Shout out to @gayblackhat for their awesome Villainous fanfic, Irresistible! Absolutely gorgeous writing style and the ship ain’t half bad either! Keep up the great work, my friend. The feels are hitting hard right now.
Gifs of Kakashi, Deidara, Shikamaru, Sasuke and Tobirama being jealous ;))
Lol, he’s not having anybody get too close his S/O; and it they do, he’s not even gonna be modest breaking it up between them.
WILL CALL YOU/OTHER PERSON OUT. NO REGRETS. STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HIS S/O BECAUSE HE'S SOMETIMES A MONSTER.
Oh, This boy is just gonna try and act like nothing is happening and that he doesn’t care- too smart to actually think that anything will truly happen, but still, slightly annoyed and it can be seen after the whole ordeal and it's just him and his S/O.
Feels more betrayed than anything, but there’s anger in there also. Doesn’t know how to react because he honestly expects better of his S/O, but also understands that it’s not completely their fault? He’s very confused and bothered tbh.
He’s pissed. Expect him to be passive aggressive towards you for at least a week, if not two. That damn sass of his is going to be evident for a while too. Sorry.
“Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character asking for another”, @thegreatleapingocelots wow this is late, im sorry
It’s late, and Klavier knows it’s late. It sits heavy in his gut, that itch to leave and sleep. It scampers up and down his spine, the need to eat and sleep and relax. But there is no reason to, sometimes. Sometimes, you must press forward, you must move so that you are not idle.
So that you do not rust and become immovable, so that you do not become useless.
He’s not doing music anymore, not really. He put out a solo record before Corte was murdered, but his fingers refuse to play anything but idle chords while he thinks, slumped either in his office chair or on his couch. He feels an itch to keep his hands busy, to keep his mind roaming. He’s taken on many cases, to the point where the Chief Prosecutor himself starts giving them to different prosecutors just so he has to settle down and breathe.
Though he should be grateful, it makes him antsy. He doesn’t like when he isn’t busy. If he has nothing to bring home and work on until three in the morning, then he must wait around and numb his mind in lesser, tedious ways that can only keep him engaged for so long. It doesn’t distract him enough so that he won’t pick up the phone and dial Apollo, who is an ocean away.
He’s gotten so close to calling him, so many times. He will flip the phone over in his hands, pull up the number. He will open Siri and his voice will catch on the words, Call Apollo Justice before tapping the home button. He will sometime open and close the video chat feature on his phone. He never calls him.
He is busy, and he is tired, and he is Apollo, and Klavier will not take him away from his duty or his newfound family.
Except that tonight it’s October, and tonight it’s that anniversary and he wishes it wasn’t. His thumb hovers over the call button. He needs to hear Apollo tell him he’s fine. He needs to hear his voice, his casual way of speaking. He needs to hear the way he mimics his German, and his laugh. Needs to hear the smile in his voice.
He…desperately needs Apollo, but he’s not sure how to tell him when he’s the least important part of his life right now. He tells himself this; Apollo has never, not once, told him anything but the opposite. “I love you,” he usually says. “You are the most important part of my life, and I need you here. I wish you were here.” But an ocean is a huge gap between them, and Klavier was never sure of himself, even before Apollo. He has always been shaky, unbalanced. A newborn faun walking on ice, stumbling his way through life with an easy smile that is so fake he should have taken up theater for all acting its done for him.
So Klavier sets the phone aside and holds his head in his hands, still in his office at two in the morning, and whispers, “Apollo.” He says it like he is seven, and in Germany, and he’s wishing on a star because his mother told him that those wishes are the ones that come true.
And surprisingly, the phone rings.
It’s a shock and he flinches at the noise it makes in the silence, but the screen has a picture of Apollo on it, and the buzz is filling the room, along with the ringtone he’d chosen for him. The picture is Apollo in Klavier’s apartment, sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him. His hair is soft, free of the product he puts in it, and it’s covering his face, which is spaced out with his whiskey brown eyes drooping. It’s adorable, and when Klavier had snapped the picture, Apollo had grumbled and complained through bites of his Foot Loops, and leaned over to press tiny kisses against Klavier’s jaw, and the corner of his mouth.
Klavier chokes up.
Better days. Easier.
He clears his throat, picks up the phone, and fakes a smile Apollo can’t see. “Hello, schatzi…Ja, it’s a bit late, but don’t worry, I’ll be in bed as soon as I can be…Was? Mausi, don’t you know who you’re talking to? I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.”