#also a perfect summary of our 'justice system'

[undeadentropy]

Listen I'm not go into the issues with show itself because thats not my field and i really dont care, but Rick and Morty really did go off when they found a way to condense capitalism down to a simple, radicalizing phrase that outgrew its debut episode and escaped into our vernacular. Slavery with extra steps.

[darthgabius]

Event: Magical Menagerie Gift Exchange 2024

Main ship: Sirius Black x Severus Snape

Side ships: Bellatrix x Lily | James x Narcissa

Rating: T+

Word count: 8,995 (complete)

Tags: Fantasy AU, Magic Systems, Fluff, Romcom, Rivals to Lovers, Magical Items

Gift to: @fiendishfyre

Summary: Every year eager apprentices and their renowned masters gather at the Hogsmeade Yuletide Fair in order to showcase their advancements to the people of the land. So, it should come to no one’s surprise—really—that one Sirius Black would find this to be the perfect opportunity to test out his latest creation. Nor should anyone be shocked—at all—that Severus Snape ends up having a terrible day.

Notes: This was my first time ever writing for this ship and I hope I’ve done them justice, both Severus and Sirius are amongst my favorites so I have a ton of love for them ❤️💚 to get into their mood/dynamic I completely immersed myself in the stunning starprince artwork from incredibly talented artist @intotheswollenriver (I swear this artist is the backbone of this ship) 😮‍💨🪭

READ IT FOR FREE ON AO3

Excerpt below

Because Severus’ life is anything but uncomplicated, it doesn’t take longer than seven minutes once they set foot in Hogsmeade for their group to cross paths with the miscreant apprentices of Dumbledore.

A stupid grin breaks on James Potter’s face as he notices their group—more specifically, Lily.

Sirius Black, as always, is smirking in that infuriating way of his. Long black hair, that rivals Bellatrix’s, tied up in a ponytail.

Much to Severus’ chagrin, he stands three inches taller than him. With impeccable robes and boots, as one would expect of any member of House Black.

His smirk grows as he notices Severus staring.

“There’s a painter next to our booth, we can commission him a portrait of me if you want, Snivelus.” Red, it’s red all over his vision. “But I gotta tell you, I’m a bit of a jealous type, dunno how I feel about sharing a spot above your bed next to your Riddle love-notes.”

If Severus is not careful, he’ll break his project with how hard he’s squeezing the ceramic shaker in his hands.

“Stop being mean, Sirius.” It’s Bellatrix who answers, and the shift in the other Black is immediate, his smirk transforming into a more genuine smile. “Also, Severus doesn’t have any love-notes written about our master hanging above his bedding, that’s just ridiculous.”

Black laughs and raises his hands in defeat.

Before the cousins can say anymore, Potter opens his big mouth.

“Hey Lily! Looking lovely as always, I love that, what’s that? Er—snake and flower embroidery on your robes.” Daft as he is, he doesn’t seem to notice how the temperature seems to drop even lower than what it already is.

“Thank you, James.” Lily’s smile is friendly, but polite. “I made it myself.” And the boy obviously misses how the same exact pattern—a snake wrapped around a lily flower—is also embroidered to Bellatrix’s black robes.

“That’s so amazing, you’re amazing—” Potter laughs. “What are you up to anyway? Would you like to—”

A few things happen simultaneously.

Black sighs like someone who’s about to witness something he doesn’t want to and Bellatrix steps in front of Lily, blocking Potter’s view. A smile that doesn’t even pretend to be anything but predatory widens in her striking face.

“Oh, hello James, it’s lovely to see you.” And she continues speaking over his confused ‘Hey… Bellatrix,’ “Did you hear the news? Apparently Lucius wants to court my sister, and as a matter of fact I think he just told us he was taking her on a walk, isn’t that right, Lilian?” Bellatrix doesn’t look back at Lily, whose green eyes widen for just a second before she slowly nods.

“Yes, Bella, to the rose garden with the mistletoe canopy.” The color drains from James Potter’s face.

“What,” he says dumbly.

“Oh yes, and you know how Cissy is, ever so the dutiful daughter,” Severus mentally scoffs, if there’s something Narcissa isn’t, it’s dutiful. But of all the Black children, she’s the only one who’s got Bellatrix fooled.

Narcissa plays her part perfectly, but at the end of the day she does whatever she wants.

“She would never say no to Lucius… you know there’s been talk about their marriage since they were babies,” she continues. “Just the other day Nicola was telling my mother how she couldn’t wait for more blonde haired Malfoy children to run around the Manor.”

Women are devious creatures, thinks Severus as he watches James Potter, with all color drained from him, sprint away from their group.

Lucius is secretive, but it’s hard to keep a big secret in Master Riddle’s workshop. They all know Malfoy’s been meeting with Evan’s cousin, Pandora, since the summer solstice.

And Severus knows Narcissa enjoys giving Potter a hard time. She told him once, “He’s young, he needs to get his impatience out of his system before I give him a third of my attention—Potter gets bored, only boys get bored,” with a small smirk.

Women.

“Sirius.” The eldest Black says in a warning tone.

“Bellatrix.” He responds nonchalantly.

“I told you that you should be more discerning of your company.”

“James is a great guy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And before her temper starts acting up, Black pulls his cousin into a hug and kisses her cheek sweetly. The elder girl nearly disappears as she’s engulfed by his brutish form.

She’s soon laughing and chastising him, but with no bite.

There’s a total of five people who can handle Bellatrix without her being aware of it: Master Riddle, her grandfather, Sirius, Narcissa and Lily.

Severus sometimes wonders what would happen if she were to ever become aware of it.

“So, where’s Reggie?” Asks Black as he herds his cousin to a slow-paced walk. His long arm hung over her shoulder. To anyone walking, they could pass off as twins.

It’s the small weight of Lily’s hand on his forearm that stops him from silently slipping away from the nightmare-ish company.

“Let’s go, Sev?” Lily’s green eyes are kind, her freckles less pronounced with the colder season.

[CONTINUE READING ON AO3]

Note: this scene is not the beginning of the oneshot!

[a-dragons-journal]

Could you talk more about the moral code of your religion? Is there a set list of tenets?

>< I actually took a stab at writing down a firm set of Mithraic values a while back, so here’s those:

Honesty: Your word is your bond. Never break a solemn vow. Keep your tongue honest when dealing with those who have been fair to you and yours. Never speak a lie to a fellow follower of Mithras.

Justice: In all things act with fairness, and mete out reward and punishment in accordance with the actions that earn them. Actions lead to consequences, both positive and negative. It is just to reward the faithful, the honorable, and the good. It is just to punish the liar, the traitor, and the thief. Act with fairness and obey the laws laid down by teaching, by temple, and by priest.

Guardianship: Protect those within your care as the shepherd guards the sheep. Protect those you have the ability to protect; accept the protection of those stronger than you. Guide those you have the ability to guide; heed the guidance of those wiser than you.

I don’t know if anyone’s ever really written these down quite this firmly, but it makes for a useful summary, so I’m doing it. I will also say that these are ideals to live up to; no one is perfect, and the tenet of justice is especially, uh, challenging to uphold when you’re A Guy and not The Justice System. But you can do your best to act fairly, reward good behavior when you see it, and maybe take opportunities to bring justice down on wrongdoers if you spot a chance to, even if that justice is sometimes petty. It’s more about not letting shit slide than anything. (It’s also a significantly bigger deal when you’re living in a society of vampires, who tend to skew more amoral and immoral than the general populace.)

There’s also a less explicit value of community - helping and supporting each other and forming community bonds. It’s not explicitly something demanded by the teachings, but it’s a pretty natural extrapolation from them, and it’s also kept our clan alive and prosperous. Personally, I extend that to the vampiric community at large, partially because leading by example is my preferred method of showing the other clans the good of Mithraism and partially because I simply think it’s right to try to reach out to others, but that’s not universal; a lot of Mithraics feel no particular obligation to vampires outside the clan, given that they’re doctrinally considered traitors to Mithras.

Also, I love your avatar. xD

—Roshan (fae/faer)

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Adult, Mystery Thriller

Rating: 4 out of 5

Content Warning: Murder, Domestic abuse, Death, Child abuse, Animal death, Animal cruelty

Summary:

A work of literary suspense that deconstructs the story of a serial killer on death row, told primarily through the eyes of the women in his life.

Ansel Packer is scheduled to die in twelve hours. He knows what he’s done, and now awaits execution, the same chilling fate he forced on those girls, years ago. But Ansel doesn’t want to die; he wants to be celebrated, understood. He hoped it wouldn’t end like this, not for him.

Through a kaleidoscope of women—a mother, a sister, a homicide detective—we learn the story of Ansel’s life. We meet his mother, Lavender, a seventeen-year-old girl pushed to desperation; Hazel, twin sister to Ansel’s wife, inseparable since birth, forced to watch helplessly as her sister’s relationship threatens to devour them all; and finally, Saffy, the homicide detective hot on his trail, who has devoted herself to bringing bad men to justice but struggles to see her own life clearly. As the clock ticks down, these three women sift through the choices that culminate in tragedy, exploring the rippling fissures that such destruction inevitably leaves in its wake.

*Opinions*

This was another read influenced by social media since I first heard about it while someone talking about this novel on their YouTube channel. It sounded fascinating and since it was available on Libby (support your local library), I gave it a try. This is a beautifully written novel that looks into how violence affects not only the one that inflicts it on others but also the ripple effect it has on so many other people. There is also an examination, through the point of view’ of the women in this novel, about how our fascination with death usually disregards those who are murdered to focus on the killers. How many serial killers can you name off the top of your head, but not their victims?  There are also comments on the criminal justice system, the death penalty, and justice. 

This book is beautifully written and while it is marketed as a mystery thriller, I would say that it is more closely a literary crime novel. You start the novel knowing who the killer is and while the story unfolds to tell you what crimes he commits, I don’t think it is mysterious or thrilling. What keeps the tension in the novel is the countdown to the execution and how everything is going to unfold in the multiple storylines that are converging due to violence. While there are lines and a couple of scenes in this novel that are going to stick out to me (the fox scene in particular) I don’t think this story is going to stay with me after a year. There is nothing wrong with the writing, the pacing, or the plot, it just didn’t grip me enough to want to add it to my collection. 

I appreciate that Kukafka gives up Ansel’s point of view in the second person, putting us in league with the murderer. It serves multiple purposes, but the one I find most interesting is that it makes us complicit with Ansel’s thoughts and actions. That itself is a comment on the true crime obsession, about how we are so interested and fascinated by their thoughts and motivations. Kukafka also contrasts with Ansel’s belief that he is brilliant and so much better than everyone else and the women who have to interact with him. Who hasn’t met a man who thinks that his thoughts are new and original when he is just regurgitating something he has heard before? I think the second person also speaks to Ansel’s lack of feeling, removing himself from being responsible for his feelings or actions.

All the women in this novel are complicated, well-rounded, and real. They are not perfect and sometimes they aren’t even likable, but their decision and thoughts make sense. I particularly liked Saffron’s point of view and how one item in her childhood followed her for so long, making her obsessed and causing her to make mistakes. The fact that the focus of all their sections was on how men failed them and how their relationship to other women defined them. Hazel and Jenny, Lavender and the women in her circle, and Saffron with the women that keep her sane with her job. They are given more personality than Ansel, are more reliable narrators, and show the violence in the world for women but also the lies that Ansel is telling the readers in his sections of the novel. 

There are a lot of moral questions in this novel, about whether Ansel could be different or if any of the actions in the novel could have changed the outcome is one of them. While interesting to think about, it is not a new thought exercise. That is kind of the point, that Ansel’s ideas about the multiverse and his Theory, are nothing new. However, it also takes away some of the impact of the story. Letting go of ‘what ifs’ is a great bit of advice for everyday life, but in a fiction novel, it kind of makes everything fall a little flat. I appreciated that Kukafka makes statements about how the system is stacked against individuals who are not white cis males, but I don’t think it goes further than some statements. I also don’t think that the idea about the death penalty really goes in-depth either. I am not saying that this is a problem, this is a fiction novel after all, but if you are looking for a deep dive into these ideas, you will be disappointed.  

This is a four-star read, but it will not be stuck in my head for a while. I would recommend this for people who are trying to get into the mystery or thriller genre if they are more of a literary fiction reader or as a palate cleanser from reading other genres. 

[riszellira]

Reflection: Forgive—It Is Divine

Jesus’ Apostles and some women accompanied Him in His ministry. Among the women mentioned were Magdalene, from whom seven demons had come out, and two others named Joanna and Susanna. They took care of Jesus and the Apostles as they went about their mission. Magdalene was already considered a living dead before she met Jesus. A woman without a husband, and a prostitute at that, was condemned for good in a patriarchal society. But when she decided to follow Him, she was given a new lease of life—earthly and heavenly. Hers is a perfect testament to God’s mercy and compassion, and of man’s capacity to change through hope in Jesus.

Our present situation aches for this truth. It used to be unthinkable to know and see our people being killed extrajudicially. Our laws provide opportunities to render justice and rehabilitation. Both had been eliminated in summary executions. A dead person is already deprived of another chance. We should be alarmed not only of the wanton use of power but also the developing, if not already present, beastly attitudes of the perpetrators of these dastardly acts.

The Catholic faith is a faith of second chances. Our God is a God of forgiveness. Jesus preached repentance because God is merciful and compassionate. Christians are expected to do the same. That is why it is a surprise to know fellow Christians approving, praising, and even supporting the killing of people involved with illegal drugs and other crimes. We favor a war on illegal drugs but not the killings. Even if people are killed by drug addicts, we ought to resist dealing with them in the same way. Otherwise, we are no different from them who we hate in the first place. Our laws and even our faith allows justice. We should let our laws operate against the criminals. Unfortunately, our systems, enforcement, legal and penal, are tainted with corruption, discrimination, and patronage. Nevertheless, summary killings are illegal and immoral.

Let us try to see the face of God in each person, or at least regard them as we do ourselves. That way, we will be more patient, understanding, and forgiving. “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” 

Fr. Benny Tuazon

How do you regard sinners in our society? Do you condemn them for good?

Help me, Lord, to always seek Your face in each person that I meet. Amen.

Prayer

… for a deep and profound respect for life especially for the unborn.

… for the strength and healing of the sick.

… for the healing and peace of all families.

Finally, we pray for one another, for those who have asked our prayers and for those who need our prayers the most.

God bless!

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || six: why does everyone monologue so much

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: shigaraki makes a mistake (kidnaps a Child™), a grandpa knocks out dabi and upsets you, then shit goes sideways and you're kinda homeless again but not really

content: aaaaangst?

word count: 1788

a/n: couldn't find a good enough gif for dabi so we've got the asshole thumb thumb lookin fucker instead

*previously known as “we can’t fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)”; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they’re just being overall menaces

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“I’ll ask you one more time, aspiring hero, Bakugo Katsuki… will you join me?”

You had to withhold a laugh at Shigaraki’s question. He really thinks kidnapping this kid and chaining him up will win his favour? 

“If you’re gonna talk in your sleep, you should just go to sleep and die,” Bakugo snarled. You did laugh at that. 

“I think you just got owned by a kid, boss.” You grinned, disregarding Shigaraki’s withering glare. Dabi elbowed you and mouthed ‘not the time’. 

Shigaraki turned his attention to the T.V., where Eraserhead was giving a statement on the Villain’s attack and Bakugo’s kidnapping. After a few minutes, he looked back at Bakugo. 

“It’s so strange…” he said. “Why are the heroes being criticised? The way they were dealing with things was just a little off the mark. Is it because it’s their job to protect? Everyone makes a mistake or two. Are they supposed to be perfect? Modern-day heroes are so uptight. Don’t you think, Bakugo?”

“Once heroes receive compensation to protect people, they aren’t heroes anymore,” Spinner added. “That is Stain’s teaching.”

“Many of your so-called ‘heroes’ only protect those who fit their beliefs,” you said softly, “and disregard the suffering of those they deem lesser or unworthy. Are they really heroes then?”

Shigaraki began again, “The strange system of transforming people’s lives into money or glory. The society that sticks tight to those rules. The citizens who blame the losers rather than encourage them. Our fight is to question: what is a hero? What is justice? Is this society truly just? We’ll have everybody thinking about it. We’re planning on winning.” He trained his eye on Bakugo, and asked with a tilt of his head, “you like winning, too, right?”

Bakugo’s glare sharped. You stepped back slightly, not trusting the look on the kid’s face.

“Dabi, release his restraints.” Shigaraki pointed at the boy. Dabi turned to their leader.

“Huh? This guy’s gonna fight, you know.” 

Shigaraki shrugged. “It’s fine. We need to treat him like an equal, since we’re scouting him. Besides, you can tell if you’ll win or not if you fight in this situation, right, U.A. student?”

Dabi huffed, then glanced at Twice. “Twice, you do it.” You snickered. He glared at you, as if daring you to comment. You chose not to.

“What, me? No way!” Twice jumped.

“Do it.”

“Man…” He walked over and began to fiddle with the restraints. As he did that, Compress spoke up.

“I do apologise for using such forceful methods. But please understand that we are not just a mob trying to commit crimes. We didn’t kidnap you by accident.”

Shigaraki got up and approached Bakugo, who was massaging his wrists. “Even though our situations differ, everyone here has been restricted and suffered because of people… rules… and heroes. I’m sure you also—” He stopped speaking when Bakugo kicked Twice away and lunged towards him, setting off an explosion and knocking Father off of his face.

“Shigaraki!”

“I listened quietly to your endless talking… idiots can’t get to the point, so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically, you mean ‘we wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right? Don’t bother.” Bakugo stood straight and grinned. “I want to win like All Might. No matter what anyone says, that will never change!”

Dabi moved slightly to shield you as everyone took up defensive positions in case the kid decided to fight. It was then that you noticed Shigaraki’s unnerved expression as he eyed the hand now on the floor. “Father…”

Bakugo took up a fighting stance, his grin even wider. “That’s how it is, you damn scum of a league! Just so you know, I’m still allowed to fight!”

“You know exactly what your position is, huh? What a smart boy!” Magne almost sounded impressed. 

Dabi, on the other hand, was the opposite. He looked bored and slightly annoyed. “No, he’s an idiot.”

Toga clapped her hands together. “I’ll stick you!”

“Even if he wasn’t going to join us, he should have pretended we were winning him over… he’s done it now,” Compress mused. You agreed—that would’ve been the smart thing to do.

“I won’t do something I don’t want to even if I’m only faking it. And I don’t wanna be in an annoying place like this for very long.”

“We aren’t annoying,” you snapped at him. “If anything, you are, ya damn brat. Talk at a normal volume, will you?” Dabi elbowed you again to get you to quiet down.

Shigaraki’s hand twitched. “Father…”

“Don’t, Shigaraki Tomura! Calm down!” Kurogiri said frantically, readying to stop him from attacking Bakugo.

Instead of fighting, he held his arm out. “Don’t touch him, any of you.” Shigaraki picked up Father from the floor. “This guy…” he began as he placed the hand back onto his face, “...is a valuable piece. I wish you would’ve listened to me a little. I thought we could come to an understanding.”

“Come to an understanding? No way!”

“Then I have no choice. The heroes said they’re continuing their investigation of us. We don’t have time to talk leisurely.” Shigaraki turned towards the T.V.. “Sensei—lend me your power.”

“Sensei? You’re not the boss around here? That’s not funny!” Bakugo hissed.

“Kurogiri, Compress, make him go to sleep again.”

Compress sighed as he moved towards the boy, “I can’t believe he’s such a bad listener. I’m almost impressed.”

“If you want me to listen to you, then get on your knees and die!”

Before Compress could activate his Quirk, there was a knock at the door. “Hello, this is Pizza-la, Camino store.” A beat passed, before the wall Spinner was leaning against burst and heroes swarmed.

“Smash!”

“Kurogiri, gate!” Shigaraki shouted. 

“Pre-emptive binding—” Wooden vines wrapped around the League members, preventing Kurogiri from activating his Quirk, “—Lacquered Chain Prison!”

You yelped in pain as the vines restricted around you, aggravating your arthritis. Dabi snarled at that, flames lighting up on him. “Watch what you’re doing, hero!” Before he could do anything, another hero kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

“Dabi!” You panicked, thrashing around. “Shit, Dabi—”

“—don’t be impatient. It’d be in your best interests to stay put.”

All Might glared at the League, ignoring their protests and discomfort. “You can’t run anymore, League of Villains! Why? Because we are here!” He then stood and turned to Bakugo. “I’m sure you were scared… you did good bearing it. I’m sorry. It’s fine now, young man!”

You zoned out after that, your focus solely on Dabi’s wellbeing. It wasn’t until Shigaraki began to get up that you snapped back to reality.

“—justice, peace… I’ll destroy this garbage heap that you put a lid on with such vague ideas! It was for that purpose that I set All Might apart and started gathering people to my cause! Don’t be ridiculous. This is the beginning… Kurogiri—!” He began, but stopped his order as something pierced through Kurogiri, causing the warp-gate user to slump over.

“No, stop! I couldn’t see anything! What, did you kill him?!” Magne shrieked, shaking her head around. 

The “something” that pierced Kurogiri moved in front of her. “I played around with his insides and made him unconscious. He is not dead.”

“Fucker, you could’ve hurt him!” You shouted. “You don’t just play around inside of people, you freak!” The hero ignored you, only proving to further your anger.

The old man that knocked Dabi out spoke, “Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interests to stay put? Hikiishi Kenji, Sako Atushiro, Iguchi Shuichi, Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin, L/N Y/N. With little information and time, the police officers worked through the night to determine your true identities. Do you understand? There’s nowhere left for you to run.

“Hey Shigaraki, can I ask you where your boss is?” The old man finished. 

You rolled your eyes. Always running their mouths, always grandstanding… I hate heroes. 

When All Might questioned Shigaraki, he began to spiral. You itched to reach out and comfort him before he went too far. Nausea built up in your throat.

Black pools popped up all around the bar, and Nomus began to spill out—sending the heroes into a panic. When one of the pools erupted from Bakugo’s mouth, All Might rushed to grab him, but wasn’t fast enough and shouted in frustration when he disappeared.

You realised the nausea wasn’t from your anxiety as soon as you, and the rest of the League, started to gag up the strange substance as well. It swirled around each of the members, and you all disappeared as well. 

You had teleported to a destroyed section of a building, with Boo and Nugget appearing as well. You tucked Nugget into your shirt and Boo under your arm, then scrambled to Dabi’s side. “Dabi, Dabi, wake up, please!” Your voice was strained from panic and the pain caused from the hero’s binding having been too tight. You registered that All Might had arrived, and that Shigaraki’s Sensei was preparing to fight him, but ignored everything around you—until red vines shot out from his fingers and into Kurogiri, waking him back up. 

“Kurogiri, get everyone away from here.”

Magne rushed forward. “Hey, wait! He was defeated and is now unconscious! I’m not sure what’s going on, but if you can use Warp, then you should get us away!”

“I just got mine, Magne. On top of only being able to transport short distances, unlike his coordinate transport, I can only bring people to or away from me. I can only send them away to someone I am very familiar with. So I’ll have Kurogiri do it. Forced Quirk Activation!” The mist covering Kurogiri exploded into a warp gate. “Now go!”

“What about you…?” Shigaraki protested.

“Think constantly, Tomura,” All For One said as he rose into the air. “You still have much more room to grow.”

“Sensei!” 

“Shigaraki, we need to leave,” you begged, biting back a groan of pain as you stood. You held on tighter to Boo to make sure she wouldn’t wiggle away.

Compress agreed as he used his Quirk to shrink Dabi. “While All Might is being held back, get your piece! Y/N, you need to go—you can’t fight, and that guy’s vines hurt you. Take Dabi and get through the gate. Do you need help moving?” He pressed the blue marble into your free hand.

You shook your head. “No, I can manage. Thank you, Compress.” You smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “Make sure everyone gets out safely, please.” 

With Boo, Nugget and Dabi safely on you, you stumbled through the warp gate, leaving the sound of fighting behind.

[roonyxx]

Stolen Crown Chapter 6: Between the Sheets

By @jay-and-dean and @roonyxx

Pairings : Dean x reader ? Kight!Dean x reader ?

Summary :  What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

This, as much as it looks like it, is not ‘technically’ an AU, because your Dean, our Dean, exists too…

Serie Warnings : Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain. Each Chapter will have detailed warnings.

Chapter warnings : Fluff, little bit of angst, Smut

Chapter Word count : 4767

Note : This is a collaboration between both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Text divider by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Stolen Crown Masterlist

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

She dances. 

         Alone in her room, half naked, she dances to songs that only exist in her head here. Songs she remembers skipping so often on the radio because she likes nothing more than rock, and still…

         In that castle, between stone walls, the music she misses now is some of this sexy mainstream electro thing her world can do so well, something with maybe a latin rhythm, a song she could play loud in Dean’s car to make him grumpy.

         She barely slept and kept thinking about everything Dean said -that armor and fur bearded version of Dean- what he said with such certainty. And, waiting in her bed or swaying to the silent music, she missed her Dean, his smile, his little habits and the jokes he makes…

She thinks about what she knows : She loves Dean, her Dean, her hero, everything he does, every one of his little habits, with all her heart ; and the queen loves hers just the same way. She also knows the knight loves his queen passionately. And yet…

Even the idea is appealing, that can’t mean that her Dean has this kind of feelings for her. Not Dean, it’s ridiculous. He never showed anything like this, and she is far from being a queen, right ? 

It can’t be as simple as that anyway…

         She holds her own body in her arms like she was dancing with someone and moves her hips the best she can, like she was Shakira or any of those perfect women that could deserve a man like the one she yearns for. 

         In her head, Dean is here. Wearing flannel and his big boots, hands on his jeans, light scruff at his cheeks. He’s watching her like the men look at the pretty girl dancing in the music videos and a ray of sun from this radiant morning is hitting his beautiful smug face.

         She’s smiling for herself, trying so hard to forget about everything now, focusing on the song in her head, trying to remember the Impala’s smell and the feeling of Dean’s short hair through her fingers. 

She is doing this to survive. Home is far, and there is a chance she never sees it again. There is a chance music is lost forever, beer too, the impala and chocolate… There is a chance her friends, and him, are lost forever.

So she sways her hips to give herself a moment of peace. She just dances.

         But just the moment she is finally starting to feel in a soft carefree transe, bringing the man she loves so much closer in her dizzy mind, the heavy door loudly opens and the maids freeze at seeing her holding herself in her undergarment.

         And just like that, the moment dies. 

“Your Majesty ?” the noble Head calls her during the Council. 

And even if her mind is still invaded by Dean and blurry with the lack of sleep, she answers. 

“I am not agreeing to such measures” she states calmly. “That would destabilize the balance of the powers between the army and the justice system. If Justice makes us unfair, then it has to be changed, and not our hearts.”

She learned that from the man she loves. Fate or not, God or not, world order or not… If it doesn’t feel right, it has to be changed. If Dean Winchester can defy every plan of Heaven and Hell, she can change unfair laws.

In this world like in her own, he makes her stronger. 

She sits in that throne with a very different state of mind now. She holds the kingdom’s reins for the queen, for the knight, she holds on for herself and for what’s fair. 

She is not just faking anymore, she is ruling. For love, she is ruling.

She pushes a thin strand of her hair that got free from her crown, and looks at Sam from her higher seat, putting her hand on the arm of her throne again. 

“I demand that the Men of Letters work on a reform of that Justice will all depend on, and expound it to the honorable Council. How long shall it take, sir Winchester ?”

“I…” Sam thinks. “A deep reforming of that part of our Laws would be a colossal amount of work, your Majesty. I would dare ask for three months.”

She turns to the knight standing at her right for a split second, just needing to feel his charisma wrapping her to keep her back straight and chin high, then to the people in the back of the room.

“I give you two months” she states, making Sam nod. “I count on you.”

“Reforming Justice ?” Dean whispers next to her before he takes a piece of bread. 

She looks up, searching the diner room for hostile looks but nobody seems suspicious anymore. 

“I am the queen” she states. 

“You are not” he murmurs. 

Turning to him, she lets her eyes enjoy the perfection of his face. 

“Do you disagree with my decision ?” she asks.

“It is not my place to agree or disagree” he says low, ripping a piece of chicken from the bone in his plate. 

“Your place is to obey, and I asked a question.”

His eyes come up to meet hers. 

“Not because you are getting incredibly good at this role, I forget anything” but as she doesn’t move, waiting for an answer, he sighs. “I agree with your decision, as usual, your Majesty.”

“Do you think the queen would ?”

“Well you think like my Queen, do you not ?” he says with a kind smile. 

She thinks like the queen indeed, and she loves Dean like the queen loves him. In each and every word he pronounces, she can tell he is thinking of this every second that passes. Just like she can’t stop thinking of his words.

He is in love with you.

Once again, her heart flutters with hope just for an instant -the hundredth since he pronounced those words- before every rational thought crushes this nonsense.

“I do think like the queen” she smiles. “I was right about the shirt.”

“You were.”

A frown appears on his confused face, like he just couldn’t process his beloved queen holding his stolen shirt at night, smelling his and snuggling into it.

“And I am right about you having to become king” she chuckles behind her cup of wine. 

His green eyes widen and he looks around. 

“Do not say that in public !” he whispers angrily, only making her smile a little more.

His face turns a little grumpy in a very, slightly amused, specific way, and her heart breaks. 

He looks like Dean. 

The knight always looks like Dean, yet, usually, the tiny differences between them are enough to make her remember who he isn’t… But that expression is Dean. It is him, the love of her life, his face is screaming it. 

A strand of his longer hair falls on his forehead in a little crook but she can’t unsee the man she misses now. As hard as she tries, Dean seems to be looking back at her. 

“Your face has the prettiest shape” she whispers. “It would deserve to be visible.”

His eyes search her features. 

“My face ?”

She looks down, taking grapes, to hide the intimacy of their conversation between the casual diner going on. 

“Dean shaves his beard shorter than yours” she states with her love strangling her. “Is it a knight rule or anything ?”

He keeps staring at her, and even she is aware no one is supposed to look at the queen like that. After a long second he finally answers.

“No.”

         Finally, her favorite moment of the day. 

         She sits on her huge fluffy bed, getting relaxed by the warm light of the fireplace, looking at the place of the mattress that she knows hides the knight’s shirt.

         How many nights the queen must have waited to take it, sad that it was slowly losing his smell. 

How did she even got it ? In this world, people don’t own a lot of clothes, and it must, for sure, have been harder for the queen to get it, than it was for her to just make a shirt or a henley disappear during laundry day…

Curious, she bends, strangled by the corset tirelessly compressing her lungs, and takes the piece of cloth from its precious hiding place. 

It is a large whitish shirt, with little ropes on the front. She looks at it with a smile, imagining Dean in it, looking so romantic like in movies. 

She buries her face in it. It doesn’t really have a smell anymore but the idea that it was against his chest just makes her comfortable for a moment… Comfortable enough to forget this is not, in fact, the right Dean’s shirt.

The big door opens a little and the knight sneaks in discreetly, before closing it cautiously. In a guilty jump, she lets it fall on her knees and looks up.

“I…” she clears her throat. “I didn’t think you could come tonight.”

He looks at her, then at the shirt on her lap, making her ears burn.

Something is different about him. He looks like… He looks like Dean ! Is she becoming crazy ? Seeing what she needs the most like a mirage !

“I did not think it would be possible either” he states with his hands on his back, leaving a long silence fills the room before he speaks agan. “Do you miss him that much ?”

“Wait” she understands what was bothering her. “Did you shave ?”

His body answers for him : His tongue comes to moist his plumb lips and his pretty eyes meet the floor. 

“I wanted to try” he says shyly.

Her breath wants to get deep, but the dress she is wearing, and the million of emotions she’s feeling are making it impossible. 

“You look even more like him” she states, getting up to put the shirt under the mattress again. “It’s… confusing.”

         The knight walks a little closer in the large room, putting his sword on the biggest table, by the wooden door. 

         Her mind is playing tricks for the first time since she got here, making him her Dean, in a costume maybe… Noticing the strength of his thighs under those pants, the width of his shoulders…

“There is something I do not fully understand” he says, breaking the deep silence. “You keep saying that in your world, people are free to be with whoever they like so… Why have you never been with him ?”

She swallows hard, tugging at the ropes in her lower back as she can, dreaming of getting free of that dress.

“I told you” she states. “He doesn’t want me.”

“But you want him.”

“Yes, but… He has to want it too” she frowns.

“Even if he does not love you, which I do not believe a second… You also said that people could just lay together without marriage” he shrugs. “So why not asking for a night with him ?”

Her eyes widen for a second before she starts laughing. 

“Wait” she chuckles. “You’re saying I should just ask for sex ? I can’t do that !”

“Why not ?” he asks with a confused look on his face.

She sighs, and starts untying her hair in a grunt.

“Would you, if the queen asked for it ?”

“My Queen would not…”

“Cut the crap” she cuts him. “She needs your smell to sleep, she certainly even touched herself in the best places thinking of your hips between her thighs.”

“H-” he tries to protest, apparently too flustered to find his words. “When you yearn for him, is that what you do ?”

She blushes more and rubs her face. 

“Yes…. I know what you think : filthy, sin, unholy and shit…” she looks away from his heavy glare, touching her hair like it could make her brave. “You have to understand, I imagine him in every kind of circumstances, holding me, dancing with me, looking at me. I imagined him saving me a thousand times since I got lost… And, yes, when I feel the urge to caress… myself… I also imagine his hand. It’s not dirty, it’s love.”

“I fight it” he sighs with a defeated tone. 

“Fight it ?”

“When I… When I find myself in the arms of a pretty maid, when I give in to my…” he searches her face, like he was genuinely trying to find comfort or advices. “I do not want to have unholy thoughts about her Majesty… I just… Sometimes I close my eyes and wonder if her… core would be soft and w-warm, I… For God’s sake forgive me, I…”

When she sees him struggling with his confession, ready to take it all back and leave, she walks to him, putting a soft reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“No, De- Sir, it’s really normal.”

“You said you shared a house with D-Dean” he stammers on his name, confused by the whole situation.

“I do.”

“And that you were close friends” he finishes. “So I get you get to laugh with him or take his hand when the days are dark.”

At his word, she cautiously takes his hand, and notices he is trembling. 

“Much more than that actually” she admits. “It happens that I fall asleep in his arms on a couch, or share a bed during a hunt…”

His eyes trace her face with an intensity that makes her shiver, and the irregular light of the fire seems to make his eyelashes dance. 

“I am not allowed to touch her hand” he states, looking down at her fingers around his palm. “I am barely allowed to look at her most of the time. I… I do not know how her skin feels.”

At his words, she shivers, imagining a world where Dean would be that unapproachable.

         A log falls in the fireplace, changing the light slightly. The knight’s jaw is clenched, and his breathing is a little faster than she has ever seen it. 

         Maybe if he knew… Maybe if he broke the walls in his head that makes her that sacred, he would just allow himself to talk to her. 

         In a gentle move, she lifts his hand, making him look up at her face with questions in his eyes. 

“Just let me” she whispers, putting her lips softly to his knuckles to put a kiss here. “There, is that how you imagined it ?” she says against his skin. 

But he doesn’t answer, his burning green eyes are staring at her lips on his freckled hand like it was some kind of breathtaking miracle. 

“Touch my shoulder” she asks. 

“I…”

Seeing his hesitation, she guides his fingers to the point where her shoulder joins her neck.

“Doesn’t she feel human ?” she murmurs, shivering at his touch. 

“My Queen” he sighs under his breath.

“Dean” she almost whines. “I miss you so much…”

Saying that, she comes closer, putting her body against him, and her face in his neck, to imagine her hero has finally returned and is holding her. 

         The knight hesitates, his body tensing like he was going to throw her away for a second, like he was going to get furious… But she is not afraid of him.

“Hold me, please” she begs. “Just a hug… Hold me.”

And so he does.

         His strong arms wrap around her tighter than expected, gripping her back with his burning hands.

         When a knock on the door resonates, the knight jumps out of her arms and goes hide in the dark of the room. 

“My Queen ?” a maid asks through the door. “May I change you for the night ?”

“I did it myself !” she lies, not wanting Dean to leave.

“Well have a great night, my Queen.”

She waits for a second, watching at the door like it could burst open, and when she turns again to tell the Knight it is safe again, she finds him right next to her.

His pupils are blown wide, staring at her with an expression that she has never received before from such green eyes, it is lust and passion.

His big, slightly trembling hand comes up to cup her cheek.

“Y-Y/n, my Queen” he whispers on a shallow breath, like he has been holding it for years.

She leans into his touch and sighs.

“My Dean” her hand comes up to cup his against her face. 

She looks up at him through her eyelashes and catches him looking at her lips with a deep desire, a desire she will probably never see again, not on her Dean at least.

“Kiss me” she whispers to the strong knight, standing up on her tiptoes and cupping his face with both her hands, trying to pull him closer to her. 

She can feel him resisting.

“Please Dean…” she begs him.

“I-I can’t… I won’t be able to stop” his voice is wavering, she can hear the battle inside his head, the rational thoughts against the sinful ones.

“I don’t want you to stop” she pleads with him.

“I…” she can feel his breath fanning over her face, she tilts her chin up to brush her lips over his.

A growl vibrates through his chest when he pulls her flush against him and presses his lips on hers, with an eagerness she has never tasted before. She wraps her hands around his neck and winds her fingers through his hair. 

His tongue invades her mouth, exploring all of her for the first time. And she gets totally lost in him, lost on those lips she dreamed of for years.

His hands slide down his chest and she starts to tug at the leather and metal clasps. She moans loud as he kisses down her neck, his slight scruff scratching her sensitive skin.

“Dean…” she mewls, her hands still trying to find a way to his skin in the maze of furr, metal and leather.

With every breath she takes she can feel the constricting corset around her that steals oxygen from her lungs. She takes off her top dress. Revealing her tightly pressed cleavage to him.

His eyes widen and his hands are firm on her waist as a deep groan leaves his lips, he bends down to kiss the swell of her breasts that pools over the corset. She tilts her head back at the sensation and tugs at his hair.

“Take it off, now” she groans. “Please.”

“Yes my Queen” he hastily twists her around and puts both his hands in between the cords of the corset. 

He bends forward to bite at the shell of her ear, with a deep growl he rips open the corset and frees her. She takes a deep relieved breath as the constricting fabric falls to the floor.

His hands wrap around her body and come up to cup her boobs through the thin shift she is wearing. His face is pressed into her neck, kissing and licking.

“Finally” he groans.

He turns her back around and takes a brief pause to look at her.

“You are the most beautiful woman to have ever existed” his hands hold her by the waist.

She can feel her face heating up at the compliment and the way his eyes are gliding over her body.

Because she can feel his love, a love so strong that she thought only existed in the books. She can feel his desire warming the room, the castle, the whole world. 

Dean. Dean Winchester even if it isn’t the one she yearned for, Dean is looking at her like she was a miracle…

And her own love seems to be making her glow. Every cell of her skin shining with a burning desire, she stares back at him, panting slightly, free of the corset… free of hiding.

“Dean” she says as she puts her hands on his armored chest. “I want to see you, feel you, please.” 

He nods his head and works off his belt, the fur overcoat and chest plate soon follow. Her fingers find the strings of his leather shirt and unties them quickly so he can slip the shirt over his head and push his pants down his very muscular thighs.

They are both standing in their underwear now, chest heaving and eyes dark. She looks him in the eyes as she starts untying the very last cords of her shift, his eyes are fixated on her delicate fingers.

She drops the shift to the floor and sees him swallow hard. He drops on his knees in front of her and holds her hips, his face leans forward so he can kiss her stomach.

“My Queen, you are more beautiful than the sunset” he keeps kissing her stomach and her hand finds its way into his golden brown locks.

“Stand up Dean” she waits for him to stand up before she continues.

“Take off your clothes” she orders in what she doesn’t realize is her royal voice.

He simply nods and obeys her order, taking off his white shirt and underwear. Her eyes glide over his chest, and sees a familiar symbol, he also has the anti-possession tattoo. 

She steps closer to him and her fingers trace it, with a confused look.

“It is the Kingdom’s crest” he answers her unasked question.

She looks up at him with a smile and takes his hand to her hip where her own tattoo is. 

“In my world it is for protection” shivers run down her spin as his thumb runs over the small tattoo on her soft skin.

Her eyes inspect him further, how can she not, the man she dreamed of for years is naked in front of her, well almost him…

Her hands glide over the many thin scars and bumps, it reminds her of her Dean. For each scar she imagines another story how her warrior hunter must have earned it.

His hands glide up her sides, a little frown when he touches a long scar on the side of her ribs.

“I am a warrior” she states, “Your Queen won’t have as many scars as me.” 

“Your skin is so soft, even softer than I imagined” his voice is low and carries this tenderness in it she hasn’t heard before, it reminds her of her Dean when he is patching her up.

“I want you Dean” her hands glide down his broad shoulders and chest, over his strong stomach to his very hard cock and wraps her hand around him. “I need you.”

She can feel him twitching in her hand as he moans at the feeling. She starts to slowly pump him in her hand, enjoying his shape, weight and size, and imagining her Dean in her fingers, biting her lips.

His hand cups the back of her neck and pulls her closer for a passionate kiss, she can feel him letting go, she can feel the love in his kiss, the love he has for her.

He walks her back until the back of her knees hits her big bed behind her and drops down on it , making her let go of his impressive length. She watches him as he stands in front of it, his hand replacing hers around himself.

He looks at her with dark eyes as he pumps his cock like he couldn’t miss the friction for a second. 

Loving the effect she has on him more than anything on the world, she gives him a wicked smile and spreads her legs. Her hand goes down to caress her own folds. A little chuckle escapes her as she sees his eyes widen on her.

She bites her lip and pushes two digits inside her tight core and a moan of his name escapes her. 

“Dean…” suddenly she feels his strong fingers wrap around her wrist to pull her fingers out.

“I need you, now” he growls as he takes place between her legs.

She takes his cock and threads the head through her slick.

“Yes… P-Please” she’s panting already.

“I am here my love” he wraps his hand over hers on his cock and guides himself inside.

“O-Oh Lord…” a strangled groan brusts from his throat as he splits her open.

“F-Fuck De… Y-you’re” her eyes squeeze tight at the stretch of his girth. “S-so big.”

She takes a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of him. A little pain mixed with an intense pleasure, and the waves of ecstasy making her sweat. 

When she relaxes around him, her walls throbbing, it feels like he reaches places of her body she never felt before. 

“Y-you are rather tight, my Grace” he leans over her, caging her head between his arms as he bottoms out. 

She wraps her legs around his hips and pushes him even deeper.

“Take me Dean, m-make me yours, let go baby” she wraps her arms around his neck and holds him close, afraid that he’ll disappear.

He pulls all the way out, leaving just the tip in and slams back in her with a strangled groan. 

She moans loudly, head going back, mouth wide open. He quickly reaches out and covers her mouth with his big palm.

“Ssssh, my love. No one can hear us.” 

She nods under his hand as she understands the problems it would bring if they got caught.

He thrusts his ships again, a little less hard this time. But so deep inside her, he reaches spots no one ever did before, he feels like no one ever did, like love. 

She is biting his shoulder to keep quiet, teeth, lips and tongue as hungry for him as her core is, tasting him and testing his strength… She pulls him flush against her, his sweaty chest on her, skin rubbing skin in the most delicious way.

His thrusts become faster and she lifts her legs higher on his waist so he can go even deeper. 

“Y-Yes Dean… Fuck I’m s-so close.”

“I… me t-too” he moans into her ear, she can feel him redrawing but she wraps her legs tight around him, caging him.

“N-No inside me, p-please” her pussy walls are fluttering around his twitching length, ready to receive his cum.

He tries to resist a second, groaning in her neck, barely fighting her legs keeping him deep. He must never have let go this way, she knows that, but she needs it, she needs him completely. 

“Come baby” she insists.

At her words, he comes hard inside her, she can feel the ropes of cum shooting against her walls, painting her insides white.

“D-Dean.. Y-yes” she holds her breath to contain her loud moans when her orgasm hits her hard, but bites his shoulder when she fails to do so.

He buries his face in her neck, putting his lips around her skin but doesn’t bite nor suck, she thinks because he wouldn’t dare to mark his Queen.

“Y-Y/n…” he moans in her ear.

Panting, caressing each other’s sweaty skin, they come down. 

She strokes his back and lifts her head to see what she is feeling. His back is covered in many, thick white lines, deep scars that are the reminders of his horrible past, and of the danger they are in.

The whips…

Her hands stop and she swallows hard, a sharp pain reaching her heart. 

“No, please continue. It does not hurt anymore, please I need your touch” he pleads with her in a vulnerable voice.

“Yes…” she agrees. “Dean…” she continues in a hum of his sacred name.

After a few minutes of the most delicious silence, she feels him move and hesitate.

“What is it ?” she asks in a soft voice. 

“I… I am afraid of…”

“I can’t get pregnant” she cuts him. “I have something to control that.”

He frowns and looks up, searching her face.

“I will have to explain that to you” she smiles.

His hands caresses her side and his face falls in the crook of her neck again, his perfect plump lips leaving little kisses on her neck. And in the perfect transe of him, she feels herself finally relax totally, and her mind ease.

“Dean ?” she chants, almost sleepily. 

“Mh ?”

“Can you stay ?” she whispers, holding him.

“You are safe, my Queen” he states against her temple. “You can fall asleep. I am here.”

[nomtterwhere]

come back to me || marco peña x reader

a/n: now that we have an official announcement for kissing booth 3, i figured i’d finish this little fic that has been sitting in my drafts. i combined two requests because they were kind of similar and i had an idea that would work the both of them in. hope you guys like it!

request: @dystopianchic13 requested: “Going on a date and finding someone better after Elle!” and @mansaaay requested: “marco befriended a girl before the elle thirsting over marco incident, and the kissing booth, marco and the girl sorta start talking again?”

summary: when marco starts at your school, the two of you quickly become friends. but when elle gets involved, your relationship takes a turn for the worse...

word count: 4.4k

marco valentin peña.

newest school heartthrob, with good reason, and very quickly set to possibly be the most popular guy in school. and yet, here he was sitting and eating lunch with you and your friends.

it’s not that you weren’t well liked or anything, but you and your friend group were nowhere near the status of the omgs. and considering the way everyone talked about him from the moment he stepped into the building, you had assumed that would be the direction he would flock.

but alas, on his first day at this school, he ended up standing at your table, tray of food in hand. your friend nudged you until you looked up from your lunch and saw him standing there. up until this point you had only heard of marco. you hadn’t shared any classes with him earlier in the day but throughout all of them you could hear bits and pieces of conversation about how attractive this guy was. and now that he was standing in front of you, those comments didn’t do him enough justice.

he was wearing the same uniform everyone else was, but he had rolled his sleeves up so they just passed his elbows, drawing your attention almost immediately to his forearms. trailing your eyes up his body, your eyes followed along his broad shoulders and up the length of his neck, glancing at his strong jawline.

you made eye contact with him, your breath quite literally leaving your body. his brown eyes were kind and inviting, friendly even, as if you hadn’t just been shamelessly checking him out.

“um, hi.” you say.

he smiles at you, nods to the empty seat across from you. “hey, i was wondering if that seat was taken.”

oh god, his voice.

you try and ignore the pinch that quinn delivers to your thigh underneath the table and shake your head. “no. um, it’s all yours.”

he gives you a full smile now, his perfect teeth on full display and you can’t help but smile back. he takes a seat, setting his bag down beside him.

your friend grant sits at his right side and places a hand on his shoulder. “you’re marco, right?”

marco nods.

grant squints his eyes at him and shakes his head, looking across the table at you and quinn. “unbelievable.”

he turns back to marco. “do me a favor and stay away from my girlfriend.”

“grant!” the girlfriend in question, jen, exclaims and gives him a look before turning to marco. “excuse him, he’s an idiot.”

grant releases marco with a laugh and takes a bite of his sandwich. “i was kidding! mostly.” he mumbles the last word through a full mouth.

marco laughs, waving it off. “it’s okay. trust me, i’m not here to steal anyone’s girlfriend.”

you take a drink from your water bottle, laughing at your friends. “yeah, this may have not been the prime table for you to choose to sit at.”

marco shrugs, giving you a half smile. “i like it. you guys seem very...”

“loud?” quinn finishes as one of the boys down the table shrieks as someone else pours water down his shirt. “disruptive? unfiltered?” she aims that last word at grant, who’s too infatuated with his sandwich to notice.

marco laughs again and you smile. he seems very open, you note. willing to go with anything.

“i was gonna say entertaining.” he shrugs. “but those work too.”

you and your friends quickly introduce yourselves and the rest of the lunch period resumes like it always would have.

marco quickly slips into the natural system of you and your friends, not even a little bit fazed when the entire cafeteria turned to see the commotion that you had caused when someone flipped their entire lunch tray off the table. he simply laughed along with you guys, giving himself into the moment. too soon, lunch is over and you and your friends are cleaning up your table and throwing out the trash. faintly, you hear quinn arguing with the boys, telling them you were the ones to make the mess so of course you have to clean it up! as you came back to your table from returning your tray.

marco looks at you when you return and stands. “hey, could you tell me where mr. peterson’s room is? i would have asked one of them but...” the both of you turn your heads to where quinn is supervising the boys picking up after themselves and the girls sneak off as best as they can before quinn gets to them as well. “...they seem a bit busy.”

you laugh, picking up your backpack. “just another day with this bunch, trust me. but lucky for you, i also have ap physics next.”

the bell rings and you turn to quinn, but she hasn’t let up on the boys so you just let her be. being late on the first day isn’t that big of a deal anyway.

you lead marco to the physics room, all eyes on the two of you as soon as you step into the room. you almost forgot that you had spent the entirety of lunch with the school’s newest crush up until this very moment. you could feel the glares directed at you radiating throughout the room and watched as heads of those who hadn’t seen him yet perk up as he entered.

“is it just me, or is everyone looking at us?” marco had bent down and was whispering in your ear.

you decide not to inflate his ego anymore and shake your head. “it’s just you.”

you take a seat at one of the lab tables, marco sitting beside you. you zone out as the teacher speaks, it was the first day so it was mainly rules and the expectations for the year.

so you don’t pay much attention until one sentence catches your ear:

“the person you’re sitting with will be your lab partner for the rest of the year.”

you and marco turn to look at each other and he grins.

“hi, partner.” he says, quietly since mr. peterson is still speaking.

“you should know, i have been yelled at in every lab class i’ve ever taken because i always forget the directions.” you warn him.

“well this should be fun. so have i.” he winks and you both laugh quietly.

the period passes slowly as most do on the first day. the bell rings but everyone stays in their seats since lab was next anyway.

you go over lab rules and discuss the first lab you will be doing next time and you raise your brows as he hands out the instruction sheet.

“yikes, this looks like a lot of steps.” you say to marco and he shakes his head.

“mm, yeah. next lab class should be fun, don’t you think?” he gives you a knowing look.

you can’t help but laugh at the thought of you in a lab class together, but the laughter is also for the fact that you found marco.

never in your life had you met someone who was so ready to quickly adapt and go with the flow. you had had no doubt that your lunch table would be enough to scare him off but he had already decided he would be coming back tomorrow. and so, that became the beginning of your friendship and many screwed up labs. marco inserted himself nicely into your friend group and the two of you especially started becoming really close. that was, until one fateful day.

“...hot.” is the only thing you hear over the loudspeaker in the middle of your english class and everyone around you looks up in confusion. “he’s just a guy...woah!”

you quickly recognize the voice as elle evans and also realize that she probably doesn’t know she’s being broadcast to the entire school right now.

“the omgs were right, this guy is a snack!” you hear her say and everyone in your classroom laughs, the teacher’s eyebrows raised.

you wince on her behalf. you’re not friends, but still. that’s embarrassing for anyone. everyone gathers pretty quickly that’s she’s talking about marco and you internally roll your eyes. obviously you know marco’s hot, you have eyes. but to have another girl describe just how hot he is over the loudspeaker during class makes you bubble over with annoyance.

and besides, doesn’t she have a boyfriend?

eventually, her tirade stops and your teacher tries to calm the class down so you can get back to work. but even as you leave your class, everyone is still taking about it and elle has been given the new nickname get it girl.

“ah, there he is, our very own full course meal. or was he the dessert?” grant asks as marco sits at the table.

“no, grant. he’s a snack, remember?” quinn joins in.

“how about all of the above?” you say and the table erupts into laughter.

marco shakes his head. “alright, alright. enough jokes.”

you get a deadpanned look on your face. “oh, no. we’re dead serious marco. you’re just that hot.”

grant wraps an arm over his shoulders and starts making kissy faces at marco which he laughs at and shrugs off.

“seriously, though. where does elle get off saying that kind of shit? doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” jen asks.

“she does, indeed.” you point a fry in her direction before popping it into your mouth.

“huh,” marco says as he takes a sip of his water.

“what’s that’s supposed to mean?” you ask him.

“nothing.” he sets down his bottle. “i just didn’t know she had a boyfriend is all.”

you give him a wary look but decide to drop it for now, hoping that elle evans was behind you. and she was, until...

“you what?”

marco sighs, sinking his pool shot before standing up straight.

the two of you were at the arcade, making the most of your last day of the weekend. the arcade was mainly empty except for a mother and her two kids who turned to look at you when you shouted. you gave her an apologetic look before turning your attention back to marco.

“i felt bad. lee can’t do the competition and she really wants to enter. what was i supposed to say, no?” marco says in response.

apparently elle and lee were supposed to enter a dance dance mania competition together, but since lee sprained his ankle, elle needed a replacement partner.

you don’t say anything, simply watching as he misses his next shot.

he looks up at you when he realizes you aren’t going to respond. “why do you even care if i help her?”

you feel your face get warm but you ignore it as best as you could, setting up for your own shot. it was your first shot of the game considering you hadn’t realized he was apparently a pro at pool.

“i don’t! its just that we have a take home lab due in two weeks and i don’t want to be stuck doing it myself cause you’re off dancing with get it girl.”

you call her by her nickname solely to spite him. why did you care so much? who knows, but you enjoyed seeing marco roll his eyes at the mention of the name.

“you won’t. and hey, relax.” he says.

you shoot him a glare. “don’t tell me to relax when you’re abandoning me.”

he chuckles. “no, relax.” he nods to the pool cue in your hand which you have in a death grip.

“oh.” you didn’t realize you had been taking out your anger on the poor stick. you take a deep breath, relaxing your grip and line up your shot.

“here.” marco walks over to you, disappearing from your vision as he stands behind you.

you quietly take a sharp intake of breath as you feel his body behind yours, his hands coming around you to lightly rest on the cue, shifting it slightly.

“what are you doing?” you ask, quietly but make no move to exit his embrace.

“considering i’m three shots away from winning and you haven’t made a single one yet, i figured i could help you out a little.” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“oh, shut up.” you mumble, but you don’t put any power behind your words.

marco adjusts your grip on the pool cue, lightly setting his hands over yours. his chest presses against your back and you can feel the heat radiating from his body to yours. your stomach clenches as his hand grazes yours ever so gently as he settles in. he leans forward a bit as he helps you line up your shot and you try your hardest to focus on the task at hand. but his lips are right by your ear so you feel his breath as he whispers:

“and shoot.”

you tap the ball with your pool cue, watching as your striped 10 ball rolls into the left corner pocket.

marco lifts his arms in victory and you found yourself saddened by the sudden loss of his body against yours.

“there it is!” he exclaims. “alright, next shot is all you.”

you groan playfully, trying to ignore the butterflies that have arisen in your stomach. you spend the rest of your day in the arcade before calling it quits and heading home to finish homework.

when you get home, you mull over what marco dancing with elle in the ddm competition means. you try to remind yourself that marco said things weren’t going to change now that he was helping out elle, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to turn out like he hoped.

and you were right.

ever since they started rehearsals, you have seen less and less of marco. he even eats lunch with her, leaving his spot across from you vacant. you saw him during ap physics but that was the only time you talked.

and as for your lab, guess who had spent the past two weeks working on it herself? everytime you called him to get him to work with you, it was always “sorry, elle and i have a practice” or “elle needs me right now.” it was as if your friendship meant nothing to him.

“alright guys, labs are due friday. i want them on my desk by the beginning of the lab period.” mr. peterson says at the end of lab on tuesday.

“oh shit, i totally forgot about that.” marco says, turning to you. “how’s—”

“it’s fine. i’m almost finished.” you cut him off, packing away your stuff without making eye contact.

“okay...” he says this with a twinge of confusion in his voice and you can feel the anger inside of you. “there’s nothing i can do?”

“i don’t know marco, why don’t you ask my dozens of phone calls and text messages i’ve sent you regarding the lab?” you lock eyes with him, angry now. “does i won’t let you do this lab alone ring a bell? or have you forgotten about that too?”

he sighs. “y/n, you know i’ve been busy. and i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean for you to do all of the work.”

your teacher clears his throat. “mr. peña, ms. y/l/n. don’t you have a class to get to?”

you look up with a smile. “yes, mr. peterson, sorry. have a good day.”

you leave the classroom without another look at marco.

and so the continuing weeks followed as such, marco spending all of his time with elle and the two of you only speaking when you had class together. there were times you tried to reach out, to be a peacemaker, but he always responded to your requests to hang out with sorry, i’m busy. next time?

to no one’s surprise, there was never a next time.

and as much as you were mad at marco for essentially ignoring your presence ever since he started dancing with elle, you couldn’t help but tune in to the competition since it was being streamed live.

“give me a second!” you call to your mom as you sit in front of your laptop and watch as elle and marco are called to the stage.

you sit through the performance, unable to help the proud feeling spreading through your body. you and marco may not have been as good of friends anymore, but you were still happy to see him thrive. even if it was a result of ignoring you for so long. your proud smile quickly drops from your face though, as you watch elle kiss marco. your eyebrows raise and you inhale a sharp intake of breath when she wraps and arm around him and pulls him closer.

you shut your laptop quickly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you press your hands against your eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. what would they be falling for? some guy that hadn’t shown interest in you and then abandoned you when you needed help? you were better than that.

so you left it alone. you didn’t know what was going on with elle and marco and it wasn’t any of your business. you had put it past you. you and marco were still friendly, but after the kiss with elle, he seemed even more distant than usual. and you couldn’t figure out why until the night of the fundraiser.

you were walking through the carnival, looking at different booths with jen when elle ran past us, accidentally bumping into you. she turned when she noticed it was you who she had run into and you notice her red rimmed eyes.

“oh my gosh, are you okay?” you may not have been her biggest fan, but you also weren’t a bitch. it was obvious she had been crying.

“i’m really sorry. just talk to him, okay? please.” was all she said before leaving the carnival.

“what was that about?” jen asks me.

“i’m not sure...” you say, looking after her retreating figure.

but it didn’t take long to figure out because as we walked further into the booths, we saw marco walking away from the kissing booth. with his head slightly bowed and his hands in his pockets, it was obvious he was upset about something.

you and liz exchanged a look and she raised her eyebrow at you, nodding over in his direction.

“well? go talk to him!” she shoved you forward a little bit.

you sighed, knowing that you should. you assumed that’s what elle had been talking about. so you approached him slowly, just as he reached the outside of the kissing booth crow.

“hey.”

he looked up when he heard your voice, an almost grateful look on his face, and gave you a small smile. “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked him and he broke into a relieved smile.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

you followed him to the outskirts of the carnival where the two of you sat on a bench right outside the exit. you sat first, crossing your legs as you faced the opposite side of the bench and patted the space beside you.

marco chucked and sat down, turning to face you as well. he drummed his fingers on the back of the bench, and you noticed his knee was bouncing. he was nervous. because of this you thought you would have to guide him into conversation, but to your surprise he began with no hesitation.

“i know i owe you an apology. ditching you like that because of my stupid crush on elle was not cool, especially after promising i wouldn’t let you do all the work yourself.” you winced at that, hoping it wasn’t too visible. you had known that marco liked elle, obviously, but to hear him say it aloud still hurt. “i’m so sorry. and not only about the lab but about our friendship. you were the first people that was actually real to me when i came here and you were my best friend. i let elle get in the way of that and i feel terrible.”

he fidgeted a bit in his seat. “i know i haven’t acted like it but...i miss you. a lot. i miss our terrible labs and arcade days and having lunch with you. i miss all of it. and i know it’s my fault that none of that has been happening. i really just...want to be friends again.” he looked up at you with sad eyes and you could tell he meant it.

and as much as you appreciated his apology and his honesty, you couldn’t just let him off the hook. “you really hurt me, marco. i get it, okay? crushes can make you do crazy things, but i told you that she had a boyfriend. you knew that and you still decided that she was worth risking our friendship over. while you were off dancing with elle, i was losing my best friend.”

“i know. and i’m so sorry. you’re right, i should’ve backed off the minute you told me that. but i really thought...” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. “but it’s not. and that’s done okay? she’s made it pretty clear i’m not the one she wants. and i hate that it took this for us to finally talk again, but i really just want to get back to the way we were.”

you smiled. “i want that too. and of course i’m upset but i can’t say i wouldn’t have jumped at an opportunity to hang out with someone i liked as well.”

“so?” he looked hopeful.

you laughed and stood. “so...marco valentin peña, you are officially forgiven.”

he smiled and stood up as well, pulling you into a hug. wrapping your arms around his waist, you squeezed him tightly as he did the same to you. you stayed like that for a moment before heading back into the fair. and just like that, the two of you were good again.

over the next few weeks, you and marco started hanging out again, he returned to your lunch table, and of course the two of you screwed up more labs than you could count. and over those few weeks, marco was getting over elle and he couldn’t help but think about you. the way you said his name, how you grabbed onto him whenever you were excited about something, your kind heart, and he especially couldn’t stop thinking about when you hugged him.

due to his height, his whole body ended to engulf you hen the two of you hugged, but you loved it. and you were an affectionate hugger. he wished he was the only one who received your hugs became they always made him feel so comfortable and at home. and when you let go, there have been more than a few times when he would pull you back in saying just a little longer. and you would laugh and snuggle yourself further into his chest. and there was nothing better than that feeling.

he really liked you. and he couldn’t believe he had wasted all that time on someone already in a relationship when you were right in front of him. so one day when you were at his house studying for your upcoming physics test, he decided to short his shot. sitting beside you at the dining table, he put his notebook down and turned his attention to you.

“hey, so y/n.” he said, his voice shaking a bit.

“mm?” you said, not looking up from the flash cards you were making.

“i, uh–” he cleared his throat. “i had a question.”

“shoot.” you said, highlighting the important information in your notes that you would copy onto your flash cards.

“um, do you–i mean, would want to go out with me? like, on a date?”

you paused your highlighting and slowly turned to face him. “i thought your question was going to be about physics...”

marco let out a short laugh. “yeah, well.” he just shrugged. when you didn’t say anything else, he got nervous. “is that a no? did i just make this weird? i definitely did, didn’t i?”

now it was your turn to laugh. “no, no, it’s fine. um, i would like to go on a date with you, really.” his face lights up but then dims again at your next words. “i just–i just don’t want to be your rebound from elle.”

“i can promise you right now, that is far from what you are. elle is in the past, i promise. i really like you, and i’ve just been too much of an idiot to see it. but you are not a rebound, y/n.”

“really?” he nodded. “because i really like you, marco. like, a lot.” you laugh and so does he.

he reached across the table and took your hand in his. “well that’s good to know.”

you watched as your hands intertwined, his hand squeezing yours lightly and you smiled. you looked back up at him.

“so yes, i would love to go out with you.” you said with a grin.

“perfect.” he whispered, leaning in.

you smiled and turned your head at the last moment, so that his lips touched your cheek. you felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin and he kissed your cheek again.

“physics first.” you said when he pulled away. “we do still have a test you know.”

you slid your finished flash cards over to him and he bit his lip, shaking his head. he took them, glancing over at you again.

“since when are you all about the work?” he asked.

“since we’ve almost failed every single one of our labs and need a good grade on this test.” you said teasingly.

“touché.” marco said, tuning back to his work.

but as soon as that last definition was memorized, marco took you by the hand, leading you to the doorway from the kitchen to the living room where a mistletoe hung. the peñas had decorated the house for christmas together but you could guarantee that this one had been marco’s idea.

you could only smile as he cupped your face in his hands, leaning down to meet your lips. you stop on your tiptoes to meet him in the middle and when your lips touched you felt the butterflies burst in your stomach. this boy you’ve had a crush on liked you back and now you were kissing him under the mistletoe. the thought made you smile and marco noticed.

“what’s got you so smiley?” he murmurs against your lips.

“marco peña is kissing me.” you said in response and pressed another kiss to his lips. “what’s not to smile about?”

a/n: idk about y’all but the best friendships for me came out of science labs, they are so funny for some reason.

taglist: @devilishdior @write-from-the-heart @minnyvees @lover1307 @sonnyalice @caro1115 @psg-for-life @mansaaay @thebookwormlife

[agentaletha]

Raybearer

Tarisai has always longed for the warmth of a family. She was raised in isolation by a mysterious, often absent mother known only as The Lady. The Lady sends her to the capital of the global empire of Aritsar to compete with other children to be chosen as one of the Crown Prince’s Council of 11. If she’s picked, she’ll be joined with the other Council members through the Ray, a bond deeper than blood. That closeness is irresistible to Tarisai, who has always wanted to belong somewhere. But The Lady has other ideas, including a magical wish that Tarisai is compelled to obey: Kill the Crown Prince once she gains his trust. Tarisai won’t stand by and become someone’s pawn—but is she strong enough to choose a different path for herself? - Goodreads

Raybearer by Jordan Ifeuko, 2020 Amulet Books

Raybearer is a lovely young adult fantasy novel, the first in a two book series. I read a fair amount of YA, and a good amount of speculative fiction and still Raybearer felt new and exciting. In fact I’d say it’s probably my favorite YA I’ve read so far this year. The world building is unique with a wide variety of cultures (obviously influenced by certain real world countries but with enough departure to not feel just relabeled with fantasy names), interesting magic abilities, a sense of history, and an unusual system of government.

While stories of youths rebelling against oppressive regimes are YA’s bread and butter, this takes a deeper look at justice and inequality. I love that Tarisai’s goal for most of this first book is just to protect her friends and chosen family. There are so many that we don't really get to know all of them, but the ones we do know are perfect. While Tarisai has a strong sense of right and wrong (literally, she gets physical symptoms from injustice) the entire time, the book covers her journey from ignoring it, then trying to save individuals, to trying to affect the whole empire. But even when her purpose is to protect, she still sees systemic injustices and comes up with systemic solutions, wanting to fulfill her role as more than keeper of the status quo. This is a story that questions why things are the way they are and how the status quo is maintained, but also looks seriously at what can be done better in the future. The problem isn’t one bad person abusing their power, the problem is the system that supports and maintains inequalities. I appreciated that there are no scenery chewing villains here - everyone has understandable motives, from lashing out to hurt because they were hurt, to fear, and to how easy it is to dismiss injustices that happen to other people, in other places and justify that that’s just how it is, no point in trying to make a difference. Everyone is treated with compassion, even when they make bad decisions or react from their emotions, which they sometimes do.

I’m really looking forward to the second book! In the words of George Washington from Hamilton,”Winning is easy young man, governing’s harder.” I love seeing what happens next and I’m going to leave it there to not give any more away.

Spoilers ahead as I talk about representation

As for LGBTQIA representation, it’s there but fairly background. Same sex relationships aren’t stigmatized and it seems there’s a bit of an “everyone is bi” default, although all the main on-page romantic relationships are male/female. Gender roles vary by culture but don’t seem to be strictly delineated in the palace although gender does seem to be considered strictly binary. One of the 11 is gay and fairly flamboyant about it - he’s described as a “bleeding-heart poet” dreaming of handsome swains, but that’s about it. However, there is an asexual character and while he’s not the protagonist, he is one of the key players. A little less than halfway through the book, when she is an anointed member of his council, Tarisai asks the Prince to meet her privately at a known lovers’ meeting spot. He’s afraid she has the wrong idea and this is what he tells her:

 “There’s something I should tell you. I don’t...I don’t think I want sex. Ever. And I don’t mean with you, I mean - with anyone. Girls, boys. Anyone.” He stared at the leaves on the ground, smooth brow furrowing. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before. On you, on Jeet, and some of the others. I’ve just … never been interested in the sex part. Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken.”

You aren’t broken, protested the voice inside me. You’re the kindest, most loving person I know. Run. Live.

“But I’m crown prince,” he continued, grimacing, “and I have to have heirs someday, so… I guess - if I could choose anyone-”

The conversation ends there because Tarisai stabs him.

Ekundayo, or Dayo for short, is described as happy, naive, trusting, and having a “big fragile heart”. He is the Crown Prince, but he believes in the best of everyone. He’s well meaning but doesn’t always get it. They don’t have a word for asexual, but the author makes it clear by indicating that it’s all genders he’s not interested in and that he’s not aromantic as well. And the author includes the classic, “I wonder if I’m broken.” On the one hand, broken would go on my ace characters bingo sheet, but on the other, it’s a classic for a reason. Asexuality is already so much more visible than when I finally encountered it over ten years ago that maybe in another ten private wonderings about our brokenness will no longer resonate with the younger generations. I hope so. In the meantime, I already liked him as the soft-hearted prince and this made my heart go out to him. I love that Tarisai’s immediate reaction is “you’re not broken” although she doesn’t get the chance to say that out loud or even finish the conversation. I assume it will come up again in the next and final book. I really don’t know what’s going to happen next and I love that.

In summary, I loved Raybearer and I think it’s a good representation of an ace character that doesn’t fall prey to stereotypes (although I am keeping an eye on how often naive tends to show up) and I highly recommend it as a diverse thoughtful YA fantasy.

[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 ❤️

[a-vintage-snake]

Don’t Make Me Be The Bad Guy

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Moceit

Warnings: Dystopian future, implied torture

Characters: Janus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Summary: After seven years of fighting, Patton and his superhero team finally capture the super villain known as Deceit. But when Patton discovers evidence that sheds a new light on their nemesis he starts to wonder... Did he do the right thing?

Word Count: 9411

Author’s Note: For @dramaticsnakes, who’s a wonderful reader and writer. And special thanks to @rainbowbutterfrosting who helped me finish this when I almost wanted to give up. (Also, as always I upload and edit the mistakes out after, so bear with me)

Read on AO3

In the end, it had been Patton who had struck the final blow.

It had been mostly a matter of luck, really. One moment where Patton managed to break through the henchmen’s defences. One moment where he saw that their nemesis’ back was turned to him. One moment where he made a split decision.

One moment. And that moment had made all the difference.

He didn’t quite realize he had thrown one of his famous lightning bolts until it hit square between his enemy’s shoulder blades. He stood there, paralyzed, as Janus Lyre (alias Doctor Deceit) crumbled to the floor. The battle around them grounded to a halt as well, as the henchmen saw their leader unconscious at the feet of their enemies. His teammates froze as well, looking up at Patton in gaping disbelief.

When time finally seemed to start again, everything went by in a blur. The henchmen managed to escape, unfortunately with the super weapon Patton and his team had come to destroy. But it didn’t even seem to matter.

“By Odin’s beard, Padre!” Roman lifts him up in a hug. “You did it!!”

“I… I did?” Patton confusedly asks, still feeling a little dizzy.

“You got him! You actually got him!” Roman puts him back on his feet with a giant grin on his face. “We can finally put him away!” “But the weapon-!”

“Forget the weapon! We’ve got the bastard, Heart!” Virgil grins. “After seven years we finally got him! It’s over!”

“Well, not exactly,” Logan pipes in, although he can’t seem to stop grinning too. “There’s still the matter of rounding up the rest of his organization-”

“Technical details, my friend!” Roman dramatically waves Logan’s objections away. “We got their leader! Not a henchman, not some lackey, their actual leader! How long do you think until their little League of Losers falls apart?”

“Even so,” Logan says. “Better not celebrate until Doctor Deceit is safely behind bars. You three search the building. Who knows, maybe some of his henchmen are still hiding somewhere,” Logan throws a scornful look down at the unconscious Janus at their feet. “I will stay here and stand guard.”

“Ah yes, I was just about to suggest that!” Roman says as he flips his hair proudly. “Great intuition, Nerdy and the Brain!”

“Yes, sounds like a good plan!” Patton quickly squeaks as Logan gains a look that says he’s about a minute away from using his telekinesis to throw Roman across the room. “How about you call in our superiors, Logan? We need to put this villain behind bars!”

“Excellent idea, Heart Shock.” Logan says gratefully, while ignoring Roman’s protesting noises. Roman loved making the calls on jobs well done (which to be fair hadn’t occurred often lately).

“Great!” Patton grabs the hand of the still protesting Roman and pulls him along. “Come on Prince!”

Roman pouts and grumbles, but allows Patton to pull him further into the dark lair. He catches a glimpse of Virgil’s grin before he turns a corner.

“Bet you I can find something cool before you do!” Patton smiles up at Roman. His teammate’s grumpy face instantly brightens.

“Oh, you’re on Padre!”  

Dissolving into giggles Patton and Roman run down the halls. Roman could easily outfly him, yet he chooses to run alongside Patton for now. Giddily Patton runs towards a promising looking door at the end of the hallway.

Throwing it open he however sags in disappointment as the room they found only holds a couple cardboard boxes.

“Bah, nothing of importance,” Roman says as he kicks over the boxes and nothing but rusty spare mechanical parts fall out. “I suppose even villains need a trash cupboard. Come Heart!” Roman levitates from the ground. “Let us find something more dastardly!”

Before Patton can say anything Roman flies out of the room. Judging from the clanging sounds he’s already searching in a room further ahead. Patton casts one last glance around the room before he shrugs and turns to follow.

He pauses.

Uncertainly he turns around again. Something about the room doesn’t feel… Right. He knows it, yet he can’t put his finger on it why exactly. His powers crackle in his veins, sensing the off-ness in the air.

Cautiously Patton walks around the room, circling the walls slowly with one hand trailing amongst the bricks. The sense of wrongness only increases until…

In front of a seemingly bare wall he stops. There it is. He feels an unusual amount of electricity clustering behind the stone, yet the wall shows no outer signs of being anything else than… Well, a wall. Curiously Patton puts both his hands on the bricks and closes his eyes.

The world behind his eyelids lights up in bursts of electricity. His power hums in tune with the wires inside the walls, stringing all over the building and mapping out the lair in his mind’s eye in perfect detail. Patton only takes short notice of it before he calls his powers back and focuses it all on the wall before him. Yes, there it was. His powers outline a door in the wall, carefully hidden behind a buzzing security system.

Well, no match for him! Patton only needs to concentrate for a few seconds to have the electricity revert and change directions. Flexing his fingers and furrowing his brow he wills the electricity to move into the opposite direction, to change their route, until finally he hears a click. Patton opens his eyes. He pulls his hands back as the wall shifts and a door opens, so seamlessly hidden in the brick it was invisible to the bare eye. Patton allows himself a proud grin. Oh, he was on a roll today! Patton steps into the room, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He searches for a light switch, but he can’t find one nearby. No matter! With a soft snap small lightning bolts dance on his fingers, revealing rich red walls which somehow complimented the flickering lightning in his hands.

The room is mostly bare, apart from a table in the centre of the room. It’s covered with various maps, some showing population size while others showing outlines of cities, roads and shops. There were some pencils and pens in the middle of the table, most sharp and pointed while a few were so dull that they couldn't be used anymore.

Patton noticed only one chair at the table. He only looked at it, remembering the times were Logan lectured him about not touching the crime scene unless absolutely necessary. Still, the chair seemed comfortable, the black leather clearly in great condition.

His eyes drift slightly downwards towards the cabinets under the table. They all looked the same to him, a spruce colour with a silver handle that could be pulled out. He crouches as he tries to pull open the drawer without ruining the possibility of getting fingerprints. What kind of horrors would he find in there? Knowing Janus it was probably something awful, like torture devices, or puppets of them with their eyes crossed out, or… Or…

Not able to take it any longer, Patton pulls open the drawer. He draws back, covering his face with his arms and waiting for poisonous darts or something to strike out and hit him. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Patton carefully peeks over his arms.

Inside the drawer... is just files. No cyanide, no razor-sharp knives, just... files. Patton lowers his arms and opens the one next to it, with more haste than the last one, only to find more files. Huh… That’s… Not what he was expecting? He honestly didn't know what he expected to find. It's not like the files were bad to find, it just didn't give him the rush of putting in the last piece to a puzzle. Capturing Janus almost felt like that. He knew he should have been more proud of himself, but this wasn't even close to the end of it. There still were all of Janus' accomplices and the propaganda he spread throughout several cities to take care of after all. Maybe the files had the names of his accomplices in them?

Forgetting Logan’s warning about contaminating the crime scene Patton grabs one of the files from the drawer and absentmindedly flips it open.

A scream echoes across the halls. Patton jerks up, forgetting the papers in his hand as the sound of struggle trail toward him. He jumps up, stuffs the files in his jacket before he runs back to where they left their enemy tied up.

It appears that backup had arrived, and in that same time their enemy had woken up. Several soldiers struggle with restraining a livid Janus, who trashes in their grip as they try to drag him into an awaiting prison van. They had managed to gag him before he woke, a muzzle strapped to his face to protect the soldiers from the venom of both his words and his fangs. He fights wildly, but in the end he is still one man against too many. As they finally wrestle him to the ground to clap him in handcuffs, he and Patton make eye contact.

Despite that he just knocked the man unconscious, despite that Janus is currently lying on the ground restrained by ten men, Patton instinctively takes a step back from the pure fury in those mismatched eyes.

Janus looks at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world.

One soldier pushes a taser onto his neck. Janus’ eyes roll back in his head as he convulses on the ground, muffled cries coming from behind the muzzle. When the taser withdraws Janus slumps to the ground, unconscious once more. Finally the soldiers can drag him into the prison van.

“Haha, yes!!” Roman yells. “You shall taste justice now, villain!”

Roman laughs, but it is only when the doors of the van close and they drive off that Patton feels like he can breathe again.

--

The press conferences were always Patton’s least favourite part. To stand next to their CEO, listening to a briefing of yet another failed mission while the people in the crowd shook their head in disapproval had always been torture. The longer the years went on the worse the pressure to actually defeat their villain became. To come back to the cameras every time Janus escaped became worse and worse as the years went on. The disappointment of not only the AEP, but of the people… That alone felt worse than any punch he had ever gotten in battle.

Now however Patton felt like he could just burst from all the excitement. He could barely stand still enough for his stylists to brush his hair into a tamer shape. He peeked behind the curtains to the gilded ballroom beyond. The AEP had chosen this specific ballroom to announce the big news on purpose. Just two years ago Janus and his horrid crew had crashed a fundraiser being held here and had stolen all the people’s so graciously donated funds for a new hotel. They hadn’t been able to capture him. It had been an awful night!

To be here again was to show that villain they were not afraid. That they could claim back the spaces he so rudely invaded. Seeing all the people in their beautiful evening gowns and best jewellery now made Patton want to burst out from behind the curtain to yell at them that they were safe!! He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted to yell at the entire world!

You are safe! We rescued you! I defeated the villain, I did, I did-!!

“Here are our heroes of the day!”

Distracted Patton looks back to see their CEO has come backstage. Bentley Ceund is a man in his late fifties, with a bleach blond hair dye job that does not quite hide away his grey roots, as always dressed in a stylishly expensive suit. He was the one who had founded the AEP, or An Endless Peace organization, all those years ago. Yet outside of press conferences they did not see him often. And even when they did, it were often meetings filled with harsh words and bitter disappointment.  

“Have I wasted all my money on THIS?!” Their CEO had bellowed at them the last time they had seen him, when Janus had destroyed several important construction sites. “On FAILURES who can’t even capture ONE MEASLY MAN?!” Angry spit had hit Patton in the face as he struggled to hold back tears when Bentley had moved in close and screamed in their faces. “You’re a fucking EMBARRESEMENT to ME and the company who RAISED YOU FROM BIRTH!! UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS WASTES OF TIME!!”

Their TV and leisure time privileges had been taken away from them for quite some time back then.

That screaming man from last time was a far cry from the smiling one that approaches them now however. No, he in fact gives the others a joyful hug and praise. Roman and Logan beam, and even Virgil smiles hesitantly. When he turns to him Patton nervously fidgets for a moment, but Bentley gives him the possibly the grandest smile out of all of them.

“Heart Shock!” Bentley laughs as he draws Patton into a hug. He never uses their real names, even though he knew them by those well before their superhero names. “Well done, my boy!”

“T-Thank you sir!” Patton says excitedly, almost melting into the hug despite the overwhelming smell of body spray. He can’t help it. It wasn’t often he was the one who got most of the praise. That was usually either Logan or Roman. “I couldn’t have done it without the others though-!”

“No need to be so modest,” Bentley draws back from the hug, put keeps his hands on Patton’s shoulder. “I’ve read the report. You are the one shot down that son of a bitch!

“Oh, well,” Patton flusters. “Anyone could have done it-!”

But in the end it was you.” Their CEO chuckles, almost fondly. “Be proud of yourself, son. Thanks to you…” Bentley pats him on the shoulder. “The company is safe again.” “And the innocent civilians, sir!” Patton helpfully says.

“Hmm? Oh yes, those too I suppose.”

Patton frowns lightly, but before he can say anything Bentley’s PA interrupts.

“Mister Ceund? The program is about to begin.”

“Ah, yes! It’s time boys!” Bentley grins towards his superheroes. “Let’s tell the world what we have achieved today!” He gives Patton a pat on his cheek before he turns and walks to the curtains, waiting for the moment to make his grand entrance. Patton frowns, but he doesn’t have the time to think for long. Their CEO walks onto the stage where thunderous applause greets him. Eventually Patton just shrugs and stands with his teammates, dismissing the uncomfortable thoughts.

As the applause slowly grows to a halt, Bentley takes centre stage. “Today is a momentous occasion,” He says into the microphone. “After seven years of making our streets unsafe, the villain known as Doctor Deceit has finally been put behind bars!”

The crowd erupts into applause, filling the gilded ballroom with cheers and cameras flashing. Beside him Virgil flinches from the sudden noise. Patton discretely slips his hand into Virgil’s and squeezes. Virgil gives a grateful squeeze back.

“Today, history has been made. Today this organization has finally achieved that which we have promised you, all those years ago…” Their CEO pauses for a second, before proudly continuing. “An Endless Peace.”

The crowd applauds again, laughing politely at the reference of the company name.

“But of course, we did not do it alone!”

Patton and the others took a deep breath. Right. Time for the show!

“Please welcome your heroes! Here is Prince Charming!”

On that cue Roman flies up from behind the curtains and the crowd erupts into cheers. Roman flies his usual round over the crowd, occasionally sharing a high-five with an audience member and flashing his fans a million-dollar smile. Several men and women giggle and blush behind their hands as he flips his hair and blows kisses to the crowd.

“Show-off…” Virgil silently scoffs beside him.

“Come now, Virge,” Patton whispers back. “You know Roman loves the cameras! Let him have his fun.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but still a fond smile curls up his lips.

“Next, give it up for Brain Teaser!”

Logan purses his lips and sighs, but makes his entrance from behind the curtains anyway. Virgil and Patton exchange a knowing look. They’d listened to plenty of Logan’s rants about how ‘utterly illogical’ the serious man thought his superhero name was. Unfortunately the public was by now too familiar with the name to even suggest renaming him.

“Let me hear you for Stormcloud!”

Virgil supresses a shudder yet he still reluctantly dematerializes, only to rematerialize on stage in a cloud of shadows. While the crowd only grows in volume Patton winces in sympathy. The EAP knows how much Virgil can’t stand loud sounds, but for the audience he has to bear it with a smile. It was a weakness their enemies had exploited frequently. Janus would often blast high-pitched noises at such a volume Virgil would crumble where he stood, allowing him to escape over and over.  

Well, Patton thinks with a tinge of pride, he won’t harm his friends ever again now.

“And of course, last but certainly not least… The man of the hour! The hero who struck the deciding blow! Put your hands together for HEART SHOCK!”

The curtains are drawn and Patton is momentarily blinded from the hundreds of cameras flashing and deafened by the crowd cheering. Squinting Patton stands in the spotlight, dizzily smiling at the onslaught of praise that is directed his way. He walks forward- Although it feels like stumbling is a better word- to the front of the stage to where the CEO waits for him with a smile. Journalists crowd the stage as they shout questions.

“Heart Shock!! Heart Shock, over here-!”

“Heart Shock, how do you feel-?”

“What was going through your head?”

“How did you take the villain down? We want all the juicy details-!”

“Everyone, everyone! Please!” Bentley laughs. “One question at a time, please!”

Patton yelps as Bentley puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug like he’s a proud father. The cameras around them go nuts as their CEO smiles and poses with Patton.

“How are you feeling, Heart Shock?” One journalist manages to yell over the cacophony of questions.

“W-Well…” Patton stammers into the microphone. “I-I feel quite proud-!”

“A well deserved pride, my boy!” Bentley says jovially as he squeezes his shoulder.

“Yeah… I suppose it is-!” Patton smiles.

“Heart Shock! How do you think the villain will react to his status as prisoner?” One journalist yells, a question that is met with gaudy giggles.

“I guess…” Patton says with hesitant excitement. “He’ll find it…” He snaps his fingers, lightning dancing over his hands as he finger guns at the audience. “Quite shocking?”

To Patton’s bewildered delight the entire audience erupts into laughs. Even Bentley next to him laughs, while he had always disapprovingly glared before when Patton made a pun. Patton can’t stop the grin that spreads on his face even if he had wanted to.

The rest of the evening goes by in a haze. As the press conference part of the evening ends and the superheroes must mingle with the guests, the praise just keeps on coming. Patton gets patted on the back, hugged and complimented. The sheer amount of attention is dizzying. Patton can’t stop smiling throughout all of it. It might just be the best evening in his life.

It isn’t until he’s in bed, still glowing with pride and from all the praise, that Patton remembers the files in his jacket.

His superhero jacket lays thrown into a corner, cast aside earlier as he quickly got into a clean, more sleek version of his hero outfit for the press conference. Giving it a glance from where he sits on his bed he’s almost tempted to leave it until next morning. His handlers had actually given him hot chocolate and two cookies before bed! Two!! That was a treat he didn’t often get! He just wants to enjoy them in peace.

Still… Perhaps he could hand them over tomorrow, announcing all the wicked plans that are undoubtedly in the files that he had also stopped when he captured Janus. Grinning at that mental image Patton gets up from and retreats back into his comfy bed with the files, munching on a cookie as he lazily starts skimming through the papers.

An hour later his hot chocolate has long run cold and the second cookie lies forgotten on its tray. Patton sits straight up in his bed, the files open on his knees and his gaze firmly locked on the wall in front of him. His first cookie feels like lead in his stomach.

It couldn’t be the truth… It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!!

Abruptly coming back into motion Patton stuffs the files under his mattress and turns off the light to sleep, determined not to even consider or think about what is in them anymore. Yet it takes him until the first rays of dawn to finally fall asleep, and even when he does sleep his dreams are filled with mismatched eyes that look at him with a gaze that burns, burns, burns…

During the days of the week that follows he’s fine. He can smile and take the praise that he’s still showered with daily, with the files only a distant memory.

During the nights, however… Patton can’t seem to shake the image of those eyes. Furious, loathing mismatched eyes, looking at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world. The files underneath his mattress seem to burn a hole in his soft bedding, demanding his attention.

It is only a week later when he awakens from yet another nightmare plagued by those accusing eyes that Patton realizes this can’t go on. He has to know what it all means, or he might go mad with the questions that swarm his mind.

--

The next night Patton foregoes his bed in favour of slipping out of his room into the quiet halls of the facility, the files tucked away in his jacket. Sweat beads down his forehead, the familiar thrum of electricity inside the walls only a faint comfort. Although he only needs to make the barest effort to make the security cameras divert from him, the action still makes his hands shake. As he sneaks into the elevator at the end of the hall he inspects the buttons. You need a special pass to go to the very lowest level. But Patton only needs to send a pulse of electricity into the elevator to make the security system think he’s been granted access. As the doors close Patton swallows. No going back now.

The elevator ride feels both too long and too short. When finally the doors glide open to reveal a long hall Patton fastens his pace. He passes other closed cells, some of which he hears murmurs from behind their closed doors, but he does not slow down until he reaches the door at the very end of the hall. Door 409… Holding the highest level of security prison cell they have.

He glances backwards for a second, before he takes a deep breath and places his hands on the door. He feels the electricity answering as he redirects the flow. It’s hard. Harder than the vault in the lair, harder than tricking the elevator had been. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead, as he carefully has to divert his powers through layer upon layer of security, careful in case he triggers an alarm somewhere.

He isn’t quite sure how much time passes, but at long last the door finally, finally opens. Patton enters, and quickly slides the door closed again. His heart hammers in his throat as he presses his hands to the door and listens for the sound of the alarm going off.

It doesn’t come. He had done it. Exhaling a shaky breath Patton leans his forehead against the metal door, cooling his flushed skin.

“Well, well, well,” A smooth voice drawls behind him. “Look what the cat dragged in…”

Patton’s shoulders tense. He had hoped to never hear that voice again. A part of him is tempted to leave, but the files pressed against his chest still burn. So he gathers all his courage and slowly turns around.

The cell in the middle of the room is a monstrosity of glass and metal, bare apart from a simple bed. The security system surrounding it buzzes with the sheer amount of electricity it needs, making it dizzying even to Patton. It is only a small distraction however from the person all that electricity is holding prison, standing in the middle of that glass cell with his arms crossed at his back. Like he had been expecting him.

“My sincerest apologies for the mess. I wasn’t expecting such important company,” Janus grins. “Should I feel honoured that the famed Heart Shock is visiting little old me in my cell?”

Patton swallows. He had hoped that the villain would have been less frightening now, pulled away from his usual shadows and dragged into the light for once. He wasn’t. If anything the simple white prison grubs he wore instead of his usual black suits and the bright LED lightning only enhances how alien, how otherworldly he really is. The green scales trailing down his sharp face, the fangs glistening in that all too familiar mocking grin, the tall willowy frame that nonetheless packs a surprising amount of strength… The man in front of him is more monster than human. Patton wonders for a second if he ever was human to begin with.

“Oh, look at you,” Janus chuckles softly as the silence between them stretches on. “Like a frightened little mouse in the snake’s den… Whatever will he do now?”

Patton puffs out his chest indignantly. “I’m not afraid of you!” He says, ignoring how Janus raises an eyebrow with an amused smile. “I’m not! You have no power here! You’re our prisoner!”

“Really?” Janus mockingly drawls. “Well, pardon me for not believing you whilst you look like that.”

Patton belatedly realizes what kind of picture he paints. Pressed up against the door, as far away from the glass as he possibly can. Not exactly the fearless superhero everyone expected him to be.

Closing his eyes for a second, Patton takes a deep breath and steps forward. Cautiously he approaches the cell, his footsteps in sync with Janus’ until they both halt at the glass, right in front of each other. Patton stares up at his nemesis, more confident than he feels. Right into the mismatched eyes who have haunted his nightmares for almost a week now. He swallows, clenching his fist to hide that they’re shaking.

“While I’m definitely thrilled to have you here,” Janus smirks down at him. “I’m afraid I’m a very busy man, and don’t have time to have a staring contest with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Patton opens his mouth to ask what the heck he would be busy with, he’s a prisoner, but stops himself. That’s a discussion that would lead him nowhere, and he came here with a purpose.

“I’m here to talk with you.” He says instead.

“Congratulations, you just did,” Janus yawns, a forked tongue lazily flicking out from between sharp fangs. “If that was all, darling-”

“No! I mean-” Patton zips open his jacket and pulls out the files. “I’m here to talk about these.”

Janus’ eyes narrow when he spots the files, the only outward reaction he shows. Yet the temperature between them seems to drop to freezing level.

“I’ve never seen those before in my life.” Janus says airily.

“I found them in your lair!” Patton counters. “In a hidden compartment in the wall!”

“Did you now? How interesting.” Janus lazily inspects his fingernails. Patton frowns as he spots Janus’ left arm is completely wrapped up in white bandages. He can’t recall that they gave him an arm injury. He opens his mouth to ask, but shakes his head. He had to focus on this.

“These are your plans!”

“No they’re not.”

“Oh yeah?” Patton flips open the files. “Then how do you explain your name on top of these papers?”

“Can I help it that ‘Janus’ is such a popular name?”

“These are all written in your handwriting!”

“Preposterous. My handwriting is much neater.”

“All your old plans are in this, and some future ones!” Patton shouts exasperatedly.

“Pure coincidence.”

“Stop,” Patton grits out through clenched teeth. “Stop denying! I know these are yours!”

“If you’re so sure, why ask me at all?” Janus disinterestedly brushes away some invisible dust from his shoulder. “Why haven’t you immediately shown them to your superiors, like the good obedient lackey that you are?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” Patton responds heatedly.

With a growl Janus suddenly throws a fist against the glass, his eyes flashing dangerously. Patton jumps backwards, his throat squeezing shut before a startled scream can escape him.

“Don’t. Lie. To me.” Janus spits. “If you had shown them, you wouldn’t be here chatting with me in the middle of the night. Admit it.”

“I… No.” Patton finally shakes his head, gripping the files tightly between his hands. “No, I didn’t…”

“There we go…” Janus draws his hand back and crosses his arms again behind his back, his easy smile back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Heart Shock. Have your masters never told you it’s bad to lie?”

Patton bites his lip. It was true that he’d be in so much trouble if his superiors ever found out that he lied. But surely they would understand him lying to their enemy, wouldn’t they?

“You’re one to talk!” Patton says instead. “You lie all the time!”

“Says who?” Janus drawls with a mocking smile.

“Says me! You lied every time we fought, you just lied multiple times to my face-!”

“No I didn’t.”

“-And you lie in these files!!” Patton shrieks, waving the files in front of the villain’s nose. Janus’ smile falls and his face darkens.

“Oh? Pray tell, Patton.” Janus sneers, and Patton snaps back in shock at hearing his actual name coming from the villain’s mouth.

“H-How did you-?”

“Why exactly would you think I lied in these files?” Janus tilts his head. “If I wrote them, that is.”

“Because... Because-!” Patton flips angrily through the files. “Because these files say you used the money you stole from the hotel fundraiser two years ago to finance black market medication research!”

The hero looks up triumphantly, expecting Janus to laugh and simper about how gullible he is for believing such an obvious decoy. Janus however doesn’t laugh. He shows not even a hint of his mockery as he silently listens. Patton’s triumph falters, and he flips once more through the files to avoid that calm gaze.

“A-And here!” Patton pulls another paper from the file. “In here you claim that you kidnapped the scientist Emile Picani because the AEP made him design weapons, not new mental health robots!”

Still no response. Patton scowls as he holds up another paper. “This says you destroyed a construction site for a new factory because the output would pollute the town’s only water resource!”

“They were also exploiting the builders,” Janus finally interrupts. “Forced them to work under horridly unsafe conditions for barely a quarter of the salary they needed to support their families.”

“Yes!!” Patton throws the files down with frustrated force, making the papers fly everywhere. “You… You… You keep lying in these files, making us appear like the bad guys! Is this what you tell the people? To brainwash them into joining your stupid little gang?”

“Me? Brainwashing? HA!” Janus shakes his head. “That’s a laugh and a half…”

“I’m onto you, Deceit!” Patton proudly puffs out his chest. “I see right through your tricks!”

“Oh, of course you do,” Janus smiles down at him like he’s a child who just badly solved a puzzle game. “Nothing gets past you. Truly, I’m so impressed.”

Patton’s certainty wanes. Villains who just got their plans exposed should look angry, not like they’re secretly laughing at you.

“Well, if you’re done spouting wild accusations, would you mind closing the door behind you?” Janus stretches his arms above him. “I want to get my eight hours of sleep in before I get thrown into the next torture session tomorrow, thank you very much.”

“Torture-? Oh, haha, very funny!”

“Not joking, unfortunately-”

“Why do you do this??” Patton has to resist to stomp his feet in frustration. “Why do you keep on lying?”

Janus lowers his arms, his smile falling away. “I don’t.” He says. The seriousness of his voice throws Patton off, but even so he scoffs.

“Yes, you do!”

“I really don’t. There’s not a single word in those files that isn’t the honest truth.”

“Yeah, right,” Patton crosses his arms. “Tell that to the people outside! Or to my superiors!”

“Oh, by all means, bring them in,” Janus says seriously. “Bring them all in! Your precious masters, all my supposed victims… I think you’ll find that they’ll all agree with my side of the story.”

Patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, uncertainly. The rigid seriousness of the other makes him more nervous than he hopes he lets on. He was so used to the dangerously charming smooth talking Janus that he had no idea what to do with this calm, somber Janus. Oh, why hadn’t he taken Logan with him? He would have known what to say!

“Oh really?” Patton eventually says, sounding more sure of himself than he actually was. “What exactly is ‘your side of the story’? Go ahead, I could use a laugh!”

“You want to know, little mouse?” Janus says, and just like that the dangerous smile was back. “You really want to know?”

Patton swallows, but tilts his chin up defiantly. “Yes.”

“Well, you asked for it…” Janus hums thoughtfully, gathering his thoughts for a second. “My side of the story is about how years ago a small company gained interest. Funded by the richest of the rich of the world this company created unwilling abominations. Children reared only to use as weapons to hold the world hostage. So that those richest of the rich could create a planet where the lowest of the low were forced to work for them. Leeching of the world’s natural resources like parasites, while the rest of us peasants suffer as a result. Of course, that was the system even before these children became their shiny new atom bombs, but now… Now they had safeguard. A safety net that ensured no one would ever dare to rebel against them. Well…” Janus smiles. “Almost no one…” Janus inspects his fingernails casually again. “Of course, to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by such things as icky morals, they justify their actions by saying it was for the greater good! By saying this system created…” Janus raises an eyebrow at Patton. “An Endless Peace?”

A silence falls between them. Then Patton lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? You think I’m going to believe that? I’m not dumb, you know!”

“Dumb, maybe not,” Janus shrugs. “Naïve, however…”

“I don’t believe you!” Patton says proudly.

“You were born and raised at AEP, weren’t you?” Janus asks. “Told from a young age you were born to be a superhero? To help people? Tell me Patton, have you ever been away from this building for anything else than superhero business? Or talked to anyone who isn’t approved by EAP first? Anyone at all?”

Patton tries to think of an answer, but comes up empty. “The people in this building protect me,” He answers instead. “Protect me from people like you, who would exploit my powers for evil!”

“Trust me honey, you’re not the one who needs protection out there…” Janus mutters.

“I don’t believe you.” Patton repeats, a bit more uncertain this time.

“Fine. Don’t then.” Janus shrugs. “I don’t need you to believe me for it to still be true.”

The absolute confidence in Janus’ voice infuriates Patton, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“EAP is a good company! We actually help people, unlike you!” Patton yells, now actually stomping his foot. “You stand there trying to tell me you’re so noble, when you have NO PROOF for anything you claim!!”

“Proof?” Janus growly lowly. “You want proof? Fine!” Angrily he grabs the edge of his bandages and starts unwrapping his arm. “I’ll give you proof!

Patton inhales a sharp breath as Janus unwraps the last bandages. His arm is completely raw and swollen, oozing with barely healed wounds. His stomach turns at the sight of angry deep black burns strewn over any flesh that got spared.

“They tore the scales off my arm,” His cool façade finally shows cracks as Janus’ voice shakes. “One by one they ripped them off my skin. Even when I finally talked they didn’t stop. They continued on until my arm was bare, and the iron they placed in the fire was white hot. That’s how I got these…” Hovering his fingers over one of the burns he swallows. “Obviously I told them old hiding places, long since abandoned. It will keep them busy for a while, but when they realize I’ve given them old information…” He rubs his jaw absentmindedly. “They said they would take my teeth next. Too bad... I’ve grown quite fond of my fangs.”

“They…” Patton shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from Janus’ tortured arm. “They wouldn’t do this…”

Janus’ eyes turn cold, his collected mask back on. “Obviously, they did. Or do you think I would do this to myself to gain sympathy points with delusional so called ‘good guys’?”

“B-But-!! We are the good guys!! The people, they love us-!”

“Oh, please,” Janus rolls his eyes. “The only reason the ‘common’ folk sing your praises is because they’re too afraid that their ‘beloved rulers’ send you to destroy their homes next.”

“T-That-! That’s NOT true-!!”

“Do you know what they call your little ‘hero’ group outside of the little circle of rich assholes you protect?” Janus says with a nasty smile. “They call you ‘The Executioners’. Because the minute someone refuses to obey, to fall in line… They send you. To make sure the people know who’s in charge. To destroy any ounce of happiness they scraped up and make an example out of the corpses you and your friends leave behind in their wake!”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!” Patton shakes his head, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out that damned smooth voice.

“Face it, kid. You’re no hero. No… You want to know what you are?” Janus continues on mercilessly. “You’re a tool. A sharpened axe the elite of the world hold over the necks of the common people, so they continue working as proper frightened little drones. Nothing like a good threat to keep their servants from revolting against them.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!” Patton screams as he throws his fists against the glass, the lights above them flickering in sync with his outcry. His powers bursts out of him with a force he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid. Electricity climbs over the glass cell in living lightning, framing the villain like a cursed portrait. But Janus barely blinks as the electricity crackles around him.

“If you are so sure that I’m lying… Why are you still here?” He asks thoughtfully. “Why come here at all if you truly think I lied in these files? Unless…” Janus says slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “Unless you’ve already seen the cracks in their pretty façade. Is that it?”

Just as quick as his power had acted up it retreats. “I… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Patton stammers as he pulls his hands away from the glass, the bright glow of the electricity dying in his fingers. He steps back but Janus follows, like a shark that smells blood in the water.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Janus breaths out a disbelieving laugh as he shakes his head. “When did you start to notice the holes in their logic? Started to taste the bitterness in their pretty lies? How long have the doubts been eating at you, Patton?”

“That’s not…” Patton starts weakly, but any other rebuttals wither and die before they can leave his mouth.

“You’ve seen glances of their true faces,” Janus continues. “And you hoped that I would what? Comfort you? Deny everything and let you wallow in your own self-denial? Be the so-called ‘villain’ you think I am so you can continue feeling good about yourself?” Janus chuckles, lowly, the sound wrapping around Patton’s throat like a noose. “Come now darling… Did you really think I was that kind of person?”

It distinctly feels like something inside him breaks. The pretty wall of his superhero persona crumbles and crashes down, leaving Patton with only the ugly truth that wall had kept hidden from him. The pride and praise of the past week now suddenly tastes like bitter ash in his mouth.

He hurt people. He hurt the world. He did he did he did he did he DID-!!

He can’t take any more. Patton’s legs give away beneath him as he crumbles in front of the glass, his chest heaving with sobs. Pulling his hands through his hair he buries his face in his knees, tears dripping down his cheeks. Janus says nothing while Patton’s sobs echo in the room. He only stares down at the shattered hero at his feet with a distant kind of satisfaction.

"What do I do...?" Patton eventually whispers when the tears finally slow. "What can I do to make this right…?"

Janus grins, kneeling down to look the hero straight in the eye.

"You could start," He purrs. "By getting me out of here."

--

Patton walks through the halls he’s walked through a thousand times. His heart hammers a mile a minute in his ears, almost deafening him. Yet it can’t keep him distracted from the person currently running after him, sticking out amongst the grey walls like a sore thumb in his bright white prison grubs. They halt at an intersection, pushing their backs against the wall and holding their breath as soldiers run past in the next hallway.

“I’m going to need your phone.” Janus suddenly whispers, making Patton bite back a yelp.

“I-I don’t have one-!” He stammers. Janus gives him a long-suffering look.

“I’m not surprised, yet somehow still disappointed.” Janus sighs as he impatiently moves past him. Just as Patton wants to ask what he’s planning, Janus darts out of the dark corridor, as quick and ruthless as the snake he is and grabs the last soldier in the platoon that passes them. He gives her no time to alert the others in front of her as Janus covers the soldier’s mouth, drags her back into their corridor and sinks his teeth into her neck.

“What are you doing?!” Patton hisses.

“Making sure we can get out of here!” Janus hisses back as he pulls his teeth from the soldier’s neck. The woman’s eyes are already drooping, despite her effort to raise her voice in alarm. By the time Janus lowers to the ground she has fully lost consciousness.

“You can’t do that!! She’s just doing her job!” Patton furiously whispers as Janus searches her pockets.

“Yeah, well, currently her job would be to shoot me on sight, so excuse me if I would rather not die!” Janus finally victoriously pulls a phone from the soldier’s pocket. Grabbing the soldier’s hand for a second to make her unlock the screen, he then furiously starts texting.

“What are you doing??” Patton repeats, just as frantic.

“Arranging our getaway ride, if all goes well,” Janus says as he finishes the text and hits send. “Now we just need to get out of here and keep hidden until they can come for us!”

“Right… Right!” Patton nods. Oh, why did he do this again?? “I know how we can get out of here! We’ll have to follow-!”

“Patton?”

Patton freezes at that familiar voice. Turning he comes face to face with Virgil, wrapped in his favourite hoodie and sleepily rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. How could he have forgotten his teammate’s insomnia? Or his habit to wander around until he got sleepy??

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Virgil yawns. “Do you want a lecture from Logan about proper sleep schedules? Because trust me, they’re not very-”

Virgil freezes as Janus rises to his feet behind Patton. His eyes dart between him and Janus, gasping as he finally spots the unconscious soldier on the ground.

“You…” Virgil’s voice turns dark, the shadows behind him moving on his unspoken command. “I don’t know how the FUCK you got out, but you will step away from my teammate RIGHT NOW and get back to your cell, or you’ll regret it!”

“No thank you,” Janus smirks. “While I thoroughly enjoyed your hospitality, the room service here is positivelyabominable. Not to mention the horrid excuse you call cuisine. I don’t think I’ll return here soon.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Virgil growls, gathering his famous shadows in his hands.

“Virgil, NO!!” Patton screams and steps between the two before Virgil can throw his attack.

“Patton, get out of the way!”

Patton shakes his head. “No! You have to let us pass, Virge!”

“What do you mean-?” Virgil stops, furious disbelief etching across his face. “…It was you… You helped him escape-!”

“I…” Patton swallows and nods. “Yes, yes I did… But Virgil-! It’s not what you think! We’ve been lied to, Virge!”

“Yes, by HIM!!” Virgil points at Janus, who wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. “You know, the enemy that we’ve tried to capture for literal years??”

“No, not him! The AEP! They’re the ones who lied to us! They’ve been using us, Virge! They used us to… To attack innocent people! We’ve hurt the world instead of saving it! We have to set this right!!”

“What the hell are you talking about-??”

“Virgil, please,” Grabbing Virgil’s hands in his Patton gives his teammate- No, his best friend- a pleading look. “Come with us! Help me take down the organization! They’re the bad guys, Virge! It was never him!” Patton gestures to Janus.

“Oh that’s fine, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus mutters.

“We can fix this, Virgil. You and I!” Patton says, fragile hope growing in his voice. “Please, trust me on this! Let’s run away together from this place and actually help!”

Virgil stares at him, the tense silence stretching on in the hallway like a wire slowly growing taut. Virgil’s eyes flicker between him and Janus indecisively. Patton hopes for a brief second that maybe, just maybe-

His stomach drops when Virgil’s gaze remains on Janus, and just like that the wire snaps.

“You…” Virgil snarls. “I don’t know what lies you fed him-”

“Virgil, please no-!!” Patton pleads, but Virgil shoves him aside.

“But I will not let you get away with it!” The shadows behind him move again, answering their master’s call as they gather around him. “I will take you down for this!!”

“Must we?” Janus sighs exaggeratedly before he straightens himself and grins his lengthening fangs bare. “I suppose I have time in my busy schedule to teach you some manners, Stormcloud.”

Virgil growls and aims his hands towards Janus, the shadows behind him brewing and moving in dark colours without hesitation. Patton doesn't think. Later on he wishes he had. He doesn’t remember moving, yet he sees his hand grab onto the back of Virgil's neck. He doesn't want to see the sparks fly out of his hand, making the Virgil’s body go rigid before promptly becoming weak in his grasp. But it doesn’t matter what Patton wants, as Virgil's body hits the floor with a thud quieter than it should've been.

Paralyzed Patton makes eye contact with Janus over Virgil’s unmoving form. The other man stares at him dumbfounded, uncertainty and shock fighting for the same place on his eyes. Patton looks down, trembling.

Oh god what had he done.

For the second time that evening Patton felt his knees give way beneath him as he fell next to his friend.

“Virge…” Patton whispers, pained regret shaking in his voice.

“Patton-!” Janus walks up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders but Patton barely feels it.

“I’m s-so sorry-!!” Patton sobs over his friend’s unconscious body.

“Patton.” Janus says, his voice so calm that Patton’s muddled mind readily clings to it. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“I-I c-can’t j-just leave him h-here-!!”

“You must. The commotion must have alerted someone. This place might be crawling with guards soon. We have to go.”

Patton looks up in Janus’ eyes, their mismatched colours strangely grounding him and he nods. Janus helps him to his feet, and after one last look towards Virgil, Patton turns and they run.

Much later Patton would look back on this night and barely remember their escape. He leads Janus through the facility on automatic pilot, only managing to avoid capture because of Janus’ vigilance and sharp hearing. In the end Janus has to take out only one additional guard, who had been watching the emergency exit that Patton had lead them too. This soldier went down much easier than the first one. Patton supposed he hadn’t expected anyone to come to the quiet, halfway forgotten exit. But how could Patton forget it? He and Virgil had used this door as kids to escape from training once in a while.

Virgil…

Janus hastily runs through the emergency exit with Patton closely following behind. The cold night air finally shakes Patton's mind awake, away from the phantom feeling of Virgil's neck and how his hand tingles slightly. He almost wishes the tingle hurt.

They run loudly on the pavement, aiming for speed over secrecy. Patton’s breath comes in heavy pants and his lungs prickle, yet he dares not to stop or to look back. When they reach the high fence it takes Patton’s every bit of concentration to stop the electricity singing in the fence, guiding it away from Janus as they climb over it.

The sirens start as they safely land on the other side of the fence.

With the alarms blaring behind them Patton follows Janus to where the concrete leads into worn-in dirt, and where that leads to sticks, leaves, and not many traces of society. Patton's breath hurt in his chest, but knows he can't stop for a moment. He doesn't bother looking behind him either.

After what feels like hours but were more likely minutes, Janus skids to a halt, his breath forming clouds in the cold air as he leans heavily against a tree. Patton leans his hands on his knees, catching his breath. In the distance the alarms continue blaring.

“D-Do…” Patton gulps, exhales. “Do you think we’re safe…?”

Janus looks at him. “I don’t know…” He says, and Patton hates the raw honesty he hears in his voice. He suddenly much prefers the smooth lies his former enemy could spin at a drop of a hat. If they’re caught, he'll suffer Janus' previous fate or worse. Patton doesn't want to think about how it could get worse.

Just as he’s about to sit down, resigned to his new fate, a bright spotlight illuminates their spot in the forest. Patton can’t stop the startled scream as spots dance in his vision at the sudden brightness, the rumbling of an aircraft above them finally overpowering the sound of his wildly beating heart. They had found them already??? Or…

“Ahoy down there!” A nasally voice shouts down over the intercom as a rope is lowered from the aircraft. “Did some clown order a clown car??”

Patton puzzlingly frowns, but besides him Janus grins.

“Hold on, Heart Shock!” Janus grabs the rope with one hand and throws his other arm around Patton’s waist to hoist him up close. “Our ride is here!”

Before Patton can form some kind of protest the rope is hoisted up. A high-pitched shriek tears from his throat as the ground falls away beneath them. Patton never liked flying or heights in general. No matter how many times Roman took him for a flight he never got used to it. So he throws his arms and legs around Janus koala style and buries his face into the other man’s scaled neck. He dares not to peek as they dangle above the ground until he feels hands grab him and Janus. Excited voices ring in his ears as the hands drag them both into the aircraft. As they land on the metal floor with a heavy thud a blush creeps in on Patton’s cheeks when he untangles his arms and legs from Janus’ frame.

“Snake Daddy is in the nest!!” The same nasally voice shrieks over the roaring engines. “HIT THE GAS!! GO GO GO!!!”

The door behind them slams closed, and the aircraft flies off with a speed that throws Patton backwards, making an inelegant roll on the hard metal floor. Janus on the other hand sits up his knees, giving the man that runs up to them an exasperated look.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” Janus sighs. The man gives him a grin that makes his moustache curl up mischievously. Either Patton’s eyes are deceiving him, or the man resembles Roman to an uncanny degree.

“And I told you to get used to your new codename, Double-D!” The man joyfully says. “Deal with it!”

Janus rolls his eyes, but nonetheless grabs the hand stretched out to him. As he’s pulled to his feet Janus throws his arms around the other.

“Remus, you absolute insane wonderful man you,” Janus breathes shakily. “How the fuck did you get here so fast?”

“Are you kidding me??” Remus eagerly returns the embrace. “We’ve been hiding around here for five days now!”

“You what-” Janus reels back, grasping Remus by the shoulders “Why??”

“To rescue you, of course!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake- You promised that if I ever got captured you would continue where I left off! Not risk everything by trying to rescue me!”

“Yeah, well,” Remus shrugs. “You promised me that I would get to watch you use the president’s head as a football some day! And god fucking dammit, you are not getting out of that promise, no matter how hard you try!”

Patton flinches at the gruesome fantasy, but Janus only wetly laughs and draws Remus back into a hug. Over the whole aircraft relieved and excited voices ring, welcoming Janus back.

Amidst the excitement Remus halts as he finally spots Patton, who still sits quietly amongst the excited rebels.

“No fucking way…” Remus breathes. “You actually got us a hostage?”

Patton freezes. As all eyes turn to him, he suddenly remembers again that he’s surrounded by people he previously thought as his enemies. And to them, he still was the enemy.

"Double-D, you should've warned me you would bring a hostage! I would've brought the rougher rope with us!" Remus pulls away from the hug and quickly moves towards a container, which once opened Patton could see was full to the brim with rope of various colours, each appearing thick and rough enough as they were.

Janus dramatically sighed. "He’s not a hostage."

Remus stops rummaging through the container and quirks an eyebrow. "But Heart Attack or whatever is one of those stupid guys! Wait.” Remus squints suspiciously at Janus. “Don't tell me you're breaking up with me and joining his side."

“Not quite,” Janus says as he extends a hand to help Patton to his feet. As he stands Janus lightly places his arm over Patton's shoulders. A shield against the suspicious glares from the rebels around him. "You see, my darlings… He's joining ours."

[pokedash55]

Raincloud HC and Mini Fic

BENTHOMAAR/VANIA HC DUMP.

 CAN BE READ PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC BUT THESE TWO WOULD BE PERFECT FOR EACHOTHER EITHER WAY

Inspired By @parachutingkitten

- They saw each other at the nya tribute but didn't get to actually meet

-Bentho became king of merlopians but struggles with citizens seeing him as a real king, as many still are distrustful of the surface world

-He has gluttonous there as the royal scientist and Gripe helps him out, but the citizens still don’t view him has a true king after what happened with Kalmaar

-Bentho and Vania have a cordial meeting for royal business

-Vania is struggling less with her people and more with her city economically recovering.

-Bentho wants to bind the kingdoms somehow, since her kingdom is so inland that if they had good relations with a mountainous region it's one step closer to accepting him.

-They are skeptical of SURFACE DWELLERS not humans so it's a good try. 

-establishes trade and economic relations with each other. Maybe trade or sell deepstone and bioluminescent stones for jewelry and architecture in return for some shintaro product unavailable under the sea. Maybe a metal or type of cuisine? Not sure. Flowers perhaps since they have so many in the garden. 

-Both relate to having less than respectable family members and share experiences with defeating them

-share new ruler problems they face and can relate to each other very well

-benthomaar can keep up with the bubbly energy of Vania and they both have a backbone to keep their bond from being too unhealthy, fluffy and overly optimistic.

-bentho has trauma from kalmaar's abuse and goes overboard to try and impress vania and thinks he has to be the best damn guy and best royal ally possible to keep her current friendship

-Vania is pretty easily impressed and is very vocal with her admiration so he'll be overwhelmingly happy and confused when she latches on so quickly.

-she'll show him around the sky city, bentho never been so high up, and can introduce him to her allies down below.

-Bentho loves the caves much more than the city in the sense that it's more comforting and all the underwater streams and lakes remind him of home.

-all streams lead to the ocean so I'm not surprised if they find out the water is connected to merlopian seas some how

- this can also work to compliment the kingdoms

- Like Merlopia can reach out and achieve diplomacy with another kingdom instead of being so islationist, and shintaro struggles with moving on from a unsustainable and horrific economic system so they could help eachother alot. 

-Both very isolated so coming together may be a good step for both countries’

-Merlopians could be accepting of geckles and munce since they live below the surface, and the shintarins live high above it (so they couldn’t flood it even if they wanted to). It’s baby steps towards liking the rest of NINJAGO as a continent. 

-When they become closer friends she Opts for calling him Ben or Benny, since she is so outgoing and bubbly like that, but immediately backtracks and asks if it was ok and apologizes, saying she went over the line

- He would stand up for himself and deny BENNY but I think Ben would be a cute name between the two uwu

-Benthomaar is naturally formal in his ruling and has to push himself to relax while Vania is very lax and friendly with her ruling but needs to push herself to be demanding and formal (She took awhile to use the “Princess” card against Halmaar, opting instead for mutual understanding)

-ok quasi-fic time

___________________________________________________________

FIC SKELETON (might finish writing someday but here’s the basics with some interaction)

 summary: : They spend the day learning about each other kingdoms, and in turn eachother. 

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Shintaro

Vania goes about giving Bentho a tour of her city and he is overly courteous of her. She finds it cute at first but then she starts worrying if Benthomaar thinks she can’t handle herself.

Introduces Bentho to Chompy. He finds the dragon very cute and that gets a big smile out of him, really showing off his very sharp teeth. Chompy loves him immediately and starts to climb over him and sit on his head and stuff. Bentho reciprocates pretty much immediately, no stranger to the values of an animal's unconditional love. (The only love that ever seems unconditional in his experience.)

 He has trust issues from Kalmaar and tries extra hard to earn love so he goes overboard sometimes, he’ll be the sort to open doors literally all the time, agree with her ideas more aggressively than is really needed, go out of his way to try and physically protect her from perceived threats, etc. Not knowing this fact, and being insecure about her own leadership skills, she thinks he is babying her, or worse, pitying her. She eventually tells him that she can indeed handle herself. 

“I can handle myself Benthomaar, you don’t have to do all these things for me.”

“I… Know that”

“You’re very sweet and I appreciate your generosity but… this”, gestures to all the things he bought or given or made for her, and gestures to the situation they were in where he immediately went to protect her from, “simply is too much”

The walk back is a tad awkward after that. Bentho remarks he’s never been so high up before and he does seem very dry from the heavy winds and cold air. 

Good thing it’s about time to show him the lower parts of the Kingdom anyway. 

“Halmar, I am escorting Benthomaar down through the mountain. Can you be in charge while I’m gone.”

“As you wish my queen”

Benthomaar looked the armored man up and down. “Halmaar? Are you of royal blood too?” he asked.

“What?” Halmar bluntly questioned aloud to the merlopean king before sputtering out in a bow, “I mean, Pardon?... Your majesty” 

“Benthomaar this is Halmar. My right hand advisor and head of our defensive force.”

“Oh. In my people, -Maar is given to that of royalty. ‘Halmaar’ means Brave Sea. ”

“Well I can assure you he’s very brave.” Vania beamed as Halmar recovered from his bow. “And will protect the city while I'm gone” she reminded him playfully, as she moved benthomaar out of the temple. 

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 2: The Dungeons

Going through the dungeons vania remarks on her father’s previous ruling over it. They share stories and struggles. 

Talks about her father and how the ninja came to help. Goes into the topic of her ruling struggles. 

“Now that I have helped bring King Vangelis, my father I mean, to justice, people expect me to fix everything. They come to me asking for plans to retain Shintaro's glory, or with pleas for more funds. The people put so much faith in my father and, although his actions were Terrible… it made the city so wonderful for everyone living here. I don’t think I’ll be able to make Shintaro prosper the way he did. I love my people but they expect so much of me all at once. I admit It is very difficult to keep track of it all.”

“That sounds rough, but at least your subjects care for you. The people of Merlopia don’t see me as their king...and they have every right to. I helped the surface dwellers and my actions led to Kalmaar’s death. In their eyes I am a traitor…. Many don’t follow my commands unless they are directed through Gripe. It’s understandable they won’t respect me… I was adopted after all...”

“Well I respect you. Why, from the past--” counts on her fingers with a tongue sticking out “-- three hours I’ve officially known you, I’d say you’re a wonderful ruler! I hereby royally dub you a great king! You can tell your people that!”

*Small air laugh recovering from his Sadness* “Thank you, Vania. I don’t know how much they’ll regard a compliment from the mouth of a ‘surface dweller’, though”  

*Smol vania /hj sad pout to one side*

“But I appreciate it, really!!” He corrected arms waving at his front, trying to recover from his previous, in his eyes, disrespectful remark (also in his eyes failing horribly at doing so. He needs to queen to like him. This isn’t going well and-)

“I know you do.” she beamed, “ Now Come on, I see the cart tracks we’re getting closer!!” she happily stated, almost skipping past the new King.  

Bentho looked onward at the long haired blond who was trying to walk and balance on the rim of the track, and smiled with relief that she is so easy going at him. He essentially disregarded her royal decree to her face and she brushed it off like nothing. Trimaar had always honored heavy respect towards other royals but it seems this Queen runs things very differently. Even the day had been tame. It felt more like some playdate than an official royal gathering,but with how stressful becoming King had been it was a pleasant change of pace. 

“Hey Bentho! We’re HEeeereee!” Vania waved excitedly as the other royal caught up to her standing near a steep ledge leading down to an opening with a large passageway. 

Have to go down a large mountainous trench first to reach the dungeons. Benthomaar prepares to scale down the cliff but Vania brings out her wings and tells bentho to hold on. She flies him down the cave--

(Flying is vaguely exciting, but also vaguely terrifying. He’s never really had to deal with the possibility of falling before. Buildings in Merlopia aren’t that tall and you literally can’t fall underwater, there’s always something supporting you.) 

The two meet up with the chancellor of the geckles first. He welcomes Queen Gania and her friend Genthomaar and he asks first for trial by mino, but Vania orders him off. Scoffing at her majesty’s boring overriding of their usual procedures he opts for a simple vote for bringing the new unfamiliar face to the munce queen. Bentho gets rocks thrown at him and the geckles cheer as they escort the two to where murtessa is. Vania giggles at him.

 Next up is the muntz. 

So she'd challenge him to a quick duel to see if he is a fitting ally. Naturally Benthomaar rocks with a spear, so he's good, but he'll be really confused at first and probably not want to fight her.

He doesn’t win, but Murtessa sees through his fighting that he has a good heart, and a brave one. She declares him an ally of the Munce. King Menthomaar. And then gives him a hearty slap on the back and invites them all to dinner. They politely decline (Vania, to preserve her stomach. Munce food is, ah, something else.) 

Murtessa thinks Bentho is a good kid and a good fighter. She thinks it's funny how polite he is, though. Gives him some royal advice that he’d be a little better off if he would carry himself like a king. “Confidence! Important in every Munce ruler!” 

Bentho finds her and Munce a bit...much, but they also kind of remind him of the Maaray back home so he also finds it kind of familiar. (Also he doesn’t know it, but shark Merlopians are kind of rough and tumble, too. Like Munce, but without tight knit families or a set kingdom.) 

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 3: Merlopia

Goes back to the temple to discuss whats next. 

“If we are going to be partners in this royal engagement, I think you should see My homeland. Merlopia”

Vania just laughs at his wording

“What did I say?” Genuine confused babi just trying to be overly courteous cause he feels like he must be a GOOD KING. ULTRA KING.

Brings her to the beach. He signals her to wait there and he dives into the water to ask nya for some help in bringing Vania down the depths. She knew the bare basics of what happened but seeing nya in such a state made her a tad saddened. 

“Nya. Can you help bring my friend to Merlopia?”

Nya nods all slow and goddess like. “You helped me defeat Wojira, correct? For that I’ll grant you this.”

“Thank you, nya”

“That’s NYA??” 

“Do I… know you.”

She just frowns at that question. She knew she and nya were not super close but to be forgotten like that. Ouch. “I guess not”

Nya makes a large air bubble and descends quickly down the depths. And like cool camera pans and junk and bentho is riding the wave nya is making outta the bubble and vania sticks her head outta the bubble for a sec to meet his gaze and feel the current go by. Fluff insues

“Don’t worry there is air in the palace”

Vania just loudly exclaims in relief cause honestly she was prepared to be living in a bubble forever. 

Nya just...disintegrates. Which is a bit strange to see, even for Vania who usually likes weird stuff. But she doesn’t linger on it long because ooooohhh Merlopia is so pretty! I mean Shintaro is pretty too but this is a whole different kind of pretty. It’s like the gardens of Shintaro, but that’s the whole city. It’s so colorful compared to the flawless Ivory City. 

They tour around a little bit, with Vania looking at everything in interest. She even likes the Royal Ripper Sharks (who are being treated a bit nicer now that Kalmaar is gone, and are sicced on people far less frequently than before.) Benthomaar gets a bit nervous when Gripe runs up to him with a bunch of kingly concerns and kind of tells him a lot of noncommittal responses. 

Since they declined dinner with the Munce, Vania’s stomach starts rumbling, and she embarrassedly admits that she was pretty hungry. 

Benthomaar invites her to dinner in Merlopia. 

They eat  while discussing trade stuff and diplomacy? (And also their day and the G&M and such.) 

Also a fun chance to make up some Merlopian culture and food, and for him to share it with her. Unsurprisingly, it’s a lot of fish. But that’s honestly great because they don’t have a lot of that in Shintaro. There are a few streams a hike away that she's had every now and again, but for the most part fish isn’t something eaten often in Shintaro. 

Benthomaar is pretty happy with this set-up because he had been eating dinner all by himself which was very lonely and wistful.  It's much nicer with her company, and he needs her to know that, and really wants her to stay around and to like him so that they can do this again. So his super-manners-having-to-prove-himself-worthy-of-friendship kick in again and he starts getting super formal and passing her stuff and offering dishes a little overzealously and such and she's like "this again what the huh?"

“My lord, you're...doing it again.” 

“Sorry, I’ll do better.” 

“Better? You’re doing just fine. Really. The meal is great, the presentation is beautiful, and you’re being so kind. I just...don’t need this much attention at once, that’s all.” 

No I’m not it’s not good enough. I’m not good enough. * frowns silently * *internal screaming * 

They decide to meet again later to discuss trade and commerce deals and both bow goodbye after dinner, but soon as she leaves the dining room and gets lost roaming the temple (this palace is constructed like the caves how do they find anything) eventually ends back up at the dining room, where benthomaar is cleaning up the table and stacking the used dishes and they both realize that she can't get back up on her own. They share a laugh and Bentho promises to escort her back up.

Vania wonders why he is cleaning and not the palace servents so she decides to help him clean up, since it seems his people weren’t going to. 

The end

(Also Nya is busy being a goddess somewhere else, so they’ll have to get her transportation back at a later date. With any luck there’s an air-breather-friendly manta saddle that they can use for her.)

________________________________________________________________

They are too precious for this world someone please do more of thisssss

[gallickingun]

remember me || t.a.

SUMMARY: Tamaki Amajiki saves a civilian. He doesn’t expect her to buy him coffee and teach him about the wiles of floral culture.

PAIRING: Tamaki Amajiki x Fem!Reader  RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mild violence and language, etc.  WORD COUNT: 6.9k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first submission for the @bnhabookclub​ provisional license event! if you want to participate, here is the post! and if you want to apply for the server, here is the application!! 

i have to get sappy here for a second. i had 2 panic attacks while writing this because i was so self-conscious, so riddled with doubts about a. was i getting tama’s character right b. was i even on par with the great and wonderful writers of this fandom and c. am i proud of this? eventually, after talking it through, i realized that it doesn’t matter how i measure up to everyone else. i should be writing this because i want to, and because i’m enjoying myself. so, special thanks to @freckledoriya​ and @k-atsukidayo​ who have once again been my lifeline. i love you guys ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Tamaki Amajiki had never given flowers much thought.

He usually passes by the windows of a floral shop and notices the blossoms just enough to smell the variance of air – from stale to sweet – and then he moves on, not much effort spent towards the colorful display of petals in the open windows.

But now, after finding you, he cannot stop thinking about the way they bloom.

“Columbine,” your eyes light up, thumbs pressed to the dark red petals, “they are used to symbolize anxiety.”

Tamaki’s eyes graze over the flower, wondering how you could know so instantly that he might connect with this specific budding plant. The tether he feels to it is strange, something particular but also aloof – as if he could not place it if he tried.

Anxiety is something very relevant to Tamaki’s life, a demon he has struggled with every day since he could comprehend the reason his stomach tied into knots, the worry he keeps pent up in his chest burning ulcers into his belly. He wraps his arms around his waist at the memory of meeting you, the way his entire body was wrought with anxious thoughts, mind unable to comprehend the extent of your impact on him at the time.

You tilt your head as if able to realize that his mind has begun to spiral, “We don’t usually add these into bouquets, but something about them is just so beautifully broken, I can’t help but fall in love.”

It is a typical day on patrol when he first stumbles upon you, nothing special or out of the ordinary, not really.

Tamaki has been working under Fatgum’s agency for a few years to date, and he’s comfortable with the route that he’s been assigned, a routine he has held since the beginning of his deployment. The elder hero understood from the very start that Tamaki tends to try and avoid social interaction. In response, Fatgum made sure to create a patrol route so Tamaki could walk the least populated paths while also providing an effective amount of protection to the community. It’s the least he could do for the young Suneater, a new hero steadily climbing the charts despite his difficulty in speaking with the press outlets.

Some days Tamaki will try to stop by various vendors’ carts, eating foods that will create good manifestations for his quirk or just to support the local economy. It also allows him to try and force himself to have a discussion, even if there isn’t much substance to it, trying to grow more familiar with the ideology of small talk. He’s decided that he is going to stop by his favorite sushi bodega today, already thinking up his lengthy sashimi order as he starts towards the food stand.

And then he hears someone cry out.

Tamaki races in the direction of the distressed sound, channeling his quirk as he rounds the corner. The tentacles that are thanks to the octopus he regularly incorporates into his diet are extended from his fingertips, ready for action as soon as he skids to a stop in the street.

Your body is pressed against the wall of the alleyway, face cut by the brick beneath your cheek. You connect your gaze to his, your brilliantly shining irises seeking him out like a moth to a flame. Tamaki can’t help the way his chest constricts at the sight of such a helpless person, and then his heart lights on fire when he sees the burly man currently trying to take advantage of you. He snarls, digging his heels into the concrete, tentacles growing straight from his fingertips.

Before you can part your lips to try and beg for help or mercy, Tamaki is landing a swift blow to the thug’s head, successfully knocking him unconscious to the ground. You clasp your freed hands around your neck, coughing violently as you bend over at the waist, stars in your eyes and shards in your throat. A thin river of tears streams freely from your lids, and when you’re able to look back up at him, you’re far from embarrassed.

“Th-Thank you,” you manage, voice hoarse. You lick your lips and swipe your hands at your face to rid your skin of tears and snot, “Seriously. That guy-he came outta nowhere!”

Tamaki finds the adrenaline of the short-lived skirmish to have fled from his system, leaving behind only the crippling anxiety that makes him blush from head to toe. He swallows the growing lump in his throat when he realizes he’s been staring at you without responding for at least a full minute now. Your hands are shaking and your shoulders quiver, but Tamaki is frozen in place, feet unable to start towards you.

Fatgum taught him how to comfort civilians, but he’s never been good at it, and the way that you look at him like he hung the moon in the sky does not make the encumbrance of his task any less intense. He knows that the objectification and idolization of heroes is inevitable, no matter how poorly he projects himself onto the public. The reality of it all only does more to constrict his throat, the familiar shroud of apprehension blanketing his body and curling around his spine like a snake. It slithers its way up into his throat until he can’t breathe, tongue deadweight in his mouth.

“Black-eyed Susan,” you muse, plucking a set of three yellow flowers from a vase not too far from him. You turn the buds between your thumb and index finger, the canary-colored blossom blurring in midair as Tamaki tries to stay focused on it. He’s not so close with you that he can smell your perfume, a distinct scent even when you are hidden amongst the blossoms in the greenhouse, but near enough that your presence is dizzying.

It is hard to focus anyway, what with the way your eyes are sparkling under the lowlights of the greenhouse.

You bring the bright flower toward your face and scrunch your nose as you sniff it, eyelids fluttering closed in bliss, “They’re used to express a fierce sense of justice. Usually, we use these in our arrangements for hero galas and festivals.”

Your eyes turn to him, connecting with his violet irises as a smile tugs the corners of your mouth upward, “Don’t you think they’re stunning, Tama?”

For some reason, when he answers, you can’t help but feel there’s a duality to his words, as if he is saying one thing but meaning something else entirely. Tamaki’s eyes are trained in on your face, not the flower, and his lips move in slow motion, like syrup dripping from his tongue, “Oh yes,” Tamaki is close to smiling, “quite stunning.”

You return to your arrangement and begin to hum a gentle melody between heavy breaths as you meticulously place the flowers in their perfect order. The way your brow furrows, creases ever-present on your forehead, draws Tamaki’s attention.

For a fleeting second, he wonders if he were to press his mouth to your worried skin, would you find yourself able to relax? To allow your body to melt into his touch?

“U-Uh, yeah,” he forces the words out, a hand brushing the back of his neck to try and relieve some of the tension he’s feeling. Tamaki adjusts his cape, taking a step forward, just like Fatgum taught him in his earliest days of training. He reaches out his hand for you to shake, but you’re fumbling towards him to capture his frame in a hug before he can make sense of what is going on.

You cup his face in your hands as you pull back to look him in the eyes, completely oblivious, it would seem, to his current state of panic, “Thank you so much! You’re Suneater, right?”

Tamaki gulps down what is left of his dignity and nods in silent confirmation, eyes a little glossy as he gazes over your face. He takes in your features, noting the slope of your nose and the bow of your lips, and he wonders if he’s ever seen anyone as pretty as you before. Normally his body would turn him to mush at the mere sight of a person such as you coming so close to him, but there is something different about your aura, the way you carry yourself.  Your hands pull from his face, and he can’t help the manner that his body follows you, desperate for more.

Just as he’s coming to his conclusion about your beauty and grace, he realizes that you’re talking again, lips moving animatedly. Only this time, you aren’t speaking directly to him. You’re on the phone with the local police, letting them know that there’s been a low-level thief apprehended in the streets.

Tamaki is in awe of you – absolutely shocked at your ability to take charge of the situation, to hold onto it with an iron grip and make it your own. He should be the one alerting the cops, giving them an address and a rundown of what’s happened – that’s his job. And yet, here you are, phone to your ear and authority in your voice, detailing the scene down to the hair and eye color of the perpetrator currently propped up in the alleyway. He’s still unconscious, with his head lolled to the side with tongue protruding from his mouth.

Amajiki’s jaw is hanging just slightly, you notice, so when you step forward, crowding his space all over again, you nudge his chin with the crook of your thumb. A gentle giggle parts your lips, your head tilted in such a way that reminds him of a curious young animal, “Do you want to stop in at my shop? The police said they should be here any minute.”

“Y-Your shop?” he stutters, eyes flitting around to the different curbside stores on the strip of the road in an attempt to pinpoint the building you might be speaking of. He sees a few food stands and a bodega selling travel brochures, but nothing that screams you.

Although, does Tamaki really know enough about you to determine what kind of shop you might own or manage? He chastises himself for jumping too far ahead, his intense and sudden feelings forcing his heart to tumble over his inhibitions.

The habit of his emotions leaping into his throat is one he has struggled to curb for years now – he’s fully aware of his naturally forward-thinking spirit. He can take one action, one string of words, and force it into a new, paradoxical reality which he has fashioned all on his own in a matter of moments. The fabric of this new world is woven so intricately that it’s difficult for him to pull himself out of it, the alternate universe sucking him in and creating a vortex in which his mind can play.

You nod, grabbing your phone out of your pocket and unlocking it quickly, heading to your pictures folder for something specific. The split seconds in which you are distracted give him time to pull himself out of the recesses of his mind, to mend the fabric of time to bring him back to the present. You proudly hold the device up in his face, and he blinks harshly so he can focus.

The photograph on your screen shows him a rather familiar front display stand, dozens of budding flowers framing a beautifully crafted window sign that he’s seen every day since the start of his time at Fatgum’s agency. Tamaki tilts his head, trying to take in the store fully before he admits that he patrols by your flower shop consistently.

His head spins – he can’t believe he never stopped into your store before. Could he have met you a long time ago? Could he have seen you every day for the past few months, getting to learn your favorite flowers and flavors and the specific perfume you wear to smell so enticing? Another question plagues his mind – would you have stopped to give him the time of day had he not met you by saving your life?

“Oh,” he forces himself to speak, to dislodge himself from his tumultuous thoughts, “I-I’ve seen that shop before. You own it?”

You’re looking at the photo now, marveling at it with proud, shining irises. The picture distracts you from his enlarged pupils and blushing cheeks, and he’s thankful for the reprieve of your daunting gaze. Tamaki takes advantage of the seconds of your distracted scrutiny to map out your frame again, attempting to commit as much of you to memory as possible, given the short amount of time he has with you. He swallows the lump in his throat, licking his dry lips when you shove your phone back into your pocket, and he must refocus his eyes on some facet of your face other than your lips.

“There’s an adjoined coffee shop just to the left of it.” You’re smiling at him, and Amajiki thinks his heart is going to beat right out of his chest, flesh bruised from the intensity of its ministrations underneath the skin of his pectoral. The beginnings of a bashful tinge of pink warm your cheeks and ears, and Tamaki speculates whether your body is reacting to him or the heat of the afternoon. You lick your lips, “We can grab a scone and a cup of coffee if you like? My treat since you saved me.”

Tamaki is immediately refusing, holding his hands up as he shakes his head, ducking away from you entirely. “No, n-no, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Your lips are pulled downward in a pouted frown, eyes losing a little of their luster. Tamaki regrets instantly that his mind is so tied down to the rules, the reality that: “Heroes aren’t supposed to accept bribes, gifts, or rewards in any form.”

You are twirling a different yellow flower between your fingers – this one is much more fragile in nature. Tamaki eyes the papery blossom and ponders the antiqueness of its appearance, as if it were meant to be made into outdated floral prints on fine china.

Your eyes are focused in on the center of the bud, narrowing just enough that he can tell you’re trying to concentrate, “These are yellow carnations. Carnations can mean so many different things – red for heartache, white for innocence, pink for the reality of being unable to forget someone – but yellow, wow yellow is something much more draining, exhausting.”

Tamaki is scooting closer to you, his body drawn in by the tone of your voice, “If the other flowers mean something so kind, h-how can this one have such the opposite effect?”

Your eyes are sparkling, but there is something hidden in the back of them, an emotion he can’t quite pluck out. Perhaps you have a familiarity with this type of flower? Does it hold a different power for you than the others? Are there memories tucked away in the recesses of your subconscious that wreck your spirit when you see this type of blossom?

“That’s the beauty in the buds,” you laugh at your attempt at a jesting remark, eyes hooded now as you glance downward, “if you choose the wrong one, you’re sending a different message entirely.”

Tamaki’s knee bumps into yours, and usually, he would pull away, but this time something feels different, weightier than before. His eyes cannot stray from you; he finds it difficult even when he tries. And so, he succumbs to the desire and leans closer. Near enough to you now that your body heat is intoxicating once mixed with the headiness of your perfume. He tries to keep his eyes from crossing and his hands in his lap, body uncharacteristically wanton for your skin.

You take a breath, your chest expanding, “Yellow carnations mean rejection, disappointment. Usually, they’re used as a revenge flower, given to someone who has harmed you, or taken advantage of you. We don’t do many yellow carnation bouquets.”

The phrase only seems to make you more determined – your brows pull together so tightly that your forehead creases, “Well,” you pause, brushing your hand over your face, “I guess it just won’t have to be any of those things then.”

Tamaki’s head tilts just enough to remind you of a confused animal. His inky irises are zeroed in on you, raven locks of hair falling in his eyes, “Wh-“

“It’s a date!”

His eyes practically bug out of his head, sweat starting to bead down his temples. He shakes his head and steps back from you, holding his hands up in the space currently separating your bodies. Tamaki attempts at conversation, trying to tell you in as few syllables as possible that no, that’s not okay, we can’t, I don’t think that’s allowed…

You shrug, “Listen, call it whatever you want - it’s just coffee.”

The police arrive with sirens blaring a few minutes later, taking down a statement and emailing Tamaki a new set of paperwork he’s going to have to fill out later regarding how and why he used his quirk. He secretly is praying that you will flee the scene once you realize how mundane this part of the hero job can be – interviews and paperwork and confessions on the street.

Maybe you’ll find him and the whole process tedious enough that you’ll run away, back to your flower shop where you can live on in peace, pretending as if you never met him. It’s not always fun and games being a hero, and typically, once a civilian realizes it, they walk away from the scene at hand and find something much more interesting to take up their time. Tamaki is sure you must have a thousand other things you would prefer to be doing than waiting for him to wrap up a discussion with a police officer, or so he’d like to believe.

For some reason, it does not surprise him to find that you are still waiting on him, patiently sipping a bottle of water given to you by another officer while you chat, feet twisting back and forth to pass the time. Tamaki’s mind begins to wander again to how he always passed your shop and never found you outside, watering the arrangements or even in passing in the window. He would have waved – that’s what Fatgum taught him to do. He has been trained to interact with civilians, to remind them that he is there for their protection and safety, as a beam of light in the darkness of their daily lives. There are other shop owners who he knows by name, their faces somewhat cataloged in the recesses of his mind, so he knows he would recall meeting you.

You’re remarkable; Tamaki would have remembered you.

And yet, he knows that now, every time he passes your shop, he’ll think of you, regardless of whether or not you’re outside watering the plants or inside working on an arrangement. Tamaki will be distracted with thoughts of your pretty smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your shop. Surely he’ll never be able to walk the beat of this street again without remembering you, his heart hammering in his ribs as he plucks up the courage to pass your shop each day. He’d bank on the hope that you’d see him, that you’d turn to wave, and he might be able to catch a glimpse of you, maybe even hold a full conversation more than a few sentences long.

It’s like his eyes are magnets for you now, drawn to find your essence like a northern pole. He turns his head so he can look over the officer’s shoulder, trying to find your frame again amidst the police and pedestrians alike.

Tamaki is more than surprised to find you staring directly back at him.

“What are these?” Amajiki points to a white flower he realizes he should have memorized based on its simplicity, and yet the hero knows that he’d sooner hear your bell-like voice rattling off the meanings to him, “I feel like I’ve seen them before…”

“Daisies,” you giggle, plucking a plume from your wall on display.

You twirl the flower around, taking an inhale of it before returning your attention to the hero stood in front of you. Your body moves without thinking  - inhibitions tucked away in a box in your heart as you step forward, so your body is almost flush with his own. You press one palm flat against his chest, eyes connected with his inky orbs as you grin.

Tamaki is frozen in place, his feet cemented into the ground. He couldn’t escape you even if he wanted to, what with the way his anxious heart stutters underneath the cage of his ribs. Amajiki is somewhat thankful for the bone structure around the organ, acting like a prison so his heart can’t flutter out into the open. His body blushes from head to toe, painting his skin pink, when he feels your fingertips brush against his cheek.

“You look so pretty, Tama,” you murmur as you tuck the bright white blossom behind his ear.

You cannot pull your gaze away from the fragile petals held in place by the thickness of his violet hair and the curve of his ear. The blossom looks so lovely and light in contrast to his inky hair, tucked away like a secret between the strands and his skin. You are practically whispering when you speak next, afraid you might shatter some unspoken moment, “A daisy symbolizes innocence and hope. They’re typically used to symbolize the potential of new beginnings, a promise of faith despite a certainly somber situation.”

Tamaki’s face is bright red, but he manages to speak, “O-Oh, so a get-well type of flower?”

“Something like that.” Your hand ghosts over his cheek, pushing the bud deeper against his temple so the petals are flayed outward, a hauntingly beautiful smile painted on your lips. “It looks purely providential in your hair, Amajiki. Like a light in the dark.”

When you catch him staring, your left eye drops in a wink. Tamaki knows that he has never felt his entire body blush before, but now he is privy to what the sensation is like, an intense heat traveling from his ears to his toes. It’s hot and stimulating in all the strangest of ways, pinpricks of heat underneath his skin, making it seem like he may balloon up and fly away at any given time. He coughs to try and conceal the way his throat is bobbing, covering his mouth with his gloved hand. Even his palms are bright pink beneath the white leather of his suit, turned darker in shade by the overwhelming heat of your gaze but thankfully hidden by his gloves.

The eye contact between the two of you must make you bolder, because you are walking towards him now with purposeful strides. Tamaki knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make his body combust instantaneously to avoid talking with you, and he can’t quite run away when you’re striding towards him. None of those options would prove very heroic.

And, at the end of the day, despite his personal inhibitions and self-restrictions, his job is to be a good hero, to strive to provide the public with safety and comfort, and maybe today the word heroism just means coffee.

You step over to him, your body closer now than before, “You think you’re ready for that coffee now?”

“I-It’s three in the afternoon, what if the caffeine-“

“There is this cool, new invention called decaffeinated coffee,” you deadpan, raising a patronizing brow at him, smirk lilting your lips, “or you can always try tea.”

Tamaki runs his fingers over his jaw in trepidation, the pads of his digits soothing his sweating skin. He licks his lips and chews on the inner corner of his mouth, diverting his eye contact from you to the ground, focus now steadily on the toes of his boots.

The first thought in his mind is that he could be reported for this – he’s still on duty, and he’s decked out in his full hero costume. If he were to be spotted by one of the head heroes or a news outlet for being too friendly with a civilian after saving their life, it could end poorly for him in terms of his reputation. Not only would Fatgum be disappointed, the Suneater’s ranking would dip into the undesirable zone, and he’d probably lose a few of his current brand endorsement deals.

And yet, when you grab him by the elbow and loop your arm through his, Tamaki is frozen just long enough for you to begin dragging him down the street with little opposition.

“Hollyhock,” your eyes roll back in your head as you smell the pink flower in front of your face, a whimper caught in your throat at the dizzying scent. You groan, slumping down in your chair, “One of my favorites.”

Tamaki’s ears perk at the statement, eyes widening just enough so he can memorize the shape of the floral arrangement, stashing away the memory in hopes that he might pull it forward if he were to need it in the future.

“This flower is usually an accent piece, something to show that the recipient is ambitions, outgoing,” you place the stem back into the arrangement, neatly tucking it away to ensure the set is not disturbed. “They’re so stunning, such a phenomenal meaning. So often we don’t reward ambition, instead trying to stifle it.”

The hero turns toward the arrangement, eyeing it carefully. He tilts his head, careful of what he says next, “They a-are pretty flowers.”

“Yes,” your voice has quietened when you admire the blossoms, eyes glazing over as if you were under a spell. You sound far away when you speak, like you might be somewhere between here and there, feet planted on the ground beneath you but mind and soul much further away. “I think so.”

The scent of floral buds and coffee beans makes his head spin – or maybe it’s just the closeness of your body and the gentle breeze that blows your perfume towards him. Your smile mixed with the sunlight of the day makes Tamaki’s breath hitch, eyes averted from your gaze so he won’t turn every shade of red in the book.

“Bean There, Done That,” you rattle off the name of the shop, “they give me free coffee because I put together the floral arrangements for their shop.”

Tamaki is overwhelmed by the menu alone – his eyes roll back and forth over each flavor of roast and style of drink that they offer. Eventually, he feels terrible for holding up the line and he starts to stutter, attempting to spit out some flavor of some type of some kind of drink. His surprise only grows into silence when you half-step in front of him, palm jutting out to wrap around his bicep as you start ordering something that sounds like he might actually like it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologizes as you wait off to the side, his toes overlapping as he turns his feet inward. Your hand has since released him, but that does not stop his body from blazing beneath his costume from your touch. Tamaki coughs to hide the trepidation, “I-uh, I don’t really…I don’t really drink coffee? I-It doesn’t do much to help my quirk, so I tend to stay away from it.”

You shrug, folding your hands together at the knuckles in front of your waist, “It’s okay! I figured.” You’re turning to look at him, softness held in your irises as you behold his face, “Plus this place has a lot of options, so it can get kind of easy to feel bogged down, especially when you’re in a line, and other people are waiting impatiently.”

Wow, he thinks to himself, it’s like she’s in my head.

You’re pressing your palm to his arm now, warm touch once again like an anchor to his befuddled mind. When he looks down, you’re smiling, and some small part of him wishes your expression would never fade away into anything less miraculous than your grin coupled with dimpled cheeks and shining irises.

The crumpled petals look like sheets of tissue paper all bundled together, but somehow your magic touch makes them look appealing, beautiful even. Tamaki watches as your delicate hands swirl around the arrangement, tucking different colored flowers into various sections of the vase, transforming it from something that was one dull on its own to a symphony of color and meaning. He tilts his head and smiles, a gesture he’s discovered to be much easier now that he’s found you, “A-And, what are these?”

You glance up from your work, hands caught beneath a blossom, “Hydrangeas.”

He nods, as if he might know exactly what that word entails, lying through his teeth. When you see his unsure expression, you can’t help the grin that tugs upward on the corner of your mouth, “Do you know what these symbolize?”

Tamaki curls in on himself, shoes overlapping as his knees knock, “Uh, n-no?”

“Hydrangea flowers are beautiful because they are used to communicate gratitude for being understood,” you pluck a blooming flower from the stand, turning to hand it to him. When his knuckles brush yours, it’s like a dozen electric shockwaves tumbling through his veins, blistering his blood beneath the skin, turning him to ash inside. Tamaki gasps at the contact, but he’s thankful that you don’t laugh at his unexpected outburst, or rather you continue as if nothing happened, allowing him to shrink back in on himself with less shame than he may have been burdened with otherwise.

You lick your lips and take a short breath, eyes returned to the arrangement at hand, “Hydrangeas are beautiful and easy to manage, most people have them in their yards or gardens for decoration. I haven’t met many gardeners who know what the true meaning is, however, it seems that people always choose them for their bouquets.”

“When would you give someone a hydrangea?” Tamaki asks, eyes tracking your motions no matter which side of the arranging table you’re on. He cannot get enough of you, body drawn to your presence as he sits in wait of another story, another tale to tumble from your lips.

You are tilting your head, considering the question like it held the weight of a court behind it, as if Tamaki were your judge and jury. You sigh, the weight of the world seemingly settled on your shoulders, almost like you’d thought about this question far too much before, “I think if I were going through a hard time, and I had a friend who just was there for me, I would give them a bouquet of hydrangeas.”

“Why?”

He wishes he hadn’t blurted it out – how rude of him – but your answer makes it worth the accidental insensitivity.

“It’s easy to try and instruct someone on what you think they’re to do next,” you answer carefully, eyes following invisible directions as you stalk around the arrangement as if it were your prey. You grind your teeth together; Tamaki can tell based on the way your jaw quivers under the strain. “It’s difficult just to sit and listen. Even when it’s meant to be kind and helpful, it can sometimes be overwhelming to constantly be told how to react or what to say or how to handle a situation. Almost like they aren’t considering you at all, instead preaching to you of their prowess, how they might have done better if they were in your shoes.”

Your voice is almost chilling, hollow like a needle or a feather, “To find a friend who could listen to me without interjecting their opinion, without telling me what to do, now that is worthy of a hydrangea.”

He allows his subconscious thoughts to wander for a moment, thinking on the implications of you possibly having a mind-controlling quirk. Is that the reason he was okay with coming here? Was it all because you manifested a quirk that allows you to influence the minds of men? Or did your quirk work on women too? Did you-

“Hey,” your voice is gentle, subtle despite the loud volume of everyone else in the shop. Your palm is on his bicep, and for some reason, it anchors him instead of making him want to float away at the sudden contact. Your eyes are genuine as you whisper, “Breathe.”

Tamaki listens to you, taking a short breath in and exhaling soon after, eyes never losing direct contact with yours. His shoulders roll with tension, Tamaki’s lower lip tugged between the bite of his teeth. He swallows, realizing what a fool he must appear to be. How can a hero need assistance from a civilian just for breathing?

“I know what anxiety looks like.” You brush your thumb against his bulky costume, and Tamaki wishes a very secret thing then – something he would never admit aloud. He is curious about how intense your touch would be if he weren’t in his full hero outfit.

Would the pads of your fingertips be soft? Would he be able to feel the heat from your skin leeching onto his own? How much more calming might your skin be if it was direct on his own?

You tilt your head, a considerate grin tugging on the corners of your lips. He’s pleasantly surprised to note the dimples that dip inward, making you all the more appealing, as if you needed any additional help. Tamaki tries to say something, but it gets lost in his throat, so you speak instead, “I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you at the counter. I just wanted you to be a little more comfortable. I felt bad since I was the one who asked you to come.”

“N-No, it’s fine,” he forces the words out, turning to look you in the eyes. Tamaki grits his teeth together and muscles through the anxiety gripping his bones like a vice. He questions when the day will finally come when he might break. “I just feel bad for the people waiting on me.”

“This flower is pretty,” Tamaki licks his lips and leans forward, inspecting the blossom rather intently.

You laugh, and he’s reminded of how delicate you are when you giggle. His eyes are momentarily redirected toward you, taking in every curvature of your face, the dimples created by your smile, the way the gesture reaches your eyes, and it’s like little stars shine from your irises. Tamaki can’t help the way he grins, your laugh and your smile are infectious, much like your love for flowers.

“Have you seen one before?” you ask him, stepping towards the wall of blooms, “They’re a beautiful choice, a lot of meaning behind them. Most people have never seen one, though.”

Tamaki turns to face the flowers again, compelling himself to detract from your silhouette, “Are they rare?”

“Not necessarily,” you respond. You push yourself up on your toes to grab a bright red bud from the wall, twirling your choice blossom between your fingerprints. The scent wafts from the center of the flower, a small dusting of pollen coating Tamaki’s nose.

You giggle as you reach across to brush his skin free from the yellow powder, hand lingering just slightly too long for him to ignore your possible intent. You lick your lips, irises swallowed by your pupils for a moment, allowing him a direct line of sight into your soul. He reads you for a split second, and he swears that the look in your eyes mirrors his own when he thinks too hard about the way you move and the distinct notes of your smell. You’ve taken over every inch of his mind, every last curve of cerebrum and cerebellum.

For the first time, Tamaki is somewhat confident that you might be under the same spell.

“These are anemones,” you break him from his stupor, pulling his line of sight towards the budding flower in your grasp, “they signify anticipation – the build-up before the burst. Kind of like when you’re going to have your first kiss!”

Tamaki stutters, “T-That’s why you’d g-give someone this flower? Wh-When you want to kiss them?”

“No, silly,” you swat at him, smacking the back of your palm against his bicep. However, before you can turn away from him entirely, he notes the beautiful blush turning your cheeks to a rouge. You sigh dramatically with your hip leaned against the table, “I just mean that’s what the flower symbolizes – the tantalizing next step into the unknown.”

“Sounds scary.”

Your eyes light up as you turn to look at him again, irises gleaming under the bright lights of the flower shop, “Oh, but doesn’t it feel riveting?”

You are too close now, your pose intoxicating as he remembers every time you’ve come so near to him and he hasn’t had the strength to reach out and grasp you by the waist. Is this his time? Is this the day that he finally hands you a blossom and tells you the truth about the war raging inside of his chest? He has little soldiers prodding at his heart, stomping all over his bones, making them ache when he is adjacent to you.

Something within him wanders into the tumultuous thoughts of how you might respond, what his body would do in reaction to you. Would he finally find some relief from the plague of himself when he finally passes the threshold into adoring you on a physical level? Mentally, he’s been infatuated with you for some time now, but his throat can’t force the words out when he’s within ten feet of your frame.

Tamaki reaches out, his hand weighted down with reserve and implications. And yet, it’s almost like you lean into his touch before he can think on it too harshly, before he can make the rash decision to retract it and flee. He gasps audibly, eyes flashing to find your face, irises connecting like some sort of lighthouse out at sea, giving one another hope despite the disparity of every other moment leading up to this one.

“Anemones,” Tamaki whispers, voice curling from his throat, projecting onto you like a prayer. His hand is hot with hesitation as it rests on your rib cage, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Well, the people waiting on you can get over themselves. Everyone needs to learn a little patience, anyways.” You brush a hand through your hair, blowing away stray locks as they float back into your line of sight. You sigh, voice sounding dejected until your topic turns to blossoms, “I-I’m sorry if this wasn’t the place to bring you. I just figured it would be easy since it’s right next to my shop. I’d love to show you some flowers if you have time?”

“I-I’m on patrol,” he manages to push the words out from between his teeth, his throat grating like sandpaper, “I’m not sure…”

“Maybe another time, then?”

Dare he say you sound hopeful? And maybe even a little nervous?

How is it that each time his mind snaps him from you like a rubber band, you are right there, ready to stretch his limits yet again?

“I have seen this one…in Mother’s Day bouquets, I think?” Tamaki asks, unsure of himself this time as he circles the table. There are so many different types of blossoms, so many different meanings to decipher based on genus and color alone.

Your nod makes the pit in his stomach settle for some reason, and Amajiki releases a breath he didn’t realize that he was holding captive in his lungs. He’s not sure he understands why just the small reassurance of your head bobbing or your voice lilting on the right side of kind can calm the raging sea in his mind and stomach.

Tamaki is nearly tucked into your side, hands itching to find purchase against your body, his frame devoid of his typical uniform. The long sleeve shirt may cover the majority of his palms, but that does not mean he would refrain from baring his skin if it meant he could dip his toes into the edge of the ecstasy he might feel at your touch.

His fingertips are on the cusp of you, the calloused pads extended, beckoning you to come closer in a silent, desperate plea. Like your hearts are tied together in some other realm, as if you’ve done this a thousand times before, in a dozen other lives, you turn subconsciously to allow the collision of his fingerprints to impact the curve of your waist.

“Gladiolus means remembrance,” your voice is breathless as you point towards a set of buds that are seated proudly on the wall of flowers. You tilt your head upward, eyes shining as you press the heel of your palm into the column of his throat, thumb grazing his Adam’s apple to soothe it.

The weight of your words does not fall on deaf ears, Tamaki’s every sense on high alert as you speak next, “They can mean remembrance of someone past, or of someone you’re currently trying to honor. Or they can just mean a simple remember me.”

  ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[sirenizuku]

Or if we’re blind and the truth is just a painting in grey..

Izuku midoriya x gender-neutral reader!

BTW y/f/c stands for Your Favourite Color

 Quirk info: Your quirk, Siren, allows you to have most of the characteristics of a siren. You can hypnotise the weak-willed with your voice, alluring them to do whatever you wish. You can breathe underwater AND on land, because i can’t keep you in the water if I want you to go exist near 1-a. You also have razor-sharp teeth for biting people, though one of the downsides of biting people is that you enter a euphoric/manic state whenever you accidentally drink someone’s blood. Allllsoooo your legs turn into fins in water and vice versa Y’know. But they still have scales!!! Cute little scaly legs. Also other downsides include:Sore throat from singing, weakened immune system (not too badly) and occasional aches in the gills

Summary: You’ve been a villain your whole life, or at-least since your quirk developed... But you aren’t really a villain. You’re a vigilante, and even still that term angers you… Because some vigilantes claim to kill for justice, and maybe if you disagree with that you aren’t one. But you’ve never killed anyone and you never plan to. Unlike those ‘heroes’ who claim to fight for justice, killing all those who oppose them.

If you asked yourself, it doesn’t matter what somebody’s done.

Because if you kill them, that’s just another life taken…

And they have the gall to excuse it with their sickening justice.

You hate heroes.

————;=+ Act 1; In which a siren sings her encore +=;————

You lied. There was one person you wouldn’t mind killing.

All Might.

And so, You had managed to engage a student of UA whilst trying to break in.

You just wanted him dead, is that too much to ask? Actually, don’t answer that. Hell, He was putting up such a fight that you’d happily just leave at this point! You didn’t want all-might dead THAT badly.

Suddenly, you’re snapped out of thoughts by Izuku going in for a punch. You hiss in anger as you quickly throw yourself out of the way, hearing a rib or two of yours cracking.

God.

Dammit.

’I’ll be fine for now.’ you mumble, standing up. You look Izuku in the eye, watching as his face swirls from anger to hate to pity to an apologetic look then repeating. Stop it, you think.

Stop pitying me, you think again.

He’s readying an attack, you notice. His stance tenses slightly when he’s charging an attack.

Your eye twitches as you seethe in rage. Finally, you begin to get too frustrated. You sigh, readying your voice to sing your song in one of its purest forms.

The boy hisses in confusion, seemingly trying to break out of your hypnosis. You tut.. He’d have so much potential, had it not been ruined by these ‘heroes’

Finally, you begin. Your voice wavers for a second at the beginning, but you manage to iron out most imperfections. Slowly but surely, the greenette’s eyes glaze over and he steps towards you.

You smile genuinely, for it has been far too long since you last hypnotised someone.

The boy stands awaiting your orders and you slowly stand, wincing. “Lucky for you, little bunny, - ow, - I didn’t plan on killing any students today, or any day, really..” you say, still pondering what to order him. ”Ah, Right, Tell me, little bunny, where is.. All might?” You sigh. you’ve always thought the name All Might was dumb.

The boy slowly points down the hall and you smile, turning on your heel. Your smile drops immediately as Eraserhead’s capture weapon wraps around you. It’s not too uncomfortable, all things considered, but you’d rather not be in it. And so, You struggle, attempting to bite the ‘scarf.’

It does not work, clearly, as you listen to your teeth scratch across the material. He seems to hum in realisation as he sees your teeth, scarp and triangle-shaped, clearly made for eating meat. You keep struggling as you lose energy, the pure adrenaline running through your bloodstream slowly fading out. Your struggling fades from ‘Feral cat’ to ’angry cicada’ in the span of about 20 seconds.

And the worst part? The ‘hero’ who caught you didn’t even react.

You feel the scarves tighten, cutting off your oxygen and covering your gills. After about 30 more seconds, you begin to pass out.

————;=-+ Act 2; In which..  Interviews amiright +-=;————

You awake in the UA interview room. More so an actual interview room than.. an impromptu villain interview room.

It still peeved you to be considered a villain, but at least it’s better than being considered a hero... You glance down to your hands, stuck in handcuffs. You aren’t all that uncomfortable, really, and you can’t help but be glad it’s warm in UA. Better than the streets, at the very least.

You glance down at your legs, thick scales running up them and slowly dissapearing at your hips. They glow a brilliant light Y/F/C, darkening at the edges where light doesn’t fully reach them. There’s some traces of a scalpel inspecting them, you judge by the perfectly straight scratches leading up some. You snort, imagining their confusion. Suddenly, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

”What’s so funny?” It says. You assume it’s an older man, judging by tone. “Ahh.. so there is someone listening,” you smile, “Were you inspecting the scales?” You say, cutting yourself off a few times with short-lived laughs. You hear a sharp sigh of exhaustion from the speaker.

”Name?” They ask. You decide to respond, despite the part of you telling you to be rebellious and silent. ”Technically don’t have one. Pronounced dead,” you sigh, “Try searching y/n y/ln”

Theres a 10 minute pause consisting mostly of you getting lost in your thoughts, before somebody seems to relay info to the mysterious voice (tm).

”Pronounced dead.. at age 5.” they say and you giggle. “Big surprise! I’m not dead.” You say, voice dripping with venom. There’s a resigned sigh as you avert your eyes.

So competent they just decided you were dead.

”Quirk?”

You giggle. ”My quirrrk?” You draw out the r, “It’s siren.”

”Siren as in ambulance siren?” The voice says.

”Siren as in man-eating mermaid.” You answer, though you dislike calling yourself a mermaid.

”…” There’s a short pause followed by… silence. Pure silence. It’s deafening, really, and your mind can’t help but imagine all the ways they could kill you.  A few minutes later,  a staff member - not eraserhead, luckily - walks in and removes the restraints. You flex your hands at the newfound freedom, immediately raising a hand to your gills which are placed upon your neck, as they try - and fail, due to you having lungs for on land - to suck in air. You stumble over to the camera, assuming - and hoping,  - that there’s a microphone there too.

“You guys got any water bottles?” You ask, scratching at your gills. A few moments later, another staff member - it might be the same one, actually, - walks in with two bottles. Your eyes light up and you immediately open one, pouring it into your gills. You feel some relief at having ‘cleaned’ them  out. It’s never fun when you get gunk. though, for a second, you are concerned that the water might be poisoned.

You take your other water bottle, pouring out a little bit onto your palm. There’s enough water left to soothe your sore throat, since you are now realising that you weren’t, at all, ready to use your song at such a high perfection level. Slowly, You run your now-wet palm up your scales, moistening them slightly. It feels nice, okay? Don’t judge, It’s rude.

”hang on..” you mumble, spinning on your heel to walk around the room. “did those assholes take my phone?” You ponder aloud. There’s a short crackle from the speaker, followed by a “Yes.”

”oh.” you sigh, kicking your legs up onto a table. You immediately fall over, since you managed to forget you were standing.

”Hey, what time is it?” you say into the void, hoping the mic will pick you up. “16:34” they say.

“cool!” You say, ironically  unenthusiastically.

After a few minutes, you begin to get bored. You decide to whine to the mic. “I’m borrrreeeddd….” you whine, seemingly forgetting you’re literally a criminal.  Not a big one, but a criminal. Of

Theres a short click from the door as a staff member opens it, they’re holding a phone. Not your phone, sadly, but a phone. “Hell yeah!” You say, bounding over to the phone. You grab it as the staff member hurries out the room, seemingly afraid. “Don’t get any ideas, it’s tracked.” The voice says, once again coming from the speaker at a slightly-lower-than-comfortable volume.

You scroll through the mostly blank phone, until you stumble upon a group-chat. ‘Class 1-A,’ It’s named.

Huh, you think, clicking on it.

————;=+ Act 3; In which you make fun of class 1-a +=;————

Class 1-A

16:47

Tsu: We still up for girl’s movie night?

Y/n: mowovie night

Kirishima: huh???

Bakugou: WILL YOU STOP BLOWING UP MY FUCKING PHONE

Bakugou: FOR FIVE

Bakugou: MINUTES

Y/n: will youwu stowop blowoing uwup my fuwucking phowone owo

Bakugou: I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU APART

Kaminari: lol

Kaminari: Wait who’s that?

Kirishima: bro yeah who IS that

Iida Ten

Bakugou: STOP PARROTING EACH OTHER YOU DUMBASSES

Y/n: stowop parrowoting each owother youwu duwumbasses owo

Bakugou: I’LL RIP YOU APART

Y/n: I’ll rip yowouwu awpart…

Kaminari: Bakugou hang on lmfao

Momo: Theres nobody named y/n in our class

y/n: i’m ur uncle

Momo: Who’s uncle?

y/n: yes <3

Tsu: ?

Izuku: Guys, please stop blowing up my phone I’m trying to watch tv,,,

y/n: izuwukuwu

Izuku: Huh,,,,?

y/n: huwuh,,,?

Izuku: Why is everyone messaging me???? and telling me not to use this chat???

Bakugou: WE COULD‘VE EXPLAINED IT TO YOU IN DMS YOU IDIOT

Y/n: we cowouwuld’ve explained it towo yowouwu in dms yowouwu idiowot

Tenya IIda: Please stop sending so many messages in the chat. I am trying to sleep.

y/n: damn lemme just stop my hilarity so you can sleep /s

y/n: wait

y/n: I mean uhh

y/n: please stowop sending sowo many messages in the chat. I am trying towo sleep.

Tenya Iida: Please do not make fun of what I say. Please remember I am a moderator here,

Y/n: ’moderator’ bitch this is a gorilchat

y/n: shit

y/n I mean groupchat

y/n: also I mean

y/n: Please dowo nowot make fuwun owof what I say. Please remember I am a mowoderatowor.

Kirishima: srsly who is this

y/n: me looking into a mirror ^^^

Bakugou: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION

y/n: woahh calm down there hot stuff

y/n: get it

y/n: because you’re not hot

Momo: Can’t say they’re wrong there, Bakugou.

Kirishima: ^ Don’t be mean to bakubro!!!

y/n: are any of you organic creatures

Kaminari: I am

y/n: give life juice pls thx

Kirishima: they’re reverting back into gamer speak from their hunger :ooooo

y/n: what u want me to talk like mr stick-up-my-ass iida

Tenya Iida: Please refrain from using profanity, Y/n!

y/n:  wow I’m so sorry I’ll never do it again (1/2)

Tenya Iida: Thank you.

y/n: I mean really I’ll never do it again mr stick-up-my-ass iida (2/2)

Bakugou: KARMA FOR TELLING MEMTKO GET MY FEET OFF MY DESK

y/n: wow mr not-hot did you just have a stroke

Bakugou: I’M GONNAKILL OYU

Y/n: well I hope Oyu is ok

Y/n: also if you’re wondering who I am

y/n: sorry for lying (I’m not)

y/n: Y/n sent a photo

(PHOTO ID: A photo of a young girl, seemingly. they’re no older than 16, by the looks of it. They have brilliant y/f/c scales across their entire legs that fade out near the hips. Her face is pulled into a grin with razor-sharp teeth unlike that of a human.)

Kirishima: wasn’t Izuku fighting someone like that in the hall

Y/n: bingo! fingetbuns

Y/n: *fingergusn

y/n: fINGERSUNS

y/n: NO

y/n: FUNGHUNS

Y/n: HFJFHHFJDIDBJDIFH FINGERHUNS

Izuku: it’s okay, take your time (:

Y/n: FINWR GUNS

Kirishima: ur getting there bro!!!

Y/n: FINGERGUSN

y/n: NO

Y/n: Finger guns

Bakugou: STOP FUCKING SPAMMING

Kirishima: i’m so proud of my mermaid son

Y/n: siren*

Kirishima: I’m so proud of my mermaid siren

Y/n: yeah ok I guess

Y/n: serious question

Y/n: does anyone have a small amount of blood

Y/n: that they’d be willing to gift towards me

Kaminari: wtff

Kirishima: bro I got some right here

y/n: give pls

Kirishima: where do I have to go B)

Y/n: go find aizawa and tell him to give blood to the siren girl

Kirishima: oki

-——————-

In the UA interview room, You smile down at your phone.

They’re actually willing to be kind to you, even if you just fought them. You’re actually happy.

It’s an odd feeling,

But it’s one you’d like to keep.

-——————-

Class 1-A

17:22

Y/n: I got my blood

y/n: down the hatch

Kirishima: kindness is manly

y/n: damnfucki; right iwns tis

Kaminari: huh

Izuku: are you okay

y/n: bkoodjsm

Izuku: i think they’re saying blood?

y/n: hehe

Bakugou: STOP BEING WEIRD

y/n: djhrnsia rothg god i am so fhilarous

y/n:  nr igni kimsh

y/n: ithink I might have anxiey

y/n: anxieuty

Kirishima: bro u okay?

Mineta: cute…

y/n: i am going to hurt you

AUTO: MINETA left the chatroom

Momo: oh thank god

Jirou: ^^^^

y/n: hwlrnd

y/n: how say

y/n: how say jrlis

y/n: jirou

Jirou: jee-roh

y/n: skfnsj blood make

y/n: me is haopy

Izuku: Blood makes you happy?

y/n: yed

Izuku: it’s very interesting to have a quirk that’s mutation but also allows you to gain serotonin/dopamine

Izuku: what else does your quirk do?

y/n: sing sovng

y/n: make peop,e do what I want

y/n: but hurt throat

y/n: leg turn fin

y/n: make hunfhyehdbvlood

Izuku: I’m designing a hero costume as we speak!

Bakugou: NERD

Kirishima: manly!

Izuku: (:

y/n: thenhahighswearingiffof

Izuku: translation: The high is wearing off

y/n:  thus koamsjs

y/n: brb

——

y/n: ): high wore off

Izuku: What WAS that?

Y/n: blood side effect

Y/n: its really fun

Izuku: Hang on

Auto: Izuku called Sensei Aizawa

——

Class 1-A

18:12

Izuku: ok I asked eraserhead n he said he doesn’t mind (:

Izuku: Can I interview you

Y/n: do I get blood after

Izuku: Sure!

Y/n: DEAL

———

You look down at your phone.

It’s been a hour of you scrolling the internet, looking at memes that only earned a short snort from you.

You’re tired, although it’s only 19:32.

You decide it doesn’t matter, and that you’ll sleep.

You spin around on your heel, before pausing. There’s no bed.

Ah well. Floor looks awfully comfy.

-———

You awake around 9Am with only the light of an old lightbulb to illuminate the room. You miss seeing the light from the water, sitting on a rock until the sun finally peaked... But you were lonely, back then. You aren’t sure whether or not you want to go back to those days.

A small knock at the door alerts you of Izuku coming around for his interview. He’s holding a notebook that has ‘Y/N quirk’ messily written on.

He glances down at your legs, covered in shimmering scales. His eyes light up with fascination, to which you chuckle. “You can touch.” You say, watching his hand reach down to the y/f/c coloured scales.

His hand runs gently over them. You grin watching his fascination, and he looks up. He pulls a fold-out seat from the hallway, placing it behino the table before placing himself upon it.

You sit down on the opposite table, smiling. He glances up towards your teeth, watching them glimmer. “Don’t they.. hurt your gums?” He asks.

“Oh, these,“ you press a finger against the top of your tooth, immediately drawing blood, “the skin near them is hardened so they don’t stab me.”

you watch him turn his head down immediately and start writing in his notebook. You glance over, watching him write down all the info about your quirk. He seems to be sketching a costume on the side.

”Oh, don’t forget the voice thing.” You notify to him. He glances up, eyes questioning, tilting his head like a puppy. “Cute.” You say flirtatiously. He turns bright red, averting his eyes before trying to change the subject. “S-so.. if I were to film your song would it still hypnotise me?” He asks.

You wink at him. “Wow, wanting to listen to me sing already..” You say, “I’m just kidding, It wouldn’t hypnotise you, but you might cry. Just a side effect.”

Izuku averts his eyes, blushing furiously. “Could I get a r-recording of it.”

Does he really have a crush on me? You think. Is that really why he wants a recording of me singing?

You respond with a mere “Yeah, sure.” He nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket, ”Should I leave?“ he asks, and you nod.

As soon as he leaves, the pull of your quirk on your phone begins.

You derive your tune from the one you’d sing at the beach. It’s sad and melancholic but there’s an upbeat note, reminiscing on times where you felt free even if there was a tug upon your heart. The air seems to split, allowing the vibrations of your song to pull across the air. It’s not the perfected version, but it’s close.

You love to sing, really, but you’ve always felt bad. you’re only good at singing when you’re using your quirk.

Finally, your song fades out and you hit the record button to turn it off. There’s now a 3:30 minute long recording on Izuku’s phone.

You open the door to see Izuku with a pair of earplugs in, so you push aside your shock at the fact you could just open the door.

You tap him, watching him jump. So cute, you both think in unison.

So cute.

You him his phone, having now secretly added your number.

Very sneaky.

—————

13:36

Izuku: Very sneaky lol

Y/n: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄  what can I say I’m an assassin.

Y/n: btw tell aizawa to get me a bed lmfao

Izuku: You don’t have a bed!? Where did you sleep last night?

Y/n: floor comfy

Izuku: lol weird

Y/n: said the boy with a notebook about me (⁄ ⁄•⁄Ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: bullying

Y/n: possibly <3

———

Another day passes, more texts coming back and forth from Izuku. He’s really flirting.. huh…

He’s cute. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar ding of Izuku messaging you

———

Izuku: wyd lol

Y/n: nursing my sore throat lol I practiced my song too much

Izuku: :o oh no

Y/n: it’s fine B) I’m too cool to be defeated by a mere sore throat

Izuku: lol (:

Y/n: wyd

Izuku: just went to recovery girl!!! I broke a finger again ):: I was making so much progress,,

Y/n: it’s not reverting your progress!! It’s still progress.

Izuku: y/n you’re gonna make me cry..

Y/n: go listen to that recording then crybaby

Izuku: THAT RECORDING LITERALLY MAKES ME CRY ):::::

Y/n: yeah cuz ur a crybaby <3

Izuku: stopppp bullying meee <3

Y/n: it always looks like ur flirting when you put a <3 (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Izuku: does that mean that you’re flirting?

Y/n: possibly

———

A few more days pass, flirtatious messages passing back and forth.

They’re just a joke, you’d think, blushing furiously.

———

15:32

Y/n: IzukuHeklp

Izuku: ??? Whats wrong??

Y/n: ripped scalepain

Y/n: Y/n sent a photo message

(Photo ID: It’s a picture of y/n’s y/f/c scales. One appears to have been ripped off of her skin, and there’s blood coming from underneath it. Through the blood you can just barely see an underdeveloped scale that was going to replace the broken scale when it was ready.)

———

You’re pulled out of your agony but Izuku slamming open the door, rushing to your side. He’s holding a piece of cloth clearly ripped off of his shirt. He wraps it around your leg gently, watching attentively as it soaks up blood. He picks you up bridal-style, not even noticing the way both you and him blush heavily.

(By the time you’ve reached Recovery girl, the piece of cloth is almost as red as your face.)

You lay on the small bed, bleeding now stopped due to recovery girls quirk. You glance toward izuku, tears welling up in his eyes. You gently pat his head, watching him watch you.

”Stooppp cryingggg” you whine.

Recovery girl watches you with a look that says “oh to be young and in love..”

Izuku pouts. “Make me.” He sighs jokingly.

You spot your opportunity there. “What if I told you that you could come ’round to my room later?” You say blushing.

Izuku turns tomato-red, nodding.

————

As soon as your out of recovery girls office, Izuku follows you like a puppy. You glance toward the bandage now wrapped around your leg to stop infection. Turns out ‘you didn’t have enough energy to fully heal it from all those all-nighters‘ or something.

You open the door to your room, fairy lights turned on and glowing purple. There’s a small sofa that fits two and Izuku beelines for it. You’re so glad Aizawa let you decorate your room. You sit down next to him, cunning your perfect plan.

”I think I hate all-might a little less, now-“ you say, preparing yourself for the infodump from Izuku.

“i’m so glad! You know, ever since the toxic chainsaw fight-“ Izuku begins, not noticing you tune him out after 5 minutes. “Stop infodumping..” you say playfully and he picks up on it. “Make me!” he pouts.

”Sure.” You smirk, leaning in.

As soon as your lips collide, Izuku seems to blank out. He’s blushing red like a tomato. The rain outside seems to quieten over the roar of your pounding hearts..

And you don’t regret it at-all.

Once you finally pull away from the kiss, izuku’s a stuttering mess. “Wh-W-What does th-this make us?…” he asks, stuttering and stumbling over his words. You chuckle, leaning in close to his face so you’re essentially in his lap. “I think you know..” you coo into his ear, watching it slowly turn pink.

He nods slowly, watching you. “So.. I was thinking about a beach date?” you say, softly. He giggles slightly, although he still stumbles over the sound. “Sounds to me like you just want to go into the water..” he says.

You look him in the eye.

”I never said you couldn’t come into the water, too..”

[boldlyvoid]

Hypothetically,

Summary: reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: fluff/ eventual Smut

Warnings/Includes: cursing, graphic descriptions of cases, crime scenes and mentions of rape and sexual assault. mentions of blood, guns, murder and other basic criminal minds stuff

Word count: 7.3k

a/n: I'm new to the fandom but i'd love to add more to this if it does well <3 let me know what you think

chapter one

It took Y/N longer than she had hoped to finally catch up to him. He seemed to go from the cute little boy with a bow tie who sat beside her in her kindergarten class to working for the FBI by the time you graduated high school. It wasn’t fair that hehe happened to be smarter than anyone on earth causing him to test out of elementary school before you even got to know him.

Spencer Reid had an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and the sweetest personality to match. You saw him around as he grew up, coming home to see his mom often and minding his business as he wandered around in his free time.

He liked to sit on the swings at the abandoned park across the street from your house, it was a place he would go to at the most random hours of the day for years on end. Every time he was in the area, he visited the swing. And She’d watch him from her window seat in her bedroom. Pretending to read, but really she was watching him read.

It was years of watching, from the ages of 13 to 18 when he was coming back and forth from working on his second Ph.D., and she was still trying to make it through high school.

But she never walked out there and talked to him, she knew nothing real about him other than his name and that he was smart. The town told rumours about him being an alien or a government experiment because there was no way a kid could be so smart, but you never believed them. You liked to keep to the idea that he was sweet, smart, and special.

He stopped coming to the swing for a while after they turned 18, her mother had said something about Spencer Reid’s mother being admitted to the nursing home she worked at and y/n drew the conclusion that he’d finally left the small Nevada town you were seemingly trapped in.

Y/N kept tabs with him online, as weird as it felt to her she had a strange sense of pride when it came to Spencer’s achievements. That was the kid she sat beside in kindergarten out there working for the FBI saving lives and changing the world. It inspired her.

So sure enough, when she moved to Virginia to join the FBI academy it was the perfect opportunity to finally be on an even playing field with him. An excuse to reach out to him and catch up, get to know him. She was technically older than him, by 10 months, and yet somehow he seemed to feel unreachable, wiser and more of an adult than she ever would be.

At 26 she finally bumps into him again. She’s carrying boxes into her new apartment with help from a moving company when he leaves the apartment across the hall from her.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer Reid?” she said with the biggest smile spreading across her face.

“Hi?” he says, not having any clue who she is.

“You might not remember me, I’m Y/N Y/L/N we were in kindergarten together in Nevada?”

He takes a moment to think, she watches his eyes flutter as he recalls the memory to his mind. She is mesmerized by how his brain works, like a filing cabinet he can just pull memories out. “Oh, yes we sat together the first day and you got in trouble later that afternoon for adding water to the sand because I had said it was too dry to build a model of the Pyramid of Giza.”

Her smile gets even bigger, “yes! I hope this isn’t weird but I’ve kept up with you over the years, I’ve always thought it was so amazing that someone from my town was off doing incredible things! I can’t believe I’m moving in across from you that makes it look so much worse oh god, I promise I’m not stalking you!” She rambled anxiously.

He laughed, “it’s okay I believe you! I’m surprised honestly that you remember me, we were what? 5? That’s a good memory you must have?”

She walked over to him and out of the way of the men moving her boxes into her apartment, that’s what she was paying them for anyway. She set the box down on the floor beside herself to free her arms, “I think your first ever friend would leave an impact on your memory.”

“We did have a good bond before I was transferred out,” he recalls with a smile.

“Well,” she smiled right back, “I also work with the FBI if you want to get coffee before work on Monday and catch up? See if there’s a possibility of being friends once again?”

“Yeah!” he answers abruptly, “I leave around 7:15 normally and I always go to the little cafe down the road, what department are you in?”

“VICAP,” she said, “just a floor above the BAU, surprised I’m only running into you now”

“You sure you’re not stalking me?” he joked.

She shook her head lightly, her cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. “Promise, just inspired by you, that’s all.”

He chuckled to himself, almost shocked that such a lovely person would be inspired by him. “Well, thank you. I’ll let you get back to moving in and I will see you on Monday Y/N.” he said with a small wave and walked down the corridor.

She sighed to herself, this was going to be amazing.

---

Y/N had barely unpacked anything by the time Monday had rolled around. She spent most of her time working on her bedroom organization, leaving a mess of boxes everywhere else. Going through her closet to find the best outfit for her first-morning commute with Spencer.

Her job didn’t require as much fieldwork as he did, so she could wear anything she wanted to the office as long as it was professional. She settled on black flared dress pants, a nice white turtleneck, the watch her family gave her when she graduated from the academy and her cute healed wedge boots.

She grabbed her purse and wallet, ensuring she had her keys and badge in there before unlocking her safe and clipping her gun to her belt. She grabbed her go bag and coat and draped them over one arm, holding her purse in the other.

With everything she needed, she walked to her front door, turning off her alarm just to change the setting to protect her empty apartment. She closed and locked the door behind herself just as Spencer walked out into the hallway.

“Good morning Spencer,” she said, cheerful as ever.

“You’re awfully cheerful for this time of day,” he yawned after speaking.

“Late night?” she asked, joining him as he walked towards the building entrance.

“We had an emergency case this weekend that kicked my ass, I’ve only been home for 15 hours. Hopefully, today is just a desk day,” he yawned again. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re tired as well, from moving this weekend.”

“Oh I’m exhausted, normally I don’t leave till quarter to 8, living farther away now is going to suck a bit.”

“At least our building is nice,” he adds.

“It seems wonderful so far.” He held the door for her as they walked into the parking lot, he dug her keys from her bag, “do you want to take my car?”

“Sure, seeing as I don’t have a car, I normally take the subway,” he said softly, walking to the passenger side and opening the door as he heard the door unlock.

“Well if you want a ride every morning I don’t mind, even If you need rides to emergency cases,” she smiled softly.

Spencer insisted on buying her coffee, saying it was only fair for driving him. But really it was because he wanted to spoil her, ever since she said she was inspired by him his mind hasn’t been able to stop playing that sentence on loop. He’s completely enamoured by her, willing to do whatever it takes to get on her good graces. Not realizing she’s willing to do the same for him.

In no time she’s pulling up to the main building, both of them showing their badges before being allowed access into the parking structure of their building. Y/N parked close to the main elevator, having impeccable luck with getting that spot in the garage.

“We still have time before we’re officially on the clock, if you wanted to come meet my team?” He offered, hitting the button in the elevator for floor 3. His floor.

“I’d love to meet the legend that is Penelope Garcia,” she smiled.

“She is wonderful,” he agreed with a smile.

The elevator dinged and she felt her heart drop into her stomach thinking of how Spencer was going to introduce her. He walked with her towards the glass doors, holding them open for her as she walked into the bullpen.

All eyes were suddenly on Spencer and Y/N, so many faces she’s never seen before, and 2 she knows too well from her research on the BAU. She smiled lightly as she walked towards them all. Spencer not far behind her.

“Good morning,” Spencer smiled a small pressed-lipped smile. “This is agent Y/N Y/L/N, she works up in VICAP, she was one of my best friends in elementary school.”

She smiled, so that’s how. “Hello!” She waved, “It’s so nice to meet you all,”

“Derek Morgan,” the tall dark and handsome one reached his hand out for yours.

“Oh, I don’t shake hands sorry,” she said, grabbing her right middle finger with her left hand and smiling lightly.

He laughed, “wow pretty boy, how come you never told us you have a twin?”

“Do you not shake hands either?” She asked him, “we really do have a lot of catching up to do Spence.”

“Emily Prentiss, it’s lovely to see Spence bring in new friends.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve always admired the BAU, I’ve actually compiled a few of the cases you’ve worked on this year, I’m pretty good at finding patterns even the system overlooks.”

“Oh yes, Y/N Y/L/N, I’ve seen your name on all the emails, thank you you’ve sent some of the best-connected cases to us, you’ve brought justice to people who we would have never connected to cases,” JJ said enthusiastically, “I was actually just about to tell Hotch about the newest one you sent me.”

“It’s horrible, isn’t it? I’ve been carefully looking over this case for 2 years now I knew you’d all be able to help with it. It’s right up your ally,” she nervously laughed.

“You sent in the files on the family annihilator that was going after people he believed to be decedents of Cain from the bible right?” David Rossi asked.

She nodded her head and sighed, “yeah everyone told me it was a stretch to catch onto but when I noticed all the men were from the same online ancestry family tree I knew you guys needed to see it.”

“That was specifically interesting, the death of his own brother led him to seek revenge on the father of murder,” Spencer agreed.

“So what’s this new one you’ve brought us?” Derek asked.

“Oh, would you like to pitch it to us? We’re all here we can meet you in the briefing room before your shift starts upstairs?” JJ offered.

“Oh sure,” she smiled, finally it was her time to show off.

Soon enough, Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia and Jenifer Jareau were all staring at you in the briefing room.

“In Wichita Kansas, there have been a string of murders over the last 6 years that have all been incredibly, creepily similar,” she started explaining as she handed out the case files to everyone.

“Each victim is female, 16 to 24, they’ve all been strangled with rope while completely naked, signs of brutal sexual assault, binding and torture. They’ve all been found wrapped in shower curtains and placed in various public locations. Clearly a sign of remorse with how he keeps them covered but still a taunt that we can’t find him even now that he’s 6 victims deep.”

“Clarise Richardson, victim number 1 was raped, strangled with rope and left by an underpass. She was found in 1998, the M.E said she was dead 16 hours when they found her, COD was asphyxiation. Her family reports she was last seen at least 73 hours before she was found. So he kept her for a while. There were fibres under her nails of green carpet, either she was held at someone's house or in a van with carpet like they had in the 70s and 80s.”

“Were there any fingerprints or DNA on the bodies?” Prentiss asked.

“Yes, there was a sperm sample retrieved on victim number 5, Sharon Flynn. Most likely he wore a condom for the rest of his rapes and he wasn’t in the system already. Either he never ejaculated in earlier rapes before he grew to murder or his victims never came forward before 1998.”

“which is highly likely, we saw in the EARs case in California how hard it was to get the men and women who were raped to even come forward. There were 4 confirmed cases in the news before more came forward with similar stories. It’s seen as a shameful thing when in reality it’s just giving them more power if they believe they’ll never be caught.” Spencer explained.

“Yes, it’s very hard to come forward when it happens to you,” she agreed before quickly hanging subject. “I’ve been searching for any rapes in the area with similar MO, choking, BDSM, ropes, vans with green carpet, and I’ve found 3 women who claimed to be raped by a man at festivals the late 70’s who had an orange van with green carpet who bonded them up in a very intricate form of bondage that tightened every time they squirmed to entice them not to move. And from my research, that's the same pattern of rope as the rope burn on the 6 bodies we have.”

“All 6 of them are fairly similar it’s just their dumpsites that sets them apart. He didn’t have one strict area that he stuck to, he seems to have no problem travelling to them.” Emily said, flipping through the files.

“I’m thinking he has a job the requires him to still use his van. Like a travelling plumber, a phone or computer tech, home surveillance or maybe even he’s with Jehovah's witness or the Mormon church. It would explain him being able to get into these women’s houses and neighbourhoods long enough to pick someone, learn their schedule and grab them.” Y/N explained.

“Garcia, can you look into those businesses, as well as independent contractors, satellite companies, mailmen, and anyone else who might have been on the job by the victim's houses on the dates and times they were last seen,” Hotch asked.

“Absolutely, I’ll also run the DNA samples in my other databases.”

“I was about to ask you to do that, I think he might have children. There is a very large gap between the rapes and the jump to rape and murder, if you could run the saliva sample from victim 3 that's on her neck with any foster system or genealogy company to see if he has a son or uncle we can trace his sample to?”

“That's a great idea, I’ve never thought to do that,” Garcia smiled. “I like you, you’re a smart cookie!”

“Looks like we’re headed to Wichita,” Hotch said. “Do you think VICAP would be mad if we stole you for a few days? You have more connections with the Wichita police than we do, they might cooperate more If they know a friendly face.”

“Absolutely, let me grab my go-bag from upstairs!” Y/N jumped up, “I’ll be right back down!”

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said, And with that, she was out the door.

“Reid if you don’t marry her I will,” Penelope said softly.

“Okay.” He blushed.

—

She took a seat beside Reid on the jet, the two of them chatting amongst themselves for a while before they were called for the second briefing.

“So local PD think they have a recent victim from this weekend they want us to check out,” Penelope said over video chat. “she’s a little different than the others. Katie Newton, 27 was found bound to her bed, already having passed and was being assaulted when her husband came home. He screamed at the guy who was only wearing a ski mask and “tight-y white-y’s” as the husband described. He grabbed his bag and clothes with him but he left her tied up with the little time he had to knock the husband out of the way and run out.”

“Did he get any other identification marks on the unsub?” Y/N asked.

“He said he was pasty white, 5’8 and he didn’t talk. He didn’t scream, nothing, he just grabbed his things and ran. He does however remember he had a very large brown birthmark on his chest covering the right nipple down to his stomach.”

“Okay that’s good to know, why do they think it’s our guy?” Rossi asked.

“Blood found on the rope she was tied up with can match back to 13 different women. 6 of the murders that Y/N brought to us, 1 of the rapes she found and 5 other break-in and rapes of other women in the area.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered to herself.

“Well done on finding this one Y/N, this one is going to be big.” Morgan complimented her with a smile.

“Thanks,” she smiled back, “I didn’t expect any of this when I connected the 6 of them originally. This is insane.”

“have you ever been in fieldwork like this?” Hotch asked.

“At the academy, I was combat trained, I have all my clearances and I’m a great shot. I’m good on my feet and I tested perfectly on hostage talk down.” She tried not to brag but this was almost as important as a job interview.

“Well damn,” Morgan nodded in approval. “We might just have to seal you full time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all!”

“Good,” hotch smiled, something he didn’t do often. “I’m going to send you and Reid to the M.E to see what else we can find out about these new break-in homicides. Prentiss and Rossi, I want you to travel to the last dumpsite and the latest crime scene to see what else could connect them. Morgan and JJ come with me to the station to set up communication with the local PD and media we don’t need them naming him like they did with BTK.”

“Garcia, would you also widen the search for anyone convicted of sexual misconduct, flashing, stalking, break-ins where underwear was stolen or and peeping toms? Go all the way back to the 70s. If any of them are now working for any businesses that have vans and require him to travel. This guy has to have a mistake somewhere that you will find.” Y/N asked one last time.

“Got it, genius girl, over and out.”

��-

The bureau had the funds for rooms for the main team, meaning Y/N had to double up with someone and she had to decide who once they landed and headed to the hotel.

“It wouldn’t be weird if we got a room with two queen beds right?” She asked Spencer, “it would give us a chance to catch up in our downtime like a sleepover we never had as kids.” She nervously rambled in the SUV as Reid drove.

“No I don’t mind, It would be fun if we get any sleep in this case. This one seems like it will be a bit of a brain rattler.” Reid agreed with a soft pressed-lipped smile.

They booked their rooms, dropped off their things and all headed their separate ways. The M.E’s office was close to the police station, the two of you in an SUV followed Hotch, JJ and Morgan in another down the road.

The bodies had all been cremated or buried shortly after being found, there wasn’t anything fresh enough to examine for them but they did have access to all the information on all the cases.

“I’ve been the medical examiner here for the last 30 years,” the nice old man said as he led them down the hall to the storage room. “These ones have all been some of the worst cases I’ve seen here. So much so that I keep them all in their own boxes just in case a day like today ever happens.”

“That is very helpful for us thank you so much!” She smiled at him as he held the storage door open.

“They’re all labelled by name and date. If you have any questions about tests or need me to run more with what we have left just give me a holler!” He said as he left the room.

Y/N sighed. “Why do I feel like this is going to take a million years?”

“I can read 20,000 words a minute, it will take me 3 hours to read everything in this room. Luckily we only need to read these few boxes.” Spencer pointed at the wall.

“Okay boy wonder, stop showing off,” she smiled, taking the Victim # 5 case box down first. “She was the first one I put into the system when I joined VICAP.”

“Is that why you sent this case to JJ?”

“Partly,” she sighed again. “There was the emotional attachment of this being my first case but there were just too many connections I knew you guys could bring justice to her family. She was so young.”

Spencer opened a box and she watched as his eyes darted across the pages as he flipped through them. She was mesmerized by how he could do that. But he was probably even smarter than god so it made sense.

“This is interesting. They found LSD in the system of the 3 rapes from back in the day which isn’t that uncommon for the time period or the places where they were abducted, but what’s strange is the amount. This is enough LSD to make someone go insane, no one in their right mind would willingly take this much LSD?” Spencer said.

“They were all found 2 days later dehydrated and alone in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way of knowing if more women didn’t have this happen and died where he left them.”

“He is probably in his 50’s now. How fit would he have to be to still be able to break into houses and rape and murder women?” Spencer asked.

“Well that might be just why he stopped dumping, he might have a bad back and can't lift the dead weight. He is more willing to get caught in someone's house so that he doesn’t have to do the dumping, he can just leave after. 5 of the 6 home invasions were with women who lived alone or husbands who worked night shifts. So they wouldn’t be home. He watched them long enough to know when he could successfully get away with this.” Y/N explained as she flipped through boxes.

“And the rope technique our last victim was found in is exactly the same as the rope burns as the others you’re correct,” Spencer complimented her. “He might have ex-girlfriends or even an ex-wife who he would have tried BDSM on and she didn’t like it, so now he feels like he has to do it this way. When we deliver the profile we should alarm the public about him to draw out any women who would have willingly tried something with our unsub.”

Y/N nodded as he spoke, agreeing with everything. “That could have even been the original stressor, all the women are pretty vanilla, I talked to the husbands over the phone and the original rape victims. They weren’t into trying anything like this in their free time. 2 of the rapes were also virgins. They all had good jobs and good grades, they were outstanding, low-risk members of the community. He might be getting revenge on the women who wouldn’t indulge in this fantasy.”

“He probably feels a lack of control in his personal life, maybe he even has a more dominating wife who he feels he can't stand up to so this is how he deals with it.” Spencer agreed.

“Let's go see Hotch, I think we should deliver the profile.”

—-

They walked into the police station, gliding through the doors like they owned the place. Emily and JJ watched as they walked over to hotch with the exact same energy. Both speaking with their hands and rambling about what they had found.

“So he’s a fit, early 50’s, white male. Married, probably with kids, works with or owns a van. He has a problem with authority in his own life, he feels like he is in a submissive role all day be it from a female boss who’s always on his ass or his wife. It’s possible he even has only daughters and no sons. He feels emasculated, surrounded by women, which is why he started taking these women originally to rape them with BDSM-like acts to finally have that control he lacks in his everyday life.” Y/N explained. “He wouldn’t be very handsome, he would have issues speaking with most women, he keeps to himself, he might have even failed out of jobs involving the police or security, he wants to be in a place of power but he has none of the social skills to accomplish what he wants. I would even look into local army cadets or boy scouts he could be a very old member or the father of someone in one of those groups. His affinity for binding them up and the types of ropes he used are very common BDSM ropes but the knots are reminiscent of ones my brothers would do in at Navy cadets.”

“You got all that from the M.E?” Derek said, shocked at how good she was at this.

“I’ve been staring at his work for 2 years, every time a case from this town came in I checked into it to tie it to this guy. I don’t know what it is but this one gets to me, like BTK or Ed Kemper, these men have specific vendettas against women, they need to dominate women because they have a strong mother or wife in their presence. I know the type of man he is and I want to see him rot in prison.”

Spencer walked over to another table, spreading out a map and beginning to look at the geographical profile. Making down the 3 rapes and their dumpsites, the 6 abducted women and their dumpsites as well as the 6 home invasion homicides. Narrowing down on the geographical profile to find his comfort zone.

Y/N stood beside him watching him draw perfect circles over the map, placing a dot right in the middle. “He either lives or works in this area. Everything is within 35 miles of this area.”

Hotch took out his phone and called Garcia, placing the phone on the table with the speaker on. “Hello my lovelies, what can I do for you?”

“Have you narrowed anything down?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, I have 117 orange vans originally bought in the late ’70s that are still registered to men in this area all between the ages of 45 and 60. 63 of them work in home security, 13 of those have a son in boy scouts and 4 of those have prior peeping tom allegations.” She explained.

“Any of the 4 look interesting?” Hotch asked.

“We have Travis Johnson, 55 he works for Acorn Security, he was doing service in each town that a murder took place the same week they went missing. He is married and has been since 1980 right when he stopped raping and his 5th and last daughter was born the same week that Clarice Richardson was murdered in 1998. They took in a foster child to give him a boy 3 years ago who is in boy scouts, and has all his badges in you guessed it, knot tying.”

“Do we have his home and work address?” Morgan asked.

“Yes of course I do chocolate thunder, they’ve been sent to you already. I’ve also sent a list of his appointments for today, he might be on the hunt.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan smiled at the phone.

“It's what they pay me the big bucks for.”

She hung up and hotch immediately started handing out bullet-proof vests. “Time to catch him.”

Spencer rested a hand on your back as he passed you, smiling as if to say 'good job'.

Y/n grabbed her vest and her go-bag and quickly changed into something more suited for chasing after a runner. It almost always came to that in her experience. She came back out in jeans and a white long sleeve shirt tucked in, her vest on and her hair up. She placed her earpiece in and straightened out her gun. Making sure the clip was full and adding an extra one to her vest.

“Ready?” She asked Spencer as he tightened his vest.

“Let’s do this.”

They split up, Prentiss Rossi and JJ went to his house while Reid, Morgan, Hotch and Y/L/N took a squad of local cops to where the unsub was supposedly doing his house calls.

They slowly drove through the neighbourhoods, lights off just paroling up and down the streets. They saw an orange van parked on the side of the street, they watched as the unsub got out of the driver's seat, grabbing a bag and walking up to a woman’s house. Slowly they all got out of the SUV, Morgan and Hotch taking the back while Reid and Y/L/N took the front door. They waited for confirmation that he wasn’t alone in this home, before going in.

They could hear a woman talking and then there was a scream, “I’m going in,” Y/L/N said, Kicking the door down before Reid took the lead, Y/N following behind him.

“Travis Johnson? FBI!” Spencer yelled.

The two of them cleared the main room, working their way to the hallway, Reid let her take the lead to the bedroom where they heard the struggle.

“Travis put down the rope and let her go,” Y/N said slowly as he walked into the room, gun pointed.

“And why should I?” He panicked, holding the woman against his chest, she was crying gripping onto the rope he was holding tightly around her throat.

“I’m a huge fan of your work!” Y/N said. “I work for VICAP, I’m the one who had to put each and every single one of your victims in the system. I know exactly how much you’re into control and BDSM, it’s honestly surprising that you have to force these women into it, why are women so against letting a big strong man control them anymore?” She said softly as she lowered the gun and her voice.

“You know, I’ve always thought BDSM was super sexy, I’d love to be tied up and taken control of, if you put down the rope how would you like to have a willing participant one day?” She teased him, getting closer and closer, she could see he was rock hard. He loosened the rope and pushed her to the side, stepping forward towards Y/N who quickly flipped him to the floor and cuffed him.

“Travis Johnson you are under arrest for the rape and murder of over 12 women. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one will be appointed for you. If you chose to share anything without a lawyer present you have the right to stop at any time. Is that clear?”

She single handily lifted him to his feet and dragged him out of the room as the men in the hall just watched with awe.

“You’re a little bitch you know that?” The unsub said as he struggled in her grasp.

She slammed him against the hallway wall, pressing right up against his back, whispering in his ear “oh so now you have a big mouth huh, finally feel like you can talk to a woman who isn’t tied down? I’m in control here, you’re my little bitch you hear me? Only good boys get to speak to me.” She said as she pulled him back off the wall and handed him off to local PD. “Have fun being a little bitch in prison Travis.”

She stood there with her arms crossed catching her breath as the adrenalin shook through her body.

“Well done Y/L/N,” Hotch and Morgan put their fists out to give her props.

“How would you like to join the team for good?” Hotch asked? “we’ve been looking for an extra hand.”

“Absolutely!”

—

They were going to spend the night in Wichita, all agreeing to spend the night getting drinks at the local bar suggested by the PD. Piling into the SUV all together with Spencer offering to DD.

“How much time have you put into Travis?” Prentiss asked in the back seat beside Y/N.

“Sharon Flynn was the first case I ever put into my system 2 years ago. Her case looked so gruesome and evil it never left my mind. So then when Alice Webster, number 6 came in I did some more digging and found the 4 before Sharon and the 3 rapes, I knew it was cold for a while but something about him always stuck with me. And for some reason last week when I emailed the info to JJ out of the blue I had a gut feeling he was at it again.” Y/N explained.

“It’s a special talent to just feel when something is wrong.” JJ smiled back at them.

“I’ve always been, not fascinated, by serial killers but more interested in the chase of justice.” She explained, “if that makes sense. I love puzzles and finding answers and at least this way the end result is families finding peace.”

They pulled into the parking lot, all of them finding their way into the bar before the ladies went to the bathroom to freshen up.

“So Y/N,” Prentiss said, taking her phone out and calling Penelope. “The ladies of the BAU are very close, so welcome to our little group.”

“exactly.” Penelope said over the phone, “welcome to the group you’re going to fit right in!” She cheered.

“Thank you, VICAP was not a tight-knit group like y’all are. I’m extremely excited to get to know you all more.” Y/N smiled as she straightened her shirt out in the mirror.

“So you and Spencer?” JJ asked.

“We were in the same kindergarten class,” Y/N said with a small smile. “I thought he was going to be my best friend and then he took some test and was bumped into 4th grade. By the time I was in high school he had already finished his second Ph.D.”

“So you never kept up with each other?” Prentiss asked.

She shook her head. “I knew of him, my mom is the Activities Organizer at the home his mom is at, he used to go to the park across from my house, he now lives across the hall from me and works with me. I think we were always supposed to be friends but it wasn’t the right time till now.”

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Penelope teased through the phone.

“I do.” She smiled to herself. “I think I always have.”

“If pretty boy was here he’d say that there is a statistical likelihood that because you’ve been interested in him for longer than 3 years you’re most likely in love with him and will never not be.” Prentiss explained, “I heard him say that to Hotch once.”

She nodded along, “I guess I just need to get him to fall in love with me now.”

“It won't be that difficult.” JJ placed her hand on Y/N’s back and they all made their way out of the bathroom smiling.

The men were all sitting together at a table with everybody’s drinks already waiting.

“We didn’t know what you liked,” Spencer said as Y/N sat beside him. “So I said I’d go get whatever you want.”

“Or we can go up to the bar together.” She smiled.

The two of them got up and walked to the bar, the rest of the team watched them.

She leaned against the bar, ordering her drinks and pressing in close to Spencer. “It’s been so nice getting to spend time with you.” He said softly.

She was handed her drinks before she could even respond. Taking her tequila shot there and bringing her margarita back to the table as Spencer followed swiftly behind her.

They all drank and exchanged case stories from within and beyond the BAU, Spencer was able to add a lot of input but he was always cut off. Y/N leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “you can tell me all your facts later I really want to hear them.” She smiled so softly Spencer felt his heart about to burst in his chest.

Emily left the group to go flirt with the bartender, JJ was on FaceTime in the SUV with Will, Rossi had disappeared with a local woman and Hotch and Morgan were exchanging childhood stories over a beer in the corner.

The bar was playing old, slow music, almost everyone had filtered out but there were still older local couples hanging out and dancing in the middle of the room.

“Do you dance?” Y/N asked Spencer.

“I can try.”

She took his hand and led him to the floor. Drunk on the alcohol and his touch as she slipped his hands around to her back, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head on his chest. She felt his cheek rest on the top of her head as the two of them just swayed in a circle together.

“Do you have any other memories of me?” Y/N asked him softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You lived across the street from the park, and your mom works at the nursing home. You have 2 younger brothers who have always looked older than you. They would come and go when I was sitting on the lone swing and I’d always see you in the window reading. I knew you were my age but it still never felt right for me to talk to you when I was in university.”

“I watched you every time you were on the swings, you looked so peaceful. You read at least a book a day every time you were out there and it became so special to me seeing you there every weekend.” She explained.

“The world works in mysterious ways.” He explained.

She held him as close as she could. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect her day to go like this. She expected coffee and a weird goodbye in the elevator and staring at a computer screen all day. Somehow she ended up in Spencer's arms in a different state after having caught the serial killer that's haunted her dreams for years.

He rubbed his thumb lightly over her back, “do you want to go back to the hotel? We have an early flight.” He whispered.

“Yeah,” she smiled pulling back but reaching down to hold his hand as they walked over to Hotch and Morgan.

They drove home quietly, everyone in the back was happily drunk and tired. They parked and wandered up to their rooms, saying goodbye at their doors and disappearing into their rooms.

Spencer let her take the bathroom first, changing into her PJ’s and then he did the same. She laid in her bed, facing his as he sat up and read.

“Can I come lie beside you?” She asked, knowing exactly how needy she sounded.

He nodded, pulling the sheet back so she could slip right in. She laid on her side and just looked up at him. Absolutely astounded that she was with him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Spencer asked, putting his book down and sliding down the bed to be on her level.

“Yeah?” She said nervously.

“Today you said it’s hard for people to come forward after they are assaulted, it sounded like personal experience and I wanted you to know if you need anyone, I’m always available for you.” He explained.

“Oh,” her face dropped. “I was 12, he was 15. You were in high school at the same time as him. I don’t know if you’d remember him, his name was Christopher.”

Spencer nodded along as she spoke. “When my mom finally went back to work she didn’t trust me watching my brothers alone so her friend offered to babysit us during the days. Her foster son took advantage of me the whole summer and when my parents finally found out he went into Sophomore year and told everyone that the nerdy girl who looks like bugs bunny was obsessed with him, that I stalked him and that anything I said about him wasn’t real.”

“I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his hand over her shoulder to soothe her.

“It’s okay, they used to call me bugs bunny because of my overbite. I used to rest my front teeth on my front lip and they would throw carrots at me,” she explained further.

“It all makes sense now,” he said softly.

“What does?”

“When I was 13 the seniors had a cheerleader invite me onto the football field and convinced me to strip down to my underwear, she was about to kiss me when all the football guys ran out and beat me up, they tied me to the goal post and the one said ‘we should really hook you up with bugs bunny, you losers would be perfect together.’ And they left me there all night long.”

“Oh Spencer I am so sorry,” she cuddled in close to him, placing her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I think we went through our traumas separately all these years because something bigger than us knew we’d need each other one day.”

“When we get back to Virginia, would you like to go on a date with me?” Spencer asked.

“I would want nothing more.” She hugged him a bit tighter.

They stayed like that for a while until Spencer felt Y/N slip into the night's slumber. He quietly reached for the lamp, turning it off and readjusting himself under Y/N’s grasp.

He fell asleep not so long after. Sleeping happily for the first time in a long time.