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bevioletskies · 3 years

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meet me halfway (across the sky)

summary: Video calls back home were a rare treat for Apollo, considering how busy his life in Khura’in could be. Catching up with Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix was one thing. Getting a sudden call from Klavier was another. And talking to Klavier every day for hours about everything they never knew about each other was possibly the most unexpected thing of all.

word count: 12k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day five of seven (prompt: "parallels"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

Mild spoiler warning for Spirit of Justice, along with implied spoilers for Dual Destinies. Fic title is from the song Meet Me Half Way by Kenny Loggins.

“Uh, Mr. Wright, you’re way too close to the screen. Can you sit back a little?”

“Oops - sorry, Apollo! Still not used to this kind of technology, heh.”

“Sheesh, Daddy, you make yourself sound ancient - ”

“Ah! Did you guys start already? Attendez-moi!”

Chuckling, Apollo leaned back in his seat and waited while the three of them rearranged themselves in front of their webcam. He’d missed this, this camaraderie that he didn’t quite have with his current companions in Khura’in. There was something immensely comforting about it, about every time he managed to schedule a video call with everyone back home. It didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, given how busy they all were, how tricky the time difference could be, but when it did, it was the best part of Apollo’s week.

“Hey, guys,” Apollo said, waving sleepily. “What’s been going on?” He leaned closer, peering at his screen. “...Athena, why do you have a banana sticker on your forehead?”

“Why don’t you have a banana sticker on your forehead?” Athena retorted, peeling hers off with a flourish. “Anyway, everything’s been sehr gut! We’ve had, hm...I think four clients since we last talked? All acquitted, of course!”

“Anything interesting?” Apollo asked. “I’ve had twelve clients, myself.”

Phoenix frowned. “I’m...not so sure that’s a good thing. Are you getting enough sleep? I can’t imagine you having that many cases and not mixing them up. Keeping track of evidence alone must be a nightmare!”

“It’s been...a process,” Apollo said diplomatically, trying not to think about the dozens of folders he had on both his desktop and his actual desk that needed to be sorted in a way that made some semblance of sense. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Wright, I-I’m fine!”

“Famous last words,” Trucy huffed. “Polly, you need rest! We want you back home in one piece, after all.”

“At least I’m not accepting odd jobs anymore,” Apollo chuckled. “I don’t mind helping someone set up their internet or move their couch every now and then, but I can’t do everything.” He startled suddenly at the sound of his phone going off. “Oh - sorry, one sec.” His brows knitted together when he read the call display: Klavier Gavin.

“Apollo? Is something wrong?” Athena asked, concerned.

“I - uh…” Apollo hesitated, unsure of what to do. “I’m gonna mute myself for a second, hang on.” He did just that, then answered his phone. “Gavin? Are you...wait. Did you call me by accident?”

There was a long, lingering silence. Then, “Ach, I only just realized what time it is where you are. I should’ve texted first, ja?”

“Yeah, probably,” Apollo said, laughing awkwardly. “Is this, uh, urgent? It’s just - I’m in the middle of a video call, so…”

“Nein, nein, not all!” Klavier’s voice was too loud, too sharp. Apollo didn’t need to see his face to know what that meant. “You know what? Forget I called, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Apollo protested, frowning. “If you wanna talk for whatever reason, we can - ”

“I have somewhere I need to be, anyway, so, er - Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” Klavier quickly hung up before Apollo could get a word in edgewise. He stared at his phone, perplexed, before unmuting himself. The others looked as confused as he was.

“What happened?” Phoenix asked.

“...Prosecutor Gavin called me?” Apollo shook himself a little. “I’ll get back to him later, so - anyway, what were we talking about?”

_____

Three days passed before Klavier responded to the inquiring text message Apollo had sent him after he’d finished talking to the others. He still didn’t seem ready to talk about it - whatever it was - but he did suggest they do a video call of their own, to which Apollo agreed. Something about Klavier’s behavior was bothering him, and he was more curious about it than he expected to be.

“Forehead? You’re staring, achtung. I know I’m handsome, but you should really keep those eyes of yours under control. They’re going to get you in trouble someday, I’m sure of it.”

“I - ” Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Gavin? That’s how we’re starting this?”

“It was you who started it,” Klavier said petulantly, his tone not unlike a five-year-old’s. But really, Apollo couldn’t stop staring - not because of Klavier’s looks; he’d long made peace with how attractive he thought Klavier was and how much he didn’t want Klavier to know, but because of how tired Klavier seemed. Apollo had expected him to be in his usual “uniform”, his silver jewelry and perfect makeup and impeccably styled hair. Instead, Klavier was wearing an oversized sweater, his hair up in a loose topknot, his face completely bare. He still had that lazy, slightly flirtatious smile on his face, but he was slouching quite a bit, his arms loosely wrapped around his propped-up knee. With his cracked lips, acne scars, and hunched shoulders, he looked more human than Apollo had ever thought possible.

“How’ve you been?” Apollo asked, ignoring him. “I’m surprised you called. I haven’t heard from you in, like. Three months? Four? I swear, I’m losing all sense of time here.”

“Well, it’s not like we had a habit of talking in the first place, ja?” Klavier pointed out. “But...to borrow a phrase, I’m fine, though the courts have been so boring without you here. I almost miss the ringing ears I got after every single one of our trials.”

“Har, har,” Apollo drawled. “Congratulations, you and everyone else have broken me down into exactly two personality traits: sarcastic and loud. Are you proud of yourself?”

“You forgot ‘oblivious’,” Klavier supplied helpfully.

Apollo blinked. “...to what?” He blinked again. “Wait - ”

“Too late,” Klavier interrupted gleefully, beaming. “You’ve proven my point beautifully.” Apollo glared; not five minutes in, and he was already prepared to hang up. “Anyway, I’ve been sehr gut, for the most part. Work has been keeping me busy. You?”

“I’m pretty settled here by now,” Apollo said, shrugging. “It’s rough, y’know, trying to rebuild an entire legal system as the only defense attorney in the country, but, uh...at least I’m not completely alone. And as nerdy as it sounds, I’m actually really liking the work. Not the stress - that, I could do without - but the fact that I get to be a part of this big...thing. It’s exciting, I guess.”

“It’s not that nerdy,” Klavier reasoned. “Nerdy is reading law textbooks at night, under the covers. As a child.”

“...is it weird that I actually did that?” Apollo asked, wincing.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to blink, stunned. “Wait, really? I was talking about me.”

“Oh.” Apollo shifted in his seat, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed. I mean, obviously, I know you became a prosecutor at seventeen, but I just assumed you were a musical child prodigy and...I dunno, switched career paths at some point.”

Klavier let out a soft laugh. “Again, you flatter me, Herr Forehead, but I’m not a prodigy of any kind. Just some good old-fashioned hard work, you know?” He then frowned very slightly. “Though...I’ll admit, I’m not sure how much of my standing at the prosecutor’s office also came down to good old-fashioned nepotism. After all, Kristoph…” He trailed off, unwilling to say more.

Apollo shuddered. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get his former boss’s maniacal laughter out of his head. “Right, um...oh, have you had any interesting cases lately? Athena was telling me she had a literal gravedigger as a client - no prizes for guessing where the victim’s body was discovered…”

The next hour seemed to fly by surprisingly quickly, with the two of them exchanging light-hearted anecdotes about work. As it turned out, they’d both had many interesting cases since the last time they spoke. It wasn’t until Apollo could barely keep his eyes open that he realized what time it was.

“Ach, don’t let me keep you,” Klavier said when Apollo yawned for what seemed like the hundredth time in a row. “You have work in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Wait, but - ” Apollo yawned yet again “ - but we never got around to...whatever it was you were calling about the first time. Your so-called ‘nothing’.”

Klavier’s expression sobered instantly, his mouth pulling back into a hard line. “I’m not going to bother lying to you, Apollo. But I’m not interested in telling you, either. So let’s leave it at that, ja?”

“I...oh.” Apollo nodded, feeling somewhat chastised. “Fine. Fine, we don’t have to - but if you wanna, y’know, catch up again sometime, let me know, okay? I’ve got time to talk. Er, I think.”

Klavier laughed, surprised, though his eyes were still wary. “Do you actually...miss me, Forehead?”

“You really know how to ruin a moment, Gavin,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, talk to you later...maybe. Haven’t decided on whether I actually want to anymore, jerk.”

Klavier continued to grin. “Auf Wiedersehen, baby.” Apollo tried not to think about how the last word had made him shiver.

Weeks went by before Apollo heard from Klavier again, a few days after he’d had a two-hour long call with Trucy. Apollo’s voice was a bit hoarse from all the talking he’d done - not to mention how angry he’d gotten in court just yesterday after a particularly smug witness tried to take over the entire trial - but nevertheless, he was surprised at how happy he was to see Klavier, a feeling he was mostly unfamiliar with.

“Do you have a cold?” Klavier asked. “Your voice sounds a bit strained and raspy.”

“My brain feels strained and raspy,” Apollo groaned. He then paused; for some reason, the exchange sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. “It’s nothing, I just got pissed and yelled at someone in court yesterday. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“But isn’t yelling your default?” Klavier smirked. He looked more relaxed than last time, the tension in his face less noticeable. “I hope the rest of the trial went well, at least.”

“Oh, it didn’t,” Apollo said, snorting. “But...past’s in the past. I have too many cases to deal with to bother worrying about one crappy witness. My client was acquitted, I got the real culprit, you know the deal. It’s all starting to blur together, to be honest.”

“It sounds like you need to get out more,” Klavier suggested, not unkindly. “Is there any sort of...nightlife in Khura’in? Recreational activities, maybe? Don’t make me bother Fräulein Detective and get her to drag you to a bar every now and then.”

“We go out to eat or drink sometimes,” Apollo replied, shrugging. “But...I dunno. I don’t really have the time to take up a new hobby or whatever. My free time is for eating, sleeping, and catching up with people back home.”

“Fair enough, though you really should lighten your workload,” Klavier said sagely. “It’s not like you took cases every day when you were here, ja? I know Khura’in needs your help, but what good are you to them if you’re burnt out?”

Apollo’s eyes widened slightly, stupefied. Then, he tried - and failed - to stifle a laugh. “Okay, Dad. Sheesh, you sound like Mr. Wright trying to give me a pep talk.” He sat back in his seat, loosely running his fingers through his hair. “Fine, then, question for you - when’s the last time you took a day off?”

“I went to visit my parents last Saturday,” Klavier answered after taking a moment to think. “They needed help cleaning and packing away some of...some of his things.” He visibly swallowed, though he tried to hide it with a sharp cough. After some consideration, Apollo decided not to comment on it.

“That’s hardly a day off,” Apollo retorted instead. “I mean, it’s technically not work, but - wait. Do you usually work on weekends, too?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, confused. “Do you mean to say you don’t?”

“No, I - I work on weekends more than I should,” Apollo admitted. “But it’s kinda hypocritical of you to tell me to get out more when you don’t have much of a life, either, y’know. Also, are you seriously telling me you don’t have, like. Other things to do? People to see, places to be? Not that spending time with your parents is a bad thing, I-I mean, it’s cool that you do, it’s just...well.”

Klavier averted his eyes, reaching across his desk to pick up his mug of tea. He took his time with it, drinking at a leisurely pace, before finally speaking again. “Do you actually care to know, Forehead? Or are you just asking to ask?” he said evenly.

“I…” Apollo found himself caught off-guard by both the question and his own answer. “No, I actually wanna know. ‘Cos it’s just - it’s not what I imagined. I’ve seen all the headlines and photos and stuff, so…”

“Ah.” Klavier smiled ruefully. “From the early Gavinners days, I take it? Back when I had Daryan around to be my bad influence? Nein, that’s not exactly my style anymore. I already feel too old for that kind of scheisse. Now, I do these things out of obligation, you know? Work parties, family events...nothing too wild. Not when I’ve been involved in too many scandals. Better to lay low than to put myself out there again, ja?”

“I...I see.” Apollo went quiet for a moment, ruminating. He couldn’t help but notice Klavier had neatly avoided the word “friend”; he was starting to wonder how many he actually had. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had ever mentioned anyone outside of people that Apollo himself already knew.

“You’re staring again, Forehead.” Klavier leaned closer, resting his chin in his hands, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “There’s no one nearly as pretty as me in Khura’in, I take it? Don’t worry, I’d be surprised if there was.” Apollo said nothing, instead lifting a hand from his own mug of honey lemon tea to flip him off. Klavier merely laughed in response, delighted.

_____

After that, the gap between video calls went down from a few weeks to a few days. Neither of them knew why, but somehow, they’d come to a silent agreement that they were going to talk once or twice a week about nothing in particular. However, Apollo still hadn’t quite figured out why Klavier had called him the first time. Initially, he suspected it had something to do with Kristoph, given that the Gavins were finally starting to pack up his things. Maybe Klavier had visited him recently, or maybe he’d reminisced a little too long about their shared childhood, whatever that looked like. But when Apollo had asked, Klavier had simply shrugged it off.

“It’s no secret that even thinking about thinking about Kristoph puts me in a foul mood,” Klavier had replied. “But I haven’t seen him lately, nein. I’m done, I’m - I just want to move on with my life, without his shadow lurking in the darkness.”

Not all their conversations were so heavy, though; once they’d finally caught up on everything they’d missed out on over the last several months, their topics turned mundane, even silly. Apollo never expected to spend one of his precious free Saturday mornings arguing with Klavier, of all people, about breakfast, of all things, but here he was.

“Yes, I’ve had instant ramen for breakfast, what of it?!” Apollo had exclaimed defensively. “Add an egg, some bacon bits...what’s your problem?”

“My problem is your sodium intake,” Klavier had protested. “Bitte, tell me you eat actual fruits and vegetables from time to time. Tell me you have some semblance of a balanced diet and your stomach hasn’t just turned into a toxic wasteland.”

Apollo wasn’t sure why he was talking to Klavier so often, so suddenly, in all honesty. Part of him supposed it was because Klavier just happened to be there - after all, he seemed freer to talk than Phoenix, Trucy, or Athena, and he wasn’t bad company when he wasn’t not-so-stealthily insulting Apollo in court. But another part of him, the part he desperately wanted to ignore, felt oddly comforted by Klavier’s probably-fake accent and his too-wide smile. Klavier’s presence in his small, chilly Khura’inese bedroom almost made him feel like he was back home.

“Have you seen the others lately?” Apollo asked one evening, bundled up in the thickest blanket he could find. There was a draft coming in from somewhere that he had yet to take care of, and neither Datz nor Ahlbi were too interested in checking it out, either. “Or...I dunno. Watched any of Trucy’s shows?”

“I’ve only seen them around at crime scenes and the courthouse,” Klavier replied. Apollo couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a peek over Klavier’s shoulders at his surroundings in curiosity. For once, Klavier was sitting on his bed instead of at his desk or in what was presumably his home office. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have a huge, ostentatious-looking bedroom that was probably bigger than Apollo’s office. “Things have been...busy at the Gavin estate. I don't have much time to socialize with colleagues.”

“Busy?” Apollo echoed, sitting up. “More cleaning, you mean?”

“My parents aren’t retired, but sometimes, they act like they are,” Klavier said wryly. “They want to remodel so many rooms - the kitchen, the conservatory, my old playroom...so I’ve been going home quite a bit these days, helping them with the little things. It was nostalgic, seeing all the toys I used to play with. Feels like a lifetime ago, achtung.”

“What was your thing?” Apollo asked. “Beanie Babies? Barbie Dreamhouses? Legos? Wait, let me guess - you had one of those Fisher-Price piano playmats, didn’t you? Don’t even lie to me.”

“I would never own something so tacky,” Klavier protested; he almost seemed offended. “Nein, Mama was all about wooden toys - blocks, cars, dollhouses, kitchen sets - it’s very aesthetically pleasing. With the occasional soft toy, ja, but we never had plastic.”

“Interesting,” Apollo said, humming. “Same here, no plastic for us. Only, uh - not for the same reasons. More out of...necessity.”

“Oh.” Klavier’s expression softened. “Ja, I suppose in your...situation, you wouldn’t be able to get new things easily.” He then smirked. “Now I’m trying to imagine you and Herr Sahdmadhi as children. I can’t picture either of you with dolls or teddy bears.”

“Try actual frogs and actual bunnies,” Apollo said, sinking down further into his chair. “We were outdoorsy kids, believe it or not. Scraped knees and sunburns and all. But now, uh, good luck dragging me away from air conditioning and indoor plumbing. You couldn’t pay me to abandon my weighted blanket.”

“Picky, picky,” Klavier teased, grinning. “I don’t blame you, though. I’m too comfortable with being comfortable to like change. Though...I suppose that’s not really up to us, is it? Changing?”

“How philosophical of you,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not that deep, Gavin, I’m just saying I’m not interested in sleeping outdoors again anytime soon. One instance of me waking up with ants in places that you definitely don’t want ants was enough.” He then chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “And honestly, who does like change? It’s like when I get a new client, right, and every time, something changes on me. Evidence, circumstances, logic...hell, it’s your fault sometimes!”

“When did this become about me?” Klavier chuckled, still smiling.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back. “It’s like you have this...this uncanny ability to turn any normal conversation into an opportunity for you to wax poetic, just so you can sound cool. If you ask me, it’s more dorky than anything else.”

Klavier’s mouth dropped open. “...Apollo Justice, are you calling me a dork?”

“Maybe I am, Klavier Gavin. What are we, Prosecutor von Karma?” Apollo snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, but between you and her, I think I know which one of you is actually German.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m very German,” Klavier protested, wagging an accusing finger at his screen. “Both of my parents grew up in Germany; they only came to the States so they could get their master’s. They had me learn German by watching Janoschs Traumstunde and Die Sendung mit der Maus, and Mama taught me how to make spätzle and schupfnudeln and reibekuchen - ah, and my favorite dessert? Bienenstich.”

Apollo held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you. I just think your accent’s a little...questionable. You sound like someone who got too overconfident in their dedication to Duolingo.”

“Ach,” Klavier said, laughing. “Anyway, do you mean it? Am I really...dorky?”

“Wow, you’re even more hung up on that than I thought,” Apollo teased, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing as well. “Though I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Image is a big deal to you, after all. Yes, Gavin, you’re a huge dork. How can you not be when you say shit like - like ‘tell me you share my angst, Herr Forehead’ - ”

“And you think my accent is terrible,” Klavier mused, sighing. “So sue me, I like to embellish. I like a little romance in my language - it makes life more interesting, you know? Though I suppose you wouldn’t understand, being the kind of person that you are. You wouldn’t know romance if it asked you to dinner.”

“Ugh, that reminds me.” An involuntary shudder went through Apollo’s entire body. “I had a client ask me out a few weeks ago. Like, seconds after I got him acquitted. As if that was all he was thinking about while the judge declared him not guilty.”

Klavier went still. “...really? What happened? What did you say?”

“I said no, obviously!” Apollo exclaimed, loud enough that he briefly wondered if he’d accidentally woken up his neighbors. “He wasn’t a murderer, but he was still a shitty person. Besides, shitty or not, it’s kind of an unspoken thing to not date clients and co-workers, isn’t it?”

“Ja, of course,” Klavier said, waving a hand aimlessly. “I’m just...surprised.”

“That someone was interested in me? Thanks, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes.

“That someone thought it was a good idea,” Klavier corrected, mouth twisting into a slight frown. “You’re perfect...ly acceptable, Forehead. As a, ah, person to go on a date with, I mean.” He cleared his throat; it seemed to get stuck quite often these days. “Anyway - surely, he didn’t think you would agree!”

“I dunno what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all in the first place,” Apollo sighed, shivering once more. “At least Ema got a good laugh out of it.”

Klavier straightened up, his expression quickly returning to normal. “How is she, by the way? I can only imagine that Khura’in is completely covered in luminol by now.”

“She’s adjusted pretty well, though she’s used to living overseas,” Apollo shrugged. “Her Khura’inese needs some work, though. Er, not that mine’s much better, I’ve been gone for too long. It’s coming back to me...slowly. Very slowly.”

“Sometimes I forget that you speak another language, too,” Klavier remarked. “Considering your grasp of English…”

“My English is fine, thanks,” Apollo huffed; it seemed like he couldn’t go one conversation without wanting to stick his tongue out at Klavier like they were unruly children on a school playground. Or, alternatively, flipping him off like they were fighting over the last parking spot. “Just ‘cos I don’t get all fancy with it - ”

“Here we go again,” Klavier sighed, dropping his chin into his hands. “And you say I make everything about me, hm?”

“Two-way street, Gavin. Two-way street,” Apollo said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Besides, that’s...it’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? Poking at each other until someone gets legitimately pissed? Usually me, but still.”

“I didn’t know we had a ‘thing’,” Klavier said, cocking his head in curiosity. “Tell me more about this ‘thing’ of ours, bitte.”

“See? There you go again!” Now Apollo’s neighbors were definitely awake; he didn’t have to look out the window to know that their lights were coming back on. “You can’t go two seconds without being...smarmy about something. It’s like a bad habit of yours, and I know a thing or two about bad habits.”

“What’s yours?”

Apollo blinked. Klavier had asked so suddenly, so immediately, that he’d barely heard what he’d said. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your bad habit,” Klavier elaborated. “I know you were talking about spotting other people’s tells, but I’m more curious about yours. You’d think that, since I get on your nerves so easily, I’d be able to see it myself, but…” He shrugged, still smiling. It was one of those indiscernible expressions of his that frustrated Apollo so much, the kind of bland, indifferent smile that seemed to mean anything and nothing at the same time. The kind of smile Klavier had in court as he reviewed the facts of the case, or when he ran into Apollo at a crime scene, or even when he talked about not talking about his brother.

“I...I, uh, never really thought about it.” Apollo hummed, thinking it over. “Messing with my hair, I guess? I’ve definitely, literally pulled my hair out before whenever I’m, like. Nervous. Stressed. Worried. Or, y’know, all of the above. I even had a crooked hairline in high school ‘cos I used to do it all the time.”

Klavier lifted his head from his hands, looking at Apollo in awe. He was quiet for so long that Apollo almost asked him if his internet connection had cut out, only to watch Klavier fuss with his bangs, then push them back completely, exposing his hairline, near-identical to what Apollo’s used to look like. It was only then that Apollo realized he’d never seen Klavier with his hair completely up. Of course, he’d seen Klavier do ponytails, braids, even space buns if he was feeling particularly stylish, but his bangs were always swept over his left eye. Now, he could see why.

“...oh.” Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. “I...I see. Is that, uh, recent?”

Klavier nodded shortly, then briefly turned away to grab a hair tie from his bedside table. He held the hair tie between his teeth while he gathered up his hair and twisted it into a neat knot; Apollo tried not to stare at the fullness of Klavier’s bottom lip, sticking out in a perfect pout, as he did. “Can I tell you a secret, Herr Forehead?”

“Oh - er - okay, abrupt change of topic there,” Apollo muttered, more to himself than to Klavier. “I guess so. What’s up?”

“I...haven’t decided how I feel yet about my parents remodeling our family estate.” Klavier’s tone was casual, but Apollo knew by now that it meant nothing. “I know why they’re doing it, I just don’t know why they’re doing it now. Nothing has changed, you know? They’re still working, I’m still working...Kristoph is still in prison.”

“Well, I don’t...know your parents or anything,” Apollo said carefully. “But i-it could be, like, a healing process thing. Starting fresh and all that, you know? But maybe it’s really not that deep. Maybe they literally just felt like, hey, now’s the right time to renovate. You could ask ‘em.”

“Ah - nein, I couldn’t inconvenience them like that,” Klavier said, chuckling awkwardly. He was already starting to mess with his hair once more. “If I expressed anything other than my complete support, they would stop immediately. And they’ve already sacrificed so much for me, I would never...I can’t…”

“Gavin,” Apollo said softly.

“It’s just a few rooms.” Klavier inhaled sharply. “What does it matter? It’s not like I live there. If Mama wants to turn our playroom into a crafting room, it...it makes sense.”

Their conversation, understandably, didn’t last too long after that. Apollo crawled into bed, still wrapped up in his blankets, with over a dozen trains of thought trekking through his mind, more of them about Klavier than he wanted to admit. He’d never thought of Klavier as an inherently private person - at times, he seemed almost too open to speaking his mind - but now, he could see that in some ways, he had been completely wrong.

_____

Unlike before, a few weeks passed before they had another video call. Klavier was wearing a muscle tank this time, his hair scraped back into a messy bun, his bangs perfectly placed. Apollo found himself more than a little distracted by the broadness of Klavier’s shoulders, by the length of Klavier’s neck. “Entschuldigung for last time,” Klavier said smoothly, by way of greeting. “Let’s not have me treat our conversations like my therapy sessions, ja?”

“It’s fine, Gavin,” Apollo reassured him. “One comment about how you’re feeling is no big deal. If you wanna talk, then...talk. Honestly, I’m a huge law nerd, and I could talk about Khura’inese legal practices all day, but, uh, I could definitely use a conversation or two that’s about something completely different.”

Klavier nodded, seemingly thinking it over. “...I like your hair.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “...and I like your shirt. What, are we on a shitty speed date? C’mon, you can do better than that!”

“Ach, you didn’t let me finish,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “I just meant...I like your hair like this. It looks...soft. Less severe. Something that would be nice to touch, you know?”

“I...oh.” A pleasant tingle went up Apollo’s spine. Klavier’s voice was low, warm, especially through his headphones. He brushed his hair back behind his ears, ducking his head slightly so Klavier wouldn’t notice the heat rising in his cheeks. “Trucy introduced me to some new hair products a while back. Said it was stuff she uses to make her hair look extra shiny under the stage lights. Er, n-not that that’s why I’m using it, just...it’s nice to treat myself every now and then.”

Klavier suddenly perked up. “Speaking of treating yourself, that reminds me - you know the best way to help you with all that stress and tension you’re dealing with? A gut massage. Surely, there are some facilities like that in Khura’in, ja?”

Apollo fixed Klavier with a withering look. “...Gavin, we just had a revolution here, like, six months ago. Getting a massage and a facial is hardly anyone’s priority right now, believe me. It’s not like the legal system is off in its own little world, y’know? The economy, the sociopolitical order…everyone considers themselves lucky that they can go about their day-to-day lives, but luxury goods and services? Not here, not yet.”

“Shame, though I can’t fault Khura’in for having its priorities in order,” Klavier said, frowning slightly. “Well, if I ever get bored enough and feel like hopping on a plane, maybe I’ll come visit and give you a massage myself.”

“I’m not paying for your ticket,” Apollo retorted, his cheeks reddening once more. “And are you even qualified?”

“I always massage Papa’s shoulders whenever I go to my parents’ house,” Klavier mused thoughtfully. “He gets sore from all the gardening he does. You should see our estate garden; it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

Apollo’s nose twitched. “I’m, uh, I’m sure it does. Hey, so - tell me about your parents. You’ve mentioned them a bunch of times, but I don’t actually know that much about them.”

“High school sweethearts,” Klavier said with an almost dreamy smile on his face. “The old-school kind, slipping love letters into each other’s bags between classes and all that. Now, they’re both college professors at the same school. They both act like practical, no-nonsense people, but the truth is, they're both romantisch at heart.”

“And then passed that on to you,” Apollo nodded. “Makes sense. They sound adorable, actually.”

“I never had a high school sweetheart of my own,” Klavier sighed wistfully. “I can’t imagine how...all-consuming that must feel. To be so young, to be so sure that this one person, the only person you’ve ever loved, will be the only person you’ll ever love.”

“I guess that’s where we differ,” Apollo said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, surprised at himself. He wasn’t sure where his comment had come from, why he’d blurted it out loud without a second thought. “I, uh, I had...something like that. Someone like that.”

“...oh.” Klavier furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What happened?”

Apollo ducked his head, unable to look Klavier in the eye. “...you know what happened to him.”

Klavier’s eyes widened in realization. “Ach - Apollo, I’m so - ”

“Don’t, I - don’t,” Apollo insisted, a lump forming in his throat. “It’s not, uh. It’s not something I really wanna talk about.”

Klavier seemed unable to speak for a moment, his eyes shining with pity. Apollo hated it, hated how genuinely sorry Klavier looked, as if he had anything to do with it at all. Klavier opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “...I’ve written songs about my parents, actually. Not that you’ll find them on any Gavinners’ albums, just little love ballads that I played at their anniversary parties and vow renewal. They were big hits with my extended family - the one I wrote when I was ten years old is an absolute classic.”

“I’m sure it was,” Apollo chuckled, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “How about now, you write anything recently?”

“Barely a tune since the Gavinners disbanded,” Klavier admitted. “I haven’t felt all that inspired lately. Maybe someday it’ll come back to me, but right now...nothing. Nichts.”

“Good luck, I guess,” Apollo offered. “By the way, what’s with the tank top? Is it that hot over there already?”

“I’ve always been hot, Forehead, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Klavier said, grinning victoriously at the almost too obvious bait.

Apollo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I will hang up on you someday, Gavin, don’t think I won’t.”

_____

The gap between video calls quickly dwindled down from a few days to no days at all. Text messages were constant, to the point where Apollo had to sheepishly ask Nahyuta how to upgrade his phone plan. Even phone calls started to increase in frequency; Apollo was starting to think he heard Klavier’s voice more often than he heard Ema’s, and they often spent entire days in each other’s presence.

“How do you feel about peaches?” Apollo asked, his phone carefully sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he deftly navigated his way through the farmer’s market, nearly tripping over a stray dog as he did so.

“Great emoji,” Klavier replied semi-seriously, though Apollo could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Although...Forehead, if this is your subtle way of asking me for my opinion on Call Me By Your Name, I’ll have you know I never learned how to play Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo fratello dilettissimo. Now, Zion Hört Die Wächter Singen, on the other hand - ”

“Need I remind you, I only speak English, Khura’inese, and college-level Spanish?” Apollo interrupted, shaking his head. “Anyway, peaches are basically a delicacy here. Sucks for me, since I’m allergic to stone fruit.”

“Same, I can only eat them cooked. I love a good cherry pie,” Klavier hummed. “Did you remember to get kale this time?”

“Yeah, I got a huge bundle of it right here,” Apollo said, jostling his wicker basket loudly enough so Klavier could hear. A few market patrons turned to look at him strangely. “Thanks again for the tip, by the way. I’m still getting used to cooking stuff that’s not instant or frozen, so roasting vegetables is a total game-changer.”

“Glad to hear you’re eating actual fruits and vegetables now,” Klavier replied, chuckling. “So, I had a case go kaput today. Thought you might want to hear about it.”

“Obviously!” Apollo said, lighting up. “What did you do?”

“Achtung, why do you think it was my fault?” Klavier protested, his laughter warm in Apollo’s ear.

“Isn’t everything?” Apollo shot back, laughing as well. “Seriously, what happened? Can’t be as bad as...literally anything that’s happened to me.”

“Nein, not quite,” Klavier agreed. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t up against Athena or Herr Wright. Some rookie, I think; I was going to go easy on them. That is, until the defendant, apparently overcome with guilt, decided to bring their own decisive evidence to prove that they did, in fact, kill the victim.”

“No!” Apollo exclaimed. More market patrons turned in his direction, glaringly so. He shot them apologetic grimaces, then ducked behind a watermelon display. “Really? Like, are we talking fingerprints, photographs…”

“Everything, Forehead, everything. I couldn’t have convicted them better myself,” Klavier remarked. “Obviously, I take no joy in celebrating crime, especially murder, but ach, I consider that one of the highlights of my career. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if you were there. I can picture your dumbfounded expression now.”

“You’re terrible,” Apollo informed him, with no real bite behind his words. “But...not gonna lie, that’s kind of incredible. I feel bad for the defense, though. I’ve been screwed over by clients before, but usually not that badly.” He then heard a sharp wuff somewhere by his feet; he glanced down to see the dog he’d nearly tripped over before was now sitting on top of his toes, looking up at him with literal puppy-dog eyes. “...uh, hello. Did you need something?”

“What’s that?” Klavier asked.

“Oh - sorry, not you, Gavin. A stray dog just came over to say hi, I guess.” Apollo crouched down, taking care not to tip his basket. “Hey, buddy. I’m not the one to beg for food, if that’s what you’re looking for. All I can offer is, like, a belly rub.”

“Wait, switch to video, I want to see this,” Klavier pleaded, laughing again. Sighing, Apollo turned on his camera, then aimed his phone at the dog, who was now rolling over onto its back, its tail thumping enthusiastically against the cobblestone. “Ah, what an adorable hündchen! Go on, Forehead, don’t make him wait.” Sighing yet again - at Klavier, naturally, not the dog; he could never begrudge the dog - Apollo carefully set his basket down, then began rubbing the dog’s belly, smiling at the adorably goofy look the dog gave him in return, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his eyes closing in utter bliss. “Hold still for a moment, bitte? I want to make this my contact photo for you.”

“Gavin, I swear - ”

“Uh, Apollo? What are you doing?”

Apollo startled at the sound of a new voice; his eyes widened when he looked up and realized who it belonged to. “Ema! He-e-ey, wh-what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ema replied, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you petting a dog while video-calling Gavin at the farmer’s market?”

“...because I can?” Apollo offered meekly, straightening up. He quickly hung up on Klavier before Ema could attempt to talk to him, silently noting the need to send him an apology text later. “Hey, um - th-there’s a discount on tangyuan today, you wanna go all out and split the cost with me?”

Ema continued to eye him suspiciously. “Sure. But please don’t insult my intelligence - you can’t just distract me with snacks, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Apollo sighed, giving the dog one last pat on the head before leading Ema across the market, towards the aforementioned snack stall. “We just...we talk sometimes. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, if you guys just do video calls every now and then,” Ema said. “But here you are, shopping for produce and chatting with Gavin at the same time. It’s...a little domestic, don’t you think?”

“D...domestic?” Apollo echoed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I just didn’t think you and Gavin had that kind of relationship, that’s all,” Ema continued, shrugging as she popped a grape from her own basket into her mouth. “Listen, I couldn’t care less about that guy. But you’re my friend, so...I have to ask. Is something, y’know...going on there?”

“Wh - no, no, no, o-of course not!” Apollo ducked behind Ema the second he felt the glares of the market patrons turn to face him, again. He was starting to think he wasn’t going to be welcome back for a couple of weeks, at least. “I - he - we’re friends! It’s kinda new, b-but we’re friends. Just friends. He’s, like...pretty decent when he’s not being obnoxious in court. Or at a crime scene...or just in general.”

Ema snorted, reaching over to steal a strawberry from Apollo’s basket next. “I think it’s time you hop off that bicycle of yours, Apollo, because you’re obviously backpedaling.”

“Tortured metaphor, but okay,” Apollo muttered, glowering at her.

“How’d you guys end up talking in the first place, anyway?” Ema asked, chewing noisily. “I can’t imagine you were the one to initiate it.”

“It...I’m not sure, actually,” Apollo admitted, slapping her hand away before she could steal his entire carton of freshly-picked strawberries. They were probably more expensive than all the vegetables he’d purchased, combined. “Gavin called me a while back, seemed embarrassed about it, and then hung up. I asked him later what was going on, we started doing video calls and stuff, and then it turned into a thing, but…I never figured out why he called the first time. And I don’t think there’s any point in asking.”

“Fair enough, though I gotta admit, I’m still curious. For scientific purposes, of course,” Ema added, humming to herself. “Maybe he...no, there’s no way.”

“You know something I don’t?” Apollo asked, nudging her. “What happened to ‘I couldn’t care less’?”

“Believe me, I really couldn’t,” Ema retorted, elbowing him back. “Surprises me that you have enough to talk about, though. I mean, it’s Gavin.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested; suddenly, he felt weirdly defensive of Klavier. Again, it wasn’t a feeling he was too familiar with. “We have more in common than you think. It’s not all just - just guitar riffs and hair tosses with him.”

“If you say so,” Ema sighed, clearly uninterested in pursuing the topic any further. “C’mon, let’s pick our flavors already. And if you short me on black sesame, I will be taking those strawberries of yours.”

Later that evening, Apollo was cocooned in his usual plethora of blankets, poring over the evidence for three separate cases - honestly, the autopsy reports were starting to blur together, which explained why, for a moment, he thought one of the victims had somehow ended up with a bullet hole in their stomach from being stabbed with a blunt object - when his phone went off. He immediately perked up when he read the call display. “Gavin, hey. Sorry again about earlier, you know how Ema is.”

“Keine Sorge, you already apologized,” Klavier replied. “That’s not why I was calling, in any case.”

Apollo frowned slightly, putting Klavier on speakerphone and nestling his phone among his files. “Oh? I, uh, I thought you were just calling to chat.”

“Ja, we can talk about whatever we feel like after, it’s just - I had a question for you.” The deep breath Klavier took before speaking again made Apollo nervous. “Are you homesick?”

“...huh?” Apollo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. “Well, I mean. Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Khura’in was my home once, so it’s not like I’m in a completely new place, but it’s...yeah, I miss being back home, traffic jams and heatwaves and all. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Klavier said innocently, in that sort of tone of voice that made Apollo want to reach through the phone and strangle him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“There’s either no reason, or a reason that I’ll learn soon enough. Pick one, Gavin,” Apollo drawled, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. All he got in response was warm, throaty laughter that sent pleasant tingles down his spine. “Fine, don’t tell me. So, what’re you up to?”

“Just got back from my morning run.” There was a rustling of sound on Klavier’s end that suggested he was still walking around somewhere, presumably inside his apartment. Apollo could only imagine how sweaty he still was, how his skin glistened in the mid-morning sun - and now, he realized belatedly, he wasn’t sure if it was something he should be thinking about at all. “You know, after all this time - I still hate it. Running, I mean.”

“Then why do you do it?” Apollo said, trying not to laugh. “Though to be fair, I feel the same way. Athena used to make me run laps around the agency’s neighborhood sometimes ‘cos I need to ‘improve my cardiovascular health’ or whatever. Never got any good at it.”

“I do it because it’s good for me, but achtung, I wish I actually liked it,” Klavier sighed. “The fresh air, the endorphins, it’s all gut and well, but you know what I can’t stand? Sweat-soaked hair. Sore ankles and stiff knees. Don’t get me started on the sunburns, ach.”

“Okay, old man,” Apollo chuckled. “You sound like a guy twice your age, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who once said they were starting to prefer blander foods over spicy foods - calling me an old man, mein Gott, the disrespect - ”

A few hours later, Apollo was fully curled up beneath his duvet, head resting on his pillow, eyes closed, with his phone tucked under his ear. Neither of them had spoken in a little while, though Apollo could hear Klavier humming under his breath while he worked on clearing out his email inbox. “...you really should take a day off, Gavin.”

“You first,” Klavier said without missing a beat. “Don’t trick yourself into thinking you have to take every case in the country, ja?”

“Same to you,” Apollo mumbled; he was starting to drift in and out of consciousness. “You’re working, like...stupidly long hours. It’s not like you’re the only prosecutor in the district.”

There was a long pause. “Mama said that to me the other day. She told me I should live a little.”

“And she’s right,” Apollo yawned. “Anyway, I’m not gonna get into this again. And it’s not like you have to do anything major, just...take a day off. Go get a massage or whatever. Hang out with friends, go on a date, I dunno.”

“Go on a date, right,” Klavier drawled sarcastically. “Easier said than done, ja?”

“What, is it the fame thing?” Apollo asked, eyes snapping open in curiosity.

“It’s the, ah. ‘Trusting people’ thing.” Klavier let out a quiet laugh. “After convicting mein Bruder, after convicting someone I thought was my best friend...who’s to say any future romantic partner of mine wouldn’t end up facing that same fate?”

“...oh.” Apollo’s face softened; part of him wanted to see Klavier’s expression, while another part of him had the feeling it was better this way, to only hear the slight rasp, the slight crack in Klavier’s voice as he spoke. He could only imagine the noticeable twitch in Klavier’s eyes, the forced smile on his lips, that he’d seen a surprising amount of times over the past few months. “I see. I-I get it. Not like I’m any good at trusting people, either.”

Klavier went quiet again. “Apollo?”

“I...oh. Yeah?” He couldn’t remember the last time Klavier had called him by his actual name.

“Be honest with me, ja?” Klavier murmured. “When we talk every day, when we text and chat and send each other silly things...is it something you actually like doing, or...or are you just bored?”

Apollo snorted. “Oh please, you know my schedule. I couldn’t be bored if I tried.” He nestled deeper into his pillow, yawning. “Nah, you’re...we’re friends. Talking to you is like...part of my routine now.”

“You mean it?” Klavier asked. He sounded so uncertain that it made Apollo’s heart ache.

“I don’t send stupid memes to just anybody, you know,” Apollo teased. “And look, I’m not pretending like this isn’t weird. If you asked me a year ago if I could see myself talking to you on a daily basis, I would’ve said, y’know, ‘never in a million years’. But things are different now, so...yeah. You’re not so bad, Gavin.”

“Ah, danke. What high praise, coming from you,” Klavier drawled, laughing. “But really, I’m glad to hear it. I...wasn’t sure if I was bothering you. When I called that first time, I suppose I had my answer. Then after that, I never really knew for sure.”

“Now you do,” Apollo affirmed, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling too much.

“Now I do,” Klavier echoed, satisfied. “So, how about you, Forehead? Any clients ask you out again recently?”

“No, thank god,” Apollo said, shuddering. “Besides, I’m, uh. I’m not exactly looking to date right now, either. I’m...I’m pretty good with how things are going at the moment. Maybe after I get back. Thinking about thinking about dating, I mean.”

“Smart.” Klavier’s voice was so clear, so warm, that it almost sounded as if he were in Apollo’s bedroom, too. Apollo briefly wondered what it would be like to have Klavier visit, to wander the farmer’s market with him, to take evening walks along the river and watch the fireflies together, to go through an endless number of cases with him by his side. He had to admit, it didn’t sound half-bad. Better than half-bad, really, not that he was going to say so out loud. “Long-distance is never easy. The time zones, the uncertainty, the inability to truly be together...I can only imagine.”

“Right,” Apollo hummed, his eyes drifting closed once more. “I can only imagine.” When he woke up the next morning, he found a text message waiting for him - a screenshot of Klavier’s home screen; its background was a photo of Apollo and the friendly dog. sehr süß, Klavier had texted, and the hündchen isn’t so bad, either. It was too early, in Apollo’s opinion, for his heart to be racing this quickly.

_____

Almost four months to the day since they started talking, Apollo arrived at the post office with a delivery slip in hand, visibly confused by its earlier presence on his front door. “Was this really meant for me?” he managed to ask in his steadily improving Khura’inese. “I never ordered anything from the United States. Just paying customs would make me broke!”

“It really is for you, Mr. Justice,” the receptionist replied. Apollo watched, stunned, as she dragged a crate-sized package out from behind her desk. “You must have people who really love you back home, sir.”

“I...w-wow.” Apollo didn’t know what to say. “Er, do you have someone who can help me bring this back to my office?”

Twenty minutes later, Apollo was sitting on the floor of Justice Law Offices, embarrassingly sweaty and sore from how much effort it had taken him and one of the post office employees to haul his delivery here. Groaning, he reached for his pocket knife, then carefully sliced through the tape, unwrapping the enormous package layer by layer. When he finally reached its actual contents, he sat back on his haunches, stunned by the sheer amount of items inside.

The package consisted of two sturdy boxes; one was labeled with Ema’s name, so Apollo took it out and set it aside. He then opened the one that bore his name, only to find it was packed surprisingly tight. Boxes and boxes of his favorite snacks that were too expensive to import to Khura’in, well-loved copies of his favorite manga that had clearly been taken from his apartment back home, thick stacks of the most obnoxious California-themed postcards known to humankind with handwritten notes on their backs - before Apollo knew it, his eyes started to well up with emotion. Finally, at the bottom of the box, cushioning the other items nicely, were a few of his sweaters and hoodies, some of which still had a few stray Mikeko hairs on it.

“Oh,” Apollo said faintly, wiping his eyes hastily despite being completely alone. Then, he frowned. “Wait, what is…” He pulled out the only item of clothing he didn’t recognize, an unusually large hoodie in a familiar shade of purple with an embroidered rose on its breast pocket. Stuck to its left sleeve cuff was a sticky note; Apollo peeled it off and began to read what was on it.

herr forehead,

wear this the next time you go out, just in case you run into that hündchen again. It smells just a little bit like my parents’ dog - and like me, if you’re into that sort of thing.

alles liebe, klavier

Later that day - well into the evening, really - Apollo was eating dinner at his desk, rummaging through a hefty stack of police reports, when his laptop pinged, reminding him he had a scheduled video call that was about to start. Grinning, Apollo turned on his webcam, his heart pounding in anticipation. “Hey, Gavin. So, what do you think?”

“What do I think about - oh.” Klavier’s mouth fell open. “You’re...I didn’t think you were actually going to wear it.”

“Is, uh...is that a bad thing?” Apollo asked, suddenly nervous.

“Nein, nein, not at all! You look...achtung, you look good,” Klavier said hoarsely, swallowing. He then cleared his throat; his cheeks were flushed pink, much to Apollo’s delight. “Bitte, stand up for me? I want to see how long it is on you; it’s amazing you haven’t completely disappeared inside of it.”

“Asshole,” Apollo said affectionately, getting out of his chair and taking a few steps back so Klavier could see. He smoothed out the front of the hoodie, realizing belatedly that its hem only just grazed the tops of his bare thighs. “Er, don’t mind my legs. I-I’m wearing shorts underneath, I swear!”

“I don’t mind at all,” Klavier replied, cocking his head. His eyes were darkening, shining with something that Apollo couldn’t quite identify. “Have you worn it outside yet?”

“Nah, not yet. I was actually planning on wearing it to bed since it’s kinda cold, and this thing’s the biggest thing I have,” Apollo admitted, sitting back down. At Klavier’s exaggerated eyebrow raise, he groaned. “Shut up. Don’t make it weird.”

“I said nothing,” Klavier teased, dropping his chin into his hands. “So, did you like our care package? Trucy reached out to me on the same day you ran into that hündchen and asked if I had anything to contribute. I also sent Ema some old Gavinners’ merchandise, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I heard about it from her, alright,” Apollo chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Amazing how you manage to continue torturing her from several continents away. Maybe that’s your real talent.”

“To be fair, I was also the one who got her the beaker shot glasses and the glow-in-the-dark periodic table blanket,” Klavier pointed out, laughing as well. “I think all would be forgiven if she knew that was me.”

“So she gets new stuff and I get hand-me-downs, huh? I see how it is,” Apollo said, tucking his knees into his chest and yawning. “Seriously, though, thanks. This thing smells like that cologne of yours I don’t like.”

“And the backhanded compliments continue,” Klavier said, amused. “I hope you feel a little less homesick, at least.”

“Oh, I’m more homesick than ever,” Apollo snorted. “But I appreciate the care package, really! Having all this stuff here is amazing. It’s just...well. Stuff isn’t, uh...it’s not exactly a substitute for people, y’know?”

Klavier nodded thoughtfully, his smile sympathetic. Apollo took a moment to look at Klavier, to really look at him, and see how he was doing. He looked good; his skin had a glow to it, and his eyes and hair seemed to shine a little brighter than they had the very first time they’d talked. Klavier was bare-faced more often than not - aside from his tattooed eyebrows and eyelash extensions - though he seemed to be experimenting with his hair here and there, occasionally sporting different styles of ponytails, braids, and updos. It almost made Apollo forget how sullen he’d looked four months ago.

“Is that why you’re staring again?” Klavier asked, smirking. “Are you finally ready to admit you miss me, Forehead? That you miss my charming personality and my devastatingly good looks?”

“So what if I do?” Apollo huffed. He then frowned at Klavier’s wide eyes. “...what?”

“Nichts, it’s just - you do realize you just said you actually miss me, ja?” Klavier said disbelievingly. “Do you really mean it, or...or are you just saying that?”

“I-I...well.” Apollo shot him a small smile. “Yeah, Gavin, I miss you. Thought that was, uh. Kinda obvious by now.”

Klavier grinned victoriously; he looked seconds away from pumping his fist into the air. “Achtung, I knew it!”

“And the dorkiness continues,” Apollo said mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I mean it, how did you convince an entire generation of teenagers that you were cool? You go around saying crap like ‘let’s rock with these documents’ and ‘you have to get on up in order to get on down to prosecuting’ - are you an internationally-renowned rockstar, or an awkward dad trying to connect with his teenager through the power of classic rock? What’s next, Gavin, you gonna go buy a lawnmower and some cargo shorts? Fire up the grill and wear a kitschy apron?”

“Mein Gott, you’re vicious sometimes,” Klavier sighed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ich vermisse dich auch, by the way. I think I've been...a little more obvious than you.”

“Maybe,” Apollo hummed. “But hey, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel appreciated for once.”

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?” Klavier asked.

“I’m, er...I’m not sure,” Apollo said hesitantly, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t think I was gonna be sticking around for this long to begin with, and now it’s...it’s gonna be the rest of the year, at least. Maybe even another year on top of that.”

“You...you think so?” Klavier’s voice was small. Nothing about his expression seemed remotely cheerful now.

“It’s not like I can leave whenever I want to,” Apollo shrugged, sighing. “Khura’in needs more defense attorneys before I could even begin to consider it, and that’s not gonna happen overnight. Not with their deeply ingrained feelings towards ‘em.”

“Wait - you’re not still in danger, are you?” Klavier asked worriedly, his voice suddenly filling with urgency. “No threats, no death sentences - ”

“I-I’m fine, Gavin, don’t worry,” Apollo reassured him. “It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute, back at the beginning, but everything’s fine now. Trust me, if something was going on, you would’ve heard about it earlier.”

“Gut,” Klavier said, satisfied. “After all, if something were to happen to you…” An odd expression flitted across his face, too quickly for Apollo to catch, though he had his suspicions. “Well. Trucy would be devastated, natürlich.”

“Right...just Trucy, huh?” Apollo murmured, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What about...oh, I dunno. Athena would be upset for sure. Can’t forget Mr. Wright, either.”

“Nein, definitely not,” Klavier said, clearing his throat. He paused before speaking again. “Forehead, do you ever wonder what Herr Wright really thinks of you?”

“Sure, all the time,” Apollo admitted. “We didn’t, uh...well, let’s just say we didn’t start off on the best foot, you know that. Why?”

“Because I do, too,” Klavier confessed. “Ach, I want to go the rest of my life not thinking about mein Bruder and all the lives he ruined, all the lives I helped him ruin, but - ”

“Gavin, that’s not what happened and you know it,” Apollo said gently. “And I’m not exactly sure how Mr. Wright feels about you, but I seriously doubt he still has a problem with you. He probably just feels a little, y’know, awkward. You guys went seven years without knowing the whole truth, after all.”

“Ich weiß, ich weiß, it’s just…” Klavier laughed bitterly. “...I’d like to go at least one day without worrying about what someone else thinks of me. Just one.”

Apollo suddenly found himself wishing he could reach through the screen and pull Klavier into his arms; it wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me. You already know what I think about you.”

“Do I really?” Klavier teased, though he still looked somewhat worried.

“Yeah, sure,” Apollo replied, smirking. “You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. And, uh...I wouldn't have it any other way. I think.”

Klavier laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “You have a way with words, Forehead, you really do.”

“Thanks,” Apollo drawled, chuckling. “So, today’s case went about as well as expected - meaning it didn’t go well at all…”

_____

Khura’in was beautiful year-round, Apollo mused as he walked alongside the riverbank, but it was especially picturesque in the height of spring, during the month of May. He’d woken up unusually early today, especially given it was one of his very rare days off, not to mention the fact that he’d stayed up late last night, talking to Trucy, Athena, and Phoenix. For whatever reason, he had felt like taking his breakfast - anpan and a warm thermos of green tea - outside, while the sun was still rising. It was a peaceful backdrop for the start of what he hoped would be a peaceful day.

Yawning and stretching, Apollo dropped down to sit in the long grass, the worn-out toes of his boots grazing the water’s edge. He lifted his saddlebag off his shoulders and set it aside, raking his fingers through his hair. It was getting quite long in the back, he noted, but he didn’t care enough to cut it. Before he could take his first bite of his anpan, his phone started to ring. “...Gavin? What’s up, aren’t you going to bed soon?”

“I just wrote a song for the first time in ages, so I’m too alert to sleep at the moment,” Klavier admitted, his voice deeper and raspier than usual, sending shivers up Apollo’s spine. “I’m surprised you’re awake, too. It was only when I started calling you that I realized you were probably still in bed.”

“Felt like catching the sunrise for once.” Apollo turned on his phone camera, then switched it to the rear-facing one so Klavier could see what he was seeing. The entirety of Khura’in, it seemed, was momentarily bathed in a warm, yellow-orange glow. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s wunderschön,” Klavier remarked, awed. “Almost makes me wish I was in Khura’in.”

“I wish you were here, too,” Apollo said quietly. His eyes then widened. “Er, I-I mean - ”

“...Apollo?” Groaning internally, Apollo fumbled with his phone, reluctantly switching to his front-facing camera so he could shoot Klavier a nervous smile. He could see now that Klavier had turned on his camera, too; he appeared to be sitting on his bedroom floor, leaning up against a window, his face illuminated by moonlight. Somehow, his blue eyes were even brighter in the darkness, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows. Apollo’s breath hitched as he was momentarily rendered speechless. “Achtung, you still manage to surprise me after all this time.”

“I-I said nothing!” Apollo said hastily. “You’re - I - i-it’s early, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“If you’re planning on staying for even longer, I really should come and visit, ja?” Klavier continued, his grin equal parts sleepy and teasing. “For one thing, I can finally make good on that massage I promised you, get all that stress and tension out of your body. I could also bring you more of my clothes, since you seem to really like that hoodie of mine.”

“What would you even do here, anyway?” Apollo asked, momentarily looking away so Klavier wouldn’t see how red his cheeks had gotten. “There’s no nightlife, barely any recreational activities...not to mention the wi-fi kinda sucks. Besides, it’s not like you’re allowed to prosecute in Khura’in.”

“Let me be your co-counsel,” Klavier offered. “After all, if Herr Blackquill can help Athena, why can’t I help you?”

“That...would be kinda interesting, actually,” Apollo admitted. “And where would you stay?”

“WIth you, natürlich,” Klavier replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After all, if you want me there, I should be as close as possible. I’d make the perfekt roommate, you know. I can cook for you, clean for you...it’d be domestic, nein? Like I’m your stay-at-home husband or something.”

Apollo shivered again. Despite his distaste for his lyrics, Klavier certainly had a way with words. “You wouldn’t be...I dunno, bored out of your mind? Things are definitely slower here compared to California, you know.”

“The change of pace would be nice,” Klavier said diplomatically. “And I certainly wouldn’t complain about the company.”

“Well, uh, sorry to break up your super-specific fantasy, but I think I’m actually pretty close to getting out of here,” Apollo said, trying not to linger too much on his own mental picture of what Klavier had described. “Another few months, maybe? Six, at most. And since it’s sorta unknown, I wouldn’t recommend booking plane tickets anytime soon.”

“Really?” Klavier perked up. “You’re coming home? Have you told the others?”

“Yeah, I talked to ‘em last night,” Apollo said, setting his phone down by his bag so he could finally take his first bite of anpan. “It’ll be weird once I return, that’s for sure. I’ve been in Khura’in for exactly one year, right down to the day, but...well. It’s definitely grown on me, even with all my...my mixed feelings about it. Though I, um...I guess those mixed feelings are more about a person than a place, and he’s...he’s, well...you know.” He swallowed thickly, reaching for his thermos and taking a generous gulp of his tea.

“Any regrets?” Klavier asked softly.

“About Khura’in, or d’you mean in general?” Apollo asked, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his nervous laugh.

“However you’d like to interpret it,” Klavier said, gesturing aimlessly. “I can be generous sometimes.”

“Yeah, real philanthropist, you are,” Apollo retorted, chuckling. “Well, you know I’ve had days where, like. I feel like I shouldn’t have stayed behind, after all. Like I’m way in over my head, and..like I’m not...not good enough. Like I’m just winging this whole thing, which is scary, ‘cos it’s like the entire country’s future is in my hands, and I can’t just - I can’t improvise. I can’t make it up as I go along, I-I have to know it. Do it, be about it. Make it my whole life, you know?” He stopped to take a breath; the sympathetic crinkle of Klavier’s brow was more welcome this time. “But no, I don’t regret sticking around. I just wish I’d gotten some closure.”

“Closure?” Klavier echoed.

“Yeah, there’s...I’ve got stuff I wish I’d been able to do or, or say before I ended up living here for twelve months,” Apollo confessed. “It’s not like I knew I was moving here when I did, so...it’ll be nice to head back home and settle in and...and get all of that out of the way.” He took a few more bites of his anpan as they ruminated in their shared silence. “How about you? Any regrets about, well, anything?”

“Me?” Then, to Apollo’s surprise - though maybe not to his surprise, given all that had been said and done between the two of them, just the two of them - Klavier let out a bitter laugh. “Always.”

Apollo’s face softened. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly, nein,” Klavier said, visibly shuddering. “Just once, I’d like to not drag our conversation down. Ach, and I used to think you were the buzzkill. Now look at me, ja?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gavin,” Apollo insisted. “I get it, you - you feel things really intensely. I know that now, and, uh. Well, I do it, too. And we hold it all in and we don’t say anything ‘cos there’s bigger things to worry about, a-and then it’s like...like a dam breaks. Like everything just comes rushing at you all at once. There’s no way of stopping it, as much as you want to, and when it’s finally over...you never know how to feel about it. Because it’s not cut and dry, i-it’s not black-and-white, it’s just...it just is. So you move on, ‘cos there’s nothing else you can do about it, and you keep going. And then it starts all over again.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Or, uh, or maybe I’m just describing what a trial feels like.” Apollo glanced back at his phone, only to see Klavier staring at him in wonderment. “...er, too much?”

“Not at all, it’s just...you’re always full of surprises,” Klavier murmured; he almost sounded impressed. “That was incredibly astute, especially for you.”

Apollo wilted. “...thanks. Glad to know you think so highly of my intellect.” Still, Klavier’s warm laughter managed to get him to crack a smile. “So, you said something about writing a new song? How’d that go?”

“I had a burst of inspiration, you might say,” Klavier said, nodding. “Like my muse sat beside me on the piano bench and hummed a melody in my ear.”

“That sounds more creepy than anything else, but okay,” Apollo snorted. “Can I hear it?”

“Nein, not yet,” Klavier replied mysteriously. “When the time is right, ja? Besides, it’s...it’s a bit personal.”

Apollo shifted slightly in his spot. “Personal, huh?”

“It’s about...someone who means a lot to me, and something I’ve been meaning to say to them,” Klavier said carefully. “Because...I’ve been looking for closure, too. And possibly, if I do it right, I might also get a new beginning. Does that make sense?”

“It’s a little cheesy, but, uh, yeah. Makes sense.” Apollo pulled his knees into his chest, resting his chin on top of them with a quiet exhale. “Do I know this someone of yours?”

“Ja, definitely,” Klavier murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re not mine, but...I want them to be.”

“I...I see.” Apollo felt his own pulse pounding in his ears, so loudly that he could barely hear his own voice. “Hey, Gavin, I - I wanted to - there’s something I’ve been wanting to say, and...and I…”

“What is it?” Klavier asked, sitting up, hopeful.

“Well, I...no, n-never mind.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Probably should, um. I should probably save it for when we see each other in person.” Klavier leaned back, disappointed. “Anyway, you, uh, you should probably sleep now if you wanna be awake enough for work. Unless you take the day off like I did.”

“I might actually consider it,” Klavier chuckled. “And we’ll talk tomorrow, ja? Or later today for you, I suppose.”

“Definitely,” Apollo confirmed, nodding.

Something in Klavier’s eyes seemed to shift then, something Apollo couldn’t quite understand. It happened more and more with each passing day, with every conversation, and Apollo wasn’t sure if he was ready to figure out what it meant, if it meant something other than what he hoped it meant. “Du siehst wunderschön aus in diesem licht.”

Apollo blinked. “Sorry?”

“Never mind,” Klavier said, a sleepy grin stretching across his face. “Guten Morgen to you, Herr Forehead.”

“And goodnight to you, Gavin,” Apollo replied, waving briefly before ending the call. He sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing his tea and enjoying the sun’s warmth. Then, he stood, stretching his arms over his head, and smoothed out the creases in his pants and what was now his oversized purple hoodie. “Someday,” he mumbled to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning back in the direction of the bazaar. “Just...not yet.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fifth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the second of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, as I mentioned in the top notes, day seven is a sequel to this one, so look out for it! This is the second-longest fic of all my Klapollo Week fics, and for good reason - I could've easily included an endless number of random conversations and made this fic twice as long if it weren't for the posting deadline. One of my favorite things about writing Klapollo is their back-and-forth, so I love writing fics where they simply just...talk, and hang out. And I know it's definitely a concept that's been done before, but someday, I wanna write my own version of "Klavier visits Apollo in Khura'in and they fall (more) in love". That might end up being my longest Klapollo fic yet 😜

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #not sure if this one or day seven is my favorite #i definitely wanna write an extended version of this in the future

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prompts-of-a-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Dead Weights

Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader

You felt insecure about your recent acne breakout and worries what your boyfriend would think of it.

Tags : Hurt/Comfort, a little fluff and angst

Words: 1.5k

You remembered that day vividly, the scene never forgetting to replay in your mind every single night, as it was very important, and was one of the most beautiful things to have ever happened to you. Last night, a burst of joy and warmth escalated as the memory unfolds again.

°°°

You were nervous and fidgeting, not daring to look at the tall boy in front of you. You can hear his breathy, soft exhales in the silence of the moment. He hadn’t said anything, but you thought you knew what it was about.

There was no one around.

You’d left a piece of chocolate in his locker on Valentine’s Day, some weeks ago.

“(Y/n)…” he says, his voice low and as soft as a whisper. But there was a trembling vibrato in there. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, he was nervous. You caught it, but you didn’t know how to ease up the situation.

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

The tense, icy atmosphere melted and the hallway was burning with heat. The moment was foreseen, but it still caught you off guard. Fictional sweats ran down your face and palms, you felt so hot you would’ve taken your clothes off, if it weren’t for Todoroki standing in front of you.

The moment was thrilling for him, too. His arm trembled as he reach out to offer you a bouquet of flowers. “There’s chocolate in that too…”

Your cheeks tingled, as you could not remember the last time you interacted with Todoroki. Ever since you left the chocolate in his locker, you’ve been avoiding him, picking the furthest seat away in the cafeteria and joining different groups for school projects. Mustering up all your courage, you tilted your face and looked him in the eye. When both of your eyes met, he wavered a little, pulling the boquet, glancing to the side for a second and then looked back at you.

The details of how you replied to his request were a blur, perhaps from the tension of the moment. But you’d said yes, stuttering and stumbling over your words just to accept the request. When you made your point clear, he took a deep breath of relief.

His lips formed a simper as he offered you the bouquet.

“So do you want it or …”

You sprang up and snatched the bouquet from his hands. “Oh! Um, yeah, sure!”

A silence passed as neither of you knew what to say.

Todoroki took a glance at his watch and said, “So, um, I’ll pick you up at … seven? Where’ll you be by then?”

Your mind was at a blank for the moment, so it took you a while to process your calendar events.

“Is seven okay?” Todoroki leaned down, thinking you couldn’t hear him clearly.

“Seven’s … good. No, great! I promised Kirishima to help him force Bakugo into his suit. I’ll be by the dorms.”

Todoroki grinned. “Don’t you think Bakugo would already be asleep by then?” he let out a chuckle as he turned around. “Seven, then.” You watched him walk away.

The night of the prom was mesmerizing. You wished you could relive every single moment of it. The nervous-pouting you did in front of the mirror, wondering whether you look good or not. The moment you walked down the stairs, when you saw Todoroki in his grey-black suit, holding yet another bouquet. The hot-tense atmosphere, the loud party, the food, the drinks. It was all very memorable to you.

“You look very beautiful,” were the words from his mouth that will stick with you forever.

°°°

That’s why it was a shock to you when you woke up and saw that your reflection on the mirror had an acne breakout. It wasn’t that bad, but it’s not unnoticeable.

A friend of yours had horrible acne, yet you always told her that it didn’t matter to you, that you’d still be friends with her no matter what. Those words were true, but they didn’t apply to how you feel about yourself.

You felt gross. And really annoyed at yourself. You couldn’t stop touching your face, picking at the bumps on your face. You just wanted to scratch them all off, like picking fruit from a bush, until you were left with nothing but porcelain skin.

But of course, that wasn’t how it worked. Acne medications need some time to work. No matter what you do, they weren’t going to disappear overnight. And people would certainly take notice of them. They looked like little red bumps on your forehead and cheeks. As you caressed your face, you felt them, like little rocks on a formerly smooth pavement.

None of your classmate’s opinions would matter, but there was one person, just one person that you didn’t want to see you like this. The person that should be the one that knows you most. Your boyfriend, Shoto.

Tears started to form under your eyes, so you grabbed a tissue to wipe them off. Looking at the mirror brought nothing but self-loathe. You averted your eyes to your phone, only to see a good morning message from Shoto.

The visualization of how you would feel if Shoto looked at you right now and changed his whole perspective of you was too painful. You fear the rejection, the shame, the loss. The vulnerability you were in had he seen you like this made you uncomfortable, so you chose to close the door of possibilities and walk away, avoiding the encounter.

You’ve avoided him before, a long time ago, before you were dating, and now you’re doing well at it, having remembered the strategy from memory. Ignoring his texts, sitting far away in class and the cafeteria, trying not to bring any attention to yourself. He tried walking up to you, but you turned away and stroke up a conversation with Mina, asking her to accompany you to the bathroom.

Shoto, of course, felt bothered by your attitude, but he didn’t know if he’s done anything wrong. He tried asking you about it, but you’ve avoided him with expertise, as if you’d done it before. Did he miss an important thing? The thought grew like a burden on his mind, but like the cold-headed man he was, he stayed calm and thought of a solution.

Night fell, and the clock hit 10. You’d been sitting on the lounge sofa, chatting with the girls. You’d confided in them about your problem, but they were kind and supportive, telling you that how your skin looks doesn’t ward off your beauty.

Their words encouraged you a little bit, and you decided it was time for you to go to bed. But something stopped you before you entered your room.

Shoto was sitting in the hallway, by your door. He looked like he’s been waiting for a long time, his head hunched over his knees, back slouching on the wall.

You didn’t know how to get past him, surely the sound of the door creaking would have him bolt upright. But you didn’t even have the opportunity to test out that theory, because he lifted his head, making eye contact with you.

You froze, not knowing what to say as he rose up from his hunched seat, slowly walking towards you. In a deep, raspy voice he confronts you.

“What’s wrong?”

Tears started to form in your eyes. You weren’t ready for his reaction, you never will be. And you’d thought to at least save yourself the embarrassment by breaking up with him, but you’d never want to break his heart like that. And it would hurt you more if he accepted it like it was nothing and hung out with another girl.

Shoto rephrased his words. “…Is anything wrong?”

“Look at my skin!” you said, almost a yell, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your eyes.

He stepped forward to take a closer look, swiftly grabbing your hand so you couldn’t back away. He examined your face thoroughly, as there was a long pause before he said his next words.

“…Is it the acne?”

“See, even you notice it! That’s how big of a problem it is! I feel so fucking ugly.” You wiped away some of the tears, only for him to lift his hand and caress his finger across your cheek, sweeping off the ones that remained. You felt horrible as his finger brushed past the bumps on your skin, wishing it was smooth.

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true-” He grabbed and pulled you close, hugging you before you could finish your sentence.

“No. It doesn’t matter. Not to me. You’re still very beautiful, you’re as gorgeous as when I first met you, you’re just as pretty as you were at prom.”

Your body was pressed up so tightly against his that his soft voice sent vibrations throughout your bones. You could feel his heart beating in his chest, his breaths softly chilling the hairs on the back of your neck and shoulder.

He continued,

“So don’t feel bad about how you look to yourself, baby.”

You didn’t say anything, but you stopped sobbing. He tugged, pulling you away, and your eyes met again. He smiles and says,

“If anything, I’m the one who should be angry, because you really thought I’d be that shallow to judge you based on how your skin looks? You’re still fucking beautiful.”

#todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki fics #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fic #mha fic #todoroki headcanons #shoto

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hoekaashi · 4 years

Text

HQ Skincare hcs

a/n: i had too much fun with these hehe, hope you enjoy! onto my next series which will be longer than the skincare ones characters: kageyama, kenma, kuroo, oikawa, iwachan, atsumu, osamu warnings: none other than my language lol taglist: @babydabi @suckersuki @bakugoustanaccount @animoozies @haiikyuuns @depths-of-your-soul @differentballooncollection @waitforitillwritemywayout

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

⇾ growing up as in going to middle school with oikawa, he picked up some stuff ⇾ small things, like which cleanser is better for his skin, what type of skin he has, the difference between toner and essence, what daytime moisturizer he should use and what nighttime one ⇾ things like that ⇾ and even once he was no longer around oikawa, skincare became something that he enjoyed doing ⇾ he would look up new products on his own and he was always willing to try new products too ⇾ his teammates are always so awestruck by his dedication just to his skin ⇾ wouldn’t mind splurging every once in a while on a holy grail product, but everything else is pretty much drugstore stuff ⇾ until he started getting products sent to him in pr packages once bokuto and atsumu let it slip in an interview that kags has a dedicated routine ⇾ his 4 step routine turned into 12 very fast and unfortunately for him, half the time he doesn’t know what he’s doing and ends up bothering oikawa about it

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ he’s a rich bitch and it shows ⇾ he gets a facial two to three times a month, doesn’t care that he shouldn’t get them too frequently ⇾ his mentality is that if he’s not washing his face every day, it’s okay for him to get facials more frequently ⇾ he just really enjoys the massages they give him, but after learning that he doesn’t do anything at home to take care of his skin, they make him a list of products to use and create an entire daytime and nighttime routine for him ⇾ and because he can, he buys the fancy shmancy products that are overpriced ⇾ his favorite part of the routine is putting a cold sheet mask on his face and letting it marinate on his skin ⇾ he ends up buying a beauty fridge and stocking it up with mostly sheet masks ⇾ but because he doesn’t want to be wasteful, he ends up learning how to recycle them properly along with how to make his own sheet masks ⇾ his facialist starts crying when she finds out that he’s actually taking care of his skin now

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally didn’t do shit for his face ⇾ but as he got older, he would look into ingredients more - not only with what he was putting in his body, but also on it ⇾ around his last year of high school, he decided to start a routine but it wasn’t anything too fancy ⇾ proper face wash and a moisturizer ⇾ slowly he started to build it more looking into the benefits of using toners and the difference between fermented products and regular ones ⇾ you can pry nerdy science kuroo from my cold dead hands but rigor mortis will make that even harder for you to do haha ⇾ once he got his fancy schmancy job, he had the money to splurge on skincare so not only did he get products that were good for him, he also got the expensive ass ones that typical people would save up for and make it last way past the expiration date ⇾ kenma got him hooked on sheet masks ⇾ he has a mini fridge in his office and whenever he’s stressed or just super tired, he’ll pop one on with some eye patches and just take a 10-20 minute nap in his chair ⇾ even though he’s not very active on social media (most of his followers are people who found him through kenma), he will still email companies and ask them to add him to his pr list ⇾ will bug kenma whenever he isn’t added to the pr list

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ this bitch has a full 12 step routine that he perfected at a young age because he wanted to preserve his youth ⇾ ”why do you wait until you start aging to use anti-aging products? if i start at a young age, i’ll never get wrinkles and people will forever think i’m 20 years old” ⇾ rotates out one product whenever it finishes so his skin doesn’t get used to it ⇾ takes pride in his looks so he would never hesitate to drop money on a product that he knows works ⇾ but on the other side, he also doesn’t mind drugstore products if they do a bomb ass job too ⇾ tried to change the other seijoh third years to have better routines and they all either ignored him or assaulted him with body wash bottles or anything else laying around ⇾ everything is displayed in his bathroom in an aesthetic way ⇾ easily notices if even one product is off ⇾ has a travel sized version of his entire routine and it doesn’t matter if he’s away from his place for even one day/night, he will take the entire thing with him wherever he’s going ⇾ has never missed a single day of his routine which is why iwa went through his acne phase through puberty and oikawa didn’t he still holds it against him to this day

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally uses bar soap to wash his face and moisturizes with coco butter BODY LOTION ⇾ oikawa has a heart attack whenever he sees him do this and proceeds with his cardiac arrest when iwa tells him to fuck off ⇾ wanted to punch oikawa in the face whenever he teased him about not having breakouts since he took care of his skin while they were growing up, but once puberty was done and his hormones were balanced, he never saw another pimple on his face again ⇾ will go to grave without a soul knowing, but his acne pissed him off so much he actually bought products to treat it ⇾ advocate for Proactiv MD ⇾ eventually grew out of his bad habits with skincare but still doesn’t do anything more than face wash, toner, and moisturizer ⇾ will never spend more than 25 bucks on a single product. ever. ⇾ enjoys how oikawa gets jealous knowing that he does the bare minimum and his skin looks as great as it does ⇾ quietly thanks his parents for their good genes

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ aha ha ha he’s awful ⇾ rinses his face with water after practice, and if he’s showering, he’ll use his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner to wash his face ⇾ complains about the weird coating it leaves on his face and when osamu tells him it’s because hair products aren’t for his face, he just says it’s extra moisturizing and walks away ⇾ wanna know why he copied osamu’s hairstyle in high school? it’s because his greasy ass forehead was covered in acne from the sweat, clogged pores, and lack of proper hygiene ⇾ in desperation, he stole osamu’s skincare products and used it to clear up his forehead their last year of high school ⇾ for once in his life, osamu let him get away with it because he was tired of hearing his brother complain about his skin ⇾ his patience ran out when he saw his brother using coconut oil on his skin - the kind you use for cooking ⇾ atsumu sat through three hours of his brother telling him what was good for his skin and what was bad - coconut oil was bad especially for his oily face ⇾ as an adult though, he has the money to spare to get facials and visit a dermatologist regularly ⇾ ironically became the face of a new skincare line and osamu never laughed harder when he saw the ads

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ not super involved as a teenager but knows what products work for him and what don’t ⇾ definitely reads the ingredients and knows the good stuff from the bad stuff ⇾ doesn’t mind splurging on a product or two in high school, but nothing more than that he’d rather spend his money on food ⇾ as an adult it’s up to his mood on whether he would drop money for skincare or not ⇾ he enjoys getting microdermabrasion facials and gets one every 6-8 weeks to help his skin cell turnover rate ⇾ never misses his nighttime routine but not because he’s dedicated to his skin, but because he uses the time to relax before bed and just unwind ⇾ will have either relaxing music playing or complete silence as he does his routine - do NOT talk to him while he’s doing this though it’s his ‘me’ time just like when he works in the kitchen but that’s neither here nor there he needs a lot of ‘me’ time ⇾ if he can’t go to his facial, he will be working in the kitchen with a headband pushing his hair back and sheet mask on ⇾ has an anonymous blog where he rates and reviews new skincare products that’s pretty popular

#kageyama tobio #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tōru #iwaizumi hajime #miya atsumu #miya osamu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu hcs #hq hcs

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zi-i-think · 4 years

Text

17 | Let's Refrain from Throwing Anything at Anyone, Please

Pairing: Zuko x Ama (OC)

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 6200+

Masterlist

.☽☼☾.

~ Ama ☾ ~

The only source of light were the two candles in my room, on my bed stand. And let me tell you, the dusky setting did not help the overly cautious and alert war veterans that were Zuko and I. I sat up in the bed, slowly slipping my legs over the side to prepare for an attack while Zuko was at the door. I had no clue who was on the other side. At this hour especially, it was a bit frightening.

Was it Suh? Was she here to finish me off? My mind jumped to a terrifying conclusion. My heartbeat picked up and my jaw clenched. I held a tight breath as Zuko carefully twisted the doorknob and opened the door enough to just see who it was.

“What are you doing here?” The all too familiar voice of my brother asked Zuko. I let out my breath and almost wanted to laugh loudly at myself for getting so worked up. “Ama!” Sokka noticed me awake and sitting up. He excitedly sprinted over at full speed with the biggest grin. I barely had time to react and could only hold my arms out defensively when he practically jumped on me, pulling me into a tight hug.

Aching pain shot through my body at both the sudden movement and his strong arms crushing. “Ow. Sokka. That hurts.” I grumbled through my teeth. In the back of my mind, I scolded myself. Didn’t seem to mind the pain a few moments ago.

My brother immediately pulled away, and yet again, his jolting movements to push himself off me only hurt me more and I groaned lightly. “Sorry.” He apologized with an apprehensive side smile. He kept his hands on my shoulders, his eyes studying me like I was some sort of extraordinary creature. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” Even though he used his humorous expression, I still saw a tear forming in his eye.

“Me? An idiot?” I faked a bewildered tone and dramatically placed a fanned hand over my chest. “I believe a proper description would be an unimaginably attractive and remarkable nincompoop.”

Sokka scoffed and shook his head at me. “She’s making jokes. Of course, she is.” He mumbled to himself, etched with disbelief, amusement, and a tinge of disappointment. “You had us all worried. Katara and Aang even postponed their honeymoon.”

“What?” My shoulder slumped and I frowned. “They were so excited for Ember Island. They didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, okay. So the next time someone almost permanently departs from the living, everyone else should just go out and enjoy themselves.” My brother crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a chiding look.

My brother was naturally a grumpy, glass-half-empty kinda guy. I was used to his little taunts and nonsense scoldings, but there was always some humor laced in everything he’d say. But right now, there was none of that. He showed nothing but deep concern. It was starting to anchor me to the gravity of my situation. How I quite literally almost died.

My face softened but the rest of my body tensed up. I inhaled deeply, internally hoping that the subject changed quickly.

Luckily, Zuko was still in the room. With his arms crossed and a perplexed frown, he approached the bed but stood beside us while my brother and I were still seated on the side. “Sokka, what are you doing up?” He redirected the conversation. I wasn’t sure if it was because he saw my dejected look or because he was just curious as to why Sokka was here.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Sokka shrugged. “Spent most of the night tossing and turning. Then I heard some talking in here, thought my big sister had finally woken up.” He ruffled my hair. I just rolled my eyes at him and raked my fingers through my smooth hair. Katara must have made sure I was cleaned and well taken care of. “What about you, mister Fire Lord? What are you doing up? Specifically in my sister’s room.”

Zuko and I glanced at each other. His face flushed nervously and he opened his mouth unsurely. “Uh… just talking,” Zuko answered stiffly. I wanted to slap my own forehead at him. This gorgeous buffoon.

“How convincing.” Sokka mumbled, glancing away from Zuko and I in disgust. His mind probably just went to the worst possible thought.

“Not like that. What I mean to say is that we were just discussing things and then you came in-” Zuko rubbed the back of his neck as he talked quickly.

“I don’t need to know.” Sokka interrupted him, his hand out in between him and Zuko. I chuckled lightly at the interaction. “Anyways, I should go get Katara and the others! They’ll be so happy to know that you’re awake.” My brother excitedly jumped up from the bed.

My hand immediately grabbed his wrist, stopping him from walking away. “Sokka, no.” My firm tone made him look at me with confusion. “Let them sleep, I’ll see them tomorrow and can get the rundown of everything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, they won’t mind.” He shrugged and tried to leave again. But my grip only got tighter. Sokka wasn’t fighting against my hold, afraid that he’d hurt me.

“Please, Sokka. Just don’t tell anyone I’m awake till tomorrow.” I didn’t want to, but my voice was small and begging. I hated it. And I hated the pitiful look my brother was giving me.

He nodded quietly and when my grip softened he slipped his hand away. “Fine. But if Katara complains, you’re to blame.”

“I can handle that.” I forced a small smile on my lips. I’d rather deal with her scolding than to have to deal with so many people in my room at the moment.

Tapping Zuko’s bicep, Sokka cocked his head towards the door and asked “You coming?”

“In a minute,” Zuko replied. His focus was on me while I placed with my fingernails. Sokka looked like he wanted to say something but instead decided against it. Looked between Zuko and me skeptically while he backed away towards the door without another word. Once the door was shut, Zuko sat down next to me, placing his rough hand over mine, effectively making me stop fidgeting. “What is it?” He asked softly, rubbing small circles on the top of my hand.

“What do you mean?” I asked back, pretending to be absolutely clueless.

“I saw the way you tensed up. How you’re refusing to see anyone. You can talk to me, you know?” His other hand came up to cup my cheek. I nodded gently, fluttered my eyes closed, and leaned into his hand affectionately, adoring the warmth that radiated from his fingertips.

It was a gift and a curse really. How he was able to read me like that. On one hand, it could push me to seek help or to talk it out. But that’s also why it was a curse. I wasn’t ready to talk about what I was feeling. I wasn’t even sure what it was myself.

“I know. Honestly, I just need a moment to myself. If you don’t mind.” I sighed, opening my eyes to directly see Zuko stiffen slightly.

He nodded rapidly. “Yeah, whatever you need.” He stood up, smoothening out his red tunic from earlier wrinkles. I smiled, gazing at him as he nervously did that. No matter how suave he got, there was still a tiny bit of that awkward part of him that I fell in love with all those years ago. Leaning down with a soft smirk he pressed a delicate kiss on my forehead. “Please don’t hesitate to come to talk to me when you need it.” Hid lips grazed over my skin delicately while he spoke, barely hovering over my forehead.

I bit my bottom lip. My heart fluttered at his touch and his vocal expression to be there for me. It was ironic how a few years ago the roles were reversed. “Alright,” I whispered. His tender touch left me entirely, suddenly making me feel so cold. He walked away backward half the way out, keeping a warm gaze on me the entire time before he was out the door.

I was left completely alone. In a dimly lit room. With just my thoughts. A shaky breath escaped me. It’s been itching to come out since I woke up. I shut my eyes tightly and took a deep, quivering breath in.

I… died. But how was I still here? I wanted to ask, but that would mean having to talk about it. Call me selfish, but I’d prefer not to talk about how I died and then was revived only minutes after waking up. Not if I was only just grasping the fact.

My inhales and exhales went on for a while. Until I realized I needed to get out of this bed. Swinging my legs over the side, I stood up. But, I wasn’t prepared to put so much weight on my legs, and stumbled back on to the mattress. I moaned in discomfort. My sore muscles ached everywhere. Like they were being pulled and tugged in every direction. Once the pain subsided, I stood back up, more slowly than last time, and carefully made my way to my bathroom.

A hot bath was just what I needed. I was only in my nightgown. Making it simple to painlessly slipped it over my head and discard it on the floor. Standing there, completely bare and in front of a large mirror, I felt vulnerable.

Even with my clothing on, a person could tell that I was toned. I wasn’t overly muscular, but not scrawny. Overall I looked healthy. But once the layers of clothing were removed, my scars were revealed. The unhealed scabs from when I was a kid, the training mishaps, the acne scars on my back. And now, two new ones decorated my skin. On my upper abdomen, a light pink and sharp oval scar painted my skin. And the second was on the opposite side of my body, on my back.

I had no problem with scars. I liked to think that they told stories about people, whether good or bad. And sometimes they showcased just how beautiful a person was. Zuko’s scar was a prime example. What once made him feel disgraced and like a failure now meant more. It showed how he was able to change into a better man and to lead the world into a new era. He took his father’s horrific mutilation and turned it into a symbol of who he was. It was beautiful in my eyes.

But the new one in the mirror… It made my stomach drop. My fingers hesitantly tracing over the soft skin. The memory of the sword sticking through my body flashed in the mirror. The feeling of blood sticking my clothing to my skin. The knowledge that I was dying and didn’t want to. Trying so desperately to stay alive.

A wave of lightheadedness flooded me. I sank backwards, gripping the side of the bathtub to steady myself. The sound of running water got louder and louder as the truth settled in.

I died.

.☽☼☾.

Just as expected, my room was crowded the very next morning. Extra chairs had to be moved in to provide seating for everyone who was deemed useful to help tell the story of the other night and to discuss the situation at hand. I was almost completely clueless. I still didn’t know how I was alive. I didn’t know what happened to Suh or Azula. There were so many questions and even more sub questions to them. But, I supposed they would all be answered in a minute.

I sat in my bed, leaning my back against multiple pillows while I was anxiously waiting for everyone to get here. Currently, the only people missing were Zuko and Aang. The others made small talk, their voices low like how one would speak at a hospital.

“Are you comfortable?” Katara asked me quietly, placing a soft hand over mine.

I nodded at her with a small smile. “Yes, Kat. I’m comfortable. But we really didn’t have to host a meeting in my room.” I raised a half-amused brow at her.

My sister shrugged her shoulders and avoided eye contact with me. “Just being precautionary.” She mumbled, pulling away from me to stand comfortably, with her arms crossed and leaning on one leg.

A quiet and short knock at the door resonated through the room, Letting us know that either Aang or Zuko was here. Without waiting for a response to come in, the door opened and they both entered. Aang went straight to Katara while Zuko strolled behind him, but instead was trying to get to me. Flashing me a handsome smile and carrying a cup of tea.

Stopping next to Katara, he handed me the ceramic, blue accented cup. “Uncle Iroh made it for you.” He told me. Smiling widely, I gladly took the drink. The heat of it almost instantaneously warmed my hands and the herbal aroma of it gave me instant comfort.

A pleasant sigh left my lips. “He didn’t have to, but I’m not complaining,” I commented as the cup came up to my lips for a sip.

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Aang got right down to business, clasping his hands together. “We should probably address… everything.” Zuko backed up to the last seat available. It was further from me than I’d like, but it was probably best for Katara to be directly next to me, anyways.

“Yes. I need to know everything that happened.” I enthusiastically agreed. Pushing away the growing feeling of anxiety. It felt like a thick bubble was growing in my chest, making it difficult to pace my breathing. But I managed to play off like nothing was wrong. Keeping a curious expression and keeping an eye on Aang, letting him know that I was listening.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll start with when you threw Azula out of the venue.” Aang’s voice was etched with wariness. Like he was walking on eggshells.

“Honestly, if anything good came out of that night, it was watching Azula get thrown out of the window.” Sokka chuckled. Breaking some of the uneasy tension of the room.

“Other than your sister getting married?” Katara refuted. Her eyes narrowed at our brother and crossed her arms over her chest like she was challenging him.

“Ohhh.” My voice progressively got higher while I brought my tea up to drink again.

“Okay, let me backtrack. It was one of the good things that came out of that night.” Katara huffed at her brother’s poor attempt to save his ass. But she didn’t push it any further.

Aang cleared his throat, getting the attention back. “Moving on. After you went after Azula, the rest of us were left with the others working with Azula. We were able to get most of them outside so that the guests wouldn’t be in as much danger.”

“Were there a lot of them?” I interrupted. Remembering that I didn’t get a good look at exactly how many people Azula recruited. My focus was solely on her. Seeing nothing but red at the time.

Aang shrugged. “We couldn’t get an accurate count. Maybe 30 or so.”

“We have 26 of them in custody, but we’re almost positive that some of them were able to escape,” Sokka added, his humorous personality was put aside to join in on the seriousness of the situation.

The room got silent; perhaps one of the oddest things for this particular group of friends. They were dancing around anything that was related to my death. Like I’d crack at any moment. I realized that I’d need to push them a bit in order to have my questions answered rather than just get them told to me naturally. “Okay, so what about Suh? Was she apprehended?”

“Suh escaped,” Zuko answered me regrettably while no one else wanted to. He hunched over in his seat, leaning his elbows on his thighs and intertwining his fingers.

I held my breath for a moment. On the exterior, I nodded understandably and looked composed. But on the interior, I was stiffening. Fear engulfed me at this new knowledge. The woman that I simply thought was just a weasel snake and posed no real threat, was now someone who’s name made me quiver.

“Cool cool cool,” I responded while softly nodding my head. “Any leads on where she might be?”

A loud and irritated huff came from Toph as the woman lounged in her chair like she had no care in the world. “Nope. The wench disappeared in the snow like the coward she is.”

“She could be on a boat to the Fire Nation or maybe even the Earth Kingdom for all we know,” Sokka added in exasperation. His jaw clenched slightly and his hand ran through his loose hair. Suki took notice in his annoyance, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

My eyebrows furrowed as another question came up. “Why didn’t anyone go after her?” I tried to hide the bothered, hurt tone in my voice, but it still spilled ever so slightly.

“We were kind of preoccupied. Ya know with you dying and 300 plus guests to protect.” Katara looked at me with her eyes narrowed and a frown in a baffled expression.

“Alright, so what are we doing to find her then?” I stressed. My shoulders hardened and my face twisted in frustration.

“We have guards placed all around the South Pole on the lookout for her and we’ve sent out messages to the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom that she is to be brought into custody,” Sokka answered.

My first instinct to shout at them, tell them that’s not enough. But reason kept me from doing that. Sokka was good at planning and organizing things like these. I trust that he knows what he’s doing. “And Azula?” I moved on. The room was quiet again. “Oh, for the love of Tui and La, can you all please stop dancing around each subject and just tell me everything,” I grumbled a bit too angrily.

“Ama…” My sister softly started, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Do you need a minute, we can discuss this later-”

“No! I don’t want to discuss this later.” I exclaimed in exasperation. “I died! Okay! Moving on. Give me the rundown, we figure out the next steps and move on with our lives. The sooner this conversation happens, the sooner that can happen.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little… emotional.” Commented Aang in a nervous matter, noting my paler than usual complexion.

“For once, I agree with Twinkle Toes. Ama, you’re acting differently and it’s actually kind of concerning.” Toph repositioned herself in her seat, sitting up more intensively.

I composed myself quickly, burying the boiling anxiety deep inside. “Yes, I’m sure,” I answered calmly, with a light smile. Doing my best to act like I normally would.

Everyone in the room looked a little hesitant, sneaking quick and confused glances at each other. “Alright.” Aang sighed. “Well, Azula’s currently locked up. She’s been interrogated and everything. There’s just one thing we don’t know.”

“What did you say to her?” Zuko finished. His brow curving upwards slightly, matched with a curious but hopeful glint in his eye.

“What do you mean?” My face twisted and my head tilted in confusion.

“Ama, Azula was the one who saved your life,” Katara informed me smoothly, also giving me an inquisitive look.

My jaw fell and my eyes widened. “Azula saved me?” I repeated in a whisper; more to myself than to anyone else. “How?”

Katara sat next to me on the bed, placing her hand over mine. “I was able to heal your wound after you died, but Azula was somehow able to use electricity to restart your heart. Bringing you back to life.”

"I always knew there was a soft side to her." Ty lee commented quietly. She was gazing at the floor in deep thought. Her ever so chipper smile was absent from her expression and instead looked glum and distressed.

"But that doesn't excuse everything she's done," Mai added, louder than Ty Lee, and with more anger and hurt. Her lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed. "Ama, you’re the last person who needs to place your vote in what to do with her. Because someone," she glared at Zuko. "Still hasn't made any definite decisions on whether to do the reasonable thing and put her in an isolated prison or some other absurd idea.”

“I don’t want to do anything drastic just yet,” Zuko spoke with a grumble like he’s explained that a thousand times before. Straightening up in his seat in defense.

“Killing her would be drastic, not throwing her in jail. But then again, it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it.” Toph commented in a mumble.

“How is making Azula pay for her crimes drastic?” Sokka embitterly and loudly wondered. “Not only did she have people murdered, but she also committed crimes against the Fire Nation. Against you, Zuko.”

“Azula didn’t have anyone killed.” I corrected him. Everyone looked at me with worry. To they’re knowledge, Azula ordered for her henchmen to murder my friends and Mulan. And while it was her associate, Suh, who tried to kill me. I was almost positive that Azula didn’t really want anyone dead. “I need to talk to Azula,” I said suddenly, throwing my legs over the side of the bed to get up and leave.

Katara immediately stood up as well, placing her hands on my shoulders to keep me on the bed. “Ama, you need to rest!” She forcefully told me.

“I slept for like 2 days, I don’t need rest.” I countered matter of factly, swiping her hands off my shoulders. I would only admit to myself that my arms ached at the movement. But my stubbornness kept me going and I tried to stand up.

Yet again, my sister forced me to sit down again. “Yes, you do. Your wound might be healed, but we really don’t know how your body is. After all, you were… dead,” She hesitated to say the word. “For a good few minutes.”

“You weren’t like this when Aang woke up after he died.” I pointed out, motioning my hand to her husband and looked over at him. The poor man looked so terrified in his current position. Aang was great at solving problems, being the Avatar and all, but he seemed to have no clue how to help solve this particular debacle between his wife and her headstrong sister. “Sorry to use you as an example, Aang. But your the only other person I know who’s died and came back to life so-”

“Will you stop treating this like dying and coming back to life is something normal.” Katara tensely sucked in a breath and shook her head at me. She may have just exploded right then and there based on how her body shook in frustration and the vein that almost popped out of her forehead.

“Well, it has happened twice in Team Avatar,” I commented, bouncing my brows and shrugging nonchalantly.

Everyone in the room collectively sighed. They were all so in sync I might have thought it was planned. Katara pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tightly, her other hand resting on her hip. “Snowcone, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” I heard Toph sigh deeply. I kept my eyes on my sister, already knowing she had something to say.

"First.” She started, now crossing her arms and giving me a stern look. “Aang was in a coma for weeks in comparison to you waking up after two days. Second. We had Spirit Water. It works and we knew it. We don’t know anything about how the lightning worked or how your body is reacting. You can’t just jump up, go on runs, or in general just use your body like you normally would.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. “I can’t train?” I worried. My breathing was already starting to get irregular and heavy. Beating the absolute shit out of training dummies was my favorite and reliable way to relieve stress. It kept me active and alert. Without it, I was left with what? I didn’t even know.

“Give your body time.” My sister’s voice was comforting and her hands came up to rub the sides of my arms. The simultaneous up and down motion and the small circles she made with her thumb was enough to calm me down before I started to get too emotional. “For now just go on walks, rest more often. Don’t push yourself physically.”

“Fine.” I let out an exasperated sigh and gave my sister a heavy expression. “But, I still need to talk to Azula, though.”

“Why?” Mai wondered dully, but behind her dank tone and her languid face, there was a deep dislike for Azula. Maybe even hatred. I understood why. It was Azula who had manipulated her father to have her brother and many other kids kidnapped. In their childhood, it was Azula who’d tormented her friends.

I definitely still held hatred for the malicious woman. But the other night I saw something else too. A lost woman who had no one to turn to. Guilt was consuming her. So much so that she planned an elaborate suicide attempt. I needed to know more. Especially since she saved my life. “She said something the other night. I just need to know what she meant.” I told them the bare minimum. Because Azula said a lot of things. There were some things she said that were more concerning than others. But overall, her entire plot was loosely lined up. There were gaps that needed to be filled and actions that needed justifications. “After all, if it weren’t for her I wouldn’t even be here right now.”

Toph giggled loudly, shaking her head and resting her forehead on her hand. “If you think Azula is capable of some sort of redemption, you're even more blind than I am.”

Furrowing my brows and crossing my arms over my chest. “I never said that!” And with a light shrug and my eyes softening, I avoided making eye contact with anyone as I focused my gaze at the still-hot tea while I grabbed it off the bedside table. “But perhaps there may some a smidge of hope that-”

“Ama!” Katara interrupted, her eyes staring down at me with concern and her tone a tad bit high-pitched like she was offended by my words. “After everything she’s done in the war, crashing my wedding, she had Mulan killed! She’s also responsible for you dying!”

“She had my brother kidnapped!” Mai added. This time she wasn’t expressionless when she looked at me. Her lips curved down and slightly parted in disgust, her brows curved up like she was puzzled. This may have been one of the few times I’ve seen her express multiple emotions at once.

“Suh attempted murder, not Azula. And it was Azula who saved my life!” I defended the woman who I never thought I’d advocate for. “As for everything she’s done years ago, she was still a teenager. At her age, Zuko was still a bratty and spoiled prince. She just didn’t have the guidance he did with Iroh.” I scanned the room. Each person had their own expression. Whether it be contemplative, like Aang, or irritated, like Mai.

There was only one person who I couldn’t read. Zuko.

The Fire Lord sat at the edge of his seat, back into his hunched over position. His elbows rested on his knees and his chin rested on his intertwined hands. His eyes were kept on me and when I looked over, our eyes met. He didn’t look expressionless or dull. Maybe calm. Maybe hiding disgust. Maybe something else.

My sister's long, tired sigh broke the silence. My eyes tore from Zuko’s to give Katara my attention. “Well, I suppose if you need to talk to Azula, I’m okay with it.” She caved. “But not now. This morning has been draining enough and you need to rest.” I rolled my eyes and huffed at that. But if I argued against her, I don’t know if she’d still clear me to even leave the room. “If everyone else is okay with it, you can go after lunch.”

I looked towards the group with begging, hopeful eyes. “I think it’s a good idea to talk to her.” Aang nodded, giving me a kind smile.

“Fine.” Sokka irritatedly answered, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. “I’ll be ready to say ‘I told you so’ when the time comes.”

“Mai?” I shrugged my shoulders curiously at her.

The reserved woman let out a long sigh and her long, black nails tapped the armrest while she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. As long as you’re just talking and not pardoning her for all the crimes she’s committed.”

“Of course not, Mai,” I assured her. I may have been able to give Azula a chance at redemption, but no way was I about to forget everything she’s done. From tracking down Aang and the rest of the team to ruining Katara’s special day, Azula was guilty. Yet despite all of that, I wanted — no — needed an explanation from her. To hear Azula express her intentions in full detail.

Ty Lee jolted out of her seat, her chair made a painfully cringing screech as it rubbed against the floor. “Excuse me for a moment.” She said meekly, avoiding all eye contact while she walked towards the door. Just before stepping out, she looked over her shoulder. “And I think talking to Azula is a great place to start.” She quietly made her input and left the room.

Everyone stared at the closed door in surprise. Ty Lee was a small person with a big personality. To see her act so shy was completely out of character. Something was bothering her. And it had to do with Azula. But what? That was the question. Ty Lee adored the firebender since they were kids. She valued her relationships with others wholeheartedly. But Azula betrayed that friendship long ago. I wondered what Ty Lee was feeling. Seeing her old friend again. It must have taken a toll on her just like on everyone else.

Mai worryingly stood up moments after Ty Lee left. “I’ll go see if she's okay.” She mumbled hastily, walking the steps Ty Lee took out the door.

“Well that was weird.” Toph commented, bouncing her eyebrows and then slouched in her seat. “I suppose you need my blessing now. Sure, go talk to the crazy lady. Tell her ‘Toph sends her regards’ and throw a rock at her for me, would ya?”

I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of chucking a rock at Azula. “Tempting, but I think she’d be less inclined to talk to me if I threw a rock at her.” I replied while my laughter died down.

“Do it after.” Toph shrugged, completely unbothered.

Suki giggled slightly and Sokka snorted a laugh, looking at the ceiling dreamily. “That would be a sight.”

“Let’s refrain from throwing anything at anyone, please.” Katara sighed and rolled her eyes. “Zuko, Suki. We’ve still yet to hear from you guys.”

“You guys know me.” Suki shrugged her shoulders, giving us all a thin smile. “If taking to Azula is the best course of action for the time being, I’m okay with it.”

All eyes were now on Zuko. He kept his eyes on me, rather than paying anyone else any attention. A small smile played on his lips. “Azula is my sister. I know that what she’s done is inexcusable, but I’d like a more in depth explanation from her. So yeah. I think you should go.” His eyes flickered to his hands and then back at me. He wanted to say something else, I knew it. Maybe it was the fact that there were still so many of us in one room or maybe he was still mulling it over. Either way, he held back. And left his words at that.

“Alright then. I guess, it’s settled. Ama talks to Azula later today and a definite decision on what happens to her will come short after.” Katara concluded the conversation. “Did we miss anything? Is there anything else we need to know?” She pondered glancing at everyone.

My lips parted slightly. Do I mention that I bloodbended the other night? Without the full moon? Yes, it was important information, but it still felt so surreal to me. And no one really needed to know about it, right? It’s not like I’d use it ever again. But then again. The rush I felt when I had full control over someone else. It was exhilarating. Made me feel powerful. But I shouldn’t feel that way. It was a horrid thing to do. The other person went through excruciating pain. But I still revealed the feeling I got. Would the others judge me for it? No one would hate me for bloodbending, I knew that much. But for enjoying it…

“Nothing? Okay, good.” Katara spoke before I even had the chance to speak. I let out a relieved sigh. I didn’t have to come clean about anything just yet. “Alright everyone, out. Ama needs to rest.” I rolled my eyes in a playful tone at her overcautious procedures. But I appreciated it deeply.

Zuko took the few steps to the side of the bed, beside me, with a gentle smile. I beamed at him as the tall man leaned down, pressing a short and simple kiss on my lips. “I’ll come by for lunch.” He told me, pulling away from me.

“Would you? I hate eating alone.” My fingers intertwined together and went under my chin as I looked up at him with begging eyes.

He chuckled lightly at me, never letting his eyes leave mine. “Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I’ll see you soon.” I could hardly contain my smile at the promise. Walking around the bed, Zuko headed to the door, where everyone else had been watching with wide eyes, smirks, or grins.

Katara’s jaw was dropped, her eyes flickering between Zuko and I as a light blush found my cheeks and the Fire Lord grinned. “Haha! I knew it!” Suki triumphantly punched her fist in the air.

“Next time wait until we leave the room.” I heard Toph grumbled, following Suki out.

Katara’s surprise face morphed, and she now looked at us with amusement. “Maybe a warning next time you guys get back together.” My sister giggled. “Was not expecting that.”

Zuko just shrugged at her and then looked over his shoulder to wink at me before he walked out the door. Aang also chuckled at the scene, but right before he stepped out with everyone else be pause. “Actually.” He mumbled and then looked over at me with his brows slightly furrowed. “Ama, may I talk with you for a minute. Won’t last long.”

“Yeah, of course.” I smiled at him positively. The door closed behind him as he walked over to the stop that Katara spent most of the meeting.

His grey eyes and smile were soft as he looked down at my sitting figure. “I just want to say how much I admire your ability to try and give Azula a chance to change. I know it’s hard given everything she’s done. But it shows a lot of growth on your part.”

“Thank you, Aang.” I nodded appreciatively. “Means a lot coming from you.”

“As the Avatar, I know.” He grinned proudly.

I huffed a laugh and shook my head, “As a part of the family.”

Aang’s face turned crimson. “I’m family?” He goggled, his smile only getting wider.

“Aang.” I chuckled, lightly punching his arm to avoid hurting myself. “You’ve been family for years.”

“Yeah, but now it just means more.” He rugged the back of his neck, still as red as a tomato. “Anyways, I’ll let you get some more rest. And just let me know if you need anyone to talk to. Like you said before, I’m the only one who’s died and come back to life before.”

I bounced my eyebrows at the reminder, giving him a forced, flat smile. “I’ll keep it in mind, Aang.” I told him.

Flashing me one more smile, the Avatar left the room. Leaving me alone. At least, until noon. Biting my bottom lip, I felt my face heat up at the thought of Zuko coming in later for lunch. Our friends just found out we’re back together and we’ve made it pretty clear that our old feelings are back. And while Suh was still out there, she was no longer a part of the equation. There’s nothing stopping us from being together.

.☽☼☾.

Here she is! College is kind of a pain. I really tried to post last week but I got a lot of wok and given that I haven't done schoolwork in months, it's been rough. Let me know what you guys think! I love feedback and constructive criticism. Please don't be shy!

Hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

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maknaesdancersrappers · 5 years

Text

eating for two.

special chapter to the baby dont stop series

warning/s: suggestive (mutual masturbation)

It’s been a year and a half of being married the one and only love of your life and it’s been nothing but a dream come true.

Both of you fell into a routine of waking up together, Taeyong would cook breakfast for both of you while you take a shower. Eating together and then he takes his turn in the bathroom while you do the dishes.

You work at the same company; the same nine-to-five office job, but at just different departments. After work and going home, you’re in charge of dinner and he’ll be the one to clean up.

And of course, depending on how draining the day was, you end the night by making love; relieving each other of the stress from work, reminding each other of your love, or as you’re secretly hoping for; making a baby.

Taeyong is in no rush to have a kid, and you’re not either, but it would be nice to have a mini you and/or mini him running around soon. You’ve been long off your birth control and investing in a lot of skincare to keep your hormonal acne in check when your period comes around. At one point, you’re starting to think one of you could be infertile at how you’re still not able to get pregnant. You even made sure to go rounds after rounds on the day you’re period tracker tells you you’re on your ovulation period.

And then it happens.

One early morning, you woke up feeling sick and ran to bathroom to throw up. You don’t want to jump to conclusions, but as you’re trying to find reasons as to why you’re heaving the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl, you just couldn’t think of any. Your period isn’t due until next week either.

Taeyong was at a small gathering last night with friends and had a drink too many that he’s completely wiped out; he didn’t even budge when you threw his arm off of you to run to the bathroom. As you tuck yourself back in his arms, you decide not to tell him first, just in case it was a false alarm.

You’re incredibly careful at purchasing multiple pregnancy tests and hiding them where he doesn’t usually check - which is almost close to impossible because he does a lot of cleaning around the house, too, so you couldn’t store it away in the storage cabinet. You would hide it where you keep your pads and tampons, but it’s beside the hair dryer both of you use from time to time. You ended up hiding it in your underwear drawer because you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have some weird kink with panties that makes him go through them or sniff them or anything. hopefully

Another thing you had to worry about was how you were going to take the tests and wait for the results without Taeyong wondering why you’re taking too long in the bathroom. Luckily for you, he was chosen by his department head to accompany him to an out of town trip. It was a an overnight trip but it’s more than enough for you to take the tests.

“Have a safe trip, baby,” You adjust your purse on your arm before kissing his cheek. It was Friday night and they were traveling tonight to attend the conference tomorrow noon instead of waiting for the wee hours of the morning to set off.

Taeyong kisses you back on your forehead after he hands you the car keys. “You, too. Double check the locks before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, dad.” You roll your eyes, but you almost blush because he could very well be one in a few months.

“You’ll be gone for a day, Lee. We’ll be back by the evening.” His department head, Mr. Shim Changmin, approaches both of you. “It’s good to have a little solo time, too, in marriages.”

You bow your head at him as he’s still one of your superiors. “Of course. I’ll be maximizing my ‘me time’ this weekend.”

“I got you a few bath bombs to try.” Taeyong informs you, running his hand down your back. “They’re in the cabinet below the sink.”

“Aw, thanks.” You debate for a second whether or not to give him a peck since his superior was right there but Mr. Shim receives a call and he excuses himself to pick it up, allowing you to quickly kiss Taeyong’s cheek. “I’ll try it to tomorrow... do you want pics?”

You say it low enough for him to hear and it immediately brings a bright red tinge on his cheeks. He chuckles, licking his lips, “Well, I’d have to proof that you’re using it, don’t I?”

His hands are itching to tickle your waist, but you’re quick to pull away. “Then I will. I should go ahead, traffic will be piling up soon.”

“Take care. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. Text me when you arrive at your hotel, okay?” With one last kiss, you head home. You order food for dinner; too anxious to cook and while waiting for it, took all the pregnancy tests and lined them up on the bathroom counter.

As you wait for the results, pacing back and forth outside the bathroom; your food arrives and for thirty minutes you genuinely forgot about the tests until you had to go in wash up for bed.

You’re looking at the tests, double checking the back of their packages about what the lines and colors mean. And all of them say the same thing: positive. You’re pregnant. You wanted to cry out of joy; there’s life in your belly, a little mix of you and Taeyong. Despite the numerous tests that tell you you’re pregnant, you wanted to be extra sure and planned to go to your doctor as soon as her office opens tomorrow morning.

As you lie down for the night, the bed too spacious for your liking as Taeyong’s spot is empty, you curl up on your side and place a hand on your stomach. You know you’ve been waiting and hoping for it, but you can’t believe a baby is growing in your womb right now. You’re trying not to think ahead of it like what the gender could possibly be or what his/her name is, you’re just glad you don’t have to worry about Taeyong taking the news since you knew he wants to have a kid just as much as you do.

And as if on cue, your phone rings.

“Hey, baby, I just got to my room at my hotel.” His voice fills the room as you put his call on speaker. “Are you in bed? Did I wake you up?”

“Not at all, I just got in.” You hum, fighting off the urge to tell him the news. “Before you ask, yes, I did double check the locks. They’re closed and I’m safe.”

“Good.” He chuckles. You could hear clothes rustling and you’re guessing he’s changing out of them. “What did you have for dinner?”

“I ordered some pork cutlets and jjajangmyeon. Have you eaten?”

“We ate at a Chinese restaurant before checking in. I just had noodles and some dumplings.”

Maybe it’s all in your head or maybe it’s your pregnancy talking, but you’re suddenly craving for some soup dumplings. “That sounds good. Maybe I’ll have Chinese takeout tomorrow for lunch.”

He laughs at this, “Are you really not going to cook for yourself at all while I’m gone?”

“I will, it’s just that I don’t want to cook if my husband isn’t here to eat and compliment it.” You sigh, “I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too... are you okay?”

“Yeah. What makes you think otherwise?”

“I didn’t mean you weren’t, it’s just that... you sound different? A little dreamy? Mellow?”

“Oh... well, I did just have a nice hot shower.” You lied, “So I’m relaxed and ready for bed.”

“We should both get to sleep then, huh? Good night, baby, sweet dreams.”

“Good night, love. Sweet dreams.”

The following morning, you spend a good half an hour vomiting into your toilet bowl and the other half trying to look for something to eat that isn’t triggering you to run back into the bathroom once its’ scent hits your nostrils after calling up your doctor for an immediate appointment.

In the next hour, you’re already at the clinic; texting Taeyong and pretending to be out on an errand like grocery shopping before going through the check up with your doctor.

“Congratulations, [Y/N]. You’re definitely pregnant, about 7 weeks in.” She smiles up at you as she points out the fetus through the monitor of the ultrasound.

You have a photo taken of the ultrasound and after scheduling more check ups with your doctor and going through a list of the things you are now not allowed to do and things you should do as pregnant woman, you head back home.

You decided to run a bath, trying to decide how to tell Taeyong when he gets home. You remembered the bath bombs he told you about and took them out of the cabinet, choosing a lavender scented one. Grabbing your phone, you take a video of you dropping the bath bomb it and letting it bubble up for a good minute before sending it to Taeyong.

Almost immediately, he replies, “You’re lucky we just got back from brunch.”

It’s around 10:30 and you know the conference is at noon so you know he has time to spare. You shed off your clothes and step into the bath, sinking into warm water with a moan. You keep one arm out of the water to dial your husband and wait for the video call to connect.

Once it does, you hear the shower running on his end of the call and you see him trying to look for a place to put his phone up on. “How’s the bath bomb?”

“It smells amazing.” You show the lavender colored water; not even shy about how your breasts were on full display. “I wish you were here. We should try the rose one when you get back later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He sighs. You watch him step back into the cascading water, biting down on your lower lip when he tilts his head back to expose his throat to you. It was a little annoying how the camera just cut off below his abdomen; barely showing the base of his cock. “What did you get from the grocery?”

“Hm?” You’re confused for a second until you realized that was the excuse you gave him when you were at your doctor. “Oh, just a few fruits and snacks. I wanted cupcakes, though, so I might go back out later.”

“Can you get me some, too?” He looks back at you through the camera.

“Sure.”

“What are you doing after?”

You sit back against the tub after resting your phone on a stand, massaging your arms with the scented water. “I might lounge around after lunch, maybe clean up the house a bit.”

He’s washed up his hair as you tell them this, rinsing off the suds and reaching for his body wash. As he squirts it into his hand and begins to lather it, he asks, “Can I see you, baby?”

You hum, “Hm? Can’t you see me now?”

“All of you, baby.”

Oh. You sit up a bit to move your phone to the other end of the bathtub, directly across you, and move to lean back. You part your legs, making sure he can see your everything even through the colored water.

Twenty minutes later, the video call ended. He’s satisfied, you’re satisfied, the water’s cold now but your body still feels hot. When you get out of the bath and dress for the rest of day after you dry off, you feel giddy. You’re so excited to tell Taeyong about the baby and you have an inkling on how you were going to announce it to him.

After lunch and lounging around, you head back out to your favorite bakery around six to pick up a few cupcakes and drove through a fast food chain at the sudden craving for something greasy even though you marinated some meat to cook for dinner.

Back in your home, as you munched on nuggets with one hand while cradling a double pattied burger with the other, you keep eyeing the cupcakes on the kitchen counter and hope everything goes to plan and Taeyong would understand what you mean.

Taeyong announces he’s home around ten and you’re running up to him a like giddy little child, jumping into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I’ve been wanting to eat the cupcakes all night, but I wanted to wait for you.” You confess, which is actually true. Aside from wanting to reveal the pregnancy, all the salt and grease from your dinner needed to be washed down with something sweet - you would have opted for wine, but obviously, you weren’t allowed to.

He sets his bags aside and laughs, letting you lead him to the kitchen, “You didn’t have to wait. I was planning to eat it tomorrow.”

You stop and turn to him with a frown - almost pout - on your face, “After I waited hours so I could enjoy these cupcakes with you?”

“I’m kidding! What flavors did you get?”

Pulling the box of cupcakes across the countertop, you open up the lid, “Vanilla, chocolate, and red velvet. Which one do you want?”

He hums, resting a hand on your hip and pulling you close, “Chocolate.”

You hand it to him and as he peels the paper off, you drag the remaining cupcakes towards you, “That’s yours and these are mine.”

You’re hoping he comments about it, jokingly or even passively, and he does; giving you a pout, “Why do you get two?”

You inhale deeply, looking at the cupcakes - and although seeing them up close and catching a whiff of its sickeningly sweet scent makes you want to hurl - you shrug as casually as you can, “Because I’m eating for two now.”

“Ah.” He nods, about to take a bite until he suddenly stops, mouth agape and cupcake suspended inches from his lips. He looks back at you, “You’re what?”

“Eating for two.” You repeat, swallowing your saliva. “D-do you understand what that means?”

He blinks at you for a while, gaze dropping to your stomach, and then back up at you. He puts the cupcake down and stares at you for a few more seconds. “Are you pregnant?”

You smile, nodding vigorously.

“I-” He grins, pulling you by your waist and looking back down at your midsection, “This isn’t a joke? You’re serious? I’m going to be a dad?”

“You’re going to be dad.” You confirm with a little giggle at how his eyes are just wide and sparkling.

“We’re going to be parents?” He asks once more and you’re laughing, answering his question with another nod. He picks you up, hugging you tightly and squealing along with you. “When did you find out?”

As he sets you down, you shrugged, “I felt sick the other day and I took pregnancy tests last night - they all came back positive.”

“Last night? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I had to make sure! So I went to my doctor and-” You flinch, internally scolding yourself for forgetting about the sonograph in your purse. You run over to it and Taeyong curiously follows after you. “I wanted to be very, very, very sure that I was pregnant before I told you.”

“Is this our baby?” He takes the picture from your hands and you quickly show him as what your doctor had said. “I can’t believe this.”

“Do you think we’re ready to have kids?”

He puts the photo down and takes your hands, “I do... and if we’re not, we have months to prepare.”

“Are you ready to have fat, bloated, and moody wife?” You half-joked, pursing your lips at the thought of your belly swelling up in the next few months.

“No, because I will always only have a beautiful, loving, deserving wife.” He kisses you with each description, “I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to be a mother of my child.”

“Alright.” You roll your eyes before gazing back into his eyes, “I love you.”

He scrunches his nose and gives you an eskimo kiss, eliciting a little laugh from you. “I love you, too.”

bonus end scene:

“Wait,” You pull away from him all of a sudden, your hair disheveled and clothes gone.

Taeyong drops his head to the bed and blinks up at you, out of breath, “What?”

“I have to call you daddy before our kids do.”

“O-okay? But... in what context-”

“As in, I’ve been really, really bad while you were gone, daddy. I need to be punished.” You say in your best sultry voice, tracing the tip of your finger down his abdomen. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

He lets out a little scoff, quickly turning your positions around, “Is that so?”

#nct smut #taeyong smut #taeyong scenarios #nct scenarios

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virmillion · 5 years

Text

Ibytm - T minus 18 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,350

Logan knocks a rhythm into the legs of his chair with his heels, absently observing the cafe. Not terribly busy, given how close to society’s generally-agreed-upon dinnertime it is. Most people have the good sense to be out for a late meal, if not relaxing at home and sleeping off some comfort food. Logan is not included among those ‘most people,’ in case that wasn’t clear.

He glances out the finger-smudged window, watching a leaf skitter across the pavement. A couple of kids chase it along ahead of a slower kid, their backpacks abandoned at the base of a nearby oak tree. Probably a need for speed type deal. Something happens on the table in front of Logan, but he’s too intently focused on the kids outside to notice.

“Logan.”

He waves a vague hand in the direction of the voice, not really processing who it belongs to. At last, the lagging kid catches up and jumps forward, crushing the leaf under their dirt-streaked tennis shoe. The other kids clap them on the back in congratulations.

“Okay, what is it?” He glances across the table to Virgil, who’s sitting on the seat diagonal from him and sipping absently at a cup of coffee that’s probably in the process of melting a few oversized dollops of whipped cream. Virgil doesn’t seem to notice that Logan suddenly decided to start paying attention, which means the latter is free to ogle his husband to his heart’s content. How the faint purple of his fading hair dye hangs just so over his forehead, how that one stubborn spot of acne near his chin pushes his lips up into a half smile, how his eyes sparkle with the light of the early evening sun, how, just by looking at him, Logan can tell he’s savoring every ounce of this moment without even thinking about it.

“What are you doing?” Virgil finally asks, turning around and catching Logan mid-stare. If Logan knew anything about grade school crushes, he would know that this is the part where he’s supposed to quickly shift his gaze, embarrassed to high heck. But he didn’t, so he doesn’t.

“Admiring how good you look.”

“Ew, dork.”

“We’re married. I’m allowed to say things like that.” Logan holds up his ring finger and tilts his head toward it with a lopsided grin. “Sorry, pal, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Just be quiet and drink your drink,” Virgil mumbles into his cup, his face turning a lovely shade of pink. Logan smiles to himself and lifts his own cup to his lips, taking a long sip from the straw. “Where are they, anyway? Weren’t we supposed to meet here at, like, seven?”

“Please, you’ve met Roman. It’ll take him at least that long to get his hair done. Don’t pretend like you expected him to be punctual.”

“I guess it’s just a downright tragedy that we got here on time, then.”

“Indeed. Send in the clowns, as it were.”

“Don’t bother, they’re here.” Virgil jerks his chin toward the door, over which a bell proudly chimes to announce the arrival of Patton and Roman. True to form, Roman’s hair looks as painstakingly effortless as ever, and Logan can’t help but wonder just how early he has to get up to be at work on time (or five minutes late) while managing to look like that.

“Heya, lovebirds!” Patton calls, waving far more emphatically than necessary as he drags Roman into the queue. Roman barely remembers to toss them a passing glance, more focused on the exhaustively detailed menus.

“Remind me why we agreed to this?” Virgil mutters. He swirles the contents of his cup around, but there’s definitely a smile lurking under his feigned irritation.

“Because we’re nice people who talk to other nice people like the good little members of society we pretend to be.”

“Sounds overrated.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Hey, what’re we talkin’ about?” Patton asks, plopping himself down beside Virgil. Logan nods his greeting as Virgil knocks elbows with Patton in a weird not-quite-but-still-kind-of handshake. An elbowshake, perhaps.

“Why society and its conventions are overrated.”

Logan cocks his head to the side, watching Patton’s brow wrinkle. “There’s a little more to it than that.”

“Not really.”

“And you say that on what grounds?”

“Well, for one, you started it, and for another—”

“I would hardly say I started it. You’re the one that brought up—”

“Only because you insisted we had to act per—”

“Patton!” Roman interrupts, sitting beside Logan and plunking his cup down on the table. “Tell them what Morgan did today!” Logan doesn’t have time to wonder why Roman got his drink before Patton, as the latter launches into an excited and (some would say excessively) detailed account of the make-believe game his daughter thought up in the backyard, right down to the surnames of her imaginary fallen teammates. Actually, Logan isn’t entirely convinced that Patton himself isn’t the one with the active imagination, even to the point of making up these stories about his daughter on the spot.

“Ariel still doing okay?” Virgil cuts in. Maybe trying to steer the conversation away from how many shades of grass Morgan decreed as being ‘queendom property,’ but who’s to say?

The question sets Patton off all over again, this time encouraging an enthusiastic catalogue of every last one of Morgan’s mother’s movements. How she brought over surprise balloons for Morgan and held her breath the whole time because of her latex allergy (which Patton isn’t entirely convinced she has) but she could be telling the truth since it could’ve been an allergy that developed after her childhood and it certainly wasn’t of top conversation priority on that one messy night nine months before Morgan was born but maybe they should’ve looked into it when she first tested positive on that little stick in case she passed it on to Morgan when they—

“Large coffee for Patton?” Patton jolts out of his seat and is at the pickup counter before Logan can blink. As Patton strikes up a cheerful conversation with the (mercifully unannoyed) barista, Roman twists to look at Logan.

“Ten bucks says he doesn’t need all the crap in that cup.”

Logan is almost afraid to ask, but curiosity begs satisfaction. “What’d he get?”

“Okay, so you know how a large is twenty ounces, yeah? And a single shot of espresso is one ounce?”

“Very much did not ask for the vocabulary lesson, but continue.”

“Right, yes, but it’s important to me that you know all that. Anyways, apply that knowledge when I tell you he got fifteen shots of espresso, one long shot, and two ristretto shots. Oh, and five packets of splenda.” More jarring to Logan than that disaster of a coffee order is the look on Virgil’s face—not surprised in the slightest, as if someone had told him Patton ordered a regular cup of black coffee or something.

“I’m sorry, but how did you figure out that you liked that combination abomination?” Logan asks as Patton returns with a smile over his shoulder to the barista.

“Oh, you know, little of this, little of that.” Patton grins at Logan, and something in his eyes makes Logan’s stomach turn. Logan watches in horror as he knocks back far more than what could be considered an advisable amount of coffee. In a voice like a demon banished from the depths of hell for bad behavior, Patton whispers, “Taste is meaningless. There is no flavor that could supplement the raw energy in this.” Logan isn’t entirely sure whether or not he’s making up this whole exchange to cope with Patton’s drink order, a fear which is not helped in the slightest by Virgil’s continued nonchalance.

“That’s actually one of his tamer drinks,” Virgil finally remarks, studying his nails.

Before the shock of this nonsense has even begun to wear off, Roman decides it’s been too long since he had a turn to speak. “So, mister promotion man, what do you think of the new location? You seen it yet? Been inside?”

“First off, stop calling me that. You got promoted, too. Second, no, I’ve avoided finding out any details aside from the address and how to get there from home.”

“Even finding that out took a solid two days of me pestering him to look it up,” Virgil chimes in, now messing around with his phone. “If it weren’t for me, he probably wouldn’t even know there was a relocation happening.”

“That’s entirely true, actually,” Logan admits. “We were talking wedding plans and he wanted to send me something, and I must’ve had my do not disturb mode on, because I completely missed the email about the move.”

“Not to mention all the texts and calls from me that you so callously ignored! You didn’t return a single one!” Roman sputters indignantly. “It’s like we aren’t even friends! I mean, how cruel can you be? Those texts could have been important!”

“Oh, are we friends? You should’ve told me sooner.” Logan swivels in his seat to face Roman, well aware that Patton and Virgil both have their full attention on the conversation’s direction change. “We see each other at work, and we’ve interned together since way back when, but that’s hardly solid grounds for declaring friendship.”

“We are literally on a double coffee date right now. Like, I am sitting in a coffee shop with you and your husband and everyone’s best friend Patton, and it has nothing to do with work.” Patton blinks at the mention of his name and smiles absently.

“Okay, but it’s not a date , because you aren’t dating Patton, not to mention that attending a coffee peddler at the same time doesn’t necessarily denote being anything more than work colleagues.”

Virgil covers his mouth as he leans over to whisper something to Patton, who giggles into his cup of caffeinated chaos incarnate.

“You tell them!” Patton whisper-shouts.

“I’m not saying it.” Virgil folds his arms and mimes zipping his lips, slouching back in his seat. Logan really ought to have a serious talk with him about proper ergonomic posture, but that’s a lecture for another day. He quirks an eyebrow at Patton’s muffled laughter, but Roman clearly isn’t about to let him dodge the conversation (which had no business existing in the first place) so easily.

“We are seriously hanging out right now. Like, casual hangout session in a coffee shop. You with your husband, your husband with his close work friend, that work friend with his best friend, and that best friend just so happens to be your work friend. This is a large and tangled web here, my good sir, and I will kindly ask that you respect it.”

“How am I supposed to respect such a convoluted string of coincidences, much less one that means so little with how it’s laid out?”

Patton bursts into a full-on belly laugh at whatever Virgil whispers this time. It genuinely looks like his face might straight-up explode from how red it turns, but he shakes his head profusely when Virgil juts his chin toward Logan. “I can’t say that!” Patton squeals. Virgil winks at an understandably bewildered Logan, who would very much like to move on to a new topic of discussion right about now. No such luck.

“So what are your requirements for friendship then, huh?” Roman gets up in Logan’s face,washing him in a wave of coffee breath. Logan grimaces. “Staring at some poor, unsuspecting tour guide in a museum until they take pity on you and accept your desperate pleas to go on a date with you?” Roman puts enough silliness into his tone that it’s clear he’s kidding, so Logan decides to play along. What’s the harm?

“Right, because I’m keeping Virgil in this relationship on my own terms. Virgil, blink twice if you proposing to me was an elaborate ruse for your own chance at single life again. Blink once if that’s not true.” Virgil blinks three times. “You are a monster.” Virgil bats his eyelashes. Logan might scream. Virgil winks.

“Friendship is a weird thing, anyway,” Patton pipes up, a hint of that laughter still tinting the edges of his voice. “I mean, I’m still super close friends with Ariel, and we had a stinkin’ kid together. Meanings can change, I think, since words are already so hard in the first place. Isn’t that a fair agreement?”

Logan and Roman grumble vague sounds of acknowledgement, though their matching unhappy tones make it clear—at least, they do to Logan—that neither of them actually wanted a real answer to their little debate. They were just arguing for the fun of it, kind of like—

“Hey, what about that Neptune expedition riddle from way back when?” Roman says suddenly. “Logan, y’member that? Never did manage to solve it, huh?”

“Oh, no, I definitely solved it. I simply refused to share with rhizocephalan barnacles such as yourself.” Roman—along with the rest of the table—blinks silently at Logan, who crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Just google it. I’m not a dictionary.”

“You’re my dictionary,” Virgil coos in a honey-sweet voice.

“Never say that again,” Logan mumbles halfheartedly. Let’s all agree to ignore the blood that rushes to color Logan’s cheeks as he considers the pros and cons of dreaming up something equally lovey-dovey. No, better not. Why ruin his stoic reputation with an attempt at romance that’s doomed to fail before it even launches? Might as well stay quiet, watching the topic jump again.

Well, more like Virgil shoves the current topic off a cliff, but you get the idea.

“How’s Ariel doing on that new degree?” he asks. This sets Patton off on yet another tangent about her career, her interests, her grades, her field studies, and who knows what else as Logan takes another sip of his drink and lets his eyes drift to the window. Some kids sprint across the sidewalk, arms spread like wings, chasing a leaf as it floats along with the gentle evening breeze.

#labhwrites #mine #i'll bring you the moon #ibytm

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shiroslefttesticle · 6 years

Note

Sweetheart, good luck with the new blog? May I ask for headcanons of the male paladins with a female reader who is insecure about her appearance? Have a great day UvU

Hey love, thank you so much! Like you asked I did all of the male paladins but if there’s anyone that someone wants to be added, feel free to send in another request and I’ll edit them in.

Shiro

Shiro isn’t a stranger when it comes to being insecure about your appearance.

He’s probably still adjusting to his arm and he has a lot of various scars from all the battles he gets into.

So when he hears that you’re insecure about your appearance? Honestly, his heart breaks a little.

You’re the one truly good thing he has amidst all the chaos going on and to hear that you don’t view yourself as beautiful makes him a bit upset.

Despite having personal experience with insecurities, he might not be 100% sure what to do for you at first.

So he talks. And Shiro is an excellent speaker.

The way he talks doesn’t make it sound like he’s forcing himself to come up with compliments, it sounds so genuine and sincere that you probably tear up a bit.

He keeps a close eye on you after you talk to him the first time.

Anytime he notices that you seem to feel a little down, he’s there to reassure you that you are stunning inside and out.

He’s not huge on PDA but if you’re with all the other crew members or on an alien planet trying to promote diplomacy and he notices that you’re kind of hiding yourself he’ll do little things to help.

Like hold your hand and do that thing where he squeezes lightly and runs his thumb back and forth.

Or wrap his arm around your waist so he can hold you close to him.

It helps quell your insecurities, at least for the time being.

If you two are alone, sitting in the common room, he’ll have you lay across his lap or rest your head on his shoulder just so that he can feel you close to him and vice versa.

He’ll stroke your cheek with his thumb or something while you two talk about whatever you want and he subtly slips in compliments every so often.

Y/n: “That alien banquet we went to the other night was a lot of fun.”

Shiro: “It was, and you looked absolutely beautiful too.”

If you’re really adamant about changing yourself because you’re insecure about your weight or something, he’ll help you train more.

He makes sure you don’t injure or push yourself too hard.

It can also be super motivating to have a workout buddy.

Plus sometimes he might be prone to *ahem* a little hands on adjustment when you’re stretching and that certainly doesn’t feel bad ;))

With all the extra time you two start putting into training, not only do you look and feel great, but you two become absolutely lethal on the battlefield and if that isn’t workout motivation already, I don’t know what is.

He just wants you to be happy and he’s so so supportive of anything you feel you need to do to achieve that as long as it’s safe.

Lance

This boy is floored? How could you not like your appearance??? He thinks you’re a goddess.

We’ve all seen the various creatures that Lance has crushed on, he really does not give a fuck about traditional human beauty standards.

He’s willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better about yourself, whether that’s neverending words of praise or an impromptu DIY spa day.

Seriously, if you’re feeling insecure over acne or something else skin related, he’ll whip you up a special face mask and let you wear his robe while he applies a hair mask on you.

He probably gives you his headphones so you can listen to some relaxing music.

If music isn’t your thing, he’ll talk to you. This boy has conversation topics for days.

He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you with compliments because he’s aware that not everyone is comfortable with receiving a bunch at once but he does make sure that he points out specific parts of your body that he really likes.

Which is everything.

By the end of your spa session, you’re going to be so pampered and relaxed and will probably smell like a flower shop. Insecurity who?? I don’t know her.

Lance already complimented you normally throughout the day on small things.

It was mostly through cheesy pickup lines tbh.

Lance, looking at you during training: “Hey babe are you wearing space pants? Because your ass is out of this world.” *finger guns before getting knocked over by Pidge.*

But now he steps up the compliments.

Congrats, Lance is your personal hype man.

Seriously, you doing anything, no matter how small the task, results in Lance complimenting you.

You kicked ass during training? Compliments.

You helped Hunk make food? Compliments.

You’re just chilling in the common room? Compliments.

If you’re uncomfortable with receiving a whole bunch of attention at once, Lance will wait until the end of the day, when you two are alone, to tell you everything he thought about you during the day.

This is probably the best time tbh because the two of you are probably just curled up next to each other in bed or sitting on his floor next to each other playing video games and it’s just so personal.

His voice is probably quieter than usual since it’s just you two and it’s the end of the day, so you have to lean in a tiny a bit to hear him.

It’s just so soft and serene??? I’m blushing.

Keith

When he hears about your insecurities, he’s conflicted.

On one hand, he’s willing to do anything to help end those thoughts.

On the other hand, he has no idea what he should do.

He’s not much of a talker but he is a fantastic listener.

He’d totally be down to just sit with you and listen as you vent about your feelings and insecurities.

Unless he’s feeling particularly passionate, don’t expect a sudden downpour of compliments from him.

If he is feeling passionate though, he’ll give you a long-winded speech about how everything, everything about you is gorgeous, from the way your lips curl up when you smile to even the way you walk.

Like I said though, these speeches are rare (mostly because he’ll get flustered and start blushing not even midway through) and will only ever happen in private.

He will try to go out of his way to compliment you more often though if that’s what you want.

At first, they’ll probably sound a little awkward because they’ll happen sporadically and will sound totally out of place but he’s trying.

As time goes on though, he begins to get the hang of it and the compliments sound better and have better timing.

He also tries to up his physical affection.

Nothing too wild, but he’ll hold your hand, gently pat your shoulder when you pass each other in the halls, quick pecks on the cheek/forehead/lips/etc.

If it’s just you two (or even just the other paladins once he truly gets comfortable) he’ll hold you close to him whenever you two are sitting with each other.

When you’re completely alone he’ll take advantage of this position to whisper small compliments in your ear or vent about his own day to distract you.

If you’re around the other paladins, he’ll just sit quietly and maybe stroke your arm.

When this first happened, Lance took the opportunity to try to tease Keith until Keith delivered a one-sentence roast so hot, Lance nearly die on the spot.

Lance left Keith alone after that.

If you’re having a particularly bad day, he’ll ask if you want to spar with him.

He doesn’t do it with the intention of promoting weight loss and releasing endorphins but if that does happen, then hey, that’s a total bonus.

He offers to spar because he knows that training helps him take his mind off the things that trouble him and he hopes that it’ll have that same effect on you.

If sparring isn’t your thing and you just want to stay in your room, he’ll bring you everything you need.

An extra soft blanket? Check.

You need some water? Check.

You just want to lay in bed quietly next to him? Check!

Overall, Keith might be a little awkward at first but as time goes on he’ll get the hang of things and gradually your insecurities will begin to dissipate.

Hunk

You’re probably sitting on one of the kitchen counters while Hunk is busy baking when you ask if he thinks you’re pretty.

At first Hunk doesn’t think he heard you right.

I mean what kind of question is that? Of course he thinks you’re pretty!

You kind of just shrug at his response and he decides he should press you more on the subject.

When you open up about all of your insecurities, Hunk is shocked because he thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the universe and he genuinely doesn’t understand how you can interpret anything you see in the mirror to be less than that.

He invites you to cook with him as he personally finds the motions of cooking (kneading dough, stirring batter) to be therapeutic and relaxing and allow him to work through his emotions.

He’s giving you such a hopeful look that you can’t say no and you find that he’s right. Before you even realize it, you’re opening up about everything that’s bothering you.

During this time he’ll be listening intently, occasionally interjecting if what you’re saying is too ridiculous, but he won’t stop your venting.

Instead, he will wait until you’ve said everything you wanted and then he’ll list all of his favorite things about you.

He knows that believing the bad stuff is easier than believing the good stuff so he’ll make sure to also throw in some compliments about you outside of your appearance, like about the stuff you excel at, whether that’s training, programming, cooking, or even something like cleaning the healing pods. He does this so that even if you don’t listen to his compliments on your appearance, you might listen to the compliments about your talents and can use them as a stepping stone to becoming more confident.

At the end of all this, you feel a bit better AND you have a nice batch of freshly made cookies, not the scaultrite ones, he learned his lesson.

Hunk is an A+ listener and is always down to listen to you vent when you need it.

But he makes sure that you know he thinks you’re beautiful.

Every compliment he gives you is overflowing with sincerity.

If you want to try changing your diet, Hunk will support you and make different healthy recipes until you find a few that you enjoy.

He’ll go out of his way to find weird space fruits for you too if you want some to snack on.

Even if you don’t want to change your diet, he’ll always invite you to be in the kitchen with him, even if you just sit on the counters while he does all the cooking.

As a result, the kitchen kind of becomes a safe space for you two and anytime you need to open up about something, you typically do it in the kitchen.

He has the most perfect arms to cuddle into if you need physical reassurance.

Truly those arms are one of his best features. Buff and strong but soft and warm at the same time.

You won’t even have to ask for physical reassurance, he already does it naturally.

Hunk is a very intuitive guy so he knows when you’re feeling down, even if you haven’t talked about it, and he is always ready to comfort you and silence any insecurities you might be facing.

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dewyandbare-blog · 5 years

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skin potions review (◕‿◕✿)

Skin Potions

I heard about Skin Potions from several bloggers and from the ads on Instagram and Facebook. I was curious but I still had products to use and they were still doing their job, not that they’re ineffective now but curiosity really got me and there was a sale near me so I purchased a couple of products from Skin Potions. I bought it last March 14, 2019 during the Beautify 2019 event. I literally went out of my way from Valenzuela to buy the Peach Thy Lash product but ended up buying 3 more products. In my defense, their packaging is super cute, okay! They made a cartoon out of the main ingredient of their products. I used them right away when I did my skin care routine that night so let me break down my experience with their products:

· Tomato Serum

I have heard of tomato having skin care benefits but I haven’t tried one so this my first try. This serum, according to their website, claims to increase fairness, balance pH levels, tighten pores, treat sunburn, reduce skin irritation, and cure acne. It’s organic and uses natural-based ingredients. I got it for Php207 but it’s originally Php 295 so that’s 30% off! Not bad for a locally made serum especially if it really works!

Packaging/Product: The label sticker is so cute: a tomato picking his/her fellow tomatoes! As I said, the graphic design really attracts buyers since the color scheme, cartoon drawings, font is pleasing to the eyes. The bottle has a pump which is what I consider hygienic since I don’t like dirt from the environment potentially mixing with the product. I also like that you can control the amount that comes out because some pumps don’t work and release much more than you intend to get due to faulty pump bottle. The pump bottle contains 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz. of serum in it which is dropper bottle. It also smells like strawberry which is a surprise considering it’s a tomato-based product. My mom even thought ants would crawl on our faces at night because it smells too sweet, it might attract ants. Update: It didn’t attract ants to our faces.

Performance: The serum is thick in consistency. I only need a pea-size amount for my entire face. It dries pretty quickly when I apply it in a dry airconditioned room. Why do I need an airconditioned room? Because here’s the thing, my face sweats easily so I think it affects the performance in my opinion. I think because of the sweat on my face, my skin can’t fully absorb the serum so I had to dry my face off with electric fan. Anyway, the serum spreads easily across the face and leaves a sticky feeling for a little while. I don’t know if it’s just me or everybody experiences the post-application sticky feeling. It’s only for a little while though because the serum dries pretty quickly, maybe less than 30 seconds. I use the serum twice a day, one in the morning or afternoon and one in the evening.

Results: My skin is sensitive to certain products; the reaction is immediate. I will see blind pimples in places I don’t usually get them so that’s how I know whether the product is compatible with my skin or not. Fortunately for me, the Tomato Serum is compatible with my skin. I noticed that my bumps lessened in numbers and my pimples decreased in size. My skin still has texture but I have yet to see if it smoothens after one bottle. I haven’t seen any major differences in my skin but I will still use it because it gradually lessens my bumps and pimples.

· Rosehip Oil

I’ve always wanted to try the Rosehip Oil because my friends say the whiten the dark scars from pimple/acne. I never had the chance since the popular brands I looked at sells them for 500 and up and as a student, I don’t have the budget for that. Until, Skin Potions announced that they will have mega sale in North Edsa. My mom immediately bought one to see if the reviews are true. It costs Php200 when we got it but there was a 50% off so it’s originally priced at Php400 for a 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz.. I consider it a steal since most Rosehip costs Php500 and up!

Packaging/Product: The label sticker was a little off, it can be easily peeled off since the sticker size exceeds the space on the bottle. It’s a spray bottle which got me curious how will that work since it’s oil. Its consistency is a little thicker than liquid. Unfortunately, it sprays everywhere whenever I use it so I had to be careful when using it. No matter how I use it (against my palm or fingers), the product sprays everywhere. The bottle contains 30mL or 1.014 fl. oz of product which is also standard with oils. I wish the container is a dropper bottle because it’s easier to use with oils.

Performance: I don’t usually use oils. I stayed off of it since I realized it feels hot on the skin. The last time I did was with V&M Naturals’ Emu Oil, that worked out great for me. The Rosehip Oil is like your typical oil. It doesn’t have any special thing to it. It doesn’t smell anything special. It applies to the skin like any other oils so I can’t speak any more than that.

Results: The results were great. I only used 4-5 times since I bought it but I already saw great results on my skin. Since my skin is sensitive, I always have pimples on my cheeks, forehead and sometimes, jaws. I have a bad habit on picking on them when I forget to put a pimple patch on it and that often results to dark scars. I refuse to put make up on it because I sweat a lot (it would be useless) and I don’t go out when I have fresh dark marks. It’s embarrassing. When I applied it after 4-5 times, I noticed that a 1-week old dark mark on my right cheek lightened. Had I not put anything on it, it would last for months before it fades. It’s amazing. I will post pictures of before and after when it completely lightens.

· Peach Thy Lash

I’m pretty insecure with my eyebrows ever since I had it threaded so I always use eyebrow pencils. I tried using castor oil for my brows and lashes but I feel a slight pain on my eyebrow area and sting in my eyes. Also, pure castor oil feels heavy on the lashes so I don’t like putting it on much. When I saw the Instagram posts of Skin Potions and saw actual results from Peach Thy Lash, I decided then and there that I would buy one. It’s pretty cheap considering the packaging is great so I was excited to use it. It claims to grow and strengthen your eyebrows and lashes. I got for Php120 but it really costs Php150.

Packaging/Product: It’s so small, only 5mL or 0.169 fl. oz, so at first, I expected less with the quality of packaging but when I saw the size of the spoolie brush, I was amazed because I already know from the looks of it that it will apply great on my eyebrows and lashes. The serum smells like flowers so I enjoy using it. The ingredients are almost all organic: water, castor oil, Tsubaki oil, aloe water, and rosehip oil. It also contains perfume and a preservative called phenoxyethanol. What’s also great about it is the stopper in the tube’s mouth that prevents me from using so much product at once. It saves me from using so much and finishing the tube quickly.

Performance: The spoolie works great when applying the product since it’s bigger than the usual spoolies, I can see that it spreads the serum evenly on my brows and lashes. The only con is that I can’t reach the corner hairs on my lashes without hitting my eyes, so I have to use both hands to apply the serum on all the hairs including the inner corner ones. Overall, it’s a great product in terms of performance. I use it twice a day, morning and night. It dries out quickly and it doesn’t feel heavy on the brows and lashes.

Results: I have a less hair on the front of my eyebrows and I have bald spot on my lashes so that’s my focus when applying. On my bald front brows, I notice that there are little hairs growing right now. It’s not really noticeable unless I look closely into it. I was happy with it because it means my bald brows still have hope. On my lashes, they’re already a good length, not too short and it fans out so I should be content with it right? But I also have a bald spot, so I see to it to put serum on it first. But overall, I see that my lashes look a little longer than before to the point where I can see them without looking at a mirror.

General Verdict:

I know it’s too early to say it but I really like the products in terms of price, packaging, performance, and the results after at least a week. For a student, the price range of their products are affordable. I don’t mind splurging a little bit on their products because the quality in general is amazing so far. The packaging is well-thought out in my opinion because their color schemes, cute characters and overall packaging feel is attractive. It makes you want to buy more. Personally, I want to collect their products because it’s so cute. The performance is also a plus, it’s functions well. It;s not hassle to use. I almost did not have a difficulty using their products except for the Rosehip Oil, the oil splashes everywhere no matter what angle I do or how softly I press the pump. I wish they would change it to a dropper bottle instead. It’s easier to use. The results? I love it. My skin didn’t react badly to it. It only means that it doesn’t have a toxic ingredient on it. I will include it in my skin care routine from now on. I also can’t wait to try out their other products! Good job, Skin Potions Team!

#product review #skin care product #local #philippines #skin potions ph #affordable product #rosehip oil #tomato serum #peach thy lash #blog

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headbondesen8 · 2 years

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The Right Way To Slap Down A Cannacell Happy Day Cream

Disclaimer: What does not work for me, could give you the results you want. For me, the performance does not warrant the high price tag. Considering the large container and worth point ($8), I would advocate if you need to use it up quickly sufficient. I am desirous to try their other shampoos and conditioners which are formulated for lighter or not so thick hair to see if I can get the volume I am always looking for. My hair is stick-straight and whereas not thin, I in all probability would not describe my hair as very thick both. While ewg andalou naturals 'm not a fan of the scent of geranium, this one was quite pleasant. Viva Health Cleansing Gel (pattern) - I'm not a fan of gel cleansers and this one was no exception. I love to support rising business (particularly when they're local to me) so after their blemish vanishing gel helped me out in a darkish second for my pores and skin, I decided to strive their Argan oil conditioner. Take a look at Andalou Naturals for more info. Andalou Naturals 1000 Roses Beautiful Night Cream (pattern) - Again, pleasant rose scent. CannaCell Happy Day Cream contains several more potent antioxidants, together with magnesium ascorbyl phosphate (vitamin C derivative), resveratrol, and tocopherol (vitamin E).

I'm pretty certain that she's still stuck on her love for the Dr. Hauschka Rose Day Cream. Pai Comfrey & Calendula Calming Body Cream - evaluate here - These items was unimaginable and worked like a dream for my ezcema. John Masters Blood Orange & Vanilla Body Wash - evaluation here - oh-my-gosh, this physique wash smelled so friggen good. Does anybody know of a very good moisturizing cream (not lotion…I like something thicker and more hydrating) with SPF 30 that I can discover within the drugstore? I've read so many good evaluations and both I bought a foul batch or they really just don't work for me. We will certainly consider your respond on Reviews Of Andalou Products reply so as to fix it. I'm def. re-checking your reviews and adding a couple of things in my want list. By switching out my cleanser and including in an extra hydrator, my face is already feeling much more comfy, and the bumps on my forehead have started to go away. It evened out my skin tone, brightened, and helped with any acne.

The concept is that you unfold this gel in your dry face, massage it in, and you're left with clumps of useless pores and skin that may then be washed off. I've examined this product on multiple occassions, on dry skin and barely damp skin, on my face and my palms, and that i don't assume this is definitely a peeling gel - it would not ball up and doesn't go away little gunky rolls in your face. I've discovered a cure from CURE natural aqua gel (pun supposed). Whether they work or not, to me it does not matter that a lot because all I ask for is a extra stable version of Vitaminc C. And guys, I found it! It sprays a gorgeous superb mist that kinda excites me more than the toner itself. A fantastic mist is a must! This mask claims to 'help counteract seen indicators of aging, together with the looks of fine strains and wrinkles, dehydration, dullness, and sagging'. This super darkish scrub may be very wonderful. Not solely did it fill the room with the beautiful fragrance of lavender, it additionally left my pores and skin super tender.

Absorbed properly and left my skin nourished and moisturized. Blissoma Natural Deodorants in Juniper, Lavender, & Citrus (not pictured) - I was sent these a number of months ago to check out and haven't gotten on well with them. The texture is more of a cream than a milk, nonetheless, it does thin out when blended with water. C Renewal Cream has a lovely, contemporary tangerine scent that feels refreshing and energizing as you are making use of the moisturizer to your skin. Plus, the citrusy scent is so amazing! Lina Hanson Global Body Serum - This physique serum smells so wonderful, it's the perfect scent. La Bella Figura Modern Radiance Concentrate - assessment right here - I actually favored the quick term results that this serum produced; even and glowing pores and skin, however it fell short in the long run outcomes division (particularly with pigmentation). It left my pores and skin glowing and radiant! It has incredible substances, like oats and calendula, but by no means left me wowed. It lathered effectively and by no means left my pores and skin feeling dry.

It smells nice however I can't deal with wet feeling pits. It leaves my face feeling delicate and smelling scrumptious. However, it DOES still in hair like eyebrows easily and leaves a white cast for a couple of minutes, and when my much-hairier boyfriend makes use of it, it does not absorb at all in his beard or arms/legs. The product is formulated for day time makes use of nevertheless, I like to use it on a regular basis and evening. Odacite Hydrating Mask to assist carry my skin again to life after a day baking within the Caribbean sun. Pangea Organics Japanese Matcha Tea Facial Mask - evaluate right here - I liked this mask, though I feel I choose it in the warmer months as it may be drying. Me & The girls Moon Body Scrub & Foot Scrub (sample) - overview right here - Both of these scrubs were lovely. Me & The ladies Moon Serum (sample) - review right here - Great oil serum! Me & The women Moon Night Moisturizer (sample) - evaluation right here - I must admit, I did not use this on my face as a result of it contains coconut oil, nevertheless, I did use it on my toes!

Deep Steep is way more inexpensive, nevertheless, I certainly would repurchase this one simply to switch it up. Would possible repurchase once more. It did go away my pores and skin tender, however I would not repurchase. It hasn't damaged me out or irritated my pores and skin, which is crucial thing, nevertheless it also hasn't improved my skin in any manner. I'm not complaining, I like samples and making an attempt out new things. I really like floral waters, however there are occasions when i need to strive a toner with multiple helpful ingredient. Smells like contemporary apricots and there are undoubtedly instances when I'm tempted to lick it off of my face..or palms..whichever. While I like Pure Anada and their pressed shadows are my absolute favourites, the Zuzu Powder is a lot better and provides a wider shade choice (it is also dearer although). Nourishing aloe vera, apricot and borage oils gently loosen and remove make-up and impurities, while restoring intracellular moisture and a healthy glow. While I don't really get whiteheads or bigger breakouts any extra, I still have a variety of blackheads and quite just a few clogged pores, and the urge to get them out of my pores and skin is sometimes too sturdy to resist.

So I need to try out different options, like Devita's sunscreen that so many natural bloggers rave about. That's my trash! Let me know if you see something you love, hate, and/or need to try. It did not remove makeup very effectively, but was gentle enough to make use of as a second and/or morning cleanse. Since that's what I normally do anyway, this works great as a second cleanse, in the AM and on days when I don't wear any makeup at all. Today is basically a snow day where I'm at, not that I was working today anyway, so I determined to do some cleaning up. However, the texture of the product has been hard and sort of chalky since day one. I'm a rebel. They each perform and ship great results, however, I believe there are lots of people who would benefit from or get pleasure from a more intense enzymatic exfoliation akin to this one.

That being mentioned, most individuals will remove their makeup first. After zinc oxide, the vast majority of the components is composed of emollients that will assist to soften the skin and lock in moisture. Unfortunately it just did not carry out properly for my pores and skin sort. Body Balm - overview right here - This body balm boasted a powerful listing of components and labored extremely nicely on my dry elbows, knees, ft, and ezcema patches. Meow Meow Tweet Baking Soda Free Deo - evaluate right here - That is The very best pure deodorant that I have ever used. It's the very best cleanser I have used to this point! andalou naturals revitalize serum - Really needed to love this cleanser. Pelle Beauty Stellar Multitasking Face Oil (sample) - A blog reader came into the spa that I worked at and was sort sufficient to deliver me a bunch of goodies, this was considered one of them. Myra Aso 100% Marula Oil - assessment here - Love, love, love! This is a improbable toner, highly advocate, and each my mother and I might 100% repurchase. Top of my listing: 100% Pure's fruit mascara and Physicians' Formula's pure possibility in the inexperienced tube. Gabriel Mascara Black - That is only a barely smaller version of their regular black mascara.

I just discover that regular honey does not work as nicely for my pores and skin as manuka. Because the Andalou Sea Buckthorn hand cream works just as properly, is less expensive, and easier to seek out in shops, I won't be repurchasing this one. Willow bark aside, I didn't discover it to be something distinctive and would not purchase the full dimension. Because my skin's been quite a bit drier and extra delicate recently, the Clarins is the right gentle clay mask for me - and I'll be sad once my pattern runs out, but probably won't purchase the total dimension instantly as I nonetheless need to compare it to the Caudalie Instant Detox Mask with pink clay. Since it's not easily available in Canada, I would not purchase the full size. I may need to select up the complete size at some point. But for those with very dry pores and skin like mine, this could also be exactly what you need. It was really easy to use on drawback areas (dry skin, ezcema, burns, cuts, and so on) and travel with. I definitely have friends and relatives that eat like crap and have the most lovely pores and skin, however guess what, they've by no means been prone to interrupt-outs (fortunate souls).

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

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locking out the ghosts chapter 3

chapter one, chapter two

s5 fic: spoilers for bad blood and patient x, part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

warning for a somewhat detailed discussion of scully’s abduction in the last half of the chapter.

Something seems to have shifted between them since Scully spent the night on Mulder's couch.

Scully couldn't tell anyone why she decided to crawl on the couch beside Mulder that night. Inwardly, she knew it was her indescribable need for him in that moment—knowing he was alive and okay seemed like a necessity—but outwardly, she has no idea why she ever thought it was a good idea. Admittedly, she did wake up warm and comfortable, curled against Mulder, but she'd regretted it as soon as she'd realized. It was too soon. She's not ready. She doesn't know when she'll be ready.

Whatever the circumstances inside her own head, she can tell Mulder is a little annoyed with her. He doesn't joke as much, is quieter during the day. It's not an overt thing, but it's definitely there. She would ask him why, but she doesn't want to be the one to bring it up. They haven't talked about their relationship since the warehouse in Falls Church. They haven't really talked about their relationship since San Diego.

(Maybe the problem is that it’s impossible to revert completely to a place where there is no affection between them. Because there has always been affection between them. They’ve been leaning on each other since Day One. When Scully had broken things off, she wasn’t thinking about how close they’d been for years now; she’d assumed that would stay their thing, that the pressure of a relationship could go away but they could still be each other’s pillars, each other’s anchors. And maybe that was her mistake.)

(If she was kinder, maybe she’d have it in her to walk away completely. But she can’t do that. She can’t. She’s invested too much of her life in the X-Files to walk away now. She has to keep going, for Melissa and for Emily and for herself. And for Mulder.)

After a few days, the awkward silence gets infuriating. Slowly, it creeps up on her until it is an itch that never ceases itching.

One night, about a week after the case, Scully tries an experiment of sorts. They have several expense reports to go through and not enough hours in the day. (And in addition, the basement office is freezing.) She suggests, casually, that they get some takeout and go back to one of their places to work. It's something they've done multiple times before San Diego, before and during their relationship. But Mulder's face immediately gets a look of great uncertainty on it; he says, “I don't know if that's a good idea, Scully.”

She feels irritation sprout inside her as if spring has come out. “I thought we were still friends, at least,” she says in a muted fury to the top of the desk. She allows the tiniest amount of annoyance to thread through her words.

“We are,” Mulder says, somewhat helplessly. “I'm just… wondering what it is you want, Scully. After that night on my couch.”

I'm just wondering what it is you want, she thinks, crossing her ankles. Because it's not very fucking clear, Mulder. None of this is clear. “I just want things to go back to normal, Mulder,” she says out loud. She meets his eyes, face blank. “Let's just work on this tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Mulder says quietly. “I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Scully says as she gets up to leave.

---

Fucking Texas.

Mulder gets a case the next day and they travel to Dallas—excuse her, Chaney—and only disaster results. Tension from what Scully has taken to referring as The Couch Incident only rises from the flight out, to the drive to Dallas, to the case itself (two autopsies, two fucking autopsies and no dinner in between), to having to call Skinner after Ronnie Strickland is dead. They bicker as they drive back to the airport, they bicker on the flight home, and they bicker the next day at work as they report in an hour before their meeting with Skinner to determine whether or not they will be going to prison. They debate the events of their day in Texas, and Scully's nerves rise higher and higher as Mulder tells his side of things. Oh, god, I'm going to prison, she thinks. She always thought it would happen one day, being partners with Mulder. She just didn't know it would be over an adolescent, acne-peppered not-vampire and a ridiculous fucking story.

But they don't go to prison—although it's almost as bad in Scully's eyes. Skinner sends them back to Chaney on the grounds of Ronnie Strickland being alive, despite the stake Mulder put through his heart. Or undead, or what the hell ever. Scully is mostly just tired, and eager to put all this behind them. But not very eager to see Sheriff Hartwell after the embarrassment of the night before. And not very eager to argue with Mulder. She's really sick and tired of arguing with Mulder. And she's really sick and tired of him giving her reasons to argue.

They bicker on the flight back out to Texas. (Scully is sick and tired of airplanes, as well; she's ready to insist that they only take cases they can drive to. But that would trap her in an even smaller space with Mulder, and take away the factor of sodas and peanuts and naps and the occasional in-flight movie.) They jab at each other for most of the trip, shooting snide comments between lengthy silences. Mulder pouts irritably and Scully scowls at the seat in front of her. At one point, she snaps, “And I was not flirting with Sheriff Hartwell.”

“Sure, Dana,” he says in a simpering tone that makes her want to slug him. She realizes in that moment that it's been years since he's called her that. The cult case in Tennessee, she thinks. And since then, never with any affection. Only to rib her about a small-town sheriff that he had her practically drooling over. She shuts her mouth and is quiet for the rest of the ride.

In Texas, Mulder suggests that she stay back with Sheriff Hartwell while he goes and checks something out. (Right after she motions to her teeth, self-satisfied. He does not have buck teeth, thank you very much.) She looks over at him in surprise after he says it, and he puts a hand on her shoulder, says, “Don't say I never did nothing for ya,” in an exaggerated, sarcastic voice that she thinks might be a bad Sheriff Hartwell impression. Shock and irritation flickers through her as she asks where he's going; what is his game here? Why would he suggest she hang out with a guy he assumes she's attracted to? (Which: she isn't not attracted to him, but she assumed it would fizzle out to nothing, like with Esther or Jack Bonsaint. A brief crush that she’d forget about months later. She's not in a place for a relationship, especially considering it's been a little over a month since she broke things off with Mulder, and things are still… complicated. They both were extremely exaggerating when talking about her interactions with Hartwell, anyway. Probably to annoy each other. She thought Mulder was exaggerating to get on her nerves. But now…) Mulder walks off into the distance and leaves them alone, and she's left with something like whiplash, confusion pulsing through her.

And of course, the Sheriff is a vampire or something who drugs her coffee. Of course. Just her fucking luck.

When she wakes up in the morning, slumped against a gravestone, with the Sheriff's coat buttoned over her (for warmth, she supposes), she feels a little bit hungover and very exasperated. She wants to punch somebody in the face and ask why every person she ever has a crush on ends up dead or a creep or… well, like Mulder. She walks back to the trailer park in search of Mulder, grateful at least that the Sheriff didn't take her gun.

---

Mulder wakes up with a pounding headache draped over the front seats of his car, his feet sticking out of the window. He startles when he sees the Sheriff's badge in the window, but relaxes when he hears Scully's voice. “Mulder?” she asks.

“Scully, what happened?” he asks, sitting up in the car.

Scully looks exhausted and disheveled, her hair a frizzed mess. “I came to in the cemetery,” she says shortly. “That's all I know.”

Mulder checks his neck in the mirror and finds it smooth. Climbing out of the car, he moves towards Scully, and she tips her head from one side to another, clearly annoyed. No marks.

He scans the empty field and finds nothing, mud and empty patches where trailers once sat. “They pulled up stakes,” he notes.

Scully raises her eyebrows at him, like she's trying to say, You think? He looks down at himself and sees the mud from where the vampires attacked him, and his shoelaces dragging loosely along the ground. He crouches to tie them.

“Scully, are you okay?” he asks, forcing his cold-numbed fingers to try and form a knot of the threads. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, Mulder,” Scully sighs, rubbing her forehead. “He drugged me. I'm fine otherwise. I think he just drugged me so he could get away.”

He stares hard at the top of his shoes, guilt rising up in his throat for leaving her alone with him. Neither of them are hurt, but still… “They attacked me,” he says. “All of them. But they didn't kill us or turn us, either of us.”

“Sheriff Hartwell mentioned something about Ronnie not wanting to stay low profile. I suppose this means he was the only homicidal… vampire.” Scully sounds like every word physically pains her. She rubs at her forehead harder, like she can scrub away the past two days. “I'm going to go call Skinner.”

Scully calls Skinner on her cell phone, pacing the muddy field, while Mulder starts the car. He notices that she has shed the Sheriff's coat into the mud, possibly kicked it a few times. He doesn't comment.

She climbs back in the car, scraping mud off of her pants. “We have a meeting with Skinner tomorrow,” she says grumpily. “But the soonest flight he could get us was tomorrow morning. Because it's the night before Valentine’s Day, I suppose.” She's making a face of incredible distaste. “Everything's clogged up.”

Mulder had forgotten the holiday, and he would've liked to keep on forgetting. Fucking Hallmark scientifically-inaccurate-hearts holiday. (Scully had called it this once in 1995, and he'd thought it hilarious and has referred to it as such since then.) “Okay, well,” he says, sighing, “do you want to go get a hotel in Dallas? I don't know about you but I'm more than done with Chaney.”

“Ditto.” Scully crosses her arms, a scowl on her face.

She looks fierce, and also like she is shivering a little. Mulder untangles his coat from his torso and drapes it over her shoulders. She looks up at him with confusion. “You looked cold,” he says by way of explanation. “And your jacket, um.”

“Drive, Mulder,” she says sternly.

He drives. He doesn’t comment when she threads her arms through his coat and settles into it; he has a feeling that Scully will make him fear for his life if he does.

In Dallas, they find a decent hotel, better than their usual haunts. At check-in, the receptionist purses her lips and says, “I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid we only have one room available.”

Scully sighs, muttering something that might be, “You've got to be fucking kidding me,” as she turns away.

Mulder sighs, too, rubbing his forehead. “Excuse us for a second.” He turns away, motioning Scully with him and says, “Do you want to go somewhere else? We can…”

Her eyes half-closed, she says, “Mulder, I am exhausted, I just spent the night drugged in a cemetery, in the cold, and I feel like shit. I just want a bed. I don't care if I have to share the room.”

Mulder rubs his forehead again, turns back to the front desk. “We'll take it,” he says. “Is it a single or a double?”

“A single, I'm afraid,” the receptionist says apologetically.

Scully sighs heavily again, exasperated. “Could we get a cot?” Mulder mutters, finally understanding Scully’s exhaustion.

---

Mulder spends the first half of the afternoon at a local café, ordering cup after cup of coffee and flipping through a book. He spends the second half of the afternoon at a bar closer to the hotel. Anything to get the latest case out of his head, because if he thinks about it too hard he's either going to start laughing hysterically or end up with a massive headache. Better to stay away.

When he gets back to the hotel room, with an apologetic hamburger for Scully in a paper bag, he finds her sprawled on the bedspread sipping from a glass of amber-colored liquid. “Hi, Scully,” he says awkwardly.

She sees him, and her eyebrows go up in amusement. “Salud, Mulder.” She raises her glass as if to toast him. She's clearly been drinking for a while, and she seems to be in that place between a good mood and completely furious. She always is like this when she's annoyed and drinks.

The bottle on the bedside table indicates she's only a couple glasses in. Scully gestures to it with a flick of her hand, snatching the hamburger. “Want a drink?”

He does, in fact.

They drink on the bed for a while, flipping TV channels. Scully's mood seems to lighten after a few more glasses. When they land on Dracula, she dissolves into giggles.

“What,” Mulder says irritably, changing the channel.

“Nothing, it's just…” She laughs harder, motioning with her glass and sloshing her drink across the covers. “You should've seen your face when his fake teeth popped out.”

“Oh, and you're one to talk,” Mulder replies poutily, cutting his eyes at her. “You should've seen your face when Skinner told us I was right.”

“Oh, you were not right.” She rolls on her stomach, poking him in the side and pouting right back. “I was the one who figured out that Ronnie Strickland was a vampire.”

“I figured it out!” he protests.

“After you were drugged.” Scully bursts into giggles again, burying her face in the pillow. “Hey, Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a terrible falsetto.” She flicks her hand in the air to demonstrate the gravity of it. “Really awful.”

He makes a face at her as she chortles into the pillow. “You are terrifying when you're tired,” he pronounces, poking her cheek.

“You're ridiculous when you're theorizing,” she says, patting his leg clumsily.

“Thank you,” he says with what he considers great dignity. She giggles again, near hysterical.

They have another drink, and then another. Scully is leaning against the headboard between the pillows—not quite leaning against him, but close enough that he can feel her body heat. She gulps the last of her drink, cheeks pinking, and he thinks about kissing her. Just leaning over and kissing her. Kissing her. Her hands on his cheeks in Florida, the humidity palpable in the room. His hands curving around her hips, pulling her into him. Their noses brushing, her hands clenching in her hair. He wants to kiss her. Even if it is a very bad idea, he wants to kiss her.

“What are you staring at?” Scully asks, pouting. Her lower lip jutting out just a little. She's perfected the pout; she's a lot better at it than he is.

“You weren't really going to run off with Sheriff Charming, were you,” he says suddenly. Wistfully.

She looks irritated as she brushes hair out of her face. “No, Mulder,” she says heavily. Like she’s disappointed in him. “I was not.”

“Oh. Good. You didn't… he didn't deserve you.” He brushes a hand over the side of her face, pretends he is brushing away hairs. Her cheek is soft under her fingertips.

She is glaring at him, and it startles him. “What…” she tries, sternly. “Mulder, what… what did you expect? You were the one who… you asked him to…”

“Yeah, but I didn't know that he was a vampire,” Mulder protests. He brushes his hand over her cheek, leans down and presses his nose in the soft space below her jaw. “The buck teeth should've been a clue-in, though. Shoulda known. Shouldn't have left you...”

Scully shoots him another exasperated look that he can barely see from the strange angle he's at. “You said you loved me,” she says, accusatory, voice blurring and slurring, words buzzing into him from where they are connected.

He's confused, pulling away to look her in the eye. “What?”

“You said you loved me.” She pushes her hands into his chest like she is trying to shove him away. “In San Diego. Through the door. You said you loved me. A-and then you try to set me up with a fucking small town sheriff?”

He's breathless, uncertain. He catches her hands against his chest, their fingers tangling. “Scully, I didn't wanna…” He squeezes her hands. “I thought you liked him,” he says. “I thought you wanted things to go back to normal… you said… and I thought…”

“Shut up,” Scully says fiercely, and the next thing he knows, she's kissing him so fiercely that he can't breathe, pushing him against the headboard. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her up against him. She burrows into him, her nose crushed against his cheek as she kisses him harder.

The cot sits across the room, abandoned.

---

They don't talk about it in the morning. They're becoming remarkably good at not talking about things.

It isn't until they’re landing in DC that Mulder mentions it. Scully's been irritably flipping through a newspaper and not mentioning any of the events of the past few days—no vampires, no light cream cheese, and no mentions of the hotel room the night before. Mulder pulls at a loose thread in the red pattern of the airplane seat, clears his throat. Says, “We can't keep doing this.”

Scully jolts, paper folding in her hand. “What? Solving X-Files?” she snaps. “Flying?”

He lowers his voice a little, trying not to draw attention. “We can't… spend the night together if it's not going to lead anywhere.”

She flinches, biting her lower lip. The paper crinkles between her fingers. Her eyes lower.

“You asked for time, Scully, and I want to give it to you,” he tries. “Time to figure things out…” She says nothing, her jaw clenched. “I just, I don't think I can… If we aren't going to…”

“Fine,” Scully blurts. “We'll forget it ever happened.”

She's still not looking at him, her hair hiding her face. Mulder can hear her alcohol-soaked voice saying, You said you loved me. He swallows, throat dry. He doesn't know if he's ever missed her more, and she's right beside him. Right there. “Scully…” he starts.

“What?” she snaps. She takes a shaky breath, gulping in air. “What, Mulder?” she asks again, her voice gentler but jagged. Uneven.

He swallows again. He wants to make a joke, make her laugh, bicker some more about vampires. They are not going to prison, and they are not going to be together. Fine. “Nothing,” he says softly. “It's nothing.”

They are quiet as the plane lands and as they pick their way through the airport. They don't speak again until they hit the parking lot. Mulder reaches out to touch Scully's elbow before thinking better of it. “Hey, Scully,” he says, pulling his hand back.

Scully lifts her chin to meet his eyes, says nothing.

“I'm sorry for everything that's happened this week.” He cracks a small smile. If things could just get back to normal… “Sunflower seeds and all.”

The edges of her mouth turn up, just slightly. “I seem to remember them saving your life.”

“You saved my life. The seeds just bought me some time,” he points out.

“Yeah.” She's looking at the ground again, hand clenched around the handle of her suitcase. He swallows, shifting back and forth on his feet. “I'll see you tomorrow, Mulder,” she says finally, quietly.

"See you tomorrow, Scully,” he says back.

---

They forget it. Or at least they try. They don't talk about it at least. They work another case, in Maryland this time. Things are as normal as possible, but Mulder doesn’t flirt, doesn’t tease her. It’s worse than after the Couch Incident, but they do a lot better at pretending everything is fine. They cope.

(Scully ignores how cold the sheets feel at night. She lies half on her stomach, pressing her face into a pillow, and doesn’t think. Or tries not to.)

Her birthday comes a little over a week after the vampire case. She doesn’t mention it. She studiously avoids mentioning it. She doesn’t want any fanfare, any acknowledgement, any attempts of Mulder awkwardly wishing her any congratulations. It turns out that she doesn’t have to worry, because Mulder seems to forget it as well. No mention of the date when she comes into the office, just a head nod and a neutral, “Hi, Scully,” as she comes in, barely even looking up from his work. His usual greeting since Texas.

“Hi, Mulder,” she mutters, nodding back. She fingers her keys in her pocket, runs her thumb over the flat face of the Apollo 11 keychain from last year. Thinks of drinks and a Snowball and Mulder’s goofy grin across the table. Pushes it to the back of her mind and takes a seat. (She has successfully pushed him away now, and she can’t complain. This is what she wanted.)

Her mother calls around lunch time to wish her a happy birthday. Scully walks outside in the hall to take it, pacing around the cramped avalanche of boxes. She hasn’t spoken to her mother much since San Diego; it’s been too hard. Her mother didn’t understand, doesn’t understand. (She’d given Scully a hug as soon as she had staggered in the door after Emily had died, when Mulder had brought her back to Bill’s house. Scully had sagged into her mother’s embrace, shoulders shaking, while her mother stroked her hair and whispered soothing things into her hair. Scully remembers thinking that she understood her mother better now—they had both lost a daughter. But as time went on, while her mother was supportive, it became clear that she didn’t understand, not really. She hadn’t known what to say at the funeral. Maybe she didn’t think it was the same, Scully thought as she’d stood by Emily’s coffin. She’d lost a daughter she barely knew, a granddaughter her mother barely knew. No one seemed to know what to say to her.) Still, she pretends. Her mother politely avoids the subjects of Melissa or Emily or Matthew as they chat. Scully even smiles a few times and agrees to have dinner with her that night.

“Who was that?” Mulder inquires as she reenters the office, tapping the pen against his teeth.

“My mother,” Scully says, forcing her voice to be casual as she sits back down. “Just making dinner plans.”

The rest of the day passes in a frenzied succession, a lot faster than she expected. All in all, an uneventful birthday like she wanted. She packs up her things at five and heads out to the parking lot to meet her mother. Mulder walks behind her, to their designated parking spots right next to each other. He says it when she’s unlocking the door, her fingers curled around the keychain: “Happy birthday, Scully.”

She turns to face him just as his car door closes. She watches the car pull away, a little wistfully. “Thank you, Mulder,” she says sadly to the empty parking space.

---

Mulder is invited to attend a panel at MIT discussing a supposed abductee. He would deny if he didn’t think it was important, to reveal the truth to these people who have been blinded by this alien conspiracy. The truth is out there, and he’s found it, and he’s always wanted to expose it, to make sure people know what’s happening. There’s no such thing as aliens, and it’s a conspiracy of men. It’s men who kidnapped Scully and stole her unborn children. It’s men who were responsible for Emily’s death, an innocent little girl. They’ve ruined countless families, the Scullys and the Sims and his. They took his sister. This is the best way to bring them to justice that he can find right now.

He goes to the conference in early March and is immediately humiliated when he calls to attention the holes in the abductee Cassandra Spender’s story. Even his hypnotherapist is in disappointed disbelief at his lack of belief. (Mulder is starting to think that he is destined to be the laughing stock of every community he ventures into.) Dr. Werber takes him to meet Cassandra Spender, and he doesn’t believe her. For the first time in years, he doesn’t believe in the story of an alien abductee. She says that the story of his experience with Duane Barry saved her life, and he wants to snap, Funny, because it ruined the lives of a few people. She tells her that she is going to be called to be abducted, just like Duane Barry. She asks for help he can’t give, and he tells her so. If he can’t even save Scully, if he can’t save her daughter or his sister or himself, then how can he save Cassandra Spender?

By the next morning, he’s back in the office and Scully is ribbing him for his new skeptical reputation, complete with a front-page headline. Things have cooled off enough between him and Scully by now; it almost feels normal. “Shouldn't that be my picture next to the headline?” she says as she throws the newspaper onto his desk, almost teasing. (Actually teasing. He can't even remember the last time that happened.) “Or is that just you having a little fun?”

She's surprised by his change of heart, that is clear—even after everything that happened last spring with Michael Kritschgau—and even more interested in Cassandra Spender’s abduction from Skyland Mountain, the site of her own abduction, and the implant in Cassandra’s neck. Mulder can see the similarities clearly, which is why he suspects that the same thing happened to both of them—they were abducted by the government, taken from the same place in an attempt to keep up the alien facade. He doesn't dare tell Scully that—he doubts she's in any mood to hear it. And besides that, he has no particular faith in Cassandra Spender’s story. If she was enamoured by the Duane Barry story, than she likely could've gotten the details of Scully's abduction somehow and fabricated her own testimony to sound similar.

Scully doesn't seem to think so. Her eyes are wide with worry as she flips through Cassandra’s file. Mulder doesn't bother trying to convince her; he just leaves her alone with it. Apparently Jeffrey Spender (son of purported abductee Cassandra) has told Scully that he wants Mulder to stay away from his mother. Apparently this Jeffrey Spender is an FBI agent. This is the last thing he needs, to be mixed up in the Spender family drama. He leaves in an attempt to remove himself from the situation. The pursuit of aliens is futile—exposing the government conspiracy who took Scully feels entirely more important.

---

Scully is intrigued by what she finds in Cassandra Spender’s file, even if Mulder isn't. Her testimony feels too familiar, her story nearly the same—except she wasn't brought to Skyland Mountain bound and gagged in the trunk of her own car. Scully swallows as she taps the sheath of paper against the tabletop to straighten them. She is thinking less of the abduction itself and more of the side effects. The cancer. Emily.

She decides, definitively, to go and warn Cassandra Spender. If only because their abduction stories are so similar. If only because she wants to tell her, You might want to be careful. Don't provoke the government, or they'll kill your family and try to kill your partner. Don't take out the fucking piece of shrapnel your abductors put in your neck, or your entire family might have to watch you slowly, painfully die. And don't go looking for any children you may or may not have, the ones that they stole from you. You may have to watch them die, helpless to save them. You won't be able to save them.

She doesn't tell Cassandra about Emily. She tells her about the chip. She'd intended to ask Cassandra questions about her experience, to look for the kind of ally in the older woman that Mulder can never provide. But Cassandra, while understanding and having a strange memory of her (almost the way that Penny Northern did), is utterly the opposite. She won't take the chip out, she tells Scully, because she wants to be taken. She wants to go. She claims the aliens are healers, and they chose Scully because she is a healer herself. Funny, Scully thinks, smiling through clenched teeth, they don't seem very much like healers to me, seeing as how they left me half-dead in a hospital bed. But she doesn't say any of this. She leaves with a polite, “Thank you for your time,” though Cassandra seems like she wants Scully to stay longer. Scully had planned to ask Cassandra if she'd ever found any hybrid children (if they'd lived), but she finds she can't. The words are trapped low in her chest, and she can't bring herself to talk about her experience. She can't even say Emily’s name out loud.

Scully drives home with the radio blasting to try and clear her head. But her mind keeps reverting back to Cassandra’s hospital room. You're feeling it, too, aren't you? she'd said, touching the back of Scully's neck, right over her chip. (Mulder had the spot memorized—he'd cover it with his hand, kiss her neck right in that exact spot, stroke it with the pads of his fingers like it was holier than thou—so she had memorized it, too.) Here, Cassandra had said with wonder, touching the spot. You wake up at night knowing you need to be somewhere, but you don't know where it is. Like you forgot an appointment you didn't know you had.

Scully shivers, turning up the volume on the radio. She feels something like a phantom tingling in the back of her neck. Is it just in her head, courtesy of Cassandra’s words? Or is it, is it really…

No. Scully pulls off on the side of the road and breathes until the rhythm is steady, rubs at her face and pulls back onto the road. She'd call Mulder if he hadn't made things clear—he's done with alien abductions, Cassandra Spender, and maybe even with her, in any sense outside of partnership.

(She doesn't know, doesn't know what she was thinking in Dallas, doesn't know what she wants. But she misses him. And it's hard to navigate this without him, looking for answers.)

Scully climbs home and takes a scorching shower before going to bed. She casts a wary eye at the chair shoved under the door of the spare (Emily’s) room. It hasn't moved since January.

---

Mulder calls her early in the morning. “Hey, Scully, it's me,” he says into the phone. “There's something Skinner needs us to check out.”

Scully sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes, suddenly desperately hoping that it's anything but government conspiracies and Cassandra Spender. “What is it?” she asks groggily.

There's a long pause before Mulder says, “Burn victims on Skyland Mountain. A lot of them.” He sounds sorry.

Scully's eyes widen, kicking the blankets away. “What?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says grimly. “Skinner seemed to think this was in our usual criteria, although I have my suspicions. But he wants us up there as soon as possible. Will you be okay? I can cover for you.”

Scully takes in a deep breath, balling her fists under the blankets. She can do this. There is no reason she shouldn't be able to do this. It's been nearly four years, Duane Barry is dead, there is nothing to be afraid of. She is fine. “I'll be fine,” she says shortly. “Want me to meet you?”

“No, I'll pick you up in about an hour. Easier to carpool. Saves the planet,” Mulder says before hanging up. She can interpret his tone, even if she can't figure out his shortness: he is scared, too.

She dresses quickly and eats a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, telling herself that she will be fine. (She will, even if she's drawing a map in her head and half of the recent tragedies can be traced directly back to that night on Skyland Mountain.) She waits for Mulder at the front of the building and pushes back images of a shattered window and Duane Barry’s wild eyes. She climbs in the front seat and greets Mulder in a soft voice. He offers her a tense smile in return.

She watches out the window on the way up. She has never seen this road before, even if she's driven it. All she remembers of the trip is the winding road, the nausea building in her stomach as she lay in the dark, stale cloth choking her as she wriggled her wrists in the knots. She’d felt like she was suffocating.

She hadn't screamed after he'd gotten her in the trunk, outside of the encounter with the state trooper. She hadn't seen the point; no one would hear her, and she needed to focus. She spent the entire trip trying to untie her hands until her fingers were ragged and numb. To no avail; the knots had stayed tight. As soon as they'd reached the top of the mountain, Duane had untied her feet before hauling her out of the trunk, shoving her over the hill in a stumbling walk as she fought for balance with pins and needles coursing through her pinned hands. She hadn't screamed in the trunk, but she screamed when she saw the lights, the dish towel he'd retrieved from her kitchen muffling the noise, struggling against the hands that held her in place. Sometimes, when she'd had nightmares about it afterwards, she imagined she'd heard Mulder's voice calling for her right before it all went black. Like he almost managed to save her.

There was nothing between the light, blinding her, and waking up in the hospital room. Maybe the faint memory of the voices of Melissa and Mulder and her mother and father and the whispers of a nurse that didn't exist. But nothing substantial. It all faded away in that light.

Emily was in that light. She's wondered, before, if she ever knew her daughter. If they had a sped-up way of developing the babies. She wonders if she ever held her, if they had to physically rip her baby away. If she screamed and cried and fought. If she named her Emily. If she was a mother, even for a few minutes. If Emily was the only one. She'll never know, but she wonders. God, she wonders.

Scully relives that moment again and again on the drive, head resting against the window. It's not vivid enough that she's screaming out, panicking, but it's vivid enough that tears start sliding down her face. She wipes them away quickly and hopes Mulder doesn't notice. He does, she realizes, when he reaches over and takes her hand. She doesn't protest. She thinks about her abduction down to the last detail, because it's impossible not to think about something you tell yourself not to think about, right up until they reach the top. When she sees the corpses, smells them, Duane Barry is gone from her head, replaced with this fresh new horror. She suddenly remembers what Cassandra said the night before. The way she touched her chip. Oh, god, Scully thinks in horror as she sees the carnage. Oh my god.

She is a medical doctor who autopsies victims for a living, but that doesn't make the situation any easier to take on. All these people, unidentifiable. All these people who suffered. Their families will think they are coming home, until they get that dreaded phone call. (She pushes back the thought that it might’ve been her, that it might be Cassandra out there somewhere. Because it can't be, it can't. She refuses to believe. This can’t be her future.) She and Mulder pace through the charred corpses; Mulder disappears into the smoky field (thick over the land like a strange fog) while she walks over to the shelter to talk to the investigators. They confirm what she instinctively knew: everyone who came here last night is dead.

Mulder appears again, coming under the shelter and calling to her, “Are there any survivors?”

“No. Not as of this moment.” She steps over a row and lands on his other side.

They walk together through the yellow-bagged bodies. “From the smell…” says Mulder gravely.

“They've all been burned, and there are plenty more who are still being bagged as we speak,” Scully says, just as gravely. She wonders. She wonders if they are indeed abductees. She wonders if she is next.

“Any preliminary theories?”

“Well, it appears they all came by car.” They stop together, turning to face each other. “Most of the dead are congregated in a wooded area a short distance off the road.” More of the dead on Skyland Mountain. Skinner told her once that Mulder spent night after night on Skyland Mountain, looking for her. The word body was implied—Skinner looking at her apologetically over the top of his glasses—but she knew better. Mulder had never thought her dead. It's not the way he thinks about the people he loves and loses. He still believes his sister is alive after over twenty years.

“Self-immolation?” he's asking now, looking off into the distance.

“There's no evidence of that right now. There's no accelerants, no incindiary device.”

“And what was their relationship to each other? Were they families?”

Abductees, she thinks. “There's no way to ID their bodies right now. It's going to be a painstaking dental process.” She doesn't know what game he's playing; he would've made the connection a long time ago if he was looking for goddamn aliens. “Mulder, why are you tiptoeing around the obvious fact here? I mean, this is Skyland Mountain. We're right back here on Skyland Mountain.” See the connections, Mulder, please.

“And you think it's related to your abduction from the same place?” he asks. He's looking at her now, asking her in a way that makes her sound idiotic. Like the connection isn't obvious, like being here isn't enough.

She tries to push back the irritation building up in her throat. She remembers walking this way, Duane Barry’s bloody fingers clenched in her hair. How helpless she felt, how frightened. Nausea in her stomach. She swallows and says, “Well, you can't deny the connection.”

“You think this is some kind of abduction scenario?”

She says, frustrated, “No... I'm not saying that.”

“Do you have any evidence of that?”

He is absolutely infuriating. “What do you mean by evidence?”

“That's what I'm asking you.”

She sighs wearily. She does not have time for this. She wants to leave here, especially if he thinks there's no substance to any of this. “Well, are you going to give me your theory, then?”

“No,” he says determinedly. She blinks in confusion. “I'm going to give you an explanation,” he declares. And with that, he walks off.

Scully watches him walk away for a minute before she looks away. She doesn't understand why he is being this way. Why he can't understand. Why doesn't he understand? He was here, he knows what happened. He should understand. But as usual, he's hyperfocused on the so-called truth that he's ignoring all the evidence. Except now the evidence is right up his alley, and he's still ignoring it. And she doesn't see how. Pursuing this lead may be it, their chance to bring down the people who killed her daughter. And he's ignoring it.

She walks after him through the remainder of the smoke, pushing down the hurt lump in her throat.“Mulder?” she calls, catching up to him at the car. “What do you mean, you're going to give an explanation? What, exactly, are you going to explain?”

“I'm going to find out why this happened,” says Mulder, headed for the car. “I'm going to prove that it has nothing to do with alien abduction.”

“So what is your explanation?” She steps in front of him, blocking the car and tipping her chin up to give him a meaningful, nudging look. “How are you going to explain that a popular abduction site—a site where I was abducted, by men or extraterrestrial entities—was also the site of a mass burning? How does that work?”

He looks a little hurt, too. “I'm just trying to find the truth, Scully,” he says quietly. “And I want to focus on the facts so I'm not ignoring them. That I'm not so sidetracked that I never get to the people who did this to you.”

Scully's shoulders sag a little in defeat. She thinks of her dream where Mulder is calling out for her as the light rises up and swallows her whole. He is doing this for her, just not… not the way she'd expect. Maybe not the way she needs. “I understand that, Mulder,” she says, just as quietly. “But you are ignoring facts. Facts right in front of your nose. I just don't know how you can't see it.”

He doesn't say anything, and neither does she. They don't break eye contact. They just stare at each other for a minute until Scully's phone rings. She turns away and answers. “Hello?”

“Agent Scully, it's Cassandra Spender,” Cassandra says on the other side. She sounds extremely distraught.

“Cassandra?” Scully digs her fingers in the hem of her pocket. “What is it?”

“I need to see you right away. You and Agent Mulder.” She sounds on the verge of tears. “I need to talk to you about the events at Skyland Mountain. I can't discuss it over the phone. Please come, Agent Scully, please.”

Scully sucks a breath through her teeth. “We'll be there,” she says shortly. A lead, any lead, is worth it.

“Hurry,” Cassandra says desperately before hanging up.

Scully turns back to Mulder, tucking her phone into her coat. “You're going to get an explanation, Mulder, although you might not like the source. We're going to meet Cassandra Spender. She wants to talk about what happened here.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows, chewing on his lower lip. “I'm still not entirely sure she's the most reliable source.”

“Reliable or not, she's the only one we have. If she has any insight, we should hear her out.” Scully climbs into the car.

“Didn't Jeffrey Spender ask you to keep me away from his mother?” Mulder asks.

“If we're good at anything, Mulder, it’s breaking the rules,” she says, crossing her ankles. He huffs out a surprised laugh and smiles tentatively at her. She doesn't smile back. She stares out the windshield and doesn't picture the light blinding her. Doesn't think.

---

Cassandra claims she knew the dead on Skyland Mountain, that it isn't supposed to be happening this way. She tells them that they have to stop it, but she says she doesn't know who they have to stop. Jeffrey Spender shows up right after they do, motioning them out into the hall to tell them he doesn't appreciate them being here. He claims Cassandra was part of a cult, that the mass burning victims were part of the same cult. Mulder agrees with Jeffrey that Cassandra’s claims amount to nothing before the two men walk off in opposite directions, leaving her alone in the car. Scully isn't so sure. She feels a strange connection to Cassandra, an understanding. The way she connected to Penny Northern. She wants to save Cassandra the way she couldn't save Penny. But she doesn't know if she can, not alone. She doesn't even know if she can save herself.

Defeated, she trails after Mulder, a few feet behind him. She ignores the feeling in the back of her neck, almost like a buzzing. Like a pull.

the parts about mulder touching/kissing the scar from scully’s chip is a tribute to truncated; an excellent fluff piece of which portions make me melt inside.

#this chapter is too fucking long (but the next one is longer)#xf fanfic #xf rewatch #i wrote this

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