#i was coughing all over my keyboard for this fic guys. i am so full of cold germs

[crayonverse]

but you don’t know anymore,

                                                WHEN DID YOU FORGET?

--

short thing about breach pre-event + her meeting vk :]] i heart breach <33

                       -- Breach is written as Trans Fem + Van Kleiss is                           interchangeably referred as a man and a non-man.

                       -- Religious themes/trauma, Mental Abuse References                            Self-Dehumanization, Brief Transphobia

                       -- Breach’s POV / Over Shoulder, 1198 words, ao3 link

--

She’s unsure of when she went EVO.

At first, the news told her about these monsters, things that came crawling out of hell to collapse the world she knows. Her parents, they seemed concerned. Were they at risk for the rapture? Breach often wondered that. Was her family doomed, forgotten?

They didn’t seem to care for her anymore. Talk of nanites and horrible creatures accelerated. Her parents seemed more scared everyday. She didn’t know what to believe, but her family was hellbent on her staying at home. Safe from the demons. From the world outside.

That changed one day, when she herself went EVO. Her parents suddenly threw her out, their fear outweighed their love. She understood that. She had become a freak of nature, something God would smite and damn to hell.

Maybe her parents always believed her to be a freak, something... wrong. This was just the world correcting it’s mistake when she was born, making her worse than before.

She discovered her unnatural powers fairly quickly, when she was running from the newly formed Providence. at first, she believed her elongated limbs and growth of new ones was all she got from this event, that all she became was a hideous freak and was destined to become like every other creature that Providence hauled away. She wasn’t sure what happened to them, all she knew was that Providence’s methods were kill or contain, and she wasn’t a fan of either options.

All that she knew was that she needed to escape the men in monochrome outfits. She discovered her portals after defending herself from a gunshot, desperate to save herself, despite how horrible she was, and how she didn’t deserve to live.

She didn’t know where the shots ended up, all she knew was that she could escape. She didn’t understand them, but she thought of a place, somewhere safe, it didn’t matter where it was, along as she was far from Providence.

She woke in a forest. Mud clung to her clothes, roots climbed from trees to her arms and stomach, like they were trying to catch her in a net. She struggled to escape the roots, not knowing how to portal herself away.

She stopped struggling when she noticed blooming red flowers, so delicate and beautiful, sprouting from the ground in an instant. She looked up to a slightly disheveled looking older man (?), missing one of his arms.

“Hmm... Not what I was anticipating when Biowulf said there was an intruder...” He leaned down, looking at Breach’s face (Or what he could see of it), looking to her large hands and her newly formed pair.

“How did you get here, young...” He trailed off, noticing her longer hair and skirt, but a somewhat familiar appearance. The roots let go of her, and she brushed mud off her clothing.

“... I want to be a lady, but everyone says I’m not.”

“Well, you can certainly be one here.” He extended a hand to her, and she took it immediately, appreciating the help. The older man (?) (She couldn’t exactly tell herself) waved his existing hand around, and the trees bent to his will, creating a hauntingly beautiful path for her to follow along. She continued to stare at the ground, watching the pretty flowers sprout from nothing, blooming despite the cold and deary atmosphere.

As the trees dwindled away, she caught sight of a crumbling castle, something she’d only see in her dreams or a storybook. Roots and vines seemed to hold it together, keeping all the large pieces from falling into the dirt below, where a large plot of land was being tended to by a creature she’d seen on the news.

The older person noticed her fear of the creature, and simply laughed. It sounded polite, but she couldn’t tell.

“Don’t worry. He’s not dangerous.” He waved to the creature, who used one of it’s three amalgamated arms to wave back. She raised her hand as well, waving back.

They walked in a calm silence for some time, and when they were close to the castle, the older person turned and stopped.

“I never got your name, young lady.”

“... I...” She wasn’t sure what it was anymore.

“I can go first then. My name is Van Kleiss.” Van Kleiss placed a hand on her shoulder and it... calmed her. Why was that? It was so simple, such a normal way to express a polite affection, and yet...

She had never felt that before. Affection that truly cared. Was that the feeling she had? Van Kleiss was the first adult to not immediately wish harm on her the second she was spotted by them.

Van Kleiss continued forward, to the crumbling castle, and she managed to keep up with him. Although, it seemed easy with how winded it seemed as he climbed.

“I should ask again, how did you get into Abysus?”

“Abysus...?” She thinks she heard that name before, some country in Europe.

Right, she heard it because... because Abysus is where it started. Where her pain started. She heard about an explosion, releasing nanites into the world, infecting those everywhere. Even plants were not safe.

She hesitated before responding. “...I created a portal.” That made Van Kleiss hesitate too.

“A... Portal? You teleported here?”

“I... Think so.”

“Fascinating.” Van Kleiss concluded, and she felt a sense of... what was it? Happiness? Van Kleiss didn’t believe her to be a freak of nature, something to be dissected and experimented on. He found her... fascinating.

The two had entered the castle, where two other creatures with abnormal features awaited. Both akin to a large lizard and the other a large robot wolf.

“Is that the intruder, master?” The wolf spoke first, pointing a long claw towards her. On a newfound instinct, she hid behind Van Kleiss. He looked down at her, but she couldn’t tell if it was with pity or parental guidance.

“Biowulf, this is...” He paused, then knelt beside her, studying her face yet again.

“How do you feel about Breach?”

“Breach...?”

“As a name.” He clarified. She paused herself, thinking it over. Breach. It felt... powerful. Something to be proud of. It felt like a title, something important. Van Kleiss gave an expectant look, and she nodded in response, smiling for the first time at him.

“Breach! Wonderful.” Van Kleiss created a tree bark arm in an instant, clapping in response. His tree bark dissipated the second it was made, returning him to his one armed state.

She smiled again. It felt so natural.

Breach. A name with a title to hold up. To be someone Van Kleiss could trust, someone he’d care for.

It didn’t matter to Breach what happened to her, Van Kleiss was the first person to help her. She ignored his changing behavior, she ignored how he became more unforgiving, how he became more mean. It was just him, her guardian. She would let his faults go on, and everything would work out for her.

Because there was no one else she could turn too. Nobody else she could see with her view in life.

Until she had the chance to meet the fairly insistent cure of Providence.

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

13 Going on 30 pt.1

A Peter Maximoff x reader fanfiction based off the movie 13 going on 30.

Summary:  You are so excited when the most popular girl in your school agrees to come to your 13th birthday party. But after a cruel prank you find yourself wishing that you were popular and older. By some miracle your wish is granted but isn’t as wonderful as it seems. You turn out to be a major jerk and you don't even talk to your best friend Peter anymore. Can you fix everything and get back to normal or are you stuck living like this forever 

Warnings: Angst and some suggestive content. But it’s mostly pure fluff. (Also peter has no powers in this and some scenes will be changed to better fit Peter and so I can be creative with it!)

Word Count: 2759

I am so excited to share this fic with y’all! 13 going on 30 is one of my favorite comfort movies and I thought that adding Peter Maximoff to it would make it even better. 

It was 1987 and your birthday party was next week. You were so excited you could barely contain yourself. You were turning 13, you were finally becoming a teenager. It was time to abandon all childish things and live a life of adventure and romance. One that all the movies told you was guaranteed once you became a teenager. You were writing in your notebook during lunch checking off the things you had already gotten for your birthday party. “Balloons, check. Party favors, check. The cutest outfit, check!” 

“Your best friend in the whole world who is getting you the best present. Check!” Peter added as he sat down across from you, dropping his lunch tray down on the table. You just rolled our eyes at him.“So I was thinking for this year we should go to the arcade then get ice cream.” Peter muttered his mouth full of the school’s signature sloppy joe sandwich. “Cause if I eat too much ice cream before we play that dance game you love, I'm gonna get sick again.” Some of the sandwich meat dripped out of the corner of his mouth. You handed him a napkin to wipe it, not even disgusted at this point. 

You and Peter had been best friends since birth. You had lived right next to each other as kids and you had done everything together. Learning how to walk, the loss of your first tooth, the first day of school. Always together no matter what. That’s what made you so nervous to tell him what was on your mind. “Actually, I was thinking of having a party this year.” You gave him a nervous smile. 

“What?!” He choked out in the midst of a coughing fit having nearly choked on his milk. Kids turned around to look at him and you shushed him. ”Peter stop shouting.” You scolded through gritted teeth. 

 He spoke up again this time, his voice back to it’s normal level. “But it’s always just us.”

You winced, you had figured he was going to respond like this. “I know, I know. But hear me out.” Peter sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “Lucy said she’d come to the party this year, and she’d bring Dylan! You know how much I like him.” You gushed and Peter narrowed his eyes at you. 

“How did you convince the most popular girl in school to come to your party?”

“Way harsh peter.” You reached over to his tray attempting to steal one of his fries. His hand slapped yours away. “You make it sound like she doesn't even know I exist.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, you and I are at the bottom of the social food chain and you know it.” He pushed his chair back even further, now only balancing on two legs. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” You defended. 

He held your gaze with narrowed eyes as you tired your best to maintain eye contact. The minute you looked away he knew he had you. “I know you're lying (y/n). When you can’t look me in the eye you’re hiding something. Spill it.” 

You muttered really quickly. “Imayormaynothavedoneherhomeworkforthepastmonth.” 

He gave you an exasperated look. “What?”

“I said I may or may not have done her homework for the past month.”

He gave you a disapproving look. “Don’t look at me like that. “ You pouted. “It was the only way she was going to bring Dylan.” 

“I don't even know why you want that guy at your party. Or Lucy for that matter. They’re all a bunch of jerks.” Peter got up to put his tray away. You shoved your notebook back into your bag and got up to follow him. 

“You don’t even know them Peter.”

“Neither do you.” You frowned at him before turning on your heel and walking away from him. “(y/n) wait.” You sped up and he sped up with you. He caught up to you and grabbed your arm. You refused to look at him. 

Peter’s harsh look softened and his grip on your arm loosed. “Look.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “ I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I won’t especially not with my best friend around.” You bumped your shoulder into his. He returned your smile after a while and your face lit up. “It’s going to be fun!” 

“If you say so.”

On the day of your party you couldn't even sit still for a single second. Pacing by the front door waiting for Lucy and her friends to arrive. The doorbell rang and you threw open the door, but your smile dropped when you saw it was just Peter. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Geez, it's good to see you too.” He pushed his way into your house as you closed the door behind him. 

“Sorry I just thought it was Lucy.”

“And you were disappointed when it was me.” He joked making himself at home on your couch.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I get it. Suddenly you get new friends and I’m old news. Hung out to dry. Dead and buried without a moment to grieve.” He milked his performance trying to make you feel guilty. You sat down next to him knocking his feet off your mother’s coffee table. 

“Shut up.” You laughed, he watched you and smiled. You noticed the keyboard strapped to his chest and groaned. “Did you have to bring your keyboard?”

“Duh. It’s part of your gift.” 

“I hope that’s not all you got me.”

“Hey!” He mocked being hurt by your words. “And it’s not by the way.” He sat up and made his way to your front door. “I gotta go get it, I left it on your doorstep.” He opened the door and was gone for a minute, making you anxious with anticipation. He poked his head through the doorway and a sweet smile plastered on his lips. “Close your eyes.”

You quickly covered your eyes with your hands. You heard Peter’s sneakers shuffling as he made his way closer to you. “No peeking.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are, I can see you looking through the slits of your fingers.” You giggled at the accusation and squeezed your eyes even tighter. You felt the couch dip from his weight as he sat back down next to you. You feel his hands close around yours, and the small action making you blush. He carefully removed your hands from your eyes. “Ta-da!” 

Sitting on the coffee table front of you was a huge handmade pink doll house. “I decided to make you your own (y/n) dream house.” Your eyes widened taking it all in. It was beautiful.

“Petey did you make all this?” You asked, heart swelling at the sweet action. 

“Yeah,” He admitted a little embarrassed. He scooted closer to the table. “See that’s you in your bubble bath. Reading your favorite magazine” It was a Barbie doll with a picture of your face tape on it. You giggled.” And there’s your room with the giant closet you’ve always wanted and a huge stereo collection. I know how much you love music. And there’s that bum Rick Springfield, sitting on the couch.” As you took in all the details you fell even more in love with the house. Peter had put so much time into this and you adored it.

 “And uh, there’s me.” He smiled sheepishly. A picture of him was glued to a piece of cardboard. His picture was making that ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Rick Springfield. “I’m making sure that creep keeps his hands to himself. He’s only here for his musical talents, nothing else.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and for a second you could have sworn he glanced down at your lips. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He pulled out a red packet and shook it lightly. “Wishing dust.” 

You scooted closer to him so you guys could read the package together. “It says wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts. They’ll make all your dreams come true.” He whispered the last part, his eyes cast downward as you watched him rip open the package. He stood up and sprinkled the dust down on the house. You watched in wonder as all the different colors rained down together and decorated the whole house in a pretty shimmer. Your eyes met his and you could feel yourself tearing up. He was so sweet and he didn't even know how much this meant to you. 

Just then the doorbell rang and you jumped to your feet. “They’re here!” You wiped away the tears that threatened to fall really quickly before dashing to the door.

“Yay.” Peter cheered sarcastically. You ignored him and sprinted to open the door. Lucy was there along with her friends and Dylan in the back. She was wearing a neon pink dress, the same one you had begged your mom to buy you last week. She had said no obviously. 

“Hi Lucy! Thanks for coming!” She just gave you a tight smile and let herself in. She looked around your living room and a sneer made its way to her face when she saw Peter on your couch fiddling with his keyboard. 

“Sup Freak.” Lucy shot Peter a sickly sweet smile.

“Sup slut.” Peter replied, mirroring her smile. You felt your mouth open in shock and shot him a deadly look. Lucy just pressed on trying to get a reaction out of Peter.

“I see your hair is still as gray and as ugly as ever.”

“At least my hair is naturally this color. From the look of your roots you should really look into getting a better stylist. You ain’t fooling anybody honey.” 

They continued to glare at each other until Lucy finally broke away from his gaze and turned to face you. “Where is this party happening anyway.” 

“It’s um downstairs, in the basement.” You motioned towards it, Lucy and her friends made their way down the steps. Peter followed them carrying your dollhouse, but you held your arm out to stop him. “What was that? Why were you being such a jerk?” 

“She started it!” 

You huffed. “I know, but it’s my party so please try to be nice to her.” He opened his mouth to say something but then decided against it. He pushed past your arm and went down the stairs to the basement. Taking two at a time. 

“So this is it.” Lucy picked at the neon colored table cloth. You didn't know what to say as she looked around. “What are we going to do anyway?”

“Well we could play twister, Peter is really good at it.” Peter gave a small salute in acknowledgement as they glanced towards him. “Or we could watch a movie.”’ You said excitedly, making your way over to the VHS rack.” I have a lot of good ones.``

“Lame.” Lucy announced and her friends echoed in agreement. 

You felt embarrassed of thinking that they would enjoy such childish things. “Why don't we play a new game?” Lucy suggested.

“What kind of game?” Peter asked, suspicion laced in his tone.

“A fun one.” She made her way towards you and placed her hand on your shoulder as she turned to address Peter. “Not that you would know anything about fun Maximoff.”

“Not that you would know anything about fun.” Peter mocked back in a high pitched tone.

  “Real mature.” Peter stuck his tongue out at her.

She turned back to you. “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven.” She leaned in even closer. “You can go first (y/n), and I think you’ll like who you get.” She glanced back and you followed her gaze towards Dylan. He shot you a smile and you felt yourself blush. 

All of a sudden you heard your mom. “(y/n)!” Your mother yelled down the stairs. “Your cake is here come and get it!”

“Peter go get it.” Lucy commanded.

“What? No.” He scoffed. You met his gaze and shot him a pleading look. “Fine.” He put the dollhouse away in your closet on the top shelf and made his way to the stairs. “Thanks Petey.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Lucy took off her scarf from around her neck and placed it over your eyes, knotting it tightly in the back. She led you towards the closet and you felt your heart rate pick up. You could hear the giggles of her friends as they closed the door. You stood there in the darkness waiting for Dylan to come in. It had been a while since Lucy had led you to the closet, you sat down putting your arms around your knees hugging them close. 

Peter came back down the stairs carrying your cake, as he was coming down Lucy was going up the stairs, her friends trailing behind her. “Hey where are you going?” 

She didn't answer, just smiled at him placing a hand on his shoulder. “(y/n) is waiting for you in the closet.” He gave her a confused look, he didn't know he was part of this game. Lucy and her friends continued up the steps, Dylan swiped your cake with his finger smearing the icing and eating it. Peter yanked it away and continued down into the basement. Madonna was playing softly in the background, he put the cake on the table and made his way to the closet, opening the door. He saw you sitting there  on the floor, you upon hearing the door squeak open were smiling up at him. “I didn't think you were going to come.”

He nervously smiled back at you and sat down on the floor across from you. You reached your hands out towards him. “Where are you?” He let his hands find yours, fingers intertwined in one another. He had held your hand before but this time it felt so different. He saw you lean in and he did the same. He was inches away from your lips when you whispered. “Oh Dylan.” He pulled back abruptly. 

“It’s not Dylan, It’s Peter.” You yanked your hands away from his and tore the scarf away from your eyes.

 “What are you doing here?” You felt panic take over you. “Where is Dylan?”

“He left. They all did, no one is here.” You stood up and saw that Peter was right. Your snack table stood untouched and Lucy, and Dylan were no where to be found. You immediately turned on Peter. “What did you do?” 

Peter looked at you in disbelief. “Nothing!”

“Yes you did!” You were screaming at him at this point.

“I just went to get your cake!” He screamed back. 

“Get out.” you whispered. Peter looked at you, clearly hurt that you were pushing him away. “GET OUT!” You screamed as you pushed him out of the closet. 

“(y/n) wait!” He tried holding the door open as you desperately tried shutting it. “(y/n) let me talk to you!” 

“Peter stop.” You cried. 

“(y/n)-”

“No!” You managed to shut the door and lock it. You sat back down on the floor and put the blindfold back over your eyes.

“(y/n) Please!” You could hear Peter on the other side of the door even with your hands covering your ears. “Please come out!”

“I hate you!” You screamed as his voice stopped. 

“You don’t mean that.” He muttered, tears of his own threatening to spill.

“Yes I do! I hate you! I hate me! I hate everything!” You were so angry and embarrassed and that you really thought Lucy was your friend. And that you were going to get to kiss Dylan.

“(y/n) what are you talking about?”

“I want to be thirty!” You wailed through your tears.

“Just let me play you this song.” Peter yelled back. He slung his keyboard over his head and started to mess with it trying to find the right key. “It’ll make you feel better!” 

You ignored him continuing to cry. “I wanna be thirty! I wanna be thirty and flirty and thriving.” You swing your head back shaking the shelf behind you. The wishing dust from the dollhouse fell down all around you but you didn't even notice. You could faintly hear Peter playing some tune on his keyboard but you ignored it. Just muttering through your tears over and over how you wanted to be thirty, flirty and thriving. At the moment you wanted to be anywhere but there.

[iamdunn]

Miraculous One Shot: Truth Singer

A Miraculous Fan-Fic Musical Episode

Written by

AJ Dunn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chickened out.” Mylene added

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

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

“Dropped the letter into the sewer.” Juleka muttered

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because a cat's the only cat

Who knows where it's at”

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

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

'Cause everything else is obsolete

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

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

“Every time he plays

But with a square in the act

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When everybody wants to be a cat

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

Every time he plays

Oh, a rinky-tinky-tinky

With a square in the act you can set music back

To the caveman days”

 

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

“Yes, everybody wants to be a cat

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

When playin' jazz you always has a welcome mat

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

 

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Hallelujah!

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Everybody, everybody, everybody wants to be a cat

Everybody, everybody

 

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

 

“You're the light, you're the night

You're the color of my blood

You're the cure, you're the pain

You're the only thing I wanna touch

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

 

“You're the fear, I don't care

'Cause I've never been so high

Follow me through the dark

Let me take you past our satellites

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

 

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

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

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

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

What are you waiting for?”

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

“Fading in, fading out

On the edge of paradise

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

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

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

“I'll let you set the pace

'Cause I'm not thinking straight

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

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

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

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

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

What are you, what are you waiting for?

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

““I'll let you set the pace

'Cause I'm not thinking straight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Ladybug.” She whimpered. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Spots on.” 

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

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

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

[samanthadalton]

Slowly falling (part 3 finale)

And here we are!! last part of the fic, I hope you guys enjoyed it. I ended it just at the end of the pool scene but I know in my version, Nicole is dead so the story would obviously play out different. So in this version, Nicole is actually a vampire and when Kamilah buried her, it helped Nicole not turn feral since Vega fed her his blood before the attack on the castle. So Nicole would obviously come out during the tribunal to back up Vega’s claims in which Adrian would be found guilty and then the gang will break him out and you guys know the rest :)

also i took some lines from the book, bc the pool scene is just too good :))))

slightly NSFW (but quite tame but I’ll tag it as that anyway)  also mentions of death 

taglist: @cloud9in @alleycat97 @thedaft1 @mrs-avamontjoy @itszdavenport @iamsimpforpoppy @otakufangirl-12 @orisasay @justavampirefan @waterinathermostat @bloodkueen @dimis-yiddies @alexlabhont @thepotatobleh @mara-re @fundamentalromantic 

wordcount: 2.5k 

Amy wakes up, dazed. Her eyelids feel heavy as she blinks away the last remains of her sleep, wondering when she went to sleep in the first place. As she takes in her surroundings, she sees she’s in Kamilah’s office, laying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, unsure of where it has come from as the sun begins to set. She rubs her eyes sitting up to see Lily typing away at Kamilah’s desk, looking slightly zombified as her fingers fly over the keyboard. 

“Hey Lil?” As if in her own world, Lily continues typing, her eyes never leaving the screen. Amy amplifies her voice louder to capture her attention, “Lily!” 

“Huh,” Lily jerks her head up, her concentration breaking. “Hey Ames.” She tiredly rubs at her eyes, shaking her head a little before mustering a small smile, “sleep well?” 

Amy yawns a little smiling back, “yeah, this couch is pretty comfy. Thanks for the blanket.” 

“Oh that was Kamilah, I haven’t gotten out of this chair since we’ve come back from the gala.” Lily stretches before continuing with her typing, already back in full attention. Amy looks down at the blanket, hugging it closer to her body, feeling a glimmer of something she can’t quite put her finger on. 

“So have you found any evidence yet?” 

Lily shakes her head, “whatever Vega is hiding, he’s done a damn good job because it’s heavily encrypted, I’ve broken past so many firewalls but it feels like there's millions.” Lily runs hand down her face, “Oh yeah, Kamilah said that if you wanted to clean up she left a key to one of the rooms.” Lily gestures towards the table before refocusing. Amy stands, and swipes the key from the table before making her way to the room to clean up. Once she’s finished taking a shower, Amy chooses a new outfit from the closet and makes her way back to the office. 

“Good you’re here.” Kamilah lets her gaze roam Amy’s body for a few seconds before meeting her eyes. Amy can see the fatigueness in her demeanour, how her body is slightly slumped and her hair slightly frizzled. 

“Are there any updates?” 

Kamilah shakes her head, “not yet. If only Lily could do her job better we could actually get the evidence,” Kamilah retorts, a hint of malice in her tone. 

Frustrated Lily slams down on the desk, “hey I’ve been working on this all day. My skills are the best of the best, it’s just Vega’s is better.” Lily, downcast, looks down at the screen, her head spiralling at the sight of the numbers on the screen. 

Kamilah sighs heavily, her head hanging low, “I apologize. I’m just frustrated.” Lily musters a small smile and continues typing away on the keyboard but Kamilah stands from her chair and lays her hand over the young vampire’s stopping her, “I think that’s enough.” 

“But Adrian-” 

“He will know we did our best with the time we had. There are only a couple of hours until the tribunal, it’s inconsequential at this point.” 

“But how will we know what Vega is hiding?” Amy interferes. 

Kamilah looks at Amy, “we won’t until it’s presented.” Her head turns back to Lily, “I think since you and Amy were at the castle it’s only fitting that you two testify on Adrian’s behalf.”  

“Of course,” the girls say simultaneously. 

Kamilah gives a satisfied nod, ”we’ll reconvene in an hour, I’m going to go for a swim. Lily you should get some sleep.” Kamilah makes her way to the door but before she leaves she throws her head over her shoulder, her eyes blazing into Amy’s, “and Amy you’re welcome to join me.” Kamilah turns her head and continues walking. 

Amy looks in surprise as she whispers to Lily, “what should I do?” 

“Girl why are you still here? Go!” Lily shoos Amy out of the door. 

Amy trudges up to Kamilah as they wordlessly enter the elevator together. Amy can see a hint of a smile on Kamilah’s lips as they go up to the rooftop. As the doors open, Amy lets out a short gasp. A gorgeous pool lies in the middle of the rooftop, the water glimmering under the moonlight as the stars sparkle overhead. 

“Woah, and I thought Adrian’s rooftop restaurant was nice.” 

Kamilah merely shrugs her shoulders, “Adrian finds solace in the company of others. I find it in solitude. Swimming here alone, under the stars...it brings me peace.” 

Amy cocks her head slightly to look at the other vampire, “but you invited me up here.” 

“So I did.” Kamilah replies, Amy waits for something, instead Kamilah paces over to the bar, reaching behind it. She gives Amy a conspiratorial look, “drink?” 

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Kamilah begins mixing together a concoction of liquor before pouring it into 2 glasses. She hands one of the glasses to Amy before settling down on a lounge chair. Amy assesses the milky white liquid before taking a small sip, she squirms slightly as she coughs slightly, “it’s certainly strong!” 

“That’s what makes it good,” Kamilah watches as Amy takes a bigger sip, her features in more control as she enjoys the drink, “It’s Arak. Distilled from anise seed.” Kamilah takes a huge gulp of the drink as she looks out to the sky, while Amy takes a seat on the lounge chair near her. 

“Thank you Kamilah.” 

“For what?” 

Amy shrugs as she gazes off into the distance, her hand swirling the drink in the cup, “everything I guess. For helping Lily, Adrian,” she pauses, “me.” 

“Of course, I know Adrian would do the same if he were in my position.” 

Amy nods, “knowing him, he probably would.” 

Kamilah gives Amy a side glance, looking for something but she can’t quite put her finger on it. When she doesn’t find what she’s searching for, she places her drink down and begins unbuttoning her shirt before sliding it off her body, exposing her smooth toned upper body. 

Amy's eyes widen, “oh!” She awkwardly glances away, as Kamilah places her hands on her trousers, smoothly slipping them off. “You’re taking off your clothes. That’s a thing you’re doing.” Amy gulps uneasily, trying her damndest not to make her gawking conspicuous. 

“Well I’m not going to swim in my suit,” Kamilah bluntly answers as she enters the swimming pool. She begins swimming a few laps as Amy looks at the water droplets glimmering off of her body, only accentuating her curves more. She stops swimming before looking up at Amy expectedly, “coming?” 

Amy pauses momentarily before nodding, “yes,” she hesitantly glances over at Kamilah whose gaze is still burning on her, as she slips off her clothes, folding them neatly onto the chair before she dives into the pool. When she reaches the surface, she slicks back her wet hair, “it’s cold.” 

“Is it? I didn’t notice.” Amy turns on her back and floats towards Kamilah who’s already aimlessly floating, together they stare up at the sky, lost in the shimmering of the stars. A few moments later Kamilah breaks the silence, “it’s funny,” when she speaks her usual commanding hilt is gone and replaced with something softer, more resonating with the voice Kamilah used when she was helping Amy after discovering Nicole’s body. “How old are you Amy 23?” 

“24,” Amy replies.

Kamilah chuckles, “I remember that age. I thought I knew everything. I thought I’d felt all there was to feel. I imagine you feel the same way.” 

Amy gingerly answers, “I guess? I mean I feel like I’ve been through a lot.” Kamilah turns her head to face Amy, and when their eyes meet, the older vampire’s eyes look so deep they almost look bottomless.

“Have you ever been in love?” 

The question catches Amy off guard, as she shoots her eyebrows up. “Once.” Kamilah curiously cocks her head as she appraises the tenderness in Amy’s tone. Amy gazes back up to the sky, as if the stars are painted in her eyes, “Christopher. He- he was a childhood friend of mine. Everyone used to always make jokes that we were dating but it wasn’t until we were freshman in highschool when he asked me out.” Amy’s lips quirk up slightly, “I felt like the happiest girl in the world. We both even agreed to go to college in New York. He got into Columbia and I got into NYU.” 

“What happened?” 

“Our first year in college was the worst.” Amy’s eyes darken, a somber look in her eyes as she recollects, “we agreed to live together while we were in college but we ended up fighting all the time. During our Sophomore year, we agreed to break up. I moved out and ended up moving in with Lily.” Amy lets out an airy laugh, “but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, I was so heartbroken during my college years, I tried moving on but it didn’t feel right. Fast forward to the end of my Junior year and we randomly bumped each other. We got to talking and decided to get back together again. We agreed to take it slow, so I was still living with Lily.” 

“Well I’m guessing it didn’t work out.” 

“No.” Amy’s eyes glisten with tears as she blinks them away, her voice becomes hoarse as she continues, “a few months after college, Chris, he was- he was walking through the park, and I guess he was attacked by a wild animal but the police found his body torn to pieces.” 

Kamilah grimaces, and apologetically reaches out to Amy, and rubs her arm, “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Now that I think about it, it wasn’t a wild animal.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I keep getting flashbacks to what happened in Marcel’s castle. The bodies, the way they were shredded to pieces I-” Amy cuts herself off, as she swallows down her sobs. 

“You think it was a feral?” Kamilah knits her brows together, following suit as Amy pulls herself out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry herself off.

“I know it is. It’s why I became so triggered I guess, with everything that happened with Nicole. All the memories of his body just came flooding back and I panicked. I-” Amy closes her eyes, taking a slow steadying breath. 

“I’m sorry for asking, I did not realise this was a sore subject.” 

Amy shakes her head, “it’s not your fault, it’s just hard sometimes. For months I didn’t leave my house and it wasn’t until Lily practically forced me to start being more outgoing. She’s the one who told me to go for the job of Adrian’s assistant.” 

“I guess we have to thank her for that.” Kamilah speaks softly, her eyes boring into Amy’s and Amy can see the genuinity behind her eyes. 

“So why did you ask about my love life?” 

Kamilah presses her lips together in thought, “mere curiosity. It’s been a while since I’ve spent my time with someone with so many attachments. The company of vampires tends to make you jaded. It’s nice to be with someone so uncynical. So open to new possibilities.” 

Amy gives Kamilah a small smile, “well you’re welcome for giving you a fresh perspective.” Amy smiles hoping to alleviate the tension a little bit, but the somber look on Kamilah’s face causes her to knit her brows together in thought, huh, she thinks to herself. Maybe Kamilah isn’t as tough as she makes out to be. “Kamilah?” 

Kamilah hums, “yes?” 

“Doesn’t everyone have someone they’re attached to, I mean without Lily, I don’t know where I would be today.” 

Kamilah purses her lips in thought, “no, no they don’t.” 

“But you love Adrian.” 

“I’m quite fond of him, yes. Which perhaps is an illusion itself, because he reminds me of my brother.” 

“But you have loved.” 

“Many times.” Kamilah’s face drops, her voice quiet, “and lost. Just as many.” When Amy meets her eyes, she can see the sadness brimming in the surface of them, 2000 years worth of pain and loss just merely breaking the surface.

“2000 years is a long time.” 

“It defies imagining.” 

“You’re right. I can’t imagine even a small percent of what you’ve seen.” 

“And I’ve seen a lot. I’ve watched empires rise and fall. I’ve watched the world transform right in front of me and yet I-” Kamilah presses her lips together in a thin line, a pensive look on her face. Kamilah sharply inhales, “I’ve felt everything that there is to feel, I’ve loved, lost, grieved, but now, I feel like an empty vessel. Just detached from everything.” Kamilah looks away, as Amy watches as she transforms her expression back into her usual icy demeanour, as if the last few minutes did not exist. 

“I might not know a lot Kamilah,” Amy takes a step towards the older vampire, “but I know that you are so much more than you think you are.” 

“Please,” Kamilah scoffs, but behind the harshness, Amy can see she’s touched by her words. 

“I’m serious. You are incredible. I’m purely in awe of you every single moment.” 

“You don’t need to fuel my ego, I don’t need your pity.” 

“Pity isn’t what I feel at all.” 

“Oh? And what do you feel?” And in that moment, Amy can see the earnestness in Kamilah’s words. 

“Connection. Admiration,” Amy hesitates for a second, “infatuation.” 

Kamilah raises an eyebrow as Amy takes a step closer to her, closing the gap between the two. Wordlessly, Amy tilts her head up, and presses a soft kiss against Kamilah’s lips. When Kamilah doesn’t reciprocate the kiss, she steps back flushed, “I’m sorry.” 

Kamilah places her forefinger against Amy’s lips silencing her, “don’t be.” 

In her eyes shine conviction as her finger trails down Amy’s body before her hand cups her hip, Kamilah leans down, capturing Amy in a long kiss, the kiss full of ecstasy, driving Amy into a euphoric state. Kamilah kisses Amy harder, her tongue snakes into her mouth, eliciting a small moan from the human. Kamilah groans slightly, her hold on Amy’s waist tightening as she leads her to the lounge chair before pushing Amy flat out on it, covering her body with hers. Kamilah dominates the kiss, her kiss full of passion, as if she’s yearning for the desire it brings her. Her eyes flash red as her knee pressing against Amy’s core, evoking a small moan from the girl. Kamilah smiles devilishly, as Amy’s hips buck against her knee, slowly rubbing trying to gain any friction that will bring her pleasure. Kamilah brings her hand under Amy’s chin and kisses her breathless. Eventually the kiss breaks for the much needed air, and the atmosphere is quiet, but charged with electricity. Kamilah rests her forehead against Amy’s as the human pants heavily, and as their eyes meet, everything feels different. 

“We should get going, the tribunal is soon.” Amy swallows heavily and nods, the wind still knocked out of her after the kiss. Kamilah smiles as she climbs off her, and offers her hand for Amy to stand. “Come on.” The women silently make their way to the elevator, but Amy feels different, she feels something that she hasn’t felt since Chris and as she gazes at Kamilah, she can see she feels the same. 

[monabela]

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

--

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

--

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

[secretshinigami]

Author: @translightyagami For: @kratqa Pairings/Characters: L, Light Yagami, Kiyomi Takada, Sayu Yagami, Kyosuke Higuchi Rating/Warnings: T for, you know. Murder happening off screen but its still gross. Prompt: Roleswap AU between L and Light. Author’s notes: I hope you like junior sleuths Light and Kiyomi, L and Ryuk having a mutual candy-and-TV = Death Note agreement, and letter-writing, because when I write a fic…you know there’s gonna b letters. i also appreciate your patience with any typos; I am a human with sticky fingers.

To-Oh during spring made Light’s skin crawl: love notes proliferated the campus from students not quite grown out of youthful notions; heat creeping beneath his sweaters, tugging at them as if to say short sleeves begged entrance; and the anniversary of his father’s heart attack—one year past—hung over all the landmarks no matter their relation to cardiac health. In that way, he noticed the newspaper story of the murderer who died of a heart attack blaring on a nearby kiosk. Without any real eye of the bizarre, Light didn’t notice things unless their relevance was near to his own life or those around him. Dark ink stared back at him, a jack-knifed business man laid out next to a graphic discussing murder statistics in the Kanto region. It was of no surprise or consequence to Light, whose policeman father made him all too aware of how life flitted from a people every day.

Slipping payment to the newsstand worker and stalking off to his next class, Light read through the story: a well-liked business man succumbing to a heart attack mid-quarter projections meeting and was found—after a house search was requested by the detective L—to have four intact human skeletons buried in his backyard. The wife, a woman with a name that flew in one ear and out the other, claimed no knowledge of her husband’s cruel hobby of picking up young men and then poisoning them with club drugs concocted in their garage; however, the great detective was said to still hold her in suspicion and no innocence was assumed.

A woman bumped into Light, who flicked his newspaper down and apologized for not paying attention. His thoughts were scrambled between happiness for a murderer slain and a stomachache—born not of bad food but an innate strangeness to what he’d just read. The newspaper went into his bag, the story out of his mind, and Light continued classes at To-Oh without much more than passing conversation devoted to “that criminal who died of a heart attack, can you believe it?”

Which, of course, wasn’t his last thought on the case. He chewed the flavor out of the incident, but in quiet. Light never liked to burden people with more than they could take and while his own voice was his favorite song, he knew people had limits. Off-hand, he mentioned the report to his father at dinner, whose murmured response left Light’s trap shut tight to further inquisitions.

“How troubling,” his father said. “We must treasure every day, and live our lives as honestly as possible.”

Three weeks later, in a smaller column, another criminal’s heart attack was reported; this time, Light didn’t pay for the newspaper as Kiyomi put her copy down in front of him. Her near-despot rule over the school’s journalism outfit drove her to often drop stories in front of him, asking for his interest and time to discuss various dictates of law enforcement. For this story, however, she asked not for his expertise, but instead to prod in tandem with her at the curiosity of it all.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” She traced a finger over the meager profile shot of the victim, who was discovered post-death to have been collecting severed human fingers in his fridge door. “That one guy dies, turns out to be awful, and then another one?”

“Makes a person want to believe in patterns.” Light looked at her through his lashes, fork to his lips as he took another bite of their shared tart. Whenever they discussed important issues, Kiyomi liked to do it at cafes; Light suspected it was out of journalistic habit, since she took all her interviews to the same place they sat now. “Or even luck, I guess.”

“Luck?”

“Well,” he said, “luck for anyone who would have been those guys’ victims. Luck for the rest of us. Not so much for them.”

Kiyomi took a larger piece of tart, shining with a glazed cherry, and chewed it in vigorous gnashes. “Do you believe in patterns?” Her question was idle, almost absent between chews.

Light shook his head, fork placed down on a napkin and his hand now free to fish his phone from his pocket. “I don’t think there’s anything to this random stuff besides a few jerks getting their comeuppance,” he said. “Nothing but justice, you know. I have to go; my sister texted me.”

Sayu sent him a string of texts, to be honest, about how his mom needed him to come home and help with dinner. Of course, when Light arrived he saw the situation for what it was: his sister needed to watch a TV drama premiere; his mother needed onions chopped; and both of them were unwilling to compromise. Fortunately, the best brother and good son arrived home in time to accommodate them by chopping onions and fending suggestions that he was on a date with Kiyomi.

He fell into his computer chair, swung himself around in lazy circles until his brain became dizzy—one word thoughts all that remained. Onions. Kiyomi. Death. Patterns. Luck. Sticking his foot out, Light halted his movement and froze. In two scoots, he was at his keyboard, and he typed in his query to the Internet as quick as he thought it: Recent Murder Investigations Detective L. After a second, he added quotations around the phrase Detective L and pressed enter. Floods of pixel results washed over him as Light took in link after link to articles covering the great detective who solved any case put on his desk but never revealed himself to the public.

Three articles spoke of specific cases L solved: the Monkey Thief Theory (a jeweled monkey stolen from a well-loved heiress, ultimately found to have been absconded by her own hand); the Pit Viper Peril (a man who used viper venom to poison his business associates); and the Beautiful Woman Break-ins (a woman broke into several of the world’s richest mansions but stole only their fresh fruit. The woman was caught, but no details on her arrest were ever given to the public.) Two articles called L the single most important person in criminal justice history. One article mentioned, albeit as an end note, that L had worked on both cases whose solving had more to do with sudden heart attacks claiming the perpetrators than his own prowess.

A headache formed at the horizon of Light’s skull after reading too close to the screen, so he tried to print the articles. Only one printed all the way—on the second, he ran out of paper and went to Sayu’s room to bug her for using all the printer paper, which she insisted she needed for art.

“You print off pictures of that actor guy in full color and paste them onto your binders,” Light complained. “I need that paper for important stuff. You can’t be so wasteful.”

“It’s the art of collage,” she intoned. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have passions like I do, otherwise you’d go out with Kiyomi.”

Light took a third of her printer paper as revenge for the comment and brought in the articles to show Kiyomi. Her eyes were luminous when he arrived at the café table, arms similarly weighted with information which they swapped. She gave him a newspaper with intriguing, if distressing, updates: another man killed by cardiac arrest, revealed to be a secret killer.

“Do you know who was pursuing this one’s death?” He paused, pushing the paper away to give the waitress his full attention and order: black coffee and banana muffin, if they still have some. Kiyomi ordered ahead of him, and her meal sits in front of her pock-holed by her absent bites. In answer, she shakes her head and takes another minuscule clump of her rolled omelet.

“Nobody special was named, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “These articles are pretty good, but it’s hard to know whether L has been involved in more without knowing how many heart attack deaths like this have happened.” She gestured with her chopsticks as she continued, pointing at the highlighted National Police Association in the paper’s text. “From what I can gather, the Japanese police are the ones that found the posthumous evidence in the man’s apartment, same as with the other ones.”

“What’s the rub is how would they know?” Light tapped his chin, wristwatch catching café lamp glow and projecting a jiggling circle down on the laminate table. “A heart attack happens, you can just rule that as someone’s poor health, or maybe just a sad stroke of fate. But someone must be alerting police to these people’s suspicious nature for them to be investigating in depth.” He coughed, his next sentence making his throat close in embarrassment, but continued. “Listen. I support the police, you know that, right?”

“Sure,” Kiyomi mumbled around more egg. “You support your dad, at least.”

“Yeah. Well. I know the guys he works with, and while they’re not stupid, there’s no way they got this intuitive so quick.” His muffin slipped in front of him and Light nodded his thanks to the waitress, waiting until she left to pull over one printed article. “Here’s what I know: at least one of these cases was under L’s purview. Who’s to say the other ones aren’t also?”

Discarding the article, Light reached for the condiment caddy and snatched up two creamer cups, while Kiyomi set her chopsticks down in contemplation. Her eyes—dark blue to the point of midnight—scanned both the newspaper and articles. With her mouth pressed together, red lips shining with waxen smoothness, Light could see why she held sway over so much of the school’s masculine consciousness: a beautiful woman who thought before anything. His own attention settled further from attraction and more into an approach toward admiration; she would’ve made a good rival, were he still seventeen and looking for the challenge.

“How would we find out what cases L has worked on?” Kiyomi’s gaze darted from the papers to Light’s coffee, swirling ever more auburn with the creamer added. “Why didn’t you just get a latte, if you’re going to make it so sweet with cream?”

“I like to make things myself.” Light waved his hand to dispel her remark. “I don’t know how to find all the cases lining up to this particular situation, which also have L’s involvement, but I think I can get us to a starting place.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. But I’ll need my computer.” Light took a sip of his coffee and couldn’t resist the pleased smile it brought to his lips: the satisfaction of something useful and pleasurable mixed into one cup. “And about an hour of time, so I’ll probably skip contemporary law today. You don’t have to come, but you can if you like.”

“I should stay, go to class to get notes so you don’t fall behind.” Kiyomi ran her finger around her own teacup, liquid no longer steaming but cool and green with tea leaves solidified at the bottom. “Can I ask you something?” Her voice wavered and Light couldn’t catch its true colors—only flashes of uncertain purple, vulnerable red. “Is it silly to be excited about this? Trying to figure out a mystery together?”

Swallowing, Light pretended not to hear the word together as he knew she meant it: you and me, an item, a duo. “No,” he said. “It’s exciting to solve mysteries, in any case. Every time I’ve worked on stuff like this with my dad, I feel changed, uplifted. Like,” he paused, rubbing his fingers together, “someone just turned on the lights in a pitch-dark room, and now I get to see all the secrets around me.”

“I understand,” Kiyomi said, and in that moment, Light looked at her midnight eyes and saw that she did.

…

It was easier than expected to hack into his dad’s account on the NPA intraweb, although Light knew he used the same password for everything: ssl226. He wanted, in a strange way, for his dad’s heart to be harder to crack—to know less about the key and earn it fitting in the lock—but couldn’t dig into why he felt such a way. Not with Kiyomi sending him text after text from class, each one a more urgent call for updates on his progress. His attention snapped from phone, to computer, to an odd hole in his stomach after their earlier meeting.

He never enjoyed when people tried to get close to him, as though they wanted a piece of Light the same way a child wants a piece of adulthood—desperate without knowledge of what lay beneath. While a social creature, thriving on connection, he cringed from women’s fumbled confessions of attraction and roamed away from their asking mouths toward men, who wanted silent partners to their escapades and were willing to return the favor. In many ways, those interactions left Light cold as well: tacky plastic bandages peeling off at the slightest friction.

The truth was it was easier to want what was right in front of him and not consider the far off. So, Light’s fingers flew across his keyboard with the neon flash from his cell phone ignored. He flipped through files labeled in long numerical defaults—a mark of his father’s tech-illiteracy—with time ticking away. When he finally alighted on the correct documents, his phone inbox was full. Without reading any of the messages, he deleted them all and texted Kiyomi to meet him later at the library.

Armed with a large stack of paper, he weighed down his backpack and left, waving off his mother’s question about why he was skipping class. On the television, a reporter spoke about rising stock in the Yotsuba Corporation’s new make-up company. She laughed after her speech and admitted to wearing their lipstick during the segment. Both Sayu and Light’s mother laughed along too. Light ran out the door, his bag smacking on his side.

The library was quiet except for a few students banging on keyboards, their faces shining with essay-deadline sweat. Light found Kiyomi lounged on a two-seat bench, her legs propped onto the low table and a style guide opened over her face. She sat up when he dropped in beside her, pushing the guide off and starting into an interrogation on why he didn’t answer her texts. Holding up a hand, Light pulled out his papers and set them on the table, smacking a finger on them.

“I know who he’s attacking next,” he said.

“What?” Kiyomi pushed his hand aside and flicked through his findings. “Okay, so these are the last, what? Twenty or so cases the NPA worked on with L?”

“Yes, about twenty,” Light agreed. “But we don’t usually call on him, unless it’s a difficult case. I mean, it’s pretty rare he takes any case at all unless it’s big news. But look at the cases he’s worked on since 2002.”

“Heart attacks.” Stopping at the top page, Kiyomi drew her finger along the chart labels—suspect name, suspect location, case title, behavior—and ended on the final column of conclusion. “Not all of them, though. Only a few scattered ones.”

“I know!” Light couldn’t stop a little eagerness leaking in; his sleuthing was about to pay off. He took out another stack of paper—thinner than the last—and handed those to Kiyomi. “I looked at those cases. All of them had victim counts lower than ten. Some of them were even cases the NPA didn’t put much resources behind. But,” he raised his finger in emphasis, “these ones had interesting details. Like the guy who had skeletons in his backyard? He was some kind of cannibal who left organs behind. The finger guy was notorious, even though he was pretty low activity.”

“You sound like you have a theory.”

“I might. Check out the most recent listing.”

Kiyomi flipped back to the case chart and narrowed her eyes. “Do we know this guy? Kyosuke Higuchi?”

Light sighed and tapped his finger to his knee. “He’s some kind of executive, at the Yotsuba Corporation. I tracked the case listed to one about a bunch of their new make-up brand’s younger interns going missing. The count is five right now, but one of them was the niece of a big government person so the NPA got told to ask L about it.” He smiled at Kiyomi. “Do you want to hear my theory?”

She tapped the paper stack and set it on the table, turning her full attention to him. “Someone is picking off the small fries,” she said, “with heart attacks, and the link between cases is L.”

A frustrated puff of breath exited Light. “Well. Yeah. I guess,” he said. “But it’s pretty smart, right? Getting rid of the guys who you can find, but can’t super prove anything about, before they get to higher numbers.”

“He’s still killing people,” Kiyomi said. “I mean, isn’t that just like what they’re doing? These guys are victims too, in a sense, and this L guy is offing them before they get a trial. What if he’s wrong?”

Light folded his arms across his chest. “But he hasn’t been wrong,” he said. “Not yet.” Shuffling in his seat, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and took a deep inhale. “I want to send him a message.”

“What? A message?” Kiyomi laughed, her long earrings shaking with her clipped hair. “What’re you going to say? We’re on to you, buddy. Better watch out.” She shook her head, laughter making way for a more serious expression. “It’s not a good idea,” she said. “We don’t know how he’s giving people heart attacks, other than by magic or something. It’s dangerous.”

Air lifted and deflating from Light’s chest as he mulled her response around inside. It burned a trail through his soft meats, where enthusiasm continued to grow through whatever scorch she inflicted with sense and caution. His body was a garden growing thicker at just the idea of communicating with the person who had such a power, who made such a decision as to end someone’s life when they ended someone else’s.

Headless of his contemplation, Kiyomi stood and took the papers. “It’s interesting, I’ll give you that,” she said. “But we shouldn’t contact L directly. It will alert him to our own knowledge; we’d give more ground than gain. Let me look over what you have, and later this week, we’ll pool our thoughts and start to put together a better case.”

He handed over his print outs, not too precious about them since he had the real digital versions at home. As she left, Light’s eyes danced away from Kiyomi’s prim stride and toward the tall bookcases. His mind brought to him a scenario where he, and everyone else in the library, was crushed by toppled bookcases and the ceiling caving in. A tragedy without a pinpoint reason behind it—only a god who wanted to see something destroyed. Or maybe it was some kid who leaned too hard. Life was so random in how it could be taken or given, and that thought propelled him further into whatever L’s powers were.

Somehow, there was a man out there able to control death and Light, despite Kiyomi’s warning, wanted to know the shape of his tools.

…

L counted three red candies from his pack and collected them into his palm. They rattled against each other like gemstones, gleaming under computer-haze lights until long black claws pinched one away.

“Red ones are best,” Ryuk said. “Except for cherry flavor.”

“Cherry flavor is fine if you get the right brand.” L turned back to his laptop, nabbing a pink hard candy for himself and sucking its watermelon flavor into a slow, sugar liquid. It subsumed his entire mouth, coated his tongue and teeth. His hand stayed outstretched as Ryuk one-by-one crunched the red candies into his toothsome mouth. Clattering shards collected at his lip corners only to be wiped away by his skeletal hand.

At the moment, both occupied the same opulent hotel room despite their aesthetic pairing more implied them existing in different realities. L had laid out over his hotel desk his laptop, a bowl of packaged sweets, and a thin notebook—opened to a page half-filled by his scrawl. Methodical in his fingers, he looked over the most recent reports sent in from Japan, his interest waning here and there into an intense focus on whatever candy he opened next. Ryuk, on the other hand, was taken up by the television, which L left on for him in most hotel rooms, and all the small colored blotches fizzled together on the screen. He laughed as one blotch fell down a flight of stairs.

Their relationship often balanced on this mutual agreement for entertainment—it flowed between them as Ryuk received TV, movies, and candy from L and L, of course, got the Death Note. While this arrangement meant they were in constant contact, Ryuk did fly between the human world and Shinigami realm on his own whims; he told L human poker wasn’t as good as the death gods played it, which L couldn’t argue being he wasn’t too fond of poker either way. At one point, L asked why he—of all people on Earth and beyond—received such an unholy tool of death and Ryuk responded, “Oh, yeah. The thing sort of fell out of my pocket. I need one of those chain wallets, keep that on me.” As if to prove his point, the next time Ryuk showed up to see how L and the Death Note were progressing, he had his personal Note hooked to a thick metal chain.

“Made it myself.” His voice smacked of undue pride, although L complimented the chain without trace of sarcasm. “Not as good as the human ones, but pretty cool.”

L didn’t care if the Shinigami made a thousand ugly chain wallets, or watched TV all day. What he cared about was the ease the Death Note brought to his work. So often fissures of stress cracked along his psyche when dug into cases which were clean cut—to him, at least—but couldn’t get traction enough with local enforcement to make arrests: to bring justice to people who screamed their guilt to L’s careful crow eyes. But with the Death Note, all he had to do was write a name, wait and assign a search team to the killer’s home posthumously.

Spread in front of him, he tapped a pen end to the blank Note page. All that was left in the Higuchi case was to find a time to kill him while he was alone; for that purpose, L wormed around several important forms and decision-makers to install camera into the vile businessman’s home and office. Blue connective fuzz overlaid the images displayed on his laptop and made Higuchi, idling behind his large desk, appear alien. To some degree, L felt the man was alien to him—in thought, in action (or lack of it), in intention—and had no interest in learning a scrap about Higuchi. He cared more about the space beneath the man’s home, which would be unlocked and unloaded of its human prisoners once Wedy got her go-ahead; keeping a successful thief on his payroll benefited L tremendously.

“He’s been alone for two hours,” L said, to himself and also Ryuk, if the Shinigami wanted to hear. “If I kill him now, how long before someone finds the body?”

“Weekend,” Ryuk piped back. L looked over his shoulder to see his long ebony chicken legs crossed on the bed while yellow eyes stared at the television without blinking. “He might just rot there over the next two days.”

“Oh, I think so—,” L stopped mid-speech at Higuchi’s secretary and her brown ponytail bobbing into frame. She stood at near two inches taller than the man, who sneered as she spoke. At the very least, L knew she was not in danger of kidnapping. He sat straighter and leaned to hear their conversation over the microphones, the secretary’s voice soft and faint from many miles away.

“A young man left this for you.” She held out an envelope; even at his angle, L saw no address or marker beyond Higuchi’s name. “He said he needs you to give it to someone.”

“What?” Higuchi’s nasal intonation pinched his words. “I’m not some kind of messenger. Tell him to just send it by post, if he needs someone to see it so bad.”

“He sounded urgent that you give it,” the secretary said, and dropped the envelope down. “I’ll tell you something, he was very handsome. Seemed like a smart young man. This is probably his resume, you know.”

“Ah.” Snake oil slithered through Higuchi’s response as he took hold of the envelope. “Well, who am I to keep down a young upstart? Anything else he said?”

The secretary taped her finger to her lip and hummed. “Just that it was important someone get this message,” she said. “Someone powerful, who knew what you’d done. I don’t know what he meant by that.”

L’s eyes lit up; Higuchi became pale. “Ah yes,” the businessman simpered. “I’m not sure I know either. Well, why don’t you go home? I’ll see you on Monday.”

The moment the secretary left, Higuchi threw the envelope into the trash and L whipped around to Ryuk.

“Can you fly somewhere for me?” he asked. “And pick something up?”

“Dunno,” Ryuk said. “Depends what I get in return.”

After an hour and a promise for several all large candy purchases, L held a faintly sticky gold envelope in his hands. His hands, covered by white fabric gloves, turned the item over and over in curious rotation. Thumbing the corners, he admired how thick the stock seemed, how elegant the adhesion of the close seemed to lay, and upon opening it, he was sorry to mar the lines. Out fell a quarter-folded page with lines as crisp as the outer shell. L unfolded the page, smoothed it with both hands with delicacy he hadn’t practiced on something non-confectionery in years. Across the fine surface was hard-black typed words, struck out in small font but for some reason read to him like slow cream—a voice L never heard before but caught him, easily, by his mind’s tongue.

Dear L, the letter started. I know what you’ve been doing, but I don’t know how. I’d like to know. I’d like to know you and what tools you’ve picked up that let you wrack such havoc inside cruel men’s bodies.

Are you like them? A cruel man? I can’t say; but I’d like to be able to reject the sentiment.

Each word dropped into L’s consciousness as water on a garden and flourished greenery within him until his interest became a full forest. Someone caught on to him; their fingers brushed his toes but couldn’t quite hold the tiger. Still, the letter’s writer was unknown and on this front, L couldn’t abide. He took to his laptop and rolled back footage upon footage until video of a man at Higuchi’s secretary’s desk showed. At all times, the man’s face was out of view and his voice so low, L couldn’t make out his exact words. Had the letter writer known he’d been watched? A subtle tingle wormed through L’s chest: he knew about the cameras, or suspected them; he knew Higuchi was next; and he knew L was listening, in some capacity.

But how much did this man—who still carried handsomeness in his stature, turned head or no, and had a whisper coated by sugared familiarity—actually know? L frowned and turned back to the letter, scanning it again. He then turned to Ryuk.

“If someone wanted to send a message with the Note,” he said, “how might they do so?”

Ryuk laughed, throaty and amused. “Few ways,” he demurred. “You’re a smart guy. You figure it out.”

L raised an eyebrow, but not an argument. After all, he was the world’s greatest detective; a smart guy who could figure it out. He set to work and by nightfall had a plan. As he finished, he imbued his last pen stroke with some warped hope—that the letter writer saw what his message truly was: not cruelty but a hand beckoning him closer. An invitation.

“A challenge,” L said, to himself, to Ryuk, to the young man whose face he didn’t know. “And an answer.”

…

“Is that the newspaper?” Light slipped in next to Kiyomi, who held ink-covered pages in front of her face, elegant nails curled against headlines like red slashed wounds. Their first period literature class—a dreaded requirement on their degrees which neither enjoyed—found him harried from waking up late. He was unpracticed in disordered sleep and didn’t know how to control panic when it seeped from his pores and into his routine; ever since he gave the letter off to that Higuchi, Light was aware to his core something might happen—something deadly, even.

Kiyomi tilted the front page down enough to show her disappointed gaze trained on Light’s perfect smile—beguiling by practice, not nature. “You can buy your own,” she said. “After all, you don’t want anything from me, much less information.”

“Don’t be like that,” he countered. “You know, I didn’t make any moves.”

“Don’t lie,” Kiyomi said. “Look,” she flattened the newspaper to the desk, and after glancing around, pointed to a large headline, “your little love note found its recipient.”

Light leaned over the paper and scanned the article. Phrases floated forward—a sex dungeon with the women freed by an unknown accomplice—and others were faded but intriguing—Higuchi succumbing to cardiac arrest after consuming an energy drink, a large latte and a bottle of caffeine pills. His eyes froze on one paragraph, detailing a letter found in Higuchi’s handwriting and tucked inside his pocket.

“Experts say the letter was written within an hour of the man’s death,” the article read. “It’s contents are, however, not addressed to anyone known to the victim but instead a mysterious figure called ‘letter writer.’ Beneath we have listed some of the letter, which was confiscated by police and edited for clarity.”

Kiyomi sighed. “You’re in real danger now,” she said softly. “We’re both in danger.”

“He responded,” Light said, breathless. “He wrote back to me.”

Dear letter writer,

I don’t want to alarm you or make it seem as though I am on a crusade. Far from it. This is just my job, and I am good at my job. I get rid of people doing terrible things, but time and resources don’t always play on my side. This is my way of prioritizing.

I’m not a cruel man; and I hope you never think of me as such. But understand I can’t tell you what my methods are. After all, where’s the interest in that for me? But I can give you something small, something to hold onto: without your face, I can’t harm you.

Speak to you soon,

X

Light’s heart thudded in his throat. “Do you still have that chart on you?” He asked Kiyomi, who brought out the papers with eyes warmed by the prospect of research.

“Of course.” She laid them out and shrugged in closer to Light. “What are we looking for? What do we do next?”

Light couldn’t answer. Around and around in his head echoed Speak to you soon in a voice he didn’t know. Yes, they’d speak again soon enough, but he just needed to find out what they’d talk about. Right now, the room was dark; it was all a matter of turning on the light and seeing the secrets in the room.