#i feel a little like i miss more legal style cases?

[vampirecorset]

🕸️⋆˖⁺‧₊☽𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖓𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 🕸️

So I guess I should probably do an intro- (read this then scroll for my t-word info)

HIIII!!

Im Not new here… like at all

Been on tumblr for a couple of years now

Butttt I dooo need to explain what I’m about on this blog, and why not with an intro post!!

So hi my name is Chloe, not bedda that’s just the word for pretty in Sicilian

I’m mostly Sicilian and native but I’m also Irish and German so ye

Tickling for this blog is completely… erhh drum roll please-

SFW

And please understand by that I just don’t allow nudity or sexual content, like I’m perfectly fine with t-word torture and intensity but if it’s pörn then nah no thanks.

Also another big bullet point, uh guys-

I AM A MINOR

*surprised picachu face*

I’m a 16 year old, and I have my birthday in said bio.

Btw,

PÖRN BOTS, NSFW BLOGS , BLOGS THAT SAY MINORS DNI, AND BLOGS WITH NUDITY DNI‼️‼️

DO NOT REBLOG MY POST AND PUT KINKY TAGS OR TAGS YOU WOULDNT WANT AN MINOR TO INTERACT WITH

And do NOT MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE ABOVE 18 THATS WEIRDDD

Fun facts about me, let’s goooo!

IM TAKEN BY @fillibusterbuddy THEYRE LITERALLY SO AWESOME GSIXNSKJSGZKS :3

I’m a Roman Catholic! Please don’t worry, I really do keep in mind to respect others no matter who they are or believe in so don’t be worried hun I won’t harass you lmao

Mm I’d say my style is more vampire romantic goth, kinda 90s goth if you will

I speak a Little German and I’m learning Sicilian and Cherokee as of rn!! So if I say any of those languages on there and I say some thing wrong please inform me :)

My favorite animal is a Siberian tiger 🐅

I WILL BE SUPPORTING PALESTINE ON HERE AND SHARING INFORMATION ON THAT AND MISSING INDIGENOUS WOMEN

Those are the genocides I worry about the most, however I will reblog what information I find about others

MY TWORD INFORMATIONNN WHOOP WHOOP

I’m 10000000% lee, I’m not gonna be your ler so sorry pfft

I’m don’t mind teases dm to me or in asks, in fact please please PLEASE send me asks and fic recommendations!!

I’ve never been tickled in real life sooo I have no idea where I’m the most ticklish at 🧍🏼‍♀️

I think my fav tool with have to be a good old fashioned feather

And honestly if I had to guess I feel like I’m the type of person to have a ticklish belly button so…

I DO ROLE PLAY!!

But I’m always gonna be the lee cause your girl is a horrible ler

Btw when it comes to messages, I’m very  inconsistent with responding cause I’m a busy Highschooler in all honors classes

So please don’t take offense if I don’t answer, sometimes I’m not ready to reply and sometimes I get nervous so please be patient

Id consider myself a shy person too so don’t be surprised when you gotta tease first or make the first move cause Yeahh 😭

I WILL ALSO POST AGE REGRESSION CONTENT SO IF YOU DONT SUPPORT THEN LEAVEEEE

My fandoms‼️‼️

•Heathers (the movie and musical)

•Fire Emblem

•Fairy Tail

•Naruto

•Pokémon

•Seraph of the End

•Vampire Knight

•The Case study of Vanitas

•Nintendo

•Slashers

•Monster High

•Avril Lavigne

•Welcome Home

•Demon Slayer

•Obey Me!

•Ouran High School Host Club

•SpongeBob Musical

•Hamilton

•Legally Blonde

•Aladdin

•Hercules

IF YOU LOVE THESE FOLLOW ME AND REQUEST FICS PLEASE!! TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM I BEG OF YOU I LOVE MY FANDOMS AS IF THEY WERE MY OWN CHILDREN 😭

THATS ALL I HAVE THANK YOU ALL SM FOR READING!!

DONADAGOHVI ‼️🫶🏼

January, 26th, 2024

[leftpuppyfestival]

A Trip Back in Time: How People Talked About replica handbags 20 Years Ago

I am positive many of us have heard about bogus baggage, and in many cases purchased them in advance of.​ Bogus luggage are a tremendous trouble in today's style world.​ These are built to glance just like designer bags so It can be difficult to tell that is which.​ It truly is such a bummer that individuals would even stoop so minimal and create these faux baggage, which not only are a rip off to designer brand names but will also, are minimal top quality.​

Once i observed my friend having a designer-hunting bag, I was so envious and wished to get one myself.​ Until eventually I discovered that it absolutely was a pretend, and I Just about fainted! I had been so mad, knowing that she experienced likely been jipped of her money.​ To make issues even worse, the bag wasn't even effectively-manufactured nor did it glance pretty much as good as the real point.​ A handful of days later on the strap broke and that is when she realized it had been a fake designer bags pretend!

The worst portion was that the bag had cost her lots of money.​ It wasn't affordable, still the standard was terrrible.​ It had been painful to view a colleague working experience this type of loss.​ I signify, who truly Gains from these bogus bags? Certainly no one.​ And It can be not only the large names that faux luggage hurt, but additionally little corporations who craft authentic luggage and also have to compete with faux luggage.​

I've encounter lots of folks that obtain these fake baggage mainly because they Feel they're able to just 'get away with it'.​ They could get absent with it for some time, but it's a make any difference of your time in advance of they recognize the true expense of a phony bag.​ It's a squander of money and time.​ As well as, the morality concern.​ It's normal expertise that purchasing phony bags is prohibited, and still persons hold acquiring them, Irrespective.​

Having said that, in case you find yourself in the need for a designer-searching bag, you will discover options like 'classic outlets' and even branded outlet shops.​ These shops have astounding bags which will appear fantastic and past longer than an everyday bogus bag.​ Not surprisingly, it'll Price a lot more than a fake, but quality in no way will come affordable.​

Let alone, the phony bags never commonly Show the vintage attributes that authentic bags do.​ Particulars like components, lining content, stitching, stamp of authenticity and more, are missing in bogus baggage.​ On the other hand, the original designer baggage have an additional standard of sophistication which the bogus bags, Unfortunately, never have.​

Another concern with these bogus luggage is that they're often manufactured with counterfeit products like leather, which aren't only unhealthy but also degrade conveniently.​ They do not previous extensive and break aside, which, in turn, affects the quality of the bag.​

Furthermore, faux bags generally lack legal warranties that include legitimate brand names.​ Which means, even should they harm accidentally, you may by no means get it mounted with the help of your designer's label.​ That is why It really is far better to pay somewhat more than have a bag that can certainly stop working.​

Lastly, the scent of faux baggage is nearly always plenty of to spot them from the real deal.​ Bogus baggage have an uncomfortable oder to them due to fakes resources they are designed with.​ This is exactly why it is important to examine the scent from the bag when producing a obtain, to you should definitely're not remaining tricked.​

I recall investing in my laptop computer for The cash needed to acquire my first duplicate bag.​ I couldn’t think that this desire of having a designer handbag was ultimately close by.​ And when it arrived, I felt like I was in heaven! It experienced everything - attractive leather-based, a delicate strap and also a brilliant lining that matched the color of my costume.​ I felt like a celeb.​

It had been the best dimension for my on-the-go Life-style.​ Anytime I was out and about, I could conveniently slip it over my arm, carry all my Necessities, and still glimpse elegant.​ I could also fit in all my knick-knacks and even more which made it an ideal companion for weekend visits and obtaining all-around city.​

The best part of possessing a duplicate bag was that it was a lot more reasonably priced than the usual designer brand.​ Don’t get me wrong…I even now like designer brand names, but the worth tag just doesn’t usually fit in my budget.​ With replica luggage, I was capable of help you save a ton of money and nevertheless get a fantastic on the lookout bag.​

Irrespective of every one of the wonderful attributes of a replica bag, there was a single down side - the sturdiness.​ I predicted the bag to final me for awhile, but right after about six months of utilizing it, the fabric began to break down.​ The bag just didn’t delay in sure weather conditions.​ This wasn’t a giant offer for me as I just replaced the bag with a newer 1, but this might be truly worth taking into consideration for people seeking a a lot more long-lasting accessory.​

The bottom line is, for those who’re looking for a trendy and affordable bag that’ll assist you look put-together, a duplicate bag is a great way to go.​ From my practical experience, I can claim that it’s absolutely well worth the dollars you’ll be paying out.​

I've also employed a variety of other replicas - which include a Kate Spade impressed duplicate.​ I thought this was a particularly excellent obtain as it gave me the texture of a designer bag with out breaking the bank.​ I acquired many compliments for it, and it felt like it absolutely was just the appropriate dimensions.​ What's more, it experienced more than enough element to really make it glance very exclusive.​

I've also experimented with a Gucci inspired duplicate that was comprised of substantial-excellent components and a far more intricate design and style.​ It absolutely was Completely stunning, even so, the detail was a tiny bit too much and I felt like it absolutely was also extravagant for every day don.​ I'd personally ordinarily reserve it for Specific events or nights out.​

A further wonderful duplicate I tried out was a Michael Kors inspired bag.​ This was a little something I arrived at for When I required to search classy although not overly dressy.​ It was ideal for Distinctive events, nevertheless nevertheless relaxed with its minimalistic style and design.​ I did locate the straps somewhat short for me, but absolutely nothing too bothersome.​

My working experience with replica baggage continues to be good In general.​ I discover them to generally be a terrific way to get designer appears to be without having sacrificing a ton of cash.​ I like which i get to specific my personal fashion by the selection of reproduction baggage I very own.​ Once in a while I like to interchange them for anything different, as they usually very last me about six months before breaking down.​

Nevertheless, I do understand that not Everybody feels the same way about replica baggage.​ Some people think that they’re not worth the dollars, and that designer bags are outstanding regarding good quality and magnificence.​ I am able to surely respect that impression.​ What I do know is always that, for me, duplicate luggage have already been an unbelievable strategy to take a look at a range of kinds without breaking the lender.​

The ethical in the Tale is the fact It is basically not worthwhile acquiring pretend bags.​ You will discover a lot of pitfalls concerned and the standard will likely be not worthwhile.​ The original high-quality designer baggage have colonial insurance policy, warranties, excellent design and in addition greater materials.​ Shelling out somewhat further will promise you the quality and gratification of owning a real bag.​ Moreover, It can be unlawful, and versus the moral code.​ You should not be fooled into purchasing a phony!

[massivekingdomreview]

6 Online Communities About replica bags You Should Join

I am positive many of us have heard about phony bags, and in many cases bought them before.​ Pretend baggage are a big trouble in today's style planet.​ They can be manufactured to glance just like designer bags so It can be hard to notify that's which.​ It's this kind of bummer that folks would even stoop so minimal and produce these phony baggage, which not simply absolutely are a rip off to designer brand names but also, are very low high-quality.​

Once i noticed my Mate which has a designer-wanting bag, I was so envious and wanted to get just one myself.​ Right until I discovered that it absolutely was a faux, and I Practically fainted! I had been so mad, realizing that she had probably been jipped of her funds.​ To produce matters worse, the bag wasn't even nicely-designed nor did it glimpse nearly as good as the actual factor.​ A couple of times later the strap broke and that is when she recognized it was a phony!

The worst section was that the bag had cost her lots of money.​ It was not cheap, however the standard was terrrible.​ It absolutely was painful to observe a colleague experience this kind of loss.​ I signify, who actually Gains from these phony bags? Definitely nobody.​ And It can be not simply the big names that faux luggage damage, but in addition small firms who craft first baggage and also have to contend with pretend bags.​

I have encounter a lot of folks that acquire these pretend luggage mainly because they think they can just 'get away with it'.​ They may get away with it for a while, but it is a subject of your time prior to they realize the real price of a bogus bag.​ It's a waste of cash and time.​ As well as, the morality challenge.​ It's normal knowledge that buying bogus luggage is illegitimate, and but persons hold purchasing them, Irrespective.​

Nevertheless, in the event you end up in the necessity for a designer-hunting bag, you'll find alternatives like 'vintage stores' or maybe branded outlet suppliers.​ These outlets have incredible luggage that may glance fantastic and final extended than an everyday fake bag.​ Obviously, it'll Price tag more than a bogus, but good quality by no means comes low cost.​

Not to mention, the bogus baggage do not ordinarily Screen the typical attributes that genuine luggage do.​ Specifics like hardware, lining material, stitching, stamp of authenticity plus much more, are missing in phony bags.​ On the other hand, the first designer luggage have an added degree of sophistication which the bogus bags, sadly, do not have.​

A different issue with these pretend luggage is that they are often manufactured with counterfeit components like leather, which are not only harmful but also degrade conveniently.​ They don't very last extensive and crack aside, which, in turn, influences the caliber of the bag.​

Additionally, phony baggage normally lack legal warranties that include legitimate manufacturers.​ Meaning, even should they problems accidentally, you can never ever get it preset with the assistance from the designer's label.​ That's why it's improved to pay a little additional than Use a bag that can certainly break down.​

Last but not least, the odor of fake baggage is nearly always enough to spot them from the true offer.​ Bogus bags have an disagreeable oder to them due to fakes elements They may be designed with.​ That's why it is vital to check the scent of your bag when making a order, to be sure you're not getting tricked.​

I remember buying and selling in my notebook for the money needed to purchase my to start with duplicate bag.​ I couldn’t feel that this dream of having a designer handbag was lastly nearby.​ And when it arrived, I felt like I had been in heaven! It experienced everything - lovely leather-based, a delicate strap along with a vivid lining that matched the color of my dress.​ I felt like a celeb.​

It had been the best dimension for my on-the-go Way of life.​ Anytime I used to be out and about, I could simply slip it about my arm, have all my essentials, and continue to glance fashionable.​ I could also fit in all my knick-knacks plus much more which produced it the ideal companion for weekend journeys and getting all around town.​

The best part of possessing a replica bag was that it had been a lot more inexpensive than a designer brand name.​ Don’t get me Completely wrong…I however like designer models, but the price tag just doesn’t usually slot in my budget.​ With reproduction baggage, I was able to help save a ton of money and nevertheless get a fantastic on the lookout bag.​

Despite the many amazing features of a reproduction bag, there was a single down side - the sturdiness.​ I expected the bag to last me for awhile, but right after about 6 months of working with it, the fabric started to break down.​ The bag just didn’t hold up in sure weather conditions.​ This wasn’t a big offer for me as I just changed the bag with a newer one particular, but this could be truly worth looking at for those seeking a extra extensive-lasting accessory.​

The underside line is, in case you’re hunting for a trendy and inexpensive bag that’ll help you search set-with each other, a replica bag is a terrific way to go.​ From my practical experience, I am able to mention that it’s undoubtedly definitely worth the income you’ll be paying.​

I've also utilized a range of fake designer bags other replicas - like a Kate Spade encouraged duplicate.​ I believed this was a very terrific acquire as it gave me the texture of a designer bag without breaking the bank.​ I been given plenty of compliments for it, and it felt like it was just the best sizing.​ It also experienced plenty of detail to make it glance extremely one of a kind.​

I've also tried a Gucci motivated replica that was comprised of large-high-quality components and a more intricate style and design.​ It was Certainly gorgeous, nevertheless, the detail was a little bit a lot of And that i felt like it absolutely was way too extravagant for every day dress in.​ I would normally reserve it for Exclusive events or evenings out.​

An additional great replica I attempted out was a Michael Kors impressed bag.​ This was a little something I arrived at for When I necessary to search tasteful but not extremely dressy.​ It was perfect for Particular occasions, nevertheless even now relaxed with its minimalistic design and style.​ I did locate the straps a tiny bit quick for me, but absolutely nothing far too bothersome.​

My expertise with replica bags has become favourable Total.​ I uncover them to generally be a terrific way to get designer appears to be like without the need of sacrificing a ton of money.​ I love that I get to express my personal design and style by way of the selection of duplicate bags I very own.​ Every now and then I like to switch them for anything distinct, as they usually past me about 6 months ahead of breaking down.​

However, I do recognize that not Everybody feels the identical way about duplicate luggage.​ A number of people feel that they’re not well worth the money, Which designer baggage are excellent regarding top quality and elegance.​ I can certainly respect that view.​ What I do know is usually that, for me, replica baggage are an unbelievable way to explore many different styles without having breaking the financial institution.​

The ethical with the story is the fact it's simply just not worthwhile shopping for bogus baggage.​ There are actually too many threats associated and the standard will likely be not worthwhile.​ The original excellent designer bags have colonial insurance, warranties, very good development and likewise superior materials.​ Paying out a little bit additional will promise you the quality and gratification of owning a real bag.​ Other than, It can be illegal, and versus the moral code.​ You should not be fooled into buying a phony!

[pyro-peony]

Thoughts on 9x03 of Suits

Everyone on Twitter is on the Faye train and like look I do like that someone is telling them to be better, but she’s is also just so disrespectful to everyone there so...idk die I guess????

This white dress on Donna and the grey suit on Harvey is sending me to a different plane of existence. I’m so emo. And Harvey watching Oprah????? Can I just say I imagine that he overheard her show once while waiting for a client, got sercretly hooked, and when Donna didn’t come over he searched for old episodes about couples in the work place to try and make himself feel better???? Fam....what is this life.

Harvey suggesting that he would answer to Louis and never to Faye is so nice like Harvey and Louis really are friends y’all I cry.

Samantha is like my favorite person. I’d let her sashay all over me. And Alex Williams is a prince.

Harvey Specter is the hottest man alive.

OMG LOUIS AS A JUDGE I WOULD LOVE THAT!!!!! I kinda hope it happens later in the season??? We’ll seeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

I REPEAT. HARVEY 👏🏻 SPECTER 👏🏻 IS 👏🏻 THE 👏🏻HOTTEST 👏🏻 MAN 👏🏻 ALIVE 👏🏻. ENJOY THE FUCKING SHOW FAYE.

Katrina is so nice and deserves so much. But I do miss her being a bit edgier, a bit meaner. Where’s season 2/3 Katrina??

Louis’ dream killed me? Twelve Harveys on the jury??? AND ONE WITH A CAT??? The fact that Gabriel Macht chose all of those poses himself because he’s the director has me ascending.

See this is what I’m talking about with Faye. You gotta meet people where they’re at and instead she’s using her power to make everyone kneel-and honestly I don’t see the point or how she thinks this is gonna be successful. And asking Donna to do secretary work? Nah. I’ll kill you myself.

Omg Alex please adopt Samantha that’d be amazing. Also this blue dress on her??? I die.

Susan is STONE COLD but like not in a fun way? Like I wanna destroy her?

Gretchen is a true queen but she’s also so worried about them all and I feel for that.

FAYE, DONNA LITERALLY OFFERED TO GET YOU A SECRETARY THE DAY YOU ARRIVED BUT NO YOU WANNA USE EVERYONE ELSES SO YOU CAN MAKE THEM FEEL LIKE SHIT AND I WONT STAND FOR IT.

Awwwww Donna and Harvey on a date trying to talk to each other it’s so cute I’m 😍😍😍😍😍 “water is wet I mean who says that??” “I know I got flustered!!” Y’all...yall. Update: I’M GONNA BE YOUNG HARVEY AND YOU’RE GONNA BE RICKY GARFIELD’S MOM 😭😍😭😍😭😍😭

Louisssssssss please you’ve come so far don’t let Faye turn you into the worst!!!

THERES MY KATRINA!!! Love ya bitch!!

Awww Harvey and Louis. My very first wish for this show (besides a canon Darvey) was Louis and Harvey becoming friends. They so aren’t a match but they’re also so perfect for each other. I’m just 🥺

SAMANTHA THATS A HELL OF A THING TO DO??? Y’all she’s trying to find her birth parents. WOWOWOWOWOW okay okay. My prediction is Harvey helps Samantha find them on that road trip in episode 7.

See honestly this is what makes me so angry about Faye. I thought Harvey’s proposal at the end was fair - all this just to get Gretchen back. Faye should have her own secretary but she was mad Harvey won. And yeah she’s doing her job but Harvey doesn’t cross lines just to cross them. Ugh fam I just want to punch Faye in the face.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR MORE TEARS AND BULLSHIT. LOVE THAT FOR US!!

[princehrry-writings]

Legal Guardian

ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.

warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying

wordcount: 2481

harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella

masterlist

Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…

.

.

.

It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.

The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.

Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.

A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”

Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.

“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.

“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.

From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.

“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.

“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.

“I will call security, sir!”

“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.

“She’ll be fine-”

“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.

How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.

“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.

Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.

“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.

“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.

“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”

“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”

The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.

“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.

“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”

“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.

“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.

“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.

“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.

“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.

“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …

“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.

Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.

“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”

“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.

“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.

“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.

“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.

“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”

The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”

All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.

“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.

. * .

*

“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”

“Thank you so much Ben!”

. * .

*

“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”

“Yeah mommy?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.

“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.

“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.

“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”

“That’s right baby, very good!”

“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.

“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.

“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.

“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.

“Do you want him to be?”

Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.

The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.

“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.

[imgonnaragnorockurshit]

Annihilation Day: Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: 18+ minors DNI, language, fluff, LOTS OF FLUFF, minor angst, like super minor, more like vague allusions to past angst but blink and you’ll miss it, alcohol, one mention of throwing up rip.

a/n: Hello friends! I took a slightly different approach to this chapter and wrote sort of like a vignette style so we could skip some time, I had this story start earlier in the calendar year than it does canonically so I could build in some extra time for Helena to meet and connect with the other characters (I didn��t wanna just toss her in and force those relationships) so this will hopefully serve as a helpful time jump through a couple of months to put us back in the canon timeline of season 1 episode 3 (around mid-January) for story’s sake I stretched the Healy case out quite a bit (by a few months) but I feel like legal cases generally don’t move as fast as they do in this show anyway so it’s fine lol. But anyway, I digress, enjoy!

word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

The world around Helena is hazy, but that doesn’t make it any less warm and comforting as it is right now. It’s calming. It’s home. If she ever had such a thing. There’s a woman, with a warm smile and bright blue eyes, she’s got long, curly brown hair, a honeyed color that matches her own quite well, she thinks. The woman presses a soft hand to the side of her face, and the gesture gives Helena the urge to cry, though she isn’t sure why. There’s a man too. He has a kind face, with big, down-turned green eyes like her. He has a sharp, angular nose, one that looks like he perhaps broke it as a boy and never had it set- but it’s his.

It’s the face of her father.

Helena jolts out of her sleep in a cold sweat, heaving breaths frantically into her lungs as she surveys the room around her. Realizing finally where she was she took a deep, albeit shaky breath as she let her eyes close again, falling back against her pillows. These were her least favorite of the constant dreams she was plagued with. Dreams of phantom memories of people that she never got to know, of the things that she almost had. It made her angry.

She tried to remind herself that at least this way her parents were memorialized in her mind as kind and good people, but that didn’t stop her from mourning the lose of them raising her. She probably hadn’t seen them since she was 5, it was a miracle she even kind of remembered their faces.

Although the possibility that her fractured mind had merely fabricated them for her when she needed comfort in an effort to keep her from loosing her mind, was certainly not lost on her.

At the thought she felt tears burn at the back of her throat. She swallowed them with only a minor wince and forced herself back to sleep.

When Helena woke up again the sun had risen and she was no more rested than she was when she woke up at the witching hour that same morning. But tonight, was Friday, which meant dinner with Mrs. Sánchez and… Matt. That filled her with at least a little bit of excitement for the day as she dragged herself out of bed. She hadn’t seen her neighbor in a good half a week, avoiding her at all costs to spare the old woman from seeing her marked-up face. The woman had of course ventured across the hall to ensure that her young resident hermit was okay, but Helena always came up with some sort of, often horse-shit, excuse as to why she couldn’t open the door.

Thankfully, her bruises faded quickly, because there was no way Mrs. Sánchez would’ve believed her charade much longer.

The day moved fairly quickly after she got up. Before she knew it she found herself pulling her beef stroganoff off the stove and piroshki out of the oven. Filling her travel containers with the warm food, she prepared to make the short trip across the hall to Mrs. Sánchez’s apartment when she heard a knock on her door.

Drying her hands on a nearby towel, she made her way to swing the front door open, revealing the one and only, Matt Murdock.

“Hi.” She greeted, slightly breathless stepping aside for him to pass through her door way. “Come on in, I’m just packing up dinner and then we can go across the hall.”

“Thank you.” He followed silently behind her as she resumed her previous action. As he leaned himself against her counter top he felt something small thump against his shin. He tilted his head down toward the sound of another tiny heartbeat. “Hello?” he asked quietly.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry that’s Fish, don’t mind him, he’s kind of an asshole.” She laughed looking at the pair. Her heart melted a little bit at the sight of Matt carefully crouching down to give the little goblin some chin scratches, causing soft purrs to fill the room. “Well look at you two.” She mused softly, causing a smile to break out across his face as well.

Truth be told, he had been ready to call and cancel that morning, his fear of growing to close to people and the ever present voice in the back of his head chanting you’re better off alone, you just cause pain to everyone you touch, having gotten the better of him. But then Foggy adamantly threatened that if Matt canceled, then he would move everything in his apartment without so much as a method to his madness. Not just a ‘move everything an inch to the left’ situation, which he had already pulled once before mind you, no, he was promising to put all his beer under the couch, his vacuum in his shower and his spices pretty much all over the apartment. So, in the interest of less of a headache for himself later, he reluctantly agreed to go.

The decision seemed a lot easier to him now as he breathed in deep, practically tasting the food she’d made in the air. He could smell her too, her shampoo, and just the natural scent of her. And the sound of her quiet laugh could probably get him to do anything she asked of him.

He spent pretty much the entire dinner mesmerized by her, just the way she talked, and the endless kindness that she showed her neighbor. Mrs. Sánchez was rather mesmerized by him. He even heard her pull Helena aside when they first arrived, whispering, “My goodness, he is so handsome, where did you find him?” he suppressed a smirk as Helena shushed her elderly friend playfully, the three of them taking a seat at the table.

The dinner went on without a hitch- Mrs. Sánchez fawned over Matt, Matt listened to Helena tell the old woman about her week since she’d last seen her and vice versa, and he got to eat his first home cooked meal since probably when Karen made him and Foggy that casserole after they got her out of prison.

And the weeks continued that way.

September, October, November, December-

Helena created more memories during those four and a half months in Hell’s Kitchen than she’d had anywhere else in her entire life. Friday night dinners with Mrs. Sánchez turned into family affairs with Matt, Foggy, and Karen. She always had Matt or Foggy walking her home from her closing shifts at the bar, even though she knew she didn’t need it, but it made them feel good to know that she got home safe and it made her feel good to know that someone cared. So, she let them.

Matt had made it his personal mission to chip away at the woman’s exterior. Against his better judgement, he felt the irresistible longing to know her. And as long as he didn’t let himself get too close, letting himself accept some small pieces of her would be fine.

Wouldn’t it?

Regardless of Matt’s tendencies to self-sabotage, he and Helena grew even closer as the months passed. As the weather got colder, their friendship only grew warmer. It was a feeling that burned him in only the best way. He watched as her more skittish nature melted away, leaving in its wake an unguarded and unadulterated version of herself that was just her. No fear, no distrust. And unbeknownst to Matt and the other two thirds of Nelson & Murdock, Helena hadn’t felt that way with people in a long time. Mrs. Sánchez was probably the first and only person she’d come to trust in all her time in America at all.

Until now.

He learned that she spoke five languages, that she had some family overseas, though she didn’t elaborate much on them, and that she loved the ocean. She learned that his father used to be a boxer before he passed, that Matt attended the Clinton Church, and that he was close friends with its priest Father Lantom, who had helped raise him during his time at St. Agnes. The more layers the two pulled back from each other, the more they found they had in common, and suddenly the things that made them feel so broken and bloody, didn’t seem so scary anymore.

Helena’s select secrecy when it came to discussing anything before her time in the U.S. however, concerned and upset him. He wasn’t upset with her specifically per se, just at the prospect of something so heavy hanging over her that she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. He couldn’t really blame her either, he too was hiding an entire part of his life from her, but he had a hard time thinking of anything she could be hiding that would surpass the skeletons he had in his own closet. Her family, he found, was among the sorest subjects to ask her about. He could hear her heart fall and her breath pick up at the mention of anything of the sort.

“I’m not related to them,” she’d began one night as he helped her clean up after dinner across the hall, “but they’ve always been my family.” She paused again, like she was debating over whether to continue speaking, to give him this piece of her or to keep it locked away in the pit of her stomach and the base of her skull. “Imani is the one who took me in as a kid.” She began as she occupied herself with washing the dishes, not daring to look up towards where she would feel Matt’s phantom gaze on her, and he didn’t dare say anything, in fear of scaring her back into silence. She cleared her throat as she continued. “I uh, I got into some trouble and ended up on her doorstep, and she could have just sent me on my way, but she didn’t. After that her whole family took me in as one of their own.” She wiped her hands on a nearby towel, waiting on Matt to respond.

“They sound like very wonderful people.” He commented gently, resisting the urge to reach for her. She smiled, “why don’t you go visit them?” he asked tentatively, bracing himself for the possibility of her closing up again. He was shocked when that wasn’t what happened, instead all he got was a small shrug.

“I’m sure they’d ask the same thing, I dunno.” She spoke quietly, “I just left somethings behind, and it’s hard to go back, even if I leave the good behind with it.” She was being intentionally vague, he knew that, but he didn’t push her any further. For that she was grateful.

They went to Josie’s more often together too. The four of them would cram into the seats at the bar and drink too much cheap beer, Foggy even convinced Helena to drink the eel with him, an event that led to her spending the night at Matt’s, asleep on his bathroom floor after he graciously held her hair back as she threw up the contents of her stomach. He rubbed soothing circles on her back all the while as she muttered curses towards Foggy, some in English and some in Russian in her drunken, sick haze.

“What the fuck was in that drink?”

“I hope Foggy is as sick right now.”

“I’m gonna poison that son of bitch.”

Even with her curled over his toilet, sweating through her shirt, drunk out of her mind, Matt thought she was the prettiest thing in the world. Even if he couldn’t even see her. Even when she’d threatened to stab him when he tried to move her to his couch. He just smiled, cooing calming nothings to her as he grabbed her a blanket, wrapping his around her shoulders as she insisted she wanted to sleep in the bathroom.

Her small and quiet “Thank you Matty.” Before she nestled her head against the edge of his bathtub as closed her eyes, made his stomach flip in summersaults, mountains of butterflies flying ramped in the cavern of his sternum.

Other times she would take care of him. Once he had taken a tumble down the stairs from the roof of his apartment, he’d been hit a little too hard in the head the night before, leaving his senses muddled and unfocused. She’d luckily been coming by that morning anyway to drop off some files from another case they’d had her look in on, and knocked on his front door, only to hear a weak, “it’s open.”

He listened as she opened his front door, heart beat one of confusion. When she laid eyes on him, sprawled out at the bottom of his stairs she let out a string of Russian curses before setting the stack of papers down along with her bag, and running to his side. Helping him sit up, Helena was careful as she gently cradled the back of his head, no blood, much to her relief.

“I fell down the stairs.” He tried to joke weakly. She smiled and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. He could’ve cried.

“Yeah I can see that Matty, can you stand?” Gentle, she was always gentle. He nodded his head as she helped him move to his couch. She fished a bag of frozen peas out of his freezer, placing it into his palm so he could press it to wherever his head hurt the most.

There’s one night in particular, that Matt had found himself in particularly deep. The two of them, along with Karen and Foggy, where spread around Karen’s living room, all drinking wine in celebration of the Nelson & Murdock trio winning another case. The four were laughing and joking and as Matt and Foggy were deep in their own conversation, he heard Karen raise to her feet, tugging Helena with her, both women giggling quietly to each other.

“Come on teach me! I’m a fast learner I swear.” He heard Karen exclaim excitedly, clapping her hands together. Foggy noticed Matt’s distracted gaze to the center of the room where his two friends stood.

“Now what are you two heathens up to?” Foggy asked in mock accusation, his eyebrow raised.

“Helena is gonna teach me to dance.” Karen gushed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Russian folk dancing, specifically.”

“Ah I see, well go on then sensei, I would join but I’m pretty sure my dancing would count as an act of terrorism against your culture.” Foggy laughed, taking another sip of his wine.

Helena snickered playfully at him before turning back to Karen, “Okay so to start you usually want to stance yourself like this-” Matt stopping listening to the words she was saying and focused more on the sound of her voice as she walked Karen through the steps of the traditional folk dance. He listened as she gathered the sides of her ankle length skirt in her hands and lifted it to her knees, to allow Karen to see the positioning of her feet. He was overwhelmed, in the best way, by the wave of the smell of her skin that was sent his way at the action. He took a deep breath, listening to his two friends dance and laugh, her laugh made him smile.

Foggy smirked over to the side as he watched his best friend all but gawk at the woman in front of him. He’d pocket that information for later, right now he just enjoyed watching his friend act absolutely whipped in real time.

Matt Murdock had long since made his peace with being blind, but as he listened to her dance and spin and laugh, he decided that he never wished he could see again, if only for a moment, more in his entire life. To see her like this would be a gift that he would beg God for every night and pray for every time he went to church.

Matt found himself using her company as almost a metric, measuring his time from meeting to meeting. It wasn’t like how it was with Elektra either. With Elektra, he felt like he was drowning when he was without her and like he was being burned alive when he was with her, a feeling that at the time he’d convinced himself was love, but now he recognized it for what it was. Toxic, manipulative, painful. With Helena it was different, granted the nature of their relationship was also very different. They were just friends, they’d met under completely different circumstances, they weren’t breaking into rich houses together, and they certainly weren’t fucking. But still, Helena felt like just as substantial of a relationship as the one he had with Elektra all those years ago. A relationship that was going to change him, for better or for worse he wasn’t sure yet, but he was more than willing to find out.

And Helena shared the same sentiment. Platonic or other wises, Matt had grown to be very important to her. When Helena was with Matt she felt… good. She felt normal, something that had been all but denied from her this far.

But good things never last forever, and what goes up, unfortunately, must come down.

“Do we have any details on her? Affiliations, credentials, anything?” a mysterious, terrifying man asks on one side of an even more mysterious and terrifying black car.

“No sir, there’s almost no record of her anywhere, unfortunately she cut her connection pretty much as soon as we got the ping that she was looking into our business. But we were able to pin point the general radius of where she was searching from and she’s definitely in Hell’s Kitchen, so it’s only a matter of time before we track her down.” Another man speaks from across the car, smaller than the first, with a nice suit and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

The first man hums in acknowledgement, and the second holds his breath as he awaits his response. “Take care of this as quickly and quietly as possible, especially after Union Allied and the fiasco with Ms. Page, we cannot risk further exposure.” The man finally spoke, prompting the man across from him to nod his head in agreement.

“Of course, sir.”

“It is a shame,” the man contemplates, gazing out the car’s window, into the dark, misty scape of Hell’s Kitchen.

“A shame, Sir?” his subordinate questions cautiously for clarification. The man turns his head back to face him.

“It’s a shame that such talent will have to go to waste.”

a/n: oh??? Mysterious??? jee I wonder who that could be? I had to take multiple breaks while writing this to scream into a pillow so I hope you all enjoyed, hopefully my next one won’t take as long to write now that I’m moving in time with the plot.

Hot person taglist: @freshabogados @elgrandeavocados @angelsfilth @moonlarking ​

Comment or dm me if you want to be added!!!

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Red Flags

Warnings: Serial killers, breaking and entering, torture, manipulation and broken bones AN: Huge thank you to @9layerdevilfoodcake and the lovely Carissa for bouncing some ideas and beta reading this while I was struggling!

AO3

Michael had enough. He was tired and hungry, getting nothing more than delirious in this forest. He stood on shaky legs, not caring about the blood of the goat he just killed. He didn’t know where he was going, just letting his feet carry him to wherever they pleased. He no longer cared about the destination. His surroundings faded into nothingness, until a familiar white-picket fence came into view. He finally focused on his surroundings, immediately starting to sob when he recognised where he was. His childhood home, his grandmother’s house. His body must have craved the familiarity and the warm embrace that only she could provide. But like every other mother figure in his life, she was dead, and he blamed himself. With bleary eyes he pushed open the squeaky gate. The smell of roses made the memories rapidly flash through his mind. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The house had been untouched for years. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. He thought of his grandmother watching the house fall into this state of decay. Watching.

He felt the eyes of the house next door on him. He refused to look out the window. He didn’t want to see the looks of disgust and pity. He wiped his eyes and stood a little straighter. This was his house now. He could do whatever he wanted here. No one to answer to, no more deadlines and most of all, no more older blonde woman dictating his life. ////

He stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble and lack of sleep seemed to age him. His hair was no longer perfectly styled, it was wild and uneven. The more he looked at himself the more his face began to morph into the women in his life. He hated it. He didn’t want to look like the woman that threw him out at his lowest. Or the woman who, even in her death, could not accept him as hers. He carried the ghosts of next door with him, and he’d do anything to alleviate himself of that burden. He could only change his appearance for so long. Hair dye would eventually fade; contacts would need to be removed and he wasn’t willing to put himself under the knife.

The smell of blood on his clothes pulled him out of his thoughts. The mirror reflected the decrepit house he was in, turning his nose in disgust. With the last of his strength, he mustered a tiny bit of magic, using a spell to clean the house. He walked through the house as it returned to it’s former glory, remembering his own attempts at interior design when he was younger, looking up the beams and archways where he would nail his ‘gifts’ to his grandmother. Times were simpler then. He shook his head of the nostalgia, hoping the plumbing was still working; he needed a nice hot shower.

//// None of the clothes in the closet fit him anymore, he didn’t realise how much he had grown. For now, a towel was the best he could do until his other clothes were out the dryer. He spent his time scouring the house for legal documents, anything that entitled him to some money and the deeds of the house. He needed to get this all under his name, just in case his grandmother used that stupid medium to undermine him. He tugged open the last drawer. Bingo. Everything he needed conveniently placed in one place. Money, a will and the deeds of the house. He would need to go to whatever legal office to get it sorted. The dryer still had time to go. With a big sigh, he sat on the couch. The one that faced the ‘other’ house. He gave a smile to those still watching him. He must have looked demented by the reactions he got from them. The exhaustion and hunger were catching up to him, succumbing to sleep on the couch.

////

It was morning when he woke up. He let his towel fall with a big stretch. Thus was his house; he could do anything. Even walking around naked. He kept the blinds and curtains that faced that house open. Let them watch. He pulled his warm clothes on. The detergent brought back memories, he’d buy a new scent when the time came. He grabbed some cash and whatever documents he needed for the day, venturing out into the big bad world.

////

Humanity deserved to perish simply for the time it took at the bank. The manger was an old lady, greying blonde hair and a pair of ill-fitting glasses. Michael thought she was extremely rude and didn’t hide his distaste when he spoke to her. She asked far too many questions for such a simple procedure. “Young man, aren’t you far too young to be accessing these funds?” she asked, looking over her glasses. “I can’t control when my entire family dies now can I,” he spat back, sick of her already. She continued to look him up and down as she typed away. Printing something off, she slipped a booklet of paperwork to him. “Everything has been approved, your card should arrive in the next few days. Can I do anything else for you?” “I’d like to take out some cash.” “How much?” “$500.” She paused, “what are you planning on doing with that?” Michael was getting beyond irritated, his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his temples. “There’s no need to be so rude young man,” she huffed. Michael gave her a sarcastic smile before snatching the money and walking out of the bank. The world would be better off without her. He’d deal with her soon. ////

Michael returned home with numerous bags of clothing and food. He would learn how to cook for himself, takeout was not sustainable. The pantry was stocked with basic essentials, but most of it was stocked with candy and other snacks. No one could stop him from indulging in his gluttony now.

His wardrobe was full of blacks and reds, the perfect colours for him. He was most looking forward to the black jumpsuit. It stood out to him in the store, a style he had never tried before. His fingers drifted over the seams when he tried it on, turning and admiring the various angles in the mirror. He looked up to the clock through the mirror, it was almost 5pm, if he didn’t leave now, he would miss her leaving. ////

Michael waited for the old bank manager to leave. Biding his time in the shadows. He watched her as she said her goodbyes in her shrill voice, then as she walked to her car. Michael stalked behind her, waiting for her to get in. As she got comfortable, she dropped something by her foot pedals. When she reached down to grab it, Michael took the opportunity to get in the car and lock the doors. He smiled at her when she screamed. The parking lot was empty, no one would hear her. “Shhh,” Michael put a finger to his lips, the other hand held up a gun. It was one of Constance’s that she had hidden in the house. The woman suddenly stopped, her shaking hands on the wheel. “You’re going to drive, and I’m going to give you directions,” he said, his tone left no space to argue. She nodded, tears in her eyes, hoping he would let her go eventually.

////

They pulled up outside the murder house. Michael got out first, taking the keys from the ignition. The woman stayed in the car, still shaking. She wasn’t given much time to think, Michael dragged her out of the car and up the steps, his hand over her mouth. Her legs flailed around, heels falling off and feet dragging on the ground. Sill, Michael paid her no mind, not even as she thumped down the stairs when he threw her into the basement.

He felt eyes on him again as he went into the kitchen, looking for something sharp. When he got to the basement door, it was blocked by none other than Dr. Harmon himself. “You don’t have to do this kind, you know you’re better than this,” he tried to convince Michael. “You didn’t have to cheat on your wife, now here we all are, miserable in the same fucking house,” Michael spat back. “He didn’t give Harmon a chance to respond, teleporting into the basement where the woman cowered in the corner.

“Please, I’m sorry if I did something, there’s other ways to solve this,” she cried. “I need to get home to my grandkids,” she tried to appeal to his softer side. He continued to stalk towards her, ignoring her and inspecting the sharp knife. “You’re far too old to still be this rude. I think that it’s a habit that can’t be solved anymore,” Michael replied, sounding disappointed. The woman couldn’t back away any further, stuck to the wall. Michael got down to her level, wiping away her tears. “You have grandkids?” She rapidly nodded, hoping he changed his mind. “I had a grandma too. Looked just like you,” he took a blonde hair and sniffed it, it didn’t smell like her. “At least she had basic manners. And, she wouldn’t be caught dead in this hideous number,” he pointed out. He had to give Constance credit where it was due. “Do you want to know what happened to my grandma?” he whispered in her ear. She was too shaky to respond. “I killed her too,” he whispered again, this time his voice cracked a little; remembering the day he found her dead in this very house. Even if she was a ghost, she could have at least spared him a hug. His eyes began to well up. The woman took this as an opportunity to reach out, placing her hand on her face. He snapped back to her, taking her hand in his. “But no one can ever replace her,” his voice still shaking. He felt like a little boy again. He could feel the pity from the woman. She wasn’t scared of him anymore and he didn’t like that. He was no longer a child. He had a greater purpose. Without hesitation, Michael sliced her throat, letting himself be covered in her blood. He looked at his reflection in the knife. Maybe this was the look for him, covered in blood. He licked his fingers, tasting the liquid. “I’ll save the heart for later,” he thought to himself, before ripping it out and making use of one of the fridges. This was one way to pass the time and maybe, it would finally get his father’s attention. //// A car was found on a random highway. In it was the mangled corpse of the owner, and a simple letter signed by ‘the Alpha’. This marked the beginning of a new wave of violence in southern California. A serial killer was on the prowl. The victim profile was quite strange. Typically, killers would choose young women. However, this killer liked older blonde women, usually grandmothers or mothers. It scared you regardless, worried that one day the preference might change. You worried for your co-workers too, many of them fitting the description. The thought that you might have even interacted with the culprit made your skin crawl. ////

Things would inevitably go wrong if one were fuelled by bloodlust alone. Michael had broken into the wrong house. The woman that pissed him off at the supermarket lived a few doors down. Regardless, he was curious as to who lived here. The home was so different to what he was used to. The interior design choices were not the standard ‘live, laugh, love’ and farmhouse kitchen with seashell bathrooms. This house was nice, it had a younger feel to it, the heels by the door further proof of his theory. He quietly made his way up the stairs, looking into every room and taking it all in. He finally found the occupied room. The dark-haired woman was fast asleep in her bed. Comfortably sank into her pillows. He adjusted the blinds a little so he could see better. The way the moonlight reflected off her face took his breath away. His fingers twitched, he wanted to take her home this instant. He could take care of her, he knew he could. He liked a challenge however, he wanted her to come to him. He didn’t know how long he stood and stared at her, only leaving once she stared to stir. He’d be back. ////

Michael’s heart was jumping out of his chest when he arrived back to the murder house. The residents were surprised he didn’t come home with another victim or even a drop of blood on him. His face was flush and he was in deep thought. Luckily for the residents, souls were not congesting the house, as Michael would make sure to burn the new souls as soon as he could. He whispered nonsense to himself as he made his way up to the attic. His trance was interrupted by his foot hitting a box. Had it always been there? He slowly took the lid off, finding an old camcorder and lots of tape. Was he living in the movie ‘sinister’? He was the scariest thing in this house, no ghoul could ever top him.

The box gave him something to do for the rest of the night. Returning with some snacks and in his pyjamas. The entertainment didn’t last long. It was just shitty home movies from former residents. It got worse when they’d come forward and explain them. He turned his face in disgust at the last one; a homemade sex tape. He gagged before turning it off. The sun was rising, telling him to go to bed. As he put the camcorder way, he had a genius idea.

////

You felt weird when you woke up. It was as if someone had been watching you. Your blinds were slightly open, and your bedroom door ajar. Had someone been in? As you walked through the house, something just seemed a little off. Things were ever so slightly out of place. There even seemed to be less fruit juice this morning than you were sure you had last night. Maybe it was the paranoia of the current situation getting to you. You sighed and shook your head before going to get ready for the day.

////

You hated working in the family and wills sector of the legal profession. You were hoping to make the move to fashion law soon, just waiting for the right opportunity. You really weren’t made for the requests of dead people and their bickering relatives.

You greeted one of the partners. Ms Grace everyone called her. She was your mento and a mother figure to you out here in the big bad legal world. Hopefully, she’d give you a good reference when you left. “New client for you today, just… entire dead family,” she whispered the last bit, making a cutting gesture with her hand. “That sounds horrible.” She nodded, before letting you set up for the day. ////

It was afternoon before said client showed up. Your office phone rang informing you of his arrival. A tall, blond man sat in the waiting room; his eyes widened in recognition when he saw you. You decided to ignore it. “Hello, are you Mr. Langdon?” “I am.” “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, in Y/N and I’ll be taking your case,” you held your hand out for him to shake. It was comfortably warm. “Please, call me Michael.” You nodded and smiled, before leading him to your office. “Any refreshments before we get started?” He shook his head. From the outside, his case looked simple However, the deaths in his family left a convoluted mess, but you were sure Mr Langdon would get what he wanted. He was the only legal and living heir after all. You chatted away as you printed off and filled out the relevant forms. The conversation came easy. It had been a while since someone had caused butterflies in your stomach.   You weren’t unprofessional however, keeping it professional with clients. When all was done for the session, you saw him out and waved him off. The interaction with him had left you a little flush. The receptionist giving you a knowing look.

////

This was totally unplanned. Michael wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. He thought that maybe his father had a hand in this, a reward for his hard work. He made his way back home, keeping the packet you gave him close, it still faintly smelled of you. He sat on the couch facing the other house. Images of you occupying his mind. It all got too much, lazily stroking himself to the thought of you that afternoon. ////

He left the house again, camcorder in hand. He pressed record as soon as he got inside your house. Filming every little detail leading up to your room. Even filming himself waving in the hallway mirror, as if he were recording and innocent home video.

He slowly opened your door. You accidently left the lamp on that night, giving him the perfect lighting. He zoomed in on your face before getting closer. Your duvet was blocking the view, reaching forward to carefully move it a little. Running his thumb over your lips and getting it on camera. He groaned at the softness. His fingers skimmed over your face, neck and collarbones. He watched as your nose crinkled a little at the touch. Cute. His evening plans were abruptly cut short when your phone began to ring. At this hour? Who was it? You began to stir at the invasive sound. Michael didn’t have time to run, transmuting out the house as fast as he could.

////

In his free time, Michael indulged in all that his family would disapprove of. And nothing could vex Constance Langdon more than her shitty grandson doing all types of drugs. He liked the feeling weed gave him. It helped him relax after the adrenaline rush of a kill. Sometimes, the murder house had a horrible stench of weed and rotting flesh, prompting the residents to keep the windows open. He even tried other things, like Acid and MD. He didn’t like the restlessness they gave him. He especially hated when his face would morph in the mirror, turning him into the people he hated the most. He wondered what it would be like to get high with you. He wanted to melt into you just like he did the floor when the THC finally got him. If he couldn’t get to you that night, he would replay the tapes on the big screen and jack off, wishing you were there. The residents of the house watched in disgust and horror. They may have done terrible things but surely, they weren’t this bad.

////

Mr Langdon’s case had successfully ended, he had gotten what he wanted. You bumped into him a week later, on your lunch break. “Oh? Y/N? so nice to see you,” he stood in the line at your favourite coffee shop. “Like wise,” you smiled up at him. “Would you like anything? I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You tried to reject his kindness but didn’t want to hold up the line, giving him your order. You both sat at a quiet table, waiting for your drinks and pastry. “I don’t usually see my clients on lunch breaks.” “Former client,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. You watched him add five packets of sugar and wondered why he didn’t just get a sweeter drink. Your conversation continued, with your shoes constantly touching under the table. It felt very childish, but maybe you were missing the playfulness in life. Your phone alarm went off, indicating you had to get back to work. As your phone was unlocked, Michael took it and tapped his number in, leaving you at the table with a wink.

////

These interactions led to casual dates. The murders began to slow down, making you feel a little safer. With this in mind, you accepted Michael’s invitation when he invited you over. You were nervous as you waited for him to open the door. The evening breeze did little to distract you from the feeling of being watched. Michael opened the door and you sighed in relief. “You look… beautiful,” he stuttered. “Not too bad yourself,” you smiled back.

He moved aside to let you in, leading you to where he had set up. “I didn’t know you could cook.” “I’m a man of many talents.” He looked out the window, making sure the other house was watching. They looked nervous, hoping you would leave in one piece. They watched you laugh and talk. This could not have been the same boy that had terrorised so many. He was confident, suave, and personable. Worlds away from the awkward, nervous cry baby of a serial killer that they had become used to. He cleaned up well, even tidying up his wild hair. They wondered how long it would last. How long would it take for you to see the real him? They hoped you got out before it got to that state. The time flew by, and you both seemed to get closer by the second. You didn’t notice until your noses were touching, conversation halting. He seemed to be waiting for something, almost hesitant. You took the initiative and captured his lips. All of his hesitation melted away, his hand reaching around you and pulling you closer. The kiss got more heated, indicating that it would lead to something else. However, luck was not on your side. You phone ringing and interrupting you. Michael wanted to smash that phone; this was the second time it had stopped him. You apologised before picking up. Michael watched your expression change and brows knit in annoyance. You put the phone down, apologising. “I’m so sorry Michael, but I’m going to have to go, I’ve been called into work tomorrow and this is an important client, I hope you can understand.” “Of course, I’m sure you’re busy and I won’t keep you. Do you want me to drop you off?” He didn’t know why he asked that question, he didn’t have a car. “Oh thank you so much for understanding, and the offer. I drove here myself so there’s no need to worry about that,” you smiled at him. Michael helped you with your belongings, leading you out the door. You turned to thank him again, before he leaned down to give you another kiss, causing you to blush. He walked you to your car, taking in the interior. He waved you off with a smile. He knew you’d be back soon. ////

Michael shut the door behind him. He thought the night was a success. He opened the cupboard and pulled out your jacket. He hid it away, so you’d forget about it. The designer logo stood out to him. He buried his face in the fur, taking in all of it. Your scent, your warmth, everything. He had been so close to you. He wanted to watch the tapes with this in hand, for that he would have to venture next door. He wasn’t prepared to finally come face to face with his grandmother, looking down on him, cigarette in hand. “Michael fucking Langdon,” her southern drawl was harsh. He hadn’t been spoken to like that in years. He gulped as he watched her slowly walk down the stairs. “Why haven’t you grown out of that terrible habit of yours. You just have to destroy pretty things.” She stopped at the step just above him, still looking down. She gently stroked his face like she used to when he was a child, and he leaned into the touch. The peace was disturbed by a loud slap echoing through the house. Michael’s face turned to the side. He held his cheek, slowly turning to the woman with bleary eyes. “You have some nerve coming back to this house with that attitude of yours, clearly the ‘Church’ didn’t teach you any manners” Michael was trying to find his voice, to finally face the woman that he blamed for half of his problems. “And now look at you, that poor girl doesn’t even know the half of it.” She snatched the coat away from him. “Look at this Michael, this is Prada. And did you see the car she drove? What makes you think you deserve her? Look at yourself,” she gestured towards him. “Hair unkempt, Jobless, all you eat is candy and human flesh. What are you going to when she finds out the truth?” Michael hadn’t actually thought about that. He had neglected himself and his appearance for a while now. Did it really matter that much?

////

“Look, Y/N, all I’m saying is that you can do better. Look at you, you’re beautiful and well dressed and have such a good job. And him, well… he’s a little scruffy and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a car,” Ms Grace did not approve of your relationship with Michael. She thought you could do better. “I see where you’re coming from but he’s charming. Although I do agree he could clean up a little better. I’ve seen him all dressed up and he looks so good. I just don’t understand why he chooses to look like… that most of the time,” the last bit was more meant for yourself. Your conversation was interrupted by Kevin, a colleague from another office. “He should take a page out of Kevin’s book,” Ms Grace pointed out. Kevin raised a brow at the conversation he had just become a part of. He too was on a lawyer salary, a well-dressed man that anyone would swoon for. “Who’s ‘he’?” “Y/Ns …. Boyfriend?” Ms Grace replied. “Nothing to concern yourself too much with Kevin, you know what Ms Grace is like,” you interjected. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. He must be something to reach those high standards of yours,” he pointed out. “Oh he’s something alright,” Ms Grace muttered. You huffed at the conversation. You didn’t think you were a superficial person, but your colleagues thought otherwise. //// Michael had heard enough. Sometimes he would scry into your workplace, just to check on you, to see if you thought of him as much as he did. The conversation reinforced Constance’s criticisms from the other day. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious in a while. He was not one to idle, immediately finding a hair stylist with an availability. He wanted a transformation that would floor you. With that in mind, he headed to ‘Gallants’. //// The hairstylist was truly annoying, yet he seemed to have magic in his hands. The final reveal shocked Michael also. The confidence he had at Hawthorne seemed to return. He held his head just a little higher as he walked out. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, people stopping to stare at the angelic looking man that strutted down the street. On his way to his next destination, he stopped at the sight of a certain symbol. An inverted cross. His feet had a mind of their own, leading him inside. His scar began to tingle. The congregation turned to stare at the man that had just walked in. They knew. It had to be. The high priestess getting on her knees before him. He could get used to this. //// He reached his final destination for the day. He didn’t usually kill men, but if they got in his way, he didn’t care who he killed. He waited for Kevin to come home. He was going to kill him here. He wasn’t worth the effort of taking him all the way to the murder house. Michael didn’t even give the man a chance to scream. Getting rid of him with a snap of his fingers. //// The murder house watched Michael carefully curate his image the next few months. An entire new wardrobe, his old clothes dumped in the murder house. They watched the elaborate skincare ritual every morning. Carefully peeling away masks and applying serums. How very American Psycho of him. You loved the new look. You made sure everyone in the office new you’d made the right choice. Michael loved the new attention, but he made sure you knew he only had eyes for you. He even planned on offering you a better job in Kineros’ legal team, just so he could keep you close and get you out of the sector you complained about so often. //// A strange thing happened one night. Michael took the camcorder down into the basement with him, setting the lens to record his newest victim. After he was done, he burned the footage onto a disk. What was he up to? //// You were on autopilot as you opened your door. You felt numb. Ms Grace had become another victim to ‘the Alpha’ along with one of your neighbours. You spent the entire day in police interviews, trying to make sense on the situation. As you walked into the house, you stepped on something. A thick envelope, labelled only with your name. You picked it up with shaky hands and opened it. In it was just an unlabelled disc and a sticky note saying ‘love from the Alpha’. It made your blood run cold. This had to be a joke. Some was messing with you; it could be the only explanation. You ran to your DVD player, you had to see what was on the disc, you hoped it was some shitty quality movie ripped from the internet. The video came on, starting in a dark room. The camera turned to a woman tied up, it zoomed in on her face and you immediately recognised her as Ms Grace. Your eyes widened and you felt ill, running to the bathroom to be sick. It was still playing when you came back, changing to a different video. It was dark again but it all seemed so familiar. The camera panned up and you gasped, your hands covering your face. It was a video of you, sleeping in your own home. You no longer felt safe here. You quickly took the disc out and grabbed your essentials, running to your car. As you pulled out your street, you had no idea what turn to take. Turning right would lead to the police station, you could submit the disc and ask for protection. However, they rarely did anything about stalking cases, and the disc had your finger prints all-over it. A left turn would lead to Michael. You felt safe around him and you were sure he could offer you comfort at this time. The beeping behind you made you make your decision. //// You pulled up outside Michael’s house. You rapidly knocked on the door, there was no answer. No light was on in the house. You prayed to whoever that would listen that he didn’t have any other plans for the night. As you lost hope and looked around, your eyes fell to the imposing structure next door. You remembered a conversation where he had said he was restoring the home. A light was on. With a deep breath, you ran up the steps, repeating your previous actions and hoping for a response. A shocked Michael opened the door. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. You didn’t notice the feral look he had going on. Hair dishevelled and blood-stained clothes. He gently put the knife down and wrapped his arms around you, cooing and shushing you. Telling you to calm down and it would all be okay. He was glad you were wearing a dark colour; you hadn’t noticed the stickiness of his hands and the stain they left. He gently moved you into the house, shutting the door. He used his magic to shut the basement door too. Your face was still buried in his arm as he walked you up the stairs. You should have paid attention to your strange surroundings. The ghosts of the house looked at you with the greatest of pity, wishing they could do something.

He sat you down on the bed, kneeling before you and taking your hands in his. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?” he asked gently, wiping your eyes. You sniffled and calmed your breathing, trying not to freak out again as you explained the situation to him. “I… I think he’s after me,” you whispered. “Who’s ‘he?” “The Alpha, he’s after me, I know it.” Michael paused, you must have seen the DVD. He had to stop himself from laughing. “Why do you think that hmm?” his thumb stroked your cheek. “Three people I know have died and then I got this DVD in the mail,” you paused, “It… it’s a video of Ms Grace tied up and then one of me sleeping,” you began to cry again. Michael sat on the bed next to you, pulling you in for a hug, you buried your face into him again, taking in his scent and trying to calm down. “You’re the only person I feel safe around,” you mumbled. Michael smiled into your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted. ////

You decided to wash your face after you had calmed down. Wetting a towel with cold water, you placed it on your eyes in an attempt to de-puff them. The ghosts thought this was the perfect opportunity to warn you about your possible doom. Vivienne pulled open the shower curtain behind you. Revealing a bathtub full of ice and another victim placed in it. However, their plan didn’t seem to work. You didn’t even look back at the sound, having walked out the bathroom just in-time. Michael was sitting on the bad, waiting for you. He had changed into more casual clothing and was rolling a joint. “It might help you calm down,” he smiled up at you, twisting the end off. You sat back on the bed and joined him, relaxing into the headboard. The conversation was casual and mundane, something you really needed right now. Between the sound of his voice and the passing of the joint, you had no idea how much time had passed. All you knew at this moment was that you wanted to be as close to him as possible. Hands began to wander, and your lips met for a heated kiss, you ended up straddling him. You let yourself be lost in the haze, not knowing exactly when your clothes came off, just that you enjoyed the feel of his skin on yours. You lifted your hips, moving to finally having him inside you, to be as close as you could be. You waited a little, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you got used to his size and took it all in. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your spine was blissful. His hands finally rested on your hips, gripping them and encouraging you to finally move. You complied, taking your time. You moved away from his shoulder. He took the opportunity to leave marks all over your breasts. It just felt so good. You could feel that you wouldn’t last much longer, your movements becoming sloppier. Michael rested his hand on your throat, his face morphed into something a lot more vicious than you were used to. It must have rang some alarm bells, but you weren’t listening. His grip on your neck tightened, and his hips began to thrust up, meeting your movements. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his grip tightened once more, causing the coil in your belly to snap. Your legs shook, walls pulsing around him as he followed not long after. He pulled you into a deep kiss by your neck, slowly moving you off him and onto the bed. You lay there catching your breath, staring into his eyes. Just for that brief moment, nothing else mattered, forgetting about the serial killer that was on the hunt somewhere. You got closer to him and got comfortable, your head resting on his chest, being lulled by his heartbeat. “I was thinking,” he started. “Hmm?” you mumbled back, enjoying the vibration of his speech. “Maybe you should take a break from work for a while and stay with me for a bit, just until things calm down,” he suggested. At that moment in time, the combined high of weed and sex made it seem like a genius idea. Surely it was the most obvious solution? “Yeah it’s a good idea,” you yawned. The exhaustion caught up to you, your heavy eyes falling shut. Michael squeezed you just a little tighter and smirked up at the residents that had surrounded you. Their looks of pity towards you were something else. Michael buried his face into your hair, turning off the lights around him. It was the most blissful sleep he had had in years.

////

You woke up sometime the next afternoon. Michael was nowhere to be seen. After using (the now empty) bathroom, you ventured through the house. It looked different. It looked complete in a way. The tarp, random cans of paint and building materials that you were sure where there last night, were gone. It was as if it had been transformed overnight. The strangest thing was how familiar the décor and interior looked. It looked like a bigger version of your own home. It felt familiar yet uncomfortably so. Quite frankly, it looked like your dream home, styled as if it was going to featured in Architectural Digest. You knew it didn’t look like this last night, nothing close to it. Then you thought back to the wardrobe upstairs, the one you had sleepily pulled your current clothing out of. It was full of your own clothing. Clothing that you didn’t bring with you. Did Michael do this while you were asleep? When did he get the time? You scoured the house for your car keys and purse. Only finding pieces of familiar décor instead. Your stomach got the better of you, heading to the kitchen and hopefully finding something to eat. The pantry was stocked full of your favourites, pulling out a box of your favourite cereal. It was at this moment you were sure that all the pieces were taken from your home. One of the cereal bowls had the same chip that yours had. The nervousness and paranoia of last night began to seep back into you, your face visibly twisted in those emotions. As you mindlessly ate your cereal, the basement door creaked open. You stopped mid chew to look. You quickly swallowed and slowly walked towards it. Telling yourself that there was nothing to fear, and that you were just going to shut it. You heard a thud as you reached the door. Maybe Michael was down there and needed some help or something. You slowly walked down the steps, being careful not to make any noise. Your hand covered your mouth to stop your scream and prevent you from vomiting from the smell. The image forever burned into your memory. There was blood everywhere. Michael had his back turned to you, you were sure he hadn’t sensed your presence yet. You slowly backed away, trying to be quiet and not alert him. You let out a shaky breath when you were back in the hallway. You didn’t care about finding your things now, you had to get out of here. The front door wouldn’t budge open, the backdoor was no different. None of the window’s downstairs would open either. You then remember one of the windows was cracked open in the room you were sleeping in. You may injure yourself, but it looked like your only way out. You pushed the window up even further, making enough room for you to jump out. You hoisted one leg over the ledge, looking out for your landing spot. You prepared yourself to move the other leg, but it wouldn’t budge. You tugged at it a few times before looking back. Those blue, rage filled eyes were staring back at you, holding your leg, and preventing you from getting out. “Get. Back. In.,” he said, through clenched teeth. You shook your head, looking away from him. You didn’t want to think about who’s blood he was covered in. “Please let me go,” you whispered, hoping he’d take mercy on you somehow. His grip just got tighter. You mustered up all your strength, kicking him off you. He let go of your leg, it gave you enough time to jump. You felt the wind rush around you as you fell. You hit the ground a lot harder than you thought. Your head ricocheted off the ground painfully. You ignored the crunch your legs made. Everything hurt so bad, the pain wouldn’t even let you scream. You knew you had calculated your fall right. The ghosts thought you did too, all watching with various shocked expressions. You tried to move and look around you and stay awake. You could only look up. Through your darkening vision, the last thing you saw was Michael leaning out the window, smiling down at you. The cat had caught the canary.

////

You groaned in pain as you opened your eyes.

The light was blinding, difficult to adjust to.

Where were you? Why were you here? How long had it been?

As you looked around, the room looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Oh? You’re finally awake, It’s been a few days, I missed seeing your eyes” a male voice spoke from beside you.

You slowly turned your head to the voice.

The man looked familiar; you raked your brain to figure out who it was.

He placed his hand on your cheek, you hissed and flinched as he stroked scabby and bruised skin. “Look at you. If you had stayed inside, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

His eyes finally met yours and everything came rushing back.

A feeling of dread overtook you. You tried to shuffle away from him, but something was preventing you from moving.

You tried to figure out what it was. Looking yourself over, noticing the blanket was bulky.

You momentarily forgot about the predator in the room, pulling the blanket away and revealing your legs, both in casts.

One of the casts had been signed, ‘get well soon, Love, your Alpha’.

You wanted to sob, but you knew any sudden movements would be painful.

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket back over you, tucking you in.

“If you’re good, you’ll get your painkillers. If you’re bad…,” he leaned over you, putting his weight on your legs, “I’ll cut them off next time,” he grinned.

He got onto the other side of the bed, holding you close to him, squeezing you just a little too tight, and giving your forehead a kiss.

Not even the apocalypse could get you out of his grasp now, he’d kill you both before anything tried to take you from him. Wherever you were, that was his sanctuary. Even if it meant eternal torment in the pits of hell, it didn’t matter, as long as it was with you.

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.  

Honestly?  

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head.  “Just some fan mail.”  

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano.  You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale.  “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office.  You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not.  Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights.  Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.  

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks.  They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons.  He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law.  Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul.  You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.  

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died.  The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past.  In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.  

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up.  He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.  

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother.  You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.  

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.  

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.  

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office.  You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side.  You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk.  A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception.  I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while.  I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it.  Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs.  Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.  

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize.  It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body.  Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right.  So we have a problem,” he admits.  “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.  And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.  

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly.  “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother,  “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around.  People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.  

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all.  You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning.  A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority.  You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm.  “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door.  You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself.  I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass.  He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety.  Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.  

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name.  It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues.  “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly.  Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by.  And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink.  “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment.  I’m privy to information you don’t have.”  He takes a long drink from the highball glass.  “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.  

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military.  He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted.  You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure.  You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.  

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him.  You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.  

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.  

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture.  There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales.  “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment.  And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to.  Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.  

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement.  “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work.  Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.  

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame.  Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.  

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother.  He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times --  almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions.  Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though.  That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you.  Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.  

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood.  He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.  

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain​@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale​

[spade-riddles]

Tea 🍵 Time Responses

Tea Time! There's something in the bridge of Coney ISLAnd you all are missing!

🍵

Coney Island 🎤

_____________________

rainbowdaisy13 said:

Ok look into Isla Grant. She’s a Scottish folk singer and a lot of her song titles are like woah. “Daisy for Mama, You’re the Best Friend, Partners in Rhyme, Keeper of my Heart, Out of the Blue”

Could be a weird coincidence

lov4-kaylor said:

Maybe Something to do with the Gold Clock??? We just recently saw the Gold Clock in the Fearless De-Coding post from T. Maybe we still need to de-code something further with the Gold Clock. The word scramble was too easy for Ts style anyway!

a-swift-folklore said:

Why write it like IS-LAnd? My first thought was "Is LA"

sherryd23 said:

Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey.. a universe away...

Anonymous said:

Isla is a Scottish feminine given name, and it just so happens to be pronounced EYE-la 🧐

Anonymous said:

ISLA / isn't there a famous treeline in LA? it's been in a lot of movies. bonus :drake's party was in LA

asteracaea said:

the only isla i know of is fischer...

cyberpunk89 said:

maybe it’s “name” in “when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your NAME” and tea time anon made it Coney ISLAnd, so… ISLA the name? Still not sure, it’s too simple.

UPD: well. Taylor sings “ [your] name” on 3:19 and it’s 3+1+9=13. I hate these “13″ references even if it’s coincedence.

Anonymous said:

It's probably obvious, but the Trump family bought up huge swathes of Coney Island in the 60s and got entangled in legal actions over what to do with it. Locals were trying to revitalize the area but Trump Sr wanted to forget the fairground amenities and build more profitable apartments instead. I don't remember all the details but I think they took him on and he won. The setting adds a layer of sad irony to Taylor singing about losing the good times after the election.

Anonymous said:

re: tea time/ full disclosure i'm terrible with riddles but if you google gold clock nyc the most prominent that comes up is on fifth avenue (the 666 kushner bullding is also on fifth avenue). it's not much but i hope we can solve this

Anonymous said:

ISLA-Lisa baby name?

Anonymous said:

Okay the Coney Island bridge makes mention of a birthday and TT! anon hid the name Isla in their message! Could Isla be the name of the Kaylor child?

Anonymous said:

ISLA Blair, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

lov4-kaylor said:

Could it be the babies name??? Ben??? Silly me that's the cat's name...

Anonymous said:

"When I walked up to the podium I think that I forgot to say your name " well she certainly did not forget to say Joe's name, so whose name could she possibly have forgot? 🤔😆

Anonymous said:

Anonymous said:

Well it could be Isla, as in the name, that's why it was capitalized. But if it was that simple why specifically direct us to the bridge? Food for thought: the bridge of the song has 11 verses/lines (according to google) and Coney Island has 11 letters. So maybe we should focus on the capitalized ones, which are 6-9? So on this part: "Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray / A universe away /And when I got into the accident / The sight that flashed before me was your face".

Anonymous said:

just dropping observations about the coney island bridge, maybe someone else can run with them

Isla is a (Spanish) girls name, that means island

when taylor sings your name in the bridge it sounds like someone is singing in the background/ there is an echo

the only other time this is the case is during the first three lines of the bridge specifically

your name is said exactly from 3:17 (11) to 3:19 (13)

one connection I made was to Taylor mentioning three kids on the last 'podium' where she thanked people. this seemed strange to everyone and feels like it was a placeholder for a name she 'forgot'/ couldn't say

@chosetherose said:

Ooo thanks TT!

First thoughts:

Isla is a popular baby girls name. Is this kaylor’s daughter’s name?

I need to listen to Coney Island again and think things through.

redpaintedgolden said:

i feel like it’s about

Were you waiting at our old spot

In the tree line

By the gold clock

the other lines are kinds self explanatory. and we know abot the birthday cake

Anonymous said:

Re TT Coney ISLAnd, the only thing that has been in my mind since the Grammys is the bit

And When I walked up to the podium

I think I forgot to say your name

Over and over..

So, the baby in Coney Island isn’t the same person that was named in the Grammys speech (obvious, yes)

But what’s really been haunting me about this song is the lyric “when the sun goes down”.. and coincidentally a certain embodiment of the sun or literal sunshine ☀️ went down (in the dark/out of the spotlight) around the same time evermore was released.

swift-79 said:

So I have a little time before a meeting so let see. London has a ferris wheel like a coney island. The London Eye. Lyric:"we're you waiting at our old spot. In the tree line by the gold clock".🤔🤔 So if it is about Joe why is someone waiting in secret! 😉😎🌈 So old golden clock maybe the Big Ben in London. Does it have tree lines?

Yes it does than next lyric:

"Did I leave you hanging every single day?"🤔

Another meaning for hanging can be "floating" She used that word not so long ago. 🤔🤔🤔

Lyric: "where you standing in the hallway with a big cake, happy birthday"

Now about the cake in the hallway we know that KK who left a Victoria Secret photo shooting to be at Taylor b-day or it about the cake in Miss Americana🤔

Don't have more time to decipher maybe this can be a start for another person to continue. I don't know if I am on the right path either. Good luck!!!! 😉😎🌈

kellykaylor said:

When I first saw ISLA in capital letters, i was thinking about the International Securities Lending Association, a trade association. But I dont think thats the part we missed.

So for all the NYC people out here: is there a physical bridge which u can take to coney island? maybe tea time anon was referring to an actual 🌉? swift-79 said:

Hmm Great Britain is an Island in the North Atlantic Ocean! 😉😎🌈

Anonymous said:

re: teatime anon, if the C in Coney ISLAnd is capitalized, perhaps the I would normally be capitalized as well, meaning the change would be the capitalization of SLA.

i don’t have much either than that but, SLA is an acronym for “Service Level Agreement” —which isn’t really a term in the entertainment world i don’t think but one example definition i found is “a guarantee of performance in a contract, with penalties for not hitting the published elements. For example, a customer might have a guaranteed 4 hour response window to equipment issues, or a guarantee on spare part arrival of 24 hours or less.”

[marvelsuperfangirl]

Spooky Coincidences

Bucky x Reader

A/N : I wrote this and the following chapter in a day, I don’t why but the idea of unfortunate encounters with Bucky inspired me, it’s been a while I haven’t written for the Marvel fandom, so I hope you’ll like it :)

Warnings : Punch, broken jaw, spilled burning coffee ( is it really a warning? ) and crappy writing... ( sorry )

Halloween was commercial ! It was an appropriation by the consumation society to make an even bigger profit than the other period of the year.

Candies, seasonal snacks and drinks, decorations, events, haunted houses… Their only goal was to steal the honest people’s money.

Which is why, this year, you decided to become one of the instrument of that overpowerful society. By becoming a monster in a haunted house !

At the time, it sounded like hell of an idea… Now not so much….

You’ve heard about the super fun and well paid experience of working in a haunted house, so of course, you’ve applied to the job and became the ephemeral place’s entitled werewolf.

At first, you scrunched up your nose at the news. Yay, being disguised as a half human half dog being, so cool…

But at least, you were a cool version of a werewolf, wild hair, long white teeth, fake claws fake contact lenses, teared clothes and make up to match the style and give a scary touch to the mix.

After only a few shifts in the haunted house, things started to go south for you, and unbeknownst, itw as only the beginning….

The house had transformed one of its wings into a dark forrest, which floor was covered in fake grass and «  jonchée » of bones, cracking under the feet of the visitors. And you were supposed to jump from between the trees, covered in blood and baring your fake fangs to the already rather scared people who dared to wander in your territory.

The very evening of Halloween, you had to step up your game and look twice as scary to make all the children and daring adults shit their pants, at least, that’s what your boss said, even if you prayed it wouldn’t literally happen, at least not in your area…

You were waiting, crouched behind the fake trees, for newcomers to enter your wing, legs starting to hurt from how long you’ve been maintaining the uncomfortable position.

« Calm down, Bucky, we’re almost out »

As the masculine voice reached your ears, you stood up abruptly and got into character, giving yourself a mental speech.

«  I’m a mean werewolf, hungry for human flesh, and mostly for money, so if I want it, I need to scare the hell out of those humans, let’s go »

« I can’t understand by you get shit scared by fake monster when you’re fighting nazis almost every week » another voice rang , sounding closer this time.

You heard a groan and waited for your preys to be at the perfect place to be pounced on and jumped right out from between the trees.

There was a tall bulky man right in front of you and without thinking you chose him as your dedicated victim for this group.

You advanced toward him, but alerted by your roars he’d already turned to you, eyes wide in fear and had a small backing movement before his fist came colliding with the side of your face.

The punch sent you flying back against one of the fake trees, which produced a very unpleasant noise, and all you could feel was pain and shock.

Your whole skull was throbbing from  the impact of his fist and the pain in your back was almost able to rivalize with the previous one.

Around you, gasps and scream echoed while you were gritting your teeth in a vain attemps at controlling your pain.

« Oh god, are you alright ? »

Someone has crouched down beside you and held your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face, you noticed a few other pairs of feet in your line of vision, joining the first person.

As the shock subdued, on the complete opposite of the pain, you replayed what happened and remembered your attacker. You tried to lift your head as slow as possible as to not worsen the throbbing and search the little crowd with your eyes for the guy who was responsible for the possible concussion you would be diagnosed for, except if you were going to die, that is !

And there he was ! The fear was still evident on his face but now it was twisted with a dose of remorse / guilt.

With you teeth still gritted like your life depended on it, you managed to give a piece of your mind at that stranger.

« Why the hell did you punch me ?! »

Everyone person present in the area turned to him, waiting for an answer but as he start to open his mouth, visibly even more embarrassed, you didn’t let him say anything.

« You f*ck*ng idiot ! What the f*ck, if you’re scared of haunted house don’t go there, you asshole ! Go f*ck yourself elsewhere before I call a lawyer, you dick ! »

You spat all the harsh words you could think about at the moment, your mind blurry from the adrenaline =, while the pain gave you the urge to get it all out and maybe feel a little bit better. News flash : it wasn’t the case.

« Miss, we’re sorry, itw as an accident he’s just »

« Y/N ! »

One of your colleague who was responsible for the lights and cameras in your wing came running toward you, pushing throught the crowd, flanked by a few other members of the team.

« We already called an ambulance to check on you »

« We’ll evacuate the house, stay there and wait for them, it wouldn’t be a good idea to move you ourselves. »

The first one nodded and settled down next to you while the others started to usher your attacker and his friends out, leaving you alone with your colleague.

« It probably sounds stupid but how are you feeling ? »

You glared at him, at his more than known stupidity before softening.

« Like hell, that guy has a killer punch, seriously, I feel like my head’s gonna explode, and my back hurts as well, you tried to move to stretch but your colleage held your shoulders.

« Don’t move, it could be something severe, we’ll see what we can do for that guy and regarding your state if there will be legal pursuit or no, don’t you worry about that »

You leaned abck against the fake tree, replaying the exact moment when you decided it would be a good idea to work in a haunted house to make « easy money ».

« Fuck I hate Halloween »

[iamdunn]

Miraculous One Shot: Truth Singer

A Miraculous Fan-Fic Musical Episode

Written by

AJ Dunn

This was it. Adrien’s 21’s birthday and Marinette was already hard at work on the preparations. Gabriel no longer had control over Adrien so there was nothing stopping him from coming to this party. Marinette had been planning for this day for years and now it was here. Her footlocker in her parent’s apartment was already full of gifts for his next 15 years worth of birthdays, yet every year she ended up making him another gift. This time was no different. She had learned her lesson about not signing her gifts after the whole scarf mix up. Now, she made sure the item she made for him had her signature in it somewhere so there could never be any question as to who actually made it for him.

This year, in light of him being of legal adult age, she wanted to give him something more mature. She had seen him in a black leather jacket in one of his photo shoots and decided to make him something, not exactly like that one, but one that would suit him much better. She had spent days designing the perfect jacket, the zippers, the seams, even the measurements. She had been allowed to accompany him to several photo shoots where she watched the designers with detailed eyes adjust and fit him into the outfits his father had designed for him. She managed to sneak a peek at his measurements and made note of them as she drew out her own designs. 

As the jacket now lay out on her bed she examined every stitch for perfection. The main zipped going up just slightly past his collar bone, was silver. With two slanted pockets near the waist. The fabric around the armpits and sides was a moisture wicking sports material that, while it was designed to move with the wearer, was also designed to keep him cool. His photo shoot was of him sitting on a motorcycle. A kind of rough yet dreamy image that made Marinette melt just thinking about it. The stitching had been done in a neon green to accent his emerald eyes. It would be a slim fitting jacket, she thought, hoping she got the measurements right. It seemed like it was going to be too big for him. 

She was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the trap door to the attic open up as Alya, Rose, Juleka, and Mylene bounced excitedly into the room.

“Do you think she’ll do it this time?” Rose sang. 

“Doubtful.” Alix came in looking bored. “How many times has she tried to tell Adrien she loved him and look what happened?” 

“Well let’s see, She’s fallen on her face.” Alya started

“Chickened out.” Mylene added

“Gave him the wrong piece of folded paper.” Alya laughed remembering the prescription Adrien had picked up for her that had been meant for someone else. They all laughed at that one. 

“It wasn’t funny.” Marinette spun around her face flushed with rose red on her cheeks.

“Dropped the letter into the sewer.” Juleka muttered

“Oh, and let’s not forget how many times she forgot to sign her name.” Alya teased, one hand resting on her hip as the other flung into the air. 

“It’s true, Marinette, you are as much of a clutz telling Adrien how you feel as you are on your feet.” Rose laughed. 

“You are the only single one among us now, Marinette.” Alix thought it would be her to be the last one to hook up with someone until she met a guy in College. Most of them had stayed behind to attend college from home. Especially with the fact that Hawk Moth was still akumatizing people and while no one but Ladybug knew everyone’s secret, they kept their reasons for staying behind a secret as well, in case Ladybug needed them. 

“I will do it this time, I promise.” Marinette felt so confident as she looked at her friends as they cheered her on. 

The music in the park began and the girls realized they better hurry up. They ran past Tom as he was carrying the cake across the street. It was a multi tiered cake with green trim. Sabine was already at the park putting macarons on the table. Nino had the DJ booth up as he mixed music just like he had done the first time he threw a party for his best friend. 

“Dudes and Dudettes, the birthday boy.” Nino called out as Adrien climbed up on the makeshift stage and began to sing along to the song that was playing. Marinette watched him dance and suddenly she forgot how to walk. She stumbled into a bench and fell over. She recovered quickly, not releasing the package she clung to her chest. His movements were so fluid as his legs kicked and stomped about to the rock song he was singing along too. He didn’t move around this much when he played with the band because he had to focus on the keyboard. It was truly a unique experience for Marinette. 

The song had ended as Marinette remained frozen, glued to the bench as if he was still singing and dancing on the stage. 

“Hi Marinette, what did you think,” Adrien scratched the back of his neck as he looked down at her. Oh No he was talking to her, he was looking at her, when did he get there? Marinette could feel the heat welling up in her cheeks as she sat paralyzed by his smile, his eyes… “Is that for me? Can I open it?” he asked. She suddenly realized she was crushing the package in her arms. She held it out for him to take her eyes frozen on his. He tore the paper open tossing it to the ground as Mylene picked it up for him. He held the jacket up by the shoulders musing over it before stripping off his coat and pulling the leather jacket on. He zipped it up and suddenly Marinette realized just how filled out she was. He wasn’t the thin boy he used to be, his broad shoulders and tone upper body now exposed the man he was as the jacket fit every detail of his upper body within it’s form fitting style. The zipper made its way to his neck then his eyes met hers again.

“I just need a silver bell.” He reached up pretending to flick a bell that wasn’t there. Marinette jumped to her feet. Her mind raced as she suddenly realized something she should have known all along. It was so obvious as she now looked up at her friend, her best friend, her crush….HER PARTNER. She ran!

Adrien couldn’t understand what had happened. He watched her run from the park but was so dumbfounded his feet wouldn’t move to go after her. 

“Not again.” Alya said, walking up beside him.

“What did I do?” Adrien was beside himself with worry as he watched her. She wasn’t even heading home. 

“It’s not you, it’s Marinette, she always does this.” Rose said anger fueling her words as she stormed out of the park. 

“Well… I guess she can try again another day.” Juleka muttered. 

“Try what?” Adrien spun around to face her. 

“Nothing.” Juleka left to try to catch up with Rose. A

“Alya?” Adrien begged. “What is going on?” Alya just shook her head and led him back to the party. It had only been a few minutes before the music was stopped by an akumatized victim tossing a large rock at the DJ Booth demolishing it. 

“I am Truth Singer.” the villain said, “And from now on you will all sing your truths so the whole world can hear.” Adrien backed up. This isn’t good. He had to get out of there before the villain made him sing, his truth had to remain a secret. Nino was the first one hit by the villain's powers. He began to sing Perfect, by Ed Sheeran as he took Alya’s hand. She tried to get away to run but was mesmerized by his song. 

Adrien took this opportunity to run while the rest of the party scattered from the park. 

“Plagg, we can’t get hit no matter what.” The Kwami didn’t respond. Oh right. He thought, my jacket. He ran back to the park and found his other jacket laying on the bench. He grabbed it and ran back to the alley. “Plagg?” the Kwami came out of the pocket smelling like stinky cheese. 

“Wow, I wonder how many people thought you looked like Cat Noir?” Plagg said, noting the leather jacket.

“You think that might be why Marinette ran? Do you think she recognized me?”

“She made it didn’t she?” Plagg asked. Adrien lifted the cuff to inspect the stitching, just on the inside of the cuff of both arms was the signature stitching she had placed on everything she had made him. He nodded. He wondered if it bothered her, the thought that he might be Cat Noir or if she truly was in love with Cat. No time for that now.

“Plagg Claws out.” He inspected his Cat suit to realize the suit Marinette made him was very much similar, however the designs were unique. The Cat suit was solid black versus the neon green stitching of the Marinette jacket. He ran back to the park where he found Several people singing. The akumatized person was gone. He could hear her in the distance calling. He gave chase until he found her on Marinette’s balcony. 

“Oh Marinette, it’s time to sing your truth, it’s been far too long keeping your love bottled up.” Truth Singer sang out. What was she talking about? 

“I hate to break it to you but Marinette isn’t much of a singer.” He announced his presence on the roof above her. “But I will be happy to take that akuma from you then we can go find her together, and ask her about this secret you are speaking of.” He lept at her scratching at the bottle of perfume she held in her hands. It was much like Princess Fragrance only instead of turning people into her slaves, she was making them sing about their truth. He missed. Suddenly he was engulfed in smoke. He tried to cough it out of his lungs but it was too late.

 He landed on the railing of Marinette’s balcony balancing on all fours. 

“Well little lady, let me Elucidate here.” He said. He had no idea what to do, he couldn’t stop. “Everybody wants to be a cat

Because a cat's the only cat

Who knows where it's at”

He flipped backward as she swung at him. Maintaining his balance on the railing until there wasn’t any left. 

“Tell me, everybody's pickin' up on that feline beat

'Cause everything else is obsolete

A square with a horn makes you wish you weren't born”

He leaped over her head to the other side of the railing standing up right. 

“Every time he plays

But with a square in the act

You can set music back” He held his hands up  in a shrug gesture. He pulled out his baton. As she came at him again. Her mouth twisted in a snarl as she kicked at him. 

“To the caveman days, cha-cha-ba-dum-bo-day

I've heard some corny birds who who tried to sing

Still a cat's the only cat who knows how to swing

Who wants to dig a long-haired gig or stuff like that?”

“AAH.” She growled, charging at him again. He jumped into the air flipping over her. “Stop moving so I can get your miraculous.” she demanded. 

“When everybody wants to be a cat

A square with a horn makes you wish you weren't born

Every time he plays

Oh, a rinky-tinky-tinky

With a square in the act you can set music back

To the caveman days”

 

“Enough you stupid cat that song is annoying.” She screamed at him. He might not have had any control over it, but it was working. “How is that song your truth anyway?”

“Yes, everybody wants to be a cat

Because a cat's the only cat who knows where it's at

When playin' jazz you always has a welcome mat

'Cause everybody digs a swinging cat”. The truth was clear, he loved being in his cat form. He never felt more like himself than when he was popping off puns, flirting and being generally playful, he always had to be as serious as Adrien, but as Cat, he had all the freedom in the world. 

 

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Hallelujah!

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Everybody, everybody

 

He launched for the perfume bottle again. If only he could call his cataclysm. Suddenly her attention was drawn elsewhere. He followed her gaze and found Marinette sitting alone on a bench down the street. Was she crying. Truth Singer dove off the rooftop before he could grab her. He spun his baton then jumped from the roof extending his staff to give himself a quicker path to Marinette. He landed on the concrete in front of her as Truth Singer was on his heels. He wasted no time scooping her into his arms like a bride before he ran leaping off the walls as he made his way to the rooftops.

 

“You're the light, you're the night

You're the color of my blood

You're the cure, you're the pain

You're the only thing I wanna touch

Never knew that it could mean so much, so much” Damn Marinette got hit. He looked down at her face. It was red as she reached up for his face. So far, this power isn’t revealing their secrets, it’s just making them sing a truthful song, something they felt. 

 

“You're the fear, I don't care

'Cause I've never been so high

Follow me through the dark

Let me take you past our satellites

You can see the world you brought to life, to life”

 

Her voice was beautiful, he thought as he tried to find a place to stash Marinette, where was Ladybug. He had tried to refrain from singing, at least keeping his voice so low that no one else could hear him. He wanted to focus on her voice. 

“So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do

Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do

What are you waiting for?”

Cat froze on the rooftop, his eyes met hers. The heat rose up in his cheeks as she sang. His heart began to flutter. Does she feel this way about Cat Noir, or did she figure it out and know he’s Adrien. 

“Fading in, fading out

On the edge of paradise

Every inch of your skin, is a Holy Grail I've gotta find

Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire”

He gulped back a lump that had started to form on his lips. He was glad he had made distance between them and Truth Singer, or did she get what she wanted. He squatted down on the rooftop as she sang to him. He stroked her face. He could feel his own song changing. Suddenly his feelings, his heart began to sing. The power of the magic between them had actually changed his song.

“I'll let you set the pace

'Cause I'm not thinking straight

My head's spinning around, I can't see clear no more

Oh, what are you waiting for?” Cat Noir sang out the words before they escaped her lips. 

“Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do

Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do, oh

What are you, what are you waiting for?

What are you waiting for?” These were her words sung through his lips as she froze. Her face reddened. He knew he had feelings for her, but he never wanted to admit it, he didn’t want to betray his feelings for Ladybug, but how could he deny the feelings he had been developing for Marinette since day one. Maybe it was just the magic from the akuma, but he no longer controlled his own emotions. He cupped her face in his free hand as the other one was behind her back as she draped over his knees. He pulled her face closer to his, watching her eyes drift shut. 

““I'll let you set the pace

'Cause I'm not thinking straight

My head's spinning around, I can't see clear no more

Oh, what are you waiting for?” She sang just as his lips met hers. Their mouths opened as they pressed themselves closer together feeling every inch of her mouth on his. He could feel the song magic fading, the urge to sing no longer present, but what was this feeling in his heart? It was as if his heart had been turned into butterflies and they were swarming his chest trying to escape. He kept his lips on hers, waiting for her to push him away. She didn’t, she weaved her fingers through his hair gently combing through. 

“Give me your Miraculous Cat Noir, and I will use you to draw out Ladybug.” Truth Singer was right behind him. He quickly grabbed his baton spinning on his heels as he moved Marinette behind him. 

“Grab on.” He said. She jumped on his back as he extended the staff launching them into the atmosphere then swinging it forward vaulting them into flight. They began to fall as she held onto him. He angled to fall to land in and alley way as they came down between the buildings he moved his staff between the building like a hanging rod sliding down the brick building until they slowed just feet from the ground. She dropped from his shoulders as he held on to the now lodged baton. He reached out a hand to her.

He released the baton as it shrunk back to the length of a ruler. He locked it back in place on his back. Marinette stood in front of him still red in the face. 

“I guess kissing a purrincess can break any spell.” He knelt before her, taking her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. She simply stood frozen in place. Unable to speak. “Tell me now purrincess, why did she want you to sing your truth?”

“I have already told you Cat.” She whispered. “About the boy I like, but I haven’t been able to tell him how I feel, I am such a klutz with my words when I am around him.” A single tear fell from her eye. 

“Could you ever love me?” Cat asked her. 

“I don’t know who you are under the mask.”

“I am more myself with the mask, then I have ever been without it, can you love this side of me.” he stood up taking both her hands in his. “And I love you for everything that you are, your clumsiness as well.” he smirked. Heat raced to his face as he watched her, he felt his heart still as his confession fell upon her ears. 

“What about Ladybug.” She whimpered. 

“In the words of a special friend of mine…Plagg, it’s okay to love two people at the same time, especially when they are so much alike.” 

“I’m nothing like Ladybug.” she pulled her hands back. His smile widened. 

“Will you please answer my question?” his heart couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you love this side of me? This man you see before you,” She looked back up at him. “Put the thought of that Sunshine boy out of your head for one second, and focus on me.” Marinette sighed. 

“Yes.” She admitted. “Yes Cat, I do love you, but…” 

“Claws in.” Marinette closed her eyes, blinding by his detransformation. “I trust you, after all you are the only one I know besides myself who has never been akumatized.” He chuckled. He cupped both hands on her cheeks forcing her to look up at him. He could hear Truth Singer in the distance looking for Cat and Ladybug. “You have to open your eyes Marinette,.” She slowly slid her eyes open. Her face reflected a realization that maybe She had figured it out earlier in the park. His heart stilled in his chest waiting for her response. 

“Spots on.” 

“Best birthday ever.” Adrien said, lowering his face to place his lips on Ladybugs. He kept his eyes open as she closed hers. The moment their lips met, his closed as they melted into each other's kisses. 

There you go LadyNoir and Marichat Shippers. We don’t need to finish this story, we all know what happens to the akumatized person. 

Ps, I didn't write the songs, but credit aristocats for the feline good song "Everybody wants to be a cat" and Ellie Goulding for "love me like you do"

[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 ❤️

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】  Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-2 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Xia Yan’s Home

In the days after, Xia Yan and I worked on collecting information on other corrupt detectives as we waited for Sphinx’s investigation results.

Before heading out today, Xia Yan handed something to me.

Xia Yan: Here, I’ve made a copy of the house key for you.

Xia Yan: We’re always going around together, but having a key is still more convenient.

Xia Yan: Actually, I should’ve given you a copy on the day we reunited.

As he spoke, he handed a silver key to me.

I looked at this key that was identical to his and couldn’t help smiling.

MC: How reminiscent. We always had the same key in the past – even the keychain was the same type.

Xia Yan: Yeah, so I specially made two keychains this time. See if you like them!

Smiling, Xia Yan took out two chibi-styled pendants of me and him.

MC: Whoa, they’re so cute!

I reached out to take the Xia Yan-modeled pendant, but Xia Yan simultaneously handed me the one modeled after me.

MC: ???

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan looked at me as I reached out for his pendant, looking somewhat hesitant.

Xia Yan: Uh, mine doesn’t really suit you.

MC: …

⊳ How does it not suit me? ⊳ I want yours

MC: How does it not suit me? I’ll definitely treasure it well, is that not fine?

 ⊳ How does it not suit me? ⊳ I want yours

MC: But I want this one… can’t I?

--

Xia Yan: That’s not what I mean.

Xia Yan: It’s just that you’ll be carrying the keychain at all times, so other people will see it easily…

MC: I don’t mind others seeing… or do you mean that you don’t want others to see?

Xia Yan: How could that be!

Xia Yan: I mean, if you want this keychain, I need to modify it.

MC: Modify? But I feel like this already looks great.

Xia Yan: Not its exterior. I need to add some functions to it.

Xia Yan: Actually, aside from being a keychain, this pendant is also an alarm.

Xia Yan pulled down the keychain based on me, and an alarm quickly resounded throughout the room.

After the display, he fixed the keychain based on me back onto the keychain.

Xia Yan: The decibel count from the alarm on this one is higher than typical alarms, and its battery endurance is also longer. Plus, it’s more durable – it’s water- and fire-resistant for a short period of time.

Xia Yan: I thought that you would want the one based on you, so I only installed an alarm onto that one.

Xia Yan: If you want “me”, I need to make some slight modifications.

MC: Okay, then I’ll leave it up to you, Great Detective Xia!

Xia Yan quickly started working on modifying the keychain alarm.

Right after he had just finished, Sphinx called.

--

Sphinx gave an overview of his investigations for the past several days in the call for us.

According to his investigation, he noticed someone that he suspected to have relations to “Oedipus”.

Xia Yan: You mean that Oedipus might have to do with this “Bedo Loan Company”?

Sphinx: Indeed. For the past few days, I’ve been investigating all the corrupt detectives, including Meng Qishan.

Sphinx: I noticed that Oedipus only had relations of benefit with corrupt detectives after a certain period in time.

Xia Yan: What period in time?

Sphinx: After I faced off with corrupt detective Qian Yi.

Note: What a name… this “Qian Yi” guy’s name literally means Money Benefit (钱益)

Xia Yan: Qian Yi? I don’t think there’s this guy listed among the resigned detectives of Stellis…

Xia Yan looked at me.

Not long ago, Xia Yan organized a list of all the Stellis detectives who had resigned in the past three years, in our search for Sphinx. However, Qian Yi was not among them.

Sphinx: I’m afraid that this is because, not long after my face-off with Qian Yi… he died.

MC: He died?!

Xia Yan: …

Sphinx: According to the police’s death report, Qian Yi died due to cardiac failure, and it was one week after I cut off communication with him.

Sphinx: Right after, Meng Qishan and other corrupt detectives were found and lured by Oedipus to find out about my plan.

Xia Yan: The timeline is indeed quite suspicious.

Sphinx: So, I went to Qian Yi’s house to investigate.

Sphinx: I noticed the same Trojan Horse virus on his computer that was in Tian Xin’s, as well as similar indications of large amounts of data being wiped.

MC: If so, Qian Yi and Oedipus really do have some sort of relationship between them.

MC: Right, Sphinx. Why did you seek out Qian Yi back then?

Sphinx: Qian Yi was a detective in name, but his actions indicated that he was more like an information broker.

Sphinx: He was skilled at using various methods to obtain different kinds of information, to sell them.

Sphinx: Sometimes, he would also use the information he had for extortion and blackmail.

Sphinx: Either he’d directly demand money, or he’d coerce the other party to agree to his requirements.

Sphinx: But his death is likely unrelated to what I found out about him.

Sphinx: I’ve verified with the victims who were harassed by Qian Yi. Up till now, none of them have received any more harassment.

MC: Is that so…

Xia Yan: If it has nothing to do with the victims back then, then the point of suspicion probably has to do with Qian Yi himself.

Xia Yan: As an information broker, his social relations would have been very complicated.

Xia Yan: I’m guessing that Qian Yi might have gotten certain information on Oedipus back then, provoking Oedipus.

Xia Yan: And due to the intersection in timelines, Oedipus thought that you, who was investigating Qian Yi, had already gotten or had a high probably of having gotten information on him.

Xia Yan: Which is why he had to find you, no matter what.

Sphinx: That’s what I was also thinking.

Sphinx: I’ve already investigated the people related to Qian Yi anew. Accept the document I’m sending.

Sphinx soon sent over a document. Xia Yan opened it on the computer.

According to Sphinx’s investigations, Qian Yi had considerably frequent business partnerships with Bedo Loan Company.

Xia Yan: Wait, I remember now. Isn’t “Bedo Loans” that trap loan company that was on the news a few months ago?

The so-called “trap loans” were a sort of criminal act that falsely used the title of “private lending” to commit fraud.

First, the victim would be induced to sign a loan agreement with a low borrowing threshold. After, they would use both gentle and forceful methods to defraud the victim of their money.

Sphinx: Yes. Qian Yi secretly tailed the debtors in these trap loans.

Sphinx: And Bedo Loan Company would violently coerce the debtors when they were unable to repay the money, using the private information Qian Yi had provided to threaten the victims.

MC: That case has already ended. If Qian Yi hadn’t gotten into an accident, he probably would’ve also been convicted, right?

Sphinx: Evidence was insufficient. Qian Yi is proficient with legal clauses and making use of legal loopholes, so he made himself seem completely innocent.

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

Sphinx: Aside from that, I found a person related with Qian Yi. Search up “Ji Xiaoyu”.

Xia Yan searched up this name according to Sphinx’s instructions and soon found a video recording.

--

[Flashback]

Stellis Suburbs

Caution tape surrounded the riverside grass. A woman’s remains, pixelated in the video, were lying on the grass, with blood mottling the area all around.

A rumble of whispers came from the crowd around, saying things like “I heard it was a car accident” and “What a pity, she was so young”.

Young Girl: Sister… sister – sister!!!

A girl hysterically cried “sister”, throwing herself on the body on the ground.

The police forcefully pulled at that girl, trying to persuade her.

Police: Miss, we understand how you feel… but please calm down. We need to do on-scene investigations.

After several minutes of wildly trying to pull out of the police’s grasp, that girl finally slid down to the ground without energy, sobbing bitterly.

Young Girl: It’s all because of me… It’s all because of me that my big sister died…

Lying prostrate, she sobbed for a good while, then suddenly straightened and grabbed onto the uniform of the police officer in front of her.

Young Girl: No, it’s also because of them! They’re all murderers! I beg you, please catch all of them!

She grabbed onto the hem of the police’s uniform, begging piteously, her sobs soundless.

[Flashback end]

--

It was obvious that the video was taken by a bystander – the camera was shaky and the image wasn’t clear enough, but the girl’s weeping made me feel irrepressibly sorrowful.

Sphinx: This girl is Ji Xiaoyu. The deceased is her older sister, Ji Xiaoqing.

As he spoke, he transferred the Ji sisters’ information to us.

The year that the older sister Ji Xiaoqing tested into university, their parents passed due to an accident. Ji Xiaoqing worked as she studied in university, all the meanwhile taking care of her little sister Ji Xiaoyu like a mother.

When little sister Ji Xiaoyu tested into university, she started working as she studied as well, trying to lighten the load on her older sister.

The two sisters had always had a good relationship, until Ji Xiaoyu entered second year, when she fell into the trap of a trap loan due to a desire to buy things.

Sphinx: After the death of older sister Ji Xiaoqing, Ji Xiaoyu came clean to the police about owing money in a trap loan, and thus being harassed and threatened by Bedo Loan Company and Qian Yi multiple times.

Sphinx: At the beginning, she did not dare tell the police or her older sister out of fear of the company. Instead, she desperately worked to return the money, but the amount owed kept growing.

Sphinx: After, Bedo Loan Company faked a court verdict, forcibly seizing the real estate that the sisters’ parents had left behind.

Sphinx: Only then did Ji Xiaoyu’s older sister, Ji Xiaoqing, find out about the full truth.

Sphinx: Ever since then, Ji Xiaoqing became absentminded for a long time and even dropped her job.

Sphinx: The police performed an autopsy on Ji Xiaoqing and noticed that the alcohol concentration in her blood severely exceeded safety standards.

MC: So Ji Xiaoqing might have been using alcohol to forget her woes, then came to the mountain road while drunk and got into the car accident…

Sphinx: That was the police’s conclusion.

As Sphinx spoke, Xia Yan searched up the aftermath reports on this traffic accident case.

Due to issues with the surveillance equipment on that road, no information could be found on the vehicle that caused the accident. The police were currently still offering rewards for anyone who provided information.

And according to Qi Xiaoyu’s accusation, the police filed the case and investigated Qian Yi and Bedo Loan Company.

Bedo Loan Company was shut down for investigation, but due to insufficient evidence, Qian Yi was released after many days of fruitless police investigation.

Xia Yan: One week after Qian Yi’s release, he died unexpectedly due to cardiac arrest.

Sphinx: At the beginning the police suspected that this had to do with Ji Xiaoyu, because she was extremely furious due to the release of Qian Yu and lost control of her emotions.

Sphinx: Though the police investigated this after and found that this was not because of Ji Xiaoyu, I noticed a violation ticket related to Ji Xiaoyu.

Sphinx sent the violation ticket over.

Xia Yan: Illegal carrying of restricted blades… the date of the violation ticket is one day before Qian Yi’s death.

Sphinx: Indeed. I did a little investigating.

Sphinx: The police who gave Ji Xiaoyu the violation ticket was the one who dealt with her sister’s car accident. He sympathized with Ji Xiaoyu greatly and feared that she would take extremes.

Sphinx: So he always secretly kept an eye on Ji Xiaoyu. The day Ji Xiaoyu bought the restricted blade, he noticed.

Sphinx: As a police officer, he had to give Ji Xiaoyu a violation ticket, but he paid the penalty fine himself, and did his best to persuade Ji Xiaoyu after.

Sphinx: When Ji Xiaoyu was suspected of being related to Qian Yi’s death, this police officer testified for her, saying that Ji Xiaoyu did not have the time to commit the crime.

Xia Yan: Even if Ji Xiaoyu has nothing to do with Qian Yi’s death, if she was following him back then, she might have noticed clues.

MC: Then let’s go find Ji Xiaoyu to get an understanding of the situation.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 02

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: you guys have been so extremely sweet with this new work i don’t even know how to thank you!! thank you so so much for supporting my writing, it always makes my day. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was laying in her new room right stuck in between the guest and Gwen’s bedroom. It was a rather bleak room if she was being honest. The walls were all white in exception to one of them that like the entrance was covered in floor to ceiling windows. There was little to no furniture in exception for a king sized bed, a white chest of drawers and a wall embedded wardrobe where she had put most of her clothes already. 

She wondered why a man of such income would like to be surrounded by such bleak colours. From what she had noticed his whole place was decorated in shades of grey and black with the occasional beige and white. Sure, it looked lovely, sleek even, something worth of being in the cover of an architectural magazine, but it wasn’t a home. A home had warmth, lived in sheets, walls and floors, this house however was ... was ghosted, almost as if no one lived in it. 

Rolling onto the comfortable white sheets, she took the contract into her hands, looking at the lettering on the cover itself. Y/N fully understood why he wanted all his employees to have a binding legal document, what she didn’t expect was to see the first line constricted her breathing. “The individual agrees not to follow any legal action against the employer in any circumstance”, it read. This was definitely not what was she expecting. 

     - Y/N? - she shoved the contract under her sheets as Gwen’s voice sounded through the room, her head peaking through the opening of the door. - What are you up to?

    - Not much. How are you? Do you enjoy the new room? - Sebastian had put her in a different room from his, something she had expected but still found odd. They were to be married after all and despite it all being a business move and transaction, it was still a valid marriage. However, none of them seemed to eager to at least try and create some chemistry. 

    - Boring. I need a favour, though. Please and when you decide remember you’re my oldest and best friend since we were babies. - Y/N knew that face and she did not like it. It was the same face that got them both stranded in the Carribean because she just needed to get to know some guy from the opposite terminal before catching the plane. However, she also knew Gwen to be a great driving force of making her do things she didn’t exactly want to do, so she decided to nod her head yes, already overwhelmed with the move and the contract. - I need to head out for a few minutes, could you cover for me?

     - What ... where are you going? 

     - I have a date. - she cheekily entered the room, closing the door behind her after checking if someone was in the hall. The redhead sat in front of her, a childish grin on her face as if she were in high school going out with the captain of the football team. - And he’s really sweet.

     - Gwen, you’re engaged. - the big sapphire in her left hand’s third finger was all she could look at. Of course Y/N wanted to be happy for Gwen, she really did and she really shouldn’t put too much effort in the thought that she was going to get married, after all it was just a strategy, but her mind was screaming at her that it wasn’t right. - Don’t you wanna at least give it a go before you completely give up?

     - No, I wanna go out with Chuck. - she took her engagement ring off, placing it on Y/N’s white sheets. - Please cover for me, please.

     - What if Sebastian notices you’re gone?

    -  He won’t because you’ll cover for me, besides, he probably won’t even leave his office. Please, Y/N? - Y/N sighed. What was the use of saying no if she was gonna leave any other way? Besides, if she were right and Sebastian didn’t leave his office, it should be alright. Losing whatever piece of resolve she has in her, she let out a soft smile, nodding her head yes which led the redhead to hug her with a death like grip. - It’ll one be for a few hours. I owe you one.

     -  I’m pretty sure you’ve own me one since we were one. - Gwen let out a celebratory chuckle before grabbing her bag and leaving Y/N on her own once again. 

The whole house was constantly silent, almost as if all the employees were scared of making a sound which when it came to the demanding presence of their boss, she wondered if that was the case. The only disruption of silence that could be heard was the soft rain against the windows which was enough to lull her to sleep. She would’ve possibly remained asleep if it hadn’t been for a slight knock interrupting her slumber. She took her head off her pillow, confused as if she had slept for so long, Gwen had returned. Another knock made her get from the bed, sleep still in her eyes as she opened the door to come face to face with one of the dressed up employees. 

    - Miss Y/N, dinner is served.

    - Just Y/N please. 

    - I believe it would be more of Miss Forrest’s comfort if you were to inform her dinner is ready. 

    - Oh ... Miss Forrest ... she’s, she’s not feeling very well. 

    - Should we call a doctor?

    - No, it’s just ... you know, that time of the month. - Y/N had the most nervous smile on her face, but as the man heard that specific term, he scrunched his face for a few seconds before returning to his normal formal and stoic posture. Maybe she had gotten away with it. - I don’t think she’ll want any dinner.

    - Oh, alright, would you still like to have dinner, Miss Y/N? - he questioned. She was rather hungry, after all, all she had before coming in was dinner and after sleeping she always awake up feeling like snacking, therefore dinner sounded like a good idea. 

She followed the man into the kitchen that similarly to the rest of the house had the same simple yet modern design to it. The floors were in the same shade of marbled black with few specks of grey, the walls were white with a black wooden backsplash and one of them had the same full amount of windows which gave a beautiful view of the Upper East Side. There were various balconies connected to the walls but the biggest one was in the middle where some chairs were laid. 

Y/N watched as a woman, probably middle aged, set the table. Just like the man who had brought her to the kitchen, she was dressed in sleek, working clothes with her hair held in a perfect bun up-do. 

     - I hope you like goat cheese and bistro salad, m’am. - she set a beautifully prepared plate in front of Y/N as she took a seat in the table. - I can prepare you something if you don’t like it, m’am.

     - No, it’s beautiful, thank you so much. - yes, she was used to living in some sort of high fashion style due to the environment she had brought up with but this, this was different. This was expensive in all sorts, from how the employees dressed, to the way the food was presented. However, Y/N noticed that instead of being surrounded by other people eating like it would normally occur at her prior home, she was instead surrounded by staff watching her eat, no Sebastian in sight. - Is Mr. Stan not joining us for dinner?

     - Oh no, m’am, Mr. Stan eats in his office. - the woman replied. 

     - What about you guys? Don’t you wanna eat? 

     - It’s fine, m’am. We’ll eat after you finish. 

     - Alright ... - Y/N pushed her plate slightly away from her, turning on her chair so she could face the two staff who were now staring at her as if she were any sort of threat. - Where me and Miss Forrest were raised, staff is treated just as well as family members. I don’t know what orders you follow from Mr. Stan but when you deal with me or Miss Forrest, you sit down and have dinner with us if you wish. 

The dinner went a bit better after she gained some company. The staff was sweet, very professional still but sweet nevertheless. After dinner and fighting a bit with the woman named Anna so she could help with the dishes, Y/N decided to walk around the house. Gwen still hadn’t returned and despite her countless messages sent to her, they were seen but not replied to. Thankfully, Sebastian hadn’t left his office as promised which meant she only had to lie whenever any member of staff would ask if she needed something. 

The penthouse was pretty much a regular place with more rooms than she could ever imagine with some being locked and others being open and perfectly decorated yet seemed to be non inhabited. However, what had sparked her interest was the very last room she checked. The room’s wall except for one were filled with book shelves which were filled itself with endless amounts of books. She looked around, wondering if someone was spying on her, before entering the room, her hands grabbing the first book she saw. The Great Gatsby. It sorta made her chuckle how that had been the first book she caught, the story of a wealthy man who lives by himself. The book itself was in rather good condition with the traditional blue cover with those unsettling eyes staring right back at her. She opened the book, her eyes going to the date of print making her realise what she was holding. April, 1925. A first edition. 

      - Looking for a good read, Miss Y/N? - she dropped the book out of surprise, not expecting the voice. Her head snapped in the sound’s direction, watching as Sebastian walked over to her, slowly crutching down to grab the book from the ground.

       - Are these all yours? - this was the biggest self collection of books she’d ever seen, it was somewhat hard for her to wrap around her head it belonged to a single person, specially first editions. 

       - My father made sure I got an expensive education. 

       - Have you read all of these? - her eyes widen at the mere thought of it. Just reading one shelf of books looked like it would take at least five years, at beast. 

       - Not all of them ... some are in Greek. - he couldn’t help but be entranced by her as she lowered her head to hide the small smile that settled itself on her lips. - Are you one for reading?

       - I majored in English Literature, reading was all I did for three years. 

       - Fits. - he put his hands on the pockets of his formal trousers. - You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Miss Y/N? 

       - I wouldn’t think of it, Mr. Stan. - Y/N wasn’t one for lying unless necessary, specially to someone who had a reputation for ignoring empathy and other human emotions. 

       - Where’s my fiancée, Miss Y/N? - the mere question knocked the air away from her. - And please do not use the same excuse you used with my staff. I know everything that goes on in this house and I know for a fact she’s not in her room. 

       - I ... I don’t know. 

       - I think you need to figure out where your loyalty lies, Miss Y/N. - he picked her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. If there was something he knew was to intimidate someone with his gaze alone, however, she looked embarrassed to be caught in a lie rather than scared. - As my employee, you owe me your loyalty and the truth. 

     - My loyalty lies with Gwen ... not with you. - she took a step backwards. He sucked his teeth, arms crossed on his chest. - I don’t mean to disrespect you, Mr. Stan but ... Gwen’s my friend and my employee and I owe her my loyalty. 

     - You do realise that if Miss Forrest gets hurt it is you who’s gonna be held accountable. 

     - Please don’t be mad at Gwen. - she rubbed her arms. - She’s never really wanted to get married, at all, to no one. This is a bit of a change she has to adapt to.

     - Don’t flatter yourself, angel. Genevieve Forrest is not exactly the type of woman I’d personally chose to be with but I’m not being childish about it. If you wanna have a good time under my employment then you better reconsider telling me the truth.

taglist: @sideeffectsofyou​

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

All I want for Christmas is You

Summary: Donaka could ask for what he wants. Because he would get it. But sometimes breaking someone to get what he wants, is so much more fun.

Pairing: Donaka Mark x OFC (Sara Morgan)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: stalking (very questionable behavior, okay?) mentions of sextoys (if you need a warning for that)

A/N: I thought I should at least write one of the Christmas Challenge Prompts, so here is my creepy take on “All I want for Christmas is you”

Masterlist

Donaka didn’t make much out of christmas. It had been just like any other day his whole life. He didn’t get into the festive mood. Which could have to do with the fact that it was harder to pay people to like you on days like christmas when they wanted to be with their own families.

He never understood the urge of people to do something for their loved ones just to see them happy. That was until he saw her eyes on the first company christmas party a couple years ago for the first time. It had been her first year outside of the states and she had just started working for one of his employees. Sara Morgan. A beautiful and intelligent young woman who always had a smile on her face. She had been in charge of planning the christmas party and Donaka himself had to admit he felt like he’d been thrown into a snow globe back then. Every surface had been covered in snow. Everything was blinking.

He didn’t notice it at first. His need to know more about her. It started with reading in on her file. Then he hired a private investigator to find out everything about her. Like a miracle (he initiated) she slowly climbed up the positions in his company until just at the beginning of this very year she became his secretary.

That’s when Donaka made the decision. He wanted her. He wanted her for himself. He wanted to be the only one who saw that smile. That little smile when got a compliment. How she would blush and shake her head before she looked up with a soft smile.

It was around the beginning of december when his plan finally was set into motion. He saw the courier arrive at her desk just outside his office with a package. Donaka got up from his seat behind his desk to make his way to her.

Of course he could just have asked her out. Like people do. But Donaka wanted her to come to him. Something that would never happen cause Sara would never sleep with her boss. He knew how all the former managers had tried it. So Donaka made a plan. A plan that would end with Sara having no other choice but to come to him.

“Anything interesting Miss Morgan?” He asked as he walked to her desk.

“Uhm…” She was flustered, that he could tell. “Just the signed contracts we have been waiting for. I’ll get them to legal right away.” She said quickly.

“And that package?” He gestured towards the package.

“I… It’s addressed to me. I’m not sure…”

“You know we don’t allow personal deliveries around here.” He said.

“I.. I know. And I don’t know who sent it. It’s probably a mistake….”

“Only one way to find out.” He nodded towards her. She looked up at him, her beautiful green eyes pleading with him. When Donaka didn’t make a move to leave she sighed and began to open her package. He followed her every move with his eyes. The way she held the scissors to open the package. Her fingers as she grabbed the wrapped box inside.

“From your secret admirer.” She whispered reading the card and frowned before she carefully unwrapped the box. A little smile sneaked to her face.

“These are beautiful.” Sara took out the bouquet of blue roses, bringing them to her nose to smell them.

“Blue?” Donaka asked.

“It’s my favorite color.”

“Seems like someone knows you very well.” Donaka said, as he turned around to leave for his meeting, suppressing his grin.

It was on day four when things started to get a little weird for Sara. She was still wondering who sent the flowers when another package arrived the day after. Her favorite chocolates. She shared them with Donaka on their way out to a meeting she had to accompany him. He had asked her if she had an idea who it was that sends the gifts, but she had no idea. Deep inside she had hoped it was him. Donaka Mark was an impressive and handsome man. A man she would never have. But the thought of him being interested in someone like her made her wait for the next day with excitement.

On day three, after lunch she came back to a piece of her favorite cake and her favorite tea waiting for her on her desk. Thankfully Donaka was nowhere to be seen. As much as she enjoyed the gifts, getting them at work, for everyone to see seemed a little unprofessional. Even if she had the tiniest hope it was him who sent the fits.

When day four arrived and the mailman set a package down in front of her that contained her favorite perfume, things started to get a little weird. The gifts in the following days got more personal and she kissed the idea of her boss sending these gifts goodbye.

It was a week later when Donaka noticed a change in her behaviour. She seemed on edge. Of course he knew why. He started out with innocent stuff he sent to her, but two days ago there was a very revealing Victoria's secret set delivered to her. He had fun at the store, imagining her in all these sexy outfits. Though he prefers his women to be not wearing anything at all.

Yesterday something had been delivered to her home address. Photos of herself in her bedroom. He smiled to himself. Changing. His plan was in full action.

“Sara?” He said, making her jump as he got out of his office.

“Yes Sir?” She asked, her voice high.

“Is everything set for today’s christmas party?” He asked. Of course she was still in charge of everything christmas.

“Oh yes. If it’s okay I would like to head over to the restaurant in an hour to check if everything is in order.” She looked up. He noticed the circles around her eyes.

“Of course Sara. But…” He stepped closer. “Are you okay? You look like you didn’t sleep last night.” He asked concerned.

“I… Thank you for asking. It’s just been some busy days.” She forced a smile.

“You know you can talk to me if there’s anything bothering you, right?” Donaka said.

“Of course Sir.” Her smile didn’t look as forced as before.

“I mean it. And of course you can head off to the restaurant. I will be a little late today.”

“I’ll save a seat for you, Sir.” Sara whispered. Donaka winked at her before left.

Sara couldn’t shake the feeling off that she was being watched. She left the restaurant just in time to get ready at home before she got back again. She noticed that she hadn’t received a package yet. And she hoped it would stay this way. What started out as a nice distraction from a secret admirer slowly was becoming a case for the local police. She still hadn’t figured out how that person got the photos of her in her apartment.

She knew all she had to do was tell her boss who basically ruled the city, but she didn’t want Donaka to know. He had enough to deal with himself. The man worked around the clock. How he managed to look this good doing it, was a miracle to her. Of course she noticed how attractive he was. She wasn’t blind. But she also knew that she was at least 20 years younger and that he kind of seemed like he wasn’t interested in women. Or men for that matter. He either was asexuel or had a sex slave. At least that’s what her very wild imagination came up with. Smiling at the bartender she took a glass of champagne to calm her nerves. Her co-workers slowly arrived and soon her creepy secret santa was the last thing on her mind. Her former boss, Marcus was just about to tell another one of his stories, when she felt a hand on her shoulder making her jump.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Donaka said. Sara looked up, taking in her boss who was dressed in all black with a deep red tie.

“It’s okay, Sir. Glad you could make it.” She smiled a little shy before she looked away and talked to her colleagues. Donaka loved the dress she was wearing. Like a present ready to unwrap. She was wearing another perfume than usual. Her hair was styled in waves and on her left shoulder. She looked beautiful.

“How are you spending your holidays, Sir?” He heard her ask. He blinked, surprised that he had gotten lost in his thoughts so quickly.

“I work. Like every year.” Donaka answered.

“Not a big fan of christmas?” Sara asked.

“Never had anyone to celebrate it with.” He shrugged. He could read in her face that she had questions, but she knew better as to ask him personal questions in front of anyone. In the last months when she had stayed longer to work with him, he had answered a question or two about his personal life. Something he never did before.

“I’m gonna head out for a cigarette.” He squeezed her shoulder before he nodded at the people surrounding them and walked outside on the big patio.

He was just about to finish his cigarette when he heard the click of heels behind him. Turning around he saw Sara looking at him.

“All of this looks beautiful.” He said.

“Thank you Sir.” She smiled.

“Donaka please.” He added. Everytime he heard the word Sir leave her lips he felt his cock twitch.

“Donaka.” Her smile got wider. She slowly walked outside, admiring the city view as he finished his cigarette.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sara said after a while.

“Of course.”

“If… If you had the feeling that you were being watched… What would you do?” He turned his head towards her, seeing her suck in her bottom lip.

“I would ask my security to do a better job. Do you think someones watching you?” He asked concern in his voice. He stepped closer to her, making her tilt her head up so she could look at him.

“I’m… “ She shook her head. “No. Probably watched too many scary movies lately.” She closed her eyes.

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” Donaka said quietly, suppressing the urge to brush away the stray of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

“Of course.” She smiled. “Thank you Donaka.”

The party was in full motion when the secret santa gifts were given out. Sara sat next to Donaka the whole evening and they actually talked. About everything. She found out about his love for motorcycles and he learned that she always wanted to be a cook but ended up working this job because she didn’t have enough money to open her own restaurant.

Donaka opened his present and actually had to laugh at the blinking reindeer ears. It was probably the champagne but he put them on, much to the delight of his employees and Sara.

“Looks good. We should change the Christmas cards to pictures of you wearing these.”

“Careful Miss Morgan. I’m still your boss.” Donaka teased.

“Of course Sir.” She winked at him. Shaking her head she unwrapped her gift and he could see her hands shaking.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just…. Nevermind.” She shook her head. He looked at her face in the moment she opened the package. Of course he knew what was inside. It was risky, but he hoped that this would finally make her run into his arms.

He saw the forced smile on her face as she opened the lid, her hands still shaking. Sara didn’t want to open a present in front of her boss.

“Oh my god…” She whispered, seeing the pink vibrator and closing the box immediately. Shaking her head she set it down on the table before she practically fled outside. This couldn’t be happening. Sara ran outside, thankful that there weren’t any people around as she tried to get air into her lungs. She didn’t even realize Donaka was following her until she felt hands on her upper arms.

“Breathe with me. In…. and out….” He said looking at her. It took a couple minutes before she finally calmed down. Letting her head fall against his chest. Donaka carefully wrapped his arms around her until she was safe in his arms. Looking over her shoulder he guided them both out of sight.

“What happened there?” He whispered.

“I… These gifts I got the whole week. They were nice in the beginning but… a couple days ago I got lingerie. Very revealing lingerie. And yesterday…. Yesterday someone sent pictures to my home address of myself in my apartment and I have no idea who took them. Or who sent them. I thought I’d be safe today but…”

“I saw the gift you just got.” Donaka said.

She shook her head. Terrified.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Donaka asked.

“You’re my boss. You have more important stuff to take care of.” Sighing he leaned back, his hand tilting her chin up.

“I’d like to think we are friends, Sara.”

“You do?”

“Of course. And now tell me everything that happened, so I can take care of it.”

“You should have told me right away Sara. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m gonna let my security deal with it. And you’re not going home tonight. You can stay with me. Or in a hotel. I don’t want you going home until this is dealt with.”

“But… I can’t possibly…”

“I don’t accept any arguments. It’s with me or in a hotel with one of my bodyguards outside.” He said sternly. Sara looked at him. Donaka looked genuinely concerned. And she was genuinely scared to go home alone. Sighing, she finally nodded.

“I’ll go with you. It’s probably easier, your home is like fort knox.”

“Thank you.” He breathed out and allowed himself to kiss her forehead before he pulled her closer, his chin on top of her head.

A familiar song reached their ears “I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true. All I want for christmas is you…”

“I’ll keep you safe, Sara.” He said, thankful that Sara couldn’t see the smirk on his face.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #29 - The One Where Everyone Gets Super Shiny

Our issue opens up with Swerve laying down the Story So Far in the Exposition Dimension.

Fantastic, you funky little man.

If Swerve looks like he’s been tossed through the car wash a few dozen times, it’s because this is where our new colorist comes in! Everyone, please say hello to Joana Lafuente- known for her love of gradients and attention to light sources, this actually isn’t the first time we’ve run into her. Lafuente worked on colors for several issues of The Transformers (2009), Last Stand of the Wreckers #3, and a few issues of MTMTE Season 1. However, she was matching the styles of her co-colorists on a majority of these, so we haven’t seen her style properly until now.

Getting into the story proper, Cyclonus is busying himself with staring out the window at a PNG of space, as he is wont to do, when he hears the tell-tale sound of tires squealing down the hall towards his room. Oh, goodness, whoever could that be?

Nearly forgot about him, didn’t you? Yeah, it’s a little difficult to follow up on things like a character’s recovery from a horrific disease when you’ve got comic event contract obligations to deal with.

After getting tackled by Tailgate, who reminds us all about the time he stuck his dirty little fingers into a dude’s brain meat, Cyclonus takes the little nerd on a walk through the ship.

You’re not going to convince me to reread “Dark Cybertron”. I don’t care how much of a marshmallow you are, it’s not happening.

They’re passed by Megatron and a bunch of crew members carrying that coffin we saw at the end of last issue down the corridor, Tailgate has a moment, and we get a taste of Cyclonus’ distaste for the Autobots as a whole. Tailgate is mildly offended by this, as he gropes his chest in distain, showing off his shiny new Autobot badge- a gift for not dying a terrible, gruesome death.

Good job, Tailgate. Proud of you.

They’re also passed by an absolutely blitzed Jackpot and Mainframe, the former singing Tailgate’s Tyrest-stopping praises as the latter carts him over to the Medibay to deal with the almost alcohol poisoning he’s got going on. Cyclonus remarks that Tailgate was missed, though Tailgate can’t help but wonder if that’s really true.

Y’all like slowburn romance, right? Because these two dumbasses have been roommates for two years, and we’ve just gotten to the point where physical contact can happen without one of them needing to be dying.

Anyway, it’s been a good day for Tailgate so far. Let’s hope it stays that way for the little dude.

...And that’s a series wrap on Tailgate! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Hopping back in time to Megatron’s trial, things get underway, as Optimus Prime takes a nap in the judge’s bench as Gripper- whose name you don’t need to remember, as he’s not actually important- tells everyone about how brutal the Decepticon Justice Division is, even to Autobots. Which isn’t really supposed to be their deal, given their, y’know, name, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.

Up in the stands, in an… opera box, I guess? Rodimus is watching the proceedings, when Atomizer walks in. Which I guess you can just do in a Cybertronian court case. Sure.

Atomizer, in case you forgot, is the dude who has a bow and arrow, and used to be an interior designer.

Say, didn’t Whirl has a bow and arrow in the last issue when he attacked Megatron? Mighty curious, that.

Rodimus and Atomizer briefly reflect on the DJD, recalling the horror that was Vos- not that Vos, the other one. Rodimus would really just rather this all be over with so the Lost Light can get back to finding the Knights of Cybertron, and it’s at this point that Atomizer breaks out a thing he really ought not have- the count for the vote on whether or not Rodimus should stay on as captain. Rodimus doesn’t want to look at it, because it was supposed to be anonymous for a reason, and tells Atomizer to destroy the list entirely.

Hm, that’s not a terribly determined face there, Rodimus.

Back in the present, specifically in Swerve’s, Groove is threatening to break Streetwise’s arm, as we get the downlow on just what exactly our Legislator buddy’s deal is. Turn’s out, Swerve got one of the things reprogrammed, so that he follows not the Autobot Code, but something else entirely.

Hey, Swerve?

I don’t expect you to know this, because I don’t think you were present when they revealed this information to the readers, but… your new bouncer is made of people. He’s a dude made of other dudes, namely the Circle of Light. There’s a chance that you reprogrammed a sentient being, my good bitch.

Anyway, Swerve’s in a fucking mood because his shoulder hurts, someone’s stealing his shit, and Megatron has joined the narrative. Over at a nearby table, Skids, Nautica, and Riptide take a gander at the tabloids. Trailcutter, who is positively smashed, to the point where he’s just leaking booze out of his face like it’s his job, isn’t terribly interested in that, however.

What an astute observation, Riptide. And people say you’re stupid!

Trailcutter wants to drink some more, because it’s very likely he’s got a problem, but the mention of “Megatron’s super fuel” makes him feel like it’s time to stop hounding Swerve and start performing crimes.

Back during the trial, we get to Starscream’s testimony. He’s wearing his crown. He’s acting like a self-righteous asshole, as he defends Megatron.

Well, “defend” in the technical, legal sense, I suppose.

But really it’s more about him insulting Megatron’s intelligence, strength, and courage, in front of a LOT of people, while also trying to make himself look better in the war crime department. Megatron doesn’t appreciate this very much, if his murder-face is anything to go by.

Megatron lets Ultra Magnus (his defender, if you’ll recall) know that he wants a private word, and court goes into a brief recess.

Back in the present, Nightbeat’s busy looking at a pin-up of Rung’s alt-mode, when someone knocks on his door. That someone is Chromedome, who’s trying to solve the mystery of The Missing Declaration of Love. Not that he says that specifically out loud.

You two were married, why- okay. No point in yelling at this digital copy of a comic book.

Anyway.

So, the whole screaming thing only happened the one time, and everything was back to normal on subsequent plays of Rewind’s message. Nightbeat seems to be leaning towards the depressive isolating getting to Chromedome, which Chromedome responds to by telling him to get the fuck out. Alas, someone’s blocking the door!

YO WHAT THE FUCK-

Back with Trailcutter’s subplot, our drunken friend is in the middle of breaking into the Medibay. Our trio of cool-colored pals watch him from back at the bar, by way of a laptop that looks like it was built the same year I was born.

As Trailcutter attempts to commit a crime, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet pass by, trying to figure out how to handle the whole coffin situation. Trailcutter’s about to punch the locks off a door, and Nautica decides that this is where she’s going to draw the line today, leaving the gaggle of fools to their shenanigans. Then Tailgate glomps Skids, throwing the computer to the ground and breaking it, as Trailcutter finds the door to the Medibay magically open.

If you don’t know what glomping is, there’s a 60% chance that you’re not old enough to vote in the US.

Trailcutter sneaks into the Medibay, we get a reminder that Ambulon is super dead, and Trailcutter commits theft from a food bank. What a guy.

This is the point where security shows up, armed with a great deal of guns, one of which is Megatron himself. Trailcutter, instead of feeling super powerful, actually feels positively awful after consuming Megatron’s rations of “super fuel”. Because he, as an Autobot, doesn’t want to be within 50 yards of Megatron, Trailcutter breaks out the forcefields the moment the guy approaches him. And oh, what a doozy this one is.

Trailcutter’s gotten himself a fancy new trick- this forcefield he’s broken out lasts for a solid half-hour, and he can’t turn it off. I’m sure that won’t bite him in the ass at any point in the near future, no-siree!

Back in the past, Rattrap is commending Starscream on playing the field and getting the public slightly more on his side, but Starscream’s too busy patting himself on the back to really pay attention. He knew damn well that Megatron wouldn’t like what he had to say on the stand, and now things are finally looking up for ol’ Screamer.

Over with Optimus Prime, Slamdance is showing off how the general public is really into this whole “folks being held accountable for their actions” thing.

In the present, Chromedome and Nightbeat seem to have remembered they have alt-modes and are driving down the hall back to Nightbeat’s room- wonder what the speed limit for the Lost Light is?- and discuss just what the hell happened. The current theory is that the Rewind they saw was a Data Ghost- a collection of information so dense, it had a not-quite-physical presence that wasn’t 100% removed when he died.

Which is a little fucked up, but let’s see where this goes.

Nightbeat undoes the 40,000 locks on his door while Chromedome bleeds guilt all over the shag carpet over the fact that he hasn’t been looking for Dominus Ambus like he said he would.

C’mon James, gimme that Chromedominus endgame.

Nightbeat finally opens the door to find a small problem.

Hm. That’s… not normal.

Over in the Medibay, Trailcutter’s bubble has burst, allowing Megatron to slap him in the back of the head. This head-slapping induces his FIM chip permanently, making it so that he can never get drunk again.

Weird party trick, Megatron. Kinda shitty, really.

Megatron then gives Trailcutter the job of director of security, because he needs direction in his life. Trailcutter just sort of takes what he’s given, because I suppose you can’t really argue with a guy who can literally slap you sober, and also threatens to destroy you if you fuck up even once. Nice, Megs. Nice.

MEGATRON THAT’S BEEN SITTING LIKE THAT FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR YOU FUCKING WET NOODLE

So, since there’s mystery juice all over the floor and no one’s died, Megatron assumes that the coffin ought to be fine to crack open.

Please note that Megatron is not a medical professional, and his views are now peer reviewed by medical professionals. Megatron is in no way endorsed by the WHO.

Anyway, Rodimus is in there.

Pretty fucked up.

Back in the past, recess is over, and Ultra Magnus comes bearing bad news- Megatron wants to change his plea to “innocent.” This gets about the reaction one would expect from just about anyone.

Well, except Rodimus, who’s too busy reading that list that he wanted destroyed. He’s very sad about it.

I know, what a bummer!