelings, your love, your care, your compassion.

Above all else son, I want you to remember that even if I’m not physically there with you, my love for you will always be. I love you more than life itself, and I’ll be damned if anything tries to convince you otherwise. I will never be really gone, I’ll always be in your heart. Remember that.

I am your biggest fan, I am your greatest protector, I will always be proud of you, I will always be confident in your skills, I will always love you unconditionally, and I will always be here for you. Nothing will change that. So I hope you can forgive me one day for having to leave you so soon.

I love you son.

Your dad, 

Bakugou Katsuki.

Tears fell from your eyes at the sight of your smiling son, his hands lightly tracing along the words of the paper. He looked at you, eyes red but a determined grin on his face, and in that split second you swore you saw your husband sitting behind your son with the same smirk on his own.

“I’ll become a great hero, just like dad, even better than him. I swear it!”

“I have no doubts you will dear.. I have no doubts at all.”

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Third Act: Patience

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, angst, supernatural, romance, comedy, slice of life

word count: 5.1k

Related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin

Continuation of the events following Jamais Vu + Interlude: Second Best

A/N: SOOO this is surprisingly quite shorter than I had planned because i was actually gonna put together two acts in this chapter but then i thought against it by the end because it would ruin my aesthetic of the story LOL PLUS more to read for these trying times. On that note, i hope you guys enjoy this nevertheless and that you’re all doing well, stay healthy and safe!

Tags! @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl​

The rest of the night was a blur in your memories. You vaguely remember exiting the arena in a daze, robotically moving with the flow of the crowd and ending up outside. The night air doesn’t shock you as much as it should from being in a stuffy place for so long, the reason being never really did leave your mind and it only makes you worry your bottom lip.

Eventually, Rosa finds you after blowing your phone up with all of her messages that weren’t able to get through from the weak signal; first crushing you into a hug and asking if you were okay, apologizing for having lost you when really, it was your fault and once you assured her that you were, proceeded to squeal with unbridled emotions while shaking you, still crushed against her.

It pulls a small smile out of you, wheezing a laugh before she finally puts you down. You’re happy to hear Rosa chat away so excitedly about the concert, the high of it all has yet to subside. You wish you could share the same enthusiasm as her, but you’re feeling more like you skipped straight into the post-concert depression stage, even though you literally just stepped out of the arena. Or at least, you tell Rosa that when she notices how strained your responses were.

It takes some time, but you make it back to your hotel. You remember trying to push yourself to keep up conversations with Rosa, guilty for raining on her parade a little and at times, you think it works as you two look over the footage she managed to get on her phone. However, unsurprisingly, it was short-lived; whenever you catch sight of Jimin despite knowing that it’s not your guardian, your mind automatically drifts to the fight you had in the back alley and your guilt takes on a completely different form — one much more stifling and overwhelming.

It continues to gnaw at you through the night and to the moment you step on the plane, ready to fly back home. It’s made you develop a habit of checking your phone every other minute, a small part of you hoping to see something, anything that might be from him.

By the time you’re back in your room late in the afternoon, you still hear nothing.

You discard your luggage and bags in a corner without much care before sagging onto your bed. Jaehee wasn’t home when you got in, but the note she’s stuck on your bedroom door told you that she was out doing a grocery run and would be back shortly to welcome you home properly with a home-cooked meal. You smile softly at the thought but it doesn’t stay for long as your attention drifts back to the phone clutched in your hand. You click to unlock it, finding no new messages or calls yet again, the sight further eating away at you.

A heavy sigh leaves you, eyes slipping shut and your head slumps down as you bring the phone up to your temple, hitting against it gently.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? Your mind recalls the memory with clarity; a movie scene being replayed before you and you cringe at how you acted, every word and action reminded you of a spoiled child. Looking back now, you knew he was only trying to look out for you, keep your best health in mind but you were too caught up in your emotions at the time, tunnel visioned so hard you didn’t see the bigger picture until you’ve already walked away.

Now you’re reaping what you sowed.

As if the weight on your shoulders became too much, you allow yourself to fall back onto your bed. Your arm automatically reaches out to the giant plush cat, dragging it until you have it flushed against you, the malleable toy bringing a little sense of comfort. You pull your phone up to your face again, unlocking it once more and unsurprisingly, not finding any new messages. You stare a little longer before almost unconsciously your finger taps onto the text thread and then they hover over the call icon — hesitating.

What would you say? Would he even want to hear from you?

The thought makes your chest ache, but what’s worse than that is never hearing from him again at all and this would be your last memories of each other. No, you don’t want that. So you take a fortifying breath, pushing away all of your self-doubting thoughts and finally —

The phone comes alive in your hand, the vibration and the ringtone combined making you jolt for a second with your hands fumbling the device. Once you get a grip, your eyes scan the screen and your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. Without a second thought, you slide to accept the call.

“Hello?” It comes out in a gasp, breathless from how fast you bolt up from your position, ramrod straight and the poor plush cat clutched against you like a lifeline.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah, hey…” Your heart is racing like you’ve ran a marathon, so loud in your ears that you hope by some miracle he doesn’t pick it up through the line because lord knows you’re not doing a good job at hiding how nervous you are.

“…Hey…”

And the sound of his voice is not helping; husky and low, like rich velvet chocolate that has your heart stuttering and melting all at once. He’s so easily emptied your head of all the things you had wanted to say and he’s only said one word.

Wow, you’re really losing it huh?

“Y/N?”

“H-Huh?”

“I asked if you got home okay.”

Your cheeks heat, picking up on the breathy edge of his tone and already imagining the amused quirk of his full lips. “Yeah! I — Yeah, I just got in…. In my room, just… resting for now…”

“That’s good to hear….” You hear him trailing off, trying to keep the conversation light and casual as if there wasn’t a giant pink elephant between you. It does nothing but make you more aware of it, antsy in needing to come forward and own up to your mistake because he, of all people, deserves an apology for how poorly you acted. Swallowing, you take in a breath and just go for it before you can regret it.

“Jimin—“

“Y/N—“

You both pause, an awkward silence filling the space at not anticipating the other speaking the same time. Hurriedly, you try to cover up your social blunder, embarrassed.


“God, sorry you can—“


“Sorry, what were you—“

Again, you speak over each other, which ensues another awkward beat. It’s only broken when you can’t help but let out a short huff of a laugh, completely at a lost. Through the line however, you’re greeted with the pleasant sounds of his own chuckle joining your own and like a spell, you are at ease, the nerves dissipating slowly.

“Now I remember why I can’t do phone calls…” You groan, half-jokingly but also already burying your face halfway into the large toy you have that’s now acting as an emotional support. If only it could swallow you whole…

“It’s okay, I don’t mind — not like I’m doing any better.” He replies and you smile softly, the warmth of his voice so soothing to your ears. Any other time you probably would be satisfied in listening to him talk for hours through the phone, social awkwardness be damn but this is neither here nor there, so you shake yourself before you get too lost into the tempting idea, getting back on the matter at hand.

“How about you go first?”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Seriously, Jimin—“

“I insist, Y/N.” Jimin’s voice is still gentle yet firm, enough for you to sense that there’s no room for argument. “Please.”

So you sigh, giving in. “Okay….” You say that, but it takes you a moment to gather yourself, not knowing where to begin or how to put into words what you feel properly.

But he waits patiently, and the quiet assurance allows for you to take that first step, even if you might stumble.

“I’m sorry,” You blurt out before you catch yourself and think maybe you need a little bit more context. “The concert… When you saved me from passing out by taking me outside, I— I’m really grateful you did that. I think it would’ve been bad if you hadn’t so…. What I said afterwards, and how I acted afterwards, that was really shitty of me…. You were right; I was so careless —“

“Y/N....”

“No! I really wasn’t thinking! And it’s so unfair of me because you helped me and I just—!” You stop abruptly, your voice rising dangerously in pitch with frustration and take in a shaky breath, trying to reign in your emotions. There’s no way you’re going to turn this already mess of an apology into an even bigger mess by actually crying. He might not be able to see you but you still felt the need to walk away with some dignity; composed so that he won’t think you’re some pathetic wreck. After swallowing away the growing lump in your throat, you continue on quietly, “I was just….so mad at myself. Like, after everything I couldn’t even stay for the entire concert — like I completely wasted it all and I took it out on you. So if you’re mad at me, then I get it; just know that I’m really sorry, Jimin.”

You don’t know what to say after that, not sure if there’s anything else left that isn’t ‘I’m sorry’. So you wait with bated breath for him to say something. Forgiveness was a selfish want from you but you would understand if he chooses not to despite the thought of it alone leaves your chest aching. The mere minutes of silence drags on like an eternity for you until finally, you hear him sigh.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you, I promise.” He says, sincerely. “And I should be the one apologizing; for…freaking out at you like that, it just made things worse. I know….I know how much they mean to you,” There’s a short pause, like there was suddenly something holding him back but he shakes it off just as quickly as it had came, “how much he means to you.”

The statement has you momentarily taken aback, not expecting it at all. For some reason, you didn’t like the way he said that, even when everything about it was true. Before you can think too much on it however, Jimin quickly switches the tone in conversation, redirecting your attention elsewhere. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out but you know your safety is my priority, right?”


“Y-Yeah, I know….” You reply, a little flustered from having your thoughts derailed but pouting at being reminded of your deplorable behaviour, feeling much like a reprimanded child. “I promise I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“That’s my girl.” You grunt in acknowledgement, heated face sinking back into the soft confines of the bean-shaped cat still in your arms. “Listen, I have to go soon, so take care of yourself for me alright? Get something to eat and, please unpack and do your laundry.”

His playful gibe draws out an affronted gasp from you, “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You only get a peal of laughter in response, making you further pout indignantly.


“I’ll talk to you later okay? Stay safe, cherub.”

“M-Mm, yeah okay. I’ll talk to you later then.”

When you hang up, you’re in a bit of daze. On one hand, you feel relieved that you both managed to resolve the fight that was weighing so heavily on your chest, honestly just glad to hear from your guardian again too but on the other hand, you can’t help also feeling like you’d been bulldozed a little. You want to say you’re simply over analyzing things, but your mind is constantly wandering back to what he said about how much BTS meant to you — more specifically, how much he, BTS’ Jimin, meant to you.

It almost sounded as if….

As if he believed you thought less about him in comparison.

You swear your heart drops to your stomach, frozen in a stunned silence like you can’t process this information, the idea preposterous and so close to outright denying it until you realize that… you never gave any indication otherwise. It really has always been BTS and their Jimin with you but now…

Now there’s Jimin….Your Jimin.

BTS are still important to you but your guardian has become someone irreplaceable to you, and through all the fond memories you can recall, he's there.

He's always been there.

The revelation triggers everything all at once; sweaty palms, palpitating heart, butterflies in the stomach — the whole shebang along with a whole Pandora’s box of emotions: elation, relief, disbelief, giddiness, uncertainty….

And crippling anxiety.

Oh boy, you think as a nervous laugh escapes you, I’m in danger.

-

Fuck.

He curses to himself for the umpteenth time as a particularly harsh wave of pain rolls over him, eyes squeezing shut to try and block it out but he thinks all he’s done successfully is make himself dizzy. It lasts for a second longer before finally it ebbs away and a long exhale escapes past his lips, relieved. The demon remains where he is slouched against the concrete ledge lining the rooftop he’s on a while longer, simply catching his breath and letting the gentle breeze cool his skin. Only once he feels the throbbing against his head die down does he let his eyes slip open again.

He’s greeted with the brilliant sight of the sunset sky, so vibrant it almost seems like he’s looking at a painting. The rich shades of orange bleed like wildfire, lighting the streaks of wispy clouds almost red before blending in to softer pinks and hints of lilacs, the blues deepening into a more indigo shade with the coming of night. The sun sits just a little above the horizon, its glow no more than a haze as it continues to make its descent and he watches on with an almost mocking indifference to the splendour of it all.

Jimin instead, idly thinks he’s gotten a good handle at dealing with the shockwave of pain that comes with completing a deed. He doesn’t feel as winded or sore from the muscle aches it usually leave behind — he wonders if he’ll eventually become numb to it or simply be too tired to care. Dark eyes wander down to his phone still clutched in his hand and the conversation he had not too long ago rushes back.

It went… surprisingly smoother than he had expected, despite the awkward start. When he had decided to call you, Jimin had finally swallowed his pride in that he owes you at least an apology for shouting at you the way he did. It was unnecessary and did more harm than good, evident when he had watched you withdraw in on yourself soon afterwards. He should’ve known better, but in that moment his emotions got in the way; those dark desires he's trying to keep locked away, only for them to become harder and harder to contain the longer time passes. And that’s what Jimin’s afraid of — that despite knowing how much the band and the singer means to you, he’ll disregard it all for petty, selfish reasons. Hell, he couldn’t even acknowledge the fact out loud just now without having to practically force it through his teeth and even then, the bitter aftertaste the words leave behind still lingers.

Like a reminder that all Jimin will ever have with you are fleeting moments, nothing more.

Jimin’s afraid that sooner or later, he’ll end up hurting you because he got too greedy.

A deep sigh leaves him and he runs a hand through his dark tresses out of stress, thoughts racing through his troubled mind until one sticks out above the rest. From the way things are going, Jimin thinks his best course of action would be to distance himself from you a bit more; see you less in person and maybe perhaps get your roommate Jaehee to check in on you every once in a while for him.

It’s not something he wants to do, but with it, it’s killing two birds with one stone — you won’t find out about his weakening condition and he won’t do anything that he’ll regret.

-

Before you know it, the week is nearly over with days passing by with you back on your routine again of going to work and occasionally hanging out with your friends. The world moves on as if nothing were amiss even though for you, it was anything but.

Sure, in the grand scheme of things (i.e. the universe), your problem is pretty minuscule and there’s no doubt that if your friends were clued in on everything, they would probably smack you, call you a dumb-dumb and tell you to quote, ‘get that ass!’ but it just had to be so much more complicated than that.

First and foremost, you were four days old when you found out that you’ve caught feelings for a demon who also happens to be your supernatural entity guardian.

That sentence alone is already chock full of all sorts of sacrilegious implications (not that you really cared but you can only imagine how it would sound like to an outsider).

Secondly, you don’t know if he feels the same way or if he just sees you as something else; a tolerable human being that’s entertaining? A friend you would hope at least. Or…. Simply an obligation.

That last one stung a little.

Worse is you haven’t forgotten that your guardian was only meant to stay temporarily, something that had already been troubling you in the back of your mind and though you had pushed it away continuously, you learn that all it did was grow until it began manifesting itself in ways you hadn’t realized. Both a good and a bad thing because in doing so, some things make much more sense now. But with you being aware of your feelings, the question of how or should you even let them be known becomes the cherry on top of this rapidly melting sundae.

You think you’ve worked through every possible scenario, dissecting them every way you can like a mad scientist, but the results all end up the same either way — things wouldn’t work out and you’ll just end up being heart broken.

An exasperated groan leaves you and your forehead nearly connects with the table below you before you caught yourself midway, thinking better because you don’t know what’s been on it. You don’t get time to continue your brooding however as a radio static voice cuts through the lunchroom.

“Hey Y/N, you back from your break yet?”

Glancing down at your phone, you note the time and inwardly curse, reaching up to press down on the mic reluctantly, “Yeah, I’m on my way out.”

“Okay, cool. Once you’re back up on cash, Stephanie can take her break then.”

You slouch back on your seat, intent on taking your time to get up (not like there was anyone here to clock you on your punctuality). You have two hours left on your shift but already you feel drained, both physically and mentally. Eventually, you muster the strength and willpower to finally get up and begin making your way back to the store floor, despite your mind being far from keeping the queue line clean and customers happy.

You sigh, hoping weakly that by some miracle, the remaining work would be enough to distract you from your troubling thoughts, if only for a short while.

When the two hours were done, it felt like you had been holding your breath the entire time and when you finally clocked out did you let yourself breathe. The weight of your thoughts stayed, but at least now you’re finally free to wallow in it once again without any interruptions. Probably not the greatest thing since it nearly made you miss your stop. You get through the door, catching Jaehee just as she’s making her way to the kitchen, changed in her lounge wear, fresh from a shower with her hair still damp and a towel draped around her shoulders.

“Jaehee, you’re home… kinda early?” You remark, taking a glance down at your phone to confirm that usually she wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half.

“Oh yeah, I asked to clock out early; wasn’t feeling too well.” She answers wryly with a half-hearted shrug. You blink at that, brows pinching a little in worry.

“Coming down with something?”

“Nah, nothing serious. Promise.” Jaehee smiles, assuring. “I’m gonna make lasagna tonight, sounds good?”

You nod, feeling your stomach rumble with anticipation. After washing up, you head out of your room, comfy in your pjs and already smelling the cheesy goodness of the lasagna baking. Peering into the kitchen, you see Jaehee busy with cutting up lettuce, most likely for a salad on the side for you to share.

“So how was your day?” Jaehee asks as you step in to take out some plates and utensils.

You respond with a noise; a straining, drawn out groan that borderlines on a mental breakdown but never quite reaches. It’s a response your roommate is familiar with, so much that any further context isn’t necessary for her to understand that work has been same old, same old; irritating but you do it for the money.

“Any dumb customers?” She laughs.

You pause to think but then answer, “Thankfully, no. Like, God decided to take pity on me for once. What about you? Has your manager been acting up lately, Ethan?”

At the mention, Jaehee lets out her own groan, shoulders dropping for a second as if the very thought’s weight had suddenly pushed down on her. You offer a sympathetic pat before slipping on oven mits to grab the now ready lasagna. Jaehee worked at an office in a junior position as a recruiter of sorts, a job she managed to get a little bit before graduating and thus, quitting her old retail job. What the company does specifically you’re still a little unsure of to this day but from what you’ve been hearing through Jaehee, you think that’s not the biggest issue to worry about.

Most of the stories Jaehee chooses to share with you were more or less what you would call ‘office horror stories’ — two-faced co-workers, that one guy who doesn’t know what personal space is, after work get togethers that, although is a nice idea, were often times far too forced to feel anything remotely ‘team bonding’, some handful shady department practices and of course, the unstable manager. Needless to say, it’s left you feeling concerned over the environment Jaehee has chosen to work in and although she expresses the same opinions as you whenever she vents, she’s always left feeling uncertain on what to do and then just brushes it off.

You don’t push on it further after that, only offering suggestions she could possibly consider but ultimately, leave it for her to decide whether she would actually take them or not. This is Jaehee’s job, not yours and you respect and trust Jaehee as a person who can make the right choices about her life.

And so dinner passes by in that same manner, the subject shifting quickly onto more casual things. Once or twice Jaehee would sneakily ask how things are going on with Jimin (or Julien as she knows him) of which like talks about her workplace, you skitter around on — as if you can explain your dilemma to her when you don’t even know where to begin yourself!

By the time you wash up and crash land onto your bed, you’re back to square one, caught up in your internal whirlwind of emotions with no hopes of trying to sort any of the mess out. Like Dorothy trapped in her little house that’s been sucked into the tornado, except you don’t even have a little dog to be your emotional support. You toss and you turn for a while, kept up by those thoughts until your self-promises of trying to go to sleep early is abandoned in favour of scrolling endlessly through your social media feeds. So much for trying to fix your awful sleep schedule.

You swear you blink once and it’s well past two in the morning already. You put your phone down with a sigh, bringing up a hand to rub your eyes and relieve them momentarily from the harsh glare of the screen. The thought that maybe you should give it a rest and attempt to sleep, even if it means just closing your eyes and hoping you lull off at some point crosses your mind but right when you’re about to part with your phone, a low buzz erupts from it along with a small chime. The vibration sends a shock from your chest before you lift up the device, the screen lit with a new incoming notification. When your eyes adjust to the brightness once more, you freeze.

Speak of the demon.

“Hey cherub,

I know it’s pretty late (though something tells me you’re still awake anyways)

But I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re doing.”

You inwardly groan to yourself; it’s like the Lord is testing you right now. All the mixed feelings you’ve been having has you seeing things through new lenses. It’s annoying on every aspect — you hate how it has made you second guess yourself on everything that you’ll do or say, like you’re walking on eggshells while being smothered at the same time. But you can’t deny that your caution isn’t without reason. When it comes to matters of the heart, your approach is comparatively much more skeptical than to most people you know. Hence, you suppose, it would explain your sparse and short-lived dating history.

You weren’t a big risk taker or trusting enough to leave your heart in someone else’s hands; you feel like you have so much more to lose than to gain and you’d rather save the heartache for something a little bit more worthwhile. So to even think about shooting your shot with someone when the odds are so against you like this….

You chew on your lip, heart pounding and fingers hovering over the keyboard in limbo, caught between listening to your head or your heart. But Jimin…. Your dear guardian Jimin, always had this inexplicable effect on you. You don’t know whether it’s from his nature as a demon or something else, but it has only grown stronger over the time you’ve spent with him that you think no matter how hard you try to stay away, you’ll find yourself unconsciously searching for him again, like a moth drawn to a flame.

And so you find yourself tentatively typing out your response, backspacing when the doubt creeps in but ultimately, you reason, as long as you don’t give anything away, he can’t see through you… yet.

You hit send before you think too deeply on that.

“I don’t appreciate being called out like that >:(

But if you must know, I’m well (despite, you know, possibly losing out on precious sleep right now due to a certain demon).”

The bated breath you let out could be mistaken for accomplishing something excruciatingly nerve wracking, like skydiving for the first time. It’s comical really, if you weren’t the one going through it. Your head flops to the side momentarily in a defeated manner; why did you have to get smacked in the face with feelings when you can barely get a handle of what you want for dinner the following day? Maybe you shouldn’t have replied, but then you’d feel bad because Jimin hasn’t done anything to get ghosted. Oh god, maybe you should’ve just replied in the morning instead, why did you have to be so — ! A rumble pulls you out of your mental panicking and with jittery hands you bring up your phone again, hastily reading the reply.

“Don’t pout cherub, I’m just messing with you ~

I actually didn’t think you would reply but anyways, I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay at least so you should try to get some of that sleep.

I won’t keep you then.”

But you do pout regardless. In spite of sounding like you wanted to desperately hide away from ever talking to Jimin again in fear of acting like a fool, you can’t help feeling a little disappointed at how short the conversation was. Your fingers move on their own, typing out the first thoughts that comes to mind, only to erase them. It goes on like that until you finally stop on the sixth try, deflating as if all the night’s tumultuous emotions have finally worn you out to a sullen calm. What are you even trying to do? You feel like for the past minutes, you’ve done nothing but be so indecisive with yourself that you fear you don’t know what you want anymore. Perhaps this is your divine intervention that you should sleep on this, at least for tonight.

With a resigned sigh, you send off a short and simple message, not really expecting a reply as you finally place your phone down on your nightstand.

“I’ll go to sleep soon.

I hope you’re doing well too, staying out of trouble and such.

I can’t exactly guarantee you that I’ll be of much help if you do, so….don’t do it!

And thanks… for checking up on me.”

You go to settle down into your sheets when the familiar chime and rumble once again snags your attention and you can’t resist, reaching over. You read over his words, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m fine, don’t worry your pretty little head over me.

I won’t do anything that’ll stress you out….too much ;)

(the prick, always gotta keep you on your toes somehow but you suppose that’s why there’s never a dull moment with him)

It’s not a problem darling, so rest easy and …. sweet dreams.”

The smile lingers on your lips long after you drift off to a surprisingly peaceful slumber, mind put more at ease. You’ll figure this out, one way or another.