#stick around here long enough and you’ll see I’ve made this song my entire personality

[ohgaylor]

the archer & cowboy like me? (for the choosing game)

thank you! oh bestie, for me it’s always always always cowboy like me! 🤠 that’s not to say I don’t love the vulnerability of the archer though! but at the end of the day, you can bet I’ll be riding off into that sunset forevermore 🌅

(make me pick between two Taylor Swift songs)

[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

Please Comment Like & Share so I know you want more Geinshein content  

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door. 

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?” 

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

[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 ❤️

[ddarker-dreams]

Want. Yan Risotto x Reader [COMM]

You’ve never taken this long before.

Risotto is acutely aware of your everyday routine. Your shift at this cafe ends at 5:00 P.M., but you’ll chat with your coworkers for a few minutes afterwards. Then you’ll proceed to the staff room to retrieve your bag, check your phone, and leave through the back exit at around 5:10. When it’s a nice day out like this one, you’ll then walk home to your dingy apartment. However, if it’s raining, you’ll set up a carpool with a friend. 

Expecting you to be exactly on time always is unreasonable, yet Risotto prefers to stick to what he knows. This isn’t a small, overlookable delay either. It requires further scrutiny. 

He mulls over his options, all the possibilities that’d offer an explanation for this delay. Knowing that you’re still inside despite it being twenty minutes past the normal time for you to leave, he assumes something must’ve happened. Slipping out front isn’t a possibility either, he keeps watch there too. Calling your boss is a possibility, but a risky one at that. 

Binetti’s voice always quivers in blatant anxiety, never brave (or foolish) enough to ask why exactly a member of Passione has taken such an extreme interest in his employee. Curiosity is still there, as is to be expected. Ultimately, Risotto doesn’t want the weak willed man to mess up his carefully crafted plans, by accidentally revealing something to you.

So that leaves learning the reason for your absence to his discretion. 

Metallica gives him the ability to freely observe you to his heart’s content, but it doesn’t entirely erase him from existence. Under normal conditions he’d follow behind someone entering the cafe to avoid suspicion, since to anyone else, it’d appear as if a door was opening for no reason had he interacted with it. Dispelling the iron around him, he cautiously approaches the door that leads into the back of the building.

He’ll be able to use his Stand to hide his presence once he’s inside, but quietly opening the door will be the main hurdle. None of the windows are an option since they’re locked, and breaking them would be counterproductive to his plan. All of this trouble to ensure your safety. A few feet lay between him and his destination, his approach methodical. 

Only for you to open it before he even gets the chance.

Headphones in your ears as they usually are, you’re too busy picking out a new song while humming to notice Risotto’s presence at first. When you finally sense a shadow looming, it catches your attention, earning a small gasp. Risotto’s expression betrays his conflicting inner feelings, a calm facade already set in place to avoid further suspicion. He’s aware of his frightening appearance, but other than your initial astonishment, you don’t seem concerned.

Tugging the headphone out of your ear, you look up at him curiously. “Oh, uh, hello. I’m not sure if you’re lost, but the door to get into the cafe is--” you pause, pointing towards the corner that leads to the street. “--that way. I can show you, if you like.” 

Voice saccharine like sugar, he entertains the thought of how much better it’ll sound when you speak his name.

“I’m friends with the owner.” Risotto lies with practiced ease, his deep voice causing a shiver to travel down your spine. It’s a small experience, but it’s overwhelmingly thrilling to finally interact with the object of his affection. This isn’t what he planned originally, but Risotto is able to adapt in any situation without breaking a sweat. 

Letting out a hum of understanding, you offer him a beaming smile as if he’s your longtime friend. Muscles going taut at the endearing sight, he closes his eyes momentarily to regain himself. It’s nonsensical, how his heart remains steady when he takes the lives of others, but you render him weak at the knees by simply fluttering your eyelashes. Despite the lack of control it brings, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t savor it. 

Interaction with others is understandably limited for Risotto. He speaks with his squad, but tries to maintain a business-like relationship for their sake. It’s a lonely lifestyle, even if it’s what he chose for himself. The less traces of an assassin the better. It won’t always be this way, you filling the gaps in his heart he never knew existed. He just needs a little more time… 

“I’m glad you’re here then. I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but Mr. Binetti has seemed on edge lately,” you sigh, crossing your arms with a worried frown. “Please cheer him up if you can, okay? He’s a bit of a skittish man, but he’s always been kind to me.” 

The news doesn’t come as a surprise to Risotto. Binetti can hardly stop sweating when he comes to check in on you, ensuring that you’re being treated well and no coworkers are giving you any flack. Still, it’s a detail he isn’t willing to overlook. If Binetti mentioned something to you -- whether it’s on purpose or not -- it’ll make things more complicated than they need to be.

Wanting more information to be safe, he prompts you to speak further. “Oh? Really? Has he said anything to you?” 

Risotto’s vermilion eyes admire how your soft lips move to the side while you think, how you  place a delicate hand to your chin. He’s seen and memorized your usual body language, but being on the receiving end of it feels different. Surreal. Now he’s this close to you, able to take in every aspect that makes you unique. Not to mention hearing the small flairs of your accent seeping through, it’s all too precious.

“Now that you mention it…” you trail off, eyes narrowing as memories come flooding back. “He did say something out of the ordinary the other day. Kinda like, be wary of everything? I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he’s just been paranoid lately. There is a lot of criminal activity in this area at times… though it never seems to affect us directly.” 

So his concerns weren’t unfounded. Your boss was attempting to signal you in his own, covert way. Irksome as it is, all problems have a solution.

Clasping your hands together, you attempt to alleviate his worries, still believing that Risotto is emotionally invested in this person’s well being. It doesn’t come as a shock. You may be naive, but you have a good, compassionate heart. It’s what drew Risotto to you initially, like a moth to a flame. 

“I know it sounds ominous, but I’m sure it isn’t anything that bad. Don’t worry too much, okay?” you reassure, eyes softening with empathy. Risotto’s owl-like stare observes as you reach out to him, the height difference not stopping you. Placing a considerate hand to his shoulder, you give a comforting squeeze. “You have to think of your own well being too.”

From all the immoral things he’s done in his lifetime, does he really deserve this? To have your attention for this long, to feel your heavenly touch. He isn’t normally a sentimental person, however, your caring actions touch him deeply. But as sweet as this little interaction is, it isn’t enough to placate a deeper hunger within. To know what you’d be like as a lover, his lover. All attention directed at no one other than him. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

His monotonous response doesn’t reflect overwhelming emotions within, all of his strength being used to keep his composure in front of you. How he desperately longs to take you with him. Your future shared bedroom is already waiting, he’s nothing if not prepared. Risotto amuses the thought, wondering if he should throw caution to the wind.

But it’s not the time for that. Not here, not now. Patience is a necessity in his field of work, and it applies here as well. There are still loose ends that need to be removed, more arrangements that need to be made. Seeing you in front of him, so tangible and real, reignites a fire beneath him. It won’t hurt to speed up the process a bit. 

Looking down at the time on your phone, you let out a quiet curse at how late it is. He knows it’s unusual for you to not be home by now. Troublesome as it is, he won’t be able to watch over you while you walk back either, but he’ll know when you arrive home. The motion sensors ensure that. 

“I’ve held you here long enough. Have a good day, alright?” you smile, placing your headphones back. He dismisses you with a nod of his head, eyes tracking your retreating form with interest. Heading off in the direction you normally do, you shoot him a final look. Giving a cheeky thumbs up and wave, you return on your way. 

A light scent of coffee mixed with your normal perfume stays even when he can no longer see you. He makes a mental note to buy this perfume late, recalling how it typically sits on your bathroom sink; making it difficult to gain access to when you’re home. 

There’ll be time to reflect on this pleasant experience, but for now, he has business to attend to. A talk with Binetti is in order. 

-- 

So it’s leftovers from Tuesday tonight. 

It’s disappointing, as watching you cook is always a sight to behold. From the way you carefully place uncooked pasta into a boiling pot so as not to burn yourself, or how you hum when chopping vegetables. It’s a domestic task, but one that Risotto has grown familiar to seeing. He hopes that you'll make dinner for him one day with the same enthusiasm. Take out and microwave meals just aren’t the same.

Seasoning your dish more to your liking, you stick it in the microwave with a satisfactory click. A low hum fills the cramped room, Risotto taking note of how you begin to sway in rhythm. He knows what that means, his heart fluttering in excitement for what’s to come.

Lips parting, the room is filled with your singing. A song he doesn’t recognize, but he’s never been musically inclined. Singing only for yourself, you get distracted in your song and forget what it was you were doing originally. Your voice is heavenly enough, but it transforms into something else entirely when you sing. There isn’t a satisfactory enough way to describe it, but he settles on the word stunning. 

The lyrics of the song are in English, your native tongue. He only picks up a few common phrases, but your talent transcends language. It’s a special privilege to be able to see you like this, entirely vulnerable and acting as your true self. Where you can apologetically be who you are, unaware of Risotto’s looming presence. Many sleepless nights he closes his eyes, picturing your voice serenading him with loving lullabies. 

How intimate. Beeping from the microwave causes you to jump, laughter soon following after. Risotto hasn’t ever tasted your cooking, but by how fast you consume it, assumes it must be good. Taking note of the time, he knows he’ll have to leave soon, a job needing his attention tonight. Wanting to spend more time in your presence is tempting, but work is work. 

‘Another thirty minutes.’

When you’re relaxing from a day at work, you spend time on social media or your other hobbies. Interchanging between them until sleep takes ahold of you. In the winter, blankets are warmed in the dryer at night for extra warmth. It’s a small detail, significant all the same. Observation is a vital part of his occupation. 

You’re not a target, in the traditional sense. A target of his affections, nothing purely malicious with killing intent. Methods from years of tracking and stalking for the purpose of murdering gave Risotto all the tools he needs to effectively keep watch over you. It was for peace of mind at first, but it evolved into something more. A calling to be the person closest to you. From the color of your toothbrush to the time you wake up in the morning, Risotto knows it all, which brings him pride. 

This knowledge will help ease the transition, once Risotto kidnaps you. He isn’t delusional, he knows the sudden change in lifestyle will be jarring. There’ll be exchanges of cruel words, tears shed, and possibly blood spilled. That’s why extra care is put into the villa you’ll soon live in with him. He still needs to find your favorite perfume to put on your bedside table.

Placing dishes in the sink, you dry your hands before venturing to your tiny bathroom. Risotto hears water running, faucet squeaking in protest. Frowning, Risotto reassures himself. Where you will live in the future is what you truly deserve, not this dingy studio apartment. He helps himself to the crevices of your room, running his fingers over your discarded clothes with interest.

‘These colors, hm?’

Shirts and dresses consisting of your favorite color and patterns are gently caressed, mind wandering to what you look like when wearing them. Casual is the style you’re fond of, wanting to be comfortable outside of your usual work clothes. Moving on, he looks at your phone which you had flung onto your bed prior.

Shower still running, he swiftly checks the screen while he’s still able to. A few text messages from your friends, and some from your parents in English. Scrolling further, Risotto’s eyes narrow in concentration at a new name. Marco. The text itself can be interpreted in a variety of ways, Risotto’s mind favoring the unsavory ones. 

From the lock screen, all he’s able to see an out of context message. 

I hope you’ll see it my way.

What were the two of you talking about? It’s a risk to steal your phone now, not wanting to alert you to any foul play. If only Melone were here, he’s more skilled with electronics. It sounds like this individual wants something from you, but what exactly? Now that he thinks about it, Binetti had mentioned that this coworker of yours is what caused the hold up earlier. Though the fickle man insisted that he’s unsure what words were exchanged, swearing on his life. 

‘How troublesome.’

If it weren’t for the looming assignment he has tonight, he’d personally give this Marco a visit. There’s always an option to ask one of the members of La Squadra to do it for him, but he prefers not to intertangle business and pleasure unless it’s unavoidable. Reading the text another time, he hears you turning the faucet off and knows his time is short.

Placing the phone back to its original spot with care, he reactivates Metallica and heads for an unlocked window. Venturing down the fire escape, Risotto considers what methods will be used on this unfortunate soul. Razors, perhaps? Or maybe scissors? Death from iron deficiency? He has time to give it some thought.

--

Finally gaining the opportunity to speak to you was a blessing, and a curse. 

As if he had tasted the forbidden fruit, knowledge of how euphoric it is to experience your attention firsthand leaving him wanting more. Watching you from afar is no longer enough to satisfy his deepest yearnings. For months he could tolerate never exchange a single word with you, harrowing as it was. Not anymore.

Everything is falling into place as he pictured it. The house the two of you were to share together fit your image well, furnishings put in place with your taste in mind. A wardrobe of your current clothing set up, normal toiletries, and the like. Even little, thoughtful gifts that Melone showed him from your wishlists. No detail is overlooked, Risotto wanting nothing more than to please you.

All that’s missing is the most important centerpiece to tie it all together, you. 

Stepping inside your workplace without using Metallica to conceal his presence, Risotto ignores the few stares that are shot his way. It’s par for the course, he’s well aware of his daunting appearance. Coffee and pastry aromas hit his nostrils, along with distant sounds of silverware clinking and muted chatter. People don’t stare at him for too long, whispers dying out after a few seconds.

He spots you speaking to a male customer, an incandescent smile on your face. His stomach churns as the customer returns your smile, firmly believing no one else deserves to witness such a beautiful sight. It feels like a knife being twisted in his gut, having to share you with the rest of the world.

Risotto isn’t sure what he’s doing here. Maybe it’s the anticipation for tonight, or the distaste his conversation with Marco instilled; that gave him the drive to speak to you in person again. This might be the last time for a while that you don’t perceive him as a monster, Risotto not looking forward to the inevitable animosity you’ll soon express. 

“Oh, I remember you!” you exclaim as Risotto approaches the counter, eyes lighting up in recognition. Binetti took notice of him, pretending to occupy himself with cleaning a spotless coffee filter. Risotto notices how his hands shake, yesterday’s confrontation still in mind. Not that Binetti’s behavior around you will matter much longer.

“I guess I should ask for your order first. What can I get for you today?” you inquire, leaning forward with a spring in your step. Risotto glances over the menu, before settling on a simple drink.

“A small red eye,” he answers without further thought. Remembering that he’s talking to you, continues. “Please.” 

Nodding your head with a concentrated look, you input his order before exchanging the required amount. Risotto shakes his head when you go to return his change, motioning towards the tip jar. Every concern in his mind melts away at the bright grin you flash him, gratefully tucking the extra money in with eager thanks. 

You move with practiced grace, working the silver machines with ease. He hears you humming a song you’ve sung in the past, recognizing it after the first few notes. Deft fingers measuring the required amounts for his drink, you set to work with the press of a button. 

After a few minutes, you hand over a steaming hot cup. Fingers lightly brushing over his own, his breath hitches. The first time you’ve ever touched him, and surely not the last.

“Is it alright if I go ahead and take my break now?” you call back to Binetti, who startles at the sudden sound of your voice. The middle aged man props his glasses up, eyes briefly flickering to Risotto’s imposing form before looking at you. 

“O-of course. Take your time.” 

Smoothing out your wrinkled apron, you walk over to Risotto who has taken a seat in the furthest corner of the store. “Mind if I hang out with you for a bit? My feet are killing me, and all the other seats are full.” 

Risotto feels his body erupt in warmth, knowing that you actively sought him out. Even if it’s only because there are no other options, the means to an end don’t concern him. Not wanting to seem overly eager by responding right away, he pretends to consider your proposition despite having already known the answer.

“Help yourself.” 

Taking another sip of his drink, the bitter flavor pacifies his dry mouth. Hot liquid running down his throat, he maintains a stoic expression in spite of his hammering heart. It could be pure luck that you came to sit here with him, or it could be fate. He’s grateful for it nonetheless. 

Chair groaning against the floor, you smooth out your skirt once you take your seat; thinking of how to start conversation. “It’s amazing that you can drink coffee without any cream or sugar. I know I never could.” 

Risotto’s lips quip upwards as he places the cup down onto the wooden table, well aware of your preference for sweets. “You get used to it.” 

“That could be true. I’ve never been brave enough to try it more than once, so I wouldn’t know,” you respond, a light laugh leaving your lips. “I don’t normally have caffeine this late in the day. It would be too hard to sleep, ya know? There was this time I saw a special that was only lasting one more day, and I didn’t want to miss trying the drink. So, idiot that I was, I went ahead and ordered it despite it being six o’clock in the evening.” 

Shaking your head with distant regret, you continue your story. “What a mistake that was! I was awake all night. My hands were so jittery I could’ve sworn they’d fall off. Not to mention I had a test the next morning… you know you messed up when you look out the window and the sun’s rising.” 

If it were anyone else, Risotto would find this chatter bothersome and pointless. However, since it’s you, every word matters to him. Fully appreciating even the most benign things you have to say, Risotto closes his eyes in contentment. Casual conversation doesn’t come easily, contemplating what a satisfactory response would be. 

“Was the drink good at the very least?” he wonders, watching as your jaw tightens and nose scrunches up. 

“Not at all! It was six dollars though, so you bet I drank the entire thing like it was ambrosia from the gods. A few days later I even saw articles of people making fun of how bad the drink was. It looked appealing enough, bright colors and all. But the taste… way too sweet, way too syrupy. A crime to the tastebuds.” 

“The person who invented it would’ve been locked away in the stocks if it were medieval times. Or is that the dark ages? One of the two. Anyways, if you ever see a bright purple and blue drink, run like your life depends on it.” you continue with apparent disdain, before snickering. 

“I wouldn’t try a drink like that.” he answers honestly, preferring bitter coffee over sugary flavors. 

“I wish I had thought the same. Would’ve saved me a lot of strife,” you sigh with exaggerated melancholy. “Enough about my myriad of dumb mistakes. How have you been lately? Mr. Binetti seems to be feeling better, so I think whatever you said to him cheered him up.” 

‘I don’t believe cheered up is the term I’d use.’

Risotto drums his fingers against the table. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“I feel so dumb,” you suddenly proclaim, lightly hitting your forehead. “I just realized! We’ve been talking all this time, and I never bothered introducing myself.” 

Risotto points to your name tag with amusement. Looking down, you let out a quiet “ooh” at the sight. “How about you then? I don’t see any name tags on you.” 

It can’t hurt to tell you his name now, it’s far too late for you to do anything if you even did discover who he is. Sitting there obliviously, you’re unaware of the web the stranger in front of you has tied you in. 

“Risotto.” 

Goosebumps dot his skin as you repeat his name back to him, rolling off your tongue beautifully. Nodding your head in approval, you’re completely ignorant of the effect you have on him. He lightly clears this throat in hopes of regaining control of himself, excitement budding. 

“It’s a unique name,” you comment. “I like it though. My break’s just about ready to end, so I should get going. Thanks for letting me chat with you for a bit. You’re a good listener.” 

Bidding one another goodbye, you return to your job with a renewed vigor. Risotto finishes his coffee, tossing the cup before leaving the cafe. Everything he’s worked hard for is within reach, a small bag of sleep medicine in his pocket. One more visit to your apartment to gather some more essential belongings, and then he only needs to wait.

Unknown to you, this’ll be the last shift you’ll ever work.

-- 

It’s pitch black.

Everything feels heavy, an imaginary weight on your chest that you’ve never experienced. Head throbbing violently, a displeased groan leaves your lips. Fatigue has set in to every corner of your body, all of your strength required for the measly action of lifting your head. Blinking rapidly, the blurry surroundings start to come into focus.

‘This... this isn’t my room? Where the hell am I?’

You’re set upon a canopy bed, curtains obscuring where the door must be. Panic begins to set in at the unknown surroundings, shooting up only to hear a metallic clink. Hissing at a pain on your wrist, you look to see that you’ve been handcuffed to the bedpost. 

It feels as if your heart will burst from how rapidly it beats, adrenaline overtaking you. Thrashing in hopes of freeing yourself, it does nothing but irritate your skin. Swallowing doesn’t come easy, mouth too dry with primal fear to produce saliva. What options are there? You’ve been kidnapped, no doubt, but why? Money can’t be the motivation, you scrape by every month. 

Neither do you belong to any important family, who could assist in bailing you out. The motivations are murky, not that it matters now. All that matters is finding a way out of this nightmare of a situation. 

‘Think, [First], think!’

Calling help for help could be detrimental, who knows what your captor (or captors) might do once you’re awake. It’ll be wiser to utilize this time where you’re alone, hopefully gaining your freedom in the process. Who knows what demands could be made of you if you’re no longer alone. 

Glancing down at your body, you check to make sure everything is in order. You’ve read news stories in the past of people who traffic organs -- could that be what this is? With your free hand, you pull up your shirt, letting out a sigh of relief at the lack of tampering. No stitches, no pain. At least that’s off the table.

All the pain you feel comes from your wrist, and your head. Maybe you were knocked out somehow, most likely drugs; the pain not severe enough to have been bludgeoning. 

The handcuffs are the biggest issue here. It’s skin tight, leaving no room or hope of wiggling free. If you can find something to dislocate your wrist with, maybe it’ll allow you to pull free? Looking around further for anything that might be of assistance, you frown at the barren room.

Everything that could be of use to you is out of reach. Bed creaking underneath your weight as you shift forward, you curse silently. Was that loud enough to alert whoever is holding you captive? Staying perfectly still, you will yourself to silence your uneven breathing, listening closely for approaching footsteps.

Nothing.

A shiver goes down your spine as you return to your previous task. It doesn’t make sense, but you don’t feel like you’re alone. Someone is watching you, somewhere. It’s an uneasy feeling, not being able to see the furthest corners of the room due to how dark it is. 

Looking to your left reveals windows that are barred off. This person thought of everything. The door that you can see most likely leads to the bathroom, so even if you get free that won’t be an option. Maybe locking yourself inside?

Frustration and lethargy mix together, taking any semblance of logical thinking from you. This is too much, the fear of the unknown plaguing you with unshakable anxiety. Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel tears escaping down your face.

Sniffling softly as you can, you all but jump when a glass is placed down next to you. Head snapping in the direction of the noise, you’re able to make out a liquid that looks like water just within your reach.

“W-who’s there,” you shakily demand, searching around the room once more. Nothing. “I don’t have anything. Please.” 

“You must be thirsty. Drink.” 

It’s a terribly deep voice, that’s obscured by darkness. Bringing with it a sense of familiarity, you feel as if you know this man. That you’ve spoken with him in the past, but who could it be? And what does he want? 

Grabbing the glass, you carefully inspect the liquid. Your mouth does feel dry and achy, you’re too leery of the contents to trust it. What if it’s drugged? Grimacing, you throw the glass in the direction the voice last came from. It shatters against the wall from the force, not hitting your intended target.

Somewhere else in the room, you hear a disappointed sigh. “Already acting up?” 

Lips twitching downward, you sneer at this derisive comment. What the hell was he expecting? For you to lap it up gratefully like a dog? No, whatever is going on -- you resolve yourself to be a pain in the ass. There’s no way you’ll roll over for this fucked up monster, doing as he pleases.

“I-I don’t know who you are, but the police are searching for me. I always text my friends at night, they’ll report me missing if I don’t!” 

A single chuckle resonates throughout the room, coming from another direction yet again. How can you not hear any footsteps? Or even see a slight shadow of this person? The moonlight streaming in from the window should serve to give you some information, but it does nothing for you. The voice is not coming from a microphone either, being too clear for that.

“Who are you?” 

It’s all you can bring yourself to ask at this point, throat constricting and head growing dizzier by the second. Adrenaline is starting to wear off, all your energy being dedicated to staying awake out of fear. You’re not expecting a response, but he gives you one after a few minutes. 

“You’ll know soon enough. Sleep, I won’t harm you.” he tells you, voice commanding. It’ll be pointless to argue, as much as you want to. You need your strength back, whatever you ingested earlier still remaining strong in your body.

“Though you may not believe me... this is for the best, [First].” 

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The Best Quiche in Tokyo

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Warnings: explicit sexuality (it literally takes place at an orgy so like.......Y’know)

Characters: Hatter (Takeru), Aguni, and Female Reader (You)

Summary: When one of your customers invites you to a potluck-slash-orgy, you assume the “orgy” part is a joke—because nobody really hosts a potluck and an orgy at the same time, right?

Notes: One time, @nessinborderland (happy belated birthday btw) gave me the brilliant idea of Hatter hosting an orgy and serving really good food and I just......ran with it. This ended up being part comedy, part character study—and mostly features Aguni, if you can believe it! I don’t know, I just let the story take me where it wanted to go! (Also, this is definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, so get ready to dig in!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon in March, and you’re standing in front of a hat shop. Well, technically, you’re slightly to the left of a hat shop, peering down a skinny alleyway in search of a door or a set of stairs—something to indicate that there is, in fact, an apartment up there and this is not just an elaborate prank.

There is a very good chance this is a prank—after all, the eccentric man who walked into your stationary store two weeks ago seemed...off. Not in a bad way, just. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Entirely himself, in a way that people usually aren’t.

Was he flirting or was he just overly friendly when he leaned in just a bit too close to see the various fonts available for his choosing? It’s difficult to say. He did seem genuinely interested to know the difference between serif and sans serif, which doesn’t much thrill your customers on the regular. Does asking for an extra business card ‘for his personal records’ count as a pick-up line? It’s hard to say. Not that it matters much, of course—you are a professional, he is a customer, and there’s nothing more to it.

And you really are a professional, because when he told you that he wanted—in metallic gold, 30-point, center aligned—to say, quote, “The Third Annual Springtime Potluck and Orgy: Presented by Danma Takeru,” you didn’t so much as bat an eye. Partially because he was very insistent that you spell his name correctly, and partially because. Well. How does a person respond to that?

In truth, he ended up being one of your better customers—he showed a genuine interest in the process while still deferring to your expertise—and when one of the printed invitations arrived in your mailbox, you figured you might as well go see what the fuss is about. It could be an opportunity to meet some new friends, maybe drum up a little business if you’re lucky.

And besides—a potluck-slash-orgy? Who would even do that?

The merry little jingle of bell catches your attention, and you turn your head to see a solemn-looking man peeking his head around the hat shop’s glass door. He looks at you. He looks at the plastic-wrapped pie in your hands. He looks back at you.

He frowns.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your most charming smile in the hopes that he’ll stop looking at you like you just slapped him across the face, “I’m, uh, I’m here for the party!”

You shuffle over to him, careful not to scuff the white of your sensible-yet-pretty patent leather heels on the sidewalk. Maybe you’re dressed too formally—he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans while you’re sporting a calf-length chiffon dress dyed in a lovely array of watercolor blues and violets.

Oh dear, what a faux-pas! There was no dress code listed on the invite, but maybe you should’ve dressed in a more casual fashion. You don’t live far, you could probably run home quickly and change...

“Do you...have an invitation,” the man asks, crossing his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. Is he annoyed? No, no. He seems. Confused? Wary? How very strange.

“Oh, of course,” you answer, reaching a fumbling hand into your purse to search for the little pink envelope, “I almost forgot it walking out the door, but I remembered at the last second! I can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but leans forward to inspect the invitation once you manage to produce it from the cluttered mess that is your handbag.

“I know the time said it started at three, but the pie took a little longer than expected. It takes time for the chocolate to set, and—“ you gasp, covering your mouth with your invite-laden hand, “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I’m so sorry, Mister...?”

“Call me Aguni,” he says, and his eyes narrow slightly when you give him your most chipper ‘thank you’ and apologize for not being able to shake his hand at the moment. What a strange man.

“You,” he asks slowly, “you read the invitation, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who made them,” you explain, puffing your chest up with pride, “and our host was kind enough to send one to me! He must have really liked my work!”

“...Yeah,” the man called Aguni says, “I’m sure that’s it.”

But, to your pleasure, he steps aside and holds the door open for you to enter. Such a strange man, but at least he’s gentlemanly enough to hold the door for you as you step inside.

“Oh, wow,” you say, “this place is amazing!”

And maybe it sounds silly, but you’re being entirely honest. There are hats in shelves, hats hanging on the wall, hats on faceless plastic heads on the counter and placed atop a long wooden table to the left—all of them in different shapes and colors, embellished and feathered and ribboned to the nines. There’s a certain magic to a little place like this, a kind of whimsical charm you want to bottle and keep on the kitchen windowsill.

“Walls could use some paint. Floor needs polished, too,” Aguni says, “but...yeah, I guess it’s nice enough.”

You follow him as he leads you towards the back, your eyes drinking in all the details of this fascinating little shop.

“No, no, the walls and the floor are perfect,” you assert with a wide-mouthed smile, “it gives it character. Makes it feel...like home, I think.”

“Takeru says the same thing,” Aguni answers with a chuckle, “although I also think he just doesn’t want to put in the work. He’s...not very handy.”

There is a second door at the very back of the shop, and once again, Aguni holds it open for you. Perhaps his original air of discontent was a simple case of shyness—maybe he just takes a bit to warm up to people. Well, just wait until he tries your homemade triple-chocolate silk pie; you’ll be best friends in no time!

He leads you into a tiny courtyard, which is just barely big enough to hold a steep set of metal stairs and a handful of plant pots, which remain empty due to the early spring cold. But, oh, it must be so lovely back here when the plants are in full bloom! You say as much to your companion, who actually manages to smile a bit in your direction as he leads you up the stairs.

“Those are mine, actually,” he tells you, his boot-covered feet thunking up the stairs at a leisurely pace, “He lets me garden back here.”

You picture it—this tall, stoic man, kneeling on the ground, his gloved hands tending little green sprouts as the morning sun shines gold and warm on the cold stone ground. The thought of it warms you. Does he know anything about succulents? You’ve always thought they would look so cute in the shop...

“Look,” Aguni says when the two of you reach a very drab-looking door, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but...you sure you’re ready for this?”

What an odd thing to say! Maybe you’re acting more nervous than you originally thought? It is rather daunting, walking into a party of strangers; but, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You’re sweet for worrying about me,” you respond, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but if everyone is half as lovely as you, I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I will probably stick with you for a while—if that’s okay, of course!”

“Alright, then.” Aguni says—and is that a hint of a blush you see creeping up his neck? All this time, you thought he was just being strange, but he’s just a little shy! You give his arm a knowing pat before withdrawing your touch, and he quickly turns around to unlock the door.

Are all of Takeru’s friends this adorable? You hope so. You follow your bashful escort inside—the genkan is already full of shoes, but you manage to squeeze yours in between a pair of snakeskin wedge heels and the wall. Aguni also removes his boots, and you’re happy he isn’t going to stay down in the hat shop the whole time. He can introduce you to everyone, and maybe—

You hear something. Was that...? No, no, you must be imagining things. You definitely did not just hear a woman moan on the other side of the wall. You stop and angle your head towards the door slightly to get a better listen. It’s all rather muffled (it must be well-insulated!) but there’s definitely some kind of music playing. Maybe it’s part of a song?

It happens again. This time, it’s deeper, and more of a prolonged “ah” sound. And then laughter. Aguni is looking at you in that concerned way of his again.

Instead of waiting for him to open the door for you a third time, you decide to take initiative and open it yourself—a show of confidence, to put his mind at ease. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try and stop you, but he instead just crosses his arms and watches as you open the door to the rest of the house.

The first thing you see is candles. Little flickering spots of yellow-orange flame, winking inside clear glass votives. A trio of them on the kitchen table to the left, surrounded by a mismatched variety of trays and plates and bowls, each holding a different delicacy.

There’s a candle on the kitchen counter, next to the refrigerator. One on a bookshelf, which is filled to bowing with vinyl LP’s. Two on either side of the television, and a cluster of them on a coffee table next to a fishbowl of shiny gold squares and—

Oh.

Oh, dear.

There are limbs. Moving, writing, reaching. Hands grabbing. Mouths kissing. Mouths...doing things other than kissing. Oh, God, there’s boobs. And somebody’s butt. Aw, geez, there goes another one. How many naked people are there in here, anyways?

“Oh, hey!”

A familiar voice calls out from the fleshy throng, and your stomach drops. Like Venus emerging from the surf, you see Danma Takeru rise up from the crowd, hair mussed and smiling mouth smudged with at least two different colors of lipstick. While he does appear to be wearing some kind of brightly-patterned robe, the more he stands, the less confident you are that it’s actually covering anything.

You spin on your heel, unwilling as of the moment to become visually acquainted with your host’s penis, and you’re met once more with Aguni’s concerned stare. This time, though, you understand why he’s looking at you like that, and it makes the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck that much hotter.

“Do you want to leave?”

This is. Oh, boy. This is a lot. Aguni must be able to sense your discomfort, although you imagine it’s rather palpable at the moment.

“I,” you say, “I don’t...know.”

And you say you don’t know because you truly don’t know what to do. Was it really so naïve of you to think that the ‘orgy’ part of the invitation was some kind of weird inside joke? Is there some kind of social protocol for these things?

You feel two hands descend upon each of your shoulders, and you try to convince yourself that they are slightly damp with sweat as opposed to any other kind of aqueous material.

“You made it,” Takeru exclaims with genuine excitement as he gives your person a gentle shake, “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“He’s covered, don’t worry,” Aguni says to you before directing his attention over your shoulder, “I take it you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

The hand on your right shoulder stays while the left slips away, leaving room for Takeru to stand at your side and squeeze you against him in a weird little half-hug. In another situation, you might enjoy the way the silk of his robe whispers against the skin of your arms, perhaps smile at the warm comfort of a lazy arm thrown about your shoulders like a heavy scarf, but. Well. Right now, it’s just a little...awkward.

Aguni rolls his eyes.

“About that,” he says, gesturing impatiently at the debauchery behind your back, “I mean, just look at her face.”

“Mori-chan, how could you be so rude to our lovely guest? Darling,” Takeru says, turning your face towards him with two fingers under your chin, “don’t listen to him, you’re...ah, I see what you mean.”

Is your expression really that bad? It must be, because Takeru very slowly and very carefully withdrawing his arm from around your shoulder and taking a generous step to the side. His mouth is twisted into a rather comical gaping frown, his eyes nervously darting side-to-side.

“In my defense,” he says, putting his hands up like some kind of fucked-out traffic cop at a four-way intersection, “the, uh, the orgy part was very prominent. Big letters, right at the top.”

“I,” you reply, “I thought it was...a joke?”

“This is why we don’t just hand out invitations,” Aguni grits through his teeth, “for fuck’s sake, Takeru, we’ve talked about this!”

“I know, I know. I am humble enough to admit when I’ve fucked up, and this time, I have fucked up in a truly spectacular fashion,” Takeru’s gaze shifts from horrified to quizzical as he scrutinized you for a moment, “Unless...you’d like to stay?”

You look at the pie. The slowly-warming chocolate is beginning to sweat beneath the thin film of plastic wrap you so lovingly secured with lilac ribbon.

“Or you could slap him on the way out,” Aguni offers, “he’s very slap-able.”

“It’s true! And when you slap me,” he whips his head to the side suddenly, “my hair does that and it looks really cool!”

Yeah, okay—it did look pretty cool. But, does he deserve to be slapped? Probably for something else, but not for this. It’s a simple misunderstanding, and honest mistake on both your parts.

“I want...” you start, and the way they’re looking at you, wide-eyed and breath-bated, reminds you of the final rose ceremony on The Bachelorette.

It’s kind of hilarious, actually.

“I, uh,” you continue, “I want to...to put this in the refrigerator, if that’s okay? It’s, uh, starting to melt...”

To say that Takeru’s face lights up is an understatement. With a mega-watt smile and a sparkle in his eye, he swoops his arm back around your shoulder and begins leading you towards the kitchen.

Although you have (almost) gotten used to the sea of strangers fucking and moaning in the background, you still choose to politely avert your gaze as you pass them by. You instead focus on Takeru, who has taken this opportunity to explain the inner-workings of...whatever this is.

“...And I personally see to it that these events remain exclusive,” he says, “Although I do occasionally invite outsiders, such as yourself. You were just so sweet and helpful, I couldn’t resist trying my luck and sending you an invite.”

“Thank you,” you say, “although, I, uh...”

He opens the refrigerator door and motions for you to place the pie inside. Luckily, it’s mostly empty, save for a collection of bottled water and a tin of what looks to be cat food. You’re grateful to not have to carry it around anymore, and thank him for his assistance.

It’s finally time for you to acknowledge the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’—except, you’re not exactly sure how to begin.

“I,” you start, stopping to bite your lip, “I, uh. Is it okay if I...don’t, y’know, do the whole...uh...sex thing?”

“Oh, do you prefer to watch?”

“No! I mean, no, uh,” you laugh nervously, “I’m just...”

Takeru chuckles.

“I’m only teasing. You’re more than welcome to skip the sex and go straight to the food. As long as you’re on the kitchen side, nobody will touch you. It’s one of our rules.”

He motions for Aguni to come over with a wave of his arm, smiling when the tall man comes to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Mori-chan also prefers to abstain from the more salacious aspects of our little gathering, so the two of you can keep each other company.”

“I’m usually in charge of the food,” Aguni adds, “and I try to make sure the candles stay lit.”

“I, uh, I noticed those on the way in. They’re nice.”

Takeru leans towards you as if he’s about to share a secret.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” he says in a low tone, “but there is a certain stench that comes with these events. Sweat, musk, various secretions...it all really adds up in the end.”

“It’s awful,” Aguni concludes, “but candles help dissipate the worst of it.”

“Oh, and the ambiance,” Takeru exclaims, “there’s just nothing like candlelight to really get people in the mood for—“

A sharp ding! makes you jump. From what you can gather, it came from the small oven to Aguni’s left.

“Hold it right there,” Takeru growls towards Aguni, who had been in the middle of donning a pair of floral-printed oven mitts, “she needs thirty more seconds.”

Aguni looks at you and rolls his eyes. You stifle a giggle behind your hand, hoping your host doesn’t notice.

“I saw that,” Takeru snips towards Aguni, “honestly, Mori-chan, you get one new friend...”

And even though he’s mid-scold, there remains a joviality to Takeru’s tone—a testament, you believe, to what can only be a long-standing friendship between him and Aguni. It’s hard not to feel jealous of their easy back-and-forth, their banter like a well-matched game of tennis.

“Now you can take her out,” Takeru says, “but, so help me God, if you don’t let her rest for seven minutes–“

“–They’ll never find my body, I know, I know,” Aguni finishes, gingerly placing a metal pan on the stove, “Look, we’ve got it handled. You can go back to your side of the party and I’ll call you when it’s plated.”

“Fine,” Takeru answers with a false pout, “but only because I know she’ll keep you honest.”

And just like that, it’s just you and Aguni once more—but, this time, he seems much more at ease to have you around. Happy, almost. It must be kind of boring, sitting alone in a kitchen while everyone else is...well, busy.

“So,” you say, moving to Aguni’s side to peer into the baking pan, “looks kind of like...a quiche?”

“Not just any quiche,” Aguni answers, opening the drawer to his right and digging a hand inside, “the best quiche in Tokyo.”

He pulls out a shiny silver chef’s knife and places it on the counter. Next comes a pair of dainty forks, delicate little things one might use for tea cakes at a French-inspired bistro. Knowing what you know about Takeru—which, granted, isn’t very much at all—it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“You’re in front of the plates,” he says, tapping the cabinet directly in front of your face, “grab us some?”

“But we’re supposed to wait seven minutes,” you protest, all while following his instructions, “it’s only been...like, three.”

Aguni’s eyes take on a glint of mischief.

“Only a problem if we get caught.”

Honestly, it looks divine. Pillowy-soft and the perfect pale-yellow hue, delicate tendrils of steam billowing out as he drags the knife through. You hadn’t ever seen a non-rectangular quiche before, but you suppose it makes sense; there are a fair few people in attendance, and the standard circular composition wouldn’t quite feed everyone.

He serves you first. A corner piece (which he insists are the best), speckled with herbs and studded with little pieces of what you assume to be some kind of ham. Little strings of cheese stick to the blade of the knife, and Aguni scrapes them off with the side of a fork, which he then hands to you.

“Takeru doesn’t cook much,” Aguni explains, playing his own small square, “but when he does...”

The sound that comes from your mouth as you take your first bite of quiche could rival any of those happening in the orgy across the room. Oh, that is so good! Buttery crust, the salt of cheese and ham, the subtle bite of onion—and there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place, but you know it tastes absolutely heavenly. Immediately, you take another bite.

“Grew the herbs de Provence myself,” Aguni mentions, “He refuses to use store-bought.”

“Makes all the difference,” you respond, “I could eat the whole pan by myself.”

“I did that for my last birthday, actually,” Aguni chuckles around a forkful of quiche, “Takeru insisted on putting all thirty-eight candles in before carrying it to the table—you know, like a dumbass. Part of his hair caught fire, and I had to give him a haircut at two in the morning because he was so distraught.”

The two of you laugh—Aguni at the memory, and you at the idea of a tearful Takeru sulking as Aguni snipping the fried locks with a pair of kitchen shears.

“He forgave me, even though I took a whole two inches off,” Aguni sets his empty plate in the sink and looks out of the small window above it, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Doesn’t always make the best choices, sure, but he’s got a good heart in him.”

There is a sadness here, something in Aguni that speaks to a troubled past you haven’t quite unearthed yet—and you know better than to press him, especially here, especially now.

“Well, I can’t say I’m an expert,” you say, handing him your plate, “but you two seem like decent people. Orgies aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Aguni nods, “though I don’t suppose you’ll come to the next one, will you?”

For the first time since your arrival, you allow yourself to watch the festivities happening across the room. It isn’t that bad, you suppose—it’s just a group of people having a fun time together, laughing and gasping and enjoying each others’ bodies in a safe and comfortable place. It’s not something you necessarily want to do yourself, but...well, the ‘weird’ factor of the whole thing has gone down exponentially over the past hour or so.

“And miss out on the best quiche in Tokyo,” you say, nudging against Aguni’s arm with your shoulder, “not a chance!”

[b0kut0luvr]

late night drive with bokuto koutaro (1275 words)

angst, fluff, gn!reader, college!au, friends to lovers you hadn't had the best of days, and your best friend realized this. throughout all of your classes, at meals, studying at your favorite study place, you just felt off. every time someone asked if you were okay, you responded saying you were just tired, but your best friend knew you better than that. he could tell that something was on your mind and you couldn't shake it no matter what you did. as you lay in bed and feel tears starting to form in your eyes, you get a text from the person that's been on your mind all day, your best friend bokuto koutaro.

today was just one of those days that your crush on him was front and center in your mind. you wouldn't care as much as you usually do when he's constantly on your mind if he hadn't talked in your groupchat for an hour about the person he has a crush on. you couldn't help but think it was someone else, there was no way it could have been you.

"they're just so.. sweet and caring. always there for me, helping me with schoolwork, offering support, i really couldn't ask for more" bokuto said, causing the other members of your groupchat to pitch in, asking him questions.

"do they have long hair?" kuroo said, "people with long hair are the best."

"what games do they play, because if they don't play animal crossing with you, you don't deserve them" kenma pitched in for the only time that night, probably to just say something and go back to playing his games.

"are they good at helping you get out of your emo mode?" akaashi asked. "if they aren't you need to find someone who is"

you couldn't bring yourself to ask anything, despite how much you wanted to. you didn't wanna ask something and have it accidentally be obvious that it was about you, nor did you want to ask something super generic and have him give an answer that doesn't pertain to you. you just stayed silent, reading the messages. that night you didn't sleep well, thinking of every other person in his life that it could be. although you did all the things he mentioned, you weren't the only person to do them. you helped him with his schoolwork, but so did the girl he sat next to. you offered support but so did his roommate. you played the games he said his crush did, but so did the people you two usually play with. according to you, there was no way it was you.

that's why when you got a text from bokuto saying "don't get ready for bed, i noticed you were feeling off today so i wanna take you on a drive to help you feel better." you considered saying you were just about to go to sleep, but something inside you told you to go with him, so you did.

so here you are. in his car, eating your favorite snacks, listening to your favorite songs on a playlist he made for nights like this, joking around with each other parked in a random parking lot. you were starting to forget the thoughts that had plagued you all day, telling you that it had to be someone else that he was talking about, running through all the ways it could have not been you when he popped the question you had been dreading.

"so, what's been on your mind? what have you been thinking about? please be honest, you know i can tell when you're lying" immediately, everything started washing over you again. you know you can't lie, but you don't wanna tell him how much you're in love with him. so you start by making him promise you something.

"kou, can you promise me that no matter what i say, i won't lose you as a friend?" you say, with a shaky tone in your voice.

"y/n, of course. i'm always going to be here." he responded, turning to you and taking your hands in his.

you sigh before starting. "kou, it's you. you've been on my mind all day. i've... i've had a crush on you ever since we met. i didn't wanna say anything or make any moves because i didn't think you'd be into me like that and i don't wanna make you uncomfortable." you say with your head down, not having the courage to look at him and not wanting him to see the tears starting to fall down your cheeks. "hearing you talking about the person you like last night, it broke my heart because i know that it's not me you want to be with. you're just so perfect and amazing and there's so much that i lack in comparison to everyone else you kno-"

you stop abruptly because of the surprise of him picking your head up with both hands by the cheeks. he looks into your eyes for a second, just long enough for you to notice the pain in them before he pulls you in for a kiss. it's sweet and soft, you can feel a bit of hesitation in his actions. before you can react, he pulls away from you and begins to put his hands onto your shoulders. you then, in a burst of confidence, take inspiration from his actions and grab him by the cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss. he immediately raises his hand to cup your face while the other wraps around your head as he melts into the kiss. after a minute or two, you two allow each other to pull away and you make eye contact.

"y/n, you really are stupid sometimes." he says with a soft, loving smile. "sure other people might help me with things, offer me support, be there for me when i need them, but you're always there without fail. you're always the first person i go to for those things. seeing you talk about yourself like that makes me really sad, please don't do that"

"so... does this mean-" you begin to question before getting cut off.

"it means i love you with everything in me. it means i want to call you mine. so please, say you'll be mine." he says, resting his forehead on yours.

overwhelmed with emotion, you can't seem to stop the tears from falling. "kou, of course i'll be yours. i wouldn't want to be anyone else's"

"thank god," he says, chuckling. you can tell he's feeling much better when he lifts his head to exclaim "finally, now i can tell the entire world that i have the best partner ever and make them all jealous i have someone as amazing as you!!" when he opens his eyes, he's delighted to see that you're smiling right back at him, wiping your tears away. you're delighted to know you no longer have to wonder and worry about who it might be that he loves, as well as the delight coming from seeing the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you with all the love in the world.

the rest of the night is spent the way it started; listening to your favorite songs and eating your favorite snacks. but instead of just goofing off while anxiety sticks in the back of your mind, you two tell stories about what made you fall for one another while holding hands, occasionally giving each other a kiss or two. when you get back to your room at the end of the night, you rest well knowing you have the man of your dreams to call yours and nothing to worry about.

[gingwrites]

Untitled Vampire AU (ot7) - Part 6

Series Masterlist | BTS Masterlist

Summary: Min Yoongi gets turned into a vampire and abandoned by his sire, but is adopted by the Kim coven.

aka

I decided to turn my one shot about maknae yoongi teething as a vampire into a full fic. Title subject to change. I just really have no idea what to name it right now.

Pairing: Established ot6, future ot7

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The next few days passed in the same fashion, Yoongi sleeping most of the day away, and during the few times he was awake, he was eating. It was still a battle to get Yoongi to slow down while drinking, giving himself a tummy ache most of the time, though never as bad as that first one. The others were content to take turns watching over him.

“Why’s he sleeping so much?” Well, mostly content. “I just want to play with the baby and get to know him!” Jungkook whined.

“He’s a baby, Kookie,” Seokjin sighed. The three maknaes had been getting a little restless lately, spending more and more time watching over Yoongi, waiting for the moment he would next wake up.

“So?”

“So? Do you not remember anything about when you changed?” Seokjin replied. “You know very well that vampire changes don’t happen instantaneously. His body is changing and it’s taking a toll on him. He needs all the rest he can get.”

“Oh,” Jungkook pouted. He wanted to spend time with the baby, but he definitely wanted him to be healthy.

Seokjin patted the seat next to him on the couch, indicating for the younger boy to join him, which he happily did, launching himself into his hyung’s side. Seokjin let out a grunt when Jungkook landed on him, but a smile still spread over his face at the younger’s antics.

“I know you really want to spend some quality time with the baby, but right now, the best thing for him is to sleep and eat. You have all the time in the world to get to know him. Have a little patience,” Seokjin soothed, pulling Jungkook further under his arm.

“Okay, hyung,” the younger boy still pouted, but this time his lip wasn’t sticking out quite as much since he was getting cuddled.

After about a week of Yoongi being with the Kim coven, Yoongi started staying awake for longer periods of time and being more aware when he was, causing the maknaes to be constantly surrounding their new baby, always wanting to be the one to hold his attention.

“So now that I think I’ve finally had a chance to process everything, I have a few questions,” Yoongi asked one night when they were all gathered in the living room after Yoongi’s feeding. 

“Ask away,” Seokjin nodded, happy to see that Yoongi seemed to be accepting the fact that he was a vampire now. Maybe all he had needed was a chance to process it internally and let his body take some much needed rest.

“Okay, so I know we don’t sparkle in the sun from personal experience,” Yoongi started, glancing over at Jimin when the older vampire let out a small growl at the mention of the state he had been in when found. “But, does the sun actually kill us, or is it just really, really painful?”

“Well, you’re a baby, so the sun is more harmful to you than it is to someone older, like me,” Seokjin replied. “You’ll eventually build up a sort of tolerance to it, but that will take a while. If you were to stay out in the sun for a long period of time now, it could kill you, but it would be a super slow and painful death.”

“So you’re not going anywhere near a window or outside anytime soon,” Namjoon commanded. The others all nodded their heads in agreement. Yoongi wasn’t about to argue with them. He never wanted to feel that pain again.

“But like I said, as you get older, you’ll build a tolerance to it,” Seokjin continued. “It won’t kill you once that happens, but you can still get burned, though not anywhere near as bad and it would take a longer period of time in the sun.”

“Okay,” Yoongi nodded, taking in the new information. “Next question: I thought I was supposed to have fangs?”

Seokjin chuckled, but before he could respond, Jungkook spoke up.

“You mean like these?” Jungkook had a massive grin on his face when Yoongi looked over. Two little glints caught his eye, and Yoongi leaned over before he could stop himself. Without even thinking about it, he brought his hand up to Jungkook’s mouth and gently touched the tip of one of the shiny teeth that he’d never seen before.

“Ow!” Yoongi quickly pulled his hand back, sticking his finger in his mouth to help soothe the pain.

“You hurt the baby!” Taehyung yelled, leaning over to slap Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m okay!” Yoongi quickly reassured, not wanting the others to blame Jungkook or see Jungkook sad that Yoongi had hurt himself because he was dumb enough to touch a vampire fang.

“Back to your question,” Seokjin spoke up, ceasing the small slapping fight Jungkook and Taehyung had gotten into, “You will get fangs, but it’s not an overnight process. Think like an actual human baby. Their teeth come in slowly and they go through a teething process. The rest of your body has gone, and will continue to go, through changes for about the next six months or so. It’s one of the reasons why you’ve been sleeping so much lately. Your body needs a chance to recover from all the changes.”

“Okay. Can we see our reflection?” Yoongi asked next.

“Yes,” Seokjin stated simply.

“We actually used to not be able to,” Namjoon followed up. “Nowadays, mirrors are made of different materials than they used to be, but vampiric myths obviously haven’t caught up.”

“Garlic?”

Everyone but Seokjin (and Yoongi) burst into laughter, Jin’s entire face turning red.

“What? What’d I say?” Yoongi questioned, confused as to why that had been funny.

“You can blame that entire myth on Seokjin!” Jimin was able to get out through his laughter.

“Jin was allergic to garlic when he was human,” Hoseok started.

“And it somehow carried over when he was turned,” Namjoon continued when Hoseok couldn’t because he was laughing so hard. Yoongi snuck a glance over a Seokjin who was still as red as a tomato.

“Our Jinnie here is old enough to have been around when people still believed vampires and other ‘mythological’ creatures were real,” Namjoon continued the story. “The village he was living in decided he was a vampire and had captured him. They were holding him in a barn while they were attempting to set up a pyre to burn him at the stake. It was a very dramatic time if you can imagine.

“But, it was harvest season and the owner of the barn had just harvested all his crops. Jin was tied up next to a basket full of, you guessed it, garlic. His allergy is so bad that even smelling it can sometimes cause him to break out in hives and his throat to close up. Which is exactly what happened. The humans quickly figured out what the garlic was doing, but they wrongly assumed that it would kill him and that it applied to all vampires.

“Luckily, Seokjin was able to escape before any lasting damage was done, but the myth stuck and was quickly passed around from village to village,” Namjoon finished the story, much to the amusement of the others.

“I hate you all,” Seokjin mumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Love you, too, hyung!” Taehyung sing-songed.

Yoongi couldn’t help the small smile on his face. It was a little funny if he was being honest. And raised the question of how old Seokjin actually was, but he guessed that was a question for another time.

“Do you have any more questions?” Seokjin asked, trying to get the others to move on and leave him in peace (which he knew was never going to happen, but he loved them all the same).

Yoongi thought for a moment, thinking of all the vampire movies he’d seen in his lifetime, which surprisingly wasn’t a lot. He had never really been much of a supernatural fan, which he found ironic now.

“Super speed? Super healing? Super strength?”

“Yes, yes, and yes, though there are limitations,” Namjoon was the one that answered this time. “We’re definitely not as fast or as strong as the movies make us out to be, but we definitely have an advantage over humans. But you’ll need to learn to control both once you’ve finally finished your transformation.”

“As for healing,” Seokjin took over, “There are limitations for that as well. You have to be well fed for you to have accelerated healing, which is why your burns were so bad when Jimin found you. You hadn’t fed, so your burns couldn’t heal.”

“So what can kill me?” Yoongi asked nervously, not really sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

“Most things that would kill a human won’t kill you,” Namjoon replied. “Besides the sun when you’re still a baby, a stake through the heart, fire, silver bullet, and decapitation. Those are pretty much the only things that humans have continued to get right over the years. You can’t get sick, and even if you’re injured, no matter how bad the injury, as long as you can feed, you’ll heal just fine.”

Yoongi nodded, taking in all the new information. He felt like his brain was going to explode. There was so much to learn, but at least he had forever (literally) to learn it all. And people who would teach him and actually seemed to like teaching him.

“Just one more question for now,” Yoongi said after another moment of processing, feeling himself starting to get tired again. “Is there anything else that’s super important to know about vampires? I mean, can we fly? Do we have special powers? Can I read minds?”

The others laughed, causing a smile to spread across Yoongi’s face at his silly suggestions.

“No, no flying or mind reading,” Hoseok laughed.

“Ooo! But some vampires do have special powers!” Jungkook bounced in his seat.

“Like Jin hyung!” Taehyung all but yelled.

Yoongi quickly turned to the older vampire, not expecting this turn of events. Seokjin’s eyes flashed purple, but he blinked and they were back to their normal brown, making Yoongi wonder if he’d just been seeing things.

“So you have special powers?” Yoongi asked, curious as to why this hadn’t been brought up before.

“Yes, I have special powers,” Seokjin spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Not all vampires have powers. It’s very rare and is different from person to person.”

The room was quiet while Yoongi processed his words.

“Oh! What if Yoongi has powers?” Jungkook yelled, causing the fledgling to jump.

“He doesn’t,” Namjoon quickly spoke up, crushing any hope that Yoongi might have already had about potentially having special powers. “You know they show up once a fledgling is turned. None of us saw anything, so no powers, unfortunately. Like Seokjin said, they’re very rare.”

Yoongi had turned to look at Namjoon while he spoke, but Yoongi saw Seokjin flinch  ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye at Namjoon’s words, but by the time he’d glanced over, Yoongi didn’t see anything amiss. That’s the second time his eyes seemed to be playing tricks on him. Maybe he was more tired than he felt.

“Alright, that’s enough questions for now. We can answer any more questions you have tomorrow,” Seokjin spoke up, taking command of the room. “Time for you to get back to sleep, baby. You’re barely sitting up on your own as it is.” 

Before Yoongi could process it, he was laid across the couch, head in Hoseok’s lap, blanket tucked around his body, Hoseok’s hands running through his hair. Yoongi’s eyes slipped shut before anyone could even tell him ‘goodnight.’

As Seokjin washed Yoongi’s bloody thermos in the sink later that night, he kept thinking about their conversation. He still hadn’t told the others about what he had seen. If he’d even seen anything at all. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from them, but he didn’t want to cause a mess if it was all for nothing. It was just nothing, right? It had to have been a trick of the light. Afterall, no magic had manifested itself since then.

Seokjin shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. It was nothing. It had been nothing. There was no way that Yoongi had powers, had those powers. Maybe if he kept repeating it, it’d be true. 

.

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Finally an update! I finally had inspiration for what I wanted to happen in this chapter this afternoon, so I've been working on this update since then! I hope you all like it! Let me know what you think! If you have any fluffy ideas/requests, let me know here, on ao3, or twitter/curious cat (@/yoongismandu)! I want to have a bit more 'normal life' and Yoongi adjusting to being a vampire before I get into the plot that I actually have planned for this fic.

[ahh-fxck]

For the Two-part Drabble Game: Geraskier, Situation 25, Sentence 24. Have fun and thank you ☺️

25 - Being somewhere you’re not supposed to be

24 - “I never want you to feel like you’re not good enough.”

All right, here you go @elliestormfound! Thanks for the ask! This was a fun little piece to write, I hope you enjoyed it :) Here is the link to the story on ao3

Geralt flexed his fingers, sore from hanging on the ladder after so long. Below him, a river of detritus and sewage boils around the foot of the ladder. Above him is the closed lid of one of the access points, which he’d been forced to duck into at the last minute as he was running to escape an angry crowd. It had hardly been his fault that they hadn’t wanted to pay. Once the man he’d presented his bounty to had started shouting, it hadn’t taken long for a crowd to gather. And once the first rock had been thrown, he knew it was time to make a swift exit. 

He hangs there, listening carefully to the sounds of the street above. Below him, the water rushes and gurgles, stinking its way out to the sea. Above, he can still hear the occasional angry voice raised in protest.

From below him on the ladder, feet inches above the sewage, floats a voice. “Are they gone yet, Geralt?”

“Not yet,” Geralt growls quietly down at his companion. “Be quiet.”

“All right, it’s just, we’ve been here for hours and my limbs feel like they’re going to fall off, and it stinks something horrible in here.” Jaskier complained, shifting the lute case on his back. “Did we really have to flee into the sewer?”

Geralt peers down at him in the darkness.

“Fine. Next time I’ll let you lead us away from the angry mob,” he replies drily.

Jaskier grumbles, shifting again. “Are they gone yet, Geralt? My arms are killing me.”

“No,” Geralt grumbles. “They’re still searching the market.”

“Should we try finding another exit?”

“Do you want to wade in monster infested sewage?”

“Oh Melitele, there’s monsters in there?” Jaskier gasped, climbing up a couple of rungs suddenly. It put his head near Geralt’s calves. His dirty pants frankly didn’t smell any better than the rest of the sewer, but at least the supposed monster infesting them was a known quantity.

“Don’t stick your ankles in the water and you’ll be fine,” Geralt points out, unimpressed. He shifts his feet so that he doesn’t accidentally step on Jaskier’s fingers. They fall into an unhappy silence, suspended between the sewage and the angry people in the market above.

Jaskier is silent for a long moment, then he asks in a muffled voice, “Geralt? Why are people so awful?”

Geralt goes still, cocking his head to the side as he takes that in. He falls into a long silence, which grows heavier and heavier with each passing moment. When he answers, his voice is quiet.

“They’re just scared. I’m different. It’s not their fault.”

Below him, Jaskier gapes, then puffs angrily. “That’s crap and you know it!” he hisses quietly. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, and if they can’t see that they’re bloody blind.” His fingers tremble on the ladder, his muscles screaming as he demands they continue to hold him in this unaccustomed position.

“Lot of blind people, then.” Geralt notes mildly, then ducks down away from the lid at the top of the ladder, gesturing for Jaskier to be quiet. Overhead there is a boiling murmur of voices, shuffling footsteps. After a while, they move off.

“Well, that bloody jeweler better get ready for fame. Yorik the Pig-Fucker has a nice ring to it,” Jaskier seethes quietly into the yawning silence left in the wake of the people moving away. “And I’m going to write a hell of a ballad about how you took care of his troll problem, too. Geralt’s jaw tightens, and his hot golden eyes rake over Jaskier below him in the darkness.

“I talked the troll into finding new territory, Jaskier. There’s nothing epic about that.”

“Tell that to my new ballad,” Jaskier mutters grumpily, shifting his legs to try to ease their stiffness. Geralt glares down at him, but the glare slowly softens.

“Why?” he asks, examining the bard as best he can from where he’s standing.

“Why what?” 

“The songs? The...” he grimaces in distaste. “Following me?”

Jaskier looks back up at him thoughtfully. He’s asked this before, but every now and then, it comes up again, as if he can’t wrap his head around the idea that Jaskier likes him. Jaskier licks his lips, taking an uncharacteristically long moment before replying.

“People go out of their way to tell you that you’re not enough. That you’re bad, or scary, or stupid. None of that is true. I sing because I never want you to feel like you’re not good enough.” 

Above him, Geralt sinks into silence, his throat closing. Jaskier’s words made him feel sore inside, uncomfortable. The human didn’t seem to understand exactly what he was, even after years of traveling with him. Even after sharing his bed. Hard to identify emotions boil inside of him, and he shifts uneasily.

Jaskier watches him from below, his own heart sinking. Geralt was the least easy person to say kind things to that he’d ever met, and it bothered him deeply. Someday, though. Someday, his Witcher would finally hear him without flinching.

At the top of the ladder, Geralt listens as the voices finally begin to disperse. He glances down at Jaskier, who is shivering miserably beneath him. His own muscles are sore from holding the same position for hours, he can only imagine what kind of pain his bard is in. Nevertheless, he waits until the sounds of the market have dispersed entirely and the scent of night wafts down from the access point before he moves again. Beneath him, Jaskier gives an exhausted whimper as Geralt shifts and climbs up a few rungs to peek out from below the cover.

The rush of relatively fresh air is a relief to his desperately sensitive nose. It might still stink of urine and horse dung, but at least it hadn’t spent miles rolling atop a river of sewage. Gulping in the fresh air, he surveys the street. Finally, it’s empty. Quickly as his sore muscles will allow, he scrambles out of the sewer, then reaches back down to help Jaskier. The bard swallows another whimper as he begins to climb, his stiff muscles screaming.

“Geralt! Put me down!” Jaskier complains as Geralt begins to jog up the street, staying close to the shadows where he can.

As soon as Jaskier is in reach, Geralt leans down and fists the back of Jaskier’s doublet, dragging both him and his lute carefully out of the sewer. He deposits them on the cobbles and helps Jaskier stagger upright. The hours of standing suspended have taken a toll on his human companion, who winces as he flexes his legs and looks around the empty street.

“Back to Roach?”

“Hmm.” Geralt agrees. He watches the bard stagger a few steps, sighs, and heaves him over his shoulder in one easy movement.

“Be quiet. We need to get out of here. You can barely move,” Geralt grumbles, picking up his pace. Thankfully, at this time of night the city is far less crowded, and he is able to make his way to the outskirts with relatively little interference, bard slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Jaskier bubbles and puffs with irritation, but much to Geralt’s relief, remains relatively quiet until he sets him down some time later. Jaskier staggers, but by now at least a modicum of feeling has returned to his legs, and he rights himself quickly.

He goes to the Witcher, grabbing his arm gently. Geralt turns to face him, expression unreadable in the darkness of the alleyway near the inn. Jaskier regards him seriously, then reaches up and gently tucks some of Geralt’s hair away from his face.

“You are special to me. You know that?” He asks, fingers lingering softly on Geralt’s dirty cheek. Geralt regards him in the darkness, his golden eyes catching the little moonlight and glowing with it. His face remains stony, but Jaskier can see the little muscles in his face, especially at the corners of his eyes soften into a vulnerable look of confusion. Jaskier can see it because he’s known Geralt for so many years. Stepping closer, Jaskier cups his cheek, pressing his chest lightly against the Witcher’s armored body. He smells awful, they both do, but at least in the fresh air it’s bearable.

“And one day, you might even believe it,” Jaskier says with a soft smile, tilting his head to the side as he regards his handsome Witcher in the moonlight. Then, he leans up and presses his lips to Geralt’s, eyes sliding shut. Geralt stiffens, then hesitantly leans in to deepen the kiss. Jaskier hums a soft note of happiness. Someday would come soon enough. For now, he would just have to show the Witcher exactly how special he was... as soon as they’d both had a bath.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

It's funny how you haven't changed a bit,  but you're twice as pretty.

Summary: Despite your relationship ending years ago, Bishop has spent your time apart repairing your car in hopes it’d allow him to see you again. 

A/N: Randomly came up with this idea a while back when thinking about the lack of backstory for Bishop. Probably trash but...I’m doing whatever I can to drag you nonbelievers into the most deserving Mayan’s lane. 

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Reader

Warning: I know I said there’d be fluff but all I got was angst. 

Request: Bishop x his ex reunite.

Words: 1.7K

You sit on the steps of your front porch. Your elbows rest against your bare knees, your chin in the palms of your hands. The passing cars and teenagers laughing and strolling beneath the streetlights hold your attention. 

Despite the setting sun, the air is humid. Your hair is pulled up, resting at the top of your crown, your shoulders are nearly bare-apart from the thin straps of the sundress you wear. 

You've been waiting in the same spot for nearly fifteen minutes.

Leaving now. Headed your way.

The message from Bishop was one you'd been waiting for all day. He'd stopped by your job at the start of the week. Unannounced. Your arrival back to town had come as a surprise. He was the first person you thought about once you pulled your uHaul truck into the driveway of your house. 

Was he still here?

Your answer arrived three weeks later when you bumped into him at the store. 

"I was hoping I could see you, Friday. I have something I wanna show you." He'd shared when he stopped by your office this Monday.

You're waiting for the roar of his bike, maybe that's why you don't notice that he's arrived until a set of headlights shine across your driveway. Beneath the streetlights, you can make out the black car he’s driving. The familiar grille and license plate halt your action of getting up. 

Cutting the engine, Bishop climbs out, the grin on his face growing as he takes in your expression.

You open your mouth to speak, but all you can put together is a soft laugh of disbelief.

The last time you saw the 1969 Dodge Charger RT, in driveable condition, you were twenty years old. Going into the summer before your junior year at Berkeley. Spending summers with your dad was something you'd done ever since you were a kid. He'd told he'd pay for whatever car you wanted. You'd picked out the abandoned Charger sitting in the yard of Mr. Gonzalez’s home. He had a problem with collecting vintage cars, and never actually paying to get them fixed. Your dad spent a pretty penny to get it out of Gonzalez’s lot but left it to you to fix it up. 

Naturally, you had to figure out the cheapest way.

You stopped by Romero Brothers Scrap in hopes of finding the needed parts, and someone who knew enough to fix the car. Instead, you found a 27-year-old mechanic who thought teasing you about the “scrapper” was the best way to flirt. 

With a portion of your earnings from your summer job and the granting of one date, if the car could actually drive out the lot, you left the Charger in Bishop’s hands. He'd spent the entire summer fixing it up. 

Did he know much about fixing up old muscle cars? 

Fuck no, but he figured it out. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t expected much, but Bishop somehow managed to get a car that had been parked for nearly 15 years up and running again. 

I guess the possibility of getting to take the pretty girl out was one hell of a motivator. 

That car sparked a whirlwind relationship that spanned across the entire summer. It even spilled into the first semester of your senior year. He had to work on the car when he wasn’t working his actual job. This led to a number of late nights, you keeping him company under the lights of the garage. Bishop even taught you enough to learn your way around beneath the hood, and how to get it running again if it ever broke down. 

Even as you'd both moved on with your lives, the car was the only thing you kept from your time with him. Everything else went in the trash the moment he decided he’d rather enlist then stay with you.

The Charger stayed with you for years, until the accident after your graduation from grad school. The passenger side had nearly fully caved in from the impact. Instead of paying the money to have it fixed, you left it at the same scrapyard that helped with the initial repairs. 

Bishop first saw it, abandoned in the yard, after he returned home once his stint with the military was finally complete.  

"I can count on my hand the times I've ever made you speechless." Bishop watches as his words pull your attention from the car. Your eyes meet his, the smile that lights up your face awakening something inside him he hasn’t felt in a long time.

You blink before shaking your head. 

"I didn't know you knew how to drive a stick," you giggle as his hands wrap around yours. “I thought you only knew how to ride a bike.” 

Tugging you to your feet, Bishop arches his brow as he releases you. 

"I'm pretty sure I taught you how to drive a stick," he recounts, the memories causing you both to share a smile. Taking in your sheepish expression, he chuckles. “Who buys a car they don’t how to drive?”

Your shoulders shrug as you lightly push him aside.

“Someone hoping to attract cute guys with their badass car.”

Bishop softly shakes his head. 

“Hey,” you smile as you turn on your heels. Your playful eyes meet his. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

Bishop’s eyes follow you as you send a wink his way before moving to walk around the car. You run your palm along the surface of the hood before ducking your head into the driver seat window for a look at the interior. 

“It wasn’t the car,” he admits as you glance up to meet his gaze. 

Biting back your smile, you push your weight off the door before nodding towards the hood.

“Does she still ride like she used to?”

Bishop shrugs, his arms crossing over his chest. 

His eyes meet yours, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile. “Wanna go for a ride?”

If asked about it tomorrow, you’ll blame it on the car. All of the shared memories must have caste the two of you in a shower of nostalgia. One responsible for the butterflies which flutter every time he steals a glance towards the passenger seat. The easy nature of the conversation that fills the car with the laugh you’d fallen in love with back when you were twenty, and still trying to figure out if you actually believed in soulmates.

It is also responsible for your destination. 

It’s not until you’re two hours deep in conversation that you glance out the window to realize you recognize your surroundings. 

The secluded spot is one you can still find, blindfolded, after all the time that has passed. 

It is your spot. 

At least that’s what Bishop told you the first time he took you there. 

It provides a perfect view of the town you both tried to escape when you were younger. The distant lights and muffled sounds always seeming prettier from here. 

The silence which fills the car is one that only comes from the comfort of being alone with someone you love. 

You’re seated in the passenger seat, legs crossed, back resting against the door. Your eyes steal the changes of Bishop in segments out of the fear of attracting his attention for staring a second too long. 

His head rests back against the seat, his left arm dangling out the rolled-down window. His fingers tap against the door along to the tune of the song playing quietly from the radio. His eyes focus on the view of the city just past the windshield. 

“It’s funny how some things never really change,” he notes.

As your eyes pass from him to the windshield you can’t help but wonder if the view is what he’s referring to. 

Because from where you sit, all you can think of is how he’s right. At least when it comes to the heat radiating across the surface of your skin each time you look towards the driver’s seat. 

The last time he was behind the wheel of your car you two were in a much more compromising position, yet coincidentally in the same location. 

Your eyes drop down to your fingers as you concentrate on trying to smooth out the skirt of your dress. 

The action isn’t enough to suppress the image of his fingers pressed against the softness of your hips, yours wound tight in his hair. The way his skin shone beautifully beneath the moonlight, how the cramped driver’s seat never seemed to allow you both to get close enough. 

When your eyes lift they find he’s watching you. The faint smile on his lips lets you know you’re not the only one who remembers.

You shift forward in your seat. 

Your fingers lift to trace the worn leather of his kutte, trailing to the patch resting against his chest. 

“This is different,” you note, your fingers outlining the stitched lettering. “I expected a much different uniform if I ever saw you again.” 

“Yeah,” he huffs, his eyes dropping down to follow your fingers. 

His gaze lingers, his touch brushing against the knuckle of your bare ring finger.

 As his finger rubs against the soft skin, he notes the lack of a tan line. 

His brow furrows, and you think he’s gonna ask the question on his mind but he doesn’t. 

There’s no need for him too. 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, a sigh leaving your chest as your mind briefly drifts to your bedside table. The overpriced ring presented to you during the summer after your senior year still lays tucked beneath the contents of the drawer. Your nose scrunches in irritation as you think back on the man who gave it to you. 

“Yeah. Well, that definitely didn’t last as long as I thought it would.” You admit. 

Bishop’s gaze lifts to study your features as you remove your hand from his. Your expression doesn’t provide any insight as to exactly how long it lasted. He also knows he has no right to ask. Not when he’d said he’d rather you accept another man’s proposal then wait around for him to return to a town he wanted to escape. 

“It was his loss.”

“I guess so...Anyway.” A tiny smile finds your lips as you motion around you. “Thank you for this. I can’t believe you actually thought to do this for me.”

Bishop returns the smile, his fingers finding yours.

His words come out quietly as his lips press a kiss against your knuckles. “Pienso en ti siempre.”

Releasing your hand, he gives you a final smile before shifting to refasten his seatbelt. You move to do the same as the engine roars back to life. 

Just as you’re about to fasten your seat belt you lean over the gear shift. 

Your lips press against the warmth of his cheek, the action stopping him from shifting gears. 

His touch is warm against the back of your neck, the pressure he applies willing you to decide if its best to pull back or tilt your lips to meet his. 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//i have called you darlin' and i'll say it again

Request: Can I request a super fluffy Sweet Pea/Reader, the song Make you Mine by Public is kinda song I'd recommend listening to for it, not necessarily a song fic but just like Sweet Pea flirting/crushing on reader sort of thing

hey! so i had an idea for this and i really hope you like it! its a bit different to how i usually write and maybe a little different to what you were expecting. but i dunno, i just really liked the idea. i hope you do too! (if you don’t just tell me and i’ll write something else because this is a little different to the request) also, ‘lips’ is an inside joke between me and my girlfriend, and this is going to look really weird here but if you read on you’ll get what I mean. 

From the moment Sweet Pea saw you, he knew you were the one. 

He’d finally made it to the end of the first week of college, and with the help of his roommates he’d been invited to the first party of the school year. 

If you’d asked him a year ago where he would be in 12 very long months, he definitely would not have said stood in a frat house, playing beer pong a bunch of Chad’s and Jason’s. But here he is, and to his surprise he’s actually enjoying it. A lot more than he thought he would. 

He knows he probably should be back in his dorm, studying or sleeping or whatever freshman are supposed to be doing. But after the first week he’s still feeling a little lost. He doesn’t have any of his friends as Toni and Fangs both went to different college’s in different parts of the country. Classes are long, homework’s confusing and teachers are rude. 

He’s surrounded by people that are so different from the ones back home, and so he can’t help feeling that he sticks out just a little bit. He’s unsure about the world of college, and so maybe going to a party will help him understand everything a little better.  

But then he see’s you and everything falls into place. 

You’re stood on the other side of the crowded room, a small red cup in your hand that matches those of the people around him and he looks down at his own drink, realizing that maybe he should have poured the bottle into the plastic cups everybody seems to have, even if they are ridiculously small and make him look like a giant. 

You’re laughing, your head tilted back, your nose scrunched up, your eyes closed as the people around you join in. Your little group seemingly in their own world. Complexity unaffected by the loud music and even louder people. 

He realizes he probably looks at least a little weird just staring at some stranger, but he can’t take his eyes away from you. He’s being pulled towards you, he has a need to talk to you, like his entire future balances on you. 

It takes a while, but he eventually talks to you. And after some awkward moments, the two of you are stood in the kitchen. He’s happy for the first time since he left Riverdale. You laugh at something he said that wasn’t meant to be funny and he feels the entire world fall away around him. It’s just you and him. Him trying desperately to make you laugh, and you doing it probably out of pity. 

You suggest a walk after a few minutes of shouting ‘what’ at each other trying to be heard over the music. And when he raises an eyebrow in surprise, you notice and make sure to to tell him it’s nothing funny, it’s just to talk. He agrees and you grab his hand, pulling him through the living room. 

You ask him if he knows what a french exit is and he shakes his head. You smile at him, its small but no less breathtaking and full of questions he wants answers to. ‘I’ll show you’ you say and for a second he’s worried that he’s got himself involved in something sketchy, something that Fangs told him he would have to be prepared for, something of which he told him to ‘fuck off’ for. 

But then you grab his hand and pull him towards the back door. It slams shut behind you and you’re both left standing in the back garden. It’s cold, an autumn breeze hanging around but it’s a welcome on your warm skin and you hope in the darkness that he can’t see the soft blush that dusts your cheeks.  

He watches you look around, a confused expression on your face before you look back at him, a slightly embarrassed smile settling on your lips. ‘I thought we could get out this way’. He laughs, making your smile brighten and even though you still feel embarrassed it’s not so bad anymore. 

‘We could climb over the fence.’ He suggests, you follow his gaze until the two of you are staring at a large wooden fence.

“Are you being serious?’ You ask, blinking at him. 

“It’s not that high.” 

“Maybe not for you, big foot.” 

“Wow, like I haven’t heard that one before.” He says eventually. 

“You know what they say, college is about new experiences.” You send him a sarcastic smile, to which he just laughs and shakes his head at. “Speaking of, if you want to climb over that, you’re going to have to help.” 

“Or we could just go back in and go through the front door.” He says, looking back at the house but you’re already stood by the fence, waiting with your arms crossed. 

“Nope.” You shake your head. “Once you’ve french exited, you can’t go back.” 

“French exited? Is that a word?” He asks, getting on one knee so he can help you over the fence. You smile at him before throwing your bag over the fence and grab his shoulder, ready for him to push you up. 

“Yep.” You reply, pushing yourself up and over the fence. 

“In what language?” He asks, following you shortly after. Both of you land with a thud, thankfully on your feet but Sweet Pea still gets a glare after narrowly missing your bag. 

“Mine.” 

“How did you get into college?” He asks sarcastically. 

You start to wander down the street, not waiting for him and it takes him a few seconds before he notices you’ve gone. The moon hides behind the clouds and you sigh, disappointed that there’s no stars out tonight. He watches you look up at the sky and follows your gaze. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You reply, looking back at him with a soft smile. 

“I would actually.”

He hears you sigh, deciding that tonight just a glimpse of the moon will have to be good enough, before footsteps start again. 

But he continues to look up at the sky, watching a future he so desperately wants paint itself on the cloudy canvas. 

A shy friendship that slowly evolves the more you get to know each other. With flirty conversations that always border on something else, both of you terrified to step a toe over the line. It’s filled with innuendos that neither of you pick up on until it’s too late or that make the other blush like mad.

Longing looks when the other isn’t looking that keep you up half the night. And awkward eye contact followed by weird smiles on the rare occasion that you’re caught.  

Brushing of fingers when you reach for the same thing...

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again. Stop putting the snacks on the top shelf.” 

“This is my house?!” 

“And?” 

And nudging of elbows when one of your other friends says something stupid. Both of you sharing a look because you know for a fact when you’re alone you’re going to laugh about whatever’s been said. 

Looking forward to the next day just because you get to see them and constantly checking your phone as you wait for text. Spending hours thinking of different excuses to hang out with another and even more hours afterwards thinking about the time spent together. 

Inside jokes that confuse others around you but make you both laugh louder than anybody else. 

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Sweet Pea?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Lips.”

“Okay, what the fuck does that even mean? Why are you both laughing so hard? What is so funny about lips!?!!” 

Tight chests when you see them laughing loudly with someone else. Wanting to be with each other all the time, just by their side. You don’t even have to do anything, you just want to spend time with each other. Checking to see if they’re laughing at something you’ve just said and feeling an indescribable heartache when they’re not paying any attention. 

Watching for the other to walk into a room, and when they finally arrive and smile at you, its like your whole body smiles back at them. It doesn’t matter if its at a party, a class or if they’re just visiting your dorm. 

Wanting to be the only thing they see, wanting their heart and soul. 

And when your other friends question or tease you about it, you always deny it, even if the redness of your cheeks say otherwise. And always having each others backs despite how much it might hurt. 

“Darlin-I mean Y/n.” 

“Did you just call her darling?” 

“Wha-no. I didn’t!” 

“Oh my god! Yes you did. You just called Y/n darling.” 

“I didn-” 

“Y/n, you heard that right?” 

“Nope, I dunno what you guys are talking about.” 

“thank you.” 

Thinking about what it would be like to kiss them, what their lips would feel like against yours. How they would kiss you. Would it be soft and gentle or rushed? How their hands would feel on your skin or in your hair. 

Awkward first dates turn into weekly movie dates as a couple, filled with making out more than watching the actual film and more pizza than you can both handle. Its spent laughing at cheesy rom-coms and Sweet Pea’s aversion to horror films. 

You sneaking out the next morning, trying hard not to wake his roommate, despite him knowing you’re there. And Sweet Pea always asks the same question. 

“Are you french exiting me?” 

To which you always reply, “No, and I thought that wasn’t a word.”

“To you it is so I suppose I’ll let it go.” 

You meeting his friends during the holidays, and them loving you. You and Toni talking about how hard college is, and Fangs telling you every single embarrassing Sweet Pea story, his favourite being the almost threesome with Toni and somebody else. Both Sweet Pea and Toni hate it when he tells that story, especially because he tells literally every single person he meets. Thankfully though, you find it funny but promise to not talk about it ever again. 

He meets your family and friends the next holiday and it’s your tun to be embarrassed, although none of your stories can beat his though so you don’t feel so bad. You spend the week stealing kisses when no one’s around and making sly remarks about your aunt, uncle and their snotty kid, who’s older than you but acts like a spoilt 8 year old. It’s Sweet Pea that suggests the french exit one night after dinner and thats when you realize you love him. 

He looks after you when you’re sick, and you do the same. You watch your favourite movies, cuddled up together under a mountain of blankets and tissues, despite protests of the other one getting sick. And when they inevitably do, the favour is returned. You don’t how you’re both not just constantly sick. 

There’s arguments that feel like they won’t end and days that you just don’t want to end. 

Shouting and crying and slamming of doors that always ends in long hugs and whispered apologies. 

You graduate together, one straight after the other and the two of you are smiling the entire day. Toni, Fangs and your family have flown over to see you both graduate, and they’re equally proud of you both. 

You get ready together but Sweet Pea still feels breathless when he see’s you. A small ‘wow’ escaping his lips as he watches you twirl around your room. He grabs your arm and spins you around, earning a surprised squeal from you. 

You’re never far apart from each other the whole day, wanting to be next to each other at all times. And it comes in handy when Fangs gets drunk and you have to stop him telling the threesome story to your parents. 

You made it! You did college! Well done! Now what though?

It’s time to go out into the real world and Sweet Pea feels like he did all those years ago at that party. Lost. He doesn’t know what he wants to do, where he’s going to live. 

But he watches you sleeping peacefully beside him and he knows whatever he chooses it’ll be okay, because you’re there with him. 

You figure your lives out together, making sure that the other is always a part of it. And after a while of working in some slightly stressful jobs, that aren’t really what you want to do but something you need to do to live, you save enough money to rent an apartment. It’s small, but it’ll do for now. And the two of you have fun searching for cheap furniture to fill it with. Nothing matches but its perfect and you don’t want it anyway else. 

He cooks, you do the dishes and you dance in the kitchen when certain songs come on. 

The song that were played at the party when you met and Sweet Pea can never remember the name of it so you always have to remind him. 

“Darlin’, whats that song called again? You know which one I’m on about. La, la, la, la.” 

“Make You Mine, Sweet Pea. And it’s 3am, go to sleep.” 

“Yeah! Thats the one...hey Y/n. Whats it called again?” 

“Make You Mine.” 

“Already am baby.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

The song you sang as you walked down the street together later that night, because he said something that reminded you of it. 

“Take me to your best friends, I love you then, I’ll love you now!” 

“What?” 

“You were talking about your friend Fangs.” You say, now very embarrassed at your sudden outburst. 

“His house is a bit far away but we can go if you want.” He replies making you laugh loudly.

When he gets back to his dorm the next morning, he makes a playlist, the first song in it being that one. He calls it ‘for y/n’, and he continues to add to it constantly. 

It’s got the one that reminds him of you, and to this day he still tries to fit your name into and fails miserably but it still makes you laugh and thats why he continues does it. 

That one song that played in the car on the way to getting groceries that he shout-sang for some reason and you both ended up sat in the parking lot for an extra ten minutes just singing. 

It has your go-to karaoke song that you have a little dance routine made up for, that you occasionally still practice in the kitchen, just so your moves are the best they can be for karaoke. 

He plays Make You Mine while proposing. What started as doing the dishes after dinner, ending in both of you crying while lying in a heap on the floor after you jumped on him. 

And its played again as your first dance at your wedding, but again, what starts as a very sweet and serious dance ends in you doing the routine from your karaoke song. 

He grabs your hand when everyone is too drunk to notice you’re both missing, pulling you through the endless corridors of the hotel you’re in. 

“What are we doing?” You ask as you clutch your dress with the other hand. 

“Do you know what a french exit is?” He replies, making you roll your eyes. 

“I do yes. How do you know what one is?” 

“Oh, a pretty girl showed me once.” 

“And where’s this pretty girl now?” 

“She’s married to some loser.” He shrugs making you glare at him. 

“Hey, that ‘loser’ is my best friend. And I know for a fact that whoever is marrying him is the luckiest woman in the world.” You scold and he rolls his eyes. 

He pulls you through the back door and the two of you stare the fence in front of you. 

“I thought we could get out this way.” He sighs. 

“We could always climb over it.” You say, squeezing his hand and sending him cheeky smile. “But you will have to help me.” 

“Always.”

“Sweet Pea? Are you even paying attention?” Kyle asks, hitting the serpents arm gently. Sweet Pea blinks, staring at the group of boys stood around the ping pong table. 

“Are you okay?” Another asks. “You kinda zoned out for a few minutes.” 

“I-er. Yeah.” He shakes his head. “I’m gonna go get some air.” He says dazed. He places the cup gently on the table before walking away, he feels dizzy and he has no idea whats just happened.

But then he see’s you and everything falls into place. 

Laughing with your friends, your head tilted, your nose scrunched up, your eyes screwed shut, and the whole world stops. 

An entire future between the two of you waiting to be lived. A whole life waiting to happen.

He just has to talk to you. 

So he takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way across the crowded room to where you’re stood. 

It feels like the whole world has stilled as he looks at you, waiting patiently for you to finish your conversation with a dark haired girl, it looks purple in the lighting but he’s can’t be sure, and then he realizes that the hair colour of a stranger isn’t exactly the most important thing right now. 

She’s the first to notice him, she glances between him and you before a small smile twitches at her lips, and within seconds she’s gone, taking the rest of the group with. You frown and watch as they leave, confused as to where they’re going. 

Sweet Pea coughs awkwardly making you jump and turn around. The room goes quiet, the noise from the music and shouting falls away as he looks at you, a confused expression pulling softly at your features, as your gaze makes its way up to his face. The confusion is quickly replaced with a smile. Its bright and warm and it makes Sweet Pea smile in return. 

“Hi.” You lean into him, trying to be heard over the music and Sweet Pea momentarily forgets how to breathe. 

“Hi.” He replies, also leaning in. He’s trying so hard to play it cool, and at first it works, that is until he leans in too far and smacks his head off yours. “Shit sorry.” He says quickly, clutching his head while you do the same to your own. 

He’s fucked it. He knows he has. He’s definitely fucked it. 

“Its fine.” You laugh. “Don’t worry about it. What’s your name?” 

“Sweet Pea.” 

“Y/n.” You reply. “Do you want to get a drink?” 

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Best of 2020

Better late, than never. I enjoy seeing other people’s top-10 lists and I said I’d do one for 2020, so here we go. I haven’t had the chance to watch EVERYTHING I wanted to, but you’ve got to pull the trigger at some point. When the Academy Awards took place on Sunday, I felt like I hadn’t seen ANYTHING nominated but I could remember dozens of times where I felt like I wasted my precious minutes with cinematic detritus. I assumed putting this list together would be easy. It wasn’t. I’ve got a lot of runner ups but for now, here are my Top 10 “Best” (by which I kind of mean my favorite) movies of 2020:

10. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Never Rarely Sometimes Always gave me a lot to think about. On the surface, it's about a teenager who has to travel outside of her hometown to get an abortion, but it could've been any kind of procedure she's uncomfortable (or unable) asking her parents for. It's about the lengths she has to go to when her main source of support is cut off. You feel uneasy throughout, wondering what lengths the girls will have to resort through and whether something horrible is just around the corner. For this reason, I think many parents would find the film enriching.

9. Mank

I haven’t posted my review of Mank yet - just haven't had the time so consider my star rating for it "spoiled". If you don't know, it's about Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) and the time he wrote Citizen Kane for Orson Welles. I can’t call Citizen Kane one of my favorite films, but I do often think of it. The story, the characters, specific shots, the overall look, etc. Every time I revisit it in my memory, my appreciation for it grows and in a way, Mank helps complete my relationship with the film. For that reason, I foresee myself revisiting Mank in the future - probably as part of a double-bill. I’d love to see it enough times to memorize some of Gary Oldman’s best lines.

8. One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami addresses the present while being set in the past but something about it clicked with me more than Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. It's essentially a series of long conversations, the kinds that force you to really examine tough questions and see these legendary figures as normal people. Unlike Mank, it isn't so much the individual lines that stand out, it's more the vibes you get from the exchanges. Out of all the movies on this list, it's probably got the best ensemble cast.

7. Sound of Metal

I'm sure you've seen that clip from Un Chien Andalou where an eye gets sliced with a razor? It gives me the willies just thinking about it because if I were blind I wouldn't be able to watch movies or draw. In Sound of Metal, we're dealing with a career cut short because of deafness but the dots are easy to connect.  I immediately connected with this movie, which made its ending feel like a punch in the gut.

6. Tenet

I keep telling myself that I won’t love a movie Christopher Nolan directs just because his name is attached to it. Hopefully, this doesn't make me a fanboy, despite my falling for pretty much everything he's released. I love how ambitious Tenet is. The plot is so complicated but then again it isn't because once you're able to grok the mechanics of its reverse-entropy technology, you'll probably figure out most of the plot's mysteries. For me, that was the fun part. It felt good to see my understanding of the story and theories confirmed. I'll be watching it again once groups can gather so my friends and I can discuss everything in detail.

5. Trial of the Chicago Seven

I know The Trial of the Chicago Seven fudges history in ways certain people would say is irredeemable but I never go into a film “based on true events” assuming liberties won’t be taken. At the end of the day, I care about being entertained. My enjoyment was also amplified by the fact that I didn't know what the verdicts would be - my American history is spotty, at best. It's got laughs, outrage, drama, and inspirational moments. Aside from romance, you've got pretty much all the bases covered.

4. Palm Springs

Out of all the pleasant surprises of 2020, Palm Springs was the biggest. I thought the Groundhog Day thing was played out and the 0-star-worthy Love Wedding Repeat did nothing to convince me otherwise. Then, this movie comes along and does everything you want in one of those movies, and then some. Not only did Palm Springs give me the romantic comedy I'd been craving for (feels like we haven't gotten a good one since "Crazy Rich Asians" it also examines what love and relationships mean through smartly written metaphors.

3. Possessor

No, I didn’t put this movie on the list just because it’s Canadian; Possessor is on this list because it’s the most unsettling movie of 2020. I mean that in a good way. I've already talked about how unsettling the premise is but it's also the execution. Those bizarre “dream” scenes with the different identities merging in unnatural ways is unforgettable. That mask of Tasya's face, half-melted is already creepy enough, when worn by Christopher Abbott as he re-enacts her memories is just so weird it makes you wonder if you’re actually seeing what you’re seeing, or if you’re going mad. Then, there's that shot with the fingers at the end! Makes me wince just thinking about it.

2. Soul

During the Oscars, I get a little mad at Pixar. They effortlessly churn out these masterpieces that mean no other studio has a chance of winning an Academy Award for the Best Animated Film category. It makes me wonder if the voters even bother to watch the competition but I don't think anyone could argue against Soul. It's among their best films. It’s gorgeous, profound, and modern without showcasing any issues that might flush your day down the toilet.

Runner-Ups:

Enola Holmes

I never believed Enola Holmes would end up on my "Best of the Year" list but this movie is a lot of fun. If you haven't seen it yet, you should. Just wanted to remind you.

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) I was disappointed when audiences didn’t seem interested in Birds of Prey. Seeing Margot Robbie go all-out and given a script that actually makes good use of her character was lots of fun. I also found it refreshing to see a superhero movie (not really, but kind of) that didn’t involve a plot to destroy the world, upheaval all of civilization, or shoot a giant beam into the sky. I think this is one people will discover down the line and go “why didn’t I go see this in theaters when it was playing?”

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm I’m not 100% in love with Borat 2 but boy am I looking forward to showing it to people who have no idea what’s coming. That scene with Rudy Guliani might not have the same impact down the line as it did when I first saw this sequel, but that’s ok. It’ll still have you picking your jaw off the floor.

Nomadland It’s a great movie and I might’ve put it on my list of the best… but I just don’t see myself watching this one again anytime soon. Great movie though. It deserves every accolade you see directed towards it. Chloé Zhao is shaping up to be a major talent. While before I might’ve said “Eternals who?” Now, I’m excited.

The Vast of Night Until I saw Possessor, this was my favorite horror film of 2020. I love the way this movie does so much without showing anything. It’s all about letting your imagination do the work.

Hamilton I’m still unsure how I feel about the casting in Hamilton. Everyone does a terrific job. I understand why actors of color were chosen to portray the historical figures we meet during this story. It still doesn't sit 100% comfortable with me. Then again, who can argue with those results? I’ve seen the movie twice and the songs are still playing in my head.

1. Promising Young Woman

I only had so much before this post went up. Enough for one more movie. It was a tossup between The Father, Judas and the Black Messiah, and Promising Young Woman. As you can imagine, I’m pretty satisfied with the choice I made. Writer/director Emerald Fennell takes the rape-revenge genre and reshapes it into something that feels completely new. Like many of the other films on this list, it also feels relevant to what’s going on today. There are many reasons why I could’ve given it this slot. The writing, the performances, the way it puts your stomach in knots as you wonder what’s going to happen next, the pitch-perfect ending… but I’m going to pick a more personal reason. I try to look at films as snapshots of when they were made. There’s a part of me that winces when I look at Gone with the Wind but I’m also able to take a step back and say “but other than that…” and then just enjoy the movie. In Promising Young Woman, the past is confronted in a way that made me pause and think about two movies on my shelf: Wedding Crashers and American Pie. The Vince Vaughn/Owen Wilson comedy, in particular, has a lot of questionable bits of comedy, bits made even more eyebrow-raising by the fact that it isn't an "old" movie whose entire cast is now dead. Let’s just say that when a movie makes me go “This movie is replacing X”, makes me think this hard about things, and does everything else you want in a thriller… it’ll stick in your head for a long time. That's why I'm calling it the best/my favorite movie of the year.

[ranmanjuu]

hi! can you do a gen z mc who got injured at the protests and have them elaborate on what the protests were about to the oda forces? i got tear gassed at a protest so your writing is actually helping me feel better!

tw : injuries from police br*tality, heavy r*cism

first of all i hope you’re okay!! i’m so sorry for taking so long i hope you’re still here reading this ehhh,,. i personally don’t know much of ‘getting injured in protests’ other than rubber bullets and tear gassing—and for anyone out there protesting (also considering recent things that have happened in my country,,,), please be safe out there!

ᅠᅠ

—nobunaga:

the first encounter you had, he didn’t really notice it. he had a lot of things on his plate, mostly about his assassination attempt, you know, the usual. 

it’s only when he invites you to his tenshu to know more about his most interesting chatelaine. after all, the moment his life was out of danger, the immediate groan out of you raised a brow.

in your defense, going back from a protest then just sent back 500 years in the past did put you in a pissy mood. the injustice was enough bullshit, you didn’t want to deal with this right after.

and,,, your response was probably too snarky for a man in power like him. but that’s what compelled him to bring you to the castle. maybe it was spite, or just dangerous curiosity. no one’s spoken to him in such,,, rude manners before.

being all past the whole, chasing-you-down-just-for-you-to-come-to-my-sickass-castle, the dragged-500-years-into-the-warring-states-period, constant-wars-everywhere, and everything in between, you’ve managed to,, calm down decently, at least. you’re just really confused as to why he called you in. 

through your slippery tounge, you accidentally let it slip that you’re from the future; great job! mission one from sasuke already failed. but—you’ve dug your grave, now you have to lie in it.

upon listening to the rest of your explanation, naturally, nobunaga starts asking questions.

after a series of them, mostly about general stuff like technology, etc., he hits you with a curveball. “what is that?” he asks, observing the small patch of reddened skin.

you’ve been shot by a rubber bullet prior to the time traveling. you wager that they were aiming for the neck—a highly fatal area to hit, even with a rubber bullet, mind you—but you were lucky enough to only be hit near the collar bone. still—to say it’s inexcusable is an understatement.

“huh—?” you follow his eyes, then trail your fingers on the edge as you show more of your injury, “. . .got injured a while back. asshole cops think they can just. . .fuckin’. . .”

your sentence turns too faint for him to hear clearly, he only knows that you feel anger from your tone. all he does is gaze passively as the steam comes out of your, slowly.

“what happened exactly?”

and with that one question, he’s in for quite the story. you start off in the beginning; what triggered it all. the injustice brought by those who are said to protect the people, the same ones that shed blood because they knew they could get away with it. then, the protests done by the ones who wanted justice, equality, something that should just be the norm at this point.

and then, the horrible attacks the cops’ve done to hose who protested,,, the mere thought gets your blood boiling, really. no one poised any kind of harm, it was a peaceful protest—and yet they still hurted, perhaps even killed. and they get away with it.

“. . .and i sure as hell ain’t gonna die to some bullshit system. i’ll keep on going at it until people can stop dying so. . .needlessly like that.”

he pauses after hearing you. his eyes have a vague sense of scrutinize, but certainly not at you. "and you still continue to go, even if it results in injuries for you?”

you look back at him, determination burning like a passion, “as long as less people will die of discrimination; as long as our cause is heard in the end—i’ll sacrifice anything for it. for equality.”

the silence rings for minutes.

but the hand on your shoulder quickly strays your mind back to him. to your surprise, a daring smile, almost a smirk, pulled his lips, “you are braver than many men that i’ve met. fiery and passionate also. i do believe you’ll be quite the addition here.”

and while you raise an eyebrow to that, your heart settles as he ends it with one final thing, “you’ve earned my utmost respect.”

ᅠᅠ

—hideyoshi:

he would have been highly alerted in your presence—had it not been the fact that your eye was bruised and injured. it was fresh, the patch of skin having not turn purple or black yet, but it was enough to signal that it could be a fatal wound.

medics were sent your way by his command, and given the opportunity, he checked in on you frequently. the culprit of the attempted assassination was yet to be found—so he just assumed that you were a poor civilian caught in the crossfire.

you were rather crude to him, but he brushed it all off. you must’ve been some sort of stressed out after just saving his lord, so he gave you space and went to do other things.

it’s when they reconvene under nobunaga’s order did he find out about the decision for your fate.

“my lord, are you sure we should bring them back to azuchi? perhaps they have a place in a town around here.”

“—not really.” hideyoshi’s eyes filled with surprise and concern as a small response came out of you, with eyes looking away from everyone in the tent with lips bitten anxiously and brows stitched together.

so it ended on you going to azuchi along with them. because really, even if you didn’t want to, what were you to do? you had no place in the sengoku, and you’ve forgotten all about your scouts lessons back in middle school to survive in the forest.

and while you insist on working rather than just be royalty basically, hideyoshi is the one who persuades you to at least rest first. with a sigh, you agree.

from then on, you find him visiting you quite often between his breaks. most of the time, asking how you’ve been, making light conversations over tea, and sometimes fussing over the smallest things. it’s a gradual change you’ll get used to—from the failed assassination to the weird, home-y feeling he brings.

it didn’t take long for his curiosity to push him. one day, with the usual cup of tea, the silence passes for quite the moment until he spoke up, “if i may ask, where exactly,,, did you get that?”

he doesn’t quite point to it, but you know what he’s talking about. half your vision is covered now, from ieyasu’s work on trying to make it better. you stare in the cup, swishing the tea around, “. . .my town had, uhhh, ‘problems’.”

he listened intently as you reworded the current real life events. just change the cops to guard, the bullets to blunt sticks(?), etc. the core of it you kept the same, the discrimination, the unruly deaths and wounds of the innocent.

all the while, hideyoshi looks at you with slightly parted lips and eyes that spell a bit of disbelief. such compassion don’t exist in a lot of people—much less a majority of civillians from a town. he thought he’d’ve heard about it, but you did say it was quite the small one, far away.

as you finish your long explanation, your face was scrunched up in a scowl, remembering the scene at the time. the cops came, a highly dangerous situation; but you weren’t leaving just like that. not until you got hit by a bullet did you go back home—and look where you are now.

“—.” hideyoshi calls out your name, snapping you to reality. you dart your attention to him, his face filled with concern, worry—but also slight anger and a distant sense of fondness.

“. . .when nobunaga unites the country, we’ll be sure to aid you. we’ll stop them from hurting anyone else. so until then, please stay with us.”

the sentiment brought warmth to your heart, but you knew the truth. he wouldn’t be able to, the wormhole was a big separation in that. even so, you shook your head, “i don’t,,, uhh, think i can stay for that long.”

his brows stitch together in confusion, “and why is that?”

“. . .i want to go back as soon as i can. and—i only have one chance to do such a thing, and never again.” upon your answer, his eyes widened a bit. no further questions were asked about that, as your own expression said you didn’t want to talk about it.

“but—you could be in danger if you go back.”

“i don’t care.” the tea is cold as you set it down, “. . .i don’t wanna,,, just escape and turn a blind eye to it, i think. it may be safer for me here, but—i still want to help back there. whether or not i’m injured is,,, a means to an end, for me.”

that’s when every suspicion he could’ve had about you dissolved. the determination and righteousness that burned so brightly in your voice was irreplaceable. along with that, was a very deep respect for you. he serves nobunaga because he believed in equality among everyone, and it seems so do you. even if you’re willing to sacrifice yourself—to see a better world where everyone is happy.

a beat passes. two. with a sigh, hideyoshi’s hardened gaze relents back into the strange warmness, hid hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. “well, i don’t think i agree with you diving into potential danger, but just so you know. if you ever need help, you can always reach to us, alright?”

you breath out a chuckle, “. . .of course.”

ᅠᅠ

—mitsuhide:

your whole entire body was sore even before the wormhole sent you back. not to mention, just after that, you had to carry a full-armored man out of a burning building with someone trying to kill said man.

so to say you were disoriented was quite an understatement.

you didn’t even feel it until days have passed. and at this point, you’ve gone under mitsuhide’s tutoring. being sat down for a long time made it painfully obvious that your body was still healing—but you’ve sang this song a million times before. in which the soreness lingered for a while, and then it’d disappear. you can bear with it.

that is, until he started training you in battle.

the tanegashima practice was fine, if a bit triggering by the gunshots. but you saw it the same as archery. however, sparring on the other hand,,,

yeah. the first break you took, you already felt every single part of you reeling. mitsuhide wasn’t ruthless with you, but you figure he wasn’t being soft either.

in truth, prior to arriving in the sengoku period, your body had taken a hit in a protest. you didn’t get caught in the tear-gassing crossfire, or got shot by a rubber bullet. rather, a police car had arrived at the scene and begun to drive forward into the crowd. it didn’t become a car crash site, no deaths occurred to your knowledge (thankfully).

but you were one of the ones in the front row seats, you fell to the ground and took some damage in a number of places. they were more of inconveniences than anything.

still—forcing your body to fight a trained swordsman was not a good idea.

and the fox has an eye for these things, sensing when his enemies are weak. at least it proves to be a disadvantage if you really are dangerous. his eyes linger on you as you rub your sore spots with the occasional groan. 

“the little mouse seems to be wounded.” he says. it’s clear he’s trying to extract some kind of information about the person who just popped out one day, “pray tell, what might be the cause of such?”

“i got, uhhh,” you can’t say car, those don’t exist yet— “knocked down by a horse.” admittedly, a horse is probably more dangerous than a car—but you deal with what you have.

“is that so.” with the smile and narrowed eyes of his, you knew that he didn’t buy it. but to your defense, your state clearly proves it in some way—so he deduced that you weren’t telling the complete truth.

and he welcomes it. it’d be his absolute pleasure to unravel the mystery.

eventually, he does. in promise to keep your secret away from others, you keep his. 

“so, little mouse,” the night has yet to pass, but you wish it did. your stuff was spilled in front of you, all evidence of you coming from the future, “was that cover-up story about the horse a lie?”

it’s a rhetorical question; he knew the answer already. still, you roll your eyes, “of course, we rarely use those in the future. a police car hit a crowd, and i was caught in it.”

promptly realizing he doesn’t know anything, a lengthy explanation ensued.

“oh my. and you said this, ‘car’ drove into a crowd? that’s highly dangerous, is it not?”

“it is!” your calm words slowly dissolve, your hands now waving in gestures, “and guess what, it’s the cops that do it! uhh—guards in old terms, i guess. y’know the people who’re said to supposedly protect us? yeah, hit us with a car.”

mitsuhide isn’t the most curious about the future. but he is a bit confused about the context.

and so you continue, explaining everything. from the start, to where you were, along with what your thoughts are on the whole situation

through all that, he stays silent, not commenting until you were thoroughly finished. you can’t read his expression—so you stare at him, waiting for even a word.

suddenly, he smiles, “well, looks like our little mouse is quite the something, aren’t you?” before you could respond with anything, he pats you on the head with a strange sense of softness, “pureness and ideals like you are rare in this world.”

in truth, he agrees. he’s someone who’s faced discrimination head on from being in the lower class—and he fights for a world that his lord would like to see. even if he’ll remain in the dark, for his stained, dark hands would only corrupt the purity. at least, so he thinks.

you look back with pursed lips and a slight frown, “then i’ll help make it more common. if it results in people being treated as people, i’ll do it.”

you don’t hear it, but he draws in a sharp breath. his eyes are muddled—with what, you don’t know—but you drop the thought as he lifts the hand off of your head with a chuckle, “i will say, i didn’t quite expect this.” 

they say eyes are the window of the soul. while he had his closed most of the time—you managed to peek in a small bit of warmth and fondness in them.

ᅠᅠ

—masamune:

you came to the sengoku period with a sprained ankle. which, in a time where war was rampant, probably wasn’t a good thing to have. especially when you’re being dragged into battle just for the fun of it.

although you admit you made yourself seem tougher than you were (with you being used to injuries like this before, so you’ve grown used to gritting your teeth), you still curse masamune to hell and back. no, you do not care if you’re on a horse or just in camp, your foot hurt like shit either way.

naturally, you wouldn’t take that for long.

thus the next time he planned to take you along (you could already see the glint in his eye), you snapped at him. well—much less ‘snap’ and more of ‘telling him off rather harshly ft. a sprinkle of swearing’.

“listen, assfart, my ankle’s been killing me, and if i’m going by that analogy, you’re practically desecrating it’s corpse and grave. so for the love of god, stop dragging me into battles!”

an expression of surprise went on his face for a moment, before it morphed to his usual grin, “is that so? seems like out kitten likes to run around and ended up hurting themselves.”

“not my fault they shot me in the fuckin’ ankle. . .” you mutter without a second thought under your breath, which he, unfortunately, heard.

“they shot you, lass?”

seeing his ever so slightly widened eye, you pursed your lips, “yeah. nothing too serious.”

even so, you see the way his eyes narrow with a glint—more so of excitement than anything else, “still though lassie, with you being under nobunaga, i doubt they’ll get away with hurtin’ ya.”

“what does that mean?”

fingers comb through your hair in a wild pat, accompanied with a fanged grin, “they won’t be alive for hurtin’ the lord’s precious lucky charm.”

your lips pursed as a frown pulls upon your brows, “i don’t want them to get away solely for me being nobunaga’s ‘lucky charm’.”

“and why is that, kitten?”

his eyes slightly lit up at your hardened and serious aura as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “the same people who hurt me are the same ones who’ve hurt many others, on the basis that they believe they’re above them; over a stupid thing like race. and i won’t be just letting it slide, even if i can’t fight or anything.”

the flame in your eyes are ones that masamune has grown to recognize; the anger and bitterness as you look back on a memory, only to fill up your heart with passion.

“i’ll die if it means that they’ll be punished and everyone is treated the same.”

silence rings past, the wind slowly becomes a solid aura in the air. stunned, he leaves a small chuckle and pats your head,

“the lord made a wonderful decision to bring ya here, lass.”

—ieyasu:

going by his usual self, he didn’t care much when you arrived, other than you were someone nobunaga picked up from his failed assassination. however, him being an expert in things health related, some things didn’t go by with him.

first of all, your eyes were a slight fade of red. at first he figured it was a leftover from honno-ji’s smokes, but as the days tick by, its persistence is now rather worrying. they should’ve faded away by now, so he thought.

and it became more and more painfully obvious, at least to him. the way you rubbed your eyes sometimes, them tearing up at random intervals—and even you squinting at rare occasions that, unless you had an eye problem like mitsunari, shouldn’t be there.

a seed of worry was planted, although he never expressed it. after all, you were being dragged into battle, where dust and more smoke can easily go into your already bugged eyes.

therefore one day, wordlessly, he took you to his workplace. at first, you were confused; ieyasu hasn’t exactly talked to you a lot.

he picks up a small bottle, along with a cup-like lid, “use this, and wash your eyes with it. and by that i mean just tilt it up and blink when it goes into your eyes.”

you just blinked a few times, stunned more than anything. “,,,, why?”

“you think i don’t notice?” he scoffs, “you’ve been rubbing your eyes like crazy, and it’s past the point where your eyes should even be red since the honno-ji incident. either your eyes have been having problems way before, or you’re just dumber and clumsier than i thought.”

“hey! it’s not my fault, for any of the incidents!”

“so there are multiple instances?”

the judgemental look sent your way was something that your stubborn mind won’t back out from, even if it mean having to somewhat explain your situation.

“w, well, there have been several uhm.... arson crimes in my town, i can’t help but be in the vicinity.”

if arson crimes translated to tear gassings, yes, there were many.

“arson crimes? your town is,,, jeez.”

“it’s not the citizens’ fault, look to the fuckin’ guards of our village for that.” the tone had immediately shifted from a kind of flustered banter, to immediate bitter undertones.

immediately, the silence rang on. ieyasu sat there, looking into you as much as he could, with his bare bones knowledge of you. the pieces were there, and it wasn’t hard to put them together. for a moment, he wondered if you were more than the unfortunate one to be pulled into this mess. but if your town was as much a mess as that. . . perhaps it was for the better.

“. . .then you’re planning to stay here, right?” he had his own opinions and thoughts of someone taking advantage of a high-powered lord taking them in, but eh, he thinks, people will do what they have to do to survive—

“not really. assuming nobunaga would even let me go in the first place.”

ieyasu stood there, stunned, “. . .you’re planning to go back to your own town? even from all the danger there?”

“yeah.” you look at him with a slight imbalanced expression, “i don’t have anywhere else to go, other than there, so. . .”

“but why not stay here? it’s safer, you do know that right?”

“of course,” you sigh, “but it’s still my home, all things considered. yeah, there’s a whole lot of corrupt things going on but, they’re still humans, the people i live with. i don’t wanna run away from it, i’d just. . .i’d like to try and help them also.:

ieyasu stays silent as you lean back to the wall, looking out the door with a fond and melancholic gaze, “the,,, guards in my town are doing this just cause of their stupid beliefs and whatever. superiority complex and whatnot. and people are dying because of it, only for things that they can’t control and. . . it’s just so bullshit.”

you turn back to him, with a strong light blaring in your eyes; filled with hope and determination, “wouldn’t you want to go back and help them? even if i get injured, as long as people will be treated the same and won’t face death for something miniscule, i consider it worth it.”

you’ve never seen him surprised at you; at least not in this sense. usually it’d be surprise at some mistake you did, making an offhand crude comment to it but here. . .here it’s partnered with the smallest bit of sparkle. like a hidden respect for you behind his uncaring persona.

you only look as he slowly stands up, his shadow befalling on you. with the same, yet subtle, amount of shine in his eyes as in yours, he sighs softly and takes your hand,

“at least if you’re gonna go into that kind of battlefield, let me teach your ditzy self how to take care of injuries first.”

—mitsunari:

your sudden arrival already aroused questions, as you’d appeared before nobunaga sporting a bloodied cut on your cheek. at the time, they took the assumption that the assassin did it to you.

and although it was fussed for a bit, it was quickly covered up with some cloth fitting for the period. and then, everything went as normal.

taking up job as mitsunari’s personal caretaker wasn’t one you’d reject, because really, how bad could it be? but the man himself kept insisting that you don’t, added that not only were you a special charm of nobunaga’s, you were also injured from the night of honno-ji. he couldn’t do that to you; not after such a stressful night.

and yet you were stubborn as well. with the final decision being up to nobunaga, which you accepted wholeheartedly, of course, you now had the role to take care of mitsunari.

although his. . .clumsy nature was one that you should be worried for, you find it that he often checks up on you, apologizing each time he could’ve potentially hurt you. and each time, you waved it off and assured him that yes, you were fine.

but you can see it in his eyes, the tint of guilt and worry that lingers on before he succumbs to his reading trance. truth is, the injury is just a mild inconvinience of pain, so there really wasn’t much to fuss over.

in his eyes, your degree has gotten much higher than before. whether your wound would’ve affected your job didn’t matter to him; it was the fact that you were hurt in the first place. you shouldn’t have to take care of him when you needed to take care of yourself! or so is what he thinks to himself.

and so he tries to make it up to you. you need reading lessons? he’ll try to squeeze it in his schedule! or maybe it’s time for a break, he’ll tour you around in the bustling city of azuchi. it feels like whenever you need something, he’s always there next to you, and you can’t help but feel charmed by it.

mitsunari isn’t one to notice details about a person if it isn’t in a situation like in battle. but he’s gotten very sharp at seeing the slight reactions and how you’re doing; and here’s what he’s picked up on:

other than the wound on your cheek, your stomach area seems to be bruised or something close to that. you might’ve not told anyone about it, cause he hasn’t heard a peep of that anywhere, not even when he kept asking politely (or bugging, in the man’s eyes) for ieyasu’s information.

so fuck it, he just decides to ask you one day.

“why do you have an injury on your stomach area?”

it was a lesson hour, you didn’t expect him to throw,,,that curveball. maybe more of, what does this character mean? or how do you write this word? but. . .

“uhm—an incident that happened before the whole honno-ji thing.”

“and you never told anyone, even lord ieyasu?”

“n, no, kinda.”

he’s serious than before, and yet there’s something in his eyes that’s very inviting, inviting you to tell your feelings and story, inviting you to a hug of warmth and safety.

and you succumb.

“. . . things have been happening in my town before i came here.” then what was once a lesson sessioin, turned into you explaining what you and the world was going through before coming to the sengoku, with many phrasings replaced of course.

“is that so. . .” he mutters, “i haven’t heard a case like this, although i don’t doubt there aren’t any. . .i should do some reasearches.. .”

“i-it’s fine, really. . .!”

you managed to convince him that it’s fiiine, he shouldn’t read up on it and just focus on his works (since it would render your story false pretty quickly,,).

“but you still haven’t explained how you got the injury.”

“oh yeah. i got kicked down by one of the guards and then i got this as a result.” you pointed at the covered up wound, now probably just a scar, on your cheek. mitsunari goes silent, then a slow and silent hum resonates in him.

you’ve never quite seen the look in his eyes as you did. they were sharper, even if you weren’t situated in a battlefield, and you could see the gears turn in his brain. for what, you’re not quite sure.

“mitsu,,,?”

and with just your voice, his clouded eyes clear up, and he sends his angelic smile your way, “it’s fine now, lady—” his voice rings gently like bells, “you’re now safer. .even if you want to go back there. but i’ll be here by your side to protect you always, so please remember.”

“. . .heh, alright. of course i will.”

[twistedtummies2]

Mia Corazón (Commission)

Another commission I got via my FA page. This is from the same person who commissioned “Tick Tock” and “A Grim Dinner.” It features his OC based on Tick Tock the Crocodile, Tock Crockwork...BUT, more importantly, it also acts as an introduction to his newest OC, Caelyum De Macabre - a character based on Davy Jones (with hints of Tia Dalma) from “Pirates of the Caribbean.”  And it’s NOT A KINK STORY. HERESY, I KNOW. I had a LOT of fun with this one; my only major regret is that I couldn’t make it longer than it already is. XD Also, just for the sake of making sure people know, I did not make up the lyrics to the song featured here. They’re actually fan-made lyrics for Davy Jones’ theme from the movies, originally created by a YouTube artist called Fiajela. I highly recommend looking up the song - it’s been covered by her and Man on the Internet, and they even made a duet version with the two stitched together. Anyway...hopefully you all enjoy. :)

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Valentine’s Day had come to Night Raven College. As you and Grim walked through the halls of the dark castle, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the decorations: pink paper hearts and streamers of white and crimson were everywhere, making it feel almost as if Heartslabyul had somehow managed to take over the entire palatial academy. Grim frowned up at you, trotting at your side, trident tail swishing as he went. “Nya? What’s so funny, Minion?” he demanded to know. “Nothing, nothing,” you responded with a shake of your head. “It’s just…everything looks so different.” Grim sniffed snootily, crinkling his nose at a poster of two young lovers embracing. “I don’t like it,” he remarked. “It’s all…mushy. It just doesn’t feel right for a School of Villains to be so…nya, what’s a good word…?” “Sentimental? Sappy? Saccharine?” “Gross,” was the word Grim chose, sticking out his tongue and shuddering like a small boy afraid of getting the dreaded cooties. You snorted with laughter. “Well, bring it up to the Headmaster,” you smirked, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you went. “I’d rather not,” Grim grumped. “Besides, we all know Crowley would just ramble on about it, or say he’ll get things done and never do…how come he’s Headmaster, anyway? He doesn’t do anything!” “Your guess is as good as mine,” you shrugged. “All I know is the only home I have is thanks to him, as is the only job. I’d like to keep both, thank you.” Grim shrugged back with an accepting sort of rumble as the two of you ascended the spiral staircase that led up to the Headmaster’s Office. Crowley had sent a call that morning; classes were dismissed for the day, so the university was a little quieter than usual: many of the students were off visiting family or loved ones, and those that were hanging around the campus still were largely engaged in…ahem…PRIVATE affairs. You, of course, could not leave; at least for now, Night Raven was your home, and as you were currently not in a relationship, Valentine’s Day wasn’t much different than any other day. Not that you minded much; it was still nice, in your mind, to see others happy and relaxed, and a holiday was a holiday, at any rate…though it seemed even St. Valentine’s holiday would not be saving you from helping clean up whatever mess Crowley needed dealt with this time. As you passed an image of two small, fluffy kittens holding a heart, a random thought came to your head: “Grim?” “Nya?” “Have you ever wanted to be in love?” “Not really,” the cat-like monster said. “Love is all…icky.” You frowned. “Icky?” you repeated. “All the kissing and hugging and…bleh!” Grim shuddered again, then went on: “Besides, it seems awfully difficult; makes you humans and even beast-men all crazy. I’ve got too much to deal with as it is, thank you very much! Nope. The World’s Greatest Mage won’t ever let love make him all soppy.” Grim stuck out his fluffy chest proudly at this, sticking his nose in the air. You smirked, and paused, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. He froze up…then purred and nuzzled into your touch. “Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…o-okay…maybe I love some things,” he admitted.

“Good kitty,” you teased, and snickered as Grim growled at you and half-heartedly swiped at your hand with a paw. You retracted it and the two of you kept moving. “Come on. The sooner we deal with Crowley, the faster we can get to our own stuff.” Grim nodded, as the pair of you drew nearer to Crowley’s office. You knocked on the door and waited for the sing-song call of “Come in!” before entering. Inside the office, things looked the same as ever, floating portraits of the Great Seven and all…aside from a vase of roses, plus a couple of heart-shaped ornaments on the desk, as well as the fact the purple-and-green curtains had been exchanged for solid red velvet drapes. Dire Crowley himself was seated behind his desk, sorting through paperwork, dressed in his usual attire. His feathery cloak rustled as he lifted his top-hatted head, and smiled at both yourself and Grim as you shut the door to the office behind you, his yellow eyes sparkling behind his Plague-Doctor-esque Venetian mask. “Ahhh! Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm! And the Little Monster!” he greeted warmly, rising and waving his hands, bidding you closer as he stepped around his desk. “Come, come, you’re right on time!” “On time for what, dare we ask?” Grim meowed. “Aren’t you celebrating Valentine’s Day, too, Headmaster?” you asked, politely. “Later,” Crowley smirked, winking and tapping the side of his mask’s long nose. “I’ll be entertaining a cute little fairy sorceress from the Land of Oz later tonight.” He let out a dreamy sigh, placing a hand to his heart. “Ahhh, Miss Upland…one day, you will be mine…” You and Grim gave each other a look, shrugged, then turned back to Crowley. “What’s the problem, then?” you asked, knowing better than to think this was a social call. By now, Crowley had firmly established yourself and Grim as the chief problem solvers of the Academy, so it stood to reason he had a mission for your both. “Oh! Yes, well,” Crowley muttered, and cleared his throat, adjusting and straightening his stance before going on in a business-like way: “As I’m sure you’ll both know, tonight there’s a special performance, directed by our own Vil Schoenheit, for the holiday.” “Nya? Isn’t it that play about the Sea Witch?” Grim checked, tilting his head. “Correct,” nodded the Headmaster. “And the Little Mermaid she assisted. We have a special guest coming to see the show tonight…” He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a small photograph, handing it over to you. You knelt down to get closer to Grim’s level, and showed him the photo as you both looked it over: the picture was a portrait of a dark-skinned mermaid, with hair black as ebony and scales of red and gold. Her eyes were brown and soft and warm as milk chocolate, and a silver locket in the shape of a heart was clasped about her throat. “Oooh…she’s pretty!” Grim smiled. “Very,” you agreed with a smile of your own. “She,” the Headmaster spoke up, “Is Young Lady Mia Corazón. Her family is one of the richest in the Coral Sea.” “Which is why you invited her,” you guessed, trying not to sound as bored as you were. To your surprise, Crowley answered, “I didn’t invite her! She wanted to see the show on her own…but there is one difficulty: her family insists that she be accompanied by at least two bodyguards at all times. Much like the Al-Asims, they’ve had…ISSUES in the past, and if their daughter is going to be on land for a spell, her parents want to make sure she’s adequately protected.” “That’s fair enough,” you supposed. “Let me guess,” sighed Grim, crossing his arms, “You want us to be the bodyguards then?” “Well, I suppose I COULD hire professionals,” Crowley murmured, scratching his chin in thought. “But they can cost a lot…I’d probably end up having to cut your pay just to-” “Forget it,” you grumbled, while Grim growled and slapped a paw to his forehead. “We’ll do it. But something is worrying me, if you don’t mind my bringing it up.” “What’s that?” “Are you sure WE’RE the right ones for this job?” you pressed, then before Crowley could speak up, you went on quickly: “We’ll do it, like I said, but…are you certain we should?” “How do you mean?” the Headmaster questioned, tilting his head. “Well, we’re not from the Coral Sea,” you explained. “Wouldn’t someone from that area be a better choice? Perhaps Azul could loan out the Leech Twins for a day!” Both Grim and Crowley looked at you as if you had grown a second skull. “…Right,” you sighed, quickly catching on. “Azul. ‘Loan’ us the Leech Twins. And us NOT expect things to go HORRIBLY wrong, one way or another. Yeah, that was a dumb suggestion, sorry.” Crowley chuckled and shook his head. “I have every confidence in you,” he said, with a wide smile. “You’ve solved so many problems in the past! And it’s only for tonight! What could possibly go wrong?” “Well, great, now something will DEFINITELY become a problem,” Grim grumbled. “Look, it’s not that I’m ungrateful,” you pressed on, “Or even that I’ve got a whole lot else to do, just…I’m worried because I don’t have magic. And Grim is…well…Grim.” “Hey!” Grim yapped indignantly. “I could roast any bad guy’s butt if they tried to get to Miss Coronation!” “Corazón,” corrected the Headmaster. “Whatever,” shrugged Grim. Crowley rolled his eyes, then turned his head upward. “You do raise a good point though, Prefect,” he conceded. “I didn’t think of that…at the very least, you two will need some help.” You were just about to agree…when suddenly, you heard Grim shiver. Both you and Crowley looked down as the cat-like demon quivered and hugged himself, the fire in his ears flickering. “Are you okay?” you asked, worriedly. “Y-Yeah,” Grim answered with a slight chattering of his teeth. “But…does anybody else feel like it suddenly got colder in here?” Now that Grim mentioned it, you DID suddenly feel a light chill crawl up and down your back…and it wasn’t too long afterward that the source of the cold made its presence known. With an authoritative BANG, the Headmaster’s office door burst open, causing both yourselves and Crowley to yelp and jump in alarm. You turned around fast, and gulped nervously as you perceived the imposing figure of Chief Jehan – the school’s head of security, garbed as ever in his military style cap and long, black trenchcoat. “Headmaster,” the darkly dressed security chief intoned, bowing his head respectfully to Dire Crowley, “Forgive this intrusion.” “Oh, it’s alright, Claude,” Crowley sighed out, then frowned. “Whatever is the matter?” “I apprehended this rule-breaking scallywag in the school cafeteria,” Jehan stated, indicating a second figure. “Ow! OW! H-Hey, let go of me, you old…! I’ll bite your legs off, you hear me?!” You and Grim were surprised to see the short, thick-hipped, green haired figure struggling in the icy grip of Claude Jehan, trying to pull away as his ear was all but being yanked from the side of his cranium. “Tock?” the two of you chorused. Tock Crockwork just snarled as Jehan glared at him. He tried to return the glower, but it came off more akin to a wounded animal trying to look tough than…well…looking tough. Crowley’s frown deepened, and he stepped past you and Grim – uttering a quiet, “One moment please” – before approaching the chief and the unruly Octavinelle student. “What is the meaning of this?” the Headmaster boomed. The Security Chief pushed Tock forward, releasing his ear. Tock stumbled a bit and caught himself, massaing his sore lobe. “This young ruffian,” Jehan explained, “Started a brawl with Mr. Bucchi over the last Deluxe Menchi Katsu Sandwich. As the latter student was merely defending himself, I felt his punishment should be more lenient; both have been banned from the cafeteria for the rest of the week…but as the one who started the whole affair…” He trailed off as Tock growled rather pathetically, looking down at the floor sullenly. Crowley scowled and hummed thoughtfully, clearly trying to determine a fitting punishment. Your eyes, as well as Grim’s, widened, and you looked to each other. “Grim,” you whispered, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “I think so, Minion, but a show about a math teacher who’s also a criminal mastermind? Who’d want to watch that?” You facepalmed. “What are you two whispering about?” Jehan asked, suspiciously, as Tock and Crowley both looked to you as well. “I think I know a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak,” you suggested. “You mean, a way to deal with Mr. Crockwork while also dealing with your dilemna?” Crowley guessed. “Exactly.” “Dilemna? What dilemna?” Tock asked. You grinned.

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“Thanks for sticking up for me, snack meat,” Tock groused, petulantly pouting as he walked by your side. “You’re the one who decided to pick a fight with the hyena,” you shrugged. “Honestly, I think I did you a favor.” “Nya…my Minion has a point,” Grim nodded. “Do you really think things would have been better if Crowley had decided to punish you himself?” “Or worse,” you put in, grimly, “Leave you to Chief Jehan?” All three of you shuddered, and Grim even crossed himself at the mention of the security chief. “Fine, I guess that’s fair,” Tock grumbled. “But I don’t like having to protect a fish filet from harm. I eat fish!” “Well, you won’t be eating Mia Corazón,” you sniffed. “Alright…guess I’ll just have to eat YOU instead,” smirked Tock, and licked his sharp teeth. Grim mewed and hid behind your leg. You blushed. “…We’ll worry about that later,” you grumbled, making Crockwork snicker with a wicked smile. “For now, let’s focus on getting you some actual lunch.” “You ARE an actual lunch,” snorted Tock. “I am not on the menu!” you snapped, flushed with embarrassment as Tock gave you a knowing grin. “Well…not till your work is done,” he teased, winking deviously, then smirking down at Grim. “Maybe I’ll have the little hairball for an appetizer, too…” Grim hissed at being referred to as a “hairball,” but said nothing. “Do you always have to be so antagonistic?” you sighed. “It’s what keeps getting you into trouble, you know.” Tock just shrugged carelessly, hips swaying as he walked side by side with you. “So, where are we heading?” he asked. “Can’t go to the cafeteria, and the Mostro Lounge is way too expensive…” “The Mystery Shop,” you answered. “I’m sure Sam’s got something in stock for us all to snack on before we head to the beach to pick up our special guest.” “Nya! Between my fiery awesomeness, my Minion’s brains, and lizard-breath’s strength, we’ll be the best bodyguards ever!” declared Grim. “Call me ‘lizard breath’ again,” Tock warned, “And we’ll be back down to two people, fuzz-face.” “Fuzz-face?!” Grim snapped. “How’d you like to BURN off a few of those calories you’re so proud of, hah?!” “Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” you droned. The pair glared at you, then each other…then growled in unison as they stopped. “Thank you,” you sighed with relief. “Now, let’s be on our best behavior: I don’t want Sam’s Friends to give us a hard time…” As you spoke, your little trio reached the entrance to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop, and the three of you walked inside. Aside from a simple banner reading “Happy Valentine’s Day!” over the door, the shop was completely as it usually was…at least on the outside. To be fair, once you all entered the building, the store within seemed its usual self, too; no heart-shaped décor here, only the usual assortment of voodoo accessories. The strange part came when you not only realized Sam was nowhere to be seen…but you all also noticed who was tending to the store. Or rather, what. “Crabs?” all three of you gasped in surprise. Sure enough, crawling all over the Mystery Shop was an assortment of strange white sand crabs. Their shells seemed to have been made from smooth, ivory-colored stone…and as if the presence of the pale decapods wasn’t bizarre enough, their activities certainly would have gotten some unusual reactions. A few of the crabs were straightening out and sorting through items on the shelves, making sure everything was in top-notch condition. One crab was holding a miniature broom, while the other held a dustpan, the pair of them sweeping the floor. Still another crab was changing a lightbulb, while two more – clicking their claws encouragingly – were supervising. A bunch of crabs carrying a spray bottle and a wash cloth scuttled past you all, near your feet. Yourself and Croc stepped back, but Grim – with typical feline curiosity – leaned down and actually sniffed at one of the crustaceans… “ME-YOWCH!” he yelped, and jumped back, mewling and covering his muzzle after one of the crabs pinched his nose with their pincer. The crab seemed to strut away importantly afterward. “Heh…guess the crab cake bit back, huh?” teased Tock. Grim just growled and massaged his stinging snout. “This is new,” you muttered. “Where’d all these little guys come from?” “Cruel and cold, like winds on the sea. Will you ever return to me? Hear my voice sing with the tide: My Love Will Never Die…” The melodious voice soon sang into your ears, and you and your companions looked towards the source. In a corner of the shop, a lone figure was quietly mopping, and singing the lonely, haunting sea shanty you had heard. The figure was a young and slender man, dressed in a tan-colored jacket with ruffle-ended sleeves, and a brown hip-skirt. His legs were covered by dark beige trousers, while plain brown boots were on his feet. A fishnet scarf was loosely slung about his shoulders, almost like a shawl, and an orange muscle shirt festooned his abdomen. His hair was a curious pink hue, and done up in dreadlocks. “Ahem!” you coughed, catching the young man’s attention. He froze and looked up to you, blinking his brown eyes. For a moment, you noticed there was a look of pain and something…hollow in his face, as if something inside of him was missing and he longed to get it back. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness and sorrow seemed to wash over you…but it disappeared in an instant when the youth smiled. “Oh! Ahoy there! Didn’t hear you come in,” he greeted, bowing his head respectfully as he put the mop in its bucket and then walked towards you and your group. “Can I help you?” “Well, you can start by telling us who you are, and what happened to Sam,” Grim frowned. The young man chuckled, flipping his fishnet scarf over one shoulder. “Sam is taking the day off for the holiday,” he explained, then slowly added, “I don’t…make merry on Valentine’s Day, so I volunteered to keep the shop open and do some cleaning.” “Well, that answers one question,” Tock snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and lookin the taller youth up and down. “Mind answering the other?” “Oh! Right, right,” the young fellow chuckled, and cleared his throat before giving a mock-salute and answering: “Name’s Caelyum. Caelyum De Macabre. I’m Sam’s new assistant.” “Pleased to meet you,” you smiled, and shook Caelyum’s hand, and tilted your head. “Say…can I call you Cael for short?” The young man’s smile flickered, and he paused before quietly beseeching, “I’d…rather you didn’t, thank you.” “No problem, I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly. “Not at all, not at all,” the young man chuckled, and straightened his stance, recovering quickly. “So! What can I do for you, me hearties? Supplies, clothes?” “Food,” growled Tock. “I’m STARVING.” Caelyum chuckled and jabbed a thumb to one part of the shop. “You’ll find everything you need in that direction.” Tock nodded, and sashayed in the direction De Macabre had indicated. Caelyum smiled back at you and Grim in the meantime. “You’re the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, right?” he guessed. “That’s right,” you nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, then,” Caelyum smiled. “Sam’s told me all about you: he says you’re his favorite customer.” “He says that about everyone,” Grim snorted. Caelyum chuckled and knelt down. He extended a hand carefully. Grim sniffed it carefully…then smiled and allowed the shopkeeper’s assistant to pet him softly. “You have a beautiful singing voice,” you couldn’t help but comment. Caelyum looked up in surprise…then blushed a bit. “Oh, uh…you heard a little of that, did you?” he chuckled with embarrassment. “Nya! It sounded really sad, but…it was also really nice,” Grim mewed. “Thanks,” Caelyum said as he stood back up to his full height. “What song was that?” you asked, curiously. “I’ve never heard it before. Is it from your homeland?” Caelyum’s smile fell, and he looked askance. “Not exactly,” he murmured, then informed you aloud, in a matter-of-fact way: “It’s a song from the Coral Sea. I come from the Jubilee Port, near the Swamplands: same place as Sam. A…friend taught the song to me.” Catching the hitch in his voice, you smiled sympathetically. “It sounds like you two were close.” “We were,” Caelyum said softly. “Very.” “Nya…what happened?” Grim asked. Caelyum paused…then shrugged. “They left,” was all he said. Sensing the sensitive subject, you decided to drop the matter; Grim caught on and did the same. “How long have you been working for Sam? I haven’t seen you around before.” “Not long,” shrugged Caelyum, seemingly grateful the subject had changed. “He and I have some similar interests, and when I joined Night Raven, I applied for work.” “Oh, so you’re a first year?” “Yep.” “What house? Octavinelle?” you guessed, wondering why Tock wouldn’t have recognized the youth if so. “Scarabia, actually and weirdly enough,” laughed Caelyum, as if the placement struck him as some sort of very funny joke…he paused then leaned in and whispered: “Um…is it just me, or is the dorm head of that house a little…you know…how would you say it…?” “Too pure and innocent for this cruel, unholy world?” “…Yeah, that.” “Yes. Yes, he very much is.” The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Tock snarling in the food aisles. You all turned to see him trying to pry a bag of chips out of the pincers of one of the crabs, who looked very insulted to be interrupted in his work. “Hey! Can somebody make this crab cake let go?!” he snapped. “Oh, sorry!” Caelyum called out, and then snapped his fingers. Suddenly, every single crab inside the building froze…and then their claws and extremities retracted into their shells, leaving only a series of what looked like smooth, white stones scattered around the shop. With a second snap of his fingers, the stone crabs disappeared; there was no puff of smoke or flash of light. One second they were there…the next, they were not. Grim whistled, impressed. “Nice trick,” he murmured. “Is that your Unique Magic?” you asked. “Yep,” Caelyum nodded. “They’re called Locker Crabs, and you’d be surprised the kinds of things I can do with them…” “Cool!” Grim commented. “Hey, Tock!” you called out, hearing the rustling of snack food bags. “Leave some stuff for the rest of us, and hurry up! We need to get to the beach quickly!” “I’m hurrying, snack meat, I’m hurrying!” Tock called back dismissively. “The beach?” Caelyum spoke up, looking interested. “Why are you three heading there? What’s so important?” “We’re on a mission!” Grim cheered, puffing out his chest once more. “Oh, really?” smirked Caelyum, looking amused, and scoffed as he moved behind the front desk. “What for? Some sort of Valentine’s Day meeting, or something?” You frowned, sensing a bitterness to two particular words. “You mentioned you don’t make merry on Valentine’s Day,” you said slowly, approaching the desk and leaning on it. “What do you…y’know…have against it?” “Hm?” Caelyum murmured, then shrugged as he leaned back against the shelves behind the front desk. “Oh, well, it’s…not the day itself. More what it represents.” “Nya? What do you mean?” Grim asked, tilting his head. A shadow seemed to fall over Caelyum’s face, and he looked askance. Something icy and stormy flickered across his features. “Love,” he said, as if the word were some repellent toxin. You and Grim shared a look, then looked back to Caelyum. “Love is a lie,” Caelyum went on, seemingly talking more to himself than to either of you. “It’s like a parasite that burrows into your chest…and even once the sickness it spreads is cured, something in there remains, keeping you from ever knowing real peace. It pulls you along a blind alley, and just when you feel safe, it stabs you in every place it hurts most, and then leaves you to either heal on your own or die. It weakens your defenses, and confuses your resolve. And yet every year, every time this day comes around…I just see people acting like it’s the best thing in the universe.” He shuddered violently, looking positively ill. Grim meowed almost sadly. “I think love is mushy and gross, but…I don’t think it’s THAT bad,” he mewed. His words seemed to snap Caelyum out of it. The witch doctor’s assistant glanced up at you both…and, with a light chuckle, his helpful, friendly smile returned, the shadows departing in an instant. “Well…being mushy and gross doesn’t help,” he joked. Grim sniggered. Your own expression didn’t change, even as the employee leaned forward again. “Seriously, though, what IS your mission?” “We’re gonna be bodyguards!” Grim announced joyously. “Bodyguards?” “There’s a special guest coming to the show on campus tonight,” you explained. “The Headmaster assigned the three of us to look after her, since she’s a VIP.” “A really RICH VIP,” Grim added. “That’s our Headmaster,” Caelyum scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “So, who is this special guest?” “Mia Corazón.” Caelyum’s smile vanished, as if it had been smacked off his face. “Mia…Corazón?” he repeated. “Nya? Do you know her?” Grim asked. Caelyum didn’t answer, looking away; that hollow, haunted stare came to his face as he seemed lost in another world. “Mia Corazón,” he repeated again, then let out a soft, slightly hysterical laugh. “Of all the cursed days of the year…she chooses now…” Before you could ask what was wrong, Tock came lumbering over, arms loaded with various snacks and drinks. “There! That should be enough for all of us…or at least, for me,” he grinned, flashing you a wink that would have made you blush in an instant if your mind weren’t on other matters. He looked towards the assistant…then frowned, eyes narrowing. “Hey…who are you upset with?” The words once again snapped the brooding Caelyum out of it. He looked at Tock with surprise…then shook his head fast and brushed some of his pink hair away from his face. “No one. Nothing,” he insisted, and forced his smile back onto his face. “Now! Let’s, uh…let’s ring this up, aye?” In casual, business-like fashion, Caelyum charged Tock; you were grateful for the recent raise Crowley had given you as you paid for it all. The three of you then left the shop. Just before you exited, you turned to bid Caelyum one last farewell. He smiled and waved back… …But the moment you left, the darkness flooded his face once more, and he looked away, eyes smoldering like hot coals as he reached into his shirt… …Revealing the silver locket that was around his neck. The same sort in the photo Crowley had given you. The young man’s face became cold as an iceberg once more as he opened the locket…and sang to the tune the music box inside played. “Wild and strong, you can’t be contained. Never bound, nor ever chained. Wounds you caused will never mend, and you will never end…”

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“Why did you ask him that question?” Tock Crockwork belched and grunted as he finished up his lunch, licking and sucking on his fingers before looking to you, cheeks bulging as he still chewed his food. “Whuh queshun?” he mumbled out through a full mouth. “About why he was upset?” Grim spoke up, tilting his head. “I mean, he certainly looked upset, so…” “That wasn’t the question he asked though,” you clarified to Grim, then looked to Tock. “You specifically asked, ‘WHO are you upset WITH?’” Tock swallowed and let out a hiccupping burp before speaking. “Mph…yeah, and?” he grunted, patting his stomach and licking his lips free of any crumbs from the sandwich he had devoured. “Well…why did you assume he was upset with someone?” “I didn’t assume, I knew,” snorted Tock, and slung his arms behind his head as the three of you neared the beach of Sage Island. “That was the same look I saw in the mirror every day when I thought of Leona, or those boys back home.” Knowing what had happened in his conflict with Leona, you gulped at Tock Crockwork’s words. “Well, I hope he wasn’t mad at us,” murmured Grim. You smiled thinly; you had a very good idea you knew who Caelyum was mad at, given the context of things…and you were very much hoping you were wrong. You had the sinking feeling those hopes would be dashed as the three of you drew closer to the beach…and a familiar-sounding song, accompanied by the tinkling notes of a music box, drifted through the greenery and into your ears… “Over waves and deep in the blue; I will give up my heart for you. Ten long years I’ll wait to go by: My Love Will Never Die.” The source of the singing soon became clear as you pushed past the last few bushes of the wilderness and stepped onto the open, sunny beach. There was a single white bench nearby; standing beside the bench was a man in what looked like an almost Spartan uniform…and seated upon it was a young woman, with dark skin and long, black hair, dressed in a red and gold dress. In one of her hands, she lifted the pendant of a locket; the source of the music box tune. The lady snapped the locket shut, and she and her chaperone turned fast when they heard yourself and your companions approaching. She smiled, chocolate-toned eyes lighting up with interest. “Oh, hello!” she chuckled, seemingly a bit embarrassed at being caught in her reverie, and stood up as her suspicious compatriot narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you…my bodyguards?” “Yes, ma’am!” chirruped Grim, proudly. “Mia Corazón, I presume?” you smiled, respectfully. “That is right,” the young woman greeted, bowing her head in matching respect and lowering her locket. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Wait a minute…why do you need us to guard you?” Tock spoke up, and pointed to the Spartan-looking fellow. “Wouldn’t he be enough?” “Oh, that’s Firme. He actually has a date with his wife,” Mia answered, giving the man a teasing smile.

The guard blushed. “Miss Corazón, not in front of civlians!” he pleaded. Mia chuckled. “Sorry, Firme,” she apologized. “Now go on; I know she’s waiting for you.” Firme nodded gratefully, then glared at the three of you more seriously. “Protect her at any cost; we’re depending on you,” he ordered. “Aww, don’t worry, we’ll keep the little fishstick safe!” Tock smirked, cracking his knuckles and neck. “You can start by NOT calling her ‘fishstick,’” you droned, noting the nervous look on Mia’s face and the anger on Firme’s. You gave both an apologetic smile. “Sorry. He’s half-crocodile. Trust me, though, he’s a softy when you get to know him.” “HEY! I AM NOT!” snapped Tock, angrily. Grim just giggled. The interaction and your promise seemed to relax both denizens of the Coral Sea. Firme bowed to Mia, and then walked towards the beach…and kept walking, straight into the sea, until his head disappeared under the waves. “Well!” Mia smiled, and cheerily hurried towards your group. “Can we go see the show now? I don’t wanna be late!” “Of course…um…Your Excellency?” “Oh, don’t bother with titles like that,” the girl giggled. “Just call me Mia! Everybody does!” “Okay, Mia,” you chuckled, quite liking her warmth and energy. “Follow us, and stay close.” “I will,” Mia promised as the three of you set off along the beach. “Thank you, by the way; I hope this doesn’t cause you too much trouble.” “Quite the opposite,” grumbled Grim, remembering what Crowley had said earlier. “Why do you wanna see some silly show anyway?” sneered Tock. “Oh, it’s not silly!” exclaimed Mia. “The story of the Sea Witch and the Little Mermaid is important among my people…and besides, I think theater is exciting! I always enjoy seeing it!” “Hopefully our show won’t disappoint,” you smiled. Tock just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I still think it’s for wimps,” he mumbled…then abruptly froze. The rest of you stopped, too, looking to the croc boy as he sniffed the air and growled. “What is it?” Mia asked. “Something wrong?” “Very,” Tock nodded. “We are being watched.” “How do you know?” you asked. “Instinct? Intuition?” Tock growled and narrowed his eyes, looking at you determinedly. “No, meat. We. Are. Being. Watched.” “By who?” whispered Mia, nervously. “I have an idea,” you murmured with some dread. Before Mia could comment on your remark, all three of you heard a sharp yelp, and turned to see that Grim had inexplicably toppled over. The feline-like creature sat up and massaged his bumped noggin. “Owwww,” he moaned. “What happened?” Mia asked, sounding concerned. “I dunno!” Grim whined out. “Just…s-something seemed to come up from under me and…” “GAHR!” You jumped as, right on cue, Tock toppled over as well. Then it was your turn, as you felt something shift under the sand where you stood, and you dropped to the ground. The wind was knocked out of you for a moment, but you managed to sit up just in time to see three large, round humps in the sand…which seemed to move of their own accord. The three humps began to trace a path, circling Mia, who froze up and squeaked like a mouse, clearly confused and frightened. It only got worse when, suddenly, more and more humps seemed to appear out nowhere: at least a dozen or more, which shot through the sand, burrowing through it with a barely-audible scraping sound… …Then, dust flew up as the shapes burst from the ground. As the dust cleared, you and your friends watched wide-eyed as a consortium of familiar white crabs toppled Mia Corazón, and – working together to lift her, carried her off across the beachside. “HEY! PUT ME DOWN! STOP!” Mia cried out, but the crabs wouldn’t listen, and soon vanished from sight. “Nya…we’re off to a good start with this job,” sighed Grim dismally. “After them!” you barked, and leapt to your feet as you dashed after Mia and her arthropoid captors, Grim hot on your heels. Tock grumbled sourly as he dusted himself off then jogged after you. “Taking orders from my lunch…I’m gonna eat that stupid, mask-wearing, feather-loving…!”

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Mia cried out as the crabs carried her along the sand, her “volunteer” bodyguards soon out of sight. She tried to fight free, but the crabs pinched and held her fast, keeping her in place. She wasn’t sure how far or for how long they carried her…but suddenly they stopped, and she let out an “eep!” as they moved into a pillar, and pushed her up, allowing her to stand. The mermaid-in-disguise turned around, panting for breath as she watched the crabs swarm about each other…then, they seemed to coalesce and mesh together; their pale shells took on more colors; hints of pink, brown, and orange… …Until, finally, standing before her was a familiar young man with dreadlocks and a fishnet scarf. In his hand, he held a heart-shaped silver locket. “Come my love, be one with the sea. Rule with me for eternity. Drown all dreams so mercilessly, and leave their souls to me.” He snapped the locket shut at the end of the verse, and paused before uttering, in a mechanical, robotic tone, two words: “Ahoy, Mia.” Mia blinked slowly, absolutely stunned. “…C-Cael?” Caelyum blinked back and said nothing, his face emotionless and blank. Mia slowly smiled, her eyes lighting up…then squealed with joy and rushed forward, throwing her arms around the young man…who stood stiff and rigid, not even looking at her, as she hugged him close. “CAEL! I…oh, Gods, what do I even say?! It’s…it’s been so long…I’ve missed you so much! Where have you been?! Cael…Cael, I-I’m so happy…!” “Let. Go. Of. Me. You. BITCH.” Mia gasped as Caelyum harshly pushed her back, nearly knocking her over. Her heart sank as she stared at the young man, who glared at her, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. She looked deeply hurt…and not because of the push. “Cael?” she whispered. “Cael…wh-what’s wrong? Why…why are you upset with me?” Cael’s eyes flashed with anger. “What’s wrong?! Why am I upset?!” he repeated. “What in Hades do you THINK is wrong?!” Mia flinched as the boy from the swamplands’ voice rose to a perfect scream. Cautiously, steadily, she approached. “Cael…please…I-I don’t understand. I…I’ve wanted to see you again for such a long time, and now-” “How DARE you?!” shouted Caelyum, silencing the aristocratic mermaid. “How dare you say something like that to me?! After what you did to me, do you expect to believe you’ve ever cared?!” “I…what…I do care!” Mia pleaded, and tears began to twinkle in her eyes. “Cael, what are you talking about?” Cael laughed; a dangerously unhinged, malicious sound. “Oh-ho-ho, you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about! You should!” he spat…then, the bitterness was replaced by pain as he went on. “Two years, Mia. Two years I waited, and you never returned. You…y-you broke your promise to me…and did you ever think of me in those two years? Did you think of me even once in all the time since, until now?” Cael’s eyes began to brim with tears of his own; he was shaking. Mia felt her heart sinking further in her chest. “Of course I did,” she said, softly. “You’re…you’re my best friend.” One could almost hear Caelyum’s last heartstring break. “Best friend,” he repeated, in a dead, soulless voice…then hung his head. “You still don’t get it, do you, Mia? You broke my heart, Corazón…” Head still hung low, dreadlocks casting shadow over his eyes, Caelyum De Macabre lifted one arm, and snapped his fingers…and Mia nervously stepped back as a swarm of crabs appeared to trail across his arm and mesh together…forming a silver cutlass. “…And now, I’m going to break yours. Literally.” Ominously, Caelyum began to approach. Mia felt panic rise in her, and started to back away…then yiped, almost comically, as she tripped on her own dress and tumbled back. “C-Cael…Cael, PLEASE!” she cried out, as the boy loomed over her, his face twisted in anger as he began to lift the sword above his head… “HEY! BACK OFF!” FWOOSH! A jet of blue flame shot between Mia Corazón and Cael De Macabre; the lad from the swamplands jumped back, then growled angrily, turning to face the source. You had finally arrive, with Grim at your side, both of you glaring at the bokor’s assistant. “That’s enough, Caelyum,” you warned. Cael sneered. “It’s not enough,” he hissed, “Until she endures the same amount of PAIN and AGONY I HAVE!” With a roar, he rounded about to try and strike Mia down…then froze in place when he found she had seemingly disappeared. Startled and caught greatly off guard, he was unable to avoid the green scaled fist that grabbed hold of the back of his jacket, and cried out as, with a roar, the owner of the fist hurled about seven feet away, sending him rolling through the send. His sword spun through the air before stabbing into the ground right at the edge of the shore. Caelyum coughed and snarled and spat as he got onto his hands and knees…then glared as he found Tock Crockwork – now in his full “true form” – glaring at him, fangs and claws bared. “Keep away from the fishstick, swamp meat,” he spat. “Thank you,” Mia whispered. Tock just smirked at her – somewhat cockily but not cruelly – then glarde back at Caelyum as yourself and Grim moved to stand beside him, all of you making sure to create a barrier before poor Mia. Cael rose to his feet shakily. “Leave her alone, Caelyum,” you said. “This is not your fight!” he snapped back. “Uh…yeah, it kinda is,” Grim snorted. “We told you, this is our job today!” “You don’t know who you’re protecting,” Cael viciously sneered, his shoulders trembling with fury, his fingers clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white as the bones under his skin. “She cursed me!” “Cursed you?!” Mia exclaimed. “Caelyum, I never did ANYTHING to you!” “Yes, you did!” Cael answered…and gulped back a sob before explaining: “You made me love you.” All eyes widened; you and your friends looked to Mia, then back at Caelyum. “Ohhhh…now the pieces are coming together,” Grim murmured. “I know the look in your eyes, meat, and it’s not love,” Tock said, darkly. “Not love as it should be, anyway.” “Cael…I-I’m so sorry,” Mia quavered. “Of course you’re sorry,” Cael scoffed. “Everyone’s sorry when it’s too late.” So saying, he lifted his hand…and the sword that had stabbed into the ground “dissolved” into a group of crabs. They scurried across the beach, crawled up his side…and reformed into a cutlass in his grasp once more. “Put the weapon away, Caelyum!” you beseeched. “It doesn’t have to be like this!” “Yes it does!” Cael yelled. “Don’t you get it?! I can’t be free! I’ll always remember! I’ll always feel that pain! Love is a curse; a curse that hurts me, every day of my existence…but after today, I’m going to change that.” He closed his eyes. You had a bad feeling you knew what you’d see when he opened them again…and you were correct. One of his eyes was suddenly surrounded by a fiery aura. “Today, I break the curse.” KA-ZAM! The familiar black cloud of Overblot surrounded the shopkeeper’s boy. Blue and orange light flashed in the gaps between the vapor as it swirled around the fellow from the swamplands…until finally, the mist parted. When it did, you all found that Caelyum De Macabre had gone through an alarming transformation. His brown-tinted clothes had vanished, replaced with a blue-gray uniform like a navy seaman. One of his arms was stuck into the sleeve of a long, tattered cerulean coat with gold lining, which hung about his shoulders almost like a cape. A blood red sash was lashed about his middle. While his left eye was surrounded by orange aura, a tattoo had appeared over his right, in the image of a pirate medallion. His dreadlocks had transformed into a head of writhing, wriggling, pinkish-purple tentacles, like those of a squid; each tendril’s tip was smeared with ink. His left arm had become a white crab claw, ink oozing from its joins; his right leg had become a crab’s leg, too, and was also oozing with Blot. A single black boot covered his one human foot…and he still held his cutlass in his one human hand. Cael grinned viciously, pupils pinpricks as he pointed his sword at you. “Yo-Ho, me hearties!” he bellowed. “Shiver ‘em from stem to stern!” At these words, the ground before his feet seemed to ripple…and then, a swarm of Locker Crabs came scrambling from the ground, racing towards your group. “I’ll take care of this!” Grim pronounced, and summoned a wall of flame. As the fire struck the crabs, they vanished in a cloud of silver smoke…but more just kept coming! Caelyum laughed and began to move towards your group, swaggering as the point of his crab-leg stabbed into the ground repeatedly. Seeing the approaching dark mage, Grim paused to hurl a fireball in his direction…only for Cael to split in half, crab legs showing in the “seam” of his being, as the fireball hurtled past without causing any harm. He stitched himself back together and kept moving forward, as if nothing had happened. Tock Crockwork roared and charged at Cael, swinging a punch at him…but De Macabre simply swept up his crab claw and, in a fluid, wrenching motion, whirled Tock about and flung him to the beach floor. He grinned with deranged excitement as he moved closer to yourself and Mia, leaving Tock to choke in the dust. “Hold them off, Grim!” you called out as he continued to scorch the crabs. “I’ll try!” Grim called back. “Run for it, Minion! RUN NOW!” And you did, holding onto Mia’s arm as you dragged her after yourself. With a wild laugh, Caelyum lifted his sword up…and then “melted” into a swarm of crabs, which scurried after the two of you as you raced along the beach. Behind you, Tock snarled, clutching his banged skull as he watched the horde of crabs vanish. He angrily kicked away a few that Grim didn’t manage to stop, and then charged forward. Grim panted; he was already growing weary. “I…I can’t hold them off!” he meowed. “There’s…there’s too many-EEP!” “Stop whining and shut up,” snarled Tock, whisking Grim up in one arm and sprinting on, the pair pursued by the remaining Locker Crabs. “We’ve got more important things to worry about, come on!” Unaware that your friends were on the chase, you hurried along with Mia Corazón. The crabs that made up Cael’s being clicked and scraped behind you with a deeply unsettling sound, urging you to go faster and faster. “Wait!” Mia gasped. “If…I…can…talk…to him…!” “I don’t think he’s in a mood to talk!” you replied. “Right now, all we can do is…!” You trailed off and stopped short as the crabs suddenly caught up with you…and then moved around you, reforming in front of you into a column. Thinking fast you looked around… …And were just in time to grab hold of sturdy tree branch, as a sword reshaped and then stabbed at you. You barely had a moment to parry the strike, the blade cutting a notch into the wooden limb you held. “Stay behind me!” you hissed to Mia, as Cael reformed fully. “So, it’s a duel then?” Cael cackled. “Alright! EN GARDE!” You yelped, instinctively blocking as the sword slashed at you once more. The slash was followed by a lunge; you jumped back quickly and parried that strike, too. CLING-CLANG-CLING-CLANG! The cutlass and the branch clattered against each other, the sound of the steel against wood that was tougher than it looked ringing out. Each time Cael tried to get around you to lunge at Mia, you blocked his path. You laughed softly, amazed you were holding out; guess one didn’t know how good they’d be at something like a swordfight till they tried! You ducked another slash, and responded by swinging your stick around. WHACK! Caelyum reeled as you managed to smack him across the face…then slowly turned back. He looked…annoyed. “Ow,” was all he said, almost sarcastically, before swinging his blade around again. You quickly lifted your branch… SWACK! And gulped nervously as the cutlass sliced it clean in half. “Oh, boy.” “HA HA!” laughed Cael, and lifted his crab leg, kicking you hard in the stomach. You coughed, dazed and winded as you crumpled to the ground. Now, nothing was standing between the enraged Caelyum and his prey: Mia. The mermaid with legs began to back away in fright…then cried out sharply as Cael thrust out his crab claw and grabbed her by the throat with it. A grin of evil triumph spread across his face as he lifted his weapon above his head. “And here we are at last,” he crooned with twisted delight, and squeezed, making Mia gasp for air. “Any last words, my dear?” Mia gulped…and looked pleadingly into the Swamplander’s eyes as she uttered five simple words. “Cael…please…I love you!” Just before the last three words were uttered, Cael had prepared to attack…but then he froze. The grip of his pincer loosened as she said those three golden words, and the demented smile vanished from his face. He hesitated, as if those words had caused something in his brain to just shut down… Which was all the opportunity you needed. CRACK! “GAH!” exclaimed Caelyum, and dropped Mia, who coughed as she hit the ground. His tentacle hairdo wriggled like a horde of angry snakes as he glared at you in rage: the stone you had thrown at his shoulder had hurt! With a furious roar, he swung his sword around his head three times, trying to cut you into pieces. You ducked and dodged each strike as fast as you could…only to fall back as Cael summoned a horde of sand crabs. You squirmed and grimaced as the crabs pinned you to the ground, acting like organic shackles. You winced as each time you moved, they pinched you hard, making you stay still. Caelyum smirked victoriously, and pointed the tip of his cutlass at your heart. “Tell me, Prefect,” he taunted. “Do you fear death?” “Do you?” CHOMP! Caelyum began to turn around towards the voice, his face etched with surprise…and stayed perfectly still, as if he’d become a statue, paralyzed in shock. The red marking of Tock Crockwork’s unique power – One Minute to Die – was evident on his left arm. “NOW!” the crocodile shouted, as Grim hurried over. The feline-like creature wasted no time: he focused his power, a bright blue aura surrounding him…before, with a spiteful hiss, sending a huge jet of flame towards Caelyum. Caelyum was sent flying through the air, clothing scorched, and rolled across the dirt, still in the position he had been stuck in. Only a few seconds later, he convulsed, and groaned, trying to stand up… …Only to find Tock looming over him. “This,” the crocodile hissed, “Is why I’M top of the food chain, snack meat!” WHAM! He spun around, slapping his tail across Cael’s face…and the Overblotting mage fell still and silent, rendered swiftly unconscious. The sword disappeared without warning from his hand, as if it had never been there. The crabs he had summoned all vanished in the blink of an eye: just like at the shop, one moment they were there, and the next they were not. All four of you – yourself, Mia, and your friends – sighed with relief. “Thanks,” you nodded to Tock as he helped you to your feet. “Hey, I’ve gotta protect my territory; that includes you,” Crockwork shrugged. You decided not to comment on that. “Are you okay, Miss Corazón?” meowed Grim, nuzzling up against the mermaid’s side. She smiled weakly and patted his head before standing. “Physically, yes,” she said. The teenaged girl’s eyes then lit up with concern as she hurried over to Cael’s side. “Cael…Cael, are you okay? S-Speak to me!” she pleaded. “He just tried to kill you!” Grim snapped out. “He wasn’t thinking straight,” Mia defended him. “Just…h-he didn’t understand…” She sniffled and bowed her head. “…C-Caelyum…I’m so sorry…” You and Grim shared a sad sort of look. Tock just looked confused, above all else. “What happened between you two?” the croc grimaced, crossing his scaly arms. “I think we’re about to find out,” you said, and pointed as silver mist began to wisp off of Caelyum De Macabre’s form. A moment later, a blinding white light surrounded the young man…and the mist formed a cloud, inside of which – as always seemed to happen – pictures from the past began to appear… “Tag! You’re it!” “I’ll get you! Ha Ha Ha!” In the swamplands of the Jubilee Port, a small boy with pink dreadlocks giggled and hid behind a tree by the riverbank. For several seconds, he sat anxiously…then yelped when, out of the river burst a familiar, dark face with flowing raven hair. “GOTCHA!” sang out the girl with the gold and ruby tail, and reached out a hand to playfully tap his shoulder. “No fair!” huffed the boy. “I always have to stay near the water; you never let me have an advantage!” The girl giggled and smirked teasingly. “Not my fault you’re a lousy swimmer,” she cooed. The boy grumbled and pouted. She smiled gently. “I’m sorry, Cael; I didn’t mean it,” she said, placing a hand on his leg… “AHA!” the boy laughed, and tapped her hand before jumping away. “You’re it again!” “HEY! THAT’S CHEATING!” The two laughed as the girl swam through the river, chasing the bayou boy up and down the banks…before finally leaping out of the river with a victorious cry. “RAAAAH!” “EEK!” Young Caelyum yelped as he was thrown to the ground. The girl with the fish tail grinned, flippers wagging happily as she kept him pinned. “Gotcha again!” she sang out. Young Cael giggled and wiggled under her. “Hey, lemme go!” he demanded with a slight laugh. “Hmmmm…if I do, will you just tag me again?” “…Maybe?” The mermaid glared…and tickled her friend with her tail. Cael squealed with laughter before flashing an evil smile. “Ohhhhh, you wanna play that way, huh?” He tickled her back and the two rolled across the bank…before yelping and splashing into the river. A moment later, both rose from the depths Caelyum coughing and floundering. “Help! Mia, help! I’m drowning!” “I’ve got you, hold on!” Mia said, and helped Cael back to shore. The boy sighed with relief and began to wring out his clothes. “Thank you,” he gasped out. “No problem,” Mia smiled. “I’m sorry you got all wet…” “It’s okay; I’ve got other clothes,” Cael smiled. Mia nodded, then smiled a bit more sadly. “I still should have been more careful: there may be more clothes, but there’s only one Caelyum.” Cael blushed. “Hush, you’re just teasing me now…” “No. I’m not,” Mia said seriously. “You’re my best friend, Cael.” Cael blinked, pausing in his activities. “…But…don’t you have other mermaid friends?” “I may have OTHER friends, but you’re my BEST friend,” smiled Mia. “And there’s only one of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Cael blinked again…then smiled sentimentally. “Heh…well, um…you’re my best friend, too, Mia. And, uh…a-and I feel the same.” “I’m glad,” Mia smiled. A pause. “You should really suck less at swimming though.” “Oh, hush. Say! Maybe you can teach me?” “Sure!” That word seemed to be a cue, for the scene changed to a few years later; the same river on the bayou, the same boy and girl, just a little older. “MARCO!” “POLO!” The Mermaid floated with her upper half above the water, eyes closed, flapping her tail as she blindly searched for her friend. Cael would pop up now and again with a gleaming, gloating grin as he watched her try to find him: he’d learned to swim VERY well in the years since that time playing tag. “MARCO!” Mia called out again. “POLO!” laughed Cael. “Oh, this is impossible, you’re too fast!” “Suck less at swimming,” teased Caelyum. “I’m a MERMAID, all we DO is swim!” “You can walk!” “I need a potion or a spell for that,” huffed Mia, and turned around, trying to feel about for her friend. Cael smirked and dove under again, swimming cautiously around her in the wide river… …But as he popped up again, he was due for a terrible sight. He gasped as he saw Mia blindly reaching closer to the shore…where a venomous serpent glared at her oncoming form almost hungrily… “MARCO!” “MIA, WATCH OUT!” Confused, Mia opened her eyes…then gasped as she saw the snake rearing back to bite her! She pulled away just in time, and at the same moment, Cael glared and snapped his fingers. The snake heard a clicking noise, and turned its head to find a white crab snapping its pincers. The pincers swung towards its throat… SNICKER-SNACK! And that was the end of the snake. Mia swam back to Caelyum’s side as she snapped his fingers again and the crab disappeared. He hugged her close. “Are you okay?” he whispered, worriedly. “Yeah…i-it didn’t get me,” she panted with relief, and squeezed him tightly. “Thank…th-thank you…” Caelyum smiled warmly and returned the hug…then froze up as Mia leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said again, and nuzzled against his bare chest. Cael blinked…then blushed red as a tomato and grumbled. “…Hey, what are friends for…? More time passed, and the swamp disappeared. The scene now became a lonely pier. On it sat Caelyum and Mia, who was now in full human form. “Do you really have to go?” he whispered. Mia nodded sadly, hanging her head. Cael bit his lip, and looked away, tragedy in his eyes. “…When…w-when will you be back?” he asked, timidly. “I don’t know,” Mia admitted sadly, then smiled gently up at her friend. “My mother said I need to start learning more about the family business; spending less time on land and…well…with you.” Cael frowned and clenched his fists. “I see.” Mia’s smile fell…and she gave Caelyum a hug. He relaxed. “She’s set in her ways,” she said softly. “But I will never forget you. And I WILL come back.” “Do you promise?” “Of course. You’re my best friend,” smiled Mia…then reached into a bag she had with her, stationed between the two. “Here…I have proof…” Cael tilted his head as out of the bag she pulled two silver necklaces with heart shaped lockets. She gave him one, and clasped the other around her neck. “What is this?” Cael asked, crinkling his nose in confusion. “A sign that we both share the same heart,” Mia said, and giggled. “That’s the really sappy way of saying it, anyway. Put it on and open it!” Cael did, and at the same time he opened the locket, Mia did too…and soft, beautiful melody chimed from the music box contained. Caelyum’s eyes widened. “That’s the song you taught me,” he recognized, and looke dup to Mia. “The one about the pirate and the goddess of the sea?” Mia nodded. “It’s your favorite…my favorite…OUR favorite,” she said gently, and took Cael’s hands in hers, looking into his eyes with deep-rooted affection. “And as long as we share these lockets, share these songs…we’ll never truly be away from each other.” Caelyum smiled weakly. “I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, wryly. “But…thank you, Mia.” He paused. “You…you know I love you…right?” Mia blushed. “Yes. And I love you too.” Cael gaped. “You do?” “Of course, silly! You’re my best friend!” Cael blinked…then smiled and shook his head wearily. “Yeah…I know,” he said softly. “I…I know.” A pause…and the pair began to sing together to the mingled tune on their music boxes as they watched the sun sink on the horizon beyond the sea. “Warm and welcoming as the sea, someday I will return to thee. Hear my voice, sing with the tide: Our Love Will Never Die.” Time passed once more, but the music box still played. The next scene played in silence, as Cael lay on his bed silently one night. He hummed to the tune on the locket, and glanced sorrowfully towards a calendar on his wall. Every date was crossed out with a red X. He sighed…then snapped the locket shut…before a lightbulb seemed to go off over his head, and he reached towards his book case, grabbing a specific spell book… This short tableaux was followed by another as Caelyum was now found…underwater. His lower half had become a white-scaled fish’s tail as he swam through the water, using a spell that would turn him into a merman for a few short hours. He’d taken a boat out to the coordinates where he knew Mia lived. Now, he swam quickly and quietly through the city, looking for Mia. His eyes darted this way and that, seeking some sign of his long lost friend; two years without any sort of contact – never a call, never anything written – and he was now so close to seeing her again! He smiled wider as he moved into one of the higher rent neighborhoods of the underwater area, carefully brushing past other, natural merfolk going about their business. His heart was beating fast in his chest; when he found her, he’d tell her everything. How he felt, how much it hurt to be without her, how much he never wanted to be separated again! Then he found her, as he turned an alley…and that fast beating heart seemed to skip a beat… …As his face filled with sorrow. Only yards away – never noticing he was there, he saw a strong, burly-looking merman with blonde hair…hugging his Mia and kissing her full on the lips. He clamped his eyes shut…and swam away, out of the city and back towards the surface. His tears were lost with the tides. Thus ended the vision, as the blinding light faded, leaving an unconscious Caelyum De Macabre lying on the ground, back to his usual self. “…Prefect?” “Yeah, Grim?” “Is it, like…a requirement that we stand here for several seconds in total silence after we see those?” “No, I think it just happens.” “Ah. Okay then.” Tock Crockwork said nothing. A few moments later, Cael groaned and began to stir. He blinked his eyes and clutched his pink-haired head as he started to sit up. “Ugh…what…wh-what happened?” he slurred out. “You tried to turn my food into shish-kabob,” droned Tock, thumbing towards you. “Shut up,” you grumbled. Confused, Cael turned towards your voices, and looked about to say something…until he heard sniffling and whimpering. He turned…and found the teary-eyed face of Mia staring back at him. “C-Cael,” she whimpered…then let out a squealing cry that caught him off guard as she threw herself upon him and began to cry. “CAEL, I’M SO SORRY! I’m so, so sorry…please…please, I’m sorry, PLEASE…!” Caelyum, as you might imagine, looked beyond uncomfortable…and with a growl, he managed to push Mia off of him. She whimpered like a kicked puppy as, without a word, he got to his feet and turned away from her, one hand on his chest, clutching his silver locket. “Sorry isn’t enough,” he answered, coldly. Mia gulped…and stood up. “Cael…please don’t walk away,” she begged. “Why not?” Caelyum snarled back over his shoulder, and began to stumble away. “Because I love you!” Cael stopped. He didn’t turn around…but he stopped. Mia paused…and took a deep breath. “I love you,” she said, firmly now, not desperately. “I…I always loved you, but…but I was…I don’t know, I…I was worried…” She hung her head and paused before going on. Cael turned his head slightly to show he was listening. “When I returned to the sea, my mother didn’t want me to ever go back to the land. She forbid it. She told me I had to stay under the water, and…and find a proper husband. She told me to forget about you, and…that merman you saw? He was…my betrothed.” Cael growled. “WAS,” Mia pointed out, and then went on quickly: “Cael, I could NEVER forget you, and I could NEVER stop loving you. Those two years…they were agony for me. That time in the alley…I asked him to kiss me because I wanted to show him we WEREN’T right for each other. He agreed; there just…wasn’t a spark. We liked each other, but…we both knew it would be wrong.” She swallowed, and lifted her head. “So…we both spoke to my mother. And…she realized what she’d been doing was wrong. The very next day, I went back to the swamplands; I looked everywhere for you…you weren’t there.” Silence. “I’m so sorry, Caelyum,” she sniffled. “I’m…I’m so-” Cael stopped her with a raised hand…and slowly turned towards her. All of you were surprised to see tears in his eyes. “…I just tried to kill you.” “Yes.” “I ran off over this whole misunderstanding.” “Yes.” “All this pain, all this time…and you really loved me?” “Yes.” “And…you…still love me? After all that?” Mia smiled. “Yes.” Cael blinked…then let out a wet laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled. “I…I guess swimming isn’t the only thing we both suck at. I mean…we’re n-not very good at this whole ‘relationship’ thing, either, are we?” Mia shared a sniffling laugh…and the pair promptly ran into each other’s arms. “I’m so happy I found you,” Mia sobbed with joy. “I’ve missed you so much…” “Not half as much as I’ve missed you,” Cael choked. The pair squeezed each other…then backed up, holding each other’s hands and staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. “Play the song you sang long ago,” Cael began. “And wherever the storm may blow,” Mia continued. “You will find the key to my heart,” both finished. “We’ll never be apart.” “Aaaaand…kiss,” you murmured to yourself with a smile, as the pair did exactly that. Tock snorted, rolling his eyes as Grim stuck out his tongue and grumbled something about “soppy mush.” The two lovebirds parted after a few seconds…then seemed to remember you were all standing nearby, and blushed before backing away from each other like scalded cats. “Um…s-sorry,” Caelyum mumbled. “About trying to destroy us, or for that sappy display?” droned Tock. “Because I can forgive one of those…” “It’s the destroying us part, isn’t it?” you guessed. “Yyyyep.” Cael hung his head and shuffled his feet guiltily. “…I’ve…had a lot of pain bottled up for years,” he said silently. “And…when I heard she was coming here…I…well…” “It’s alright,” you soothed, moving closer. “I can understand. And for the record, we won’t tell the Headmaster.” “Nya…or Chief Jehan,” Grim added. “Claude Jehan?” Mia spoke up, and tilted her head. “Is he really as scary as they say back home? The Ashengrottos and Leeches have a LOT of stories to tell.” “I’d imagine,” you snickered. “And no. He’s not that scary.” “Right. He’s WORSE,” Tock responded. “Amen,” you and Grim chorused. Mia gulped nervously; Cael chuckled softly, smiling at her with puppy-eyed affection. “I…hope he’s not going to be at the play tonight,” she said slowly. “Trust me, you’ll be fine,” you soothed. “Well, we won’t be if we don’t get there on time!” Grim reminded you. “We’re already behind schedule, thanks to all this!” “The hairball has a point,” nodded Tock, stiffly, then grumbled under his breath: “I still say it’s all for pansies, though…” All of you chuckled…except Mia, who took Cael by the hand. “Can…can he come, too?” she asked, shyly. Cael looked shocked, as did Grim and Tock. You just smiled wider. “If he wants to,” you answered. Cael blinked…then grinned so wide his face nearly seemed to split in two. “Please!” he nodded eagerly. “Then come on!” you called, and gestured for the reunited lovers to follow. “Let’s get moving before my pay gets docked! I have a pet to feed, you know!” “I AM NOT YOUR PET!” snapped Grim, while Tock cackled with amusement, snapping his fingers and resuming his humanoid form. Caelyum De Macabre and Mia Corazón just smiled and squeezed each other’s hands, following at a steady pace. It took longer than it should have to reach the theater, in the end, but you still made it in the nick of time. When asked why it took so long, you had an honest answer: Cael and Mia were so busy staring into one another’s eyes with everlasting love, it made getting there quickly difficult. In your mind, and theirs, it was more than worth it.

 The End

[queenxxxsupreme]

I dont know if you write for x Male readers but would you be willing to write a geralt x male reader where the reader is a healer and has traveled with geralt for a bit and developed feelings for him and has a bad nightmare about geralt getting gravely injured and geralt calms him down? You can make it as fluffy or angsty as you like! (:

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long babe!! it’s fluffy with a little angst cause i can’t help it 

The fire crackled as you poked it with a stick. Jaskier sat across the fire from you, composing his newest song while the two of you waited for Geralt to return from his hunt. Jaskier was upset that Geralt refused to let the bard accompany him on this hunt. There was a group of ghouls feasting on a village when the sun went down. Geralt knew ghouls were unpredictable and often frenzied. He wasn’t entirely sure how many were in the pack but he didn’t want to chance there being too many, so Jaskier had to stay behind with you.

You sighed softly, putting the stick aside and bringing your hands up to rub your face. 

“You worry too much.”

Your hands fell from your face so you could look across the fire at him.

“Perhaps you don’t worry enough. Geralt isn’t immortal. He can be wounded and he can die.” 

You didn’t mean to snap. You were exhausted and in need of sleep. For the last week, sleep was something foreign to you. You couldn’t close your eyes without seeing someone you cared about-mostly the White Wolf-dying. It was so easy to see the witcher dying. His very job put his life on the line.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” You leaned forward with your elbows on your knees. “I’m just tired.”

“I worry about him too.” Jaskier spoke softly, turning his head to look at the thick forest to his left. “Just try to have faith that he’ll return in one peace. I don’t like being worried.”

“Neither do I, but sometimes I can’t help it.” Your eyes found the fire. 

Something rustled in the woods behind Jaskier. You lifted your head to see Geralt and Roach. The witcher was atop the mare, holding his side with one hand and the reins with his other. 

You stood to your feet, moving to help Geralt down. He was in pain and you could see that.

“Let me help you, Geralt.” You offered, pulling the reins from his hand. 

Being the stubborn man he was, he grunted. He got down from Roach but he landed heavily on his left leg. It gave out underneath him. You were quick to catch him, your hand grabbing his armor clad arm.

“Is he okay?” Jaskier was too afraid to approach you two. He didn’t like seeing Geralt hurt. 

“I’m fine.” The witcher muttered under his breath. You sighed softly, eyes flickering up to meet his gaze briefly. 

“Come sit. Take your armor off so I can start to treat your wounds.”

Geralt didn’t fight your words. He did his best to hide his limp but you could see it. 

Jaskier came to your side, taking Roach from you so he could tie her to a tree. You went to your bag to fetch the items you would need.

“Were you bit?” You asked over your shoulder.

“No.”

With your arms full of vials containing ointments and remedies, you walked around the fire to get to the witcher. 

You emptied the items on to the ground carefully. You knelt down in front of him, briefly looking over him as he finished untying his armor and tossed it aside. 

There was a large gash on the inside of his knee. 

You picked up an elixir and handed it to him. 

“This will help with the pain and calm your nerves.”

He hesitated to take the vial from you. 

You sighed softly, resting your hand on your knee.

“You still don’t trust me, do you?” You asked him quietly, looking up at him with softly furrowed brows. 

It had been eight months since you joined the bard and the witcher on their journey across the Continent. Right off the bat, Geralt had trouble trusting you. You would never be left alone with Jaskier if he could help it and Geralt would even refuse your help when he came back from hunts injured. You understood his reasoning. It was difficult to find trustworthy company. But you were a little hurt that he still had yet to put his trust in you.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. Actions speak louder than words.” You placed the vial aside and chose to tend to the wound on his inner thigh. “If I wanted to drug you, I had plenty of opportunities.”

“It’s not that, Y/N.” Geralt winced as you poured a liquid onto the wound that would cleanse it. “When I take that shit, I’m not at my best. If something were to attack us-,”

‘“Nothing is going to attack us, Geralt.” You cut him off, smiling softly. “We are safe here. And even if we weren’t, I can use my own sword and Jaskier…. He can sing the assailant to death.”

The faintest smile tugged at Geralt’s lips. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to notice the display, but you did.

“That is rude!” The bard called from across the fire. You looked over to him, offering him a little smile.

Your eyes flickered back to Geralt. 

“It’d be nice if, for once, you just let me do what I’m supposed to.” You mockingly sighed, looking down to your supplies. “What good is a healer if you don’t use him properly?”

“M’fine.” He grunted. “I heal just fine.”

“Yes, but it’s quite painful leaving the wounds to just heal up on their own.” 

You placed your hand on his knee, your fingers feeling for any abnormalities beneath his trousers. 

“You were limping. What hurts?” You glanced up at him. Your fingers continued their journey from his knee down his shin and to his ankle. The second you touched his ankle, he jerked back and hissed. “I-I’m sorry, Geralt.” You apologized quietly, dropping your gaze to his ankle. “Can you move your ankle?”

Ever determined to mask his pain, he attempted to move his foot around. His lip curled back in a pained snarl. 

“I’ll take that as a no. You, my good witcher, have sprained your ankle.” You pulled a strip of cloth from your pile that would’ve been used for bandaging and instead chose to use it to wrap around his ankle. “With your healing rate, I’d say by morning you’ll be able to walk on it.”

You didn’t get much more time to evaluate the man. He stood to his feet and moved towards Roach. You sighed and looked to Jaskier. He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head in disapproval. 

“We leave at dawn.” The witcher grumbled over his shoulder. 

You nodded your head as you gathered your items. 

“One of these days, I’d just appreciate it if he lets me do my job.” You muttered as you neared the bard. “I’ve never done anything to be untrustworthy.”

“Geralt’s just a stubborn old man.” Jaskier sighed. He knew very well the witcher could hear him. A deep grunt came from Geralt’s chest. “Don’t let him bother you.”

“If he won’t let me do what I am meant to do, then what use am I to you two?” You placed your things down in your bag then moved to sit next to Jaskier. 

“You keep me company.” Jaskier answered, smiling a little hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if that was the answer you wanted. 

You sighed, rubbing your palms together. 

***

It was dark and cold. You opened your eyes, finding yourself laying on your back. You brought your hand up to rub your face. You furrowed your brows together upon feeling something wet and sticky and warm on your face. You pulled your hand away from your face to look at your hand. 

Your stomach jumped to your throat at the sight of crimson blood on your skin. Concern filled eyes looked down to check over yourself. Were you injured?

As your eyes looked down to your boots, you saw Geralt laying just a few feet away from you. He was on his back with his sword resting on the dirt  by his right hand. 

“Geralt!” You called out his name as you scrambled to get to him. The gray tunic he wore had a massive blood stain on the front over his abdomen. Your hands hovered just over the wound as you assessed it. It was deep and cut through vital organs. There was no way he could survive this. 

“Geralt!” You cried his name, tears blurring your vision as you leaned your head down to check for a pulse. With him, you couldn’t feel his pulse on his neck like you could a normal person. His heart beat too slow and shallow. 

You could hear nothing over your own heavy breathing. 

You sat back, lifting your head from his chest. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips. His eyes were closed. 

“You killed him.” Jaskier’s voice caught your attention. You lifted your head to see him standing by Geralt’s feet. 

“Jask-,” You started to stand up but Jaskier stepped away from you, his eyes full of horror as he shook his head. His blue gaze flickered down. 

You followed his line of sight to find that you were holding a dagger in your hand. The blade was covered in blood, droplets dripping from the tip of the weapon. 

“You killed the White Wolf.”

Your hand trembled as you shook your head, releasing the dagger. 

“No! No! I-I didn’t-I didn’t-I’m supposed to save him!” You started to bring your hand up to cover your mouth but then you remembered blood tainted your fingers. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you gazed down at your hand, fingers trembling. 

Geralt suddenly stood in front of you, golden eyes wide and fierce.

“You killed me.” He sputtered out, blood falling from his lips.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump awake. Panic ridden eyes found Geralt kneeling beside you. You sat up quickly, your hand reaching out for his arm. 

“Are-Are you-Are you-,”

“Take a breath, Y/N.” He cut you off. “Your heart is racing. Are you okay?”

You shook your head, unable to find your voice. Your mouth was dry and your throat itched. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you desperately bit them back.

Geralt was quiet, giving you time to calm down. Your hand on his arm tightened, fingers holding his bicep tightly. His brows were drawn together as he watched you. He could smell the fear rolling off of you in waves. Guilt tainted the fear. What did you do?

“It-It was so…. so real.” 

“You had a dream.” 

It wasn’t a question but you nodded your head. 

Your hand released his arm and you went to rub your face but stopped at the last minute. The blood was so real. How could your mind make something like that up? 

Geralt took note of the way you stared at your hands like you were waiting for something to happen to them. 

“What happened?” His deep, raspy voice was soft. 

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“ I-I don’t…. I can’t….” You weren’t able to bring yourself to tell him. How could you tell him that you had a dream where you murdered him? What would he think? He already didn’t trust you. This would just give him more reason to not trust you. 

“You’re shaking.” He placed his hand over yours. 

Your frantic heart began to beat a little differently, maybe even skipping a beat. Your eyes focused on your lap, unable to look into his vibrant eyes. 

“I-I killed you.” You whispered. When you blinked, a couple tears fell from your eyes. “I killed you. There-There was blood everywhere.”

You expected him to pull his hand out of yours. 

But he didn’t. His thumb brushed over where your thumb met your hand. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. Geralt, I would never- I couldn’t bring myself to-I wouldn’t ever think of-,”

“I know you wouldn’t.” He cut you off. His voice was gentle. You very rarely had the opportunity to hear him sound so kind. “When we sleep, our minds often make us see things or do things that we would never do.”

“I’m so sorry.” You sniffled. 

“Don’t apologize.”

Your eyes flickered down to see his wound on his thigh. 

“How do you feel?” You wiped your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Tired, but I will be fine.” He took a soft deep breath. “Thank you.”

In all the time that you’d known him, you never heard him say those words. They were hard to get from the witcher. His actions spoke louder than his words but right now, you couldn’t be more happy. 

“It’s my job.” You murmured. 

“I trust you.” He held your gaze, stealing your breath right from your lungs. “But the thought of…. of not being my best…. it makes me worry. Anything that you have me take messes with me. I can feel it. It throws me off. I’m not my best.”

“Sometimes you have to look after yourself before you look after anyone else.” You told him. 

He nodded his head softly, his gaze falling to where your hands met. 

“Without you…. Without Jaskier, I have nothing.”

Your heart raced in your chest and butterflies erupted in your stomach. A little smile tugged at your lips.

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[deathonyourtongue]

Welcome Home

Summary: Everything would be perfect, if he could just get home. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2K Warnings: Miscarriage, HEAVY angst. Please don’t read if these things trigger you in any way. A/N: This is what happens when personal boy issues, wine, and crying Henry gifs collide. I apologize in advance. The song for this one is Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

“And then literally Desmond says, ‘just give him the bloody axe, he’ll do it himself!’”

You laugh at the culmination of Henry’s story, an anecdote involving a very large tree, a very nervous crew member, and a director who put more stock in his lead actor than any of the men hired to actually remove the tree from the shooting location. 

“How’s our little one?” Henry asks after a moment, his voice tender and sweet, already a doting father even though you’re only six months along. 

“She’s having a little dance party, but I think that’s due to the chocolate chip cookie I ate an hour ago,” you laugh, rubbing the belly that sprang up overnight; It seemed like only last week you still had a flat tummy.

“Well, you tell her daddy can’t wait to come home and give her and mummy so many kisses she’ll lose count.” You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart, cementing Henry as the man you want to grow old with and have many more babies with. 

“Mummy misses daddy a lot. When are you coming home, babe?” You ask softly, knowing production had been plagued with delays ranging from weather to a stomach bug that had laid out half the crew and nearly all of the cast. Henry sighs thoughtfully, the sound making it clear that he too is frustrated by the schedule. 

“If all goes according to plan from here on out, I should be home next month.” It’s not ideal, especially as your pregnancy draws to a close, but it’s better than nothing. 

“I’ll be at Heathrow with bells on, and maybe your mother in tow,” you chuckle, trying to bring levity to a situation you knew was hard on both of you. An affectionate person by nature, you know it’s hard for Henry to be away from those he loves. You miss him more than words can describe and you know that him coming home will be the balm for all the aches, nausea, and trouble sleeping you’ve had since first getting the news. 

“I can’t wait to see you, love. Miss you so much. Sleep now, and I’ll text you in the morning. Love you to the moon and back, darling.” Henry’s words bring tears to your eyes, as they always do when you’re apart for an extended duration, but you manage to keep your voice even as you respond in kind, saying your own ‘I love you’s in the nick of time, hearing Henry’s name being called by production just as you finish. 

It’ll be a long month, but you know that soon enough, the man who keeps your heart will be back and you’ll be nestled in his arms, where you belong. 

            ______________________________________

You wake from a decent sleep when, after rolling over, you feel wetness coat your outer thigh. Thinking you must have been dreaming of the ocean a little too much, you feel around for the bedside light switch and turn it on, rubbing your eyes to ease the switch from the darkness. You’re really not in the mood to deal with having to change the sheets, but what meets your eyes is beyond changing. Bright crimson instantly sets off alarms, and you look down to find that the source is exactly what you were hoping it wouldn’t be. 

There’s little time to react as a bolt of pain ricochets through your entire torso, emanating from your womb and immediately making you want to vomit. You manage to reach for the phone and call for an ambulance, but make it clear they may have to break down the door to get to you. For once, you’re grateful that Henry takes Kal with him whenever he goes to shoot, as the dog would hinder more than help as you pull together all your strength to try and stand. 

The room spins violently and you manage to grab onto the doorframe before your knees turn to jello. Taking several deep breaths, you wait for the wave of nausea to pass before dragging yourself to the staircase. Crumpling at the top of the stairs, you breathe slowly before moving down like a child pretending to be on a slide. You’re out of breath from pain by the time you get to the bottom and it takes the last of your energy to reach up and unlock the front door. Cell phone gripped tightly in hand, you do your best to stay awake, hearing the sirens in the distance. 

Though you have no memory of arriving at the hospital, one directive repeats in your head like a marching order, and you make sure to tell every doctor or nurse that comes into your triage room that under no circumstances do you want anyone to be contacted, especially the father of your baby or his family. The staff at the Royal find the request odd, but because you’re awake and alert, they have no choice but to heed your wishes. With your own family an ocean away, your request leaves you no choice but to go through the ordeal alone. All the better, you think, guilt already forming as the doctor breaks the bad news.

Your world is overturned in a matter of hours. They put you on Oxytocin, and pain the likes of which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy is your sole companion for the next several hours as you’re induced for a birth you’ll never be able to celebrate. When all is said and done, the nurses ask if you want to hold your baby, and against your better judgment, you say yes.

Seeing her perfect, peaceful face breaks you. 

          ______________________________________

A month and a half to the date of the phone call, Henry arrives at Heathrow to find, much to his confusion, only his mother waiting for him. He greets her warmly, but his eyes scan the arrival area, hoping that you’d maybe just run off to use the restroom. When he finds no indication of your presence, his attention turns back to his mother. 

“Where is she, mum?” He asks, unable to piece together why you aren’t there, in his arms, where you promised you would be. Henry’s mother looks anywhere but at her son, unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was expecting had irrevocably changed. 

“She couldn’t make it on account of the...I’ll take you to her, son.” 

Henry tries not to let his imagination run wild as his mother drives north, past the home he shares with you. When the car crosses into Mayfair, Henry begins to panic. “Mum…” His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. His mother’s hand is clammy as it finds his, squeezing in a way that’s meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety. 

He begins to visibly tremble when the engine cuts off in front of Nightingale Hospital. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? What happened? Mum, please.” His whispered appeal breaks his mother’s heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for her son’s sake. 

“I’m sorry, Henry, love. I’m so sorry, my darling.” The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving Henry with no choice but to fly from the car and into the private hospital. 

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for your room number. “The last name is Cavill. Please, hurry. I need to see her.” When it’s explained that patients aren’t generally allowed visitors, Henry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he’s losing his own mind. He asks to speak to the doctor in charge, and before long is ushered into an office and poured a cup of tea, the banal formality only serving to anger him more. 

“Why is my wife in this godforsaken place?” He barks at the doctor the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The doctor takes a seat, his expression sympathetic. 

“Mr. Cavill, I apologize that we weren’t able to reach you, but your wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney.” The doctor takes a deep breath, knowing that what he’s about to say will break the man in front of him. 

“Your wife had a late-term miscarriage about a month and a half ago. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your child, and holding the baby afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health. She’s been residing with us since her delivery and I’m sorry to say, but as of late, she’s been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we’re simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm.” 

Henry keeps his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can’t keep it together, he can’t see you and that’s all that matters to him at this point. 

“May I see my wife? I’ve been overseas for the last six months, shooting a film. I w-was expecting her at the airport.” His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tinny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the doctor is blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for you taking over any allowance for grieving. 

“I’ve been told she’s not having a good day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It’s the nature of her condition,” the doctor warns as he approaches your room. 

It’s all Henry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The woman in the bed, staring passively through him isn’t the woman he loves, the one he would die for. That woman is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless facsimile that breaks him even more. Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he’d come home sooner.

            ______________________________________

By the time he’s back in his mother’s car, Henry’s numb to everything but the pain searing through his chest, “Take me home, mum. Please,” he murmurs, Henry’s head lolling onto the window for the duration of the drive back to your former home. He refuses to allow his mother in the house, pleading with her to go home and wait for his call.  She takes Kal with her, knowing her son well enough to understand that he needs to grieve in his own way. 

Henry’s not ready for the blood, having assumed that someone would have cleaned it up by now, but the Hansel and Gretel trail is hard to miss and with leaden steps, he moves upstairs.

Left in the exact condition it was last used in, the room you two shared leaves no question of what happened and what you went through, alone. His knees give out as he takes in the sheer quantity of blood on the bed, Henry guilt-ridden that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most. 

Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others, Henry screams from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, Henry staggers to the bed and curls up around the remnants of his previous life, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.