#i would life for simon in a nose piercing

[caramelpenguin]

He had been thinking about it for two years and considering it for one, staring into mirrors, turning his stance sideways to envision it. A small gem on his nose.  Linda, after being assured that Simon was doing it of his own choice and nobody else’s, was supportive. Maddison squealed and immediately searched up places and available times. Rosh talked about logistics and how long it would take to heal, Ayub said he’d come along if Simon wanted him too.  He hasn’t told Wille. He’s not planning to. Two months later, he books an appointment at a piercing place in Bjärstad . Money would’ve been an issue, but he was working during the summer and Wille would’ve happily paid if he knew, yet Simon knows this is something he has to do, wants to do with the money he has earned himself. He is going to be the person to choose how his body looks. . . . Ayub cackles as soon as the white gem nestles on his nose. “Simme, the sound you made when the needle went through-you actually squeaked-” and he dissolves into more laughter as Simon scowls, taking a few deep breaths.  “Knew I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” “I’ve been a great sense of moral support.” He’s about to respond when his phone buzzes. Rosh Picture picture picture Ayub takes the most horrific selfie after they’ve left the shop. Simon’s piercing is raw and red and his eyes are wide and, worst of all, he can’t laugh because his nose will hurt.

[cod-dump]

Piercings

———

Soap: *staring at Price*

Price, while writing something: Something on your mind, Johnny?

Soap: The mark on your brow… did you have a piercing?

Price: Hm? I did, actually

Soap: You had a brow piercing? No way-

Price: Had my nose pierced, too. And my ears… and a few other places

Soap: … you’re lying

Ghost, walking into the room: Is who lying?

Soap: Price says he used to have a lot of piercings!

Ghost: Oh- Nah, not old man John

Price, glaring: I’m five years older than you, Simon

Ghost: Keyword ‘older’

Soap: Do you have pictures?

Price: Eh… somewhere… maybe back home…

Soap & Ghost: *intense staring*

Price: … I’ll have a look

(one month later)

Soap, busting into Gaz’s office: KYLE HOLY SHIT

Gaz: *yelps and spills his tea*

Ghost: *shoves past Soap and slams several pictures onto the desk*

Ghost: LOOK

Gaz: Wha- OH MY GOD

*Several of the pictures are of a younger Price. One showing him with a pierced brow, ears, septum, and with his tongue sticking out showing it was also pierced. The most recent photo had Price with his ears still pierced, one sporting a industrial*

Gaz: WOW

Soap: SINCE WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN???

Ghost: I feel so conflicted WHY DOES THIS LOOK GOOD??

Gaz: WHY WOULD YOU CURSE THIS UPON ME? THIS IS ALL I’M EVER GONNA THINK ABOUT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

Soap: WHAT ELSE DID HE HAVE PIERCED?

Gaz & Ghost: AHHHHHHHH-

(with Price)

Price: I have a feeling I’m going to regret giving them those photos…

Nik: What photos?

Price: Gave the boys photos of when I still had all those piercings

Nik: … John, those were FOR ME ONLY-

[multifandomimagin3s]

Them as Dads - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Fluff, hints of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon's childhood was, to say the least, horrific.

No child should have had to experience when he went through.

Those experiences have stuck with him all his days, emotions buried deep down to a point where he doesn't feel them anymore.

There's a distinct divide between Ghost and Simon - and since he's considered legally dead, he has no reason to drop his mask anymore.

Needless to say, when he found out he was going to be a Dad, he short-circuited.

Didn't even say a word, and just left.

Of course he felt guilty for it, and he knew that what he did was wrong, but he needed to think.

The last time he had even been around a child was his little nephew...

And that tragic part of his past truly was the final nail in the coffin for him.

He was terrified of being like his own Father.

He did eventually come back but for the duration of the pregnancy, a cocktail of emotions swirled in his stomach.

The day he held his child for the first time, he was stunned.

This tiny little human, with their little button nose and - his eyes.

He grew angry - angry at his Father, and by extension the World.

How could anyone bring something so small, so fragile, so perfect any harm?

Needless to say, he's a very protective Father.

If any of the Team were to meet the baby, he probably wouldn't even let any of his comrades hold them.

Maybe Johnny - but that's at a push, and he'd be hovering around him the whole time like a shadow.

He'd be soft for his child - but he'd try to be the strict parent, teaching them to be ready for whatever the world may throw their way.

If he had a daughter, would let her paint his nails - would sit there still as a statue, watching with soft eyes at how her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

Speaking of, regardless of the child's gender - boyfriends / girlfriends / significant others would absolutely be interrogated before they even step a foot through the door.

"Who the fuck are you?" "You're 16?? Cunt, you look 30!"

It would essentially be like that scene from Bad Boys 2 - Soap would definitely be Will Smith in that scenario, accepting no criticism~

Would try to be there for every life event and would feel a deep seated guilt if he couldn't because he'd been deployed.

Overall, from day one, he'd made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let history repeat itself - he'd give his child everything he ever wanted growing up and more.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

I can see him as a chill Dad.

He wouldn't let his child get away with murder, but he would be good cop 99% of the time.

Would absolutely spoil them rotten - they would have to so much as look at something they liked and he'd get it for them.

It would be his Mother that would have to try and get him to reign in the spending a bit.

Also carries the baby around in one of those baby carriers across his chest.

I think he has a big, close-knit family so the child would have a ball playing with all their cousins of mixed ages.

If he had a son, definitely tries to style his baby hairs into a little mohawk with gel.

Lets his kids express themselves however they want.

They want to dye their hair? He's driving them to the shops to get the supplies.

They want a piercing? As long as they're old enough, he's fine with it - and if they want him to go with them for moral support, he's already in the car.

I think the only think he'd be awkward about would be periods.

He'd try to be helpful...but he's not great at handling it.

C/N: Dad, I got my period.

Johnny: Oh - OH! Okay, that's - that's fine...ehh...do you...do you know what to do with it...or?

I can also see him just running into a shop in an absolute panic - asking the store clerk for assistance because he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

Returns home with three massive bags of supplies.

He'd be supportive with whatever they wanted to do in life - if they wanted to go to University, he'd help them with their application; if they wanted to get a job, he'd be helping them look for vacancies, driving them to their interviews; if they wanted to join the military however...he'd be reluctant, but he would never discourage them for pursing anything.

The only thing he'd have an issue with...is if his daughter got a boyfriend.

He'd not be as...hostile as Ghost, but the silent threat is always lingering in the air.

If anyone ever hurt his child, he can switch from fun-loving Johnny to Sergeant in the blink of an eye.

Captain John Price

That child has this man wrapped around their finger from day one.

Would give them the world if he could.

Would never smoke his cigars anywhere in the vicinity of them, and would hide them out of reach - especially during the curious toddler stage.

I can see him cutting up their grapes into smaller pieces, paranoid that they'd choke otherwise.

Has dozens of photos of them wearing his hat - even got them a toddler version of his own because they liked it so much.

Doesn't matter how old they are, they're still that little smiling baby in his eyes.

So needless to say, he's very protective.

Doesn't threaten potential partners - he doesn't need to, he's a Captain in the military, so nobody would be so stupid as to try and hurt his child.

Only brings the child on base when he knows that only people he can trust are there - ie. the 141 taskforce.

Follows the toddler as they waddle around, waving happily as they pass people - Soap ends up joining the little adventure since the little one took his hand and he didn't have the heart to let go.

Speaking of, despite not being given the official title, Soap becomes Uncle Soap the moment he claps eyes on Price's child.

Gaz too - he sent Price the photos he took of them wearing his sunglasses, a beaming smile on their face.

It came as a shock to everyone when they saw the child approach Ghost.

It even shocked Ghost when the child made eye contact with him - and didn't cry. Instead, they smiled, tugging on the leg of his trousers to be picked up. And, even more surprisingly, he did.

Price never has to worry about keeping his child safe - because god help whoever tried to hurt them when they have 4 highly trained SAS soldiers coming for them.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He’d be one of those young, cool Dads.

Buys himself and the little one matching shoes.

Also matching outfits are the thing, especially during the toddler stage.

His kid would be the drippiest kid in the playground.

FaceTimes and calls home whenever he can when he’s deployed, seeing their little smiley face just makes his day so much brighter.

When he’s home he’s more than happy to spent chill days just watching cartoons with them on the couch, making pillow forts - he probably enjoys it more than the kid to be honest.

I reckon he’d struggle to actually parent the child, and would rather be their best friend than an authoritarian figure - ironic, considering he’s a Sergeant.

So it would probably be up to the child’s Mother to reign him in when he’s being a bit too soft or blasé.

Helps his kid build the best Minecraft house.

Loves being able to bring the child on base, showing them off to the Team.

Price secretly loves having the little one around, and they’re often found chilling together in his office.

Would absolutely spoil them - whether it be new toys, sweets or anything they wanted, he’d get it for them without a doubt.

Uncle Soap once spiked up the little one’s hair to match his own mohawk - Gaz wasn’t mad about it at all, and thought it actually looked cool as fuck.

If he had a daughter he would definitely sit down and learn how to do little braids in her hair.

Would also let her put little clips and bows in his hair, painting his nails to match.

He’d just be so soft for his child.

König

When the child was little, Konig was absolutely terrified that he would end up accidentally hurting them.

They were so small, barely even taller that his knee when he was standing, and all he could think about was what if he accidentally stood on their little foot or walked into them without noticing.

So, most of the time, he carried them around.

Would read books to them at bedtime, teaching them German and English to the best of his ability.

I don't think he'd wear his hood around them often, preferring his child to see his face rather than two eyes surrounded by black cloth.

Was genuinely surprised when they didn't cry after seeing him with it on; their little hand touched the cloth before breaking out into a sunny grin, "Dada!"

He probably cried a little bit after that.

He didn't have the greatest time growing up - so I think if his child ever got bullied, he would struggle to compose himself.

In his eyes, his child was perfect, so for anyone to go and make them feel bad about themselves - or worse yet, make them cry, it makes him see red.

Doesn't go and threaten the child - he'd not cruel. But the sight of a giant, masked man looming over all the other parents at school pick-up is more than enough to put the fear into anyone who had been picking on his kid.

Would probably teach them how to fight and defend themselves from a young age - he wouldn't always be around, due to deployment, so it gave him some peace of mind knowing that they would be able to defend themselves.

[darth-mortem]

Here is my another one fix-it COD fanfic translated by @g8se.

ATTENTION: This fic contains COD MW3 spoilers.

After Johnny's death, Simon loses his desire to live. Having avenged Makarov, he leaves the army but doesn't know where to go. It's then that Captain Price shows him the way. A long journey leads Simon to a remote island where he rediscovers the purpose of his life. 3455 words.

Post-canon, fix-it, angst, fluff, Ghost/Soap, love

I advise you to turn on this and this music while reading.

Simon stood at the deck of the ferry, leaning on the railing with his elbows, watching as ahead, through the dense morning fog hovering over the strait, emerged the outlines of his final destination - the isle of Islay. The cold wind stirred the waves, crashing against the ferry's blunt steel nose, seeping through clothing, making tears well in his eyes and leaving a salty taste on his lips. Seagulls circled above the ferry, their desperate, piercing cries making his heart squeeze in an indescribable yearning.

Simon smoked, with the edge of his ever-present balaclava lifted over his nose. He hadn't approved of this foolish habit before, but had picked it up after Johnny's death. At first, cigarettes disgusted him, but eventually he got hooked. The bitter smoke filling his lungs triggered memories of times when he could still feel happiness, when he could feel something other than the dull, oppressive pain that had now become his constant companion.

You can read on Ao3 or here:

The outlines of the island became clearer. The wind blew the fog away, the white-capped waves repeatedly clashed against the ferry's sides. Simon felt a kinship with the ever-restless sea, as now, just like the sea, he will never find peace while his tormented heart is still beating. After finishing his cigarette, he tossed the stub overboard and immediately fetched another from the pack. He had no plan, no aim, nothing except the enigmatic words of Captain Price, spoken during their, probably, last encounter.

...”I'm leaving,” Lieutenant Riley said, placing his resignation report on the captain's table.

Price took it, silently glanced over the papers, then raised his head to see Ghost, standing still and staring blankly somewhere past him.

It was over. Vengeance had been achieved; Makarov and all his henchmen were dead. Yet, it brought Simon no solace. He was utterly hollow, dead inside, and he no longer wanted nor could continue his service because he saw no sense in it.

“Where will you go?” Price asked, puffing on his cigar.

“I don't know,” Simon replied indifferently, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then allow me to give you a piece of advice,” the captain nodded towards the chair, and the lieutenant obediently sat down, putting his hands on his knees. “Head to Scotland. There's an island, Islay. Go there, to a small village on the coast, Port Ellen. There's a little pub right on the beach called 'Slice of Peace.' Find it, but don't rush. Observe before entering. Perhaps there, at last, you'll find peace for your soul. At least, that's what I would truly wish for.”...

The ferry arrived to Port Askaig right on schedule, but Simon didn't linger there. Port Ellen was situated almost on the other side of the island, about nineteen miles away. This distance could be covered by car in about forty minutes, but Simon didn't have a car. He had practically nothing except a small backpack with his belongings. Without much appetite, he ate a sandwich at the gas station, then left Port Askaig and, without any hurry, began walking along the road toward Port Ellen. Nineteen miles is a considerable distance for an average person, but not for a retired lieutenant. He understood that the journey would take him five to six hours, but that didn't daunt him. He was capable of walking without stopping for much longer if necessary, and right now, it was more necessary than ever.

About two hours into his journey, near Bridgend Woods, a farmer picked Simon up in a small truck. The truck bed was filled with sheep, and the driver was heading to Laggan Farm, but he offered to drop this strange, silent man in a balaclava off almost at Glendale. The good-natured and compassionate farmer could see that his passenger was consumed by profound sorrow, so he didn't pry into anything. As they bid farewell, he left his address and phone number, offering a visit if Mr. Riley needed a place to stay. Simon thanked him, but as soon as the truck disappeared from sight, he crumpled the piece of paper with the address and threw it away before continuing his way to Port Ellen.

Arriving at Port Ellen, Simon did as Captain Price had instructed him. Not because the retired lieutenant wanted to fulfil his commander's final order, no. Just on his first evening in Port Ellen, upon finding the pub mentioned, Simon saw Johnny there. He was as beautifully fit as ever but had let his hair grow a bit; now he had to tie back his mohawk to keep it from getting in the way when he’s working. John no longer wore military uniform or heavy gear. He was wearing jeans, a high-necked knitted sweater, and a bartender's apron with large pockets. The tattoo he got in the SAS were no longer on his hand, but he had visible scars on his temples.

For nearly a week Simon observed him from early morning until late at night. He didn't stay in the local hotel or anywhere else, spending the cold nights in the docks or in someone's unlocked barn. Simon watched and listened, and after a few days, he knew that John MacTavish had showed up around a year ago with a strange story of awakening in a hospital with no memories of his past life, but with documents and a certain sum of money in his account. After treatment and rehabilitation in Glasgow, MacTavish moved to the Isle of Islay, bought a small house on the coast. He opened a pub on the ground floor and arranged his dwelling on the first floor. Being a Scot, John was eventually accepted into the local community after a couple of months.

Of course, Simon Riley wasn't credulous. He observed and noted any matching characteristic - gestures, expressions, words, and body language that resembled Johnny's usual mannerisms. The retired lieutenant watched how MacTavish worked, solved work-related issues, and interacted with his pub's customers.

Simon really wanted to believe that this man was indeed Johnny. His Johnny, the one who once restored his ability to feel joy, happiness, love; his Johnny, with whom it was easy to work and spend leisure time; his Johnny, who managed to see beyond Ghost in his skull-faced mask, not just a soldier, a killing machine, but a human being. Injured, scarred, broken, but nonetheless - a human being. Simon Riley.

The final straw of these observations was an incident that occurred one evening at one of the tables by the pub, standing right on the sandy shore. John, as always, smiling, full of energy and life, brought four pints of beer to some grey-bearded fishermen. One of them was in the middle of telling a joke, and the cheerful pub owner naturally stopped to listen and laugh along with them.

“ Hey, John, how aboot sharin' a joke wi' us?” one of the fishermen asked, tipping his beer.

“Why no’?” MacTavish's lips lit up with his dazzling smile. “Well, for example... dae ye know what haes two legs an’ bleeds?”

“Mebe it's Lars whan he stabbed himsel' wi' the fishin' huke straicht in...” one of the fishermen started, but another one, the infamous Lars, jabbed him in the side with his fist.

“ Or mebbe it's yer wife on certain days o' the month?” he exclaimed in offense.

“Easy, lads,” the eldest among them thumped the table with his fist and looked at MacTavish. “Sae, whit's the craic, John?”

“Half a dog!” cheerfully replied the man and chuckled, but quickly fell silent, noticing no one echoed his response.

“That's a braw odd joke,” Lars said, shaking his head. “Whaur did ye hear that, John?”

“I... I don't know,” MacTavish said, bewildered, raising his hands. “Maybe it's somethin' from my past life that I don't remember.”

“Maybe it's fer the best tha ye dinnae remember,” the eldest fisherman shook his head. “ It's chilblaining tae picture how it wis wi these jokes.”

That evening, Simon quietly entered the empty pub just before closing. The bell above the door announced his arrival, and John peeked out from the kitchen - no longer wearing his apron, with his hair down, surprise in his remarkably bright blue eyes.

“We're ‘bout to close, sir,” he started, but then suddenly fell silent, catching the look of unspeakably sad brown eyes surrounded by long and blonde lashes. “But, ye know what? Come on in! Ye're not a local, right? Yer lookin' like ye seriously need to doon a few glasses o’ whiskey. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Simon hesitantly approached the bar counter and added, “I’d kill for some whiskey.”

Most of the lights in the room were already off, but the lamps over the bar were still lit, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise as he peered under the hood at the stranger with the skull-printed balaclava.

“What's the getup, sir?” he asked and cheerfully, amiably smiled. “Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite,” Simon replied automatically, and they both suddenly froze, looking at each other.

“I'm sorry,” John finally spoke, slowly pouring two glasses of whiskey; he placed one in front of the peculiar visitor and took the other one. “Have we met before? What's your name, sir?”

“Simon,” he replied, and in his hollow dead eyes, for perhaps the first time in a year, flickered faint sparks of hope. “Simon Riley.”

John looked curiously at the late visitor's face as he lifted the edge of his balaclava to take a sip of whiskey but averted his gaze upon realizing his curiosity was noticed. Swirling the glass in his hand, he took a sip and quietly asked:

“Ye're military, Simon Riley?”

“Retired,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “Why do you think so?”

“I don't know,” John said, puzzled, and gave a shy smile, “it was just the first thing that came to mind.”

They sat in the dimly lit pub till the late hours of the night. Simon saw that Johnny was at ease in his company, feeling a sense of trust, although a person who didn’t remember anything from his past life would typically cast suspicion on the stranger in the skull mask. Eventually, the bottle was emptied. The pub owner poured the last drops of whiskey into their glasses and looked at Simon with a tinge of regret.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked, wanting to prolong the parting in every possible way.

“Nowhere, really,” Simon shrugged and let out a quiet yet deeply mournful sigh.

“Ye know,” Johnny spoke slowly, “ye might think I'm mad, but I have a comfortable sofa at home.”

“You're very kind, but I have no money at all,” Simon shook his head and smiled bitterly. “I can only hope what little I have left will cover paying you for this bottle.”

“Oh, no, leave tha’!” John protested, even his hair stood on end. “Ye've been great company, tae be honest, I havenae had a conversation like this with anyone for a long time... not like with you. So, I'm repeatin’ my offer, and as for the money... I wouldnae mind a hand in the pub. What do ye say?”

And Simon agreed.

Over the next few weeks, the retired lieutenant was learning how to live a civilian life. He quickly adapted to his new responsibilities and managed not only to assist John in the pub but also took care of him - preparing breakfast and coffee, tidying the house, buying groceries from local stores. However, Simon did all of this automatically, almost without thinking. The most important thing was that he was once again close to Johnny. Yes, the latter didn't remember him at all, but they spent a lot of time together, discussing everything under the sun. The only thing the retired lieutenant refused to talk about was his military service. However, John didn't insist. He saw the terrible scars on Simon's neck and face when he lifted the edge of his balaclava, perfectly understanding why he didn't want to talk about it.

One misty, cold morning before the pub opened, Simon and Johnny stood on the beach, smoking, watching the restless sea. Somewhere in the sky, seagulls circled, and their cries remained piercing and desperate, but they no longer held power over Simon Riley's soul. Johnny had just leaned against him, and Simon, in a familiar gesture, put his arm around his shoulders, shielding him from the gusts of cold wind that pierced to the bone, leaving a salty taste of the sea on their lips.

“Simon,” the retired lieutenant heard a quiet, bewildered voice and turned his head towards it, looking closely at Johnny, “We've met before, haven't we?”

Riley looked down, took a drag from his cigarette, and remained silent for almost a minute before replying:

“Yes.”

“I've thought so,” Johnny's voice held no anger or offense. “Ye knew what I liked for breakfast, what coffee I drink, which cigarettes I smoke. Ye knew I like my whiskey neat. Ye knew... a lo’ of things that I didn't notice right away.”

Simon fell silent, looking out to the sea once more. Johnny slowly rested his head on Simon's shoulder and felt his fingers rake through his mohawk, tousled by the wind. Raising his hand, MacTavish slowly touched the scar on his temple and spoke again.

“Was I military too?” He asked. “Did we serve together? Were we friends?”

Simon remained silent. The wind snatched the cigarette butt from his fingers, but he remained absolutely still, stare fixed straight ahead, and seemingly not even blinking. John lifted his head from Simon's shoulder, took a step forward to face him, and held his shoulders. His other hand rested on Simon's chest. Simon finally lowered his gaze, looking into MacTavish's eyes.

“Will ye be surprised if I tell ye I seem tae have fallen for you?” John said. “Tis madness ‘cause I've only known ye for a few weeks, but... I'm drawn to ye. From our very first meeting when ye walked into my pub. That's why I’ve invited ye over, not because I pure needed an assistant. Please, Simon, tell me something!”

“Let's go inside,” Simon finally spoke and very gently, carefully touched John's cheek with his fingers.

The pub should have opened by now, but at this hour there never were any customers, so MacTavish didn't change the sign “Closed” to “Open.” They sat at the bar facing each other, just as on that first night when Simon finally mustered the courage to enter. Johnny poured them a whiskey each, carefully and unsurely covering Simon's hand, laying on the counter, with his.

The retired lieutenant gulped down his drink and then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out two photographs. In one of them was Johnny in his uniform and gear, with a rifle in hand and his ever-present smile. It was his last photo taken before that fateful day when, as Simon thought, Johnny was killed. The second photo was a group shot, displaying all members of Task Force 141. Gaz and Soap were smiling, the captain looked stern, and Ghost, as always, was in the background wearing his skull mask. Johnny stared at these photos for a long, intense moment before looking back at Simon.

“I never stopped loving you, Johnny,” he said quietly. “I was with you when you were shot in the head. I held you and saw the life fade from your eyes. I don't know anything about how you survived, where you were treated, or what happened to you after that day. I remained in service only as long as it took to find your killer and seek revenge. Then, when I brought the captain the report of my discharge, he told me how to find you. He didn't give any specifics, and I came here not knowing what to expect.”

“Why didn't ye tell me this straight away?” Johnny asked, gently stroking Simon's arm.

“You were so happy, not remembering the past,” Riley replied in the same quiet tone, wrapping his wrist around Johnny's fingers. “I didn't have the courage to tell you about our service. About everything we had to go through. About how that scumbag shot you in the stomach and head while you were trying to protect our captain.”

“But that's not all that happened,” MacTavish shook his head and looked into Simon's eyes again. “There was us, not just comrades-in-arms or friends, right?”

“Yes,” nodded the retired lieutenant. “Not just that.”

Johnny lowered his gaze back to the photographs, trying to comprehend that the tough guy in the bulletproof vest covered in gear was himself; trying to recall the features of the other two fighters. That one in the hat with fancy sideburns was probably Captain Price. The name of the young and cheerful black guy in the cap was not mentioned by Simon, but they were probably friends with Johnny at some point. MacTavish frowned, trying to remember something, trying to find even the smallest breadcrumbs of memories that could lead him to the rest of them, but... In vain.

Doctors told him that with such brain damage, especially in the frontal lobe, memory loss was the least of all possible consequences. They said that MacTavish was lucky to remain functional and mentally stable. Memories might eventually return, but it was more likely that they wouldn't. Johnny accepted all of this. He had started a new life and believed he was completely happy until a mysterious stranger in a skull-print balaclava appeared on the threshold of his pub.

“I can't remember,” Johnny finally said, sadly looking at Simon. “Those people in the photo... We were probably close, bu’ I don't remember. All I can say is that even without remembering ye, I've fallen in love with ye again. And I don't want ye to sleep on the couch or go somewhere... I don't know, where your home is?”

“My home is where you are,” Simon replied, lifting Johnny's hand and lightly kissing his knuckles. “So if you still need an assistant...”

“Actually, I need more of a partner,” Johnny said, openly and warmly smiling at the man he didn't remember but loved with all his heart.

Simon spent several more weeks delving into the intricacies of managing the pub - learning how to plan and manage purchases, make cocktails, froth milk, cook simple dishes from the menu, work the till, and more. The pub closed on Mondays, and on those days, they would head out to the sea on Johnny's boat - they would fish or just circle around the island. Simon no longer slept on the couch or was a guest in MacTavish's house; he became its rightful owner. Johnny felt completely happy, falling asleep in his strong and warm embrace, resting his head comfortably on his chest.

Simon was happy too. It was evident how he gradually became less reserved, started to communicate more with the pub's customers, and increasingly more wore his balaclava raised to his nose. This allowed a glimpse that the retired lieutenant began to smile, doing so more and more often.

On a cold morning when the first snowfall covered the island with a white blanket, Simon and Johnny stood on the beach, smoking, watching the restless sea. Wrapped in a single blanket over their shoulders, they embraced each other, their lips displaying serene and happy smiles.

“I wanted to propose to you,” Simon broke the silence, stating this as casually as if it were something utterly inconsequential.

Johnny coughed, choking on cigarette smoke, and looked at him in astonishment.

“Yes, I wanted to,” Simon confirmed, continuing to gaze at the sea. “I even bought a ring for you, but... I never dared to. I thought we would have more time. When you, as I thought then, passed away, I left the ring on your grave. The cemetery worker who found it was probably happy; it was quite expensive.”

“Simon,” Johnny started, but Simon shook his head, turned to him, and, discarding the cigarette, covered his lips with his fingers.

“I can't afford to buy you the ring you deserve,” continued the retired lieutenant. “But maybe you'll agree to this?”

He pulled a ring from the inner pocket of his jacket—not golden or silver, but clearly antique, finely crafted. Johnny raised his hand, and Simon put the ring on his finger. He then kissed Johnny, lowering his head, and the piercing salty wind no longer had power over them because their hearts burned with a fire hotter than the epicentre of a nuclear explosion.

“I still couldn't remember anything,” Johnny said as they returned to the pub and prepared for opening. “You must be sad because of it.”

Simon looked at him, then pulled off his balaclava, smiled openly and sincerely, and replied:

“Quite the opposite.”

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi cuties, i'll leave this here for your entertainment.

A little fic i've written just for fun, i don't even know if i'm gonna make it longer or leave it as a one-shot experiment.

Hope you enjoy!

And hope my english is not a mess too

DISCLAIMERS: ReaderxGhost, smut (not so much, but we have masturbation and a little bit of anal fingering, dunno if you may like, but really it's just a hint), dirty talking, chocolate for breakfast, little bit of moans, dom, gym rat character (yes i can't live without weights).

..............................................................................................................................

I believe Simon is that kinda man who starts with the rough way, being the "bad policeman".

At first he doesn't trust you.

Obviously.

You get acquainted, begin to talk more often, share moments together: he drinks his coffee for breakfast, complaining about the lack of tea at the base, while you spend twenty minutes backing your cocoa oatmeal with chocolate on top. He glares at you like you're some sort of stupid child, but eventually he helps you reach the top shelf where someone put your goddamn honey (white sugar is for the weak), since you're a gnome.

And the two of you start to talk. Well, at first you exchange brief comments and monosyllabic answers.

Than some curiosities escape through your lips: about what the hell are you doing at the base (you've appeared from nowhere all of a sudden), why you've chosen the military life (since you really do look like a little happy garden gnome); why he's wearing the scariest of the mask you've ever seen (he won't answer to this, though); why you and Jhonny keep on exchanging slaps on the butt (someone have lost a bet).

The day he'd spotted you make your kinda breakfast for Gaz too (he's got a sweet tooth), you'd ended up baking for the entire task force. And your chocolate get right to their hearts.

He keeps on looking at you with curiosity. Sometimes he thinks you're a little bit…dumb. He thinks it a lot: when you try to open the door with your elbow since you've got fresh nail polish and don't wanna ruin it (in a goddamn military base); when you daydream about where would you like to do a piercing, spending every pause from work looking at pinterest references. When he finds you eating breakfast at 5 am, or laying everywhere on the ground under the sun (he asked you about it, and you answered that you were doing photosynthesis). He does think you live in your magical world made of unicorns and chocolate.

Then he sees you at the gym, deadlifting a goddamn truck, pushing hell with your chest which seemed so little to him, carrying weights that the other rookies could only dream about.

You end every training drained from every bit of energy, doing whatever you have to even if some mornings you'd rather jump from an airplane; and every training finishes with a big smile toward your Lt., which seems so proud of you, a little gnome made out of bricks and chocolate.

He starts to trust you. You've never fought together on a mission, but he begins to look at you as a reliable human being. At least none of his comrades had died 'cause of your breakfast yet, you've never missed a meet, you finish your duties every day. 

The other guys from task force 141 seem to like you like some sort of stray kitten suddenly jumped at the base, treating you like a little one even if you're almost thirty. But it doesn't seem to annoy you, and your weird friendship with Soap and Gaz ends up doing "photosynthesis" together in the little garden spot under Price's office window.

Everything is cool, everything is nice…till something goes wrong.

And there you are, one particularly lonely night, in the precise month period in which you could fuck a light pole (thanking your incoming menstruations), with hormones filling you like a pie and almost dripping from your nose. 

There you are, closing your eyes, lying on the bed with your legs spread, thinking about whatever helps you finish your "necessary duty" as soon as fuck.

There you are, touching you like crazy, rubbing that poor clit of yours just to try gain some peace of mind.

You're usually silent: neither a breath nor a moan. But this time…this time it's too strong, you're too needy, your brain is melting under the pleasure and the smallest, tiniest whine escapes through your lips. 

<Was everything good last night?>

The next morning starts with this question, a large cup of coffee (you've slept like shit), your oatmeal and Ghost's eyes looking at you silently, inquiring, unreadable.

He waits for an answer, and your eyelid glitch.

Fuck

And you know he heard. 'Cause you know, there's no need to ask. 

<No> 

You surprise even yourself by being so honest. You're ready to make something up, even if he doesn't need to know why you weren't good. 

But he stay silent.

And you bury your face in the oatmeal.

The entire day was spent submerged in documents and bureaucracy, so gym had to be done after dinner. You don't feel at ease: even in your oversize jumpsuit it seems that every seam is made just to collide with your sensitive spot, that's still hurting from yesterday night. 

You go straight to the lat machine, charging all of the weight you can, trying to distract your fucked up brain. 

You do the first set: it's hard, but you can handle it.

You do the second: at the third rep, you barely manage to bring the weight midway to you. Your back is pulling at its limits, your eyes are squeezed, lungs are burning with the lack of oxygen…and, at your limit, you open your eyes, looking at the mirror in front of you.

Error 404

The reflection of Ghost, incredibly showing his arms muscles in a t-shirt which you've never thought could fit his wardrobe, hit you like a truck. It's not just the arms: it's the veins and tattoos, biceps and strength, it's whatever you'd like to bite and you know you'd let his hands smack your body like a pillow.

All of a sudden.

Just 'cause you do like big muscles.

Or just 'cause you're craving to be touched like a clown fish craves his fucking anemone.

Your arms get weak for one goddamn second: you lose the grip on the weight, and a terribly audible, almost hissed moan runs through the gym.

You bite your lips immediately. That moment will be remembered as one of the shittiest times in your life, and you're wondering if it's better pretending to be dead on the seat, or running away with nonchalance…when your back bumps into something.

You raise your eyes, and he's crouched behind you.

Thank god you're alone.

Thank god you're behaving better than last night.

Thank god you're still sitting on the lat machine, since you wouldn't be able to stand.

<Are you doing it on purpose?>

You shake your head, not daring to speak. You don't know what could get out of your mouth. 

His hands have reached your sweatpants in a blink of an eye, rough enough that you thought you had to say goodbye to the elastic band; he's slipped under your panties, making some sort of low groan as he feels on his gloves how wet you are.

And now he's sailing in your cunt in every direction, making you tremble like an idiot clinged on the machine.

<There's no use in being so fucking silent now. You should've think about it earlier>

He takes his hand off your panties, and for good measure he slaps on your pussy so hard you know it will grow a bruise.

You're swallowing hot air, letting your shoulders bump in small movements as your breath is scattered, fast, hissed through your teeth.

And his already wet hand reaches your mouth, stuffing it with your juices, pressing on your tongue and sliding so deep inside that your throat starts to twitch. Mouth gets wet, filling with saliva, and you desperately try to not choke with his fingers still inside.

But he's got other plans; and leaning so close to your ear that you can feel the texture of his mask, he orders:

<don't you dare swallow, sweetheart>

And you stay still. 

Because you're an idiot? Maybe. A masochist? You've never thought so, but apparently yes.

You stay still while your body jerks by himself on the seat, trying to concentrate on your heavy nose breathing. Saliva drools over your chin in sticky, wet wires, and he collects them on his thumb, pulling them back on your mouth.

<Good girl, so effective in following orders>

You don't even dare looking at the mirror in front of you. Your pussy is a lake, so wet your ass could slip on the panties.

He knows.

And the other hand of him suddenly runs again under your underwear, pressing where the sun doesn't shine, sliding one finger in that hole in such a fast motion that you can't help but cry.

It hurts

It does, but the mixture of pain and arousal is confusing you. Your brain is not working, eyes start to get wet and mouth is choked by your saliva and his fingers, and everything smells like cunt's juices.

He pushes his finger deeper, and you know he's looking at your face through the mirror, dear god. 

His mask brushes again on your ear, on your cheek.

<You're gonna take everything, aren't you? You're tightening your ass pussy around my fingers, cumming on me like the good kitty you are, mucking up my gloves with your stinky juices»

There's nothing really right: the hole isn't the right one, the place isn't the right one, his tone and his attitude are colliding so badly with the picture of him you've got in your mind. 

But somehow you're managing to not question things.

You just can't. You're fried, burned, a little knot of dirty mess and moans choked in your guts and dripping in wetness, all tied in his grip, in his harsh voice, in his rough fingers that are digging everywhere but where you're desperately needy.

And you can't take anymore of it.

It's like hearing yourself from outside when you speak, every words trembled and choked in your saliva that's totally overflowed on your chin:

<please…i…need…>

Your brain doesn't allow you to finish the sentence, and Ghost chuckles on this last spark of dignity you have.

<Speak up kitty> 

He lets another finger slide inside your ass, pushing roughly to make space.

<I can't hear you>

His fingers get out of your mouth, just to spank your pussy again, making you finally break a loud moan.

He grips your throat in his hands, squeezing till he feels every ring of your windpipe under his fingertips.

Then he lets go.

He releases your body all of a sudden, leaving you empty and throbbing, wet and still needy, almost choked by your own saliva. 

And he seems…satisfied, somehow. Satisfied just by your only, lonely moan, wringed out of you with so much diligence.

You, his noisy little mess.

..............................................................................................................................

[femalefemur]

I Would Rip My Teeth Out For You

warnings: blood, some violence, please tell me if i missed anything!

synopsis: soap is hopelessly in love and would do anything if it meant simon never had to suffer again.

It starts when Soap pushes Ghost out of the way of a bullet, well it’s more like he barges into the man and uses the force of his momentum to shift Ghost. The result is Johnny with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and being scolded by Ghost as the man’s fingers work to extract the bullet while they sit at the small table in the safe house. Ghost’s fingers are covered in blood as he digs out the bullet with a pair of long nosed tweezers and Johnny can’t help but admire them. He admires how Ghost’s fingers glisten from the blood in the dimly lit kitchen, staining Ghost’s skin like a promise, he admires how his blood seeps in under Ghost’s nails and starts to dry under there, taking up space in the small crevices of his life. Ghost rips the bullet out of him and tosses it on the table before stitching him up, the needle piercing just slightly too deep into his skin and Johnny knows he’ll have perfectly imperfect scars from them, scars that he’ll treasure until his last breath. He watches as Ghost finishes the last stitch before getting up to wash his hands and Johnny watches as the remnants of his silent promise wash away down the drain in a red swirl. Johnny keeps the bullet from that night, he places it on his half empty bookshelf, a single bullet taking up the whole row but saying more than all the words in the books combined could ever say.

The next time is when the whole team is out at a pub for drinks, it’s not their usual pub as it’s closed for much needed renovations, so they’re here at this slightly more modern pub that’s buzzing with patrons. Simon and Johnny are walking up to the bar when Simon accidentally bumps into a man’s shoulder, causing him to spill his drink over himself and the already sticky floor. This results in some less than savoury words from the man who is drunk enough to try and fight Simon, despite Simon being more than twice his size and much more than twice his strength, but when the man throws a punch it’s not Simon he hits but instead his fist collides with Johnny’s jaw. Johnny laughs the punch off, too weak for it to have hurt him, and pats the man on his shoulder, telling him to close his fist more next time before pushing him out of the pub. He walks back to their table with two pints, setting one down in front of Simon and feeling the man’s eyes piercing into him just as much as the needle had when he stitched him up. Johnny just smiles at him and nudges his shoulder, telling him to be more careful of where he’s walking next time and calling him a big bastard that doesn’t realise his own size. When Johnny gets back home he puts a coaster from the pub up next to the bullet.

The third time is when they’re on base, there’s a small kitchenette in the communal area, big enough to make tea, coffee and microwave something when they’re in a hurry or too lazy to make it to the mess hall for a proper meal. It’s 4am and Simon is boiling water for tea, still half asleep and hoping that the tea will help wake him enough that he doesn’t fall asleep in the mission briefing. Johnny wanders in, already wide awake somehow and raring to go, the kettle starts to boil and he leans against the counter in the small space as he watches Simon reach up to the cupboard for a mug. Before Simon can even fully register what’s happening, Johnny is pushing him out of the way and Simon watches in horror as the mugs tumble out of the cupboard and onto Johnny. There’s shattered porcelain everywhere, like a deadly puzzle that can never be pieced together again and Johnny’s blood slowly drips onto the floor in between the shards, as if trying to glue them back together despite the fact. Simon scolds him again, calling him reckless and an idiot as they sweep up the broken pieces and throw them out before Johnny is forced to sit on a chair as Simon cleans out the various cuts and scrapes. Thankfully none of them are deep and he should be fine to go on the mission later in the day. A week later there’s a shard of broken porcelain on the shelf next to the bullet and coaster. 

It’s a few weeks after that, when he’s back on base and gearing up with Simon that the man turns to him, reaches out and tightens the strap on his vest as he looks at him. He lets out a small huff beneath the mask before telling Johnny that he better not do anything stupid this time, that he can’t just keep getting hurt in place of Simon. Johnny stares at him for a moment before he’s grinning and shaking his head, a small laugh leaving his mouth as he puts his knife in its sheath and looks Simon in the eyes “I would rip out my teeth for you.”

[respiteresponse]

dream needs to wear an emo collar choker asap. clawing at the walls thinking about it

my tierlist for scenemo items dream should wear:

F Tier: skinny jeans. HEAR ME OUT. his wide leg mall goth nu metal dragging on the floor catching under the heel of his shoe slay just fits him so well and as much as i would love to see his legs encapsulated by splitting fringing black denim i think his giant jeans are a statement and make him extra moe. he should wear more ripped and black jeans though ! ! !

D Tier: beanies and snapbacks. he already rocks the cat dreanies near daily and with the mask coming into the picture and everything being so joever for us hair appreciators, as sexy as he is with his beanies on and his curls peaking out me personally i just love when his whole ice cream scoop hair is on display ! can be improved with some rainbow cheetah print hair extensions and or a tiara : ) !

C Tier: off the hip belts, preferably studded. this is one of my most favorite and hottest things a person can do with their outfit ESP if theyre scenemo leaning but its not essential to make the scenemo kid style shine through. i can even accept some more normie type stuff like bb simons so long as its styled appropriately ! ! ! a want but not a need.

B Tier: tight fitted tees/band tees. droobs tastefully hidden behind an edgy stretched and distorted logo for pierce the veil or sleeping with sirens most likely purchased at hot topic 10 years ago, snatched waist on display for the whole world to admire and for george to grab WITH the added bonus that short sleeve shirts have a tendency to rise up due to their fit, so we could realistically even expect a glimpse of tummy and or boxers peaking out which only enhances the visuals on display. and his ARMS. preferably covers and curated by bracelets exclusively bought from spencers or gifted by fans if not by an either complimentary or uncomplimentary long sleeve/hoodie underneath.

A tier: eyeliner. a well understood and universally accepted staple in the scenemo community. and really the more the better ! ! a tasteful swipe of black pencil drug store eyeliner on the waterline of dreams bottom lids could only improve upon his looks as a 6'2" boy with glossy doe eyes and pink lips . but then you add to it, upper waterline to match the bottom, expand unto the skin of the eyelids, perhaps even try a wing if were feeling daring ! in an exceptionally crazy occasion we could go full raccoon, black from tail end of his eyebrow down to the start of where the crease of his bottom lid lies. he could eat jeffree stars ex scene queen ass up in about 0.5 nano seconds with that and some fake lashes, but thats just me ! irregardless, something so casual as a little makeup can go a long way in making someone hot 100x hotter 😋

S Tier: facial piercings. the possibilities here are quite literally endless. we start simple with nose, a ring through the nostril is a classic, super simple everyone is doing it, could have one of those and pass for someone who doesnt know jack shit about i set my friends on fire or dot dot curve, but then you go a little lower and things start to get fun. with a lip piercing, you can basically signal to any and everyone that youre an edgy kind of guy, not just anyone will put a needle through one of the most prominent and noticeable features of their face! dolphin bites, snake bites, shark bites, spider bites, literally any animal biting your lips will up your status as a queen of the scene. bonus points for a monroe or a tongue piercing, xxxxxtra hot imo😁 moving back up bridge is also a good option, particularly edgy and tough to find on anyone in day to day life, would give dream some uniqueness as if he was already in any need of that. eyebrow is always a safe option, anti eyebrow, tear drop etc all very very cool. but the most ultimate piercingf for dream in my opinion would be a simple yet head turning cheek piercing. a common factor to be found in most all of my scenemo dream drawings, it simply seems like it makes obvious sense for the guy whos whole branding is smiles to have piercings wear his dimples are ! ! when he smiles, the sun will not only catch on his astoundingly straight white teeth, but also on that of the jelwery adorning where his dimples lie.

GOD TIER:

[athalantan]

BASICS.

NAME: Elminster "El" Aumar ALIAS(ES): Elmara; Eladar; Wanlorn; Gochall; Minstrel; El'Minster; Terminsel; Elgorn; Farwalker TITLE(S): Herald of Mystra; Sword of Mystra; Chosen; Master Harper; Elf-friend; Last Prince of Athalantar; The Mighty; The Wise; The Crafty; Armathor of Myth Drannor; Court Mage of Galadorna; The One Who Walks; Old Spellhurler; The Old Mage; The Old Sage; The Sage of Shadowdale; The Great Oversorcerer; Doombringer of Mystra; Weavemaster; The Harper APPELLATION(S): The Terrible; The Doomed; The Meddler of Mystra; Accursed One; Cursed One; The Great Foe MISCELLANEOUS: Old Weirdbeard; Uncle Weirdbeird; Beard Man RACE: Human CLASS(ES): Archmage; Wizard; Rogue; Cleric; Fighter PATRON DEITY: Mystra BIRTHDAY: Mirtul 30, 212 DR BIRTHPLACE: Heldon, Athalantar GENDER: Genderfluid (uses all pronouns) ORIENTATION: Panromantic pansexual

FAMILY.

GRANDPARENTS: Uthgrael Aumar, the Stag King (grandfather); Syndrel Hornweather, Queen of the Hunt (grandmother) PARENTS: Elthryn Aumar (father); Amrythale Goldsheaf (mother) UNCLE(S): Belaur; Elthaun; Cauln; Othglas; Felodar; Nrymm CHILD(REN): Susprina Arkenneld (adopted daughter); Storm Silverhand (adopted daughter); Dove Falconhand (adopted daughter); Laeral Silverhand (adopted daughter); Haedrak Rhindaun III aka Lhaeo (adopted son); Narnra Shalace (daughter); Laspeera Inthré (daughter); many others DESCENDANT(S): Filfaeril Obarskyr (great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter); Amarune Whitewave (great-great-granddaughter); at least one unnamed great-great-grandson; Simon Aumar (great-great-great-grandson); many others

PERSONALITY.

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good MBTI: ENFJ (Protagonist) ENNEAGRAM: 5w6 (Problem-Solver) TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic FLAME: Cloud

APPEARANCE.

FACE: Rectangular with a distinctive hawk nose and crooked grin HAIR: Once a rich black, now white as stars; typically worn in long locs, often with a long beard to match EYES: Gray blue, at once both piercing and gentle SKIN: Warm, dark umber that's known much adventure SCAR(S): Detailed here HEIGHT: 6' BUILD: Wiry in their youth, now erring on scrawny; much stronger than they appear FACECLAIM(S): Steve Toussaint; Viola Davis

BIOGRAPHY.

El has lived an absurdly long life with an unbelievable amount of adventures, and they're still kicking. It's more than I care to condense into a bio, frankly. Thus I'll be giving an overview of their earliest years. Further details can be found in the timeline.

ELMINSTER WAS BORN IN THE small country village of Heldon, Athalantar. Their early days were spent peacefully, tending sheep and learning at their parents' feet. Then it was lost in a blaze of dragonfire. They were twelve years old when the Warring Princes of Athalantar sought out their hidden brother, El's father, to lay low him and all his issue. From then on, El was forced to make their way as an outlaw and a thief — or else be slaughtered by their uncle and the mages puppeteering him.

Seven years past before they could hide no longer. They entered Mystra's temple intending to burn it down, but left under Her divine guidance. There was nothing El hated more than mages and their goddess, but he couldn't thwart them by learning spells more powerful. First they were a cleric. Then they were a wizard. Then they were the face of a revolution. They rallied their allies and drove the tyrant and his mages from the land. However, El chose not to take the throne in the end. They wisely abdicated to Helm Stoneblade. Then they left, never to return, lest his reign be destabilized by their presence.

This was not an end for Elminster, merely a greater beginning. They'd hardly made it out of the capital of Hastarl before Mystra offered them a divine blessing — and divine burden. If El willed it, they would become Mystra's Chosen to serve Her will and further the Art across Toril. They accepted. They have thus outlived their natural lifespan by over a millennium, and have suffered grief and torments beyond any other. Still, they persist. Their greatest comfort lays in helping others; so long as they can be a force for good, they are satisfied.

[crxssmyhxart]

[CISFEMALE, SHE/HER]. Hey, is that SIMONE ASHLEY, no that is just  NICOLE SUNITHA around Turtle Bay. I heard they are 30 years old, and their birthday is NOVEMBER 27TH, 1992. They rest their heads in the MIDTOWN but they can mainly be found working as a LAWYER. Some say they are INTELLIGENT, HARDWORKING, CARING and can be OPINIONATED, SARCASTIC, STUBBORN. If they had a theme song it would be, WHERE YOU ARE by LIFEHOUSE. I hear they are a NEWCOMER, either way Turtle Bay is home and welcomes you!

BASICS:

full name: Nicole Sunitha

nicknames: Nikki

age: 30

dob: November 27, 1992

hometown: Columbia, South Carolina

current location: Turtle Bay, South Carolina

neighborhood: Midtown

occupation: Lawyer

gender: Female

pronouns: She/Her

sexuality: Straight

relationship status: Single

Positive Traits: Intelligent, Hardworking, caring

Negative Traits: Opinionated, sarcastic, stubborn

theme song: Where You Are- Lifehouse

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

face claim: Simone Ashley

hair color: Black

eye color: Brown

height: 5'9 ft

weight: 120 lbs

build: Slender

tattoos: None

piercings: Ears and nose

FAMILY:

mother: Irya Sunitha

father: Kanish Sunitha

siblings: Trisha, 35

children: Olivia, 10

pet(s): None

BIOGRAPHY:

Nicole grew up in a traditional South Indian family with her older sister, Trisha. Growing up there were certain things expected of her and her sister and she was never one to rebel, always doing as she was told. Her family wasn't very physical when it came to expressing their love and affection but Nicole never once questioned if her family loved her.

Her sister graduated and went to Princeton, but despite the fact that her grades were good enough for her to follow her sister, Nicole decided to stay fairly close to home and attend the University of North Carolina. It was there that she met Zach and her whole life changed.

It was her sophomore year in one of her criminal law classes when they met. He was a senior, charming, attractive and smart. Nicole was immediately enraptured, even if she did hear the sounds of her mother encouraging her to find a nice Indian boy in the back of her mind. They dated happily until his graduation, when they both decided that the distance would be too much and they broke up.

A few weeks after graduation, Nicole found out she was pregnant and reached out to Zach. She was devastated by his response, or lack there of. While they had bonded over the pressure that their families had placed on them, she didn't see how he could abandon her and their child just to live up to his fathers expectations.

Her parents stepped up in ways that Nicole could have never expected, helping to take care of her and babysitting Olivia so that she was able to transfer to University of South Carolina in her hometown to not only graduate but get her law degree.

Over the years, Zach would decide that he wanted to try and be a real father and would come out just long enough to charm Nicole and Olivia into thinking maybe this time it would be different, but it never was. That was, until a few months ago when they had a huge argument after Zach tried to tell her it was too hard. That Olivia was asking him questions he couldn't answer. But Nicole refused to accept that and has moved to Turtle Bay to see what the legacy was that Zach couldn't give up. Olivia is in Columbia with her parents, but as soon as she is settled, she plans on moving their daughter to town.

[bleachedjuice]

'Adrenaline high' pt 10.

Warnings:foul language and slight nsfw

Hey everyone ! I hope you're all doing OK! And good and swell in this time for the holidays :) sadly this chapter will be the ending chapter for this bitter sweet story BUT DONT FRET THERE IS A KONIG X MALE READER THAT WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW OR CHRISTMAS 👀

Also, if you have any requests for little one-shot stories and such as just dm me or pop a comment on any post of mine and I'll see it.

Anyhow, enjoy this last chapter of this little spice of life :)

Simon stirred away in the sunlight, streaming down onto both your still figures, your bare backside pressed elegantly tightly against his bare chest as you slumbered,taking in the heat of the larger man who watched your sleep peacefully. He then felt his hand shift from your side down to your hips and began to gently slide his hand up and down your side,as if he was forcing himself to remember your touch against his, how your sides dipped and how your curves felt and how the daring mountains of ribs that where moving from every breath you drew mightly moved beneath his touch.

He cooed at you and watched it silence as he felt at peace..but not just at peace.. alive. He felt utterly alive and steady with you right now. And he didn't want to let that feeling go. Not now,not ever.

And he watched as you stirred,grumbling with a whine as you peered over your shoulder at him and broke a light grin at him and shot a quick, 'morning' to him as you rolled onto your other side to face him, and he found his hand placing it self onto your waist and pulling you closer to him, watching you envelope yourself into his warmth. And he spoke, with such a rough morning voice that it stirred you to fumble your morning demeanor and scramble to refind it. "Well, good morning to you too"

And that's when you looked up to see his supirsed and smirked expression on his face, and then it dawned upon you....the sudden realization that he wasn't wearing his mask... and you took in the sight of his face, your mind memorizing a million times over in the short span of such a few seconds. The way his growing out blonde buzz cuts tight curls matched him perfectly in a way... the sigh of his eyes...piercing blue and utterly memorizing you..and his nose..that looked to be defiantly broken a good few times over seemed to be perfect to you... he was perfect to you ..and that's when your gaze found its way to the scar on his thin,pinkish, chapped, and rough lips.. it traveled from the base of his left jaw with his face stubble, and it traveled up through a part of his lef side of the lips revealing part of his gums and teet,especially the canine teeth of his..and it utterly amazed you and looked...utterly beautiful on him.

"Your beautiful..."

The words left your mouth and left you stunned at what you said as your heart stopped before restarting in spasms as you realized what you had just said... and you watched as his gaze went wide before it softened as he replied to your voice.. "God's I love you." His voice cracked as he spoke..like he was afraid of saying that aloud..like he was afraid of even putting it out there to anyone..to you...

And then that single phrase made you think..and then you mouth opened and a single phrase that came out of your mouth made you want to slam your head into a wall.

"What are we?" It was fast,sudden..nervous.. afraid perhaps of what Simon would say?

All you knew is that He smirked and replied with such a crooked smirk that it made you shiver Beneath his gaze as his brows quirked up.

"Well..what do YOU want us to be hm?"

Fuck.

You then thought before beginning a mindless ramble to yourself in your mind before you suddenly spoke, quickly, as if you where afraid of the ability to speak to leave you before you two had stopped talking.

"Well,let's see, we both fucked,we're cuddling,we've saved eachother a million times. You make me nervous,I can feel your hard on rubbing against me, and we're in YOUR bed.. so..what does that make us Simon?"

"Well..thats makes you my Boy yes?"

My boy..

His..

Your his...

And him yours...

You then nodded and snuggled closer to Simon's body and breath with him,listening to his steady heartbeat with the comfortable silence surrounding you two.

As of right now, you weren't just two humans.. hell, you two weren't just "The Hound" and "Ghost"..you two were just, "Y/n" and "Simon"

Two humans just trying to find where they belong.

And you belong with him. And he belongs with you. Together, and you had found a high better than any drug, him. He made you feel.. safe, perhaps? And you..you made him feel alive, secure.

Both of you had found your own Adrenaline High amongst each other, each both making the other alive and moving...

And well... you both knew that the journey from here on out..

As you both laid in eachothers arms,both drifting back to sleep smiling...

That this was going to be one hell of a ride....

I hope you all enjoyed this small, lengthy ride of a journey as much as I have with this story, and don't fret! Like I said, there is one with Konig and you coming soon enough! Possibly in two days,and requests are always open :)

But thank you all that enjoyed this story and are going to look and find it it in the future. :) until tomorrow everyone.

[theblondesimmer]

𝗦𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲 - 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 / 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 @plumbaleena

Simone has always had a strong and bold personality. Both of her parents were prominent lawyers, so they believed in maintaining law and order. Simone’s parents prioritized education, so she was sent to prestigious private schools her whole life. Simone hated the preppy uniforms she was required to wear, so she slowly started to customize them with a grungy twist. She added a choker here and a flannel wrapped around her waist there. Her differing style made her stand out among her peers, making her feel self-conscious. During these times of self doubt, she turned to her best friend and eventual partner, Valin. She is forever thankful for his reassurance that being yourself is always the best way to live your life. 🧬Traits - Romantic / Self-assured / Insider

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[mykneeshurt]

Haunted pt 3

This hasn’t been proof read sorrehhhh. I’m so tired from work I cba. I have no idea how troops get about so just go along with it haha. I also haven’t played the new game yet, just the 2009 one. Enjoy!

Mainly fluff! No smut … yet.

Part 4

Swinging the door open, cheeks flushed from … what ever that was, Gaz was stood there. ‘Sorry Doc, Lieutenant. Price wants us in the living room.’ His eyes darted between the two of you, curious, even he could feel the suffocating tension in the room. Nodding you smiled politely ‘sure Gaz, be there now in a minute.’ You could feel Ghosts fiery glare cut through you.

Gaz walked down the corridor to the living room, leaving you and Ghost alone once again. Turning to face him, your cheeks were still a rosey shade of pink. You glanced up at him whilst twiddling your fingers together, feeling all of a sudden shy. Which isn’t like you. His gaze softened as you looked at him, but he didn’t say a word. He walked past you but as he did he gently grazed your wrist with his gloved hand. His footsteps disappeared into the room where Price was waiting for you.

Running to the sink you splashed your face with water, trying desperately to ground yourself. Staring at your reflection in the mirror you glossed your fingers over your hair and ear that he touched mere minutes ago. Biting your lip at the memory of his touch. You let out a deep sigh, if only Gaz hadn’t have interrupted.

Walking into the living room Price was stood by the fire place, Soap and Ghost on the sofa and Gaz in the arm chair. He soon stood up and offered you the seat, pinching his cheek you flashed your doe eyes ‘thank you Gaz, such a gent. Unlike those two.’ You flashed your eyes to the sofa offering them both a smirk. Soap pouted ‘I am a gent.’ Rolling your eyes you smiled ‘yes love, of course you are.’

‘Settle down’ Price began, ‘now Doc are you alright after yesterday kid?’ Shifting slightly in the chair you unconsciously reached for your nose which was a brilliant shade of black, blue and purple. ‘Never better. Still feeling nauseous but I’m good.’

‘Glad to hear it’ he continued ‘so, we were able to get the device we needed. We’ve got intel that there’s a back up device located in one of the other drug complexes.’ You stood up and reached into your pocket ‘not quite accurate sir’ you said confidently as you produced the USB device. Placing it gently on the table you felt all their eyes drift from you to the USB. Soap let out a slow whistle ‘get tae fuck? Damn doc.’

Glancing over at Ghost you found he was already looking at you. Of course. You nibbled on your thumb nail, preparing for the bombardment of questions about to come your way. While you explained what happened Ghost felt an immense send of pride. He watched you intently as you told them how you managed to snag the device after killing the guy who assaulted you. He watched how you used your hands to tell the story, how your face became so animated, you sultry voice rang in his ears. And most of all he imagined what it would be like to nip at your thumb with his own teeth. How it would feel in his mouth, what you would taste like.

‘Simon? Oh!’ Soaps thick voice pierced the void he was in bringing him back to the present. Shaking his head he looked around to see you were all looking at him. ‘Simon the laptop?’ Price ordered. His eyes slightly widened, embarrassment creeping in realising he’d been caught with his kind else’s where. You of course had noticed this. Ghost pulled the laptop from one of the cases and put it on the table and loaded up the USB. It sprang to life, lists upon lists of planned transactions, shipments and locations. ‘Next drop is in 2 weeks in Saratov. Makarov is down as the receiver.’

Makarov, one of the most influential terrorists, this entire mission was about trying to find his location. Which you managed to provide, you grinned to yourself, pride swelling in your chest. Price slapped your shoulder ‘nice job kid! Knew it was the right call to send you. Need to go let Laswell know. Start packing up we’ll be getting the next plane to Russia.’ Gaz and Soap also congratulated you ‘not just a pretty face’ Soap laughed. You pushed his good shoulder smirking ‘fuck off Soap.’

The next few hours were spent packing up the safe house and loading everything into the Jeep. You packed your med kit before taking it out to the jeep where the boys were waiting for you. ‘Don’t tell me I’m in the middle of tweedle dumb and tweedle Dee’ you said staring at the back middle seat. Ghost was already sat in the back, Gaz and Price up front. ‘Awa a bile yer heid’ Soap retorted pushing you into the jeep. Laughing you took your spot in the middle as Soap climbed in behind you.

Your shoulder sat tightly against Ghosts, you could feel every crevice of his toned biceps. You thigh pressed against his huge thick thighs which took up 3/4 of the seat. Ghost could feel himself becoming tense, feeling unsure of how he was going to cope with the 3 hour ride to the base. Soap slammed the door and you were well and truly squashed between them. ‘Enough room?’ Soap said through his smirk. Turning your head to face him you looked at his injured shoulder, ‘careful John. Would be a shame if something was to knock that shoulder of yours.’ Gaz let out a laugh in the front seat ‘you’re fucked now Soap, she used your first name.’

The jeep roared to life as Price took to the deserted roads, he honestly must have felt like a single father taking his kids on holiday. You watched as the afternoon slowly turned to evening, the sky was a glorious burnt orange colour. The deserted roads were void of all life, the jungle just kissing the side of the tarmac. Still fighting a concussion you could felt sleepy, knowing they’d wake you when you arrived you shuffled down int he seat and leant your head back. You would have lent on Soaps shoulder but he was still in pain, and Ghost, well it’s Ghost. Not a huge fan of people touching him and you didn’t want to add to the obvious uncomfortable feeling he was experiencing being pressed so close against you.

Sleep eventually took you, albeit not in the most comfortable of positions but you managed an hour or two. Soap shook you awake once you got to the base airport. Price’s gruff voice broke the silence ‘We’ll be here for the night, plane lands at 05:00 tomorrow. Get fed and rested up.’ All grunting in agreement you filed out of the jeep, stretching your cramped limbs. ‘God I need a shower’ you huffed, after being in a hot jeep between two burly men you needed to cool off. ‘Want me to help you doc?’ Soap offered smiling. ‘Prefer shit in my hands and clap to be honest’ you said flashing him a wicked grin. Soap laughed as he pulled you in by the shoulder ‘thanks again for help’n me with my shoulder.’

‘Just doin my job. I’ll need to look at the bandages later mind. So I’ll come find you.’

Settling into your room for the night you changed into your comfy cargo trousers and plain black t-shirt, and went to find the mess hall. It was a small base, a few buildings, a mess hall, a hangar and an air strip. Upon entering the mess hall you found you were the only one there, thank god. Could do with some peace and quiet after being holed up in that safe house for weeks with them. Not much in terms of food but there was a vending machine, you got a packet of crisps and a coke. Sitting down to tuck in you thought back to how close Ghost stood to you in the clinic. The way he looked at you, as if he was in a trance. His eyes full of desire and lust, the mere thought had you rubbing your thighs together. Desperate for some friction to release the pressure. You sat there absentmindedly eating your crisps, savouring the flavour of salt and vinegar on your tongue.

You were completely zoned out and didn’t realise you weren’t alone until you were faced with a man in a mask sat opposite you. ‘Alright?’ His voice broke the deathly quiet mess hall, if you could even call it a hall. More like a room. Refocusing your eyes on him you slowly sucked the flavouring off your thumb. That small movement had him teetering on the edge of losing it. ‘Yeah’ you sighed ‘been a long few weeks, just tired. And this headache is pissing me off.’ He was dressed in dark wash jeans and a tan 3/4 length shirt. His tattoo peeking out beneath the sleeve. Every fibre of you wanted to trace it with your fingers, to feel how soft his skin is.

Your hair was down draped over your shoulder and black t-shirt. You ran your hand through your hair to move it letting it fall naturally around your face. ‘You did well gettin that USB. Didn’t even realise you managed to get it.’ Feeling a blush creep up your body you looked away ‘yeah, I don’t really remember getting it. That memory is a little fuzzy, guy proper twatted me. Then hitting my head on the desk. Christ.’ He shifted on the bench slightly ‘how is your head?’ He asked cocking his head slightly.

‘Been better. But it will heal, I’m all good. I’m more concerned about this’ you gestured to your nose. ‘It’s been so swollen I can’t fully tell if it’s broken or not.’

‘Want me to check?’ He offered. Bingo, you thought to yourself. You’ve been so hung up on how close you got in the clinic you’ve been desperate for that feeling again. You knew damn well it wasn’t broken. Standing up from the bench you hopped up onto one of the counters. Ghost shot you a quizzical look. Shrugging you replied ‘I’m way shorter than you, just thinking of your neck.’ Accepting your answer he stood and walked over to where you were sat. The smell of gunpowder and his natural musk filled your senses. Taking in a deep breath to steady yourself he approached cautiously, entering your space. The shift in atmosphere was sudden and tense, once again your heart pounding in your chest as your lungs tightened.

His breath tickled your face from under his mask as he lifted his hands to your nose. You perched yourself forward on the cabinet to allow him more access. He started to feel the bridge of your nose as you hissed between your teeth. ‘How can you feel properly if you’ve got gloves on? Off.’ You commanded. Silently rolling his eyes he removed his gloves and placed them next to you on the counter. As he touched the bridge of your nose this time you were fully able to feel his fingertips. His touch was firm but gentle as he caressed your nose. You stared up at him, searching his eyes, his body language for a glimpse of how he was feeling. But the fucker hid it well.

Little did you know he was growing harder by the second, his cock twitching in his boxers. The position you were sat in, your legs spread on the cabinet resting your hands in between them, your doe like eyes piercing through his armour. He tried his best to keep his cool and collected demeanour. You let out a small moan of discomfort as he touched a sensitive spot on your nose. Snatching his gloves he put them back on. ‘Doesn’t seem like it’s broken, just badly bruised. You’ll be alright’ he said, a slight wobble in his voice. With that he turned on his heel and left the mess hall, leaving you horny and annoyed.

Stomping back to your room like a child you collapsed on your bed, throwing off your boots and slamming your head down on the pillow. This was getting silly. You reached down into your trousers and skipped your hand into your panties. Soaked. Ergh. Feeling how hard your clit was you knew you needed some release or you were going to be unbearable on that plane. Slipping your ring and middle finger into your wet cunt you pumped yourself to thought of Ghost. It didn’t take long before your orgasm was on the brink of forming, covering your mouth with your hand you let out breathy moans of pure pleasure. Rising your orgasm to the very end.

The next morning you boarded the plane headed for Saratov. Military planes are the worst, hardly comfortable and so loud. How you longed for your own bed, in your own home. But instead you had to make do with a cot on a loud ass plane with stinky ass men for hours on end. Grumbling to yourself you tossed and turned in the cot, unable to sleep. You’d been flying now for around 10 hours. You hated flying, you weren’t anxious it just bored the hell out of you. Throwing back the blanket you got out and stretched, maybe stretching your legs would help. You walked past the cots of the other men who were sleeping soundly, all but one. Ghosts cot was empty, usually these planes would be full to the brim with soldiers. But due to the urgency of the mission you were the only ones using it. Where troops would normally sit, cots were set up instead.

At the end of the aisle you could see Ghosts head popping up above the steel barrier. Balaclava and all. Creeping up to him silently you appeared in his peripheral making him jump. Letting out a low chuckle you whispered ‘not nice is it?’

‘Fuckin’ hell’ he gasped ‘don’t do that!’ Smirking you sat next to him, ‘can’t sleep? well, do you ever sleep?’ Turning to face you he drank you in, tousled hair, combat trousers, a black tee and your army regulation socks. You almost looked normal. ‘Nah. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’ Tutting you looked away ‘sleep deprivation is a number one killer Simon. Trust me. I’m a Doctor.’

He let out a small chuckle, ‘how’s your nose?’

‘Feeling better, nice knowing it’s broken. Thanks for checking by the way.’ You said as you laid a hand on his bicep.

The air suddenly felt thick, there it was, the feeling you’d been chasing since that day at the clinic. Letting your touch linger on his arm you slowly dropped it, stroking him as you did. You dropped your eyes again to where his lips were under the mask, longing to taste them. The sudden adrenaline making you feel brave, you slowly lifted your hand to his masked cheek. He felt tense under your touch, only for a few moments before he relaxed into the palm of your hand. Taking this as a good sign you slowly shifted towards him, until your knees were touching. Darting your eyes to his lips again you slowly parted yours, your breath seemingly refusing to come out.

He glanced down at your wet lips, god how he wanted to feel them on his own. He wanted as the hand on his cheek dropped to his neck as you slipped a finger under the rim of his balaclava. His hissed quietly at the contact on his skin, you touch burnt him in the most pleasurable way. Leaning closer you pulled slightly at his mask. ‘Please Simon’ you said, barely above a whisper. With that he placed his own hand over yours and helped you slowly work it up to just beneath his nose. His lips, so full and plump, stubble adorned his strong jawline and chin, a vein snaking its way down his throat.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘

Taking one last look at one another’s lips you both slowly closed the space between you. Your noses finally touching, millimetres away from his mouth. You both hovered there, daring each other to go first. ‘Please’ you whispered again, it verged on begging. He slowly pressed his lips against yours, it was hard to maintain your composure. The kiss was soft at first, but you wanted more. He lingered on your lips savouring the taste of you. Pulling away you glanced at him before smiling into the next kiss. You coaxed his mouth open before sucking hit bottom lip and biting it. A small moan left him, spurring you on more. You threw you leg over his hips, straddling him. You cupped his face, snaking your fingers under the mask, his stubble grazing your palms. The kiss grew hungry, he opened your mouth with his before slowly inserting his tongue. Your tongues swirled together as his strong arms pulled you further into his torso, both trying desperately to keep your moans silent.

His one hand cupped the back of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss. You grasped the hair at the back of his neck eliciting a hiss from him. Breaking the kiss you leant back and ran your thumb over his lip, just like he’d always imagined. He nipped at your thumb, before placing a tender kiss on the pad. You bit your lip as you felt his hard cock brush against you. Glancing down you smirked ‘for me?’ He gripped your head tighter and softly growled ‘always.’ Leaning into kiss him again you found your hips grinding on top of him. ‘Fuuuck, Simon’ you drawled. He leant into your neck, nipping softly as you cradled his head into you. Working his way up to your ear his breath danced on your skin sending goosebumps down your spine.

A sound of rustling soon killed the moment as you shot your head above the steel frame. Someone was getting up. Leaning your forehead against his you gently kissed his nose under the mask before sliding it back down his face. As you scrambled off his lap you planted a firm kiss on his masked lips. Walking off back to your cot silently you looked over shoulder at him smirking. Sliding back into your cot you smiled to yourself.

You’d never slept so well.

[ghosttimido]

To the Moon and Back

It's been weeks since Soap and Ghost had their conversation, Soap was currently sitting on a bench outside the compound thinking about what happened that night. 

Ghost promised that He would get to see him more but after they shared their "I love yous" and chaste kisses, their routine fell right back into what it was before stealing quick looks at each other and not even uttering a single word to each other.

Soap was tired, did he mean what he said? was this just a long and very devoted joke? all these thoughts in his head were bouncing around and causing, even more, to be knocked around.

He heard a door open and didn't even bother to look, thoughts consuming him "ah, thought I'd find you out here."  Soap hummed in response

Now Ghost knew something was up, Soap was never quiet like this

"hun what's wrong?"

"did you mean it?"

"huh"

"it's been weeks and we've just been staring with no mention of what happened that night!" Soap exclaimed, "and not even when we have off time its just stares and avoiding each other!"

"I'm sorry" Ghost said looking down at his feet "I'm just scared, everyone I've gotten close to either dies or suffers and I don't want you to because of me"

Ghost kneeled down in front of Soap taking his hands from his face holding them and rubbing his thumbs on the back of his hands.

Soap looked up into his eyes, those beautiful eyes that steal his breath every time "Ghost I love you so fucking much and no one and I mean no one is gonna take you from me."

"Can we just sit here and watch the stars together?"

"whatever you want to do we will do. Together."

Ghost stood up and took a seat next to Soap and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, Soap leaning into the warmth of him. If it wasn't for the hard bench he could fall asleep like this next to Ghost like he was meant to.

a few hours passed by and Soap was completely asleep, feeling a nudge he woke up to looking into Ghost's eyes now this is something I can get used to waking up to he thought. "come on I don't want us in pain tomorrow cause we slept on a bench"

"like the cots are any better" Soap protested, Ghost laughed like fully laughed not just a chuckle or a whisper of a laugh like a proper laugh.It was beautiful. "you didn't deny it L.T." 

they made their way back to Ghost's room? He's never been in or around never had a reason to before now, he silently wished that he would let him see Simon once they were in there.

the moment the door was shut it was locked by Ghost "I don't want Price or Gaz coming to wake me up and seeing us, 'cause you know Gaz can't stay quiet then the whole compound would know."

"of course L.T., just me and you for as long you want."

Ghost started getting ready for bed and Soap took it as a cue to get ready as well, he had finished getting his gear, boots, and holsters all off he looked up and Simon was looking right at him smiling

Soap thought he was going to melt right there, eyes tracing over scars and details like his life depended on it, just in case they don't get another moment like this for a while, which is not a thought Soap wanted right now.

Eyes tracing over two scars a perfect length apart from each other on the bottom of Simons's lips did he have piercings? His hair was a dirty blonde, but with a hint of ginger, curly still sticking down from his mask, starting to fluff up already.

 The crooked nose that looked like it was broken several dozen times. His lips oh boy his lips are a perfect pink full and chapped from constant wear of his mask. Simon just sat there letting Soap take it in, he'll tell him about the scars, everything with time.

Finally after what felt like ages Soap finally spoke "wow, you were right" "I am quite the opposite," Simon said with a smirk

"I never thought you were ugly but wow I wasn't expecting this, you're breathtaking."

Simon smiled and pulled Soap towards him bringing him into a deep kiss. "Johnny I love you so much."

"how much Simon."

"To the moon and back."

[taramemberence]

The Heart Line: COC 2022 MASTERPOST

All my chapters are actually all in the same spot, but I think having a list of them all with summaries would be better. That way there'd actually be a reason to click on a fic with no summary on ao3.

Day 1: The End

"This can't be the end."

Set after WS and before AWTWB. Simon is stuck to the sofa.

the rest of the descriptions are under the cut. the ones highlighted in pink are my personal favorites.

Day 2: AU - The Tingly Thing

"Don't tell them about the tingly thing."

Spider-Man meets Fangirl meets Carry On. A rewrite of the scene in No Way Home where MJ and Ned summon two different Peter Parker's.

Day 3: Expectations

"Still, Aunt Fiona keeps provoking him, and he keeps taking the bait, and the car is still sitting in the driveway, and neither of them can seem to see that I'm about to be back in that coffin again."

Simon finds out about the rule about who is allowed to sit in the front seat, and Baz has a panic attack.

Day 4: Cake

"We see smoke coming out of the oven again."

Simon and Penny make multiple attempts to bake Baz a cake for his birthday.

Day 5: Bloodlines

"If he never does it again, I want this to be the one good memory."

Baz finds himself at his mother's grave, feeling lost and suicidal. Simon finds him.

Day 6: Side/Alternative Ship - A World Without You

"Whatever happened between us, I'm going to need him to look past it and come back to me. I don't want to live a life without him."

Baz has a nightmare where Simon never survived America and he ended up staying there with Lamb.

Day 7: Veil - Love Me And Let Go

"I was the only one cursed to this life. Everyone I've ever loved and cared for is gone."

Simon has passed away, Visiting Baz every twenty years when the Veil lifts.

Day 8: Lyrics - End Game

"I wanna be your endgame," I tell him. He lifts his head, and his sleepy eyes meet mine.

"Simon, you already are."

Simon tries to analyze lyrics to a Taylor Swift song, and Baz is just trying to sleep.

Day 9: Staff

"I've insisted that it's probably just a product of growing older, but he disagrees. He's convinced that he's dying."

Simon takes a trip to the Wing and Knee specialist.

Day 10: Angst

"Shut up, Baz! Stop it!" He cries. This isn't enough. I'm not doing enough. Please Simon, forgive me later. Please.

Baz hurts Simon in order to save himself.

Day 11: WLW - Keep

"She's wrapping her arms around me, rocking me from side to side."

Fiona comes out to Baz and Simon.

Day 12: Devour

"I'm cold. He keeps insisting that it's warmer in the water, but I don't think I believe him."

Simon and Baz go on vacation together, and Baz has been lying about feeding. He hasn't fed.

Day 13: Devotion

"He pulls back and checks my face, wiping under my eyes again, hiding the evidence that I ever cried tonight."

All Baz wants to do is dance with his boyfriend at his father's New Year's party.

Day 14: Cryptid

"I kept insisting that I wasn't insane. Baz said I'm not insane."

Simon starts to have hallucinations.

Day 15: Fluff

"I wake up to Simon licking my face."

Snowbaz being cute and lazy in bed.

Day 16: Bridge

"I like myself better, knowing I'm carrying a part of him with me everywhere I go."

A continuation of chapter 13, but can stand alone. Simon pays attention to Baz's nose.

Day 17: Match

"I think I still have yet to find something that I wouldn't do for him."

Simon and Baz wear matching Christmas sweaters.

Day 18: Shepherd

"Shepard, of course, thought it was a brilliant idea. He's a complete buffoon, just like Simon."

Simon and Shepard dress as shepherds.

Day 19: Heal

"I gently touch his shoulders where his skin isn't mangled. I rub my fingers over his soft skin, leaning in to press a kiss there."

Baz still has bullets in his chest, so Simon does his best to take care of him.

Day 20: Fangs

"I'd bite my hand to stifle the sounds I'm making, but my fangs have dropped and I don't want to pierce my skin."

Every year, Baz has nightmares on the night of his mother's death.

Day 21: First Snow

"He puts his scarf back, covering my nose and mouth again. His face is red. I don't think it's because of the cold."

Simon and Baz go for a walk in the snow.

Day 22: Ritual

"The Mage carries me to my bed and sets me down, leaving without a word. It's okay. The look on his face is more than enough."

The Mage sends Simon on another mission only for Baz to pick up the pieces when he comes home.

Day 23: Hurt/Comfort - Bottom Of The Ocean

"I'd never leave you," I promise him softly, "even if it took me out with you, I would never let you die alone."

Simon and Baz are caught in a battle that leads to a fight for Baz's life under the water.

Day 24: Showers

"He makes it better. Even though I’m not feeling better, he makes it better."

Baz is in the shower when all the memories catch up to him.

Day 25: Sleep

"I can just break his heart while he hears how broken I am. I'll let him decide if he wants to try and fix me afterward."

A nightmare wakes Baz from his sleep.

[irishseeeker]

                                    i’ve been waiting for you

Summary:  Each time Anthony and Kate first meet their children.

---

chapter 1: anthony meets edmund

Anthony meets Edmund Benedict Bridgerton on a sunny, Tuesday morning. He had been woken up by a heaving Kate the previous night, saying it was time. Anthony had completely panicked but had managed to compose himself to run for the staff to contact the doctor and wake Mary. Mary, Kate’s mother, had taken up residence with them three weeks ago to help her daughter through the birth.

It was considered improper for men to be in the birthing suite, it was considered inappropriate and nothing a man should be exposed to.

The fact had horrified Kate when she found out, pregnancy and childbirth was something she was completely naïve about until it was happening to her. She could not fathom going through anything anymore without Anthony beside her, especially childbirth. Anthony understood this, even when Kate did not protest the doctor’s instructions for Anthony to leave.

It was not advisable, but Anthony simply told the doctor to fuck off anyway.

No one told Viscount Bridgerton what to do, except his mother and the Viscountess Bridgerton. Kate. How was he supposed to wait outside while Kate, his Kate, was in agony for hours on end? He could not bear it. He would not bear it.

Before going into labour, towards the end of her pregnancy, Kate had expressed to Anthony that she wanted him there. They were wrapped up in bed one evening, murmuring sweet nothings between them until the conversation took a serious tone. Kate had told him how scared she was to give birth, that she knew it was silly but it still terrified her.

He had been at a loss for words, feeling horrifically guilty of this fear and there was not a lot he could do about it. So he would do anything he could to help her. They read books about it, they spoke with doctors, they spoke with Daphne about her experiences.

If Kate needed him there, he would be there.

Anthony was not physically or emotionally capable of denying his wife anything.

It was a long, tedious birth. Kate had been in labour for most of the night, walking around the birthing suite in an attempt to speed up the process or breathing heavily through each contraction. Anthony never left her side. His hand ached from how long Kate had squeezed it through contractions, not that he would dare admit that out loud.

Kate would definitely smack him.

Eventually, the doctor announced it was time to push. Mary was holding Kate's other hand, whispering soothing and encouraging words into her daughter's ear. Anthony had been screamed at to stay at Kate’s side and not dare go look between her legs. Anthony would not repeat the other things his wife cursed at him as she pushed, as much as they amused him. All he could do was hold Kate’s hand and rest the other on her back, supporting her back as she leaned forward. He did not stop speaking to her, telling her how incredible she was, how much he loved her, how in awe of he was.

Every time he thought he could not not love his wife more, she proved him wrong every time.

The piercing cry that eventually broke through the room in the early hours of the morning left Anthony without the ability to speak.

“You have a son,” The doctor announced, holding the baby up to the new parents. He cut the umbilical cord and wiped the wriggling, slightly pink and purple baby covered in a white substance and red splotches of blood.

“Oh my, is he alright?” Kate sobbed, collapsing against the pillows but her eyes did not leave her son. She looked so exhausted but elated, and the tears streaming down her face matched the ones on her mother and husband’s faces. Anthony did not try to hide his tears, how could he? He had a son. A son. “Oh, Anthony. Mary. Look.”

“You are amazing, I love you,” He whispered against her temple, pressing a kiss there but his eyes never left his son as the doctor returned with the baby wrapped in a white cloth, laying him on Kate’s chest.

“Oh darling, you did so well. He is perfect,” Mary said softly, peering closer to her daughter who had adjusted the baby in his arms. “Have you chosen a name?”

The name of their son had been a topic of debate between Kate and Anthony over the last nine months. They could not agree on a name, or one of them loved a name the other hated.

“We have,” Kate murmured, which caused Anthony to raise an eyebrow at his wife. As far as he was concerned, the topic was very much still up for debate.

“Edmund,” Kate declared, looking up from her son to stare at her husband, her eyes lighter than the heavens above and her smile was small and magical. “Edmund Benedict Bridgerton.”

Anthony was speechless.

“I will leave you two,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to Kate’s forehead and reaching over to squeeze Anthony’s arm before she turned to leave the room. “I will give you a moment of privacy. I will be back soon. Congratulations.”

“Kate,” He murmured, making absolutely no attempt to hide his emotions as he moved closer to his wife and son. He could not think of anything to say other than his wife’s name. He could not put what he was thinking and feeling into words.

“There was never another name for him. It is perfect, don’t you think?” Kate spoke softly, resting her head against Anthony’s shoulder. “A great man named after a great man.”

Again, words completely failed him. All Anthony could do was glance between his wife and son, nodding in agreement. It meant everything to him, absolutely everything to him. His father would have loved it. His mother would love it, as would his siblings. All Anthony had ever wanted in life was to honour his father and be the father he was.

In this moment, looking at his son, Anthony knew that was all he would ever try to do. He wanted to be a man and father worthy of Edmund, worthy of their future children, worthy of Kate.

“Here you are,” Kate said softly, snapping Anthony out of his thoughts as she moved her arms close to Anthony’s as she transferred their son into his waiting arms.

The feeling of his son, his son, being placed into his arms was indescribable. He was pink and loud, his little lungs screaming for air and possibly out of discomfort before settling once he was in his father’s arms. Did he know who Anthony was?

Anthony had never felt anything like this, looking at his first born son. It was not his first time holding a baby, he had held Simon and Daphne’s newborn daughter Amelia only last year. The first baby he had ever held was Hcyinth when he was just eighteen years old. He thought he had felt love then, staring into the eyes of his newborn sister that would never know their father and would only ever know him.

Except this time, Anthony was a father. The most important role in his life, not Viscount, but husband was now tied with father.

He was a father.

This tiny baby, with his slightly pointed nose that was Anthony's and cheekbones that were all Kate, was a part of them. Both of them. He was theirs. He was a Bridgerton.

“Wow,” Anthony whispered, terrified to move an inch as he sat perched on the bed beside Kate. One of his fingertips lightly grazed his son’s tiny cheek, which was not even the size of Anthony’s palm, and his delicate skin was so soft.

He was heaven.

Time had always been an enemy of Anthony's, something he was constantly fighting a battle against. He often wanted to reverse it. Except, this time, he didn’t wish he could reverse it. He found himself wanting to stop it, in this utterly distilling moment, wishing he could stay in this moment of holding his son for the first time forever.

“It suits you,” Kate said, breaking Anthony out of his trance as Anthony broke his gaze and looked up at her. She was the most beautiful thing in the world, laying against the pillows on the bed, her dark thick hair slightly matted and damp. She must be exhausted.

“What suits me?” Anthony asked, resuming his staring contest with his son, whose dark eyes were glancing around the room curiously before landing back on his father. “You should sleep, love. You need your rest to recover.”

“It suits you being a father,” Kate murmured, her eyes drooping closed as she settled herself against the pillows. “You were born for it. Mm. I am rather exhausted. For once, I shall not argue,” Her voice teased him, drifting off as she spoke, a small smile settling on her lips.

He loved her. Anytime he thought he could not possibly love her more, she always proved him wrong.

Anthony did not leave the birthing suite once in the hours Kate slept. He wanted to keep an eye on her, hours after the birth were important ones to observe in case something terrible happened. He also could not take his eyes off his son, or was capable of putting him down.

“I’m your father,” Anthony spoke softly to his son as he stood by the window, gazing out at the night sky. He had been awake far too long but the adrenaline running through his veins kept him awake. If he felt slightly drowsy, he just looked at his son and it sent a euphoric buzz throughout his veins. He brought Edmund closer to his face so he could lightly kiss his forehead. "I am completely yours."

“You will meet everyone soon,” He kept his voice low, cautious his wife was asleep close to them. He had been rambling for a while now, talking about nothing and everything. His son was a few hours old and Anthony wanted to tell him everything. “I promised your aunt Hyacinth she would meet you first, so she will come soon. Then there are your uncles and your aunts. There are a lot of people who love you,” He rocked his son back and forth slowly, watching his lips open and close as he shifted in his father’s arms. “You and I are incredibly lucky. We have an amazing family, but nothing compares to your mother. She is everything.”

“You should sleep, you must be exhausted,” Kate’s voice startled him slightly, and Anthony turned his back on the window to look at his wife. He felt his cheeks darken slightly, wondering how much she had overheard. She was sitting up, half-awake and smiling tiredly at him. “Come here. I miss you two.”

“I am well,” Anthony murmured, obeying his wife as he carefully climbed onto the bed, tucking Edmund against his chest as he did so. Kate carefully took the baby, holding him against her chest with one hand and holding his tiny hand with the other. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted and sore,” Kate replied honestly, nuzzling the top of Edmund’s head and pressing a kiss to his bald head with a few tufts of light hair. The baby began to fuss and Kate took that as a sign he was hungry, and she pulled down her nightdress to feed him. “I also have never felt happier in my entire life.”

Anthony chuckled softly, curling himself around his family as he pulled the sheets further over the three of them, carefully tucking his arm under the baby and Kate.

Anthony had never been good with expressing his emotions or dealing with emotions in general, but lying there, beside his family, he felt as if he would burst he was feeling so much. He had to say something. He was conscious of how he made Kate feel, given his opposition to any form of love at the start of his marriage. He never wanted her to feel as if he did not love her or appreciate her, but he still struggled with expressing his emotions. “Me too. I- Kate. Thank you, thank you for everything. For him. For being you. I love you, Kate. I love you both of you with every part of me.”

Anthony glanced up at his wife and his breath caught slightly as her dark eyes were glistening, and she motioned for him to come closer. “It was my pleasure, quite a painful pleasure, but I would do it a million times over. For you. For him. For us. We love you too, you sweet incredible man. Now, kiss me before you pass out.”

Anthony laughed, blinking momentarily to try take the sting out of his wet eyes. Anthony had never felt so much in his entire life and he really needed to stop crying. He would only cry in front of Kate, rarely, but he hoped it was out of his system. He leaned forward and kissed Kate softly, squeezing her hand which lay on top of his on their son’s back.

As Anthony fell into a much needed slumber, beside his wife and son, he had never felt so content in his entire life. This was always where he was meant to be.

He was home.

[bevioletskies]

(i’m caught between) goodbye and i love you

summary: Sometimes, Klavier thinks a little too much about how he never knew the last time he saw Apollo was going to be the last time he saw Apollo. So, when Apollo finally returns home from Khura’in, Klavier finds himself stuck, unsure of when to finally tell Apollo how he feels - especially when it seems like Apollo isn’t quite ready to confess, either.

word count: 16.9k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day seven of seven (prompt: "catharsis"). 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; warning for brief mentions of alcohol and one scene where a character has a panic attack. Fic title is from the song (I'm Caught Between) Goodbye And I Love You by the Carpenters.

“What do you think, Gavin, which do you - hey, Gavin? Are you listening?”

Klavier startled at the sound of Apollo’s voice, too lost in his own thoughts to realize someone had been talking to him. He looked over at Apollo, who was standing underneath one of the courthouse’s most prolific picture windows, practically glowing in the early afternoon sun. Klavier’s breath hitched at the sight. “Ah - my apologies, Herr Forehead, I didn’t catch that. What were you saying?”

“Ema said we should all do something that doesn’t involve murder for once.” Apollo looked up from his phone, wincing. “Er, that is, something that doesn’t involve solving a murder for once. She suggested drinks, though Kay apparently prefers laser tag. As if I don't get enough bumps and bruises from helping Trucy out on weekends.”

“Ah, the life of a magician’s brother,” Klavier teased, smiling easily. “But, wait - do you mean to say Fräulein Detective actually wants to hang out with me? Or are you inviting me? Either way, I find it hard to believe.”

“No one’s more surprised than me,” Apollo drawled. “But seriously, Ema says Kay is making her ask you through me, ‘cos that totally makes sense. Anyway, drinks or laser tag? Or, y’know, both? They’re thinking this weekend since they’re going to some forensics convention next weekend. Did not know those existed. Do you think they give out swag bags full of fingerprint powder?”

“I would advise against it if they did,” Klavier said, chuckling. He then slipped his hands into his pockets, shooting Apollo an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Forehead, you’ll have to have a good time without me. I have a dentist appointment, some meetings...you know how it is. Maybe next time, ja?”

“Sure, I’ll let you know whenever that is,” Apollo replied with a nonchalant shrug; he sent a quick text, presumably to Ema, then pocketed his phone. “Anyway, I should go find Mr. Wright and head back to the agency. So, uh...see you when I see you, I guess.”

“Auf Wiedersehen, baby,” Klavier said, winking. Apollo rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and striding away, waving Klavier off over his shoulder. “Don’t have too good a time without me, though, ja?” Apollo’s wave instantly turned into a middle finger.

Barely two weeks later, Klavier found himself replaying the rather mundane conversation in his head over and over again as he walked into his superior’s office, his hands shoved into his pockets to hide how hard they were shaking. “Willkommen zurück, Herr Edgeworth. How was your flight? Smooth, I hope.”

“Smoother than what conspired in Khura’in, to be sure,” Edgeworth replied, neatly setting his teacup down in its saucer. “Don’t worry, Prosecutor Gavin, I’m still getting everything in order. I doubt you’ll have much work to do today, bar any last-minute cases coming in.”

“Danke, sir, good to know.” Klavier glanced briefly in the direction of Edgeworth’s custom chessboard, his red knights and blue pawns, just so he wouldn’t have to look at its owner’s steely gaze. “So, er - ”

“Out with it, Prosecutor Gavin,” Edgeworth said, sighing wearily. “I can tell you have something on your mind. I’m afraid I can’t give you the exact details of what happened, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Ah - ja, I know, I - I was just wondering if…” Klavier hesitated. “...if everyone is...okay. Safe and sound, so to speak.”

Edgeworth’s face softened. “Yes, everyone’s perfectly fine. Wright, Ms. Fey, Ms. Cykes, and Trucy are all fine.”

Klavier blinked. “Wait, but - what about Herr Fore - Herr Justice? What...did he…”

“I should have known that was who you were really curious about,” Edgeworth said knowingly, looking at Klavier over the tops of his glasses. His expression, gentle, almost sympathetic, made Klavier’s stomach churn. “Mr. Justice decided to stay behind in Khura’in indefinitely. He’s looking to help rebuild their legal system from the ground up.”

Klavier felt as if his heart had dropped right through to the floor. “He’s...he’s not coming back?” He could barely hear the sound of his own voice over the rush of his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Eventually, perhaps, but not anytime soon,” Edgeworth replied. “My apologies, Prosecutor Gavin. I know you two were…”

“Close?” Klavier let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Nein, not at all. We were barely even friends.”

Edgeworth straightened up in his seat, and then, to Klavier’s astonishment, removed his glasses. It was unnerving to see such warmth in his superior’s eyes, especially when he knew Edgeworth didn’t think much of him in the first place. Not after what had happened all those years ago, even though it hadn’t really been him. “Let me amend my previous statement, then. I know you two had a...connection of sorts.”

“Ja, through...through someone I’d rather not talk about.” Klavier cleared his throat. “Danke for letting me know, Herr Edgeworth. It’s...good to see Herr Justice making something of himself.”

“He's definitely an admirable young man,” Edgeworth replied, nodding slowly. “I can see why Wright took a liking to him. I can see why you took a liking to him.”

“Ah, well,” Klavier said, coughing again. “Anyway, I should leave you to it, sir. Have a good rest of your day, ja? I’ll be in my office if anything comes up.”

“Of course.” Edgeworth neatly slid his glasses back on, then turned his attention to his work laptop. “Take care, Prosecutor Gavin.” Nodding at the dismissal, Klavier bowed his head and left Edgeworth’s office, his footsteps noticeably heavier than they’d been when he first entered it. He took a few heaving breaths, then shut himself in his own office and let out a small, silent sob.

_____

“I see you’re moping again, Gavin-dono. Must be a day that ends in ‘y’.”

“Bitte, Herr Blackquill, I’m perfectly fine,” Klavier said, clutching his mug of tea a little tighter than necessary. “My trial yesterday? Perfekt. The weather during my morning run earlier today? Perfekt. The leftovers I brought for lunch today? Perfekt, so long as Herr Payne doesn’t break the microwave again before I get there...I don’t know how he manages to do that on a weekly basis. Anyway, as you can see, I’ve never been better.”

“What a sad testament to your mental state if that were true.” Simon dropped into the seat opposite him, his hands resting on top of the breakroom table, his intense gaze focused on Klavier’s face. Klavier didn’t find him as intimidating as everyone else did, especially not after he’d witnessed Simon sing a drunken duet with Kay, entirely unprompted, at an office holiday party. No amount of threats or glares could get Klavier to delete the video evidence off his backup hard drive. “Luckily for you, it’s entirely false. You’ve been acting strangely for weeks now, and I know the reason why.”

“Do you really?” Klavier sipped his tea. “I thought you didn’t, quote-unquote, ‘care to stick your nose in my absurd affairs’. After all, I’m the silly one of the prosecutor’s office, am I not?” Simon cocked his head slightly, perplexed. “Ah, that Prosecutor Gavin, what an odd one he is. All style and no substance, always speaking in that accent that no one believes is real, always spouting nonsense and song lyrics and little else.”

“Self-hatred doesn’t suit you, so I suggest you cease this pitiful act at once,” Simon said, frowning. “You’re a confident man, Gavin-dono. I’d even say your confidence is fully justified, foppish nature aside. And yet, here you are, torn up over Justice-dono’s absence like a heartbroken teenager.”

“I am not torn up,” Klavier sniffed, setting his mug down with a sharp clunk. “I’m happy to hear that Herr Forehead has found his true calling. A far cry from the loud, nervous rookie he was when we first met. Now, he’s just loud.”

“...hmph. Yes, that piercing voice of his certainly rivals Taka’s,” Simon replied, taking a moment to scratch the underside of his bird’s chin. Klavier didn’t like the way Taka was eyeing his hair; he suspected Taka was fighting against his instincts to make a nest.

“Maybe still a little nervous.” Klavier paused. “I imagine seeing him stand in a Khura’inese court must be quite...something.”

“I didn’t sit here with the intention of listening to you dance around your romantic feelings towards Justice-dono, you know,” Simon informed him. “It’s exhausting and pointless, and a waste of my time.”

Klavier averted his eyes from Simon’s face, finding himself oddly fascinated with a water stain on the opposite wall, right beside the notice board. “Why did you sit here, then?”

“Because...I know a lonely person when I see one.” Simon let the silence linger for a moment; Klavier wasn’t sure which of them favored dramatic pauses more. “Even Athena told me you seemed...not yourself. Though you’ve been performing your prosecutorial duties just fine, she said you were distant...distracted. Is it the lack of companionship, perhaps?”

“You and Herr Edgeworth seem to be under the impression that Forehead and I were friends,” Klavier said evenly, his tone growing increasingly irritated. “The truth is, Herr Blackquill - since you seem unusually interested for someone who barely says two words to me most mornings - that Apollo was my friend, but I wasn’t his. Is that what you wanted to hear? Has your analysis of my psyche scratched your itch?”

Like Edgeworth, Simon’s face almost seemed to soften. “I had no desire to rile you up, but...I see that I’ve done it, anyway. I see that I’ve overstepped. Forgive me, Gavin-dono.” Klavier looked up at him, stunned. Simon merely stood, smoothing out the front of his coat. Even Taka’s expression seemed apologetic. “Find someone to talk to, if you haven’t already; it will do you a world of good. I heard many a story from my fellow prisoners by simply offering to lend an ear. I think you’d find the process of opening up to be quite...illuminating. Freeing, even.”

“I’m sure I would.” Klavier took another sip and said nothing else.

_____

“Mr. Gavin! I thought I saw you in the audience, but I couldn’t believe it!”

Laughing, Klavier held out the bouquet of red roses in his arms for her to take. “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, fräulein, what a perfect way to celebrate your eighteenth. You were as magical as ever, though who would ever expect any less?”

Beaming, Trucy accepted his flowers, then practically launched herself right at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He barely managed to catch her in time. “Thank you so much! Ah, these are so beautiful - and they smell great, too!” She stepped back, taking a generous whiff before exhaling happily. “Hey, do you wanna drop by my dressing room for a sec? I have to go sign autographs and stuff, but I’m sure Athena would love to say hi!”

“Sure,” Klavier agreed. “Lead the way.” He followed Trucy down the backstage corridor, coming to a stop in front of a door with a gold nameplate in the shape of a silk top hat. Klavier involuntarily shuddered; the Gramarye seal had always been a sore spot for him, no matter how many good memories outweighed the bad. Trucy opened the door, revealing that it wasn’t just Athena who was waiting inside, but a whole group of people - Athena, the two Fey women whose names Klavier vaguely remembered from Trucy’s stories, Detective Gumshoe, and an odd, almost sad-looking girl wearing a traditional costume. However, Klavier’s eyes went straight to the two people conversing by Trucy’s dressing table - Phoenix Wright and Vera Misham.

Phoenix turned at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened slightly when he saw who it was. “This is becoming a real party now, hey, Truce?” he teased, lightly ruffling his daughter’s hair. Trucy stuck her tongue out at him, then went to carefully place Klavier’s flowers among the dozens of others by her costume rack. Phoenix’s expression tightened somewhat. “Prosecutor Gavin, it’s - it’s good to see you. Trucy swore she spotted you in the audience, but I guess my eyes were never as sharp as hers.”

“I know her party is tomorrow, but I wouldn’t dare pass up the chance to watch her birthday extravaganza,” Klavier said smoothly. He felt as if Vera’s eyes were burning holes in the side of his face.

“So you’re Prosecutor Gavin, huh?” The older Fey woman - Maya, if Klavier remembered correctly - sidled right up to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Trucy and Athena have told me all about you. I hear you’re different from the other prosecutors me and Nick had to deal with back in the day!”

The door opened behind Klavier. “Are you talking about us, Maya Fey?” He turned on his heel to see Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma standing in the doorway, both impeccably dressed as always, carrying identical bouquets of white lilies and blue delphinium in their arms.

“Auntie Franzy!” Trucy shrieked, barreling across the room to toss herself into Franziska’s arms, much like she had done to Klavier just moments ago. “Daddy said you weren’t gonna fly in until tomorrow!”

“And miss your performance? I would be a foolishly foolish fool if I did,” Franziska huffed, kissing Trucy on the cheek. “You will receive the rest of our presents tomorrow. I hear your fool of a father refuses to let you wear makeup despite the fact that you’d like to, and I am here to rectify that parenting mistake. You’re eighteen now, after all; you should be able to do as you please.”

“Within reason,” Edgeworth added, shooting Franziska a withering look. “Don’t encourage her too much, Franziska. I think we're all too familiar with Trucy’s...imagination.”

“Miles Edgeworth, how dare you question my - ”

Klavier quickly retreated into a corner of the dressing room as everyone’s voices grew louder and louder; clearly, his presence had been completely forgotten. He spotted the younger Fey woman, Pearl, conversing with the sad-looking girl - Jinxie, he heard her name was - while Maya and Detective Gumshoe chatted happily with Edgeworth and Franziska. Trucy had left to sign autographs for her fans, leaving Phoenix to turn back to Vera, who was still eyeing Klavier warily.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Klavier startled suddenly at the sound of Athena’s voice. He turned to see her perched on the vanity, legs swinging over the edge, smiling at him encouragingly. “You seem a little lost, Prosecutor Gavin. Everything okay?”

Sighing, Klavier leaned against the wall, glancing down at the toes of his Doc Martens. “Don’t tell me Herr Blackquill asked you to keep an eye on me.”

“Hardly!” Athena exclaimed; she almost seemed offended by his insinuation. “You just seem a little...quiet, that’s all.”

“Well…” Klavier looked back up, shooting her a stilted smile. “Everyone here is either someone I don’t know, someone I work with, or someone whose life I ruined. Forgive me for feeling a little...cornered.”

“C’mon, you didn’t ruin their lives,” Athena said, hopping down so she could lightly punch him in the arm. “I heard the whole story from Apollo ages ago, and he says it wasn’t you. He says you were just a…a schachfigur in someone else’s game.”

“A pawn, in other words.” Klavier chuckled despite himself. “Ja, if you want to be generous about it...or if you want to say that I’m easily swayed. Did Herr Forehead really say that?”

“He sure did! He talks about you all the time,” Athena added with an enthusiastic nod. “I mean, you annoy him - a lot - but he’s always mentioning how decent and honest you are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think, well...nah, probably not.”

“Probably not,” Klavier echoed, trying his best to ignore his racing heart. The last thing he wanted to do was have hope. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be sticking around much longer. Don’t want to get in the way.”

“Huh? You’re not getting in the way of anything!” Athena protested. “Are you sure you won’t stay?”

Klavier shook his head, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up, smoothing out the creases in his hoodie. “Nein, I should make an early night of it. I have to meet my personal trainer bright and early, after all. But I’ll see you at Trucy’s party tomorrow, ja?”

Athena hesitated. “Ja, of course,” she chirped, plastering on an uncertain smile. “And hey, if you ever need a running partner, you have my number!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Klavier promised, surprising himself by how true that was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone running with someone who wasn’t his personal trainer. “Gute Nacht, fräulein.”

“G’night,” Athena said, squeezing his shoulder before letting him go. Nodding, Klavier deftly weaved his way through the crowded dressing room and slipped out the door. A few heads turned his way, but no one seemed interested in saying their goodbyes, nor was he all that interested in offering his own, either. The moment he stepped into the corridor, he heard a startled gasp, a choked breath, that almost made him jump.

“Ach - my apologies, I didn’t mean to - Trucy?”

Leaning against the wall opposite her dressing room door was Trucy, her eyes wide and suspiciously wet. “Oh - Mr. Gavin, d-don’t tell me you’re leaving already!”

“I have a session with my - are you alright, fräulein?” Klavier asked, closing the door behind him, then approaching her slowly, carefully. “You look…”

“ - like I’ve been crying?” Trucy let out a wet laugh, pulling a tissue out of nowhere and hastily wiping her eyes. “Don’t you cry after a big performance, Mr. Gavin? You know, that rush of adrenaline, that boost of energy, that feeling of relief - it’s all a part of being a performer! Especially on a stage as big as this!”

“Natürlich, I’ve absolutely wept tears of joy after a gut show. But this?” Klavier gestured in her direction. “This...it’s something else, isn’t it?”

“I - it’s just…” Trucy sniffled. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Klavier said softly. “Though maybe Herr Wright should hear this another time, too.”

“I don’t wanna bother Daddy,” Trucy said, shaking her head. “Besides, I...I don’t wanna make him feel bad!”

“Bad?” Klavier repeated, confused. “What do you mean?”

Trucy took a moment to blow her nose. Then, she managed a small smile in Klavier’s direction. “It’s stupid, but...when I was in there earlier, and I-I saw all of my friends and family together, I started thinking about...you know. The rest of my family. All of the Gramaryes, all gone.” She sniffled noisily again. “Mommy and Daddy and Grandpa, they - th-they never got to see me grow up. And Uncle Valant, he’s still in prison, a-and - so now it’s just me. Just me. I have to carry on the family legacy, but no one’s here to teach me how!”

Klavier’s eyes widened in shock. “Trucy…”

“But if I tell Daddy - Phoenix, I mean - that I’ve been thinking about Mommy and Daddy, he’s gonna...I just can’t,” Trucy continued, shaking her head vehemently. “If he finds out, he’s gonna feel like...like he failed me. And he didn’t, not one bit, but - when I first started living with him, he said he felt like that all the time. Like he was doing it all wrong.” She swallowed, but her throat seemed to be stuck. “And...I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about Apollo, too.”

“You were?” Klavier asked, his mouth twisting. “Why?”

“I know I’ve only known him for a few years, but...it feels like I’ve known him forever. Like we were always meant to be best friends, you know?” Trucy was now fiddling with the ends of her cape, avoiding Klavier’s eyes. “It’s my birthday, a-and he’s not here. He called yesterday to say he wouldn’t be able to talk today, so we had a little celebration together, just the two of us. It was nice, but it just...it wasn’t the same.”

“He’ll come back eventually, ja?” Klavier said gently. “You said that was part of his plan.”

“‘Eventually’ is looking further and further away,” Trucy said with a wry smile. “But I-I know I gotta be okay with it. He’s doing really important stuff in Khura’in, after all!” She then nudged him. “You should call him sometime - he’s talked about some really cool cases that I bet you’d be interested in.”

“I doubt he’d want to hear from me, of all people, especially if he’s as busy as he sounds,” Klavier chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Mr. Gavin,” Trucy teased, elbowing him again. “He only just told me yesterday that he misses you…‘in a weird way’. That’s practically a glowing review, coming from Polly!”

Klavier felt his heartbeat race once more. “Ah, well, then maybe I should consider it. How could I not, when I might get to hear such generous praise myself?” Trucy burst into laughter, her face finally relaxing for the first time since Klavier had approached her.

They lingered in companionable silence for a moment, hearing nothing but their own steadying breaths and the muffled sounds of what seemed like absolute chaos coming from inside Trucy’s dressing room. Klavier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why it sounded like Franziska was lecturing at least three different people at the same time. “Thanks for hearing me out, Mr. Gavin.”

“Bitte schön, though I’m not sure if I was any help at all,” Klavier admitted.

“Of course you were!” Trucy exclaimed, straightening up. “I feel better now, honest. Just talking about all that stuff really helped, even if I’m still not exactly sure what to do.”

“Hopefully you will soon, ja?” Klavier moved away from the wall, flashing her a genuine smile. “But if you ask me, you’re already doing a wunderschön job of upholding the Gramarye name, and I’m sure if you talk to Herr Wright about how you’re feeling, he’d say the same thing. Don’t be so hard on yourself, fräulein.”

Trucy hesitated. Then, she stepped forward to hug Klavier, holding him a little tighter than last time. He automatically held her closer, too. “See you tomorrow?” she mumbled against his shoulder.

“Of course,” Klavier promised. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

_____

“How is he doing, that defense attorney of yours?”

Klavier looked up from the box he was packing. He found it almost too easy to get distracted in here, to feel a wave of nostalgia crash over him as he packed away the books and toys that once filled his childhood playroom. There were already paint swatches on the wall, a collection of wood stain samples sitting by his feet, but he wasn’t quite ready to see it transformed into something else, for the room to belong to someone other than him. “He’s not mine, Mama, he’s just a friend. And he’s fine, if a little stressed. Er, make that a lot stressed.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Even just hearing it secondhand, I can tell that boy needs a break.”

“I’ve told him as much,” Klavier said dryly. “We talk most days, you know. He’s just stubborn, won’t listen to anyone - least of all me.”

“If you talk most days, then he must listen to you to some degree, yes?” she pointed out, momentarily crossing the room so she could crack open a window. “How long has he been away now?”

“Almost seven months, I think,” Klavier replied, turning back to what he was doing. “Though we’ve been talking for...around three at this point. If it wasn’t for Trucy, I...I don’t think I would have ever tried. Even now, I feel like I take up too much of his time when he could be going to bed early or doing something more productive.”

“Ah, Klavier.” He looked back up to see his mother had returned to his side; her hand went to the top of his head, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Why is it so hard for you to understand when people care about you, hm? Aside from the screaming fans, I mean.”

“Mama,” Klavier complained, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Achtung, it’s nothing like that. All I’m saying is, we were never close to begin with. I’m sure he’d rather talk to Trucy or get his advice from Herr Wright.”

Frowning, she withdrew her hand from Klavier’s hair. “I don’t know what I would say to that man if I were to ever meet him. Where would I even begin?”

“I...ah…” Klavier busied himself with the collection of picture books he’d been rifling through earlier, smiling faintly at the sight of his name scrawled on the inside covers in barely legible chicken scratch. “...I have that same thought, and I see him all the time. I suppose an apology is in order, but...I don’t know if he would even want to hear it.”

“To think Kris ruined far more lives than just the ones he’d taken,” she whispered, slowly sinking down to sit beside him. “To think he’d taken any lives at all, I - ”

“Mama, bitte - ”

“What did we do, Klavier?” she said forlornly, her voice thick with emotion. “Where did we go wrong? What could we have - ”

“Mama, Mama, breathe,” Klavier murmured, rubbing her back soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault, ja? Not yours, not Papa’s. Just his, and...a little bit of mine.”

“Hardly,” she insisted. She then cupped his face in her hands, looking up at him with watery eyes and a bittersweet smile. “Don’t let anyone blame you for what he did, darling, especially not yourself. Promise?”

“Ich verspreche,” Klavier said obediently, tilting his chin down so she could kiss his forehead. She then released him with a satisfied nod, turning back the box she’d been working on earlier; in doing so, she missed the way Klavier’s face fell. He cleared his throat. “So...a crafting room, ja? What kind of projects did you have in mind?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, humming. “I want to try a few things - cross-stitching, beadwork, paper crafting...we’ll have to see what sticks. If any of them stick.”

“You’re not retired yet, Mama,” Klavier reminded her. “I’m exhausted just listening to you and Papa talk about what you’ve been up to - I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re exhausted? I’m exhausted just listening to what you’ve been up to,” she teased. “You’re not the only prosecutor in the district, baby, so why do you work like you are? Go out, live a little. Or stay in, I suppose, whatever you prefer.”

“I like being busy,” Klavier said defensively. “And I enjoy my work, you know that.”

“I just wish you enjoyed more than just working, that’s all,” she said, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “You know what they say - don’t turn your hobbies into a career. But you went ahead and did that anyway, and now you don’t have any hobbies left!”

“I have plenty of hobbies, danke very much,” Klavier chuckled. “Cooking, working out...and I’m not exactly in the music business anymore, so I’d say that’s back to being a hobby, ja?”

“How about friends?” she suggested. “All I hear about is the people who work for you or the people who work with you.”

“That’s just how it goes,” Klavier said with a rueful grimace. “Making friends as an adult...it’s hard. But I mean it, mir geht's gut. You have nothing to worry about, not with me.”

“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But I’m going to worry, anyway.” She then stood, smoothing out the front of her shirt. “We should probably get going with lunch before your papa gets home, yes? We’ll continue with this later.”

“Ja, Mama, natürlich,” Klavier replied, also getting to his feet. He cast one last lingering glance in the direction of the picture books - for it wasn’t just his messy, childish handwriting inside, but Kristoph’s neat cursive as well - before following her out into the hallway.

_____

Time, Klavier mused to himself every so often, never really made sense to him. He liked being on time, of course, he liked the precision of it, especially when it came to music. He was proud of his natural affinity for rhythm, for keeping time. It was why he excelled at piano and guitar lessons at an early age, why the numerous vocal coaches he’d had in his life found him particularly easy to work with. But it always caught him off-guard whenever things seemed to speed up or slow down or even come to a complete standstill whenever they pleased. Twenty-four years of his life, changed, when he learned about his brother’s true nature. Seven years of his band, gone, when his best friend turned out to be a criminal as well. And now, an entire year that felt like five, all because Apollo wasn’t here.

“You should just ask him out already,” Ema had said to him one evening, over drinks. “I know his name is misleading, but he’s just a person, not a god. What’re you so scared of?”

“I’m not fond of wasps or small spaces,” Klavier had drawled, smirking at Ema’s infuriated scowl as he took a sip of his beer. Still, he knew she had a point. As blunt as Apollo could be, Klavier doubted he would be cruel about turning someone down. It also didn’t help that these days, he was starting to get his hopes up, now that he and Apollo talked on a daily basis. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened, aside from Trucy’s encouragement and his own impulses, but he couldn’t be more thrilled that it had.

“Two more months until I’m out of here...I think,” Apollo amended, yawning, his face filling up Klavier’s entire laptop screen. He looked good, Klavier though, even better than usual - during his time in Khura’in, Apollo had gotten more sun; his skin was a few shades darker, his freckles especially more prominent across the bridge of his nose. His hair was longer, too, mostly in the back, and his wardrobe had slowly evolved into an aesthetically pleasing mix of American street style and Khura’inese casualwear. Apollo had also mentioned a few times that he had built up some muscle, especially in his calves and shoulders, now that he had to walk everywhere and carry his fully-loaded bag wherever he went. Klavier tried not to think about how much he was looking forward to seeing it for himself in person.

“You’re sure now?” Klavier asked. “You’ve said that before.”

“Pretty sure,” Apollo said, chuckling. “Nahyuta even bought me a plane ticket, like he can’t wait for me to leave.”

“I’m sure he’ll miss you all the same,” Klavier replied. “And he’s used to flying back and forth, so I doubt you’ll be apart for long.”

“I think I’m gonna miss him, too,” Apollo admitted, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. It always gave Klavier a little thrill whenever he saw Apollo wearing it - after all, it was once his, having sent it to Apollo via a care package that Trucy had put together a while ago. Though their upper bodies were comparable in width, Apollo was significantly shorter, which meant the hoodie seemed to completely swallow him up. “It’s weird, looking back on it. How different we were when we were kids - like, both as people and as brothers - and yet...some things never changed. I don’t even know how to explain it, I just...I just know.”

“Something only the two of you can understand, I’m sure,” Klavier said diplomatically. He’d heard many stories about Apollo and Nahyuta’s childhood by now, sometimes accompanied by the occasional mention of Dhurke. Even now, he found it hard to picture; he wasn’t too familiar with Nahyuta, but the thought of him and Apollo chasing each other across mountainous hills or searching for frogs along the riverbanks seemed unlikely, yet it happened all the same. “You have a good relationship with him by now, I take it?”

“Definitely,” Apollo nodded. He then leaned in close to the camera, his voice dropping to an exaggerated whisper. “I’ve even grown on Rayfa, and though she'll never admit it, I think she kinda misses Mr. Wright.”

Klavier laughed. “Charmed her, have you? I’m not surprised. You can be...persuasive when you want to be.”

“You make me sound like a conman,” Apollo snorted, leaning back in his seat. “Give me a little credit, will you?”

“Ja, ja, fair enough,” Klavier said, holding his hands up in surrender. “After all, you did have a client ask you out once. Clearly, you have some natural appeal.”

“It’s happened twice, actually,” Apollo said, shuddering. “I don’t know what I did to make either of ‘em think I was remotely interested, but I shut them down fast.”

“You saved their lives,” Klavier pointed out. “It might be their...misguided way of showing their gratitude. Besides, you’re not half-bad. Some might even say you’re...attractive.”

“And the compliments just keep on rolling in.” Apollo got up from his seat, momentarily blocking the camera as he unplugged his laptop from its charger and carried it over to his bed. He sat cross-legged by his pillows, yawning and stretching luxuriously. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, Gavin.”

“If you’re fishing for praise, Forehead, you only have to ask,” Klavier teased. “Let’s see, should we talk about the impressive way that your voice cracks every so often when you shout, which is all the time? What about the fact that you only seem to own one tie in the most outlandish shade of blue I’ve ever seen? Or how, every single time, without fail, you always push on the courthouse entrance doors despite the fact that they’re clearly marked ‘pull’ - ”

“You are such a dick,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head.

“ - you managed to get food poisoning at two different events for the prosecutor’s office,” Klavier continued; if he wasn’t enjoying himself earlier, he certainly was now. “Ah, remember that time you ripped your pants at a crime scene? Good thing it was a thrift store, ja? But if you ask me, corduroy bell bottoms don’t quite suit you. You don’t have the height for flared hems.”

“...I think you’ve gone just a little off-track here,” Apollo drawled. “Take it back now, Gavin, you were s’posed to be saying nice stuff, remember? Like, tell me I’m good at my job or something.”

“You make the perfekt lawyer,” Klavier said in the most serious tone he could muster, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. “After all, you just love to pick a fight.”

“Don’t think I won’t hang up on you,” Apollo said, yawning again as he half-flopped over onto his side, pillowing his hands beneath his cheek. For what felt like the thousandth time, Klavier found himself wishing he was in Khura’in, too.

“You say that every time, and you’ve never followed through,” Klavier reminded him. “Fine, you want a real compliment, Forehead?”

“That’s what I was asking for,” Apollo mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled.

“I think…” Klavier hesitated. “I think you might be one of my favorite people in the whole world.”

Apollo’s eyes flew open. “Huh? You...y-you really think so?”

“Would I be talking to you all the time if you weren’t?” Klavier chuckled. “How much free time do you think I have on my hands, hm?”

“Yeah, but - b-but still,” Apollo protested weakly. Klavier delighted in the way Apollo’s cheeks reddened, the way his nose scrunched up, the way his brows furrowed in an attempt to look irritated instead of embarrassed. “We only really became friends, like, uh...eight-ish months ago, so…”

“So nichts,” Klavier said derisively. “I say what I mean and I mean what I say, ja?”

Apollo shot him a drowsy smile. “Thanks, Gavin. It’s...actually kinda flattering.” He yawned yet again, curling up on top of his pillows. “Hey, I just remembered - you had your evaluation with Mr. Edgeworth just now, right? How’d that go, did you get three gold stars and an extra cookie to go with your juicebox like you wanted?”

“Call the prosecutor’s office a preschool just one time, all because Herr Debeste decided to bring Ritz crackers to the office potluck, and now you can’t let it go...and move on,” Klavier added, smirking; Apollo lifted a hand to flip him off. “It’s the usual with Herr Edgeworth, really - ‘excellent work, Prosecutor Gavin, nothing new to report’. Whenever I ask him if there’s anything more I can do, any way in which I can improve...I get nothing. It’s like he wants me out of his office as soon as possible.”

“I doubt it,” Apollo said quietly. “I know you keep saying over and over again that he blames you for what happened to Mr. Wright - but he doesn’t. Even if he did at one point, no one does anymore, alright? We know what happened, we know who it was, a-and it wasn’t you.” He propped himself up on his elbow, looking Klavier right in the eye. “Mr. Edgeworth doesn’t have suggestions for you ‘cos...you’re good at what you do. Somehow, you, Mister Euro-Rocker, are the most normal person at the prosecutor’s office. All anyone can accuse you of is, like, self-promotion, grandstanding, and wall slamming. Why do you do that, anyway?”

“I had a kickboxing phase,” Klavier said, laughing wetly. “That was surprisingly touching, Forehead, danke. Don’t we all aspire to be ‘the most normal person’ in any situation, achtung.”

“So you’re saying in some alternate universe, you would leg slam the prosecutor’s bench instead?” Apollo said dryly. “What would that even look like?”

“Gott if I know,” Klavier replied, continuing to laugh. “Anyway, should I let you go now? You look like you’re going to fall asleep at any second.”

“I’m fine.” Apollo slumped back down against his pillows, then let out an exaggerated exhale. “Though I wouldn’t, uh. I wouldn’t complain if you sang me to sleep, either.”

Klavier straightened up in his seat, surprised. “Again? I didn’t think you actually meant it last time, until it worked.”

“Your voice is, y’know...decent,” Apollo said, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “I have to listen to it for, like, two hours a day, after all. Going on and on about ‘ah, Herr Forehead, my bike didn’t start again’, or ‘I got a free drink at the courthouse café because the cute barista recognized me, can you believe it’ - oh, and we can’t forget the classic ‘you wouldn’t believe how terrible my hair looks today, I don’t know if I should turn my camera on’ - ”

“I take offense to that last one,” Klavier protested. “You’ve done the exact same thing to me! Remember when there was a thunderstorm - ”

“A Khura’inese thunderstorm, one of the worst the country’s ever seen, versus you having a, quote-unquote, ‘bad hair day’ ‘cos you woke up on the wrong side of the silk pillowcase. Very comparable,” Apollo drawled. “Go on, then, Gavin, give me a lullaby.”

Klavier steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Then, in the throatiest, most operatic voice he could muster, he began to sing. “Guten abend, gut nacht, mit rosen bedacht - ”

“Screw off, you - ” Apollo was doubled over, clutching at his stomach; the sound of his laugh, as cliché as it was, was music to Klavier’s ears. “Shit, I-I can’t even be mad at that one, that was on me. Okay, let’s not do a lullaby, just give me, like...something slow.”

Klavier hummed thoughtfully as he watched Apollo settle back down, drawing his duvet up over his shoulders. “Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday...dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way…” It didn’t take long for Apollo to fall asleep, his breath slowly evening out as he did. He looked peaceful in a way that he never did when he was awake. Smiling to himself, Klavier went to end the call. “Gute Nacht, liebe.”

_____

“For the love of everything, can you please stop bouncing your leg like that?”

“Ah - ” Klavier clamped his hand down onto his thigh, offering her a nervous smile. “My apologies, fräulein, I didn’t realize it was so cold in here. Does Herr Wright have a habit of leaving the air conditioning on? I didn’t think this office even had air conditioning, to be honest.”

Ema side-eyed him derisively; the effect was slightly ruined by the huge bouquet of roses she had sitting in her lap. They were practically tickling her chin. “...cold, right. That’s what’s going on, not the fact that we’re here to surprise Apollo on his way back from the airport.”

Klavier was very tempted to glare back. He liked to think he was an amiable person, but Ema challenged that notion every time they spoke. “Why did you decide to return early, anyway? Was Herr Sahdmadhi getting on your nerves?”

“Oh, please,” Ema snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, you’re still the problem child of the prosecutor’s office to me. No, I left early ‘cos...well, because I could. Besides, I missed this one over here.” She lightly elbowed the person on her other side, who giggled sweetly in response.

“Long-distance suuucks,” Kay agreed, dropping her head onto Ema’s shoulder and shooting her an affectionate grin. “Now that Em’s back for good, we can finally look into getting a place together!”

“Have you started yet?” Klavier asked, curious. “Because my area has a few - ”

“Um, I-I think a taxi just pulled up outside!” Klavier turned to squint through the darkness in the direction of the front window, where Juniper, Vera, and the Fey women were hidden, lifting their heads every so often to peek through the blinds. Thankfully, Vera seemed less nervous around him these days; he hated the thought of making her uncomfortable, especially when there was nothing he could do about it but wait. He’d tried approaching her on the rare occasions they were in the same room together, but more often than not, they both ended up tongue-tied. “I see Thena, and Apollo, and Trucy...oh, there’s Mr. Wright! I think Trucy made him tip the driver extra, heh.”

Klavier’s heart seemed to be in his throat as he, Ema, and Kay crouched down behind Apollo’s desk, while the others went to duck behind Phoenix’s and Athena’s desks as well. It had been so long, so long that he’d nearly forgotten some of the little things that just didn’t quite translate via phone call or video chat - how tall Apollo really was, how loud he could truly be; the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed, or how he absent-mindedly played with his bracelet more often than Klavier suspected he realized himself. He had to stop himself from letting out a hysterical laugh when he remembered how, the last time he saw Apollo in person, he’d flipped Klavier off. How appropriate, Klavier thought somewhat dazedly, shaking his head. And now -

“...huh, so I really did leave my jacket here. Guess it doesn’t matter since I never wore it, anyway. I’m more of a suit vest kinda guy, you know? So, what are we - ” The light flickered on. All at once, the agency seemed to explode with noise as everyone jumped out from behind the desks.

“SURPRISE!” Several party poppers, courtesy of Maya and Kay, went off simultaneously, which only added to the chaos.

“ - argh - what the - ?!”

“Wh-whoa, Polly, watch your head! You almost knocked over Mr. Charley!”

“Forget Charley, I-I almost twisted my ankle just now, shit - ” Apollo managed to find his footing again, half-leaning against the back of the couch to keep himself propped up while he caught his breath, his hand clasped over his presumably racing heart. Klavier could only stare at him, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. Ema was side-eyeing him again, but by now, he really didn’t care.

Of course, Klavier had known for a few weeks now that today was the day, but to see Apollo standing - well, somewhat collapsing - in front of him was something else entirely. Clearly, Apollo’s laptop webcam and spotty internet connection hadn’t done him justice, not the healthy glow of his skin, nor the shine of his hair. He was wearing a Khura’inese tunic and joggers with both the sleeves and pant hems rolled up, revealing just how muscular he’d become. However, what intrigued Klavier most of all was the familiar-looking hoodie in Apollo’s arms.

“Hey, stranger,” Ema said, lightly punching Apollo in the shoulder, then unceremoniously shoving the bouquet of roses into his arms despite the fact he was still holding the handle of his rolling luggage bag. He nearly dropped it on his own foot in an attempt to grab the flowers in time. “It’s weird, right? I’m still getting used to, like, mega-grocery stores and smog all over again.”

“Considering I’ve only been inside an airport, a taxi, and the agency so far, I can’t say I’ve had time to adjust, no,” Apollo said dryly. He then frowned. “Er, Ms. Fey, a-are you filming all this?”

Maya grinned almost manically over the top of her phone. “Yup! Blame Trucy and Athena - they wanted to get your reaction on camera, and ooh, you did not disappoint.”

Apollo deflated even further. “...glad I could entertain you all.” He then straightened up, approaching Juniper and Vera first to chat with them amicably while the others fell back to talk amongst themselves. Trucy sidled up next to Klavier with the brightest grin she’d had in months.

“I still can’t believe he’s finally here,” Trucy admitted. “It was starting to feel like he was never coming back, you know?”

“He looks...surprisingly refreshed for someone who’s been sitting on a plane for Gott knows how long,” Klavier chuckled, smoothing out the creases in the front of his shirt. He then shot Trucy a soft smile. “You must be thrilled.”

“Ecstatic!” Trucy chirped, nodding enthusiastically. “There are some tricks Athena just refuses to help with, but I bet Apollo wouldn’t mind if I volunteered him for the job!”

“That’s not the only reason you missed him and you know it,” Klavier said gently.

Trucy’s cheeks reddened; she shot him a sheepish smile. “...I-I may have cried at the airport. It was a total mess, ‘cos me and Athena were crying, and then Apollo started crying, and there was tears and snot everywhere, a-and Daddy got it all on tape, too. He said it was like we were trying to set the record for world’s longest hug!”

“That’s very sweet, fräulein,” Klavier murmured. “I’m sure it was quite the scene.”

“What was quite the scene?” They startled at the sound of a new voice, turning to see Apollo standing before them. The first thing Klavier couldn’t help but think, stupidly enough, was that Apollo looked taller somehow - he seemed to be holding his head higher, his chest prouder, though it also helped that he was wearing a heavy pair of brown leather boots with a thick sole. Klavier’s heart thumped pathetically in his chest at the sight of Apollo’s warm, curious eyes, now fixed on his face in confusion.

“Your reunion, or so I hear,” Klavier said smoothly, taking a few steps closer. His eyes flickered down to Apollo’s arms, half-folded in front of his torso; he was still holding onto the hoodie. “And I see I’ve done a good job of keeping you warm while you were away, Herr Forehead.” He sensed Trucy, Ema, and Kay exchanging bewildered glances behind him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I got some pretty nice handmade blankets in Khura’in,” Apollo chuckled, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his unstyled hair. Klavier was more used to seeing it without gel than with it at this point, given how most of their video calls had taken place during Apollo’s evenings. “But, uh...thanks. You sure you don’t want it back?”

“Ah, nein, it’s all yours now,” Klavier replied. “But if you’re in need of more clothes that aren’t from the children’s section, I’d be more than happy to provide.”

Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “You’re such a dick.” Then, to just about everyone’s surprise, he took the last few steps to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Klavier, burying his face against Klavier’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “...it’s good to see you, Gavin.”

Klavier stood still for a moment, stunned, before returning the hug, holding him tighter than either of them expected, resting his chin on top of Apollo’s head. He smelled faintly of fruit and dirt and sweat, though Klavier didn’t mind one bit. “Ich habe dich vermisst,” he mumbled into Apollo’s hair, letting out a relieved exhale. “I’m glad you’re back.”

A little over an hour later, their rather large group of people - made even larger with the addition of Edgeworth and Simon, who had been held up in a work incident that, from the sound of it, was entirely Payne’s fault - found themselves at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant, arguing over whether to order more salmon or more unagi while they drank beer, or in Trucy and Pearl’s case, soda. Their table was crowded, to be sure, and it was definitely the loudest in the entire restaurant, but with Edgeworth footing the bill, insisting no expense be spared, their servers didn’t seem to mind too much.

“God, you’re obvious.” Klavier turned to see Ema pointing her chopsticks at him rather threateningly. “Y’know, if you wanted to sit with Apollo, you should’ve just said so instead of sitting here and staring at him like a pining Austen heroine.”

“You really should be careful with those,” Klavier commented, gently pushing her hand away. “And it’s fine, he obviously wants to sit with Trucy and Athena. We have time to chat later, ja?”

Sighing, Ema turned back to her plate, stuffing a piece of tamago into her mouth in the most irritated manner Klavier had ever seen someone eat. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” she said, taking a generous gulp of her beer. “Look, Gavin, I - you know I was there, on the other end of things. I saw how...how happy he looked after your phone calls, whenever you sent him a text...all I’m saying is, sitting around and doing nothing like you did before? You really think that’s gonna work?”

“The last thing he needs is for me to bother him while he’s still settling in,” Klavier said diplomatically. “Like I said, we’ll have time to talk...later. Let him breathe, bitte. He literally just got here.”

Ema’s mouth twisted. “I really don’t get you sometimes.” She seemed to be talking more to herself than to Klavier now. “Like, I’m trying to imagine some world in which I don’t tell Kay how I feel about her, and...I can’t do it. It’s physically, emotionally, scientifically impossible. My entire life would be different, you know?”

“With you and Kay, you knew the feeling was mutual from the start, ja?” Klavier glanced across the table, where Apollo was cracking up over some joke Athena had just told. “As for me...I still can’t be sure. Even with what you just said, it’s no guarantee. And I think, for the time being, we’re...we’re glücklich this way. We’re friends. Close friends, even.”

“He talked to you more than everyone else combined,” Ema reminded him. “I only managed to talk to Kay maybe twice a week if we were lucky.” Kay leaned around Ema to nod affirmatively in Klavier’s direction, a stray udon noodle hanging from her mouth. “But whatever, I’m really only telling you for Apollo’s sake. If this was just about you, I guarantee I wouldn’t care.”

“Sure, fräulein, whatever you say,” Klavier chuckled. “So, you were saying something earlier about apartments - ”

“Hey, Gavin.” Once again, Klavier nearly gave himself whiplash at the sound of Apollo’s voice; he wasn’t sure when Apollo had gotten out of his seat and come to their side of the table, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. “Sorry to interrupt, it’s just - can I talk to you for a sec? Outside, maybe?”

“Er - ja, sure.” Klavier shot Ema an apologetic smile, though she’d already gone back to stealing pieces of ginger off of Kay’s plate. He then followed Apollo through the restaurant and out the front door, the two of them coming to a stop on the sidewalk. “What’s this all about, then?”

“Nothing, I just - I needed some air,” Apollo admitted, taking a generous deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I-I’m glad to see everyone again, but it’s a little...crowded back there. And loud.”

“Very true,” Klavier agreed, leaning against the exterior wall. “So...I’m surprised you’re still standing. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Ridiculously so,” Apollo chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll crash in like, a few hours. Mr. Wright’s couch could be a literal rock, and I’ll still be out cold for the next...I dunno, week? Month?”

“You mentioned something about getting an apartment in your old building, ja?” Klavier mused. “When’s that happening?”

“I move in next week...if I’m awake by then, that is,” Apollo added dryly. He then smirked. “You offering to help, Gavin?”

Klavier leaned in close, his own teasing smile playing on his lips. “If you want me, just let me know, Herr Forehead.” He couldn’t help but feel a little thrill go through him when Apollo’s pupils darkened considerably in response.

“I’ll, uh...I’ll keep that in mind,” Apollo replied, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. Klavier found himself momentarily distracted by the motion. “Hey, uh - what were you and Ema talking about before I cut in?”

Klavier paused for a little longer than he would've liked. “I...was asking her about her plans to find a new place with Kay. To be honest, I’m surprised it’s only happening now. They’ve been together for years, after all.”

“True, but...if it works for them, I guess,” Apollo shrugged. “Did you guys ever get around to playing laser tag?”

Klavier blinked. “Entschuldigung?”

“Before we left, remember?” Apollo said, biting back a laugh. “Ema told me to ask you if you wanted to do drinks or laser tag, so did you and Kay...y’know, hang out without us? Or have you been waiting for us to get back?”

“Ah, that,” Klavier said, laughing as well. “Nein, we never did get around to it, though we’ve had the occasional drink together. Remember that story I told you a few months ago, the one where she - ”

“ - where she got kicked out of the bar ‘cos she accidentally gave them a fake ID she’d been holding onto as evidence, yeah,” Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds like something that could literally happen to any of us.” He straightened up, taking a couple of steps back so he could clear his throat. “Anyway, we should hang out after I recover from my inevitable jetlag. Like, the four of us, I mean.”

“Er - right, ja, the four of us,” Klavier nodded, faltering slightly. Apollo looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything, instead turning his gaze towards the street for a moment, watching the cars and the occasional motorcycle go by. Klavier supposed he was still getting used to all the noise again, or rather, the different kinds of noise. He’d heard the evening sounds of Khura’in through the phone many times, especially when Apollo went for a late-night walk and “brought” Klavier with him for company. It had been relatively peaceful, serene, in a way that California was decidedly not. “Apollo, I...do you want to…maybe we could...”

“Yeah?” Apollo looked up at him, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Klavier coughed. “...never mind. Maybe another time, when you��re not so tired, ja?”

“Oh.” Apollo frowned slightly. “Uh, sure.” He then brightened, gently nudging Klavier’s arm. “Hey, but maybe we can make a thing out of my move-in day, make it a casual housewarming hangout or whatever. You interested?”

“Always,” Klavier said softly, nudging him back. Grinning, Apollo wordlessly beckoned for Klavier to follow him back inside, back to their table. He didn’t need to glance in Ema’s direction to know she looked as disappointed in him as he felt.

_____

“Ach, Klavier. You’re pouting more than your cousin Ingrid, and she’s barely seven years old.”

Klavier looked up from his glass to shoot his father an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Papa. It’s just - the timing is unfortunate, you know? Er, not that I don’t want to be here. Anja and her new bride look wunderschön, and it’s been so long since we’ve had a wedding in the family - ”

“Now you sound like your Uncle Oskar,” his father chuckled, clapping Klavier good-naturedly on the shoulder. The two of them were standing in what looked and felt like a fairytale, in a sea of blossoming flowers and sparkling lights on a beautiful, crisp Saturday morning. In the distance, Klavier could see his cousin - or was she a second cousin, or a cousin once removed, he could never remember - and her wife posing for their wedding photographer by the park gazebo, while everyone else not-so-patiently waited to be called over for group photographs. All of the younger ones were especially moody, especially the aforementioned Ingrid, who had fallen and scraped her knee mere minutes before the ceremony. The poor girl had refused to let anyone put a bandaid on her, electing to sulk in silent solitude on a park bench instead. “I know you wanted to be with your friends today, but...there will be other days, yes?”

“Ja, ja, ich weiß,” Klavier replied. “Today is Apollo’s little housewarming get-together, it would've been nice to be there. But still, I wouldn’t miss Anja’s wedding for the world.” He then swallowed, glancing down at his feet. “That is, that’s how I felt before we got here. But achtung, now I feel like a caged animal. After all this time, do they really think - ”

“Not one person here thinks you’re going the same way,” his father interjected sharply, his eyes fierce behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “You’re not him. You’re not. But their stares...unfortunately, I don’t think it can be helped.”

“The questions were so simple before,” Klavier muttered. “Remember when I came back for a couple of weeks, between legs of the Gavinners’ European tour, for cousin Leo’s wedding? All anyone wanted to know was - ‘ah, Klavier, how is your band doing? Are you still a prosecutor? When are you getting married?’. And now it’s - it’s ‘what’s going to happen to him now?’ and ‘what exactly is this dark age of the law everyone’s been talking about?’ and ‘did you know the whole time?’. It’s endless, ach.”

“Klavier - ”

“I didn’t ask for my life to revolve around his, okay?” Klavier managed to stop himself before he could shout; instead, his voice came out as a harsh whisper. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice, carrying on with their conversations while they waited for the newlyweds to call on them. “So if people are going to continue to talk, to stare, then I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it. If I can’t have a normal conversation with my family members that aren’t you or Mama, then…” He shook his head; his hand was trembling, his champagne sloshing over the edge of his flute.

Sighing, his father squeezed Klavier’s shoulder a little firmer now. “...I can tell them you have a migraine if you’d like. Or how about a stomach bug? Though maybe a work emergency would sound a little more...dignified.”

Klavier let out a watery chuckle, clasping his hand over his father’s. “Danke, Papa, I appreciate it, but it’s fine. This is Anja’s day, not a day for me to whine and fuss. I can grin and bear it for her, ich verspreche. And I apologize for my...outburst.” His father shot him a sympathetic smile, then turned back to watch the happy couple while they waited for Klavier’s mother to return from the bathroom.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Klavier collapsed face-first onto his bed, only to sit up in a panic for a moment, thinking he’d just smeared a full face of makeup onto his freshly-washed silk pillowcases, before remembering he’d managed to trudge his way through his skincare routine just moments ago. With a weary groan, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text message; mere seconds later, his phone began to ring.

“Forehead? I didn’t actually expect you to be up.”

“Mik’s being a literal scaredy-cat about living in a new place, so I’m probably not gonna be able to sleep anytime soon,” Apollo said with a weary sigh. “So, how was the rest of the wedding? All the photos you sent looked incredible!”

“What can I say? Gavins have good taste,” Klavier replied, chuckling. He rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. “It was...perfekt, the epitome of classic fairytale romance, really. The kind of wedding you see in children’s books, you know?”

“Sure.” Apollo’s voice was warm in Klavier’s ear. “Hey - you, uh, you okay? You sound...off.”

“Ja, ja, I’m just tired,” Klavier said, frowning slightly at his outstretched hand. Despite getting them done yesterday, his nails were already starting to chip. “How long did everyone end up staying for?”

“They left a little before midnight,” Apollo replied, yawning. “Trucy has a matinee show tomorrow - or today, I guess - or else she probably would’ve insisted on sleeping over. Would’ve been kinda nice, actually, i-it’s always a little weird being alone in a new place for the first time. Though I guess this makes up for it.”

“What makes up for it?” Klavier asked, confused.

Apollo snorted. “This phone call, you dork. It’s like last year all over again, except we’re finally in the same time zone now.”

“Ah - right,” Klavier said, letting out an awkward laugh. “Ja, this is nice, though...I assume we’re not making this a habit again, are we?”

“Nah, definitely not. But, y’know, every now and then for old time’s sake? I wouldn’t, uh, I wouldn’t mind it.” Klavier shivered. Apollo’s voice had dropped to a low murmur; it almost sounded as if he were in the room with him. Klavier remembered Apollo making a snarky comment or two whenever he caught a glimpse of Klavier’s apartment during their video calls, leaving him to wonder whether Apollo would ever want to see it for himself. “So, you wanna do something next week? I’m still on co-counsel duty until I’m ready to take my own cases again, so my schedule’s not too hectic.”

“What did you have in mind?” Klavier hummed.

“I’m up for whatever - er, within reason,” Apollo added. “It could, well. It could even be just you and me, if you want.”

Klavier’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. “...I think I’d like that, ja. Drinks, maybe? Friday?”

“Yeah, uh - ” Apollo cleared his throat. “ - yeah, sounds good. Text me the time and place whenever, okay? Though I guess we’re probably gonna see each other before then, so.”

“Definitely,” Klavier said quietly, sucking in a breath to stop himself from making a potentially embarrassing noise - a squeak of joy, maybe, or a nervous laugh; either one would be terrible. “Should I let you go, then? We didn’t usually talk this late, even when you were on the other side of the world.”

“Very true,” Apollo said, punctuating Klavier’s point by yawning again. “I think Mik’s finally settled down, anyway.” Then, he seemed to hesitate. “...you sure you’re good, Gavin?”

“Mir geht's gut,” Klavier promised. This time, it felt more like the truth. Though his quiet anger from earlier hadn’t quite dissipated, he was calmer now, more at ease. “Family events just take a lot out of me, that’s all. Inevitable, given how big my extended family is.”

Apollo fell silent for a moment. “Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I, uh...I wouldn’t know.”

“I think it depends on the family,” Klavier admitted. This time, both of them went quiet, contemplating Klavier’s sentiment. “...anyway, let’s not carry on and ruin our sleep schedules, ja? Gute Nacht, Forehead.”

“G’night, Gavin,” Apollo said softly. “Talk to you tomorrow.” Despite the usual raspy quality of Apollo’s voice, not to mention how sharp it could get, Klavier found it immensely comforting at times, its warmth like a thick blanket - or, more accurately, an oversized hoodie. Mere minutes after they hung up, Klavier drifted off into a deep, restful sleep.

_____

Friday, it seemed, was not meant to be. Much to Klavier’s quiet disappointment - though obviously, he understood, given the circumstances - Apollo had to cancel their plans after getting some truly life-changing news.

“I-I don’t even know where to begin,” Apollo had stammered on the phone, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. “I - she’s my - a-and her eyes - sh-she came to see us, me a-and - ”

“Slow down, Apollo, slow down,” Klavier had said gently. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Apollo had taken a big, shuddering inhale. Then, he spoke again. “...Trucy is my little sister...a-and Lamiroir is...she’s...she’s...she’s Thalassa Gramarye. Our mother.”

The news traveled quickly throughout their social circle; naturally, it was Trucy who told everyone else, while Apollo still seemed to be reeling in shock. No one seemed to know what to say, not with everything they knew about the twists and turns and tragedies of their respective family histories. A week passed, then another, and another, as the two Gramarye siblings took some time off to reunite with their mother. Klavier dropped by the Wright Anything Agency every so often, hoping to see how they were doing, only to find just Phoenix and Athena there.

“Apollo almost punched me...again,” Phoenix had said quietly. If it wasn't for the seriousness of his expression, Klavier would've asked about the first time. “It’s because I knew. I knew a long time ago. And Trucy, she can’t seem to decide whether she’s upset with me or not. Can’t say I blame her, though Thalassa and I had our reasons.”

“I’m sure you did, Herr Wright,” Klavier had replied sincerely, though he didn’t push further. After all, it wasn’t his family drama this time, and as far as he was concerned, knowing what their reasons were wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Phoenix had then paused. “She told me she talked to you, by the way. Trucy, that is.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Even when she didn’t know, it was like...like she already knew. But I shouldn’t be surprised, not with her. Never with her.” Clearing his throat, he shot Klavier a gentle, genuine smile. “Thanks for being there for her, Prosecutor Gavin. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Klavier had promised. “Herr Wright, before I go, I really should say something - ”

“If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do...there’s no need,” Phoenix had interrupted, though not unkindly. “I’ve said it a few times, but I’ll say it again. Let’s put the past behind us, alright?”

Klavier had been taken aback. “...if you’re sure, then...ja, I hear you.”

Almost four weeks after Thalassa returned to her children’s lives, Klavier finally saw Apollo again, during a brief one-day trial. Once Apollo got his client acquitted, the two of them took a moment to sit on the courthouse steps together in stilted silence. “How is she?” Klavier asked. “How are you?”

“She’s…” Apollo sucked his breath in between his teeth. “...she’s still figuring things out. Remembering stuff. Trying to, uh...trying to learn how to be a mom to two adult children who...who grew up without her. And I dunno if it’s harder for me, o-or for Trucy, because I accepted my whole life that...that my mom just wasn’t around. But Trucy lost her. She knew her, loved her, lost her...and now she’s back. Not that it’s a competition, it’s just…” He managed to give Klavier a small smile. “We’ll be fine. It’s just weird and confusing a-and...but we’re fine. Sorry I’ve been so - ”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Klavier said, gently nudging him. “So, are you going to see her again today?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna drop by for dinner tonight,” Apollo replied. “We’ll hang out again soon, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about me, Forehead. Take care of yourself first, ja?” Klavier chuckled, patting Apollo’s knee. “Anyway, I should get going before the paparazzi catch wind of me. Auf Wiedersehen, baby. Have a good time tonight.” As he was leaving, he took a moment to watch Apollo walk over to the courthouse bike rack to join Trucy, who was patiently waiting for him. The moment she spotted him, she flung her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, as if they’d been apart for years and not mere minutes.

The days continued to go by without them seeing much of each other, though they did continue to text on a regular basis, even having the occasional late-night phone call or two. Klavier also managed to chat with Trucy when he dropped by the agency one afternoon in the hopes that she would be there.

“I’m okay,” Trucy had told him. “We’re still getting used to it, but it’s definitely one of the best surprises I’ve ever had! I’ve been saying this whole time that Polly’s like a little big brother to me, and now…”

“And now it’s true,” Klavier had remarked, laughing. “I’m happy for all of you, fräulein, truly. And thinking back...what a strange family reunion. All because I invited her to perform with the Gavinners. Er, not to make this about me, of course.”

“Of course,” Trucy had echoed, giggling as well. “You would never do that.”

Klavier had rolled his eyes good-naturedly, which only served to make her laugh even harder. His expression then sobered. “Have you told either of them about...what you told me and Herr Wright?”

“Huh?...o-oh. That.” Trucy had fiddled with the ends of her cape, eyes fixated on the toes of her boots. “No, n-not yet. It’s too early. We only just discovered the truth, why would I ruin that with my silly problems?”

“They’re not silly at all,” Klavier had reassured her. “They’re...I know a little something about family legacy. Carrying a name that belongs to someone else. Talk to them about it when the time is right, ja?”

“I know, I know,” Trucy had mumbled, her voice small. She then perked up, plastering on a false smile that Klavier was all too familiar with. “You should join us someday, Prosecutor Gavin! I’m sure she’d like to see you again, and Polly’s been dying to spend more time with you.”

Klavier felt warm. “Really? Did he say that?”

“Well, not in so many words,” Trucy had said sheepishly. “But we’ve been so busy with Mom lately that neither of us has really had time to hang out with people other than Daddy and Athena, y’know? So...maybe we could do another group dinner or something.”

And so, a little over a month and a half after their canceled plans, Trucy managed to get a smaller group of people together - her, Apollo, Athena, Klavier, Simon, Pearl, Juniper, Ema, and Kay, to be exact - for a rather chaotic visit to their nearest night market. Considering how narrow the pathways were, how packed the food stalls could be, it was hard for them to move as a collective through the crowds.

“We might have an easier time if we split up,” Apollo suggested. “And, uh, as a bonus, people would stop glaring at us for holding up literally every line.” And so, everyone divided themselves into pairs - or a trio, in Athena, Simon, and Juniper’s case - and went on their way.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Trucy?” Klavier asked once he and Apollo were in line for freshly-made takoyaki.

“Listen, and I say this with love, but I’ve been looking forward to hanging out with someone who isn’t Trucy for once,” Apollo said, chuckling. “Besides, we never got around to getting drinks. So let me pay for, like, a milk tea or something.”

“That’s hardly necessary, but danke,” Klavier said, smiling easily. “So, has it finally sunk in yet? Your newfound big brother status, that is.”

“Thankfully, not that kind of big brother,” Apollo said dryly. “Honestly, it hasn’t been that different. Me and Trucy have always looked out for each other, and...I dunno. We got attached pretty quickly, almost like we, uh...like we knew somehow. Like everything about our relationship made even more sense than before.” He then let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Never mind, that probably sounds really stupid - ”

“Nein, not at all,” Klavier murmured sympathetically.

“I don’t believe in fate or whatever, but...I couldn’t ask for a better sister,” Apollo admitted, his expression softening. “Though to be fair, I can ask said sister to stop dragging me on stage with her. I almost lost my eyebrows more than once, and once is already one time too many!”

“You did say better, not perfect,” Klavier teased, laughing. “So, what do you want to do tonight? Are we just stuffing our faces, or did you want to walk around? That bouncy castle looks sehr interessant.”

“Yeah, sure, if we wanna get kicked out,” Apollo snorted. “And I’m not sure yet, I was just gonna go with whatever everyone else wanted. When I used to come here all the time with...with…” His face fell. “Um. You know. He was so eager to try everything, I-I just let him drag me around. Literally.” Klavier looked away for a moment, unsure of what to say. Apollo then tugged on his sleeve so he would turn back, a small smile on his face. “Hey, c’mon. I’m the one who made it weird, don’t you make it weird, too.”

Klavier chuckled, placing his hand over Apollo’s and squeezing. “Why don’t you lead for a change? I mean it, Forehead, what do you want to do tonight?”

“Honestly? I just wanna eat and drink and laugh at the terrible knock-off merchandise with, uh. With you.” Apollo awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Before Klavier could respond, they’d reached the front of the line; Apollo turned to the merchant with a polite smile. “Hi, can we get one order of takoyaki, please? And can we get the sauces on the side?”

“Sure, that’ll be seven dollars,” the merchant replied. “Is this just for you, or are you sharing with your boyfriend?”

Apollo blinked. “Er, s-sorry?”

“I need to know how many toothpicks to give you,” the merchant said, shooting Apollo a strange look.

“I, uh…” Apollo cleared his throat. Klavier looked at him curiously, unsure if Apollo’s reaction was promising or worrying. “Yeah, we’re sharing.”

Once they received their order, they went to stand a little ways away from the crowd to eat and people-watch in companionable silence. Klavier stole the occasional glance in Apollo’s direction every so often, admiring how good he looked in a bucket hat, denim cutoffs, and of course, the hoodie he’d given him. Other than his signature red suit vest, it seemed to be the item of clothing he wore the most these days. Klavier wondered if it still smelled of his cologne, the cologne that Apollo claimed to hate.

“Gavin?” Apollo raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I, um...can I help you?”

“Ah - entschuldigung, I didn’t mean to stare,” Klavier said, ducking his head in embarrassment. “It just surprises me whenever you wear that, you know? Surely, you have other hoodies.”

“I’ve just gotten used to it, I guess,” Apollo shrugged. “And it’s weird, ‘cos it’s yours, but now I mostly associate it with Khura’in. Like, whenever I went for walks before or after work, this was usually the first thing I grabbed, even when it was too warm for me to wear. Something to hold onto, I s’pose.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey - new idea!”

Klavier chuckled at his sudden enthusiasm. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Over there,” Apollo said, gesturing towards the river running alongside the night market. Other market patrons were there as well, eating, talking, and admiring the city skyline. “It’s definitely no Khura’inese scenery, but we could also grab some food and go for a walk, get away from the main crowd and all that.”

“I’d like that,” Klavier replied, popping the last piece of takoyaki into his mouth. “What should we get next, then?”

After much deliberation, the two of them settled on milk tea and crepes, then began walking alongside the river, chatting amicably about nothing in particular while occasionally spotting their friends in the distance. They saw Trucy and Pearl sharing a giant bowl of shaved ice, Ema and Kay marveling at all of the bags for sale - Ema had once mentioned she needed a new one to fit her entire forensics kit - while Athena and Simon were, for some reason, arm-wrestling. Juniper was supervising them with a hint of apprehension in her eyes; Athena appeared to be winning.

As they passed by people going in the opposite direction, Klavier lowered the brim of his cap over his eyes. He felt somewhat nervous, even paranoid, every single time someone looked at him for a little too long. “Not too interested in signing autographs or taking selfies, huh?” Apollo teased when it happened for the fifth time in under twenty minutes. “Nah, I get it. I’m sure it gets pretty exhausting after a while.”

“It’s...it’s not fans I’m worried about,” Klavier confessed, ducking his head once more. “It’s...the opposite, really.”

“Huh?” Apollo’s eyes then widened. “Oh, you mean...o-oh. Has that been happening a lot lately, or…?”

“Just...more than it should,” Klavier said quietly, so quietly that Apollo almost couldn’t hear him over the noise of the night market. “Anyway, I’d rather not get into it. Tell me more about your mother, you said the other day that her memories were coming back to her, ja?”

Apollo eyed him worriedly, but decided not to comment. “Yeah, yeah, uh - mostly stuff about Trucy, and Trucy’s dad, and her time with the troupe. Not so much the before, the me and...and my dad part. It was...I tried asking her, y’know, basic stuff about him. Like what his voice sounded like, what kind of person he was...but it’s all bits and pieces for her. Little tiny things, not significant details. She remembered that he didn’t like spinach and he had a pair of lucky socks, but she wasn’t sure if my voice sounded anything like his, or how they picked my name, or what their first date was. Stuff like that.” He visibly swallowed.

“I’m sure that must have been frustrating for both of you,” Klavier said, humming in sympathy.

“I don’t know what to feel sometimes.” An odd look crossed Apollo’s face then, like he wasn’t sure where his words had come from, but he seemed determined to keep going. “Obviously, I-I’m happy to have her in my life, and to see her doing so well after what she went through, but...it’s not like I had this...this attachment to my dad that she did. And sure, I wanna know more about him, but sometimes, i-it feels like I’m doing it more for her than for me. But that makes me sound like a shitty person, like I-I don’t care about him. Like he doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Klavier went silent for a moment, thinking. It was hard to concentrate when he could hear Apollo’s breath growing increasingly erratic; he so desperately wanted to wrap him up in a hug, though he wasn’t sure if Apollo would want him to. “If you ask me, you sound like a good person who cares about his mother,” he finally said after some time. “And even if your biological father isn’t as important to you as he was to her, he still means something to you. You know that.”

“Do I?” Apollo chuckled wetly, wiping his damp eyes with the sleeve hem of his hoodie. “And Trucy - god, Trucy, sh-she’s…”

“What about her?” Klavier asked, frowning.

“It’s not like either of us likes to think about it, but…” Apollo chewed his bottom lip. “If something happened to Mom, then...well. It’s not like it’s new to us...losing people. When do I get to the point where I can accept it? Where I know...I-I can’t do anything to stop it?” He let out another horrible laugh. “Shit, that sounded so heartless. Th-that’s not what I meant, I - ”

“I know what you meant,” Klavier promised somewhat sadly. “Have you talked to her about it? Or...either of them, really.”

“No, but it...it’s why Trucy wants us to hang out practically every day.” Apollo stopped for a moment, turning to watch Trucy, who was currently shoveling huge spoonfuls of shaved ice and red bean into her mouth, with a fond smile. “She won’t say it, but I-I know her. I can tell what she’s thinking. Even before we found out we were siblings, she seemed...kinda worried that I was gonna leave again. Or that I wasn’t gonna come back in the first place, even when I said I would.”

“Maybe it’s time you have that conversation,” Klavier suggested. “It won’t be a pleasant conversation, but it seems...necessary, ja?”

Apollo exhaled shakily. “Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just...there’s always something. A trial o-or a show or whatever. But, uh, honestly? I just don’t like thinking about it. Like, ever.”

“I don’t blame you,” Klavier admitted, rubbing Apollo’s arm reassuringly. “I wouldn’t want to open myself up to that kind of personal scrutiny, either.” He paused. “I...gave Trucy some similar advice a while back, you know. Advice that I should’ve taken myself, should still be taking myself, but...it’s like they say. Easier said than done.”

“Easier said than done,” Apollo echoed in agreement, sighing.

Another minute or two passed in silence, accompanied by the noisy chatter and whistling winds around them. Apollo seemed to be thinking intensely about something, but with everything they’d talked about, not just now, but over the past year, Klavier couldn’t even begin to guess what it was. Then, he lifted his head to look Klavier right in the eye. “Why did you call me in Khura’in, that first time?”

Klavier’s heart skipped a beat. “...why does it matter?”

“Because...because you’re one of my favorite people, too.” Apollo’s cheeks reddened, though he was clearly trying his best to ignore it. “And I - I wanna know if something happened that day. If...something happened to you.”

“Nothing happened to me,” Klavier said smoothly, trying not to let his dizzying joy at Apollo’s words show. “Trucy suggested I call you sometime, that’s all. Simple as that.”

Apollo’s right hand instantly went to his left wrist. “But that’s not all there is to it, is it?”

“Is this a cross-examination now?” Klavier asked, letting out an uneasy laugh. He turned on his heel and continued to walk. “You’re going to find my tell, are you? My nervous habit? It’s a nice night, Forehead, let’s not spoil it.”

“I just wanna understand you, Klavier.” Klavier stopped dead in his tracks; he could feel Apollo’s eyes on his back. “Look, if it’s such a big secret, or if you just don’t wanna tell me, I-I’ll shut up about it already. But I just - I worry about you sometimes. You’re always so...so calm. And helpful, a-and sweet, and...I get what it’s like to put on a brave face. To pretend that everything’s the way it should be. That’s all I’m saying. So if it really was nothing, then I’ll drop it, okay? I’ll let it go, and move - ”

“I was sitting in my childhood bedroom.” Now he felt lightheaded for a different reason; Klavier dropped his gaze, his body swaying despite the fact he was standing perfectly still. Apollo quickly stepped around him so they were face-to-face, tucking his empty cup under his arm so he could hold Klavier’s shoulders, his still-wet eyes shining with concern. “I was sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, and suddenly, I-I wanted to talk to the one person in the entire world who - who doesn’t want something from me. Who doesn’t want to ask for my autograph, or my connections, or my help, or...or about Kristoph. Who just wants to talk to me for - for - for me.” Before he could stop himself, his eyes were suddenly filling with tears. Klavier clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

Apollo let out a stifled noise. “Ah - Klavier!”

“Mama, a-and Papa, I - they say they can’t - that it - b-but they still mourn him l-like he’s already - already gone,” Klavier managed to say between short, gasping breaths, his heartbeat pounding alarmingly fast in his ears. He desperately clutched at his chest, but he was unable to find his grip. The ground, his surroundings, they all seemed to be spinning around him. “And I-I want to say - ‘I’m still here, y-you have me’ - and they know, but th-they - ”

“Breathe, Klavier, breathe,” Apollo urged. “Look at me, watch me, okay? In...out...in...”

Klavier dropped his cup entirely, desperately clinging onto Apollo’s shoulders, anticipating that his knees were about to give out beneath him. He swallowed a few generous lungfuls of air, trying not to cough or exhale directly in Apollo’s face, all while his eyes were fixated on Apollo’s - large, round, expressive to a fault. The color of melted chocolate, usually, though in the moonlight, more akin to the color of ink. “I’m okay,” Klavier whispered, though tears were still rolling down his cheeks. “Sorry, I - ”

“Don’t apologize,” Apollo said firmly. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to - we don’t - we don’t have to talk about this.”

“Nein, I - I want to tell you.” Klavier cleared his throat, wiping his face on his sleeve; he knew he looked like a mess, he knew that they were in public, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Bitte, will you let me?”

“Yeah, o-of course.” Now it was Apollo's turn to rub his arm comfortingly. “But, uh, I think we should sit. There’s a bench over there, are you good to move?”

Once they managed to sit down, both of them visibly shaking, Apollo placed a trembling hand on Klavier’s knee, nodding for him to try again. “I was trying to say that - that I’ve always been our parents’ favorite. I was more outgoing, more curious, and I think they especially liked that about me.” Klavier’s breath was still shallow; he paused to take another deep, measured breath. “So when I say that...that I feel responsible somehow...that I played a part in his madness, his cruelty...I-I’m not just talking about Zak Gramarye’s trial.”

“You don’t mean…” Apollo sucked in a breath of his own. “You think he resented you, don’t you?”

“I think it’s more like...he never liked getting ignored, passed over, for someone else. For me, for Herr Wright…” Klavier swallowed thickly. “And then I go home to my parents, a-and they promise me it’s not my fault, that I was merely a pawn, but - but I can tell that, deep down, they miss him. They mourn him, like he’s no longer here. They're packing his things, cleaning out his room...trying to pretend he never existed, because it’s easier than living with the truth. But they slip sometimes. All the time, really. Because, at the end of the day...he still means something to them. To me.”

“Klavier,” Apollo said softly, squeezing Klavier’s knee. He seemed unsure of what to say.

“I can try all I want, but there’s no pretending for me,” Klavier continued bitterly, his voice growing stronger, louder. “Do reporters want to ask about my success as a prosecutor or my music career? Nein, they want to ask how it felt to prosecute my own brother and my own bandmate. Do my coworkers want to know how my weekend was or if I’m free to hang out? Nein, they only ask how I’m feeling when I seem less than perfect because it makes them uncomfortable. When I go to family gatherings, do they tease me about my love life or ask me how work is going? Nein, they want to know if he and I really are cut from the same cloth. No one - no one ever really wants to ask me about me. Just me.”

“Klavier - ”

“And I know they try,” Klavier sighed. “And I don’t mean to be...I’m trying not to ask for much. But how do I really know, that when Herr Edgeworth tells me I’m doing a good job, that I really am doing a good job? If Herr Blackquill tells me I seem to be happier these days, does he mean it, o-or is he telling me what he knows I want to hear?” He paused. “How do I...do I trust any of my family members - nein, how do I trust my own judgment...when the one person I grew up with...when he...when the people I-I thought I knew turned out to be...” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

“For what it’s worth...you know I'm in your corner, yeah?” Apollo offered. “You know I won't...that I don't bullshit you. But still, I...I’m so sorry, that’s...that’s terrible. So when you texted me after your cousin’s wedding...”

Klavier nodded resignedly. “Ja, exactly. I don’t...it feels like…” He felt tears forming in his eyes again; he quickly wiped them away before they could fall. “...never mind, it’s stupid. It’s childish, i-it’s selfish, I - ”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Apollo gave him a watery, encouraging smile. “What is it?”

Klavier went silent for what felt like hours, his mind racing to find the precise words he wanted to say. “...it feels like I will always care more about someone else than they will ever care about me.”

Another lengthy pause soon followed, one that made Klavier unbearably nervous. For once, Apollo’s usually expressive face was completely inscrutable. Then, Apollo practically threw himself at Klavier, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in close. “Klavier,” he repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time, his voice warm and urgent in Klavier’s ear. “People care about you, okay? You gotta know that. I-I promise, there are people out there who - who care about you more than you think. Like...like me.”

Klavier let out a sobbing, incredulous laugh. “Achtung, Apollo...you do know that I’m in love with you, right?”

Apollo went still. He stared at him, wide-eyed. “You...you are?”

“You mean you really didn’t know?” Klavier could only laugh again, more hopelessly this time; his mouth seemed to be moving faster than his brain. While it usually never happened to him, it seemed like Apollo brought out his honesty more easily than most. He wasn’t sure if that impressed him or terrified him. “With everything that’s been happening between us, you didn’t think - ”

“I-I knew we were getting closer, th-that we were gonna go for drinks, but...I-I thought this was, like. A recent thing for you,” Apollo stammered, still staring at him disbelievingly.

“A recent thing? You mean like your feelings...for me?” Klavier was almost afraid to ask.

“What? No, I - ” Apollo suddenly seemed to realize he still had his arms loosely draped around Klavier’s midsection. He yanked them back like he’d been burned, his cheeks flushed pink. “I mean, yes, yes, d-definitely recent - ”

“Apollo, bitte.” Klavier took Apollo’s hands in his, gently running his thumbs across Apollo’s knuckles. “I know you don’t owe me your honesty, but I’d like to think that after everything I just said, you could afford me just a little bit of it.”

Apollo fell silent, considering. Klavier held his breath in anticipation, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Then, Apollo withdrew one hand from Klavier’s grasp, instead lifting it to cup Klavier’s jaw. His eyes were wet once more, his smile impossibly soft. “I hate that you feel like you have to ask for someone else to be honest to you...least of all me,” Apollo murmured. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine - ”

“But it isn’t!” Apollo interrupted fiercely. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic decency, especially from someone who’s supposed to care about you. Because - ‘cos god, Klavier, you - you’re - I love you, okay?” Klavier’s mouth fell open, stunned, but no words came out. “I love you and your...your…” Apollo inhaled yet again, taking a moment to think carefully. “You always surprise me, y’know. With how...willing you are to be proven wrong. How open you are to changing your mind. And even though you’re one of the most self-important people I’ve ever met...you still manage to be pretty selfless when it comes down to it. So selfless, that...that...that it worries me sometimes.”

“Worries...you?” Klavier asked, his voice small.

Apollo shot him a shaky smile. “Whether you’re looking out for yourself.”

“I think the last thing anyone could accuse me of is not making something about me,” Klavier said, chuckling wetly. “Take now, for example. We were having such a nice night, until - ”

“ - until you finally got the chance to say what you’ve been wanting to say,” Apollo finished for him. “Just like...like I did. Just now.”

Klavier’s eyes flitted across Apollo’s face, his gaze traveling from his tearful eyes to his parted lips, trying to find a sign, a warning that there was something there other than complete sincerity. When he found nothing, he cracked a grin of his own. “You really love me?”

In lieu of answering, Apollo moved closer, his forehead resting against Klavier’s, their noses barely brushing. Klavier’s breath hitched. Then, Apollo closed the gap between them, kissing him so tenderly, so carefully, that he felt a pleasant shiver go up his spine. Finally. Klavier melted right into him, every muscle in his body seemingly relaxing all at once; he released Apollo’s hand so he could wrap his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. Apollo was so warm, Klavier thought, his skin surprisingly soft, his lips unsurprisingly rough, not that it lessened Klavier’s joy. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, not all the people walking by that could easily see them, not the fact that their friends could probably recognize them if they tried. When they reluctantly broke apart, they realized that they both had tears running down their faces.

“..shit.” Apollo let out a wet laugh, sniffling sharply. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie to pull out a packet of tissues, handing one to Klavier before attempting to take care of himself. “That was, uh - ”

“Perfect,” Klavier declared, his grin so wide, it threatened to split his face open.

“I was gonna say ‘gross’, but okay. Whatever you’re into, I guess,” Apollo teased, turning away momentarily to blow his nose. A comfortable silence fell over them as they took a moment to clean themselves up, to wipe their running noses and watery eyes. “Um, but - Klavier, are you okay? Because, well. That seemed like a lot.”

“Ja, I…” Klavier laughed disbelievingly. “...I feel incredible, actually. Like I’ve managed to...to let go of some of the things I’ve been carrying for a little too long. Even if I didn't do anything but drop them.” He then looked at Apollo. “What about you, liebe? We were talking about you, and then it became about me, and - ”

“That’s how conversations work, Klav,” Apollo reminded him. “And all that...I dunno, guilt, loneliness, whatever you wanna call it? That’s been going on for way too long. But for me, it’s...I-I’m still figuring some stuff out. Something I can deal with once I know, y’know?”

“If you’re sure. But...I’m here if you need me, ja? Always.” Klavier brushed a few loose strands of hair out of Apollo’s eyes, then leaned in to kiss him again. This particular kiss was thankfully less damp. “So, ah...what should we do now?”

“Well...I think all that crying made me dehydrated,” Apollo said half-jokingly. He stood, extending a hand in Klavier’s direction. “Will you finally let me pay for one of your drinks? Please?”

“I guess I can indulge you,” Klavier teased, taking Apollo’s hands and getting to his feet as well. Apollo rolled his eyes but pulled Klavier along nonetheless. Their fingers remained entangled, both of them holding on tight, even when they stepped back into the night market crowd.

_____

A few hours later, they found themselves in the elevator of Klavier’s apartment building, on the way up to his penthouse, grinning giddily at each other like lovesick teenagers. Naturally, the others had been suspicious when Apollo told them they were leaving together. Trucy, Athena, and Kay seemed ready to burst with questions, while Ema and Simon had merely watched them go with raised eyebrows. Still, no one said anything but their goodbyes, something both of them were grateful for.

“You look like you’re thinking really hard over there,” Apollo said, smirking. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

“Never,” Klavier replied instantly. Even though he knew Apollo was joking, he wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t. “Not when it comes to you.”

Apollo’s smile softened. “Good. That’s, uh...that’s good. Same here.”

After they’d washed up and settled in, the two of them collapsed onto Klavier’s bed, right on top of his duvet, comfortably exhausted from everything that had been said and done. Apollo was half-curled into Klavier’s side, yawning every so often while he sent off a few text messages, presumably to Trucy and their mother. Klavier had one hand in Apollo’s hair and the other loosely resting on Apollo’s hip, humming and tapping out a rhythm while he waited for Apollo to finish.

“Sorry,” Apollo said, briefly rolling over so he could set his phone down on the bedside table.

“Nein, nein, it’s okay,” Klavier replied. “I don’t know about you, but I’m wide awake. How am I supposed to fall asleep after a night like that, achtung.”

“Yeah, we definitely had, uh...we definitely had a moment back there.” Apollo sounded both embarrassed and pleased. “God, I hope no one saw us. I have zero interest in becoming a trending hashtag before our first date.”

“You don’t consider this our first date?” Klavier asked curiously.

“I prefer my first dates to be drama-free, thanks,” Apollo drawled. Still, his expression was relaxed, somewhat drowsy. “Though I think, in a way...we kinda needed that. Wish it hadn’t happened in public, but hey, we can’t exactly pick our battles.” At Klavier’s responding chuckle, he frowned slightly. “Klav? What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just - mein Gott, I love you.” Klavier rested his forehead against Apollo’s, his smile warm and open. Apollo returned it with one of his own, his hands resting against Klavier’s chest, Klavier’s heartbeat steady beneath his fingertips. “I know we still have a lot to deal with, but...right now? I couldn’t care less. I’m just...I’m so happy.”

Grinning, Apollo shuffled closer, kissing him chastely. They exchanged slow, meandering kisses for a few minutes, fingers lightly pressed into each other’s sides, legs loosely tangled together. “...dork.”

“Your response is supposed to be ‘I love you, too’, liebe,” Klavier hinted, eliciting a delighted laugh from Apollo’s mouth. “But seriously, I mean it. I really do feel...free.”

“Good,” Apollo said affectionately, cupping Klavier’s face with both hands. “Look, I - I know all that stuff you’re feeling isn’t gonna magically go away, just like that, but...if you still need to hear it…” He then turned his head, his lips brushing against Klavier’s ear. “...it wasn’t your fault. It was his, all his. And people legitimately care about you for reasons that have nothing to do with him or your fame or their own motives. So try not to let anyone make you think otherwise, okay?” Klavier shivered. “And I love you, too. Dork.”

“Ach,” Klavier said, sniffling. “You’re going to make me cry again, baby. How dare you call me a dork.” Apollo burst into laughter once more, burying his face in the crook of Klavier’s neck with a satisfied hum. They went quiet for a little while longer, simply holding each other and enjoying the stillness of the night. “I do have...one last little worry, though.”

“Yeah?” Apollo ran his thumb across Klavier’s cheek. “What is it?”

“I...part of me is worried, that…” Klavier paused, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. “After everything we’ve been through...do you really think this is going to work? Or do you think that we just hope that it will?”

“No use in pretending like we know for sure,” Apollo said honestly. “There’s a million things that could go wrong, y’know? We could get into a really bad argument, we could have problems separating work from our personal lives - hell, we might be better off as friends…”

“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?” Klavier teased.

“Oh, hush.” Apollo kissed Klavier to silence him. The two of them became momentarily distracted, wrapped up in each other’s embrace once more. Klavier wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to let Apollo go in the morning, not when they’d both waited this long. “All I’m saying is, as long as we try, then…” Apollo’s kiss-bitten lips then stretched into a fond grin. “...I think we’re gonna do just fine.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my seventh and final entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the third of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, this fic is best read after day five's, meet me halfway (across the sky), so I would recommend reading that one to fully understand the first half of this fic!

Y'all, I can't believe it's finally over! I feel like I've been working on these fics for ages (and I've fallen behind on others; we'll see if I end up getting two fics out in July like I originally planned), especially this one and day five's. Thank you to the lovelies who organized Klapollo Week, this was super fun to do! I got a little overambitious for sure, but I liked how they turned out. In doing this, I definitely learned that short(er) fics aren't really my thing; I had a good time writing them, but I'm not a concise writer, so I struggled with getting a good balance of plot and details for the fics that were under six thousand words. In fact, I low-key wanna write fuller versions of all of them 😅

If you missed any of the other days, I would love it if you checked them out! My personal favorites are the odd-numbered days, also known as the ones with angst. I'm thinking that sometime next year, I'll write a super long version of meet me halfway (across the sky) where Klavier eventually gets to be with Apollo in Khura'in. Knowing me, that thing will be a monster of fifty-thousand-word proportions. In the meantime, if you're interested in finding out what I'll be posting next, you can filter my fanfiction masterpost by "coming soon"!

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 ❤️