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#and the attack on the picture would be the sun giving off blue pulses
goglitch · 3 years
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Chert has become sans undertale 😔
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yourmoonanon · 3 years
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princess, pt. 2
pairing: c!technoblade x gn!reader rating: R a/n: dedicated to all the lovely anons and non-anons who enjoyed part 1, especially those who collaborated their ideas in my inbox. love, moon - 🌝
Things... were going great. That night he asked you to stay, you did. “Just for tonight,” you emphasized. You lay wrapped in his arms in soft silence, braiding random strands of his hair, drifting in and out of sleep. When the sun began to peek over the horizon, dusting your cheeks with a pink glow, you knew it was time. His fingers made their way under the blanket, much to your half-assed protests, needing to hear his name drip from your lips like honey at least once before you left.
“Techno...” you gasped, the warning tone you had intended to use cracking and breaking into a weak-willed bliss. His lips pulled into a cocky smirk against the skin of your neck as he worked you through one--- two bouts of pleasure.
“Just trying to help you out. I know you get off to the thought of me when you’re not here. My name just being spoken in those cabinet meetings planned to kill me gets you soaked, doesn’t it?”
God, he wasn’t playing fair. It took everything you had to reach down, grabbing at his wrist to stop him from starting up the third wave of pleasure, whining that you really, truly had to leave before anyone found your bed empty.
You continued to stay till the sun rose every meeting. The number of times you went rose, too, shifting from twice a week to every other night, eventually to every night. You couldn’t help it. The way his hands burned claim into your skin, both in frequency and the way he quite literally carved his initials into you.
(“Want them to know that you’re mine, my fucking traitor, my princess,” he growled in your ear, continuing to fuck you with whispers of “Mine, mine, mine,” tumbling from his lips. That same night, as you braided his hair, you let him part your legs, his brows drawn in concentration as he used a sharp nail to press the letters “TB” into the soft flesh of your thigh. He kept his eyes on that same spot the whole night. He never spoke about it, but you knew he was damn well pleased the next night you came over and it was still there, picturing you pressing over the two letters with your own nail when it began to fade the afternoon prior.)
You’re sure if he could brand you with a cattle iron, he would - stealing you away from L’Manberg, perhaps the Dream SMP as a whole, taking you far, far away and keeping you pressed against his body for the rest of eternity. He was quite literally a god, after all.
That was the thing, though. Despite how increasingly domestic your interactions became, tensions grew between him and L’Manberg tenfold. While he was with you in his cabin every night, he was off planning and negotiating in the day.
Things were going great - up until this morning. When you woke up, Techno seemed... reserved. He sat at the window seat, holding a distant glare with his eyebrows furrowed. Neither of you spoke much before you left, only you asking if there was anything he needed, a stern “No” from him in response, before following it up with a soft and guilty “... thank you, though.” You leaned down, kissing the grumpy creases out of his facial expression before slipping on your boots and heading back to your own bed to catch up on missed sleep. 
At least, that was the plan. You got a good hours rest in before being woken abruptly to loud shouts and screaming. Fearing a pillager attack, you tugged on your armor as fast as you could, bolting out the door. You skidded your way into the town center, feet scrambling to join the crowd. Pushing your way to the front, you let out a small gasp as your eyes fell upon him. Techno. Stood in front of two large figures that you made out to be soul sand, in the perfect setup. All that was missing were the--
“...wither skulls, Wilbur. Hand them back, now.”
You cringed as the crowd continues to argue, mentally arguing with yourself. Of course, this is why he was acting so weird this morning. But why didn’t he tell me? Would he just let me die? To a wither? By HIS hand? Before you could begin to untangle the mess of emotions rising in you, you heard your name being yelled from in front of you.
Oh, fuck.
You were pulled tight against Techno’s chest, his sword millimeters away from your neck.
‘Pleasepleaseplease’ you whimpered, internally begging your knees not to collapse on you. The way that everyone had their eyes on you being held close by the God who had his way with you in secrecy every night should not bring this much of a flush to your cheeks as it did. The way his sharp blade pressed directly against your neck, imitating where his hands lay when he ruins you should not have you immediately as soaked as you were. The way his arm wrapped around your waist a little too tight so you could feel him pressed against your back should not be making you tear up with want as much as you were now.
 This should not be as hot as it was. Your life was on the line. In the hands of Technoblade. But fuck, was it hot.
 His breath was heavy on the back of your neck as he cleared his throat, turning to the crowd that once challenged him, now not daring to move an inch.
“Let me leave. With the Wither Skulls. Or (y/n) dies.”
You let out a soft whimper at the complete roughness of his voice. To them, it sounded like pain. But the quiet, shaky breath Techno let out in response let you know he felt the same way. 
“Give him the skulls. Let him leave,” a commanding voice piped from the crowd after a moment. Your mind was too hazy to even register who it was, feeling yourself drop to the floor as the one holding you disappeared in seconds, teleporting far away with the help of a pearl. You let yourself be drowned in questions and comfort, eventually being carried back to your home. Everyone offered to stay to protect, even comfort you, but you managed to nail your act - saying that all you wanted was to sleep, and if Techno came back, you would kill him yourself. And, to be fair, it wasn’t all an act. You did want to kill him for pulling that stunt, scold him for how dangerous it was. Left to wallow alone in your pity party, you curled up under the covers, attempting to drift off to sleep.  
-
You woke several hours later, renewed with fiery energy blossoming in your chest. The sun had already set, just like your mind had - set on trekking out to Techno’s cabin once more to denounce your secrecy meetings. It was over -- done. You did not want to stand in between him and L’Manberg anymore. It was just... just all too much. Overwhelmed with anger, you forwent all armor and weapons, pulling your dark blue cape over your shoulders and leaving out the window as quiet as possible. No matter what, you repeated to yourself on your journey, you were not going to let him touch you. 
You made it to Techno’s cabin in record time, the adrenaline coursing through your veins blocking out winter’s chill. Raising your fist, you let your first bout of anger out on the door, knocking loudly, hoping that you were interrupting him during something important, or even better - sleep. Despite your hopes, he opens the door with a straight, stone face, biting into the soft skin of an apple. Shirtless. Fuck. Fighting to keep your eyes on his, he quirked an eyebrow in the silence.
“You coming in?”
You accepted. It was cold. You swear that was the only reason.
Stepping inside, you watched him turn back to his bookcase, sorting through the top shelf nonchalantly. You stared at him, anger rising. 
“So you’re not going to apologize?”
“Apologize for wha’?” he questioned, mouth full of fruit, not bothering to turn around. 
“I don’t know, for using me as a fucking human shield, maybe?” You scoffed. “Threatening my life by YOUR hand?”
“Why would I apologize?” He crouched to browse through the second shelf. 
Your hands came up in disbelief, landing on your hair and tugging at the roots in frustration.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Why are you acting like this?”
He finally turned, face still as stone as before.
“Why would I apologize if you liked it?”
You choked on your breath, shaking your head to avoid eye contact.
“You’re fucking crazy, Tech. Seriously, you need help.”
He let out a sigh, setting his snack on top of the bookcase before standing up, locking eyes with yours as he stalked over to meet you.
“You think I couldn’t smell you? I bet every hybrid out there could have. You were dripping from just one touch.” A hand reached out to cup your cheek, stroking a thumb over your skin as he shook his head patronizingly. “So don’t try to lie to me, princess,” spitting the nickname out like it was fire on his tongue. 
You could feel your face grow red under his touch. Your brain reeled, trying to get back on track of your original plan and ignore his words. But it was too late. The memory of your smell, the one being mirrored now in the small space of his cabin, had him fired up, his pupils wide. He took your hand, spinning you around to face the mirror that hung just inside the entryway of his home. You heard his sword before you could see it, as he unsheathed it from his weapon belt that hung close by on the coat rack, pressing it up against your neck for the second time that day. 
“Is this what you wanted?” He mumbled through gritted teeth, sounding angrier with each passing second. “Is this how you wanted to play tonight?” He tugged the blade dangerously closer as you held your breath, searching his eyes through the mirror. “Cus I’ll play,” he spat, bruising your hip with his free hand. 
You whimper as he tosses the sword aside abruptly, letting it crash to the floor. 
“Or maybe you want my teeth, right over your pulse point? Hovering over the one spot that’ll end you with one wrong move?” Techno lets out a primal growl, glancing up to catch your eyes in the reflection, widening his jaw and clamping his teeth around your neck ever so gently, canines digging into the skin and drawing blood to the surface. You watch as his eyes darken to a pure black, fluttering in pleasure as he inhales the metallic scent. Your heart races in your chest, arms behind you, using his body to keep yourself upright. He retracts his mouth, careful not to pinch an artery.
“You like feeling scared?” He mumbles, hands roaming around your chest. He didn’t expect you to nod, audibly groaning, loving just how much you were enjoying yourself. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”
Eyes fluttering, you nodded again. “For you.”
His hand flew up to your hair, grabbing a handful and tugging, forcing your head back to look straight up at him.
“Open.” He muttered. You complied, letting out a soft moan as he spat into your mouth, forcing your jaw closed with his free hand, making you swallow. He kept his grip tight, letting out a heavy exhale. “Good job, little one.” 
Keeping his eyes on yours, his free hand unbuttoned your pants, pushing them down your hips, letting them pool at your feet. You watched his eyes flutter as he caught your scent once more, slipping a thumb into your mouth. 
“Your body is just begging for me, isn’t it, little one? ‘s like you can’t get enough of me, can you?”
You moaned in confirmation around his finger, swirling your tongue around it and sucking hard, making his hips involuntarily buck against your body. 
“God, you’re such a slut,” he growled, teeth nipping at your ear. He worked his own pants off, tugging your underwear down as he went. “Look at me,” he begged, pushing your head back forward to face him in the mirror as he slides easily into your soaked heat.
The moan that escaped you when he bottoms out is the lewdest thing he’s heard in years, and you feel him twitch inside you in response. You clench around him, making it that much harder for him to move. He grits his teeth and pulls your arms back behind you, holding them together in one hand, the other moving from your chin to lay flat against your stomach, pushing you back into him. You clench around him again as he shifts his weight to hold you up better, and he pinches the skin of your stomach in punishment. “Behave,” he growls directly into your ear, “and maybe I’ll think about letting you cum.” 
Techno doesn’t hold back, his thrusts harsh and punishing, brows knitted as he focuses solely on his own pleasure. You can’t help but relish in the fact that he was using you as his own, personal plaything, and you were fucking enjoying it. Your mind buzzed on pure pleasure, not being able to differentiate his moans from yours. You didn’t even realize your eyes were closed until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, his hand leaving your stomach to tattoo his claim, bringing you clarity from the sub headspace you had fallen in. His eyes found yours in the mirror once more. “Tell me,” he grunted, pleasure written all over his face. “Tell me you’re loyal to me, that you choose me. Tell me you’re mine.”
That breaks you, letting out a sob as tears began to fall. You didn’t mean to get emotional, but he’s fucking you so good, and you’re so tired, tired of not being his, tired of having to hide. L’Manberg couldn’t love you as he could.
“It’s you,” you cry out, gasping out words in between every thrust. “Fuck, Tech, I’ll tell them-- it’s you-- please, I’m yours- make me yours.”
His hips slow at your confession, face coming down to rest in the crook of your neck. He nuzzles against your skin as if he could mark you with his scent, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach. “I’ll make you mine,” he promises, voice now soft, gentle. “I’ll take care of you.” He let go of your arms, slipping a hand in yours and intertwining your fingers. You cried out as his other hand reached down to stimulate in between your legs.
“Please, let me cum,” you whispered into the heat of the cabin, head falling back onto his chest, eyes closing, forcing the last few tears caught in your eyelashes to fall.
“Go ahead, princess, ‘been so good. Cum for me.”
He finds his peak right after yours, the way your heat fluttered around him, pushing him over the edge. Your hand tightened in his as you both attempted to ground yourselves. Your head felt utterly numb, void of all thoughts other than Techno’s body still pressed against yours, his thumb running gently across your palm. Your heart lurched at the softness of his touch.
“I meant it, by the way,” you whispered into the darkness. “I’ll tell them, if you let me be yours.”
His cold heart was on fire at your words, tilting your head up for the softest kiss. 
“I want nothing more, princess.”
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bevioletskies · 3 years
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(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 ❤️
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arvandus · 4 years
Text
Touch (Pt 5)
Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*
Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).
Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.
Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker​ who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!
Chapter warning: This’ll get a bit heavy; just a heads up.  Please be aware of the warning tags.
Recommended Chapter Song: Put Me Under by Grandson
Part 1  Part 4
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Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)
Part 5 - The Beast
Dabi walked down a long hallway, dark wooden floors cast in a dim orange glow from the mounted wall sconces.  Every feature was cast in heightened detail – the color of the walls, the pictures on them, the ceiling with its wooden planks mirroring the floors like a fun house. But something was off about it.  The sound of his footsteps was strangely absent, the faces in the pictures blurred by a shadow that shouldn’t exist. 
It was familiar, this place.  It filled him with a strange longing mingled with vague trepidation.
The whisper of voices came like a mist, seeping from the walls and soaking into his skin, cold and clammy.  The voices were familiar, voices he thought he’d long since forgotten the sound of.  He couldn’t make out the words; they jumbled together, swirling into a single hum that vibrated his bones and made his pulse race.  Through the din, he thought he heard the sound of crying, a mother’s wail.
Fear seized him, a paralyzing fear he hadn’t felt in years. He had to leave this place.  He took the door closest to him, turning the handle to step into black nothingness and suddenly he was falling, falling.  He screamed, his voice the sound of a boy, his hands small like a child’s, wrapped in dirty bandages grasping at nothing.  Blue flames erupted underneath him, devouring him like an ancient beast come to take him down into hell.
Dabi sat up in his bed with a jolt, his nerves screaming and his sheets drenched in sweat as the sound of his heavy panting filled the room.  It was dark, except for the moonlight that crept through his window carried on a cold night breeze with each soft billow of the curtain.
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to steady his pounding heart.  The nightmares were coming back.
Dabi’s head pounded.  Every muscle in his body ached, his damaged nerves on fire.  A wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, retching and gagging in the darkness.  Once he was sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and sat down on the lid with his head in his hands while his dark world spun around him. He was a celestial body, knocked off its axis and careening into the burning sun of reality.  There was no soft curtain between himself and the harshness of the cold floor under his feet, the sour taste in his mouth, or the loudness of the crickets outside his window.  There was no comforting haze to cocoon himself in, his chrysalis torn from him before he could finish his transformation.  He felt incomplete, broken, hungry.
Your pills weren’t enough.  They had helped a little at first, but his body was already burning through them and adapting, wanting more.  The addiction was a raging beast that couldn’t be satiated, and right now, in the stink of his bathroom with his sweat drying on his skin, he could feel its familiar pull.  It was a siren’s song, played on the strings of his nerves in an off-tune melody that only he could hear.  It sang of old promises, a promise of freedom from pain and suffering, a promise to protect him against his nightmares like a faithful guardian, a promise of sleep… if only he could pay the price.
He needed more.  More of your pills, more of his own… just more.  Anything to make this feeling go away, to put this beast to rest.
There was no peace for him when he was like this.
He thought of you.  You had said he could come to you at any time.  Did you really mean it?  If he knocked on your door at this hour would you let him in?  Would you give him what he needed?
Would you understand?
Desperation made Dabi pull himself up from the toilet, and he stared at himself in the mirror.  Disgust filled him.  In the dark of his bathroom, the shadow of his face looked downright terrifying. Would the sight of him late at night cloaked in shadow scare you?  Would you scream?
You said it would be okay.
Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of his sink as he forced deep, long breaths into his aching lungs.  He didn’t have a choice.  He quickly rinsed his mouth with water to rid himself of the taste lingering in his mouth and made his way out of his room and down the hall.
Dabi stopped outside your door, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on your doorknob. 
He hesitated.  A vague memory of your wounded expression drifted into his tattered mind. He had forgotten that he had hurt you, and he wondered if that would make a difference now. Were your words just words?  Empty promises to be abandoned as soon as you got stung?
The beast of addiction growled threateningly.  If you abandoned him, it would take what it needed by any means necessary.  Its survival was paramount.
Not a lot scared Dabi.  But in that moment, the thought of him hurting you to feed his addiction made him almost turn around and go back to his room.  Or leave the building all together.  Anything to get himself away from you.
But his feet wouldn’t move.  They were rooted into the ground, his body poised like a blood hound who’d caught a scent.  The beast knew where the drugs were and wouldn’t let him leave.
Maybe he’d apologize. He hated apologizing; he never apologized for anything.  But in this case, it’d be worth it, if only you’d open that little bottle to alleviate his suffering so he wouldn’t have to do it himself.  Shit, maybe he’d even mean it, if it meant seeing your smile again.
Just as Dabi was about to take his hands out of his pockets to knock on your door, a familiar grating voice cut through his mental fog like high beams on a dark road.
“You’re up late.” Shigaraki commented.
Dabi clenched his hand into a fist within the pocket of his sweatpants and turned to face the pale man staring at him in the hall with as much boredom as he could muster.  “So are you.” Dabi replied.
“I’m always up late.”  Shigaraki commented.  He cocked his head to the side curiously, a glint in his eyes. “What are you doing?”
Dabi couldn’t tell him.  Wouldn’t tell him. It was none of his business. Anger bubbled in his chest, a raging dragon threatening to spew fire. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, feeling a metal ring clink between his molars. The pain cleared his head, but only slightly.
“Nothing.” Dabi replied.  “I was about to head downstairs for a drink.”
Shigaraki stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze calculated. Dabi knew he didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t give him the luxury of confirming his suspicions.  Finally, the hint of smirk turned the corner of Shigaraki’s chapped lips, and he began to turn to leave.  “Make sure you wash your whiskey glass this time.  I hate hearing Kurogiri complain in the morning before I have my coffee.”
As Dabi watched his back disappear into his room at the end of the hall, he let out the breath he was holding.  He stood there a minute longer to make sure he was gone. It was the most he could handle before his hand, with a will of its own, knocked softly on your door – loud enough to hopefully wake you, but not loud enough that others could hear it.
No response greeted him, and Dabi stared at the door, his blue eyes burning holes into it in anger.
You had said you’d be there for him.  Why didn’t you answer?
He resisted the urge to pound on your door, waking everyone in the process.  Instead, he leaned his forehead against your door, desperation filling him like an overflowing cup.  “Open the door.” He whispered, as if his words could reach you in your sleep. The phrase repeated, over and over, like a chant.  “Open the door, open the door…”
Did you lock your door at night?  Or could he just open it and walk in?  What would he do then?  Would he wake you up, or just take what he wanted?
Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, he heard shuffling on the other side, and he watched as light spilled out from under your door into the hallway where his own feet waited like tree roots.  Sweet relief filled him and he mentally thanked whatever God existed.
You opened the door a crack, eyes bleary as you rubbed the sleep out of them. Light flooded across Dabi’s features and he closed his eyes against the brightness, his arm going up defensively.
“Dabi?” you sleepily mumbled.  “What are you-?”
“Kill the light.” Dabi gruffly demanded.  His tongue felt dry and heavy.
You closed the door, so it was open just a crack, and he unshielded his bloodshot eyes in time to see the light in the room go out.  A moment later, the door opened again, and you stood before him, dimly lit by the hallway, in a tank top and pajama pants.
Your grogginess had dissipated like fog on a windy day, you senses on high alert to the man in front of you.  Dabi braced himself against your doorframe as if to keep from falling, his tall, lanky frame filling the space.  He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which clung to him with sweat – he hadn’t even bothered to change it before seeking you out; you wondered if it even registered for him.  His breath coated you, a staleness to it that was unmistakable and made you want to hold your breath.
Your pills must have worn off already, and he was quickly descending deep into the throes of withdrawal.
Without hesitation, you grabbed him by his hand, taking note of the hot clamminess of it, and pulled him into your room.  As you closed the door behind you with a click, darkness fell like a blanket, and all you could see at first was the outline of his tall, black form as his ragged breaths rattled from his chest.
You guided him to the edge of your bed, pushing him down gently by his shoulders. “Just wait here.” You said softly, your words just above a whisper.  You retreated to your bathroom and closed the door to keep the bathroom light from blasting into your room where he sat.  Immediately, you grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cold water of your faucet.
You weren’t in there long. You came out a moment later, leaving the light on and the door cracked to let some of the yellow glow filter into the room without being overwhelming; you needed to see what you were doing, after all.
You should have known better; as you made your way to Dabi, you realized he had your supply bag at his feet, your pill bottle in his hand. In your grogginess, you had forgotten that you kept your bag next to your bed, to keep it within reach in case of emergencies. Of course, he’d be tempted by it in his current state.
Your heart pounded in your chest.  “Dabi,” you warned.  “Don’t.”
Dabi didn’t respond to you; his eyes stared at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reading over the name on them, realization rising slowly like a hazy dawn.
“These have your name on them.”  Dabi stated.
“Dabi, give me the pills.” You ordered, your tone firm.
“Why do you have these?” Dabi asked.  You knew the question was probably rhetorical – he was in no condition to really listen to your answer.  Still, you bristled, the question too personal.
“Dabi.  Give. Me. The. Pills.”
“I need them.” He replied, his grip tightening around the bottle.
You kneeled in front of him, and you got déjà vu of your visit in his room just a day prior.  How quickly the addiction takes hold…
You placed a hand on his forearm, noting the texture of his scars under your fingers.  “I know.” You said softly.  “I’ll give you some.  Just give me the bottle.  Please.”
His grip tightened as your hand touched the lid of the bottle. “Trust me.” You whispered, trying to capture his downturned eyes with your own.  His eyes finally caught yours, and you placed your other hand over his hot fingers and gently pried them open until he relinquished the plastic container. Once it was safely in your own hands, a breath of air escaped your lungs in relief.
You opened the bottle and handed him three pills.  He stared at them.
“I need more.” He said.
Your heart throbbed painfully. “I can’t.” you replied.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” His eyes shot up to glare at you in betrayal.
“I have to make them last.” You replied.
“It’s not enough.” He said.
“I know.” You replied sympathetically.  “Take these for now, and we’ll see how you feel in a little bit.  We’ll keep a close eye on how long they last this time.”
You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that, but he swallowed the pills anyway.
“Come on.” You said. “Let me change your bandages for you since you’re here.  It’ll give the pills time to start working.”
Dabi didn’t have the will to fight you in that moment.  His world was spinning, and his stomach was roiling against the drugs hitting his empty stomach.  As if you could read his body like a book, a bottle of water magically appeared in his field of view.
“First, drink this.” You instructed.  “And I have crackers I want you to eat.”
“I’ll drink the water, but to hell with your crackers.” Dabi grumbled.
You raised an eyebrow at him.  “Well, at least your personality is still intact…” you commented dryly.
You watched him like a hawk as he drank as much of the water as he could; about half of it remained. You wanted him to drink more, but you knew that his nausea was probably keeping him from finishing it.  You really hoped he didn’t throw up the pills he just took; you had counted your pills and set a schedule.  There was just enough to make sure you didn’t run out before your refills arrived in the next day or two.
Once you were sure he was done, you stuffed the pill bottle into the pocket of your pajamas.  Dabi’s eyes followed your every movement.  “We need to take off your shirt.” You said.
Dabi pulled the damp white tee over his head and letting it drop on the floor.  Your pulse pounded shamefully in your ears; you couldn’t help it. Even with all that was going on, it felt surreal having him here on your bed of all places.  You were still mad about what he had said earlier, but when he arrived on your doorstep looking two steps away from death, none of that mattered.  You had promised him that you’d be there for him. 
You watched him for a moment, taking in his shallow breaths and the way he gripped your comforter against the pain he was enduring.  His suffering tortured you; all you wanted to do was to put your hands on him and pour your quirk into him, to caress the rings along his chest and follow your touch with gentle kisses… or to take his head into your arms and hold him close, to whisper that he’d be all right and you’d help him through this…
You pushed the ache away as you averted your eyes.  No point in tormenting yourself over something that wasn’t even yours.  Besides, right now certainly wasn’t the time for such thoughts.  You had to let the drugs do the work… or at the very least, wait until he asked for you. He was vulnerable right now, not really in his right mind.  He would go with anything you suggested, if it promised to alleviate his withdrawal. How would he feel later on once he got back to normal, knowing that you did things for him that he might not have normally wanted?  Touching him outside of what he explicitly requested was a line you refused to cross.
“Lay down on your stomach.” You instructed.
He did as you asked without comment or complaint, his long body easily filling up the space, the bottom half of his legs hanging off the edge.
You placed the wet washcloth on the back of his neck, and a low, muffled groan fell from his parted lips into your comforter.  You applied your quirk to his back before removing the bandages.  It was supposed to still be active, lasting until late morning, but there was no way to be certain with his body reacting the way it was.  You pushed a little extra into it, to make sure it would last a bit; he was already suffering enough as it was.  You paused momentarily to see if he would ask for you to do more, but he never did; his eyes stared listlessly in the direction his head was turned, not really seeing; his body seemed to be in conservation mode.  The bandages were starting to come off, losing their stickiness from his sickly sweating.  They peeled off easily, like skin off a baked chicken.  You scrunched up your nose as you threw the soiled items in the trash.
As you worked carefully, an odd silence filled the room, the kind that only seemed to exist late at night when all of the city was asleep.  It was a time when noises were quieter, but shadows seemed louder.  A time when everyday life felt muted while the ethereal danced in the streets, the streetlamps their spotlights. 
Small sounds filled the silence. Dabi’s steady breaths, the shift of your body on your mattress as you reached for fresh bandages, the sound of paper tearing as you opened a new gauze patch. 
You and Dabi were a liminal space, where neither of you lingered.  It was a place of impermanence, a space to pass through, filled with brief visits without the intent to stay.  Despite that, even now with all that had happened in the past 24 hours, it felt private… intimate.  It filled you with an unspoken longing, a desire to capture the beauty of life’s fluidity like a painter captures a landscape.  You wanted to take the impermanent and freeze it in time so you could appreciate its nuances in the shape of dark rugged scars and piercing blue eyes framed in wild hair.  To be able to stare openly instead of stolen side glances, trying to catch a ghost in your peripheral vision.  How did you end up being so drawn to him of all people?
His harsh words from the night before echoed through your mind, a rude reminder.  You swallowed the lump in your throat.  How cruel it was to be needed by someone but not wanted.
Despite that hurt, you knew wouldn’t abandon him; not like this.  You had a responsibility.
“Dabi,” you whispered, checking the face of the man spread across your bed.  His eye shifted to look at you, but he didn’t move.  “You can get up now.”
Slowly, he sat up, and you handed him his shirt, the sweat on it cooled.  You watched as he pulled it back on over his head, his back muscles rippling.  A slight shiver passed over him as the damp shirt made contact with his sensitive skin. He paused for a moment, assessing himself.  His body aches were lessened, and the nausea was milder.  But it was still there, and his head still hurt. And the hunger… the hunger was there too.
“How are you feeling?” You asked.
“Better.” He replied. A half-truth.  Or was it a half-lie?  But weren’t all half-truths just lies in disguise?
“Good.” You breathed with relief.  “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours?  Or do you want to come to me when you’re ready?”
Dabi turned to look at you, really seeing you for the first time since he arrived.  You seemed so kind, so pure… so trusting.  A guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it.
“I’ll come to you.” He replied.  “I’m gonna go lay down.” He admitted.  Why did he feel the need to tell you that?
“Of course.  Get some rest if you can.” You replied with a nod.
Dabi stared at you for a moment, taking in your patient face, trying to place the feeling within him. Or was it feelings? Some good, some bad…
His head hurt too much to sort it out.  Without a word he left your room, you following him to the door to give him a small wave and a “goodnight” framed in a gentle smile.  Something about it seemed off - were you sad?
It was his fault, but he couldn’t remember how. Memories were too heavy to hold right now. Rest. He needed rest.
As you closed the door behind him, Dabi put his hands in his pockets.  He felt something in them that wasn’t supposed to be there, and he pulled his hand out to stare at the contents.
Three pills sat in his hands, the weight of them strangely heavy.  Or was that the weight of his conscience?
How did he get these? He stared at them blankly.
He couldn’t remember.
But Dabi knew for certain you didn’t give them to him.
A voice in his head told him to turn around and give them back.  To apologize for breaking your trust, for violating the fragile agreement you had both mentally signed.
But there was another voice. One that swam in his blood like demons and controlled his muscles.
More, more, more.
He swallowed the pills.
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Part 6
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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki​ @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne​ @udontneedtokno​ @citrussaurus 
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askkrenko · 4 years
Text
Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Vulpix Line
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Wook at da fwuffy widdle foxxy woxxy! Is so cuuuuuute! 
DESIGN: 
First, I want to talk about Trifox. Trifox was cut from the original game, presumably because they felt they didn’t need an early game version of Vulpix and that mechanically it’d be fine where it was...
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But look at this little ball of fiery snuggles! Okay, this is the beta sprite from the original game, so it’s obviously not the best depiction, but you can imagine. 
Okay, moving on, Vulpix is adorable, Trifox would’ve been even more adorable, but considering I’ve ranted about Pichu and Cleffa already, I probably wouldn’t actually appreciate it being added in later. It would’ve probably had base stats in the 200 range and only be interesting if you could catch it before fighting Brock. But Brock’s a rock type and Misty’s water, so... yeah, by the time you’d want it, it’s time for Vulpix already.
Vulpix is adorable. It just is. It’s very clearly doing a Kitsune thing with its six tails, and while it really is just ‘a kitsune,’ the curls in its tail and on its head really set it apart from other depictions. 
Ninetails is more traditional Kitsune, and frankly, googling “Kitsune” finds a lot of pictures that just look like Ninetails with red stripes.  Having a Kitsune Pokemon is great, but I do wish they’d done something to its appearance to distinguish it as they did with Vulpix.  There’s a few pokemon that are just ‘it’s the mythical creature but a pokemon,’ and Ninetails is probably the worst offender here.
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Alolan Vulpix is interesting in that its six tails sort of blend into one puffy one. Overall it just looks like a white Vulpix but, well, some foxes are Arctic Foxes and are white.  I don’t know why it lives in Alola (There are no Foxes in Hawaii) but it’s still cute, it’s still Vulpix, but it’s clearly a variant.  
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Now, Alolan Ninetails is along the lines of what I wish Ninetails was. You can still clearly see the Kitsune influences, but it has this whispy, ethereal nature and a soft blue coloration suggesting its elemental affinity.  It’s just as beautiful and elegant, but looks even more mysterious, like something you’d see and then question if you actually saw it.
EVOLUTIONS: 
Well, without Trifox in the mix, Vulpix is a two-stage pokemon that evolves with the Fire or Ice stone, depending.  The door’s not really open for an evolved Ninetails, as that’d be too weird with it’s Kitsune theme, but Mega or G-Max Ninetails is on the table.   Here’s an idea: a Mega form that’s Fire/Ice type and can come from either Ninetails.
And Trifox could still show up in a later game. They’d probably do something stupid with incense, though, wheras what I’d like them to do is just drop Trifox down on Route 1 or whatever so it can Ember its way through all the bug catchers if you decided to start with the Grass Type. Then evolve early at like level 16.
TYPING: 
Being pure fire type is fine, with six resistances and only three weaknesses, but offensive coverage is only four types. Also, weakness to Ground and Rock can be problematic, as Earthquake and Stealth Rock are major players in tournaments. 
Alolan Ninetails, as a Fairy/Ice type, has four weaknesses (including a double weakness to Steel), three resistances, and an immunity to Dragon type. All in all, it’s fine. Offensively, it hits six types with super effective moves, though Fire and Steel resist both of its types.  STATS: 
Both Ninetails and Alolan Ninetails have 505 total stats, with their best stats being Speed and Special Defense.  Alolan Ninetails is the faster of the two, but Ninetails has a Physical attack comparable to its special attack, while Alolan Ninetails has a much weaker Physical Attack. Still... neither attack stat is very strong. 
ABILITIES: 
Ninetails and Alolan Ninetails have garbage regular abilities. Flash Fire changes Ninetails’ Fire Resistance into Fire Immunity and makes it do additional damage after being hit by a fire attack... But if something’s hitting you with a fire attack, there’s a reasonable chance its fire type and thus also resistant to your fire attacks.
Snow Cloak gives Alolan Ninetails 20% evasion during Hail, which requires something to set up hail, and even then only has a chance of working, and it’s an unreliable defensive ability on a pokemon that’s not exactly ‘tank’ material.
But their Hidden Abilities are Drought and Snow Warning.
Here’s the thing about Drought, Snow Warning, Drizzle, and Sand Stream: If you have them, you’re a good pokemon. Full stop.  It doesn’t matter what your other stats and abilities are, as long as they’re not complete garbage. If you can set the weather by switching in, you’re a valuable member of the team. 
Ninetails can set Sunny Day upon switching in. Alolan Ninetails can set Hail upon switching in. That’s it. That’s all they need. They’re both usable. MOVES:  In theory, Ninetails can be set up as a Physical attacker or a Special Attacker, but its only Physical attacks of note are Flare Blitz and Zen Headbutt. They’re not the worst, but its Special lineup is much stronger.
For special attacks, Ninetails gets Flamethrower, Fireblast, Overheat, Weather Ball, Dark Pulse, Extrasensory, Scorching Sands, and most importantly, Solar Beam. Ninetails is a fully self contained Sunny Beamer.  And what’s Solar Beam good against?  Ground, Rock, and Water, all THREE of Ninetails’ weaknesses! 
And if you have a moment to set up, Ninetails can learn Nasty Plot, too.  Despite a relatively mediocre Special Attack stat of 81, Ninetails can blast hard.
Unfortunately, that’s sort of where Ninetails’ ability ends.  Nasty Plot, Solar Beam, Weather Ball, and... maybe Scorching Sands because Fire types resist Grass and Fire.  If an enemy gets rid of the Drought, just switch out Ninetails and bring it back later. A Heat Rock is your friend here, but so is anything that just lets Ninetails do more damage.  Another option for a fourth move is Will-O-Wisp. It’ll allow Ninetails to damage things with huge special defense, and reduce the damage from an opponent’s physical moves, severely weakening a lot of pokemon.
Alolan Ninetails’ Snow Warning summons Hail rather than creating Sun, which makes for an entirely different style of moves.  Alolan Ninetails’ super special awesome move is called Aurora Veil, an ability that halves all incoming damage to your whole team, but only works when Hail is up. If Hail ends, Aurora Veil does not, so rather than worrying about the Icy Rock, Alolan Ninetails wants Light Clay to increase Aurora Veil’s duration.
Alolan Ninetails can learn Nasty Plot, if it’d like, and once Aurora Veil is up it might even have time to abuse it, but that would be a two-turn setup, giving the opponent ample time to switch in something with a Steel move.
Alolan Ninetails’ best Fairy attack is Moonblast, but that can be a bit difficult to get as it’s an Egg move, but Sword and Shield made that much easier to pull off.  Its best Ice attack is Blizzard. The normal drawback of Blizzard, low accuracy, is ignored during Hail.  Depending on your team, your Alolan Ninetails may want Freeze-Dry for coverage against Water pokemon. It’s another egg move which would be mutually exclusive with Moonblast if SwSh didn’t change how egg moves work.
OVERALL:  Kantonian Ninetails has Drought with Solar Beam and Fire Moves. Alolan Ninetails has Snow Warning with Aurora Veil and Blizzard. They’re full-package weather pokemon as long as you get the hidden ability.  Everything else is secondary. When a pokemon has a good ability and the moves and stats to work with it, it can be magic, and Ninetails has all the moves that Drought and Snow Warning could want.
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violet-gaze · 5 years
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The Strength of the Stars (Aizawa x teacher!reader) Part 3
After a near death experience, what will be waiting for the reader when she wakes up in an unfamiliar place? Better yet, what has become of Aizawa?
Warnings: slight swearing
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Darkness was a sweet embrace that you never thought you'd miss, but the pain you awakened to almost made you want to plead to be knocked out again. Soft sheets caressed your fingertips, and you felt a fluffy softness underneath your head. Lights were becoming brighter behind your closed eyelids as your mind finally woke up, but a throb of pain rattled your skull so violently that it threw you into a daze.
Pictures and memories began to flood your mind as you let out an audible groan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Flashes of blue and green signified different terrains under one roof, glimmering red rams covered the ground beneath your hovering feet, and the familiar mixture of gray and yellow seemed more vibrant than the rest. It seemed more important-
The next moment, your torso lifted from the bed and your eyes snapped open, alarm and worry coursing through your veins. A throb of pain rang through your skull once more, and you winced as you observed your surroundings. Large open windows that gave you a clear view of the sky. Whitewashed walls that matched nearly all of the decor in the room. Shining silver instruments that pinched and pulled at your arm as the connecting tubes smarted at your sudden movements.
Yep. You were in a hospital room- alone and confused as glimpses of the past continued to piece themselves together.
Your hand slammed onto the call button, and a nurse hurried into your room seconds later. He looked shocked and a bit bedraggled as he checked your vitals,
"Hello, Miss (L/N)! I didn't expect you to be awake so soon after the incident! You've been through quite a lot, so I suggest taking it easy. I promise everything will be explai-"
"Stop your jabbering and tell me where Shouta Aizawa is."
"I think we should discuss your injuries first-"
"Boy, if you don't tell me the whereabouts of Shouta Aizawa, I swear to you that I'll send this entire floor into a frenzy of chaos. It's in your best interest to answer me right now."
The nurse had the decency to look afraid as he paused his frenzied movements. He held his hands in front of him in an act of surrender as he spoke slowly, as if to a startled animal, "He's been through a few surgeries, but he will be fine, from what I've heard in passing. You've sustained some injuries yourself. The villain nearly cracked your head open, but you've been treated by the best doctors in the hospital. You'll live to see another day, but you still have to recover. He also did a number on your right arm. Can you feel anything?"
You hadn't even noticed the white bandages that were wrapped tightly around your arm, but your awareness allowed you to wiggle your fingers. The nurse nodded and jotted something down on a clipboard, "Good, that means that you'll have full control over your arm once it mends. I will warn you, though. You'll probably have some pretty gnarly scars when all of this is said and done."
You glared at the nurse with your best resting bitch face, "Alright, you've filled me in on all of my injuries. Now, I want to be taken to where Aizawa is. That isn't a suggestion- it's an order."
He gave you an odd look, "You have no authority here?! I don't exactly think that you are in any position to be giving orders. If you asked NICELY..."
Before you could retort and dig yourself into a deeper hole, you heard the door creak open. A bandaged hand became visible, and Aizawa entered with one of his arms tightly wrapped in white gauze and a similar bandage wrapped around his head to cover one of his eyes. Your heart jumped into your throat, and your Aries energy pulsed like the lapping of a wave on a shoreline. The pressure in your chest had eased drastically, but you knew that you could still reach down and harness it if you really want to. 
One glare at the nurse had him muttering some sort of excuse and slipping out of the room. Your eyes never left the broken man as he sank into the chair by your bedside. You absentmindedly reached your hand up to nervously play with your hair, just to find that most of your head was covered in tight bandages as well. 
There was a tense silence, and you decided you might as well be the first to break it.
"Are you-”
"You know-"
You clamped your mouth shut as you accidentally spoke at the same time, nodding for him to continue as your cheeks warmed. Aizawa sighed, "You know, (L/N), if it weren't for you, I'd probably be completely covered in bandages. Your intervention bought us all enough time for All Might to finally arrive, even if you drew my focus away from fighting."
You tilted your head, "How did I draw your focus away? You obviously received a few injuries after I passed out... please fill me in on what happened."
Aizawa's one eye that wasn't bandaged was badly bloodshot, and you didn't even notice anything was amiss until he closed it- allowing a single tear to trace a path down his cheek. You were speechless; you'd never seen this man show ANY sort of emotion other than dry humor and apathy. And if you were shocked by the tear, you were even more so when his undamaged hand reached out to grab yours.
"There was so much blood, (L/N). I thought that we'd lost you for sure, and when I tried to rush to your side, that Nomu villain managed knock me out with a full powered punch to the eye. It wasn't like my quirk was doing any good on him anyways, but that was around the time that All Might stepped in.
"When I regained consciousness, I was in an ambulance. They sedated me pretty soon after, but I woke up a while ago to find that my surgeries were done. They warned me to stay in bed- but they couldn't stop me from coming to see you. I'm sorry... for not being able to protect you, for doubting your power, for becoming distant. I can't fathom how I would react if... if you weren't alive. (Y/N), if I'd lost you..."
You were silent for a few moments, absentmindedly squeezing his hand as he trailed off into labored breathing. It was the first time he’d spoken this much to you. You took a deep breath, your Aries spirit already sending shocks of electricity through your veins. You weren't sure if it was your quirk or the physical contact of your hand held tightly in Aizawa's. You looked over at him, drinking in his ruffled features and the downcast, gloomy gaze that wouldn't lift to you.
"Shouta, look at me." It took a few seconds, but he finally lifted his one good eye to meet your (E/C) ones, "It's alright; I forgive you. I'm not dead, so there's no reason to bring the 'what ifs' into the picture. You jumped into that fight knowing that you were outnumbered, so I didn't expect you to protect me. Our job was to protect the students, and we did exactly that. I hold so much respect for you, and although I was hurt by your accusations of my weak power, I can see where you were coming from. Nobody was supposed to know about how strong my quirk is; Nezu was one of the few people that knew. It's okay."
Aizawa held your gaze as his thoughts raced, a rare display of emotions only for you to see. His grip on your hand tightened even more, "Thank you for your forgiveness. This close call really showed me how much I would regret pushing you away if you were no longer in my life, so I want that to end now. Would you...possibly...want to get dinner with me sometime?"
Your heart skipped a beat, and your energetic nature skyrocketed, "Really? Like, you're asking me on a date? This has to be a fever dream; what drugs did they give me?"
He cracked a smile, "Yes, (Y/N), I'm asking you out on a date. Since you've turned into a glow stick again, I'm guessing that's a yes?" 
You gasped, looked at your hand to see that you were indeed glowing a faint red. The blush on your cheeks didn't help, either, and you soon felt a light burning sensation on your forehead as you nodded, "Yes. I would really like that, Shouta."
"Alright, we can figure out the details later. Now, I have a few questions about your quirk. Do those appear...often?" He pointed to your forehead, and you could've died of embarrassment then and there.
"...they're back again, aren't they? Those damned horns?"
Aizawa bit his lip, obviously trying to hold back a smirk, "It's a possibility. I assume they're connected to the ram of Aries? I remember seeing them when you used your quirk yesterday."
"Yesterday? Wait, how long was I out?"
"It's the morning of the day after the attack. Why- is something wrong?"
You smiled softly, your Aries energy a comforting warmth as it flowed through your veins, "Today's my birthday. I never thought I'd be spending it in a hospital room."
"What? Today's your birthday? We have to celebrate- what would you like to do?"
Your smile deepened as you tugged his hand closer, basically cuddling with his arm at that point, "Honestly, I'm content just as I am- right here. Your presence and acceptance is the best gift I ever could’ve received."
The rest of the day was filled with nurses lecturing you on how to take care of your broken body, and the entire process of being discharged. Aizawa was by your side the entire time, and when the both of you finally walked out the hospital doors, the sky was turning different shades of pink and orange with the setting of the sun. He took you to a restaurant that you'd never heard of, which just happened to a be a small, family owned place that served delicious food. When that was over, he walked you back to your apartment. 
You didn't want the day to end, because the following one would usher in the worries of the villain attack, the daily grind of being a teacher, and the impending sea of questions about your quirk that you didn’t even know the answers to. You were just happy to be in the calm before the storm. 
You turned to face Aizawa as you stood in your doorway, "Despite everything that has happened, you made my birthday something memorable. Thank you so much."
You swore that you saw a slight blush dust his cheeks as he reached up to flick one of your translucent horns, "These are cute. Does this happen with every zodiac season?"
"You should see Scorpio's. You may think these are cute, but try dealing with a scorpion tail that's always knocking things over."
Aizawa let out a bark of laughter, and you stared at him in shock. The day had held a lot of firsts, but his laugh was definitely on the top of the list. He smiled down at you, ruffling your hair, "You know, since just about everyone will know about your quirk sooner or later, how about you train it so that you don't have these sudden outbursts of chaotic energy every month? I could use my quirk to stop you if you ever got too out of control, and you could find a way to channel that energy into day to day tasks so that it could be more manageable?"
Your eyes pricked with tears as hope began to swell in your chest. Before you knew what you were doing, you threw yourself at him to hug him tightly. Both of you let out an "ow" as your injuries throbbed in response, but it didn't matter because you were overwhelmed with so many positive emotions that it drowned out anything else.
You would never have to fear yourself again, you were finally getting recognition for your impressive quirk, and the man that you'd been pining for returned your feelings. Every month would bring on a new set of challenges as your personality shifted and molded to a new set of core motivations, but one thing would stay the same. You would never be alone again as you tackled the responsibility of harnessing the strength of the stars.
A/N: This will be the last part of my Aizawa imagine! I maybe will come back with some short fics about the rest of the zodiacs, but we shall see in time. Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback- I hope y’all enjoyed it!
Taglist: @imstillsingle @thecryingsombra @starynightboys @randomkpopthings @movedto-lovebythestarss @slutlanna976 @redxlovett @succulent-momma @nightowleli @thaliadoesthings
ALSO: If you want to be tagged in any of my other upcoming fics, please comment or let me know to be added to a permanent taglist!
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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years
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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 60: Final Exam Part 2: Multiple Choice
Presenting the next chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!
All chapters can be found here
Shota took in a deep breath and let out a scream, high-pitched and powerful.  The sonic waves passed through the buildings ahead of them and then bounced back, giving him a detailed outline of everything and everyone those waves had touched. It was like seeing a picture in his head, online mostly just in sharp blue outlines.  Normally, he couldn’t get this good of a picture.  Solid objects slowed down the soundwaves and bounced them back.  But with so many of the buildings having shattered windows or other hole in them, he could get a much better picture of what was going on.
“I count four people in the buildings,” he said, pointing.  “Two there, one there, one there.   Plus three people outside it and at least four more people up past that building, but it gets fuzzy after that.”
“Good job, Shinso,” Sora Iida told him.  In her red and silver armor, combined with her height, she stood out distinctly in the morning sun.  “I can scout ahead and take the far point, while you three work on the closer rescues.”
“Who put you in charge?” Aoyama asked.  He was lit up like a small sun himself; with his arms and face exposed, his glow made him hard to even look at directly.  
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Iida asked.  It wasn’t a challenge, the way Kirishima-Bakugo might have asked it, but genuine interest.  Of course, given Iida’s scientific leanings, she would be interested in the best outcome.
“…Non,” he admitted.  His shoulders slumped and he gave his cape a flick.  “Let us do your plan then.”
“We must also be vigilant against the presence of Villains, Aoyama,” Koda said, cautiously.  She usually was the one to rein Aoyama in when he was getting an attitude or pouting.  “Iida is the fastest of us.  If anyone should be scouting ahead, it is her.”
Aoyama crossed his arms, but grumbled his assent. Shota knew he liked to show off and be the center of attention, but now really wasn’t the time for it.  Not with all of them passing or failing depending on it.   Shota was already worried enough that he was going to drag everyone down…  He’d kept it together during training since he came back to school, but this was a lot more intense.
“You are correct as always, Mademoiselle Koda,” Aoyama conceded.
The matter settled, Iida said, “Remember, we are to check in with Tos—Gravi-Might and the others in ten minutes, unless they contact us first.”  With the roar of her Jetpack, the wings of her costume snapped up and she took off, quickly speeding into the distance.
Shota, Koda, and Aoyama snapped into action as well.  None of them possessed Quirks which granted much speed, but they were all still in good enough shape for a quick jog. On the road ahead of them, a pair of cars had crashed into each other.  One had been abandoned, but the other was crushed where a downed electrical pole had landed on it.  It showed no obvious signs of still being active, but…  
“Hang on, sir!” Shota called out to the robot behind the wheel of the car.  “We’re going to get you out!”
From the robot, there was no response.  Unconscious, then?  That meant they really needed to move.
Fortunately, Koda was one step ahead of him.  From the seed pouch on her belt, she produced a handful of seeds and tossed them near the car.  Once in the ground, she applied her Quirk and they immediately started to grow, becoming vines that wrapped their way around the pole, covering each stray wire, and slowly lifting it off the car.  
“My hastily grown friends do conduct a little electricity,” she said, “but not enough to do them significant harm.  And far less harm than that would do to us.”
Aoyama stepped in next. With the car partially smashed, there was no way they were just opening the door to get the robot out.  From the mirrored wristband on his right arm, he released a small portion of his stored light, going for a concentrated blue-white laser beam that cut through the car like a hot knife going through butter, leaving an orange-hot line behind it.  When he had gone completely around the edge of the door, he took a quick step back as it fell.
“Watch the edges!” Shota said.  “They’re going to be hot!”
Aoyama shot him a dirty look.  “I know that!” he snapped.  But the look on Aoyama’s face said he didn’t.  With care, though, he extracted the robot.   “Do not worry,” he told it.  “We shall get you somewhere safe.”
Getting it a safe distance away was enough for the robot to tell them they had completed its rescue. The other rescues went just as quickly.  Shota was even able to use his Quirk to blast away some rubble, letting Koda and Aoyama finish up the rescue.  It felt good.  Even if they were robots, using his Quirk to find people, to help them, not to cause harm, was a welcome change.  Still, some small part of him still flinched at unleashing the more destructive aspects of his Quirk, even for rescue work.  He could still see the Nomu simply disintegrating under his power.  Even if it had turned out not to be alive, he hadn’t know that at the time…
With a road of jet engines, Iida returned, landing near them.  “I was able to rescue two, but I will need additional support for the others,” she said.  “But first… Loud Kid, another sonar sweep, if you would, in case the parameters have changed?”
Shota nodded. But just before he could let out another sonar pulse, a loud crack sounded, echoing off the buildings.   Something struck Aoyama in the head and he went down!
***
Isamu skidded to a stop, braking hard with a bit of reverse-thrust.  The section of Omega City his group had headed to was a wreck, looking like a tornado had hit it.  Robot civilians were running from a Villain, a muscular man with bird-like feet that ended in sharp talons, hair that turned into feathers and spread along his back, and massive wings. He wore tattered jeans and very little beyond that, with tattoos covering the space on his back between his wings. When he flapped his wings, he unleashed massive gusts of wind, blowing over everything in his path.  The tornado theory was looking pretty solid.
The Villain hadn’t noticed them yet, content in his rampage, with his back to them.  His shock momentarily halted, Isamu stood up. Already, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest.  Even if this was some Pro-Hero helping out U.A. or one of the other year teachers or something, this felt like a Villain attack.   Whoever they were, they were doing a damn good job getting into their role.
Of course, if he was a Hero, Isamu felt like he should have recognized him.  But there weren’t a lot of Pro-Heroes with wings (Hawks and Kestrel immediately came to mind, but this definitely wasn’t either of them) and this guy didn’t seem to match up to any of them.  Maybe from another country?  He wasn’t so good with those.
“That’s right!” the winged man shouted.  “Run! Run!” He flicked his wings forward again, sharply. The wave of air was more compressed this time, slicing through everything in its path.  The change in air pressure was intense. Even as far away as they were, even from behind him, Isamu could fell it.  This guy’s Quirk might make him even stronger than Gale Force…
“…I’m open to suggestions here,” Sero said.  “I mean, I could probably shoot some Tape at him, but those wings look pretty strong. I’d have to take him completely by surprise and I’m just not fast enough to wrap him up before he notices.”
“Yeah, this why I’m going into Rescue Heroics,” Ojiro added.  “I guess I could go invisible and kick him in the balls…”
“X-Ray,” Isamu said, and he had to force himself to say Sero’s Hero name, “Stick ‘Em Up… Rescue the civilians.  Amaterasu and I will get his attention and hold him off.”
Behind the clear face plate of his costume, Sero gave him an astonished look, then performed an exaggerated salute.  “It’s been nice knowing you, man.  You ready, Kimmie?”
Ojiro nodded, a gesture only visible because of the visor she wore with her eye-searingly bright costume. Sero wrapped an arm around her and in the blink of an eye, they both became invisible, shielded from view by the power of her Quirk.  Isamu heard the “thwip!” sounds of Sero firing off a strand of his Acid Tape and he knew they were on the move.
Tokoyami’s expression was more unreadable, but Isamu had known her long enough now to read some of the more subtle movements of her feathers and her eyes.  She was uneasy, but ready to fight.
Training had mostly pitted them against robots or, occasionally, each other.  And yes, they’d been allowed to engage some very minor level criminals and Villains during their Internships.  But this was something different entirely.  Who even was this guy?
“Ready?” he asked her.
“Ready,” she said.
“Could be bad,” he said. “Guy seems pretty powerful.”
“So are we,” she said. “Have confidence, Haimawari.”
She had a point.  “I’ll go low.  You go high.”
There was a small nod between them, and Isamu launched himself forward, employing his Quirk as soon as he hit the ground.   “Hey!” he shouted, pouring on the speed and trying to get the guy’s attention.  “How about picking on someone your own size, you big blowhard!”
That got the guy’s attention.  He turned quickly and Isamu could now see that he had harsh, yellow eyes like a bird as well.  “Well, well,” the guy said, a trace of a Chinese accent in his voice, “if it isn’t the brave little Heroes!”  His wings flared out and Isamu felt a massive gust of wind push against him.   He poured on the thrust, fighting against it, more grateful than ever for the goggles and bandanna protecting his eyes, mouth, and nose.  There was plenty of dust and debris in the air that could have been really nasty otherwise.
Fortunately, he was just the distraction.  With the bad guy focusing on him, he didn’t see Tokoyami’s Frog-Shadow snaking around from above.  But suddenly, Frog-Shadow swerved from her path, flying erratically through the air, until she smashed into the ground, leaving a small crater from the impact. Isamu too, suddenly saw the world spinning around him, making it impossible to tell where the street was. He swerved, hard, and saw a wall coming up right in front of him…!
***
Midoriya had one of the strongest Quirks in the class, up there with Izumi, Shinso, and Tokoyami, and he’d bounced off the Villain like a ragdoll!  He was getting back up, but it would take him a minute.  That impact looked like it was going to hurt tomorrow.
The metal man grinned in a way that vaguely reminded Chihiro of Kirishima-Bakugo, the same kind of “this is gonna be a fight and I’m gonna enjoy it” sort of smile she got before she punched someone.  It was made all the worse by the truly massive underbite the guy had.  His bottom jaw was huge, like the scoop bucket on a steam shovel.  Where the hell had U.A. found this creepazoid?  It was part of the exam, right?  It hadn’t been crashed by some real Villain, had it?   No, if that was the case, Aizawa and the other teachers would be intervening already…
“You going try and fight me like the green kid there?” the metal man asked.  Despite looking like a thug, he didn’t sound stupid or uneducated. The voice was deep, rumbling, and confident like a champion fighter.  “Nothing wrong with running.  I’ve fought plenty of Heroes before and come out on top.  I don’t like fighting girls, but if I have to….  Well, I’m not leaving without the doc.”
“Girls”? Mika repeated. She stamped a hoof on the ground and pointed an indignant finger.  “The nerve of this guy!  We’re Heroes in training!  And he’s trying to softball us?  I demand the right to be fought just like a guy!”
Anybody else, Chihiro would have thought they were babbling.  But among Mika’s many skills was provocation.  It had worked well for her during the Sports Festival and judging by the guy’s expression, it was working now.
“I mean, really,” Mika went on, “what rock did they find you under?  Haven’t you heard of women’s liberation?  Have you even talked to a woman in the last twenty years..?”
The metal man let out a roar and charged, smashing his metal fists down.  Mika dodged out of the way and his fists hit the ground.  Or rather, they hit what was on the ground: Mika’s sticky balls, the trap she’d seeded earlier.
He tried to pull his fists back but was unsuccessful, the sticky balls adhering quite well to his fists and the ground.  His eyes widened in surprise as he realized he was trapped.
“Shock-Jock!” Izumi called out.  “Now!”
Which was when Chihiro and Izumi let him have it.  Her Cords slinked down and plugging into her bracers and she brought her hands up, sending out dual blasts of electricity.  Bless Aunt Momo and Mrs. Hatsume, they did their job well, specialized circuits in the bracers and gloves directed the electricity in a straight line. Izumi, meanwhile, released some of the heat she had stored up from building the ice walls, projecting yellow-orange blasts of flame at the guy.  
Her electric attack hit first, setting the guy twitching and screaming, before Izumi’s flames washed over him, turning some of his metal body white hot.  Chihiro actually felt kind of bad.  This was still just the exam, right?  She had to take it serious, but she didn’t want to give the guy permanent nerve damage or anything.
Izumi ceased her fire attack and held up a hand.  Chihiro caught the signal and let up on her electric one.  The guy stood there, groaning, his metal skin making a slight pinging sound as it cooled.  
“That hurt,” he snarled.  “But this is going to hurt more!”   With a massive grunt, he freed his arms, not by removing Mika’s balls from them, but instead simply being strong enough to tear the sections of ground they were attached to up with them.
“…That’s new,” Mika said, quietly.
Fortunately, by this time, Midoriya had recovered.   “GRAVITY...BOOSTER!”    He shot forward like a rocket, then hit the guy with an uppercut that made her ears ring. The metal guy was in motion this time, not braced like before and went flying high into the air from the force of the blow, disappearing from sight.  
Still, Chihiro couldn’t help but stare, wide eyed.  “You sure All Might is only your step-grandpa?” she asked.  
He didn’t bother answering her question.  “See if you can get any of the other teams on the comms.  Mine got smashed when I hit the wall.”
***
Kenta had been exploring the inside of the building with Tensei Iida, looking for people to rescue, when something had taken them by surprise.  Or rather, someone: a massive, muscular woman who looked like she could snap you in half just by staring at you hard enough, the kind that Mineta would say could crush your head between her thighs. And for just a moment, Kenta had frozen, the memory of the Nomu rearing up over him playing on a continuous loop in his head.  
Iida had saved him, rushing in with his Jetpack to shove him out of the way.  The woman had hit Iida instead and seemingly forgot about Kenta. He hoped Iida was okay.  It would be really bad if he had to tell Takuma he’d gotten his boyfriend killed or put in traction.
Great.  He was making jokes at a time like this.  Takuma really was rubbing off on him.
He forced himself to get moving, heading back out the way he had come in.   Outside, he could see all three of his classmates (Iida was upright, that was good!, even if he was sporting a nasty dent on his armor!) fighting with the woman.  Her costume left a lot to be desired, being only stylized biker gear, with heavy spikes on the shoulders of her jacket.
Kirishima-Bakugo fired off a round of disks from her gauntlets, peppering the ground with a series of small explosions that kept the woman off balance, while Iida flew around behind her and snagged her with a capture-line from his gauntlet.  After they’d taken her off balance and restrained her, Shoji moved in, swinging all three of his right-side arms.
Great.  He was definitely going to fail the exam and make everyone else fail.   Because he’d frozen up like a damn coward.  Maybe one bad moment wouldn’t be enough.  But he needed to make himself useful somehow…
Shoji’s blows connected, but they didn’t rock the woman back even an inch.  Thought the bottom half of his face was covered, Kenta could see Shoji’s eyes widen in surprise.  The woman just laughed.
“No bad, kid,” she said. “That was a nice gift.  Let me return the favor!”
She flexed her arms and snapped Iida’s capture line like it was made of string, then hit the six-armed boy with a blow that sent him flying.
“Finally!” Kirishima-Bakugo shouted, throwing her head back and laughing.  “A challenge!”
She charged, lashing out at the woman with a series of close-range blows.  Every time a blow connected, she fired off an explosion.  Some kind of contact transfer from her gloves, if he remembered right.  It was hard to keep up with everyone’s costume and Support Gear updates.  Maybe he needed to invest in something if he wanted to keep up.
The woman may have been sent off balance by the explosions fired at her feet, but this time, they didn’t seem to do anything.  They didn’t even singe her skin.
Kirishima-Bakugo took a step back, fists still at the ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “What the hell, lady?  What’re you made out of?!”
“Can’t stop everything by hitting it, girl,” the woman sneered.  She swung her fist in a wide arc, but Kirishima-Bakugo was lighter on her feet, dodging out of the way.  Iida swooped in, striking out at high speed.  The blow clipped the woman’s chin, knocking her back for a moment and spinning her head around, before she struck out, faster than anyone that big should be able to move, swatting Iida from the sky.
What the hell was he supposed to do against that?
Wait…  
She’d gone from being thrown off balance by Kirishima-Bakugo’s explosions to being unaffected.  She’d shrugged off blows from Shoji but gotten her head spun around by Iida.  Even with Iida putting his speed behind it, Shoji had a lot more power to his punches. What if she had to know a blow was coming to block it?  
Hang on guys, he silently pleaded.  He had an idea… he just needed her to stay in one place long enough.
He’d say this for all three of them, they kept taking her hits, but they kept getting back up again. And the huge woman gave as good as she got.  She’d called Shoji’s blow a “gift” too…
But there, a telephone pole, right across the street…
As he ran towards the telephone pole, Kenta did a little math in his head, grateful for the fact that unlike Takuma and Kimmie, he actually paid attention in class.  There was lots of math involved in baking and he was good enough at helping his dad to do some calculations on the fly. If she didn’t move too much, it would be just about right.  
CHOMP!  Kenta’s jaw muscles were strong and he could open his mouth wider than a normal person could.  Combined with the fact that his teeth were incredibly tough, he could bite through anything very quickly.  He bit, chewed, and swallowed as fast as he could, feeling like some kind of beaver as he worked his way through the wood.  He kept his eye on the fight and the woman was still in just about the right position.  In seconds, the telephone pole started to pitch forward.    “TIMBER!” he shouted, giving it a strong push to finish the job.
He saw Shoji backpedal out of the way and Iida grab Kirishima-Bakugo (who protested that she wanted to stay and fight), and the woman try ineffectually to hit them as they fled.
THUMP!
The telephone pole came down on her hard, driving her into the ground.  She’d started to turn, but hadn’t had time to fully do… whatever it was she did.  For the moment, she was trapped.
“Sato!” Kirishima-Bakugo shouted.  She looked mad.  Probably about him “stealing” her victory.  “How the hell did you do that?”  When she couldn’t was left unsaid.
He ran across the street to join the others.  “I think… I think she can absorb whatever force you throw at her.  But she has to know it’s coming.  I just got lucky.”
Kirishima-Bakugo scowled. “Yeah, okay.  …Not bad, Lips.”
“As soon as I get out of here,” the woman yelled, “you’re dead!  You hear me!  You’re all dead!”  Already, she was struggling and working her way out.
“We’ll see who’s deader, ya witch!” Kirishima-Bakugo shouted back.  “I’m gonna explode you so hard your grandkids will have burn marks!”  She brought up a gauntlet, ready to fire it.
“Ah,” Shoji began.  He put a hand on her gauntlet.
“What?” she demanded.
“Perhaps we should continue our rescue work while she’s trapped?”
“I agree,” Iida added. “She is quite capable of neutralizing our attacks and is more than ready to anticipate them.  We should rescue who we can, retreat, and fight another time.”
Kenta raised a hand slightly.
“You’re gonna agree with them, aren’t you?” Kirishima-Bakugo demanded.  Her teeth were gritted in anger, her body language tense.  She was not exactly the type of person who ran from a fight.
He gulped, then nodded. “Maybe we can get somebody like Kaminari or Todoroki or even Takuma or Minet to fight her.  Somebody more zappy or who can restrain her.”
“AAAAARRRRGH!” Kirishima-Bakugo let out a scream of frustration.  “Dammit, you’re right.  Fuck!”
She gestured off in the opposite direction they’d come.  “Iida, get eyes in the air, get on the comms and get somebody we can use.  The rest of you, move!”
***
“Aoayama!” Koda cried out. The glowing boy went down, smacking his head on the ground, before any of them could react.  But they had little time to panic.  More shots followed the fist, one several impacting into the ground, others ricocheting off the building behind them.  One even stuck Iida, making a clang where it hit her armor.
In response, Shinso screamed.  But it was not a scream of panic, instead, he directed the soundwaves outward until they formed a protective, shimmering dome around three of them.  Akaya said a small prayer that their classmate was all right. It may have only been an exam, but students had been greatly injured in training and exams before.
“Is he…?” she began, softly, bending down to examine Aoyama.
Around them, shots bounced off of the force field dome Shinso was screaming into existence.  They came quickly and from multiple directions. Was there more than one person shooting at them?  Guns were a rarity in Japan to begin with, even more so among Villains and Heroes, unless that gun augmented or worked with an existing Quirk, such as their teacher Hawkeye and her Super-Accuracy.
“Breathing,” Akaya continued, after taking his pulse.  A nasty bruise was forming along the side of his head, one she could see even through his glow.  
“Then we must move,” Iida said.  “As soon as we can.  I will distract them, while you three get to cover.”
The urgency was apparent. Shinso’s shield was already weakening. He could not sustain the scream for much longer.  He held up a shaky thumbs up to say he agreed.
Akaya scooped up Aoyama. He was a fit boy, but slender and not as muscular as Midoriya or Haimawari, let alone Shoji, and while hers was not a strength Quirk, her size and rocky countenance did make her stronger than many.   Despite his glow, his skin was not hot, but soft against her rocky one.
“Go!” Iida shouted. “Now!”
Shinso stopped screaming and the dome dropped instantly.  He took off and Akaya followed close behind, while Iida rocketed into the air.  Shots rained down around them, one narrowly missing her.
Slinging Aoyama over her shoulder instead and apologizing for the rough treatment, Akaya reached into her seed pouch with her now free hand and dropped seeds behind them, using her Quirk to make them grow rapidly.  Trees sprung up like lightning behind her, offering temporary shielding from the gunfire.
She kept her eyes on the road ahead, but she could hear the sounds of gunfire still, hear it bounce off of Iida’s armor.  
“I cannot see them!” Iida’s voice rang in her ears from their communicator headset.  “Shinso, can you pinpoint them?”
Looking around, Akaya and Shinso came to a stop, sheltering behind a car.   Shinso looked around, cautiously, then let out one of his sonar screams, casting it in various directions.  When he stopped, he made a confused face.  “I keep getting something, but it disappears as soon as I make contact.  I guess it could be a teleporter, but those kinds of Quirks are, like, super rare!  I mean, other than that kid who won the obstacle course, and we probably wouldn’t be fighting him…”
For a moment, the gunfire went quiet.  Worryingly quiet.  On her shoulder, Aoyama started to stir.  Unconscious, the arrogant boy looked much smaller and vulnerable than usual, as though he puffed himself up like a hissing cat when awake.  
She wondered sometimes why she tried so hard to be a friend to him.  He was a walking tribute to the sins of pride and envy, and just as often prone to wrath.  But there was something behind his eyes, a sadness that touched her deeply.  There was a pain he carried with him he did not share, but which fueled his vices and she wished she could ease. 
Aoyama groaned.  “I… claim this land… for France!” he exclaimed, one arm shooting straight up into the air.   “Ugh…   what hit me?”  
“Some kind of projectile,” Akaya told him, helping him get on his feet.  “Iida attempted to draw their fire while we escaped.”
Aoyama frowned.  She should tell his pride was hurt.  “Merci,” he said, simply.
Around them, the world had gone deathly silent, save for a lingering echo of Shinso’s screams.   Akaya quickly wished that she had chosen a different word to describe it than that.  But it was apt.  The strike had come out of nowhere and wasn’t even from a Quirk.  They knew less than nothing about who was attacking them.
Iida’s voice again filled their comms.  “The shooting seems to have stopped,” she said. “Like it or not, we must continue our mission.  I will try to apprise the others of the situation and then join you.”
“She wants us to go on with some maniac with a gun out there?” Aoyama hissed.  “Is she crazy?”
“We’ve… we’ve got to rescue people,” Shinso insisted.  “Even if it’s dangerous.  We’re Heroes. We can’t let everybody down.
It made sense, however dangerous it was.  Real Heroes couldn’t just huddle and hide until the danger passed.  They had to move on.  As they got up to go, something made Akaya stop.  There was the slightest of sounds, like a window shade being drawn back.  Behind them, rising up from the shadow of a building like a swimmer appearing out of the water was a woman, her features plain and ordinary, especially for this day and age.  She wore a black catsuit and carried a dangerous looking rifle.
“Then prepare to disappoint everyo—“  the woman began.
“Hey!” Shinso called out, suddenly sounding excited for some reason.  “I know you!”
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groundzerobakugo · 5 years
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not as it seems // k. bakugou
  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!
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also, i’m kinda getting like, film noir detective kinda vibes??? so imma write half of this as like, journal entries and the other half as actual scenes. i changed a few things around to allow myself better wiggle room, i hope you don’t mind! you may have just broken my writers block w this prompt!
((words or phrases with an asterisk* will have their definitions written at the end))
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23 february // tokyo
  it’s late and the rain’s coming down hard, but i can’t sleep. i’ve been hired by local police because there’s been talk of a strange beast that lurks at night, leaving victims with little to no blood left. civilians are passing it off as animal attacks, but i have reason to suspect this is the work of a vampire. however, i haven’t seen a vampire move like this in a long time. not since nagoya five years ago, back when i was still an apprentice.   this vampire doesn’t seem to hunt often, about once every other week, never the same day. they switch it up, too, there’s no link with any victims that i’ve uncovered yet.    victim one; twenty-something male. brown eyes. blond hair. a college graduate about to take over for his father’s law firm. described as a likable and easy-going guy engaged to the daughter of another larger firm. no known motive. found in marunouchi.   victim two; forty-two female. blue eyes. dark hair. single mother with three kids. worked at a  menial convenience store as a clerk. kids have gone into government care and don’t want to talk to visitors. found in tsukiji.   victim three; thirty-six year old male. green eyes. dark hair. ex-convict, charged with third-degree murder and vehicular manslaughter. no living relatives. found in shinjuku.   victim four; a seventy-eight year old male. dark eyes. dark hair. grandfather with three grandchildren, one from each daughter. described as gentle and a humorous soul. found in roppongi.   this case is already giving me a headache. no links aside from each body found in a separate district of tokyo, no pattern found between locations. this vampire may be the smartest i’ve encountered. my only wish is to have my predecessor to help me. i’ve sent word, but with him training another potential hunter, i’m left to solve this case on my own.
  (last name, first name).
-
07 march // tokyo
  the vampire has claimed yet another victim. a twenty-two year old female; dark eyes. blond hair. a wannabe fashion blogger in harajuku. her friends said she was finishing up some side work at her job and they called authorities after victim hadn’t posted to social media in two days.   i thought i could solve this case without the help of intense magic, but with the way things are progressing, i have to use all necessary skills to save the innocent lives being slaughtered. i hate cases with so much blood, it makes me uneasy. may the gods help me solve this quickly so my eyes don’t have to see another gruesome crime scene photo for another few months.   to think something that used to be human could do such actions against something they’d once been. does vampirism isolate the mind so far that you’re okay with cutting up and draining innocent souls? it’s revolting to think about.   i will be visiting the past scenes tomorrow, do some magic canvassing, see if i can get a picture of this vampire to track him down. looks like more sleepless nights ahead.
  (last name, first name).
-
  you moved quietly down the alley, fingertips brushing against the brick walls as a low blue glow followed your touch. the glow spread throughout the alley, and you stopped just before where the body had been found. you gagged at the dried blood that caked the pavement, but you swallowed and took a deep breath.
  “in oculis de mortuus.”*
  the scene before you changed as you made contact with the dried substance, a blue glow swirling and changing the scene into a dark alley, lit faintly only by street lights and the waning moon. your stomach flipped as you felt yourself fly through the air. the first victim was thrown down the alley from the sidewalk. you cried out, the world around you turning black. though, he wasn’t dead yet, he still had a faint pulse. you were still in his last moments.
  “please, please, it wasn’t what it looked like!” you heard his voice echo, your mouth moving in time.
  “that’s what they all say,” a gravelly voice replied. you turned, vision hazy as you saw the tall silhouette of your killer.
  “no! i promise i won’t do it again, please, don’t kill me!”
  “promises, promises. you humans love to fucking lie through your teeth, calling it promises. tried that shit once, asshole didn’t last a week. now, quit fucking begging, it won’t help.”
  you screamed, feeling as through your body had been lit aflame as the vampire’s teeth entered your neck, claws digging deep into your skin.
  your legs jellied underneath you, and you collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard as the scenery returned to normal. every inch of your body ached, screamed at you, with every movement. you could feel the slight trickle of blood slip down your lip, and you wiped it away.
  as much as you wanted to go home, you couldn’t. there were four other scenes to see, four other victims’ last moments to search through.
#
 you limped your way down the street, body aching and bruises; you were covered in fresh scars, and the bloody nose had yet to stop since the third victim. the sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, the full moon illuminating your path along with the street lights. people no longer ignored you, as the blood soaking your shirt and jeans caused many to stare in horror.
  every gentle breeze felt like ice-hot fire burning your skin, and you could feel the few burns on your arms and chest ache under your shirt. you’d never encountered such horrid and painful last moments before you began your hunt for the vampire. most were emotionally calm, having been elders who made their peace, but the few painful ones were small children victims of hit-and-runs or freak accidents.
  your neighbor shot you a worried glance, eyes widening at the sight of you.
  “(last name), are you alright?” kirishima eijirou asked.
  but upon seeing the ruby red eyes, your breath hitched in your throat, and you flinched away from his touch. “sorry, kiri-kun, just... rough day at work.”
  his face showed no hurt, and instead he gave you a soft smile. “i know how that is. rest easy, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”
  “thank you,” you mumbled, returning the smile, though only partially.
  he stayed in the hall just long enough to make sure you could get into your apartment, and then he gave you a wave before heading back into his own place. you two shared an odd neighborly relationship, often times only seeing one another in passing. he was some sort of detective for another district’s force, you knew that much, but as you wouldn’t want him knowing your line of work, you never asked specifics of his.
  as much as your tired limbs had wanted to just clamber into bed, you pulled up a chair at your desk and flipped open your notebook.
08 march // tokyo
  i have never experienced so much pain and regret reliving a victim’s last moments as i have today. i may have overdone it; there are so many physical wounds it feels as though i lived through each one personally. being thrown into an alley, shoved through glass, dropped from a twenty story building, slammed against a wall, twice might i add, and sliced open what feels like a million and one times. i’ll need to recover for a few days before continuing to collect evidence and tracking down the killer.   however, the pain wasn’t for nothing. i finally found a recurring pattern. it’s not much to go off of, but every victim was begging for their life and saying they’ll never do it again. what ‘it’ is, i still don’t know. perhaps this is a beast come to take revenge on a group of people who did something. though, two young adults, two middle-aged people, and an elderly person? something doesn’t add up. what would such a strange group beg for their lives for? what did they promise to never do again? in a few days, i’ll interview the ones who had family members, see if they had any contact with any other of the victims.   my predecessor has finally replied. he didn’t say much, but he said this case was chosen specifically for me; maybe there’s something in this case i’m missing, but so far it seems unsolvable. i’m missing something, and while i need another, i don’t wish for another victim to give me that needed piece to my puzzle. he sent his regards, as well as the newbie. he seems sweet, but maybe too sweet to get into this line of work.   now to make a special brew of restituo and hope i can be up and about before this vampire claims a sixth victim.
  (last name, first name).
  you closed your journal and looked out the window, into the night. you had about eight days until you calculated your vampire striking once again. eight days to solve this puzzle and save a life.
#
  you walked with a slight limp, a crutch under one arm. five days later, not even your restituo serum could heal all the wounds inflicted. there was always a price with magic; and it looked as though the fates were having you ride out your twisted ankle like a mortal to punish you for peering into so many painful last moments. it was to be expected, but you hated the limited mobility.
  it was the thirteenth of march, only a few days left until you suspected the vampire would hunt down another innocent. they knew of one thing in their miserable immortal lives: to hunt down humans and drain them of blood.
  at least, that was what your predecessor had told you. that was the first line in the vampirism textbook you read back in middle school, when he’d first taken you under his wing. that was what you remembered when a vampire had claimed your parents’ lives.
  you huffed to yourself and leaned up against a brick wall, elevating your foot slightly off the ground. 
  maybe that was why your predecessor had given you every vampire case that had filtered into the agency. you’d been hunting them since before you graduated high school; taking revenge on the single vampire that had murdered your kindhearted parents for no reason, by killing everyone you came across.
  an itch crawled across your skin, and you looked up, making eye contact with hard, crimson eyes. they stared at you from across the street, cars passing in between the collision of crimson and (eye color). you stood straight and adjusted your crutch back under your arm. he stared you up and down, only the faintest of smirks stretching across his face.
  a large bus flew down the street, and when it had passed, the man was gone.
  your brow furrowed, and you blinked. there was something familiar about that smirk, those crimson eyes. you pulled out your small notebook and jotted down the description of the man.
  tall. medium build. red eyes. light hair. wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and black boots. handsome.
  you looked back across the street, the itch still there and the healed burns aflame once more. a haunting through crossed your mind, and you thought back to the vampire you’d seen in each final moment.
  that man had to be your vampire.
  #
16 march // tokyo
  if all of my calculations are correct, that bloodsucker's on the hunt once more. there are several districts i've yet to comb through, but i believe i've tracked its next spot in kanda. i've placed several charms throughout the district to alert me when its on the prowl, but i've got a bad feeling about tonight.   i'm going to head down to the station, see if there's been any sightings of the vampire recently, see if i can narrow his location down in the district. if not, i may have to use more magic to track down the son of a bitch, however it may prove daunting. since using the spell to see the final moments of the vampire's victims, i've yet to be able to reach my full capability again. after this is all over, i'll have to recharge myself, take a vacation some place.   it's almost dark and i have to get ready. may the fates help me tonight.
  (last name, first name).
-
  you strolled around the bustling city streets with your hands in your pockets. there was still a slight limp, but you no longer needed the help of crutches to get around. even without magical help, you still healed faster than the average human mortal--perks of being a witch. though, it still hurt to walk on.
  the temperature had dropped considerably since the sun had hidden itself away until the next day; the city lights turning on and illuminating the streets and neon signs coloring the buildings you passed with reds and blues and greens.
  if this had been a different night, one where you weren't hunting down a murderous vampire, you might have found yourself enjoying the quiet walk. you'd have brought the small camera gifted to you and taken a few scenery shots. perhaps you'd find a small ramen shop and people-watched from the window, striking up conversation with the owners. but it wasn't that kind of night. you'd have to return another day to do that.
  an itch you felt a few days before crawled across your skin once more, and you looked up. it was hard to tell in the dark, but you scanned the crowd for any sign of your suspect; tall, blond, most likely in a hoodie and jeans. but you kept walking, the itch never leaving you as you continued in the same direction.
  you moved passed business men and the odd twenty-something year old couples, none shifting their gaze your way, and to those who did, you offered a small smile and continued on with your hunt. you walked by a small ramen shop, one that smelled of fresh pork broth and sizzling chashu. nothing special about it, but there was an itch; one that made your skin feel as though you'd lit yourself aflame.
  you stopped and peered into the shop. nothing out of the ordinary stood out to you, you couldn't even see anyone who somewhat resembled your vampire. you stepped into the shop, maybe there was someone you missed.
  "irasshaimase!" someone called from the kitchen.
  you flashed them a polite smile and scanned the restaurant once again. however, while you hadn't seen the blond you were tracking, you recognized a familiar redhead sat at the bar.
  "kiri-kun?" you called out.
  the redhead looked up and looked at you. "(name)? i didn't know you came here."
  "uh, first time," you said, taking another look around. "actually kind of, well, working right now."
  "oh, nice! you on break?" he asked.
  "not really," you replied, still checking out the patrons of the shop. "uh, have you by chance seen a blond guy, decently tall, red eyes?"
  kirishima hesitated. "uh, n-no? why?"
  you turned to him. "veritatum dicere," your hand made contact with his shoulder, and you watched the blue glow travel across his skin. "i'll ask again, have you seen him?"
  "bakugou, he-he's grabbing his meal, just out back." you let go of his shoulder and watched as kirishima's face fell. "(n-name), it's not what you think."
  you gave him a sympathetic smile. "sorry, kiri-kun, but it's my job. subsisto." and with that, you hurried out the front door and slipped into the alleyway that led to the back of the ramen shop. but just as you hit the back alley, a body crashed into yours.
  a girl, no older than fifteen, stared up at you with frightened eyes. there were fresh bruises lining her uncovered shoulders, shirt torn to smithereens and one shoe missing from her feet. your blood ran cold.
  "are you alright?" you asked, gripping her by the shoulders to steady her. "who did this to you?"
  tears formed at her waterline, and she looked over her shoulder. you followed her gaze into the darkness and nodded.
  "go home, get some rest, file a police report in the morning," you said, looking into her eyes. "you'll be okay."
  she didn't reply; she only nodded and then left the alleyway, stumbling over her feet as she rushed away from the scene. that vampire would pay for his crimes.
  you looked back to the darkness, your jaw set. "fata protegas me." the glow encompassed your body and you stepped further into the alley.
  "let go of me!" a man shouted. "it wasn't what it looked like!"
  you stopped. that... that didn't sound like your vampire.
  "right," a familiar voice scoffed. "i just so fucking happened to come across what looked like a fifty year old pervert fucking raping a fifteen year old girl. now, you can either beg for your life and prolong this shit, or you can keep your shit quiet and die quickly."
  what?
  "wa-wait! don't kill me! i'll do anything!"
  you crept alongside the wall, peaking from the cover of a dumpster.
  there he was; your blond vampire in his hooded jacket. he was holding a rather large man against the wall, while said man struggled against his hold. your eyes widened. wait, what...? did... did the vampire save the human girl?
  the blond sneered at the man. "it's your kind of people that makes me glad i'm no longer fucking human. you're the scum of this shitty earth."
  no, vampires had no humanity. the moment a human's mind changed from mortal to immortal, they lost their moral compass to the fever. it was impossible for a bloodsucker to think like a human. your teachings, your experiences, your cases; you'd never encountered a killer who was able to decipher who was good and who was bad. it was all a gray area, a free for all.
  "no! no, please!" the man pleaded. "i-i'll change!"
  the blond tsked. "no. you won't. maybe you'll be better in another damn life, but this one's over."
  you cringed upon hearing the man's cries and the sound of teeth shredding skin, a faint metallic scent permeating the air. he... that vampire... saved that girl? it couldn't be.
  you stood shakily from behind the dumpster, eyes hesitantly turning to face the vampire. his teeth were embedded into the man's neck, claws deep into his chest as he drank greedily. you stepped out of the shadows, head feeling foggy as you saw the blood.
  the blond noticed you from the corner of his vision and momentarily stopped.
  “i don’t understand,” you muttered. “you had an easy target, hell, two easy targets. and you went for this one?”
  he rolled his eyes. “i don’t kill innocents.”
  “you don’t... what? but-but you’re a bloodsucker,” you argued. “vampires... vampires don’t have the rationality for that.”
  he stepped away from his victim, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe off some of the blood from his chin. “would you rather me a fucking mindless killer? would that make this shit better or something?”
  your eyes widened. “no! no, i... i’m just so confused. you-you’re supposed to be the monster, vampires are always the monsters.”
  his boots echoed as he walked up to you, the crimson seeming even more vibrant than you remembered. “not this time, dumbass. like i said, i don’t kill innocents.”
  you took a step back, nose wrinkling at the stench of human blood coming from his mouth. “but the others? what did they do?”
  “they were damn criminals. extortion, robbery, homicide,” the blond said. “now, if you don’t fucking mind, i was kind of in the middle of something.”
  you looked at his victim, mind spinning slightly as you remembered the final moments you witnessed, the pain you felt time and time again as you suffered firsthand at the hands of the vampire. every bone in your body felt as though it was breaking once more.
  (eye color) met with crimson, glassed over with pain. “i thought you were the worst kind of monster. how you could just end an innocent human life with so much suffering on their part. i was ready to obliterate you the moment i saw you. i thought you were a villain.”
  he scoffed. “well, i fucking ain’t. sorry to burst your damn bubble.”
  “i--”
  “bakugou!” someone shouted. “bakugou! dude, are you okay?!”
  you turned on your heel, surprised to see kirishima running up to you two.
  “i’m fine, shitty hair,” the blond, bakugou, grumbled.
  the redhead slowed in his step as he neared. “i... i thought she was going to kill you, bro.”
  you nodded. “i was, but then i realized he wasn’t who i thought.”
  bakugou scoffed. “you couldn’t kill me even if you tried. you’re a mortal.”
  “i’m a witch, actually,” you replied. “near mortal, but still strong enough to kill you and others like you.”
  kirishima’s eyes widened. “that’s why i told you where he was? why i couldn’t move after you left?”
  “you fucking what?!” bakugou growled at the redhead.
  you placed a hand on bakugou’s shoulder. “caput frigus.” the muscles under your hand relaxed into the blue glow, and bakugou’s glare lessened some. “it wasn’t his fault.”
  the blond grumbled a bit. “fine, whatever. now, if you’ll fucking excuse me, i’ve got something to finish up.” he cast another red-eyed glare your way before stomping to the bloody victim.
  “he’s not as rough if you get to know him,” kirishima said. “he can be kinda nice, when he wants to be.”
  you spared a glance at the vampire, sucking out the last few drops of blood from the victim. “i’m sure. i, uh, i should actually get going. i need to wrap up my case.”
  “are you sure? we could give you a ride?”
  “that won’t be necessary,” you replied. “but thank you.”
-
17 march // tokyo
  it turns out nothing was as it seemed. the vampire, who i thought was the villain the whole time, the monster, he was actually the savior. all those people he killed were actually criminals. still not too sure what the did, but for some reason i believed him, like i had no reason to distrust his judgement. after all, i saw him save a fifteen year old girl today from being raped.   i don’t have much time left in tokyo. all might wants me back home in a few days, which hardly leaves me anytime to explore the city as i wish. but at least i was able to wrap up the case without any innocent lives lost. i’m just thankful i was wrong for once, that a vampire had some decency left in him to target a certain group of people. though, it doesn’t excuse he was still killing human beings, i feel there should be some exception to my code.   that being said, i still need to stay sharp out there. knowing so many human beings could be so monstrous to their own kind, it makes me want to change my profession from supernatural work to entering the human justice system. perhaps be like the vampire anti-hero. bakugou. i wonder if i’ll ever see him again while i’m out hunting.   maybe someday. after all, he was kinda cute, if i do say so myself. however, until then, i still have a job to do.
  (last name, first name).
  you looked out the window, the sun just beginning to set once again. after hunting vampires for so many years, your sleeping habits adjusted to their own nightlife hours. you hadn’t seen a rising sun in quite some time.
  you stood from your desk and stretched for a moment, hearing your bones crack and pop from the movement. you padded your way into the kitchen and pulled out a noodle cup from the cupboard. it wasn’t much, but you very seldom had the time to create an actual dish.
  with the kettle on, you turned towards the living room, oblivious to the crimson eyes watching you from your patio.
  bakugou watched as you moved about your tiny apartment; his eyes were calculating, trained on every little movement you made within the space. it wasn’t long until he noticed the small limp to your left leg, or how if you stretched your arm too far your face scrunched up ever so slightly. and he didn’t miss the faint marks on your neck--the same spot he bit into with every victim, the right side, just below the jawline where it gave him perfect access to the jugular vein.
  he’d heard of witches and wizards with powerful magic, ones who took on the jobs as supernatural hunters in the modern age; hearts set on keeping humanity safe within its modern times. witches were the clean up crew of the supernatural realm. set to keep humanity blind to all they could never understand.
  he’d heard of such powerful magic that witches and wizards could relive the past moments of the dead, though not without sacrifice. he’d witnessed them give their lives just to see the past, unable to come back to their physical selves if the situation was too agonizing. and upon seeing your wounds, bakugou realized you were one of those witches.
  hesitant, but only for just a moment, he knocked on the glass door, hiding in the shadows.
  your brow furrowed upon hearing the knock. was there someone on your patio? had all might sent for someone to grab you already? was deku there to take you back home?
  you peeled back the curtain, jumping when you noticed crimson eyes staring back at you, and you slid open the door.
  “what the hell are you doing on my patio, bloodsucker?!” you hissed, mostly from the fear of finding the blond rather than someone from your home.
  his eyes narrowed. “oi, i’m the only one giving out fucking nicknames, shitty witch.”
  you glared. “i’ll ask again, what are you even doing here?”
  “that’s none of your damn business,” he replied.
  “so you just thought it would be fun to scare the shit out of me?” you asked. “how kind of you, bakugou.”
  he scoffed but was interrupted by the screaming kettle before he could reply.
  you hurried back inside and poured the boiling water into the cup, carefully setting the hot kettle back onto the stove. when you turned around, bakugou was glaring at the noodles from the entryway of your patio.
  “what? did you want one or something?” you asked, eyeing him eyeing your cup.
  he glared. “as fucking if. that shit’s disgusting.”
  “it’s all i’ve got,” you shrugged. “i can’t cook, and i don’t have money to go out and buy dinner every night.”
  “you can track down shitty vampires day in and day out and learn and memorize advanced spells and shit, but you can’t fucking cook?” the blond asked, skeptical. “fuck it. i’m gonna have to teach you then.”
  you laughed. “not too sure how you’re gonna do that in two days.”
  he looked at you. “you’re leaving tokyo?”
  “well yeah, case solved. i get to go home and begin another one,” you replied. “i travel all over japan to solve supernatural crimes, it’s my job, and while tokyo has some pretty bad ones, my predecessor is who choses them for us.”
  “oh.”
  you looked over at the blond. “i’ll probably be back someday though, maybe even this year. you could teach me then?”
  “as long as you don’t come back to kill me.”
  you laughed aloud. “then it’s official then. i come back, you teach me how to cook. deal?”
  “fucking deal,” the vampire replied.
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ffxivimagines · 4 years
Text
Commission 005 | campy
Commissioned by @mathclasswarfare ! Thank you for your patience and cheer! 
Noctis Lucis Caelum is having a no-good, horrible, terrible, very bad day. Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but the Regalia breaking down in the middle of gods-know-where combined with no cell reception that he could use to call Cindy for a tow feels abysmal. The sun is intense, making the back of his neck itch with the force of it, but it’s no worse than the height of Leiden summer. If there is any time worthy of regretting his birthright and the color that comes with it, it’s now. Even the dash of the Regalia grants him no respite once it heats enough to rival one of Ignis’s carbonsteel pans. 
Noctis would quite like to go home now, please and thank you, even if home is a moderately stinky sleeping bag shoved up against the back of a tent. 
He stands next to the Regalia and waits for someone to come down the road. When that fails, he starts pushing. The irony is not lost on him, but neither is his growing dehydration. There are only so many water bottles left in his Armiger and even fewer snacks (no thanks to Gladiolus’s appetite). He has time before he begins to truly overheat, but not a lot of it. 
The first person that passes is very much in a rush, charging past on a particularly fleetfooted chocobo, and Noctis has nearly no time to wave and attempt to flag them down for help. They pass in a blur of yellow and brown without giving him so much as a glance. Right, onto the next. He waits, inching the car along toward where can make out the vague outline of a building, and wonders if it would be a better investment to walk there first and ask for help. 
He waits and sweats in equal measure until there is a very clearly child-sized being charging toward him alongside the smallest chocobo Noctis has ever seen. “Do y’need some help there, lad?”
He has to stop for a long moment, squinting and blinking with his face scrunched up like the foreign being was some sort of hallucination. They’re not quite a child, Noctis notices, as if their tone of voice and way of speaking wasn’t proof enough, but he still grasps at nothing for a name. The closest thing he can think of is gremlin, but that’s a non-starter and rude besides. He settles for asking, “Wha─who are you?”
“Sabiha Humi, at y’r service,” they reply with a smile curving their words. “What’re y’ pushing?” They take a long look at the Regalia as if it’s some strange, likely dangerous deathtrap. It’s not the covetous appreciation he’s used to from Cindy whenever he brings the car in for maintenance, nor the casual-yet-respectful way Prompto always eyes it (he had freaked out after the Regalia had been dented by an Iron Giant’s sword, murmuring rapidfire apologies to Regis as if Noctis’s father would skin him alive for prioritizing his own life over the wellbeing of the car). Noctis is not sure what to make of it. 
“I’m Noct and this is a car,” he says, feeling mightily stupid for phrasing it so rudely. He assumes they don’t know what in the Astrals’ seven circles of hell a car is, but he fears for his shins if they do. To his benefit, Sabiha just nods. 
“I’ll call Cid, then.”
“Uh… Cid Sophiar?”
They shake their head and smile patiently, correcting him with a casual, “Garlond, actually. There a Cid where y’r from?”
Noctis huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah. He’s old and doesn’t like me much.”
Sabiha giggles and reaches up to pat him on the hip. “Let me call via linkpearl an’ he’ll be here within a bell.”
Noctis sits down in the shade of the Regalia to wait it out and wonders what on Eos’s great surface a linkpearl is. 
Noctis finds that he likes this place’s (world’s?) Cid a lot better than his own. The Garlond Ironworks folk are intimidating when they grill him for part specifications and schematics he does not have, but are nice enough when not consumed by technophilia. Noctis really, sincerely hopes Prompto hasn’t left any empty chip bags in the glove box again when Cid suggests a cleaning and some attempts at maintenance. Sabiha tugs him away to wander when he keeps fidgeting and flicking things in and out of the Armiger with the very real excuse of finding him a way home. 
“So y’r not from around here at all.”
“Yeah, about that,” he starts before something in his aether jumps, pulling taut at the vague sound of MagiTek weaponry echoing across the hills. “Nevermind. We have bigger fish to fry.”
Sabiha hops onto chocoback and follows along, chattering to ease his nerves as they search for the cause of his intrinsic anxiety. “─so y’see, I’m here talkin ‘bout how infuriatin’ it is to have some o’those midlander folk talk t’ me like I’m some sort o’child and then, to add insult t’ injury, they ask why a little gal like me is runnin’ about alone! I’m a grown woman, thank y’ very much! Even Gurney knows better!”
Noctis nods along as they traverse the dry brush, tossing in a comment here and there to make sure Sabiha knows he’s listening. Her easy way of speaking reminds him of Prompto─they have a lot in common, the more he thinks about it, if you ignore the obvious difference in physical form─and Noctis misses him acutely. He wants to get back home, to Eos, to his friends, to the destiny he is eternally tempted to ignore. 
He spots a MAX-Maniple clunking along and signals to Sabiha to wait.  He sets his nerves in steel, summons a blade in a flash of blue-white magic, and watches her do much the same. They lay waste to the familiarly damning machine with ease and Noctis hopes it is the last of the ones that followed him. 
They face other creatures over the course of their journey to find him a way home. The Regalia is repaired quickly enough, but Noctis hisses curses when Iseultalon all but shaves multiple years off his life with a few too many close misses. He keeps falling back on familiar patterns, calling for people that aren’t there to back him up, but Sabiha hurls magic into his bones all the same. Her arrows fly true and it becomes a familiar comfort to hear riffs amid the ringing of steel as she suffuses their surroundings with aether. 
Camp is much the same. The first new nights are rough when he pulls a can of Ebony from the Armiger and has to fight to dismiss it instead of putting it on a cooktop that isn’t even set up. Sabiha asks him about his companions, pressing for details about Prompto when he admits they have a lot in common. It’s like something just unlocks─Noctis can’t quite shut up about it once he starts, and Sabiha sits and listens with rapt attention to every one of their adventures spanning from before the Fall to their most recent attempt at completing their Imperial Destruction Plan™ (named as such by Prompto, of course, and agreed upon by Ignis)─where he can talk about his troubles and how much he truly is grateful to Prompto for reaching out and being his friend without having to worry about anyone looking at him strangely. 
“You’re a strong lad,” Sabiha tells him, “an’ I’m quite sure y’r friends are waitin’ for ya to come back n’ tell ‘em all about this. What’s the thing Prompto does? That “selfie” thing.”
“Want to take one? He’d like that.”
They wander through Gridania for a while, Noctis looking for a place he can fish same as take a decent enough photo, and they settle down for the afternoon. It’s a wonderful break from the usual adventuring-to-kill gig they both have going on. Having to kill Garuda (again. Of course it would be a murderous wind bird again) interrupts their relaxation and grants Noctis the way home he so dearly needs. 
Noctis forgets that Sabiha is terrible at warping. She chips away at Garuda arrow by arrow, but most are knocked aside by gusts rather than hitting their mark. He yells over the storm every so often, but it’s a trial in futility when his voice is stolen away time and time again. They manage a few synchronized attacks, but not nearly enough, By the time they make it out of the fight, Noctis has smashed more than a few potions over his head and chest in desperation. Sabiha glares balefully for all the broken arrows littering the ground. 
“I hate this fight.”
Noctis grimaces. “Do it often?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
They stare at the not-quite-Garuda with matching expressions, Sabiha not quite off guard yet while Noctis flicks his sword back into the Armiger. They listen while the primal speaks in a familiarly grating tongue as if its acceptance and blessing is all they’d need want. 
“You have proven your might, Chosen King. At the world’s peril do we grant our might to the untested. I bequeath to you and your companion both my blessing.”
They share a look of absolute exasperation before Noctis remarks, “Divinities… one second they’re trying to kill you and the next they’re helping you. I’ll never understand them.”
Sabiha nods and pats his hand in solidarity. “Time f’r you t’ get going back, it seems.”
“Yeah,” Noctis agrees. “Thanks, Sabiha, for everything.”
She grins when he gets into the Regalia and flashes a thumbs up. “Be safe! Don’t f’rget t’show Prompto those pictures!”
And Noctis drives into the portal, lead home by the Oracle of his world, leaving Sabiha with the pulse of new-old aether still thrumming in her ears. She tests the bright blue sensation of it and pulls a note from the Armiger on accident. 
Hey, Noct! Wherever you are, come back soon, okay? Iggy is drinking enough Ebony even Gladio is getting concerned!
I hope you’re safe. 
Come back soon, Noct. Please. 
Prompto 
P.s. don’t forget to take pictures if it’s someplace cool!!
Sabiha presses it back where it came from and smiles.
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officialleehadan · 5 years
Text
Prophesy Burning
“Dad?”
Cora swore and shoved Callen, ice-armor and all, out of the way as the few remaining men in the room opened fire. 
If that was indeed Breton Tor, he was decidedly interested in killing his own son, or he figured on Callen being fast enough to get out of the way before he got shot.
Callen, for his part, stood stunned, eyes wide with horror and not a little fear.
There wasn’t much that scared him, but Cora had shared his bed. She had woken more than once to the sound of Rao soothing him back to sleep after a nightmare, in which his father was almost always featured.
Magic crackled across her skin and fizzed against her own null-magic. Most other things weren’t half so immune, and sparks flew as Callen’s raw power blasted through the smaller charms that littered the room, and the dead soldiers’ equipment.
When a mage of Callen’s caliber lost control, destruction followed.
“Look out!” Rao yelled to Cora, and she took refuge behind his large-and-flaming demonic body. He braced himself, but even so, he slid when wind exploded through the room. Everything not nailed down, and some that was, lifted off the ground and began to spin. Callen, ignoring the storm that was brewing around him, squared off against his father, eyes hard with fury.
Fury was good. Fury meant he was rallying to the shock, and bracing for a fight.
Breton Tor was a big man. Not as tall as Rao, but most humans weren’t, he stood well over six feet tall and had the muscle of someone who spent an unhealthy amount of time in the prison system, making good use of their equipment. He shared his steel-blue eyes and dark hair with Callen, but otherwise seemed to have given little in the way of looks to his son. 
“I’ve been looking for you, boy,” he said as he advanced on them. Callen snarled wordlessly and gestured once. The storm of magic abruptly froze in place, a cloud of dagger-sharp broken glass suspended, ready to shoot forward at his command.
Cora really hoped Callen wasn’t about to murder his father, but this was a vital development of a caste that started with Breton Tor’s murder. She pulled out her phone and started recording around Rao’s side. Her superiors needed to see the man they thought was dead, walking and breathing. 
“Whoever murdered you didn’t do a very good job,” Callen was saying. Breton, who knew a threat when he saw one, stilled. The vicious edge in his eyes didn’t fade, but Callen was going to kill him if he got any closer, father or no. “I saw the pictures. I got one framed. It makes me smile whenever I see you lying dead on the ground. How did you pull it off?”
Oh, her clever boyfriend. He knew she was recording, and he was getting his sire to spill before he caught on. 
Or he was stalling until he got the right opportunity to deal with the man himself. Considering that Breton had just tried to kill them, Callen could make a pretty good case for self-defense at this point. 
“Amazing what you can do with the right spells.”
“I saw your body. Not a trace of magic on it.”
“Oh, by the time we beat that poor bastard to death, the magic was done,” Breton told him, too smug to be at the disadvantage he seemed. His men were dead, and Callen was itching to kill him. There had to be something more at play. “Permanent shift and all. Nice way to dispose of a traitor. I’ll have to remember it.”
“You’re not gonna remember anything,” Rao rumbled as he stepped forward, eleven feet tall, with more in horns on top of that. Cora couldn’t see his face, but she knew what he looked like in full-demon form. “I’m gonna break your back an’ Cal’s gonna cut runes into you until you’re not useful anymore. Then I’m gonna kick your soul into Hell where it belongs.”
“Very intimidating,” Breton told him with an appraising once-over. “Not bad at all. But poor Lisette will have a bad time of it if I don’t check in within the next, oh, four minutes.”
Cora was just fast enough to grab Callen as he went to lunge forward, blind with rage. A blast of her own magic canceled out his, and the glass shattered on the floor. Her camera, still recording, stayed fixed on Breton, although he could see it now and fixed her with a sharp, calculating stare. 
“You’re new,” he said appraisingly, and eyed his son. “You get a floozie?”
“Call me a floozie one more time and I’ll toss you in the deepest, darkest pit I can find,” Cora told him levelly. “You would do yourself a lot of favors if you told us where Lisette Tor is, right now.”
“I don’t know,” Breton told her innocently. “She was kidnapped from that nice French chalet. I just want my beloved son’s help in finding her.”
This time it took Rao to hold Callen back as his pact-mate spat curses that would turn a weaker man into a quivering puddle. 
“What do you want?” he snarled as Rao locked an arm around his shoulders so he couldn’t get to murdering his own father properly. “If there is so much as a scratch on my sister when I get her back, I am going to peel you like a grape and stake you in the sun somewhere you’ll die slow, so you had better get to talking.”
“Three minutes,” Breton told him with a fake yawn of boredom as he looked at his expensive watch. “You still have the same phone number, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll text you. Oh and boy, you sell me out to the badges and I won’t be responsible for what happens to your sweet little sister.”
With a cocky half-wave, he headed for the door, confident as only a man with a winning hand of cards could be. When he was gone, Callen flung his hands out, and a shockwave of pure destruction followed in a pulse of ice-white magic.
“I can’t refuse,” he said tightly, without looking at either of them. His phone chimed in his pocket, and he didn’t look at that either. “So you had better find her before he figures out I’m playing for time, or the next Tor body you find will be mine.”
“We’ll find her,” Cora promised. She sent the video to her superiors on the case, and then wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her tightly, tense as a wire. “Does he know you and Rao can share thoughts?”
“No,” Rao said, still as a statue and still watching the door. “But he knows I can track her, and he’s not gonna give me the chance if he can help it.”
“I’ll buy you as much time as I can,” Callen told them both, hard-edged hope hidden under the fury in his eyes. “But find her fast. He’s never been a patient man. She’s the only leverage he has on me, and he won’t hesitate to hurt her if he thinks I’m not moving fast enough.”
“We’ll find her,” Rao promised, hellfire wreathing around his arms. “And Cal, when we do…”
“As soon as my sister is safe,” Callen said, and snapped his fingers, summoning his magic back into his hands, “I’m going to make sure he can’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.”
Cora looked between them, and felt the hand of fate resting on her shoulder, tight and unshakable as the prophesy burned in her mind.
The Fire and the Soul were walking into danger, and it would be her Nothing Magic to defend them. 
Her loyalty was set in stone. There was only one thing left to do.
“Where do we start?”
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Cora still hasn’t decided whether or not to shoot them both and blame it on whoever happens to be handy.
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niyascribes · 5 years
Text
darling street
summary: When Bucky has an anxiety attack at a party he finds refuge in the roommate of the host party. 
information: A spy academy/college AU WOC
a/n: this is my first story on here so tell me how i did.
-materlist| part one/ part two
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I knew Olivia was hosting the back to campus party, I could have gone out, been anywhere but here but it didn’t work out as I planned. I was curled up with my smokey gray Persian cat, Rajah watching an episode of Loiter Squad. I can’t keep focus with the trap music blaring through the speakers. I let out a sigh picking up Rajah off my lap and bringing her eye level to me.
“Why can’t they just go home?” I ask while Rajah keeps his resting bitch face present giving me what looks like a little shrug. I am amused by the cat's response “That is why I love you.” I say placing a kiss on the top of his furry head. I walk to the attached bathroom and look at the mop I call hair. I pull on the wavy dry curl I sigh left my lips as the dull curl bounces back into its original place. 
I feel like the night is going to move slow. I need a better distraction than a TV show. I grab my phone and check the time reading 11:13. I know the party is going to last way past 1 in the morning I do a double take at my clean tub and an idea creeps its way into my mind. I grab three red candles from my candle drawer and place them around the tub. I fill up the tub with steaming hot water and pour the scented body wash in the water so bubbles could form. I light the candles before getting my laptop and my wireless headphones and go to Netflix to find the only movie you could possibly watch in the tub. Moana. The movie is about water and  I’m in the bath, what a perfect combination.
I strip from all my clothing and put my hair up in a super messy bun. I dip my big toe in to test the water. I submerge myself into the steaming water. I let out a relaxing sigh as the bubbles start to form around my body. I start the movie bringing my knees up to my chest and moving closer to the small screen. By the end of the movie, bubbles have turned into cliques of suds. My rubber band finally gave up and my hair cascaded down my back, the bottom of my hair is wet. I yawn as the credits slide down my screen and Alessia Cara sings ‘How Far I’ll Go’. I shut my computer and carefully step out the tub and put on my PINK black and white fluffy robe. I drain the tub and move my computer back into my room. Since my hair is already wet I decide to wash it. I grab my shower caddy that only holds my hair products. I hold my head under the faucet of the bath and wet my long hair. I wash my hair, put a mask on it and wash it out before, applying my leave-in conditioner. I blow dry my hair making sure to scrunch it as I go. I dreaded the task but my scalp felt good and my hair looked good. After applying many different oils to my hair I put it up back in a bun. 
I finally walk out of my bathroom and I can tell the party is still in full effect. I check the time which reads 1:24. I’m proud I distracted myself for two hours. I slide on underwear and my light blue unicorn covered sleep shorts and a grey tank-top leaving a bra out of the picture. I turn on an episode of ‘The Joy Of Painting’ to listen to the smooth voice of Bob Ross explain how to paint happy trees and bubbly water, eventually puts me to sleep. ________ I’m startled awake by my door flying open and a body tumbling on the floor his breathing is erratic. He’s having a panic attack. I scurried off my bed and fall to his side. 
“Hey, hey, hey I need you to breathe match your breathing with mine,” I say as I place his hand on my heart and start slow rhythmic breathing. His breathing slows down and his eyes open revealing his bluish/grayish eyes. “Are you alright?” I ask but his eyes just flutter close. I panic quickly placing my middle and index finger on his neck making sure a pulse was present. I was relieved when I felt a strong and healthy pulse.
The music downstairs is still present and Olivia didn’t wake me and annoy me about cleaning so the party must be alive and kicking, but why is he up here in my room at that. I close my room door once again, before stepping over the man to get to my bathroom. I run a clean washcloth under cool water and ring it out before folding it. I walk back to the broad man kneeling beside him placing the rag on his warm forehead.
“Poor baby,” I say pushing chestnut colored hair that is stuck to his forehead because of his sweating and the dampness of the towel. I leave the towel on his head and grabbed one of my many pillows that crowd my bed and place it under his head, seeing that he’s knocked out cold and wouldn’t be up till morning I lay my black blanket over him. I look at the man once more in sorrow, dealing with anxiety panic attacks were the worst, I know from experience. While I was staring I finally take in his features. A sharp jaw-line which stubble sat upon. Even with his eyes closed, he looked handsome. I decided to stop staring at the man and get in bed.
My sleep was light and worrisome. I was afraid the man on the floor would wake up and of course, I am awake before he is. The sun creeps through my blinds making the man's face glisten from the thin sheet of sweat on his face. I take the now dry towel off his forehead and wipe the access sweat off his face. His eyelids start to twitch while I’m running the towel around his cheeks. His eyes open softly and he stares at me.
“Are you wearing unicorn sleep shorts?” He asks his deep gruff voice asks squinting at my attire. I am taken aback by his question. “Really? Not even a ‘thank you’. I could have let you sit here and have a panic attack last night, or even put you out my room.” I say in an angry tone mostly out of worry. 
“Sorry for offending you doll, thank you for all you’ve done but I really need to get goin’.” He says in a sarcastic tone, which bruises my giving pride. “Fine, at least let me give you some Tylenol before you go,” I say knowing his head has to hurts from the panic attack then quickly going to sleep. His eyes go soft as he sees me give-in to his attitude he sighs before speaking. “Fine, doll get it quick and meet me by the door because I am serious about leaving.” He says pushing the blanket off of him pushing himself off the ground. He’s speaking in a slightly demanding tone but it has a hint of softness and I wonder how he makes his voice so demanding but soft. 
I smile toothlessly causing the man to smirk. I walk into my bathroom and open my deep drawer and I scramble through the pill cases to grab the medium-sized Tylenol bottle. I walk out of the bathroom to find him gone and my room door open. I skip down the stairs listening to the pills shake in there container. I see the man searching around my living room. “Looking for something?” I asked walking into the kitchen. He opens the door to the coat closet before answering me. “Yeah, an uh black leather jacket.” he sighs out giving up on his search coming into the kitchen. 
“Sorry, I haven’t seen it. Half of the reason because I don’t know where Olivia put the jackets last night.” I say pulling down an IKEA cup from the cabinet and filling up with water. I rip a napkin off the roll shake two pills out the bottle knowing the large man would need more than 200 mg. 
He quickly downs the pills drinking the water quickly after. “You’re way different than Olivia described.” 
My eyebrows tighten together and I cross my arms against my chest “What has she said about me?” 
He looks at me with a smirk “All good things.” He says sarcastically. This causes me to roll my eyes knowing she said some bullshit. “Thanks for the meds.” The man said walking away from the kitchen, and even before she could say ‘Your Welcome’ the door had already opened and closed signaling that he was gone. 
I walk up to the door locking it knowing he couldn’t if he had left. I turn around my back to the door and look at the mess that was made.
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aprettystrangeblog · 6 years
Text
Grounding
A self-indulgent comfort fic.
Word Count: ~2150
Tags/Warnings: #panic attack, #anxiety, #intense kinda dissociation or whatever you wanna call this, #generally triggering themes
--------------------
He couldn’t see.
He couldn’t breathe.
And he couldn’t hear anything except a, a... a horrible wailing ringing in his ears and a voice and some far-off noise that vaguely sounded like terrified sobbing.
Was that him? Was he crying?
Somewhere in the nightmarish sea of black he registered that his face was streaming with tears, but his face didn’t feel like his own as he reached up to rub at his cheeks. Was his mouth producing that awful wailing sob? He wished it would stop. Why couldn’t he stop.
The room was swimming around him. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to stop him from flying away into the void; the world was spinning too fast and everything was blurry and he desperately clung to the arms of the chair he was slumped on the floor next to. Let the world try to drag him away.
No, let me go. Let it end.
What was real? Am I real? I’m dying, no, I’m living, no-- I’m a star and I’m going to explode into trillions of specks of dust--
His heart was leaping out of his chest. Any second it was going to burst through his ribs and shatter his fragile body. Any second now his vision would fade away fully. Any second now this would be over. Any second now, any second. Let me die let me die let me DIE ALREADY--
“Tony…”
A voice reached through the sea.
“Tony!”
His vision swam before him, the floor beneath him still spinning. In a moment of absurdity, he noticed for the first time how very, very blue the carpets in this room were. Beautiful.
“Tony, you’re panicking. Tony, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. This is just a panic attack, nothing more.”
Tony gasped, eyes seeing nothing, seeing everything, seeing horrors and memories and things no one should ever have to see or relive or live through at all--
“No.. n-n-no sh… sh-h-h-it…” he sobbed, gulping down a mouthful of salty tears and only managing to succeed in choking on them. How poetic, he managed to think to himself.
“Tony. I need you to concentrate on my voice, okay? It’s me. It’s just me, Stephen. Listen to my voice, okay?”
Stephen’s face swam into focus in front of him, and Tony met his eyes, suddenly mesmerized by the perfect oceanic color of them. He let himself drown in those eyes, allowed himself to be lost in that sea of compassion and worry. So much better than the black sea of panic. Aqua, aqua… Stephen.
“Good. Focus on me. There you go.”
Stephen’s voice was steady, calm. It tethered him to reality like a rope, light a ray of light cast from the heavens on a dying man.
“I’m... must, be dying,” Tony gasped, his entire body shaking. Maybe it wasn’t the room spinning after all.
“You’re not dying. You’re not in any danger. You’re here with me in the living room, and you’re safe.” Stephen’s voice washed over him like the clean sheets back on his bed he loved to snuggle down in. Keep talking, Stephen, hold me here, keep me real!
“Nothing is going to hurt you, Tony. You’re alright. This is just a panic attack. It will pass.”
“Scared-- world, end, my heart-- Stephen, saw you,” Sob. “Saw you, dying, and, me, I’m, I’m, mm-”
“Shhh,” Stephen murmured, and Tony’s eyelids fluttered, vaguely registering how Stephen was gripping his shoulders to steady him.
“Okay. Keep listening to my voice. We’re going to take some deep breaths now, alright? Stay with me Tony. Ready? Breathe in, slowly.”
Tony sucked in a breath and immediately choked on it, coughing furiously as tears flew everywhere. Stephen’s strong arms wrapped around his body, keeping him from falling forwards.
“It’s okay. Let’s try again. This time, breathe in through your nose. Slowly, on my count. One, two, three-- breathe in.”
Tony slowly breathed in, trembling, his forehead finding a spot on Stephen’s shoulder to rest.
“Good. Keep breathing in. Four, five, six, seven, eight. You’re doing great, Tony. Okay, hold in that breath for a moment.”
Tony held it. The room had ceased spinning, but his own shaking was making him dizzier by the second. His head swam as he nuzzled into Stephen’s neck, trying to steady himself, trying to hold on.
“Now breathe out through your mouth. One, two, three, four-- that’s it, let it out-- five, six, seven, eight.”
Tony let out the air he’d been holding, a massive tremor running through his body. Stephen’s hand was rubbing his back soothingly, and Tony imagined it was rubbing away the shaking, the tremors, the terror.
“Keep breathing in time with me, okay? That’s all you need to do right now. Hold onto me and breathe.”
Tony did as instructed. He could feel Stephen’s steady heartbeat through his shirt, pulsing along in time with his breaths. Keep breathing. Just breathe.
“Breathe in… breathe out.”
In, out.
“Focus on the air you take into your lungs.”
Said air was musty, but it was air, and it smelled like tea and Stephen and life. He wasn’t dying. He was living.
“Picture the air you’re breathing. Focus on it, down to the last molecule of oxygen. Concentrate on it as you take it in through your nose.”
Tony’s eyebrows knitted together, the stubborn part of his brain vaguely registering how ridiculous this was. But his heartbeat was slowing, and he was breathing, and he was going to be okay.
“That air’s traveling to your lungs now, off to be absorbed into your cells, to be carried to every corner of your body. To keep you living, to give you life and oxygen and hope.”
Tony kept breathing, kept listening. He was alive.
“Your body is incredibly, Tony. You’re a miracle of the stars and the universe! You’re a force of nature and a product of millions of years of chance and fate and luck. And here you are, breathing in the same air as me, sitting here in the living room, seeing, hearing, living. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out.”
Tony’s body shuttered again, and suddenly he felt very limp. He gulped back the last of the tears and slumped against Stephen, feeling relieved when he felt the pair of strong arms wrap around him again, holding him up.
“There you go, relax, it’s okay to go limp. Panic attacks are exhausting. Let yourself be still, sweetheart. Just breathe, and recover. I’m here. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. You’re in the present and everything’s alright now.”
Breathe. In, out. A wave of calm washed over him as Stephen rubbed his back again, one steady hand supporting his neck. Tony concentrated on the feeling of Stephen’s fingers, imagining them leaving trails of light and love and peace across his body. It was an oddly comforting picture, and he let out a small relieved whimper as his shoulders drooped.
Stephen’s lips pressed to the side of Tony’s head, gentle, loving. Stephen was holding him and he was here, he was safe. It was okay. A few moments passed, and finally the room was in focus again, and things felt real and solid.
“Do you think you can talk? Do you need a little while longer to calm down?” the sorcerer asked gently.
“I, I… can talk,” Tony croaked out in a whisper, throat aching from sobbing.
“Okay. You don’t have to respond to me, but keep listening to my voice, okay?”
Tony nodded, slumping tiredly into Stephen’s arms. It was almost too much effort to simply do that.
“Alright. I need you to open your eyes, if you have them closed. Give yourself a moment.” Stephen paused to adjust himself, helping Tony to sit up a little. “Now, look around. List off five things that you can see. Describe them, if you’d like. What’s around you?”
“You,” Tony breathed, and a ghost of a smile haunted his face as he could feel Stephen’s shoulders shake with a chuckle. “You… your, your robes. They’re a dusty shade of blue today. Your cloak is p-p-pooled around you on the floor.”
“Good. What else?”
“The… window. It’s afternoon. There’s sun streaming in through it. There’s a patch of light on the floor. It’s… beautiful.”
“Mhm, it sure is.”
“And there’s… you dropped your ring there, on the carpet, a few feet away. I never noticed how it sparkles in the sun. The engravings on it are… so detailed, I hadn’t paid enough attention to it before…”
“One more thing?”
“Uhh… the… the chair. I was sitting on it earlier. It’s that old leather one you read in at night. I curl up in it when I feel anxious, because it reminds me of you, and it smells like the books you drag in from the sanctum’s library.”
Stephen smiled softly, giving Tony a pat. “Good. Concentrate on your surroundings. You’re here. You’re real.” He took another breath in time with Tony’s. “When you’re ready, I want you to focus on sounds now. Tell me some things you can hear.”
Tony paused, gulping down another breath of air.
“The clock?” he mumbled. “The grandfather clock in the corner. It chimes on the hour. It’s behind right now. The ticks sound off.” He closed his eyes, searching instead with his other senses. “I can hear… I can hear us breathing in tandem. That’s, really comforting, when that happens. I can hear your heartbeat. It’s slower than mine, but mine’s, mine’s getting slower.”
“It is. That’s proof you’re calming down. You’re doing great, keep it up!”
Tony nodded, his eyes still closed. In, out.
“I can hear the breeze outside, and your papers on the table rustling. There’s a car horn outside, and someone in a couple rooms over is listening to music, right?”
Stephen chuckled again. “We’ll tell them to turn it down later.”
That earned a croaky laugh from the shorter man, and the sorcerer only hugged him tighter.
“Okay. What can you feel? What are you touching right now? Describe it.”
Tony rubbed his cheek against Stephen’s shoulder, frowning in concentration.
“Your robes. They’re worn out linen. A little rough, but still soft to the touch.” He reached out, brushing against the floor. “...the carpet. It’s the plush kind. Really soft. There’s always bits of torn up paper on it.”
“You do have a habit of tearing up things.” Another croaky chuckle from Tony. “Okay. Last thing. Can you tell me anything you smell? Taste?”
“Salt. There’s tears down my face,” Tony mumbled, reaching up to wipe them away. “Um… I can smell books on your robes, and dust, and amber and pine.” He lifted his head up, eyes bleary but clear. He searched for Stephen’s lips, finding them after a moment with his own, pressing their mouths together for just a moment.
“...and you taste like tea…” he whispered, pulling back just enough to talk again.
Stephen smiled, wrapping his arms underneath Tony. “Alright, alright. That’s enough, silly. Time enough later for kissing-- just rest now, okay? I’m going to help you up, we’ll go sit on the couch. You can have my mug of tea.”
Tony nodded wearily, holding his arms out to Stephen. The sorcerer helped him to stand on his feet, Tony’s legs wobbling dangerously beneath him; thankfully the couch was only a few steps away, and he eagerly slumped down onto it as soon as Stephen allowed him to.
The warmth of his arms left him for a few moments as Stephen stooped over to fetch his mug of tea from the table, and then he was back to gently press it into Tony’s hands.
“Drink some fluids and sit back,” he instructed gently, settling himself down on the couch next to him. When Tony’s hands were gripping the mug, and the tea was in no danger of spilling, the sorcerer held out his hand and make a short whistling noise. The Cloak sprung up from off the floor and floated up behind them, gently settling around Tony’s shoulders and draping into his lap, making sure to keep its touch gentle and non-threatening.
Tony smiled-- actually, genuinely smiled. And then suddenly he was exhausted and tired and all the life seemed to have gone out of him again, but he was here. He was safe. And Stephen’s arms were around him again, and there was nothing to fear, nothing to be frightened of. He wasn’t going to die or crumble apart into the wind. Not today, not now, not ever.
“Get some rest, if you feel comfortable,” Stephen murmured into Tony’s hair, supporting the man slumped sleepily against him. “I promise that no nightmares will come to you. I swear it. Sleep,” he encouraged softly, stroking a hand over Tony’s shoulders rhythmically, back and forth and back and forth. Rocking him gently in his arms.
And before he knew it, Tony was asleep.
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cookieswriting · 6 years
Text
Mistaken (9-1-1, Abby x Buck)
((Set after Abby returns from Ireland, short multichapter fic))
“Thanks, ladies! I’m sure I’ll be back same time tomorrow!”  Buck waved with his free hand to the baristas as he nudged the door open with his hip, charming smile on his face.  The three women behind the counter waved back as he turned.
“See ya Buckley! Tell the crew we say hey.”
The blonde fireman kept the tray of coffees balanced in one hand as he lowered his sunglasses onto his nose.  Warmth seeped into his skin, the sun soaking into his dark uniform and making him grateful for the clear skies.  While staying tucked away in Abby’s apartment to get reacquainted after nearly three months with half a world between them (followed by two weeks of opposing schedules until Abby could finally get back into her routine at work) as rain pummeled the window was lovely, Buck was looking forward to taking her out for a day on the lake.
He was jarred from his thoughts when a solid form crashed into him from the side, flipping the coffee out of his grasp and sending him sprawling into an alley.  Before he could regain his bearings, weight settled onto his hips and sharp, burning agony stole his breath away.  “Gimme your gun, pig,” a low voice growled in his ear.  Buck groaned, the fog of pain slowing his thoughts and in turn his response.  “Now!”  Trembling hands scrabbled with the gray sleeve at his attacker’s wrist, and the firefighter couldn’t suppress the yelp when the knife was yanked back out.  The pressure on his hips disappeared, and his radio was yanked from his shoulder.  From there, the man’s free hand searched his pockets, easily finding his cell phone and wallet. Dammit.
“D-Don’t have...a gun...not a...cop…”
The second time the blade cut into his abdomen, he managed to stifle any noise.  “That badge and your pretty blue uniform look an awful lot like you a cop.”  Wild brown eyes searched for any source of threat, and pained blue eyes fought to catalogue the man’s visible features
“F-firefighter,” Buck breathed, pain pulsing in time with his heart.  A shadow fell across his face as his attacker leaned over to get a better look at the badge on his chest, and the man cursed.
Evan Buckley barely had time to register the white and blue sneaker swinging for his head before it connected with his temple and darkness crashed over his consciousness.
“There’s a cop down in an alley, it looks like he was shot or stabbed in the side...he’s unconscious.”  Awareness returned to Buck in the form of sharp pain and something shaking him.  Memories of the attack that took him out of commission surfaced, and he would have lashed out defensively if not for the gentle grip on his wrist.  “Easy, man...easy.  I’m here to help, I’m on with 9-1-1.  Just lay still, I think you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“9-1-1?” As though the reference to dispatch flipped a switch in his brain, adrenaline seemed to flood his system.  Buck looked up to the guy leaning over him and reached for the phone.  “Can I?”
“A-are you sure you’re up for it, man? You don’t look so good.”  Buck nodded tiredly, so the man relented, switching on the speakerphone and setting it on the ground beside Buck’s head. “Here, go ahead…” The fireman winced when the man started unbuttoning his blouse.  
“Has the officer regained consciousness?” Relief flooded Buck at the familiar voice, and he sagged back against the ground. One step eliminated, which was good since he wasn’t sure how long the adrenaline would hold up. “Mr. Adams are you still there?”  
“What’s up...with everyone calling me a cop today?”
Buck could picture the stunned face of his girlfriend as she processed what was going on.  “Buck? Please tell me you stumbled across the scene and are not my victim...”
“Abbs, I need you to send out an APB-” An involuntary hiss escaped him when his undershirt was carefully pulled up and away from his wounds.
“I need you to tell me what happened and where you are.” He hated being responsible for the fear in her voice, but he had to get the warning out...
“Abbs, Abby...I need you to listen...there’s a white male, 6 foot wearing blue and white nikes...navy blue hoodie and dark jeans...tattoo...a-ace of spades...on his neck...looking to kill cops.  He saw my uniform and assumed…” Exhaustion threatened to pull him back under, but he steeled his resolve.  “You’ve gotta put a warning out. This guy’s out for blood, and pretty ballsy...he got me three blocks north of the station.  Broad daylight,” he breathed weakly.  Steady hands pressed against his side, and Buck cursed himself for groaning.  
When Abby spoke again, her voice wavered.  “The APB is out...and your squad-”
The mention of his team gave him another surge of adrenaline, fear overpowering his desire to rest.  “Wait! I don’t know how long I was out, or where this asshole went...could still be around, waiting for backup to get here.  Don’t dispatch-”
“I’m not going to let you be a martyr right now, Fireman Buckley. PD has already been informed and your squad knows to be careful.  All you need to worry about is not bleeding out before they get there, do you understand me?”
A breath of laughter escaped him, and he prayed she couldn’t hear the fresh wave of pain it triggered.  “Uh oh, you used my full name.  I’m...in trouble.”  His job finished, Buck finally allowed himself to sink into the peaceful cushion of darkness, where he could hardly feel the tremors of cold under his skin, or the pressure that his rescuer was applying to stem the bloodflow.
“You will be if you don’t hang on.  Your team’s almost there.”  She was always taking care of him…
“Yeah...I hear the house siren.  Thanks, Abbs…”  Even though he could hear both Abby at his rescuer trying to get his attention, the fireman couldn’t cling to consciousness anymore.
911911911
Horror seized the breath in Abby’s lungs as the other end of her line fell silent for an agonizing moment. “Buck?! Buck! Evan!” As she listened to rustling, the dispatcher fought to shove down her panic.  As awful as their first date had been, she’d go back to that day in an instant if it meant that she were right beside Buck and not on the other end of a damn phone call, possibly listening to his death.
“A-Abby?” The timid voice snapped her out of her spiral.  “It’s Mark, um...he’s passed out, what do I do now?  I can hear the siren but it doesn’t sound close enough.”  
“Feel his neck under his jaw with your first two fingers, is there a pulse?”  It took everything she had to pretend that she was talking this stranger through saving the life of another complete stranger, and not -
“Yes, but it’s pretty fast.  So is his breathing...and his skin’s clammy.”  In line with hypovolemic shock.  Hurry, Captain Nash…
“Can you see the wound?”
“Yeah, I’m putting pressure on it right now.”
“Good...good.  Has the bleeding slowed at all?” Just keep it together until the others get there...keep it together, Clark, Buck’s life is counting on it.
“Yeah...a little.  I...I think the ambulance is close.  Should I go wave them down?”
The thought of Buck being left even for the moment had Abby snapping out “No!” She waited until he gave a soft noise of understanding to continue.  “Stay with him, keep up the pressure until they make it to you and give you direction from there.” Muffled thuds carried across the line, and garbled voices came through.  Mark was clearly turned away from the phone, voice somewhat distant as he called out to the first responders.  Tears of relief threatened to fall as the tense, worried voices of Nash, Hen and Chimney finally became clear.  “Mark?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Thank you.  What you did will...probably save his life.”  Fear left her stumbling over her words, and Abby clenched her shaking hand into a fist.  It will save his life, she insisted to herself.
“I hope so.”  
She barely registered the goodbye before the line went dead, and the dam holding back her emotions shattered.  Fingers curled gently over her shoulder, and Abby turned to her fellow dispatcher, Stephanie, with a hand over her mouth to smother her sob.  
“He’s in good hands now, Abby, why don’t you sign off and wait to find out what hospital they’re taking him to?”  The redhead nodded, fingers mindlessly going through the motions of logging out as she prayed that Buck would be okay now that his team was with him.  As soon as she finished, Stephanie nudged her towards the break room to wait anxiously for a text from one of them.
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timmyrx2000 · 6 years
Text
Dipper Steps Up: Chapter 6
Chapter Index: (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)
Chapter 6
When Wendy and Dipper left the Shack, the sun had just set. The night insects had not yet tuned up, but bats twittered overhead and out in the forest the woodpeckers, who didn't give up until the light was almost gone, drummed away. "Where are we going?" Dipper asked as they stepped off the trail.
"Into the woods," Wendy said. "You bring a flashlight, dude?"
"Yeah, I have one of the prototypes Grunkle Ford made."
"Good deal. I got the one I use camping. We'll need light on the way back."
In the gathering twilight they hiked on, uphill and down, skirting thickets of huckleberry, boggy growths of cobra lily, and stands of trailplant, threading their way through second-growth fir and pine forests, passing expanses of tree stumps and seedlings. "Dad logs all through here," Wendy said in one clearing, the air sharp with the scent of freshly-cut wood. She switched on her own flashlight and said, "Not far now."
Finally, they reached the cleared crown of a domed hill. Stars spangled the sky overhead, lots more than Dipper had ever seen in Piedmont, where the light pollution from Oakland and San Francisco dimmed them. No moon yet—it was gibbous and waning and, because of the recent change to Daylight Saving Time, it wouldn't rise until nearly eleven.
Creatures howled in the distance. Like the panda duck that Dipper had tried to win for Wendy, the species were indeterminate. In Gravity Falls, they might be anything. Wendy stood beside a stump and took a deep breath. "OK, dude, I know you won't freak out, but this might be rough on you. Remember I'm here for you, though. Wanna hold my hand?"
"Anytime," Dipper said. Her hand was warm in his.
"OK, Gramps, I brought him!" Wendy yelled into the night.
Dipper looked at her, but she had turned off the flashlight and he saw only her silhouette against the stars. "Huh?"
"He said not to tell you till he got here. Gramps! It's me, Wendy!"
In front of them, a greenish fog coalesced. Floating a couple of feet above the ground, it pulsed and brightened and then shrank in on itself, transforming into a hulking, bearded human figure.
"Oh, my gosh!" Dipper said. "The ghost from the Northwest mansion!"
"Dipper," the apparition moaned in its deep, rumbling voice. "I have to talk to you. I mean you no harm!"
Dipper almost sagged with relief. "No problem, sir! Wendy, I'm not afraid of him. You look a lot better, Mr. uh, Lumberjack. Your beard's not on fire, and your missing eye seems to have healed up. And the, uh, axe in your head's gone."
"I'm not haunting anyone now," the ghost explained, self-consciously straightening the blow tie it wore on its . . . beard. "I have no wish to terrify. When you're a ghost, you can take many forms."
"Dude," Wendy said, squeezing Dipper's hand, "this is Archibald Corduroy. He's, like, my great-great grandfather!"
"I wondered about that!" Dipper said. "I saw his picture in your house—uh, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Corduroy."
"You treated me well," the ghost said. "I regret tricking you and then turning you into wood."
"That . . . was sort of scary," Dipper admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
The apparition shrugged modestly. "Well, I am a ghost."
"Yeah. Uh, excuse me, but I thought that after Pacifica let everybody in, you had gone on to, you know, your reward."
"I could not bear to leave this forest that I loved so much in life," the ghost said, gesturing with a sweep of his glowing arm that took in all the surroundings. "Also, once free of haunting the hated Northwest house, I wondered what had become of my family. I soon discovered I have a mighty descendant in Daniel, and a beautiful one in Wendy." The ghost floated next to Dipper and confided: "She likes you, boy!"
"Aw, Gramps!" Wendy said, laughing. "Cut it out, dude! Look, I brought Dipper, like you asked, so just tell him what you've got for him, OK?"
The ghost backed away from Dipper, towering over them both. "He's a brave, intelligent boy, Wendy. You could do a lot worse."
"I really like your great-great granddad," Dipper said to Wendy.
Wendy giggled. "You guys! C'mon, Gramps."
"Very well. Dipper, the root of your friend's trouble is another ghost from the past. An evil one. Well, I say 'evil,' I suppose I went a little overboard myself, but my anger branched out from the betrayal the Northwests committed against my friends and me—no, no, I'll cut that short. Forget it. I'm sorry for the bad things that came from my long hatred, leave it at that. But now an ill-intentioned spirit is trying to possess your fiend Taylor. If he succeeds, terrible things will happen. You have to stop him."
"How?" Dipper asked, his throat feeling tight.
"I'm a lumberjack, not an exorcist," the ghost said a little irritably. "You must discover the way to help. Speak to the boy's family. Seek out his mother. Tell her. She will sense the truth of what I've told you. And beware! The spirit that threatens your friend is implacable, his grip as strong as cypress roots!"
"Dude," Wendy said, "you have, like, a really good vocabulary for a nineteenth-century lumberjack!"
"Being an outdoorsman doesn't mean you have to be illiterate, girl." The ghost started to dim.
"Wait, wait!" Dipper said. "Uh, sir—who is the ghost? That would help!"
"You already know in your heart," the fading ghost said. "It is a spirit that wishes to reincarnate—for revenge!"
"Bill Cipher?"
For just a second the ghost became a little brighter and clearer. "Who? No! Think human!"
And Archibald Corduroy went out like a candle flame in a wind.
"Who did he mean?" Dipper asked in the sudden darkness.
"I'm stumped," Wendy confessed. "Man, Dipper, you took that whole thing a lot better'n I expected! First time Archibald appeared to me, I totally freaked!"
"When was that?"
"Fall, two years back, after you an' Mabes went back to California. Along in October. I was in the woods behind our house cuttin' down some deadwood for the fireplace, and there he was, floatin' right in front of me. I kinda attacked him with my axe, but that went nowhere fast. He eventually calmed me down and told me who he was and all, and said he was gonna watch over our family and protect us, and since then I never saw him again—until I started asking around about the Northwests. Few days ago, he appeared to me in a stall of the girls' bathroom at school. Now, that was awkward. Anyhow, he seemed to know you were gonna come to Gravity Falls and said I needed to get you an' him together so he could tell you something, and he said you might be scared, so not to let you know who I was takin' you to see. You weren't scared, though. Good for you, dude!"
Dipper shrugged. "Those first ghosts I ever saw, the ones in the Dusk 2 Dawn, scared the heck out of me. Mainly because of what they were doing to Mabel and your friends. But I've kinda learned that most ghosts don't want to hurt you. Who could be haunting Chuck Taylor, though?"
"Dunno, man," Wendy said. They'd both switched on their flashlights and were headed back through the woods.
They didn't talk much. But when the lights of the Mystery Shack gleamed through the trees ahead, Dipper stopped in his tracks and said, "Reincarnate. Oh, no!"
Wendy stopped too. "What's wrong, Dip?"
"No," Dipper said. "No, no, no. I hope I'm wrong."
"About what?" she asked.
He swallowed hard. "Nathaniel Northwest."
The rest of the week flew by without any substantial developments in the case. Grunkle Ford lent Dipper a few detection devices and taught him how to use them, and then Grunkle Stan drove the kids home the next Saturday.
They spent Sunday and Monday brushing up for the CAHSEE that the school would give on Tuesday and Wednesday, and to their relief, the tests didn't seem all that hard. "I hope you didn't get bored and start putting down random answers," Dipper told Mabel after the last exam ended.
"Nope!" Mabel said. "I learned my lesson after the test I took in fifth grade that said I should be busted to kindergarten."
Chuck had seemed OK, and that afternoon, their first practice since the early spring break, he recovered his playing form again, pitching hard, hitting hard, running full-out. The Thursday practice was good, too, and Dipper began to think that everything was all right again.
Saturday brought a big game with the Bay City Blues. Their win-loss record tied Piedmont's, and Coach said that the teams were a pretty close match in ability, too. The Blues had a good pitching staff, some good hitters, and typically racked up scores of five to ten points in a game. They weren't the most spectacular team, but like the Panthers they played a steady, relentless game.
Saturday morning, the game started out well. Bay City won the toss and chose to take the field. Their pitcher had game: he struck out both Mike and Petey with three pitches each, and Dipper began to think the Panthers were doomed to an early loss.
However, Chuck, looking healthy, belted out a solid double, and following him at bat, both JD and Barb managed singles, sending Chuck home for the first run of the game. Unfortunately, Jon J sent a sweet high fly ball deep into left field—and right into the fielder's glove.
Chuck's pitching began unsteadily. The first batter racked up one strike and three balls before hitting a single. The second man up got a double on the first pitch, putting the runner on third and ready to score. From the bench, Tripper watched Chuck wipe sweat from his face, kick at the mound, and then lean forward, looking determined.
Off on the sidelines, Mabel, in her cheerleader costume, acted subdued. The Panthers had a bigger crowd than ever—their away games had frankly pitiful attendance, just the kids' parents and maybe five or six students—but now the bleachers were nearly full of cheering kids and adults. Except Mabel's enthusiasm had ebbed. Dipper knew she was worrying about Chuck.
However, Chuck promptly struck out two Blues in a row. The next two batters both got on base, though, one single, one double. Then when Vance McCall stepped into the batter's box, Chuck took his time considering his first pitch. McCall was the Blues' best hitter by far.
And he proved it by pulling a low fly to far right field, where it hit and bounced, for a moment looking as if it would go straight to Petey DeFoy—but then it bounced again, taking a bad hop deeper into fair territory, making it hard to field.
McCall wound up standing on second base. The first two Blues scored, and there went Piedmont's lead. As though to apologize to the fans, Chuck struck the next guy out with three fast pitches.
Second inning began with X-Man getting a single, trying to push it into a double, and getting tagged out. However, then both Hi-Ho and Bobby made it to base—Hi-Ho successfully stealing second before Bobby's single put him on third. Dub struck out, and it was Dipper's turn.
He'd been working hard on his batting. He let a ball go by, choked up on his grip, and took a swing at the next pitch—and connected. It was a grounder, skipping just past the third baseman and running right along the foul line.
Miracle of miracles, it didn't cross the line, and Dipper made it to first! More, it took Hi-Ho home—Dipper's first RBI. For a moment, it looked like a Piedmont rally, but Big W's hard grounder was snagged by the Blues shortstop, who fired the ball home just in time for the catcher to tag Bobby out.
The Blues couldn't get anything going in the bottom half, and the second inning closed with a 2-2 tie.
The Panthers came to bat for the third inning. Coach sent Dipper and Krenk in as subs and asked Chuck how he was feeling. "I'm OK," he insisted, though Dipper thought he was sweating harder than usual. It was a dismal inning, three Panthers coming up to bat, two being put out, one getting on base, and then with Jimmy in scoring position on third base—Krenk went down swinging, one, two, three, to retire the side.
In the bottom, Chuck's pitching was noticeably slower and less accurate. Still, he held the Blues to just one run, though that put them ahead again, three to two.
Before the turnover, Coach walked out and asked Chuck, "You gonna be OK? I can pull you."
Dipper saw Chuck shake his head and heard him mutter, "I think laying off practice last week put me off my game. I'll stay in."
In the top of the fourth inning, Mike, first up, got a single, and Chuck matched it. Coach called for time out and said, "Pines, you're faster. Go in as a pinch runner for Monohan."
Though he felt a flutter of anxiety, Dipper did. He led off second, tense, ready to jump back if the Blues pitcher suddenly turned and threw to the second baseman. Like Chuck, the Blues pitcher seemed to have lost some steam, and JD blasted his first pitch into a hard liner into the gap and dug out on what looked to be a double—but the right fielder scooped it up and got it to first in time to hold him.
But Dipper, running full out, tagged third, saw the coach motion him, and, imagining the Gobblewonker nipping at his heels, blasted for home. He could hear Mabel, not leading a cheer, but just screaming "Go, Bro, go, go, GO!"
The catcher stepped up, mitt raised, and Dipper fell into a slide, raising dust. The ball smacked the mitt. Dipper's cleats touched home plate, the catcher tagged his calf, and the ump yelled, "Safe!"
The crowd went wild. Well, mostly Mabel went wild, but still. He had tied the game again, 3-all.
There the Panthers lost their luck. One man out on a pop fly, and then a double play ended their chance to pull ahead.
Chuck didn't look as if he felt well when he stood on the mound. But he bore down and struck out the first two Blues at bat—the second out was actually their first man in the rotation. Then he got two strikes past the third batter—and as he wound up for the third pitch, all at once he tottered and went down on one knee, the ball on the ground, his right hand going out to brace himself. He croaked, "Coach!"
Waylund, Dipper, and the other Panthers hustled out. "What's wrong, Chuck?" Coach asked.
"Real dizzy," Chuck gasped. "Better take me out."
The crowd applauded as Waylund helped Chuck to the dugout, and Dipper saw Mr. and Mrs. Taylor coming down from the bleachers, looking anxious. Waylund sent in Jon J as replacement pitcher, and he did his best, but Chuck's second near-faint had shaken up him and the other Panthers, and Jon J let another two Blues batters on base before the next one got a single, pulling the Blues ahead by one run. Then he pulled it together and struck the last man out.
Dipper hastily trotted in to ask Chuck how he was feeling. Chuck, huddled on the bench, shrugged miserably. "We'll take him back to the doctor," his dad said.
"Not until the game ends," Chuck said firmly. "Just a little dizzy."
It might have gone better if he'd gone then. The Panthers, keenly aware that Chuck was sick and was watching them, lost their concentration. They fought the game out, even managing another run in the top of the seventh, but it ended with a Blues win, 9-4.
Dipper had missed an easy catch and had fanned three pitches, striking out in the worst way possible. As soon as the game ended, the Taylors took Chuck away—he was walking under his own power, at least—and the team morosely apologized to the coach.
"Forget it, men," he said. "I'll stay in touch with the Taylors and get word out to you if it looks serious. Let's hope it isn't."
"We're all hoping," Mabel said. She had come into the dugout, and tears stood in her eyes.
In the back seat of the family car, as their mom and dad stood outside talking about the game—and probably Chuck's illness—Dipper said to Mabel, "I'm going over to the Taylors' this afternoon."
"I'm coming too," she said.
"If you want. Listen, do me a big favor. You get Chuck and his dad aside somehow. I have to talk to Mrs. Taylor."
"About what?"
Dipper's voice was grim: "About a family ghost."
To be continued
Note from the Authors: This was just an idea I had but the one who really worked his magic and wrote almost all of this is none other than BillEase. He’s an amazing author who usually hangs out at fanfiction.net. Don’t pass up on a chance to check out his stuff. This guy is AMAZING. He wrote the story, I just gave the plot.
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authoressskr · 6 years
Text
Gabriel, Loki, Trickster, Cat?
Written for: @winsister91 Sammikin’s Trickster Challenge
Pairing: Gabriel x Reader
Characters: Reader (Hey, that’s you!), Gabriel, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Golgos (OMC), Himeros (OMC), Mentions of Aphrodite and Zeus
Warnings: Language, Crack?, Cat Castiel and Cat Gabriel?
Summary: Gabriel just wants to find the woman who’s soul is so different from any other he’s ever seen - the witch they’re hunting has other ideas.
Tagging: @winsister91 @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @lucis-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4
Note: Do NOT post, copy and paste, or share my works on any other platforms without my express permission. REBLOGGING is fine. :)
A/N: Pictures not mine. Cat pics found on Google and the wedding venue is from The Chapel of the Flowers website.
Gabriel saw her across the street, shoving the other half of a twisted glaze donut into her mouth before she burst out laughing at the teasing the gentleman next to her was giving. He stood stock-still like an idiot on the other side of the street, marveling at the way her soul swirled and pulsed with pinks, golds, and grays.
He was vaguely aware of Dean nudging his arm before Cas waved a hand in front of his face, both saying his name with concern. Sam had quickly put two and two together, noticing the woman on the other side and a silent Gabriel standing dazed, grinning stupidly at her.
Sam crossed the street, following no more than ten feet behind her - only to lose sight of her when she turned the corner with the man she’d been with. Gabriel, Dean, and Cas all followed him across the street, just a handful of feet behind when he turned back to them, hands raised up as he shrugged.
“You lost her?” Gabriel asks incredulously.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been staring like an idiot…” Dean trails off, shoving his left hand into his dress pant pocket.
“Hard to believe you muttonheads have saved the world. And more than once!” Gabriel mutters before reaching out with his grace to find any lingering traces of her. There are only a few tendrils, all located behind him, so he turns to Cas. “Did you see her soul?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what, Gabriel?” Gabriel rolls his eyes so hard at his brother’s question, he briefly wondered if the red flicker he saw was brain matter.
“Did you see the colors, Castiel? Pinks and golds and grayish silvers.”
“It just appeared to be pink to me. Which, in itself, is very odd. Most souls are blues or whites.”
“Uh, guys?” Sam taps on Cas’s shoulder, motioning back to the other side of the street. “Maybe we should get back to the case?”
“People are dying every day, Sammy. I have never seen a soul like that. And I’ve been around this marble a few times.” All three of the men glare at him, which he pretends not to notice. “Alright. Alright! Let’s get back to saving people. But I call dibs on her.”
Dean gets an annoyed look on his face and crosses the street, while Sam stares at him before rolling his eyes and following his brother. Cas’s glare morphs into something more questioning and with a quick look back, Gabriel crosses with Castiel a few steps behind him - both at a loss for the missed encounter and the woman with the bright soul.
The paper’s website had stated that the woman stabbed her own mother then had a mental breakdown, sobbing over her lost love. Classic siren. And since Chuck had unceremoniously dumped Gabriel in their laps nearly six months ago, they figured this would be an easy case to crack.
It was turning out to be anything but.
The next night, a couple was snatched from the woods. No blood, no screaming. The only reason they even suspected it was linked was that the young man’s mother came in to report him missing, muttering a few choice words about his girlfriend and how she just wanted to deflower her son. So, maybe not a siren? Maybe a dragon? Shit.
Once they were done snooping around the sheriff’s station, they headed back downtown for lunch before they would head over to the sister’s house to talk about the incident of her mother’s death - Sam suggested they go ask the missing kids’ parents a few questions after that, hoping to narrow down their list of monster suspects.
They were all walking out, discussing various monster possibilities when Sam suddenly stopped, making Dean run into him.
“Jeez, Sammy. Warn a man!”
“It’s her! Gabriel’s mystery woman.” Gabriel was standing stock still, once again, staring as her tongue swept out of her mouth to lick at a triple scoop ice cream cone. She was only a few store front’s down, accompanied by two men this time, both around six feet, one blonde with dark olive skin and light green eyes - the other with dark brown hair, fair skin and dark blue eyes.
She stops, looking quizzically at the four men staring at her before giving a tight smile before shooting the blonde man to her left a look.
Gabriel let out a loud whine, seeing her dressed in those tight black jeans, a loose purple and white striped sweater and an easy smile before her tongue darted out again to lap at the melting confection. The brunet leaned down to whisper in her ear and her gaze darted to Gabriel.
The blonde held up his hand, approaching them with the woman and another man close behind him.
“Well, if it isn’t Loki. Heard you were dead.” The blonde stopped, his hand held out to shake Sam’s. “And you are?” He asks, eyeing the taller man.
“Himeros, you’re still a Greek dick.” Gabriel huffed out with a giant snarky smile in return.
“Come on, H. It’s not hard to tell - he’s Sam Winchester. That’s Dean, and of course, Castiel.” She gestures with her head to each member before winking at Gabriel.
“Uh, do we know you?” Sam mutters, shaking his hand.
“No,” the brunet answers. “But you did murder our grandfather and aunts, so we know you.”
“Whoa.” Gabriel turns to Sam and Dean. “You took out Zeus?” He whistles lowly.
“Who’s your mom?” Dean queries, shaking Himeros’s hand as well.
“Golgos.” The woman admonishes as she sets her left hand on his forearm. “Oh, um…our mother is Aphrodite. And I’m sorry for my brothers.”
“Brothers.” Gabriel grins out, plucking her hand from Golgos’s arm and bringing it to his lips. “And what is your name, my beautiful buttercup?” Gabriel held her gaze, his chest tightening as her eyes softened.
“Y/N.” She swallowed before licking her lips. “My name is Y/N. What about you, handsome?” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at her question before Himeros interrupted.
“It’s Loki, I already said his name.” Himeros snapped out, moving forward to push Gabriel away from his sister. But Gabriel yanked her into him, wrapping an arm securely around her waist, relishing in the feeling of them chest to chest. “Release my sister, Trickster.” Gabriel leaned forward, taking a generous bite of her ice cream as she raised an eyebrow.
“Naw, I like her.”
“Ga- Loki.” Cas scolded, glaring down at his brother. “We need to get back to the case.”
“You know anything?” Dean grunts, looking from the men to Y/N.
“Just that it’s a witch. And a very powerful one at that.” Golgos answers with a shrug, watching his sister and Gabriel with interest.
“And that’s it?” Sam inquires, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other as he slides his right hand into his jacket pocket.
“That’s it.” Y/N replies, still pressed against Gabriel, looking up at Sam with big, innocent eyes. “We saw the article and since we were in the neighborhood, we decided to stop by.”
“So, you’re gods who hunt?” Dean challenged, giving her a disbelieving look.
“Golgos and I are demi-gods. Himeros is a god.” Her eyes harden as she locks them with Dean. “And if you attempt to harm my brothers, you’ll have a very difficult time getting laid from now on.” Gabriel throws his head back with mirthful laughter, startling the woman in his arms slightly.
“Oh, I like you very, very much, sugar snap.” Himeros snapped, Y/N now safely by his side.
“And I would like it if you kept your Trickster mitts off my baby sister.”
“What about my lips? Other appendages?”
“If you’d like to keep your appendages, don’t put them anywhere near her,” Golgos growls, both moving to stand beside her like bodyguards. She just rolled her eyes before fishing her cell phone from her back pocket and extending it out to Sam.
“Feel free to put your number in there and I will text you any information we find out.” Sam grasps the phone, quickly inputting his number and email before handing it back with a smile.
“Thanks, we appreciate it.”
“Sure, you do,” Himeros muttered before all three disappeared. Gabriel huffed afterward, he and Dean frowning at the now empty space.
“Guess we gotta start narrowing suspects down. Lone witch. Fuck.” Dean groaned out, heading back down the street to get the Impala, muttering the entire way about witches, gods, Gabriel, and bullshit.
“I think that went pretty well, don’t you think so?” Gabriel piped up brightly, grinning at Sam and Cas, Sam rolling his eyes as Cas frowns. “What?!”
Three hours later, just as the sun was setting, they encountered the witch.
He got the drop on them, Gabriel and Cas pushing the Winchesters behind them as he hurled a handful of foul-smelling purple powder at them. The witch was just out of grabbing (and smiting) distance, sprinting away quicker than Sam and Dean could follow. The brothers returned to find both angels gone.
“Fuck,” Sam mutters, shoving his gun back into his jacket pocket, exchanging a look with his brother as Dean dialed Cas’s cell.
“Cas? Where are you, buddy? You okay? Need you to call me back pronto.” Dean let out a sharp breath. “Alright. If that powder crap took away their angel mojo, they couldn’t have gotten far. We weren’t gone that long.” Sam agrees and they split up, heading around the outside of the building where they were attacked. Dean shakes his head when they meet up a few buildings away, “Fuck.” They jog back to Baby, driving slowly back to the motel, keeping an eye out for Cas and Gabe.
Your brothers had gone out to investigate (and pick you up some Chinese) while you were left to finish going through the police reports for the last two weeks on every. single. little. incident. Car keyed: 1701 Rosebud Ave, Max Jackson. Fire Alarm (False Alarm): 386 Monroe Road, Abigail and Joseph Robbins. You couldn’t tell if it was this stack of files or your overprotective brothers that were causing the irritation you felt.
You roll your eyes before hearing a soft thud. You tug the one headphone you had in free, setting them in the next file as a placeholder and rising from the little dinette chair. The little thud sounds again, followed by a light scratching.
Quirking your head to the left, you open the door, eyes dropping down as you hear a pair of soft meows.
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“Oh, my sweet little angels. What have you gotten yourselves into?” Cas quirked his head, peering up at you with unfathomable blue eyes as you drop to your knees, smoothing your hand through his short black fur. Loki - who you definitely knew wasn’t a god - nuzzled under your other hand, goldenrod orbs blinking closed as you scratched behind his ear. “Okie dokie,” You gently pick Cas up, tucking his little black body under your left arm and repeated the movement with Loki before you stand, kicking the door closed behind you.
Bullshit. You shrug off the odd voiced phrase, focusing on what you needed to do next.
You get Cas sat on the end of your bed when your phone rings out, you’re about to set Loki down too when he gives a little hiss and carefully tangled his claws in the arm of your sweater.
“Okay. Fine,” you huff, picking up your cell. “Yes?” Settling against the headboard, tucking your legs under you as Cas ambles forward you sit Loki in your lap, reaching out to scratch under Cas’s chin. “You can’t find Cas and Loki? I believe I may be able to help you out there…” Sam is talking a million miles an hour, half to you and half to Dean, who is muffled but obviously irritated. “No, no - uh, they aren’t injured.”
“I don’t like how you said that.” Dean sighs out as Sam lets you know he’s put it on speaker.
“I’m at the Cloud Hotel, in one of the bungalows behind the hotel, 2B.”
“We’ll be there in 10.” You hang up, tossing the phone onto the pillow beside you before scratching behind Loki’s ear and sliding your fingers down under his chin before rubbing his chest, enjoying the deep purr that rumbled from his little kitty chest.
Mmmmmhmmm. Right. There. Sweet. Cheeks.
You freeze as those words echo in your mind.
“Ummmm…why can I hear you?” Cas shoots forward, shoving his head under your free hand then looking up at you with slightly narrowed eyes. Nothing. He meows loudly, and Loki meows back before climbing up your chest, looking you right in the eye as he presses one of his little paws against your skin just at the neckline of your scoop-neck sweater.
Sweetness?
I have a name, Mr. Not Loki. His goldenrod colored eyes widen as you smirk. I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night, handsome. Sam and Dean will be here in less than ten minutes. Loki meows at Cas who nods his black head before resuming his place by your left knee.
Y/N.
Yes?
I got wings. He pauses, a little sigh releasing from his tiny butterscotch colored chest. Like Kotex.
You laugh, making his body sway slightly with the laughter. That’s an interesting way to come out as an angel! But, I knew. You have this fuzzy - haze? Outline? - golden, multicolored-like edge around you.
And Cas does too? His voice has an edge of - hope? - to it. You mentally shrug it off, looking down at Cas, you draw your brows together.
No. I just knew that he was Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Wearer of the tan trench coat. Member of Team Free Will and the Winchester’s buddy. Two hunters with male model good looks and an angel in a trench coat? Not too hard to deduce who they were. You can’t help it as your fingers sink into his fur again, smoothing from his neck all the way down to the tip of his tail. And you were too - other - feeling to be human. Or even a god. Trust me on that.
Gabriel. He purrs, his eyes sliding closed as you continue stroking him.
Holy shit. Like THE Gabriel? Messenger of God?
Yep. He gives a little pop at the “p”, maneuvering so he’s draped over one of your thighs, letting you keep the contact needed to converse.
So why pretend to be Loki or the Trickster? Isn’t that kind of a step down from archangel?
I like to think I don’t have as big an ego as some of my brothers. And the rest is a long, fairly uneventful story.
Riiight. You pull your hand away as he turns to peer up at you. Your brothers had warned you not to get involved with the Trickster, that he was selfish and only thought of having a good time.
And when it was over, he would disappear. Loki - no, Gabriel - moves, pressing his head against the hand closest to him.
Y/N?  You don’t get a chance to answer, a loud knock sounding at the door. You carefully push Gabriel out of your lap and answer the door. Opening the door and sidestepping, you allow the Winchesters in.
“Where are they?”
“On the bed.” Sam is gaping at the cats, looking from them to Dean to you.
“Are you shitting me?” You purse your lips, leaning against the little dinette table. “Why’d they come here?”
”I don’t know, Dean! I was going through the files diligently, trying to find the witch or get a lead and I hear a little thud. Followed by some loud meowing. Sorry, they didn’t come running to your cat allergy riddled ass.” Dean looks taken aback by your tone and the sharp look you throw him. ”I have to deal with two overprotective brothers - who now they’ve seen not only the fucking Winchesters but the Trickster god Loki - have gone into super overprotective mode. I had to threaten, coerce, bring up how much bitchier I can get, and then threaten some more in order to get a little time to myself. So, here are your angels,” you turn, gathering up the files in your hands and shoving them at the stunned eldest Winchester. “Here are the files…and -” Your phone goes off suddenly, which for some reason just pisses you off more. Stomping over and angrily sliding to accept the call you shout “What?!” at Golgos through the phone. That’s when it hits you.
The sudden irritation and anger.
A hex bag.
That witchy motherfucker.
“Free bird!” You yell your safe words into the phone, panicking slightly at the anger simmering just under your skin. You were usually very in control of your emotions, very easy going and understanding. This was not normal.
Four sets of eyes regard you warily, but Gabriel seems to realize something is off, jumping nimbly across the bed to butt his head against your stomach. Your brothers appear suddenly, Himeros planting himself between you and the Winchesters as Golgos looks you over. “Hex.” You cry, the feeling of being strangled begins and your hand lands on Gabriel’s back, tightening slightly as you look at Golgos with wide eyes. Gabriel meows loudly, raising an alarm as you slide down to your knees, one hand braced against the thin carpet and the other shoved into Gabriel’s fur so hard you were worried you might hurt him.
Cas is helping sniff it out. Just focus on my voice, sugar snap. Can you do that? You can faintly hear him meowing loudly as you struggle to take a full breath. Black spots were beginning to touch on the edges of your vision, his fur so soft under your loosening grip. They got it, sweet cheeks. Y/N? Y/N! And then the blackness swallowed you down.
Something warm was pressed against your chest, making you curl slightly around the warmth.
Something warm and purring.
Purring?
Fuck if your eyelids aren’t heavy.
“Ugh.” You manage as you force your eyes all the way open and being met with a pair of gilded ones. “Hey.” Your voice is rough, throat still raw from the attack the hex bag. You move a heavy hand to stroke Gabriel.
Hey, good-looking. If you had the strength to roll your eyes, you would.
“How’re you feeling?” Himeros asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Sore.” He gives a sharp nod, raising back up to his standing position. “We used the hex bag to track the witch down.”
“And handled it.” Dean finishes, and you push yourself up so you can see him, giving him a nod.
But you’re still a cat.
Apparently…the spell lasts for at least a week. We’re hoping that since we’re more angelic in nature that it’ll be faster. His tail twitches as you sink back down into the mattress. I think I know why you can hear me.
Humm?
You believe in soulmates?
Thought angels - yawn - don’t have souls.
“Get some rest, princess. We aren’t going to take your kitties.” Golgos soothed, smiling brightly. And you reached out, blindly searching for Cas. His head bumps under your outstretched hand, climbing behind your head and resting his head against your neck with a few soft purrs as Gabriel snuggles closer to your chest.
We don’t. We have grace. But we’re destined. You and me, beautiful.
You know how cheesy that sounds? You manage not to yawn when you “speak” that time, taking a deep breath and you lazily trace zigzags through his goldenrod fur.
You’re pretty against the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing for being a daughter of Aphrodite… You can hear his slight chuckle as he stretches slightly to bump his head against your chin.
Gabriel?
Yeah?
Destined, huh?
Maybe we can talk more when I’m not a cat. And can kiss you. Fend off your brothers, snap you up some nice things…
Sounds good, handsome.  You manage before sleep claimed you again.
Two days later - and lots of yelling from Golgos and Himeros (”GABRIEL?! LOKI IS ACTUALLY A FUCKING ARCHANGEL?!” and “GODS, I KNEW HE WAS AN ASSHOLE, BUT THIS…?!) and Y/N protecting Gabe’s tiny cat body from her brothers in those first few hours after - Cas and Gabriel were back to normal.
And as soon as they were, Y/N muttered how much she was going to miss their little cat selves. No more waking up or going to sleep with the two of them curled up around Y/N. No more picking them up to rub her nose against theirs or to have her scratching and petting the pair. Y/N had actually enjoyed the last couple days.
Y/N sentiment was not shared by Dean, who had to spend most of his time away from them as possible the last few days.
Gabriel linked his fingers through Y/N’s, relishing in the ability to do so.
“Sooo…wanna get outta here?”
“Nice choice of opening lines there, hot stuff.” Y/N scoffed, pulling away just enough to rile the archangel, his hand tightening on hers slightly before rubbing small circles on the back.
“I’m the Gomez to your Morticia, sweet cheeks. You’ll give in to me. Just a matter of time.” Y/N pulls her hand from his grasp.
“Sorry. I’m not giving into anything without a ring on this finger.” She heads towards her brothers who are talking with Dean and Sam, leaving Gabriel with his jaw on the floor. For about two beats. He appears before her, kneeling with a black velvet box on one knee.
“I think it’s high time I take the plunge.” He clears his throat, shifting under her gaze as everyone stares. “What do you say? Me and you? Rest of eternity? I’ll bring the sweets. Hell, I’ll snap you up a mansion with whatever kind of kittens you want. As long as you don’t love them more than me.” Y/N opens her mouth but Gabriel shushes her. “Come on - lemme get this out. Well, I, uh, help those mooks over there whenever and be a damn good mate. Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Okay. Okay. We’ve only known each other for four days, but that’s long enough when you got as long as we do.” What started as a joke had morphed into him actually asking for a chance. “Y/N? Will you marry me?” Her eyes are searching his, trying to find the trick before her brows draw together as her teeth dig into her bottom lip.
He lifts the top of the ring box, revealing a large Ring Pop, Y/N laughter spilling all around the empty back parking lot. Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows before flashing a big, flirty grin.
“Yes.”
“YES?!” Her brothers shout in tandem as Dean and Sam’s eyebrows both shoot up to their hairlines. Castiel just sighs softly. Gabriel rises, plucking the Ring Pop from its velvet cage and as he offers it to her, her eyes fall on a very real engagement ring shining in the black box in his hand.
“For real now. You know we have a bond. So, you wanna marry a runaway archangel slash trickster god?” Y/N takes fistfuls of his green cargo jacket in hand and presses her lips firmly against his in their first kiss. Gabriel licks his lips after, an easy smile stretching across his face.
“Had to try out the goods, at least partially,” She shrugs before muttering against his lips, “Ask me again. Properly.”
“Mmhmm. I like that you’re a tad bossy.” He brushes his thumb across her jawline. “Y/N, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
“AGAIN?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?! YOU ARE NOT MARRYING HIM, Y/N!” One of her brother’s shout, both moving forward as Gabriel kisses her again before slipping his real engagement ring on her ring finger and the Ring Pop onto her forefinger. “THIS WILL BE THE LONGEST ENGAGEMENT KNOWN TO MAN!” Himeros snarls out, Golgos chuckling behind him.
“These rings actually look nice together.” Gabriel muses.
”Who knew?” She gives a quick peck on his lips. “I am not inviting your family to our wedding.”
“That’s fair.” Gabriel agrees, cupping her face in his hands to deliver a long, passionate kiss.
“What is the phrase? Poor bastard.” Cas begins loudly, shaking his head as Sam and Dean shoot him an odd look. “Her family is nearly as terrible as ours.”
“Hey!” Golgos and Himeros shout in tandem.
“So, Vegas?” Y/N whispers breathlessly in between long, romantic kisses.
“Oh, sweetness, you read my mind.” Gabriel raises his hand and is about to snap when her fingers wiggle against his palm, easily threading together with his, both of them disappearing in a flutter of wings.
All five men’s phones go off simultaneously.
::.:: Chapel of the Flowers, The Glass Garden, 1717 S. Las Vegas Blvd., Las Vegas. Three days from now. Bring a suit. Gifts Optional (No Magical Items, Please). ::.::
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The men’s faces range from amused (Sam) to disgusted (Himeros) to thoughtful (Cas and Golgos) while Dean broke out in a big grin. Vegas!
“They have known each other for four days!”
“At least they’ve known each other longer than Sam knew his wife.” Sam shoots Dean the bitchface to end all bitch faces before flipping him off and climbing into the Impala. “Better get started, Vegas is a couple days drive from here. See you guys at the wedding.” Dean is chuckling as he climbs into the driver’s seat. Cas offers the men each a handshake.
“Nice to meet you. Gabriel, for all his eccentricities and snarky exterior, is a good man. And I believe that Y/N is one hell of an influence on him already. Sam and I will have more trouble with Dean in Las Vegas than you will have with Gabriel.” He claps Golgos on the shoulder before sliding into the backseat. “Hopefully.”
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