#but get me my magnifying glass i have a woman to inspect

[slutforsidewalks]

I know those old vampire dudes are the internets favorite women rn but the posts that are compelling me the most to actually watch the show are the ones about Claudia like what did they DO to her I just know shes gonna make me go crazy

[helplesslypurple77]

AU Week: Detective AU(Dazai/Reader)

Summary:

“Remember Dazai.” You hiss in his ear, as the servant by the door rings the knocker for you. “As of now, I'm your wife.” “I know darling.” He says, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. Your stomach whirls to life, butterflies, leaping and bounding inside you. You don't know if you’ll survive the night, truly

Warnings: Smut~

Notes: I grew up with Nancy Drew, can you blame me? Also at some point the word count got away from me and i had to gloss over the actual mystery bits to get to the smut

then i also simplify the smut a little at the end but it got wayyyyyy to long

...

Even after so many years, the sight of dead bodies still made your stomach curl. You supposed it would never change, that disgusting stench of death, the quiet reverence that permeated the air as you stood before the body, the mangled body of a young woman, life cut much too short. And even though you loved your job, this was most definitely your least favorite part.

The grimy streets of London were as they usually were, dark and unpleasant. The streetlights scattered every ten feet did their best to cut through the blanket of fog that fell at dusk, hiding the surroundings from even the keenest eye. The rain fell in a mist, having been caught in the tail end of its fall. It always rained in London. You didn't mind, you actually liked the dreary atmosphere, as long as you weren't actually in the rain. You preferred to look upon it from inside a warm house. 

“How tragic.” Dazai, your investigation partner says, reaching for another chip. He's holding a large bag of them, and as you eye them distastefully he crumples up the empty bag, tossing it into the garbage can. You take a deep, deep breath, letting it out through your nose in one big gust of air. Every day you come one step closer to simply ending it all. 

Dazai Osamu is brilliant, that's obvious. Able to solve impossible cases with the barest bits of evidence, to track down serial killers and trick them into confessing. He’s so brilliant, you don't know why he even needs you to be his investigative partner, but he keeps you around, for some reason. You’ve never asked. Perhaps to field the questions he doesn't care to deal with. Or to foil his dumb antics. Or for comic relief. 

“Let us investigate, my partner.” Dazai says, grandly swiping a magnifying glass out of his pocket. You take a deep, deep breath. 

“Dazai, you shouldn't bring snacks to a crime scene.” You say, mostly for the benefit of the confused police officer standing in the back of the room. 

“But that's so boring.” Dazai says loudly, attracting a few angry stares from the police officers scattered across the sight. You send them all small apologetic glances. It's smart to remain on good terms with these officers, because as soon as your small detective Agency loses the trust of the police, you lose cases, and when you lose cases, you can't pay rent. 

The body is more gruesome up close, mangled in a totally unnecessary way. Her face is untouched, preserved perfectly in death, but her body is a mess. Her stomach is completely opened up, organs spilling onto the wet sidewalk, blood mixing with the pools of rainwater that run down the street, small red rivers, dashing away downtown. Why does it always rain, you’ll never know. But it always rains in London, that you could count on. 

She’s dressed well, in a fine evening gown and sparkling jewels. Her handbag is lying a few feet away, strangely untouched. Dazai leans down, carefully inspecting her rain soaked face. 

“Her jewelry is still on her.” You notice, probably stating the obvious. “You’d think the perp would have stolen it. Those are fine jewels.” 

Dazai rolls his eyes in your direction. “Obviously, this was a crime of passion.” Dazai says, poking the dead woman's cheek curiously. He says the words like you should already know, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Dazai can grate on the nerves, his assumption that everyone is as smart as him is egregiously wrong. You try not to let his tone affect you in any way. 

“Is she wearing makeup?” Dazai directs this at you, and you lean down, carefully inspecting her face. This is one area that Dazai lacks, women's makeup and fashion. 

“Yes, she’s obviously dressed for a social engagement. A date or a fancy dinner.” You say, stomach turning as you try your best to avoid the more disturbing area’s, like the stomach. You dislike this part immensely, looking at the dead bodies of people who were just like you once. It makes your thoughts turn dark, scary, and entirely unnecessary. You sigh. 

“Wasn't there a ball this evening? A sponsored event I think.” You say, directing this at the police officers standing behind you. It's raining, and yet they stand there, scarily still. Their uniforms were wet with rain. 

“A charity ball, sponsored by the Stonewall Corp, Ma’am.” The officer on the right, a handsome young man with a sad-looking face says. You shoot him a thankful smile, and watch as his cheeks flush a little. He’s cute, thin and pale with small eye bags under his gray blue eyes. If you weren't on a murder investigation and bogged down with unrequited feelings of love for your dumb(at least when it came to emotions) partner, you would flirt a little, maybe find the time to sneak off for some ‘fun time’ but alas that's highly inappropriate. Dazai coughs from next to you, still crouching near the body. 

“Flirting at a murder scene is in bad taste.” He says, as if he was not just eating an entire bag of chips, in front of a dead body. You take a deep, deep breath, inhaling the smell of the wet london streets, and holding onto your patients with all your might. Dazai is a brilliant man, intelligent and kind but he was also tactless, rude, and a terrible flirt. And maybe it was because of your ill fated crush on him, but every time he criticizes you, every time you felt unwanted and useless, a deep well of sadness opened up in your heart, sucking at your soul and wringing out every ounce of self worth you possessed. It was tragic and pathetic and your patience was running thin. You had been feeling especially emotional and broken lately, and Dazai’s carefree attitude was grating at your nerves. 

“Tell me oh so amazing detective, have you finished.” You say, tapping your foot insistently against the wet pavement. “Because I'm cold and wet and I want to go home.” You sound bratty and childish, but you can't bring yourself to care, not right now.

“Geez, cool your jets partner.” Dazai says, giving the body one last ounce over. “Fine, we can go. Hey you there.” He directs this part at the police officer standing behind him, an older gentleman who looks very, very tired. 

“Send us an investigation into this woman.” Dazai continues. You shoot both police officers apologetic winces as Dazai pulls his brown coat closer around him, meandering away from the crime scene. You move to follow him.

“Wait Miss, let me walk you home.” It's the police officer from before, the handsome one with the gray eyes. He pulls out an umbrella, holding it over your head. You shoot him a grateful smile. It feels nice to be admired for ounce. He blushes, scratching the back of his head to hide it. 

“It's dangerous this late at night.” He says, voice trailing off towards the end. 

“No need.” Dazai jumps in, suddenly reappearing in between you and the cute officer rather rudely. The officer jumps back skittishly, giving a defeated little sigh as he tries to protest. 

“At least take my umbrella Miss, it looks like it's going to rain.” He says, pressing the umbrella into your grateful hands. And with one last tip of his cap, he's gone. 

“It always rains, it's london,” Dazai says, once again heading along the back street. You follow him, your heels clicking on the soaked pavement. The clicks echo about the empty street, accompanied by Dazai’s loud humming and truly unnecessary comments. You roll your eyes in Dazai’s direction. 

“Would it kill you to be a little nicer? The police do their best, you know that.” You say, opening the umbrella with a click. The rain begins to come down in earnest, and Dazai ducks under the umbrella as well, crowding into you. 

The two of you turn a corner, entering the shopping district. It's late, and most shops have already closed their doors. The only light comes from the street lights, casting rings of light onto the soaked pavement. 

Dazai grumbles faintly, something you can't quite hear. You sigh. 

“So, any ideas?” You say, extending a little bit of an olive branch. You really do appreciate your partner, and you love him as well, even though he can be childish and annoying. You value his time and intelligence greatly. 

Dazai sighs out a great breath, as you turn the corner onto the street that houses your little detective office. 

“Just a few things, we don't even know who she is yet.” He sounds tired, and a little depressed, and as the rain starts coming down harder than before the two of you sprint towards the office. 

You lock the door behind you with a decisive click, you're not taking any chances. The office is dark, but you can make out the familiar shape of the secretaries desk, and the darkened typewriter. You make your way up the back stairs, Dazai on your heels and open the door to your warm apartment. You share it, to cut rent costs. It's also conveniently placed right above the office. There are two people already in the room, sitting by the fire. 

Dr Yosano, one of the people you share the apartment with, is a very old friend of Dazai’s, and a great person to have around when one of you stumbled home, potentially very badly injured. She works as a doctor by day, and sometimes disappears at night. You don't ask her where she goes, she honestly scares you a little. But she’s a very kind woman, who’s known you for years now. She’s sitting across from the fireplace, a book in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

Atsushi is curled up in an armchair, textbooks and handwritten notes scattered out on the coffee table in front of him, little sighs gusting from his half parted lips. Atsushi is only eighteen, and studying to become a professor of literature one day. A good childhood friend of yours for many years, you considered him a little brother of sorts. You smile in Yosano’s direction, leaning down to press a kiss to Atsushi’s sleeping forehead gently. The poor boy overworks himself, always trying his best to keep up with some of the weirdos who go to his school. He’s a kind boy, good natured and handsome, and a bit oblivious. There's always a bunch of innocent college girls coming up to you, asking after him, yet he never notices. 

“So, how was it?” Yosano says, her voice pitched low so as to not wake Atsushi. You sink onto the couch beside her, your skirts brushing against your tights. You're wearing darker colors, a dark navy blue and black striped walking suite. You love this particular outfit, and the dark colors match the dark weather. Your skirts rustle around your feet as you lean down, pulling off your black kitten heels. You take off your hat, placing it gently on the coffee table away from Atsushi’s notes. 

“Gruesome. The body was mangled. Unnecessarily I might add.” You say, sinking back into the couch cushions with a sigh. Dazai hums behind you, hanging his brown coat on the rack. 

“Obvious crime of passion. None of her jewelry was stolen. And her face was completely intact.” Dazai sighs, sinking into the armchair opposite Atsushi’s sleeping form. “She was coming from some sort of charity ball? High society and the like.” He scoffs, his opinion on the upper class as clear as ever. You close your eyes as you let your body sink back into the soft fabric of the couch. It's late, and you can feel sleep tugging at you, pulling at your limbs and urging you to fall deep under, into a quiet, peaceful, sleep. You wish to obey. 

“Dazai? ‘M going to bed.” You murmur, taking a deep breath and slowly getting to your feet. You arch your back with a crack, and trudge towards the room you share with Yosano. He hums noncommittal in your direction, and Yosano sends you a small, tired goodnight. 

☂☂☂

The next few days are filled with boring, boring interviews. Interviews with relatives of the poor girl, interviews with her slimy brother, and interviews with her weepy rich boyfriend. But you get a few good things out of it. One, Dazai solves the case. And two, you get a free vacation.

“She was going to attend this mansion party.” The boyfriend of the dead woman tells you, swiping at his nonstop tears with a soaking wet handkerchief. “At the digression of a billionaire.” 

Her boyfriend is a rather ugly man, portly and balding but kind and sensitive. He hands you a small envelope sealed with a red wax seal. 

“I just know she would have wanted you to have it. I'm entrusting it to you.” He says, bowing his head in thanks and standing up to leave. 

The whole thing was a wash, a confusing mess of emotions and hidden words that you don't want to sort through, but as you and Dazai sit there, in the front office with that envelope in your hand. 

“You know.” You start, sitting back against the hard wooden back of your chair, “I wonder if this is what it feels like to strike gold.” 

Dazai spares you a small chuckle, before he stands up, stretching with a yawn. “Better get packing, partner.” He says, shooting you a smile. “We're going on a trip. And it looks like we're getting married.”

☂☂☂

“This place is huge.” You whisper in Dazai’s ear, gloved hand hooked in his elbow. You whisper the words, almost smacking him with the brim of your hat. You're wearing another walking suit, because it's raining, again, and you don't want to ruin your nicer dresses for this farce. 

The dress is a pretty brown, trimmed in black lace and ribbon, and matches Dazai’s brown and white suit well, in a way that says ‘we’re married and get our clothes tailored by the same person’. Because as of now, as you step through the threshold of the massive ivy-covered mansion, you are married. 

“Remember Dazai.” You hiss in his ear, as the servant by the door rings the knocker for you. “As of now, I'm your wife.” 

“I know darling.” He says, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. Your stomach whirls to life, butterflies, leaping and bounding inside you. You don't know if you’ll survive the night, truly.

The door opens with a crack, an older man with hair as silver as a coin peeks out. His eyes are beady, suspicious and angry as he looks the two of you up and down. You try not to fidget, standing straight and tall like you’re supposed to be there.

“Mr and Ms Osamu Dazai? Your invitation.” The butler says, eyeing you suspiciously. You try not to fidget with your wedding ring, hidden under the pair of brown leather gloves you wear.

“Yes, here.” Dazai says, passing the invitation over. “I guess you were informed of the change?” He sounds as careless as ever, but in this situation, it actually works in his favor. He sounds just like a rich newlywed husband, taking his new wife on a fine vacation to the countryside. You clutch his arm tighter, nodding at the butler dismissively. 

“I just really wanted to go, you know, and my darling Osamu managed to get an invite for me.” You giggle, playing up the young and in love. “Oh, you’re such a dear.” You simper, planting a lipstick kiss boldly on his cheek. His chest puffs up and he grins at you, sending the caretaker a side eye.

“Can you hurry it along? My wife is offly tired from the road.” Dazai says, and his voice portrays the air of someone who finds it very annoying to be doing something as tedious as checking identities. You reach up, adjusting the top hat that sits upon his head. The caretaker fixes the two of you with an unimpressed stare, but steps aside. 

“Very well, i’ll show you to your room then.” He says, ushering the two of you inside. The door shuts with a slam behind you, and you're suddenly surrounded by eerie silence. The large hallway is empty, and cold with portraits lining the walls. Their grand portraits, of stern looking men and women, positioned so they are looking down upon each person that steps foot inside the mansion. You dislike each of them immediately, but a stern looking woman dressed in an unpleasant blue dress stands out to you. She seems to be watching you specifically, and you clutch Dazai’s arm tighter, turning away from the unpleasant painting. 

The grand hall is big, arched ceilings support a large crystal chandelier that throws beams of light across every surface, be it the wooden paneled floor or the green wallpaper that lines the walls. The entire room is quiet, although faintly in the distance you can hear the sounds of a piano. You lean close to Dazai, whispering directly in his ear. 

“This place is so spooky babe.” You stage whisper, eyeing the butler out of the corner of your eye. 

“Don't be impolite darling.” Dazai stage whispers back. “Not everyone can have your suburb taste.” 

“Welcome to the Crowley Estate, Mr and Ms Dazai. You’re our last guests to arrive.” The Butler says, leading you up a large twisting staircase, wrought iron handling and wooden steps. Your heels make loud noises in the mostly abandoned room. Every now and then you can catch the faint glimpse of a maid, dashing back and forth and then disappearing into one of the doors on the landing. 

The Butler leads you down a hall, your footsteps vanishing into the carpeted floor. The doorknobs are silver, the many colored doors at odds with the green wallpaper. You eye them, taking note of any strange details. 

“You guys are in room seven. Dinner is in thirty minutes. Do not be late.” The Butler says. And then he turns on his heel and leaves. You sigh. 

“What a lovely man.” You say, turning the knob to room seven and stepping inside the room. 

☂☂☂

The maid leads you and Dazai to the dining room twenty minutes later. You're still attached at the hip, and as you open the large doors with a creek, the panicked chatter in the room dies. There's a small circle of people in the room, gathered around something, obscuring it from your view. And because you’ve seen this exact scene go down a few to many times, you have a bad feeling you know exactly what happened.

Arm still hooked in Dazai’s, you walk forward, half dreading the sight you know you’ll see when you arrive. The half circle of eccentrically dressed people part like the red sea, and what you see in the middle makes you cringe. 

The body of the butler, laying face down in the carpet with an axe buried deep in his back. You take a deep breath, and start your theatrics.

“Oh Hubby.” You say, turning dramatically and throwing yourself in your ‘husbands’ waiting arms. “It's a dead body baby. Oh that's so scary!” You say, your voice whiny and annoying even to your own ears. 

Dazai pats you on the back reassuringly. “What is going on here? Can't you see, my wife is deeply disturbed by this?” He says, as you cry fakely into his jacket. “She has a very delicate constitution.” He informs the crowd of confused people that watch your theatrics. You clutch his shoulders, forcing real tears to ruin your makeup. 

“Oh ‘Samu, our vacation is absolutely ruined!” You say, pulling away from his coat to stair beseechingly into his eyes. “And I was so looking forward to it. Whatever shall we do?” 

Dazai puts on an admittedly convincing look, eyes suddenly glued to your lips. Your heart is in your throat, beating an unsteady rhythm as the two of you stand chest to chest, your matching wedding rings flashing in the lowlight. All you can see is his eyes, the strange expression that sits on his face, all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears, all you can feel is him. 

“Well.” Dazai starts, his voice all breathy and low. “I guess we’ll just have to make our own fun then darling.” 

The world around you is gone. The other people in the room are simply gone. The dead body lying on the floor in a pool of blood is gone. All you can see is Dazai. His eyes lidded, locked on your lips. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing it lightly and he takes a breath in. And suddenly he’s moving closer. His eyes are still locked on your lips, and you feel your own eyes fall closed, your fingers notting in the fabric of his jacket and then—

Someone coughs, and you open your eyes, suddenly remembering that there is a dead body and six confused strangers in the room with you. You move away, flustered. 

“Is this really the time?” A woman says. She's an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, dressed finely in a periwinkle blue dress and a silver animal fur of some kind. She hides her annoyed expression well, but you can still see it in her eyes. The other occupants of the room nod.

They are an odd group, all dressed in finery and dripping with money. Their wealth drips off them, and if you weren't busy throwing a kind of fit, you would cringe away from them. They give off the air of people who think they are very important, far more important than those ‘commoners’. But right now, you are those people.  You take a deep breath, and continue on with the theatrics. 

☂☂☂

“What a waste of time.” You say, closing the door behind the two of you. The minute the door shuts you sink down into a chair, the exhaustion clear in your body language. 

Dazai chuckles to himself, hanging his brown coat on the coat hanger by the door. 

“They're all annoying, but none of them are murderers.” He says, placing his hat on the coffee table and checking his watch. 

You spent the rest of the evening in the room, deftly feilding the flying accusations that spun around the room, and doing your best to convince them that you’re a young and in love couple. 

“You think they believed us?” You ask, turning your eyes on Dazai. He sinks down next to you, shooting you a wink.

“You were very convincing.” He says, siding closer to you on the couch. You tamp down the butterflies in your stomach, outwardly rolling your eyes. As much as you wish his flirting was only for you, you know that's to the contrary. Although for some reason, lately he’s really stopped his flirting. Maybe he finally got tired of being rejected. And it wasn't flirting, it was double suicide invitations. Somehow, even though the man annoys you to no end, the butterflies still whirl around your stomach, your palms become sweaty and your heart beats double time. You hate him, just because of what he’s reduced you to. But you know you love him.

Dazai stands with a groan, stretching his arms above his head. “Well my Darling wife.” He says, shooting you an exaggerated wink. “I'm off to bathe. Won't be long.” He says, yanking one of the fluffy towels that the maid had left and soldering off to the bathroom. You give a noncommittal hum in return, and when the door slams behind him you start the process of getting ready for bed. 

First the outer jacket is taken off, folded and carefully placed in the dresser. Usually you would have a maid help you undress, but you were very suspicious of everyone in this house, be it staff or guests, and although it was hard you would rather just do it yourself. The outer skirt is taken off, then the thin layer of petticoats and the shaping pads and the pretty lace trimmed corset until you're left in just your silk and lace chemise. It was a pretty one, one of your favorites and unusually short, reaching about mid thigh. It was trimmed in layers of lace and the edges brushed your skin as you carefully picked up your pile of clothes, carrying them into the walk in closet. You're carefully placing them away when you hear the voices, people chattering just outside your room. You still, listening. 

“Do you think those two are actually married?” someone, a man, speaks first. You freez, not making a sound as they continue their conversation. They can't see you, but they might be able to hear you. 

“You think they are faking?” It's Margaret, the older woman from earlier, her haughty pompous voice full of disdain. She continues. “Then are they the perpetrators?”

The man coughs lightly before he speaks again. “I don't know, but I do know that when my wife and I were newlyweds we simply could not keep our hands off each other if you know what I mean.” You blush, still hiding in the closet. 

“I suppose you're right.” Margaret says, and you hear something hitting the outside wall. She might be leaning against it. “Well it seems like the husband is taking a bath. Maybe they don't get along that well after all.”

They continue their chatting, walking down the hallway and soon Margarets door slams, and you can hear their conversation through the wall. They think you can hear them, you suppose. A plan forming in your head, you carefully finish putting the clothes away. The walls are thin, very thin. Earlier you heard Margaret through the right walls, loudly complaining to the maid for the thousandth time. It would be so easy to fake it, to moan just loud enough that she can hear, and so can your other neighbors. You smile to yourself, trying to calm your racing heart and the embarrassment lighting your face. Just in time, you hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. 

You exit the closet in a rush, and turn on Dazai, advancing on him much like a predator. He smiles at you, with not a clue. 

“I was waiting for you.” You say, purposely pitching your voice a little higher than the purr you would usually use to seduce men. You need the snoopers on the other side of the wall to hear you. Or hear you enough that their suspicions are eased and they leave the room in a hurry. Dazai eyes you, confused. You're upon him now, and you slip your bare hand into his, trying your best to caress the skin, to seduce him with touch. Still gripping his hand, you pull him towards the bed. He stumbles after you, his face still pulled into one of confusion. 

“What are you doing?” Dazai asks you, a strange light in his eyes as you stop before the large bed. His eyes are locked on you, his hair still damp from the bath, droplets dripping down his neck and soaking the fabric of his complimentary bathrobe. The air in the room has changed, it's charged with electricity as he looks at you, his eyes jumping from the low lace collar of your chemise to your exposed thighs, to your lips. You smile, small and seductive. Maybe you're doing too much, it's not like the people on the other side of the wall can see you, but you can't help the faint hope that maybe he wants you, that maybe he loves you. You banish any thoughts like that from your mind and gently push him onto the bed. 

His back hits the fabric with a sound, a soft sound that you know the snoopers on the other side of the wall can't hear. He props himself up, still watching you. You hear a creak near the door, and you sigh. More suspicions are flying it seems. Time to up your act a little. 

“What are you…” Dazai tries, trailing off as you climb onto the bed, crawling forward on all fours, doing your best to employ all the seduction techniques you know. You don't stop until you're on top of his prone form, and then as you sit down, plopping yourself directly on his lap. He hisses, gripping your waist with a question on his lips and arousal in his eyes. 

“Name, what are you doing?” He hisses, his voice urgent but low. You ignore him, slowly grinding down on his lap, and the hardness you find there. His protests die on his lips as you move, back and forth along the length you can feel beneath the fabric. Dazai grips your hips in a slight protest, hands trembling against your skin as you lift your chemise over your head. His eyes run to your boobs, his dick twitching against your bare pussy. You whimper a little as you grind harder, the stimulation ruining your sanity. But you must hold on, this is only an act. 

“Why are you protesting babe?” You say, a little too loudly for the benefit of the watchers. “Are you too tired?” You grind down a little harder, and Dazai bites his lip. Hard. 

You lean down, pretending to kiss his neck as you speak. Your voice is a whisper, a caress, your body still singing with arousal. “They're suspicious. They're watching.” You whisper, moving your hips back and forth, back and forth. It's all the words it takes. It seems Dazai’s brain isn't completely fried by arousal, because understanding flashes through his brain, followed by something you can't quite place. It almost looks like disappointment. You banish the thoughts, for it's impossible and only going to upset you later. 

“You're quite needy today darling.” Dazai says, his voice heavy and deep. You do have to give him credit, it sounds oftly realistic and makes more heat pool in your gut. You bite back a whimper, fingers tracing the line of his bathrobe against his chest.

“I don't want that nasty body to ruin our vacation.” You pout, trying to conceal the obvious arousal in your voice. But you can't conceal your body's reaction, the wetness that spreads on his bathrobe. But, based on the hardness pressed against you, he can't control that either. It feels good to have at least this on him, it proves he's attracted to you in some way. It's a small consolation, but a consolation indeed. He chuckles beneath you, as you grip the ties of his bathrobe, pulling them undone and running your hands over the soft skin of his chest. He’s surprisingly built, with a faint abbs and a v-line running below the only part of his body still covered in soft white bathrobe. You giggle, running your hands along his body.

“You’ve been working out huh, baby.” You smirk. Dazai nods, hands tangled in the sheet as you grind down lightly, pussy leaving streaks behind on the fabric. 

“Wanted to impress you.” He gets out, his voice sounding surprisingly wrecked. His face looks almost open, losing some of the guards he usually has in place around people, and if you didn't know he was making this up, you would totally be fooled. You have to congratulate him. 

You grip his wrist, pulling his hand away from the sheet and bringing to you boob, giving him a permission of sorts to touch you. You want him to, in this case now and normally, and you wish he would take, take you however he wanted. You whimper as the rough pads of his finger come in contact with your sensitive nipple. If you strain your ears, you can faintly hear a commotion next door, what sounds like hushed conversation and the sound of footsteps, but the horny haze that surrounds your brain makes it hard to compute. You just need to control yourself until you hear them leaving, then you can go masturbate in the bath or something. 

Dazai’s hand moves from your boob, once again gripping your hips and moving you, to simulate sex. You just close your eyes and let him, letting your moans leak out of your mouth and into the open air. You hope he thinks they're fake. You can hear faint little pants and grunts from him, and every so often he bites his lip red, his eyes locked on you and you grind. The expression on his face is something you don't think you’ll ever forget. Eyes locked on your face, dark with arousal and something that looks like amazement or disbelief, flushed cheeks and bitten lips, parted slightly with little pants into the already stuffy air of the bedroom. You know you don't look much better, face flushed, lips releasing moans into the air. You don't know if you will be able to hold on much longer. 

And then, the sound you're waiting for. The next door slams loudly. “Oh, I must go downstairs.” Margaret exclaims loudly, and the sound of three sets of footsteps hurrying away is prelude to the end of this charade. You stop moving, still panting and quivering above him.

“They're gone.” You say, voice still full of arousal. Dazai staring at you. All this time, his eyes have never left you, your body, your eyes, your mouth. Their such a deep brown, the pupils dilated to almost black. There's a light in them, a light of disappointment, a light of desire. You don't know what to do from here.

Neither of you move, just frozen on the bed, you on top of him. It feels as if a spell might be broken, as if you are Cinderella and the moment you make a move to get up, the spell will break and the status quo will be back. The normal everyday you, and the Dazai that doesn't love you. You take a deep, deep breath, and prepare to move. 

Dazai’s hands anchor you in place, his eyes narrowing slightly as you try to move off him. You frown. He grips your thighs, big hands anchoring you in place. 

“Dazai…” You say, the word still full of arousal but tinged in confusion. He seems to be making a decision, weighing the pros and cons and as you sense his hands loosening around your waist you fall backwards. You spread your legs, fingers playing with your boobs and decide to take a leap of faith. 

“Dazai.” You start, your voice certain. “I want you too fuck me.”

The effect is immediate. The emotions at war in Dazai’s dark eyes vanish, and suddenly he's upon you, gripping your waist and pulling you toward him, toward his dick. The bathrobe falls off, landing without a sound on the blanket and all you see is skin, pale skin, and dark eyes. They dont leave you as he lines up his hard dick inside you, pushing the head past your walls. The effect is immediate, you arch off the bed with a moan. Dazai smirks.

“You look so pretty like this.” He says, hands still slowly pulling you down on his cock. “You feel what you’ve done to me baby?” 

His voice is rough as he slowly pushes in, hands gripping you so tight you're sure they’ll bruise. You whimper, hands gripping into the fabric beneath you as he bottoms out and starts to move. Your back arches off the bed with a moan, and as he sets a pace, fast and rough and oh so delicious, you grip his shoulders. 

“Oh god Osamu.” You practically shriek the words, nails scratching his back. “Oh god i love you.” 

You almost regret the words, but as he sucks possessive little marks into your neck, he murmurs the words into your skin. 

“I love you too.” Dazai says, the words to tender and full of sincerity you nearly break. And then, he hits that spot inside you and you come with a scream. 

☂☂☂

The atmosphere when you and Dazai enter the dining room the next morning, Dazai glowing and you limping and covered in hickeys, is one of many different emotions.

The maids are giggling, and even the butlers and some of the people at the large table are muffling laughter behind hands and napkins. Margaret sticks her nose in the air, as haughty as before.

And even though you have your work cut out for you, dealing with all these people and finding the killer, you find you are starting to anticipate the prospect. Dazai’s hand is still wrapped around your waist, supporting you as you walk around the table and you know he’ll be able to support you like this for a long time. It feels nice. 

“What are you thinking about?” Dazai says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You giggle. 

“Oh nothing.” you say, taking a seat beside him. “Nothing at all.”

...

End Notes: been dealing with a nasty headache lately. Annoying as fuck. Btw i also did a little bit of research on the clothes but i am by NO means a fashion history expert. I just have google and sometimes that's wrong. Tried my best though.

on a totally unrelated note…Junko posing is coming back on tik tok and im terrified.

its lowkey fun though…

[teacupsandcyanide]

expanding on my pet headcanon that post-canon once Sherlock drinks some shut the fuck up juice and apologises to Sally for all the shit he pulled over all those years, they fall into one of those friendships based mainly around awful things each other, as like, fun banter

Sherlock will walk onto a crime scene and Sally will be like "hi freak, how was your freak breakfast at your freak house? are you getting your daily nutrients are you eating enough frog's liver and spider legs?" and Sherlock will reply without missing a beat "no it was so sad I didn't have enough freak ingredients in my freak kitchen so i had to go to your mother's house instead"

Sally has a few nieces and nephews and manages to keep up with millennial and gen z insults to bring a wide range of derogatries to the table, and Sherlock goes from "I don't care about the solar system" to spending his free time obsessively studying twitter and tumblr because once Sally absolutely fucking totalled him with "begone, thot"

People around them who've known them for years are very weirded out by the shift. One day Sally opens with "wow Sherlock that curly girl method is doing wonders, you look at least 30% less Shirley Temple" and Sherlock is like "yeah I love it, it gives me volume and definition you could only dream of" and Anderson of all people says "i don't know if you as a white person can say that to a black woman" and Sally is like "no it's fine I called him a gay Slenderman last week so it tallies even"

A young detective entirely new to working with them together is totally taken aback when Sherlock greets Sally in the morning by handing her a cup of coffee and telling her she's dressed especially like a homophobic real estate agent today. The detective nearly starts an internal review process when Sally replies "aw, thanks [r slur]".

And occasionally someone else (often Anderson) tries to join in on the bit, and every time Sally and Sherlock have a silent mutual agreement to play mind games with said person until they stop.

Sally, while Sherlock inspects a body: Look at it go. Look at it hold that little magnifying glass in its spindly little fingers. Anderson: Hah, yeah, it needs a magnifying glass because it's so blind. Sally: Why would you say that? Why would you talk about our respected colleague like that? Anderson: You started - Sally: That's really fucked up, Anderson. Sherlock, without getting up from the floor: Yeah, Phillip. How's that supposed to make me feel.

Or, when someone thinks the bit is an invitation to be rude:

Sherlock: The snake came down through the vent in the ceiling, obviously. What's going on with you, Sally. Do you need glasses? Is it early onset dementia? A new DC, before Sally can reply: Probably too busy getting shagged last night. Sherlock, turning on the DC immediately with eyes like ice: The DC: Um. [mumbling] It's just a joke, I didn't mean it like that. Sherlock: How did you mean it, then? In what way did your unsolicited comment about the personal life of a colleague who is, by rank and in all other ways, vastly your superior, not qualify as sexual harassment and misogyny in the workplace? The DC: Um. Sherlock: Because to me, it really, really sounded like the sort of thing that got you demoted two minutes ago. The DC: ... You're not - you don't work for the Met you can't demote me. Sherlock: No. [:)] But Detective Inspector Donovan can. [Later after the DC has slunk away] Sally, who has been holding in laughter the entire time: Coming from YOU? Sherlock: Shush shush shush, I think he bought it.

[cheegu3]

~ Yandere Hyunjin - X31 [CULT SPECIAL 2/2 PTS]

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, cult themes (brainwashing etc), violence, blood/gore, murder, disturbing themes, swearing

wc: 3k

a/n: so I’m a bit tipsy and wrote this just like really quickly idek what’s going on or if this is shit lmao sorry, I will proofread this tomorrow mwah love u

summary: the gang from your hometown that you knew as criminals had now kidnapped you and as they take you to their destination you soon find out they’re actually a cult, will you be able to escape or will you become their pet forever?

‘‘ You’re..them ‘‘ you muttered at last somehow sounding disbelieved.

‘‘ You must’ve known right? At least a part of you knew all along ‘‘ he answered with a smirk.

‘‘ You must’ve known right? At least a part of you knew all along ‘‘ he answered with a smirk.

You huffed.

‘‘ If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve fought back harder than I did? ‘‘ you looked at him coldly.

‘‘ Well actually- ‘‘ he leaned in closer to you, so close that you could see your own reflection in his crazy, empty brown eyes.

‘‘ I think you wanted this ‘‘ he adds.

‘‘ W-what are you fucking crazy? ‘‘ you exclaimed hysterically, the panic was overtaking your body every second that passed.

He nodded and the smirk was back again as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. You bet he had seen way worse captures of his, who suffered a lot more.

‘‘ You want to know why? ‘‘ he asked tauntingly.

He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he went on.

‘‘ You’re a lonely pathetic woman in her 20s. You have no job, no money, no boyfriend or husband and no family ‘‘ he said this in such a mocking manner that it took you aback. You felt like your whole body went cold, like you were an insect under his magnifying glass and after he had inspected you he crushed you.

This was all too much for you. You tried the best that you could to turn away from him, sort of looking out the window - only, all the windows were covered up and you assumed it was to make you feel disoriented and not see where you were. It was smart, you’d admit that. On top of that the leader had kept you occupied so you didn’t even get the chance to feel what ways the car was turning to somehow name your location.

He didn’t say anything more for the rest of the ride except for a low,

‘‘ I’m Hyunjin. The leader ‘‘

Then he left you alone, you weren’t sure if he was watching you but it sure felt like his eyes never left you, even when you were turned so that you couldn’t see him in the corner of your eye, the feeling of his gaze lingered.

Not long after, the van came to an abrupt stop throwing you forwards slightly. The doors were slid open revealing the familiar guys from before. Only three of them were in the doorway now though, one shorter one with freckles, the other shorter one with a mean and stern looking face and one that looked like a golden retriever. As you looked at them you wondered how they had ended up here in this gang. They were once normal people just like yourself, what happened to them? Perhaps...they were kidnapped like yourself and they would try to make you one of them?

‘‘ Get out ‘‘ the mean looking one barked at you and then said to Hyunjin ‘‘ We’re here master. Everything is ready ‘‘

The leader reached over again to unbuckle your seatbelt but he wasn’t really looking at you this time, he seemed to be in a hurry. In fact he seemed to be so stressed when you had stepped out that he swept you off your feet. You yelped in surprise but he wasted no time, walking straight away towards the buildings doors. 

It looked like it was some kind of abandoned church. It was worn down and dark, covered in graffiti and had several white sheets covering up the window. You shivered at the creepy vibe it gave off, it looked like the perfect place for a gang.

As your group approached the entry doors, two of the guys from before hurried up in front to hold the doors open for Hyunjin and you. You felt him walk again and you tried to turn from your place in his arms to look around. You gasped.

People in masks and dark cloaks stood in a circle around some kind of table. The walls were dirty and worn out just like the outside and the familiar church seats didn’t look very familiar anymore, they were filled with clutter like books and candles. More candles decorated the walls and it had weird drawn symbols in white and red, which looked too much like blood.

You desperately tried to crawl out but his arms clinging onto you only got harder, tightening the grip. You were coming closer and closer to the group who had now turned when they noticed your presence. The group split in the middle, making way for you to pass through. You heart dropped when you had passed by the people.

Right there was an altar. It had old dry blood ingrained in it all over. By how the dried blood looked like it had run down the sides, you thought about how much blood there had to have been there, they probably killed someone and the thought of it makes you sick.

He sat you down unexpectedly gentle and stepped back slightly while looking at you. You felt like there wasn’t a chance in hell to escape with the mob getting ever so closer as the seconds passed, soon they’d be suffocating you although it felt like their mere presence was already doing that.

‘‘ W-what, where am I...Hyunjin ‘‘ you said his name slowly as if trying it out.

His expressions didn’t change, he looked cold like he had done that same night you met him.

‘‘ Y/n, I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time. Planning, waiting for the perfect moment to take you away ‘‘ he explained calmly. 

You didn’t say anything but when he said he’d been watching you for a long time you felt chills down your spine again. You didn’t feel safe here and you didn’t know what they wanted.

‘‘ Master decided to save you ‘‘ one of the mob whispered in an almost hysteric voice. 

They looked really riled up or quite frankly, crazy - from the way they got closer and closer and how they looked at their leader with so much admiration, like he was some sort of God.

‘‘ Save me? ‘‘ you asked looking straight at Hyunjin to try to read his face.

You thought that maybe they were just joking but he still didn’t move a muscle. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

‘‘ You see, all the people out there they’re really bad people. They have turned to the false God and I’m the only one who can save you ‘‘ he answered fairly casually studying your face and reaction to what he had said.

‘‘ Uh, false God? ‘‘

‘‘ Jesus and his father ‘‘

You huffed. It still felt like a joke but the people surrounding you made you doubt it. Either they were really good actors or this crazy man had taken advantage of vulnerable people and brainwashed them into worshipping him.

‘‘ He’s evil and tries to mask his evil words with acts of ‘‘ kindness ‘‘ ‘’ he air-quoted the word kindness and looked truly annoyed as he explained this to you.

You weren’t really sure how to respond.

‘‘ I...Appreciate that and what you do but I would like to go home now, is that okay? ‘‘ you tried.

‘‘ No ‘‘

Silence followed. You felt like the mob were silently judging you and maybe even hated you because you got all this attention from their precious leader.

‘‘ U-um well I do have to go, I’m not interested sorry ‘‘ you swung your legs over the stone seat and put your feet on the ground below.

He didn’t move from his spot which made you hopeful, but then when you approached the mob expecting them to step aside for you to pass - they didn’t. They stood just as still, just like him. You saw him turn to you and then felt a hard grip around your forearm.

He was angry but you also saw some hint of disgust in his eyes.

‘‘ See everyone how grateful you are that I saved you, see what could’ve become of you. We’ve got a lot of work to do with this one ‘‘ he said to the mob while staring into your eyes. He smirked for a moment and that’s when you realised, this was a cult.

He was fully aware of the truth vs made up things and how he affected all these people but you supposed he liked the power. It made you sick yet again to think about how many lives he had ruined by spewing such nonsense.

His loyal followers all shouted in union,

‘‘ Yes master! ‘‘ 

Before Hyunjin started to drag you to a doorway at the opposite side of the room. It felt like his grip was getting tighter and tighter and you groaned quietly at the pain, it was sure to leave bruises but you knew he didn’t care - he had probably left a fair amount of bruises on his followers before. 

He took you through the doorway and turned to the right. You reached a long stone corridor that felt very creepy. He kept dragging you until he had gotten to the room at the end of the corridor. There, he still kept his iron grip on you while fumbling in his pockets to take out a silver key.

‘‘ This is where you will be staying ‘‘

Anger bubbled up inside you. Who is he to decide that he was gonna ‘’ save you ‘’ to kidnap you and to order you around without you having a choice? It made you feel so belittled, and because of it you hated him already and what made it worse is the fact that you were pretty sure he enjoyed it.

He shoved you in and closed the door behind him swiftly without turning his back to you, smart, he didn’t even give you one opportunity to escape him.

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘ he gave you a small smile. 

You wanted to punch him so bad, to kick and scream and to run for your life. The room he had pushed you into was as cold-stoned as the corridor had been, literally. It looked like an old-school prison cell in those castles with stone floor, walls and ceiling. The windows were barred shut and was way too high up for you to reach anyway. 

The only thing that made it look anything other than a prison cell was the double bed in the middle of the furthest wall. It had scarlet velvet looking covers and looked quite comfortable. In that moment you wanted nothing more than for him to leave so you could let your growing exhaustion take over you and figure out a plan to escape later after resting.

And so he actually did - to your surprise. You suppose it was because of the look of burning hate you had given him this whole time or that you had refused to answer him but whatever the reason, you felt relieved.

He sighed and left, closing the door rather harshly after him but you didn’t even look at him, he didn’t deserve that.

Your head found the pillow automatically and you let your body relax, falling asleep not that long after.

-

‘‘ Hello? Y/n get the fuck up ‘‘ the distant voice who had been mumbling, or least that’s what it sounded like to you - suddenly started to get louder and clearer.

You body jerked awake when you realised it wasn’t a dream and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was those brown eyes of the leader himself. He looked annoyed, like you were just a burden to him and the fact that you’d woken up so late was just another inconvenience.

He rolled his eyes.

‘‘ Finally. We haven’t got all day Ms princess ‘‘ 

You yawned at looked at him still half-asleep. You got up without protesting though because you didn’t want to anger him any more. 

You wasted no time and even got dressed in front of him, ignoring his presence while continuing to be in a dazed and tired state. 

He seemed to wait as patiently as he could but that didn’t stop him from sending you glares every now and then. 

At last you were ready, dressed in a white plain summery dress that had been put out for you to wear. You noticed while walking up to him that he was now wearing very light coloured clothes as well - a strong contrast to the day before. He didn’t have his piercings on, his tattoos were covered and he wore long white linen clothes. You gagged at the thought of him picking out clothes just so you would match.

‘‘ Come on ‘‘ he mumbled. His patience seemed to be running out.

He opened the door and basically pushed you out in front of him, then he closed the door once again and followed quickly. It felt like he was breathing down your neck, not giving you any space to - you assumed - not make you get away. You ignored him being that close and focused on his directions instead. He told you to go back the same way you had come from and out of the church, into a garden where the ‘’ ceremony ‘’ as he called it would happen.

You stayed silent and walked to where he wanted you to. The church was empty, which was a bit odd but you kept going until you laid your hands on the  big doors again and pushed it open.

You recognised the place you had been at yesterday, even the car was still there. But you couldn’t do anything, not even get close to the car before Hyunjin barked his orders,

‘‘ Right. Then walk straight to the garden. No stopping ‘‘ and you reacted like a robot, casting one last sorrowful look at a possible escape route. 

You followed his directions and walked into a clearing in the forest the church had been hiding behind itself. The mob was there again.

Of course

You thought yourself and couldn’t stop your hand from forming a fist. More people, less chance of escaping. But where else would they be if not by the side of their precious leader?

They gave you very genuinely happy smiles which freaked you out and you smiled back awkwardly to not feel like you were being rude. As you approached the group Hyunjin put his fingertips to your upper back guiding you forwards, or rather to the middle of the circle again who parted once you got close, allowing you to pass through.

Then you spotted it, another altar. 

But this time you weren’t really scared, until Hyunjin told you lay down on it and his words from before rang in your head over and over again,

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘

Fuck

What was going to happen to you now?

‘‘ Welcome everyone ‘’ he started off his speech, turning to the gathered crowd.

‘’ We’ve gathered here today to make a union, to forever bond the master, the greatest, to y/n, the princess ‘‘

Your head was spinning. It felt like the coldness of the stone you were laying on had transferred to your blood, making it ice cold. You weren’t even sure if you were alive anymore or if this was possibly just a dream.

‘‘ Y/n? ‘‘ he suddenly called out which caught your attention.

You turned your head to him, tears threatening to fall any second now.

‘‘ I have to do this, for us to be together forever ‘‘ he said this in an almost pitiful way and your gut knew what was coming but you didn’t want to believe it.

You were going to fight and be optimistic until the last second.

‘‘ You first, then me okay? If you keep still this will be quicker ‘‘ the fact that he looked truly sorry made you forget for a moment what kind of person he was.

He walked up to you and you got so enhanced in his eyes, it was easy to see how all the other people had believed his lies. You were even ready to accept your faith, and so you did the only thing you could - you closed your eyes and waited.

You weren’t sure but you think you heard him say ‘’ good girl ‘’ under his breath. You also heard some distant hushed talking and some items being scraped together but you held you breath and kept your eyes closed, it was for the best.

No closed eyes or deep breaths could’ve prepared you for what came next though,

the pain was unbearable. A cold metal that was sharp penetrated your chest causing you to scream out.

‘‘ Stop! Stop! Stop! ‘‘

Hyunjin hushed you comfortingly and stroke your hair slowly, placing small kisses to your forehead but you barely felt them - the pain was so overpowering it felt like it was the only thing you felt.

Eventually when your breaths started becoming more heavy and your vision started to get blurrier, you opened your eyes one last time. You saw the man you had started to hate in such a short time, now...he was your killer. 

Then you closed your eyes again and waited and waited while it felt like the liquid had decorated your entire body, hell maybe even the whole forest. 

At last, after much suffering

the world did become black and you were finally at peace.

[robotrekwalkthrough]

Chapter 1

The Beginning: Hero’s House

A voice is heard: ”Hero! Hero! Please wake up!...” Apparently someone was waking up Hero, but who is trying to wake him?

That voice was heard again: "So… you don't want to…in that case…"In immediately afterwards an explosion sound was heard, so loud that it startled Hero awake: "No! I blew up the Invention Machine again! Forgive me, dad. I didn't mean to, I promise not to…!" He realized that it was only a dream and that his father, the Dr. Akihabara, was the one who woke him up. At such a reaction his father just laughed and said:

Akihabara:You're finally awake. You slept for a long time. While you were sleeping I finished unpacking your room. Please get up. Nagisa wants to meet you. She just finished unpacking.

Somnolent, Hero got up from the bed and grabbed his magnifying glass that he had on the bed stand. Greeted his cat, Kurogane: "Hello Kurogane, are you tired by the trip?", the cat replied as if he understood:

 Kurogane:Meow...meow...

Then sighing, Hero added:" If only I could understand your language. "Then he went to checked that all his things were in the new house: "My computer it's here, that's good", exclaimed that his computer was intact on his new desk. then try the Internet connection:

Hero:Hmm…I wonder if it can connect to "Quintet Network."(reading the computer screen):

 "¡¡Connect!! Welcome to "Quintet Network"! Games: "ActRaiser 2" and "Illusion of Gaia." Popular new releases! Buy them! "No carrier." 

(Disappointed by the test)

“Oh my! The line was cut again. Never mind, I'll try again later. I really want to buy those games and also looking forward to the new one release! Hmm…I wonder where the Quintet main office is located? I know there is a small branch office here, I don't know where it is either, but at least it is on this place, but the main one? I think in the far planet called *Earth.”

He saw that it also had a fireplace and that it was also lit, he said: "I have a fireplace! I will be able to spend the cold nights without any problem". With his magnifying glass he inspected if he found bugs, but he got so close that he burned himself.

Hero:Ouch!

His father, who was watching him, warned: "Be careful with the fireplace…!(realizes what happened) Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Hero replied a little pained: "I'm fine!" to which the father exclaimed: "What am I going to do with you?", and then say:”

Akihabara: Are you going to talk to the Mayor today? Hurry, before it gets dark.

Hero replied as he went to see his bookcase: "Okay, dad…I'll be there in a few moments."

He took several books of the *“Inventor’s Friend” into his hands, but none of them understood:

Hero: It's hard to understand how to make a sword for a robot, let alone, if I haven't a robot.(thinking)"First, I would need to build one, but I still don't know how to use the Invention Machine."

Then he started looking for different items to put in his backpack, knowing that they will soon be useful to them, but first he found money:

Hero: Wow! 500 GP, one "Clean" and two "Cure."

After getting everything he needed for the road, he left his room to go to the living room. In the living room, he found a young-looking woman standing there, as if waiting for something, or rather someone. Hero approached her and before he could greet her, she said first: "Good morning Hero" so Hero shyly greeted her: "Hello…Excuse me, how do you know my name…wait…Nagisa?" Remembering her dad mentioning someone by that name who had helped unpack her things. So he thanked her.

Hero:Miss Nagisa. Thank you very much.

Nagisa kindly replied, "Anytime, Hero." 

Hero stayed see at Nagisa and thought: "Her face, reminds me a lot of my...That's impossible! She can't be my...Besides her voice is different." Sad he dries his tears.

Concerned Nagisa asked:"Something wrong, Hero?" 

Hiding his feelings, smiling replied:"Nothing, I'm fine."

A relieved Nagisa replied:"I'm glad you're well."

Then Nagisa told him:

Nagisa:You look tired from moving. At least everything's unpacked now. Today you should pay your respects to the Mayor. He's in the big building. It is located to North right now. When you're through, come straight back here. Don’t' wander around.

After hearing those clear instructions, Hero looked towards the basement, thinking that the Invention Machine was there. Going that way, he was stopped by Nagisa's words: "Hero. Quit stalling. Go and see the Mayor." The boy obeyed and left his house to talk to the Major. The only thing he didn't do was avoid wandering around town.

*This is not mentioned in the game, but you as a player might think that in that world, they would called planet Earth and in Japanese:Gaia star.

*There’re 10 books of the Inventor’s Friend:Level 2:Sword 1,Level 3:Shot 1,Level 4:Bomb 1,Level 5:Shield 1,Level 6:Hammer 1,Level 7:Punch 1,Level 18:Power pack, Level 19:Weather, Level 20:Vanish and Level 24:Repair.

[anthrogothic]

Body/Prision

~Well, this is the first fic I've posted (not that I've written many). Maybe I found it interesting to explore the emotional and psychological side of the clones and, of course, Echo. Besides, of course, other little things. Hope you like it. 🥺 (and sorry for any mistake as this fic was originally written in brazilian portuguese).

Second part heeeeree

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader (in this chapter only Hunter and Wrecker appear for now)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Body insecurity and bullying.

You were always a woman of science. Curious, persistent and genius. As a child, you loved growing plants and watching animals. Sometimes experimented with changing the color of flowers in jars with colorful products or hatching small eggs of birds and reptiles in small boxes bathed in light and heated cloths. You once set fire to his parents Aldeeranian Silk curtains, after pointing a magnifying glass in front of the sunlight streaming through the windows.

No wonder you was one of the top students at Naboo's Faculty of Science when was older. After all, you were one of the few females in your class. Being constantly the victim of offensive comments and jokes, mainly because of baggy clothes that didn't mark your body, adopted after years of harassment for your sharp curves. Your glasses and voluminous hair didn't do much for the "jokes" to stop. Withdrawn in any group of popular and partying colleagues, you had nothing but to study with your few fellow “nerds”.

As a result, you soon got your first job in the field. Standing out so much that you was invited to participate in the cloning processes on Kamino a few times, even creating a certain professional relationship with Nala Se, the chief scientist.

You weren't a fan of cloning, even though it was incredible, you found it somewhat unethical in relation to the impact on the lives of Jango Fett clones. They weren't just battle products or numbers to you, but Human Beings with as many rights as anyone else. That they should have autonomy over their lives. But work is not always 100% pleasant, as much as it is something you love as long as you understand being human.

With your occasional visits to Kamino, you ended up having the sympathy of the clones, precisely for treating them like ordinary people, with different names and personalities despite the identical DNA and their fateful serial numbers.

You even ate with them in the cafeteria instead of the staff room and played with them in your free time and some would sneak men's uniforms for you, who were too bothered by the looks and teasing you received in your tight women's uniform.

One day, during a typical meal with your friends, a tone of laughter and nasty comments made you take your attention off your plate.

You poked your clone friend in the shoulder on your right.

"What is happening?"

He, without even looking up, snorted a laugh and spoke before taking the meal to his mouth:

"So you don't know the subject of the moment? There is a new squad among us. Weird… but they haven't suffered a single casualty on the field so far."

You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck a few times in an attempt to see something.

"I was not informed of this. I have not been assigned to inspect newly graduated soldiers for some time. But why the laughter and so much whispering?"

Deep in your brain, the bitter memory of your college days was pulled.

Your friend gave you an incredulous look, gesturing to find the right words to avoid any reprimand from you:

"They… well… are technically defective. Very different from us. No wonder they nicknamed them The Bad Batch."

He stifled a laugh. Soon getting punched in the arm accompanied by a scowl from you.

"Okay, okay. Forgive me, clone rights advocate."

His irony was clear, making you roll your eyes and get up, heading towards the counter where they left the used dishes. After thanking the wrinkled green lady who served the meal, you turned in the direction of leaving the cafeteria, but a sharp impact on your face and chest propels you back, followed by a lot of pain and strong hands gripping your elbows.

"Hey! Are you okay?"

A familiar, but deeper and stronger voice resonated in your ears, making you open your eyes faster than you normally would, as you bring your hand to your forehead and in the background thanking the Maker for wearing contact lenses instead of glasses today . It took you a while to map the face of the man in front of you. His long dark hair fell to his shoulders, his red bandana letting out a few shorter strands across his forehead, his almond-shaped eyes looking a little worried, and finally, a tattoo that covered the entire left part of his face.

He was familiar…but at the same time very different from the other clones. Even the armor, grey and red. Definitely seeing a different face in that cafeteria was a bit intriguing.

"I think you broke her, Hunter!"

A loud, husky voice came from behind you, making you turn your back to the tattooed man, just to behold the huge soldier who covered your entire field of vision.

He was huge, broad and with perfectly shaped muscles. Gradually, your eyes traveled from his abdomen, across his broad chest to his face. This one had no hair. He had a blind eye, with a huge scar running from there to the ear. The clone's good eye looked you up and down, literally.

"I'm fine… sorry… I-"

You were shocked by the image of both men. Could it be they who your friend had spoken of?

You can barely complete your sentence when interrupted by a clone next to you.

"Well well. The scientist and her laboratory freaks. How comical..."

He didn't even stop to stare at you, being followed by two other clones who clearly enjoyed the bad joke.

The men beside you clenched their fists and the bigger one growled, taking long, heavy strides in front of you, until he was stopped by the tattooed-faced clone, who practically jumped in front of him, bracing a hand on his chest.

"Forget it, Wrecker. It's not worth it… and we can't take another warning for assault in the cafeteria."

The taller one nodded a few seconds later, clearly disappointed not to get his hands on his attacker.

With slow steps, you approached them, curious and also irritated by the other clone's words.

"Idiots."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your voluminous breasts.

"You are the new squad the others are talking about, aren't you?"

There was a certain wonder in your voice now.

"Force Clone 99, doctor!"

The two said in chorus, with clear pride in their words and saluting.

"The rest of the team is going through the assessment upstairs. Miraculously we both got through!"

Said the taller clone, with humor in his voice, pulling a smirk from the tattooed clone.

You smiled, even more in awe of them. They were beautiful, unique and not "sloppy".

"Nice to meet you Hunter and… Wrecker, isn't it? My name is Y/N, I work in the lab."

The two looked at each other, minimally polite treatment to the clones was a little rare around here.

"We've heard about you. Won't you give me a warning? For… bumping into you?"

Hunter was a little suspicious, moving closer to you, watching your forehead. Looking for any evidence of injury.

"Oh no, of course not. It was an accident. I also barely looked where I was going."

You tried to be as gentle as possible, despite your brow and nose bothering you, already realizing that it couldn't be too easy for them to get along with each other. You continued:

"Trust me, I know what it's like to be bothered all the time by little jokes and to have people pick on me out of simple dislike. I'm not like the rest of the employees."

Wrecker approached you, already with a content expression on his face.

"There is! I liked her! At least someone here doesn't hate us!"

The clone pulled you into a hug, pressing his side with yours. You blushed a little, as physical contact was never common with you.

Hunter continued with a suspicious expression and his arms now crossed, making him even more imposing, just taking the look off your face, when the communicator you carried in your pocket beeped.

Brought out of your reverie by Wrecker's tight embrace and Hunter's form, you picked up your communicator to read the newly arrived messages.

"Uh… I need to go. Nala Se never give me a break. See you later guys. Hope to meet the rest of you!"

You headed towards the exit, leaving a sympathetic smile as you left the clones. They were still there, trying to absorb how kind you, a scientist, were to them.

[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter Eighteen (Zuko x Reader)

Chapter 17

Word Count: 2,200

Author’s Note: Shit’s hitting the fan y’all - not just in Two Halves but in everything else as well. I’m formatting this and ignoring all the impending doom swirling around me by drowning it out with Disney move soundtracks. 

You wake before Zuko the next morning, which isn't hard considering you barely slept. Toph arrives under the cover of early dawn, the sky just becoming gray as her ship lands on the palace grounds; you meet her without your husband, as you never got the chance to tell him she was coming the night previous. 

“You didn't have to rush out here,” you tell her, clutching her hands in an anxious vice. “It's not safe.” 

“When have I ever cared if anything was safe?” she scoffs. “Sparky clearly needs help protecting you.” 

The words are delivered with sarcastic wit, but her fingers shake in your palm. 

You decide you won't tell her about Qiang’s threat - you don't want to give him reason to hurt anyone else. Instead, you tell her that the palace is under constant, heavy surveillance, and that you're still unsure who exactly is conducting the strange occurrences that have plagued you or what their motives are. Not exactly a lie, but enough that you feel she won't be put in any more danger. 

“Do you think you can even trust your guards?” Toph wonders, her arm clenched tightly to your elbow. 

“Suki vetted every one of them herself,” you tell her. “But… we still don't know.” 

As you walk with her through the palace, nothing feels secure - the servants that pass you all seem suspicious, the guards and metal benders that flank you all looking like strangers through the gaze of your fear. Anyone could be working under Qiang; the thought of being so unsafe in your own home, even with the people you trust most beside you, makes you ill to the point you feel dizzy. 

“Zuko should be up,” you blurt. “Why don't you spar with him before breakfast? I’ll meet you.” 

Toph’s brow furrows with unease, her grip on your bicep becoming tighter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

You nod, but don't bother to put on a brave face. 

“I just feel a little tired,” you reply. “I didn't sleep very well last night.” 

Again, not a lie. 

Toph considers this for a moment, no doubt gauging your pulse, then concedes, letting you go with a firm, nervous squeeze. 

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll stay close.” 

When you see that she goes without incident, you sweep through the corridor, hastily making your way back to your own, personal bedroom, and locking the door behind you. For a moment, you stand staring at the threshold, considering pushing your vanity or wardrobe in front of it to barricade yourself in. 

Your vanity. Your wardrobe. 

It sinks in that you haven't been alone in this room since you returned from Ember Island; you moved your belongings into Zuko’s room, opting to sleep next to him and making plans to convert the room back into a sunroom. You pace the floor slowly, inspecting the bed and its thin, billowing canopy, the windows and their gorgeous views beyond lightly veiled curtains; had you stayed in this room, they'd have been switched out for heavier ones in anticipation of winter, but they remain, letting in cool air that chills the dormant space. Dust has gathered on the deep, glossy wood of your vanity, your fingers leaving streaks in their wake as they run along its edge. You pull the single drawer open as if by instinct, something catching in your chest as its only remaining contents slide out from the shadows. 

A single pai sho tile - the lotus. 

On its side, so minuscule you can barely make it out, is a series of addresses; you discovered the markings one night while nervously toying with the gift from Iroh, finding various locations around the world listed on the piece after inspecting it under a magnifying glass. You told no one of this, not even Zuko, knowing deep down that it was something Iroh meant only for you. Your fingers trace over the address in the Imperial City - a pub by the name of Ichigo’s. 

Without a second thought, you dash to the trunk at the foot of your bed and pull a cloak from its depths - the one you and Zuko used to navigate the city unnoticed during your wedding celebrations. You strip out of your ceremonial robes, folding them neatly in the space where the cloak was and replacing them with your traveling clothes. You thank the spirits for the cold weather as you pull the cloak tightly around yourself, making sure it obscures your face before leaving the room once more. 

In the corner of your bedroom, there's a hatch; it's hidden under a false floorboard, beneath a thick rug, and leads to tunnels that wind in a labyrinth below the palace. Zuko explained that they've been there for hundreds of years, known to very few select people within the palace walls as an escape for the royal family should the need ever arise. 

“It's how we hid when Aang invaded the Fire Nation,” he told you. “It's where I confronted my father and left.” 

You raise the hatch from its disguise, slipping into the hole it forms in the floor with a single candle, the lotus tile, and the knife with which Qiang intends for you to kill your husband. In a matter of seconds, the board and rug fall back into place, and you slip from the palace in the dark, the entire world above unknown to your disappearance. 

The streets of the Imperial City are unfamiliar to you, but you make an effort to walk with sure steps. Your face is well hidden under your cloak, shadowed by the gray gloom of a silver sky, but it isn't as if anyone is curious enough to slow and peer beneath it; the air is brisk, and people rush past you in a haste to get where they need to go, back into warmth. 

Ichigo’s is on the fringes of the city, resting on a small hill beside the docks amongst a cluster of other businesses; together, they form a small alley and marketplace, its shops and stalls either shuttered or lit with hanging burners to fight off the winter cold. As you approach the bar, climbing over a set of wood steps that creak and shift under your weight, rain begins to fall. 

The inside of the bar proves much more welcoming than its surly exterior. In one corner, a fireplace burns with a wide, open hearth, a set of thick logs crackling cheerfully within. The paneled walls are decorated in an array of tapestries and promotional posters for other local businesses, and the tables that span the room are cozy and intimate, seated with cushions and placed atop tatami mats that buffer the rough wood floors. The bar itself is also quite quaint; only a few feet long and hosting about four seats, its shelves of liquor bordered by a twinkling string of lanterns and a small, handwritten message board announcing the day’s kitchen specials. What catches your eye, however, is the cluster of pai sho tables against one wall, the one farthest occupied by an elderly man in a white robe; you approach him tentatively, taking the seat opposite him and bowing respectfully under the guise of your hood. 

“Are you interested in a game?” the man asks. His voice is kindly, his mouth spreading into a grandfatherly smile as he speaks. “I don’t often find strangers willing to play against me.” 

“A game would be nice,” you reply, unsure what exactly you’re doing but knowing this man must be the reason Iroh sent you here. “Do you mind if I play with my own lotus tile?” 

“Not at all,” the man accommodates. “I too have my own set of tiles.” 

You reach into the pocket of your cloak, placing your lotus amongst the tiles set up on the game board; the man observes you carefully, leaning in to get a better look at the piece you’ve brought with you. 

“Do you mind if I see that for a moment?” he asks. “The craftsmanship is exquisite.” 

You nod, allowing him to take the piece. He turns it over in his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the intricately carved design and holding it up to his face, inspecting it with great discretion. A nervous flicker tickles your stomach as he traces over the sides of the tile, no doubt finding the inscriptions on its surface. 

“You’ve been sent by a friend of mine,” the man finally states. 

“I believe so,” you respond. “I’m in need of some help.” 

“Then you’re in the right place,” the man says with a grin. He stands, handing the lotus tile back to you and ushering you to follow him. “Come with me. There’s another friend I’d like you to meet.” 

Wary, you follow him to the side of the bar, where he lifts a heavy curtain and slips into a back room. You clutch the knife in your pocket tightly, discreetly, hoping you haven’t just made a grave mistake and gotten yourself in more danger. He takes you through the bar’s storage room, moving aside a tower of boxes to reveal a small door, held in place by a simple, secure latch; he snaps it open, leading you through a low archway that descends into the building's basement. 

On the other side of the short passage, you find a tiny, yet nicely decorated sitting room - curtains hang from the ceiling creating a tentlike atmosphere, parted in places to reveal maps of the four nations hung on the walls. The center of the room is occupied by a large desk upon which many books and scrolls are scattered, and the air is heavy with the smoke of incense. Under the single lantern that lights the space, you spot the familiar face and humble stature of an older woman. 

“Advisor Yong,” you gasp. 

She stands in shock, pacing quickly over to you as you lower the hood of your cloak to reveal your face. She takes your hands in her own, clutching them tightly. 

“My lady,” Yong breathes with as much awe as you addressed her with. “How did you come all this way? Are you alone?” 

“Iroh gave her his tile,” the man who brought you explains. “I assume he sent her for her safety.” 

“There are tunnels under the palace,” you add. “I told the staff I was feeling ill and snuck out. Nobody knows I'm here.”

Yong guides you to the table, sitting you down beside her and telling the man to fetch you a cup of tea. The time-wisened lines in her skin seem deeper than usual, creased by a frown that distorts her whole face.

“They'll be discovering that you're gone soon,” she says, “so we must make this quick. Has Iroh told you about his membership with the Order before?” 

You shake your head, furrowing your brow in confusion. 

“The Order of the White Lotus,” Yong elaborates, “is an ancient society that operates beyond political bounds. We come together to share ancient philosophy and knowledge, but since the war… we act as a sort of lifeline organization as well. Emergency aid for those who need it.” 

“Iroh gave me that lotus tile when he was here for the wedding,” you tell her. “He must have known something I didn't because we’re in much more danger than we thought - Qiang threatened me. He wants me to kill Zuko.” 

“Qiang…” Yong mutters. “He can't be the one behind this. He doesn't have the manipulative tact to convince so many groups to act according to his will.” 

“He made it seem as if they were huge,” you continue. “He told me they had informants all over the palace.” 

“He's a good liar,” Yong dismisses, though her expression remains concerned. “Intimidating, too; that's why he was the one to threaten you. But he isn't the leader. What did he tell you? When he gave you the order?” 

“He said they'd kill my family. I don't want to lose anyone, but Katara and Aang…” 

Yong nods. 

“Aang is too important,” she finishes for you. “His death would devastate the world and put countless lives in danger. I promise, we won't let any harm come to them or anyone else.” 

She stands once more, offering a hand with which she raises you up. She continues to clutch it, gripping you as if letting go means surrendering you to the enemy. 

“I’ll call a meeting of our members within the city,” she states. “We have a few members staffed at the palace who we’ll ensure are at your guard. I’ll alert internal security and have them investigate Qiang immediately.” 

The man returns, and Yong instructs him to leave the tea and accompany you back to the palace - as far as he can without compromising the security of the tunnels. 

“Advisor Yong,” you say as you're ushered again through the passage and out the back of the pub, “we only have a week. Is that… do we have enough time?” 

Yong’s eyes sweep your face, her pupils flitting back and forth as she tries to find the right words to say.

“I won't lie to you,” she finally answers. “I don't know. All I can promise you is that we’ll do our best. We reconquered Ba Sing Se with much lesser numbers than we have now - here's hoping those odds are still in our favor.” 

📚 table of contents 📚

✨ join me on patreon ✨

☕ buy me a coffee ☕

{ subscribers: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @celamoon @omgwhattheeven @i-am-not-a-thot @fandomtrash1616 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @just-another-romantic @berkeliums @eridanuswave @oleander-in-the-wind @kinismanditory @lammello @peppermenty @theawesomefactor123 @loganrwebb @ijustwannabecanadian @a-hopeless-fan @softvv @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @pearl-stonecutter @crazy0t @commander-rex @kittyddandnyla @abbyarchie @smol-grandpa @nonbinary-rogers @themanwiththemetalarmsdoll @witchywrter @canibea-whore-yet @fuckwhateverfuck @eridanuswave @duh-dobrik @sum-stuff13 @whalerus @yeetletzgetitjae @thedemigodsarealivebitch @irreplaceable-ecstasy @mysticpeacecrusade }

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 27

Chapter 27- Operative One- Captured

"Roy Mustang here." he'd stayed late at the office today, pretending to do paperwork. But really, he'd been expecting this call.

"Roy. It's your favorite Aunt."

"You are my only Aunt, Auntie." Roy couldn't keep himself from smiling.

"Well an old friend of yours has stopped by my bar-"

In the background, Roy heard girls shrill voices, and a command barked in a strange tongue, followed by the sounds of flesh striking flesh.

"He simply couldn't wait to see you, so I figured I'd give you a call."

"Of course." Roy slid his gloves into his pocket, smirking. "I'll be there soon.".

The bar was deserted, and Roy strode in, looking around. Vanessa came down the stairs- the side of her face was starting to swell, and she was going to have one heck of a black eye.

"Ness?" he asked, looking her over critically.

"It's fine." she brushed him off happily, giving him a wining smile.. "He got one good shot in, but then the other girls all stormed the room. He's upstairs with your Aunt and them all right now."

"Is anybody else hurt?"

"Andrea had a bloody nose, but it's not bad. Who is this guy, anyways?"

"Foreign intelligence. He's a Drachman agent- and he may have tried to take Edward."

"Edward? That's the little alchemist, right? The one who's just a kid?"

Roy couldn't help the smile that tugged the corner of his lips. "Yeah. That's him. But don't call him small."

"Right. Come get this bastard, then." Vanessa grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs. Her purple skirt fluttered behind her, but Roy focused straight ahead, swallowing. Now wasn't a time to remember old memories- now was a time to focus on the task at hand.

Vanessa led him down the hallway, opening the heavy oak door to her room.

The folding bed had been folded back up into the bureau, giving them much more room. Andrea held a bloody handkerchief to her nose, brown eyes staring daggers at the center of the room, though the blonde smiled at Roy. Tracy stood in the corner, arms crossed, surveying the scene with the calm coal dark eyes of the Xinganese woman she was.

And Rachel, the green eyes brunette, stood shouting at the man, who was currently hogtied to a wooden chair in the middle of the room, struggling furiously against his bonds.

Madame Christmas sat in a chair of her own- she was in her black bodice and skirt as usual, not a purple feather out of place on her black hat. The only thing that gave her away as the 'master' of the room was the revolver she held in her white gloved hand. She smiled when Roy entered the room.

"So nice of you to drop by, Roy. Is this the man?"

Roy looked over. The man had long, greasy brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were silver. He wore a rough brown coat and black slacks, and he stared at Roy with a look of hatred on his face.

"Not exactly the one, but I'm sure he knows what I'm looking for."

"Ya tebe nichego ne skazhu!" the man spat furiously, struggling further against his bonds.

Roy cocked an eyebrow- he was definitely speaking Drachman.

"Do you speak any Amestrian at all?"

"Filthy amestrian dog!" the man cried, trying to kick out at Roy but failing.

Roy stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's eye. The man's head snapped to the side, before he was glaring at Roy again, panting from his frantic struggles and looking at him with animosity.

"Now we're getting somewhere." Roy smirked, tilting the man's head back.

"Who sent you?"

"I tell you nothing, dog!" the man was back to snarling and struggling against his bonds.

Roy backhanded the man.

"What do you want with the Fullmetal Alchemist!?"

The man was still when he mentioned Edward, and his eyes widened a fraction.

"Ah, so you do know something then. Your mission- what does it have to do with the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"I... I tell nothing!" the man said simply.

"Alright. So you don't want to talk about the mission. Do you know who I am?"

"Amestrian Dog." the man spat.

Roy pulled his gloves from his pocket and slid one on. He watched as the man saw the array on the back of his gloves- how the man's eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flaring as his pulse quickened, and Roy knew the man recognized it now. He smirked.

"I'll ask once again- do you know who I am?"

The man hesitated for a split second. "Flame."

Roy nodded cheerily, pulling on his other glove. "Yes. I am the Flame Alchemist. Commanding officer of the Fullmetal Alchemist. Who are you?"

The man shook his head. "I tell nothing."

"His name is Alessi, Roy." Vanessa spoke up.

Roy looked up from his interrogation, realizing he wasn't alone in the room with the man.

"Right. Alessi. Well, ladies, I'm going to have to ask that you give me some time alone to converse with my dear friend Alessi."

"Of course, Roy." Vanessa batted her eyes at him and headed for the door, the other three girls and his aunt filing out behind them.

The Drachman looked up from his chair, pupils dilating in fear as he realized he was going to be alone with Roy. He swallowed. The heavy oak door fell closed behind them.

"How many other agents are there, Alessi?"

"We are many. You won't stop us!"

"Won't stop you from what? What is your mission here, Alessi?"

Alessi fell silent, glaring at Roy in defiance.

Roy smirked. "Have it your way, then."

He snapped his fingers.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

It was three hours later Roy delivered a very singed Drachman Operative to the Investigations branch. He knew Hughes would be staying late anyways, but still, his best friend looked slightly pissed at him.

"You didn't think to let me come with while you interrogated this guy?" he asked, looking miffed.

"He wouldn't talk much anyways, Hughes. Doesn't speak much Amestrian. He only reacted to the basics- his mission has something to do with Fullmetal and Banks. There's more than one operative. That's all we had before."

"We have linguistics in investigations. I could've gotten a translator in, tried to cut a deal." Hughes said, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Who's to say you can't do that tomorrow?"

Hughes sighed, looking up at him tiredly. "You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

Roy shrugged, grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the other side of Hughe's desk, looking at the evidence bags carefully. "So- what do you have?"

He was caught off guard when His friend reached over and plucked a hair from his head with tweezers.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. I need a sample. Ah, it's what I thought." Hughes smirked, inspecting the hair under a magnifying glass beneath his desk lamp. "Your hair is the same color, but far too straight. And too short"

"Too straight for what?"

"I found a black hair in Ed's room, on the floor. It was curly- yours is too straight. I managed to interview Ed earlier- he said the man who grabbed him had long curly black hair and silver eyes. And his blood type is B-. We're building quite the profile here. I'm hoping with a translator present we can get Alessi to at least rat on one of his buddies."

"Good luck with that." Roy said simply, flexing his hand. He'd jammed one of his fingers punching the man in the face.

Hughes frowned. "Ed mentioned something about not wanting to sleep at the hospital."

"I know that. He fought me tooth and nail too."

"I heard him talking to Alphonse when I stepped out to get coffee. He said he has a hard time sleeping with you're not there."

"He has Armstrong on protection detail tonight. He'll be safe."

"You and I both know that's not what he meant. He thinks of you as a father. He feels safe when you're nearby. You're really going to brush that off for an investigation?"

"You think I'm neglecting him!?" Roy snapped. "You think I'm neglecting the boy I put my career on the line for to bring into the military? You think I'm neglecting the kid I went to bat for in court? You think I'm neglecting him because I haven't had any proper sleep in days because I'm trying to keep him safe from all the people who want him dead!?" Roy slammed both hands on the table and stood, eyes smouldering.

"Whoah. Let's take a step back for a minute." Hughes held both hands up, trying to placate him. "I just... that's not what I meant." Hughes frowned. "I just... I just meant that it's really special that Ed feels safe around you. And that he thinks of you as a father. That's all I meant. I'm sorry if it came out any other way. Sometimes I forget- Ed isn't like Elicia. He's military."

"Yeah, he is." Roy ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily as he sat down. "So he's gonna have to sleep alone in the hospital tonight. I know he'd rather have me stay there, but he's safe with Armstrong, and the sooner I solve the Drachman problem, the sooner he's safe. Once he's out of the line of fire I can spend more time with him. I can probably get a few hours of shut eye in my office on the couch..."

"You're not going home?" Hughes asked, looking surprised.

"What's the point? It's pretty empty without the boys there."

"Whoa." Hughes looked blown away.

"What?" Roy cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

Hughes took off his glasses and started to clean them with his handkerchief, breaking ino a grin. "Nothing- I just... never heard you sound so much like a dad before. It's.. different. But it's good. I'm glad for you." Hughe's glasses reflected the light for a moment as he slid them back onto his face, giving him a wane smile.

"But this case isn't going to blow wide open over night. Go home and get some sleep- I'll call you as soon as I get a translator in to speak to Alessi."

"What if I missed something?" Roy eyed the investigation files.

"If you missed it then I'll find it. I've gotten more sleep than you have over these past few days- goodnight, Roy."

Roy sighed, standing and heading for the door. "Goodnight."

Do you appreciate these fics? If so, I’d super appreciate if you can follow me here https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12 .

[tres-spades-hotel]

I am not sure you are taking requests or not, but I got this idea and I really wished you could write something for it, 'about Eisuke falling in love with his secretary and make it a bit dramatic'. I know it may be a lot to ask but all your written works have been so beautiful, I just had to ask you. No problem if you couldn't do it :).

Hi there! I’m so glad you sent a request! Yes my requests are open, I only just realised that I haven’t put it anywhere on my blog that they are open... oops! Anyway, I’ve never written a secretary story before so this was definitely a challenge, thanks to @flatsuke and @leoamber66 for helping me find a solid plot to use. And thanks to @lin-ful for just being amazing! This story is 8000+ words so that’s why it took some time to get this to you. I hope this is what you wanted, if not I hope you at least appreciate the time and effort I took to writing this. Enjoy!

Keep Me By Your Side

They say patience is a fool’s game. Waiting for love will weigh your heart down heavily like an anchor in the ocean. But saying ‘I love you’ to Eisuke Ichinomiya will get you nowhere fast. What does he know about love? Kindness? Happiness?

He was young when he was made CEO of the Ichinomiya Group. He was even younger when he lost his mother to the scythe of death, when he lost his sister to a different, better, whole, and lovable family. When he lost his father to the mist of uncertainty. What could a man filled with emptiness from a traumatic childhood, know about love?

He’s arrogant but he’s suave. A businessman through and through. Ruthless and cunning. Intelligent and sarcastic. Sweet-toothed with hidden compassion. A passionate hater of peas. A wonderful smile when he is genuine. And believe me, I have only ever seen this smile once in my whole career.

He never gets drunk and he spends more time at his auctions than with women. No woman other than me has stayed longer than a night at his penthouse. No other woman knows that Eisuke prefers warm weather to cold. No other woman knows how he likes his coffee: sweet using three sugar cubes and milk. I still remember the first time I made him coffee.

‘It’s adequate.’

‘Really?!’

‘Do it again. It needs more milk.’

‘Okay!’

I remember when he told me about his life. I remember his touch when he wiped away dewy tears. Telling me that it was a long time ago. That he just wants the truth. Closure.

That’s why, as his secretary, I have to be there for him. Because Mr Ichinomiya, founder, and owner of the Tres Spades Hotels around the globe, the mastermind behind the black market auctions and my boss, has brought me down to my knees…

In love.

I am in love with Eisuke Ichinomiya.

I want to shout it out to the world.

Scream it at the top of my lungs as if his name is my breath.

But I can’t.

Because I am only his secretary.

*

‘Here’s your schedule for today. After lunch, you have a meeting with a potential investor for the new Tres Spades Restaurants. He wants to propose different menus and VIP arrangements plus staff requirements for the restaurant in Sydney, Australia.’ I hand Eisuke his tablet and a folder filled with paperwork.

‘Hm. And the auctions?’

‘All set. Baba is still looking for the specific item that you requested but we have plenty of other materials to sell tonight. Soryu has sent the invitations and Mamoru will get back to you about the increasing police activity here lately. And Ota… well he’s being Ota.’

‘Pfft, of course he is.’ Eisuke looks up at me.

‘And Luke?’

‘He nearly fondled my collarbones… again. But he is ready to proceed with the surgery this week.’

Eisuke narrows his eyes at me.

‘Tell Luke to come see me before then. And you know better than to visit Luke immediately after a surgery.’

I rub the back of my head nervously.

‘Well, you told me to see him right away so… I was just following orders.’ Eisuke sighs in response.

‘Oh! And Luke told me to tell you that he needs another x-ray of your collarbones.’

‘Why? I already gave him one a few months ago.’ The annoyance is written all over his features.

‘Because he left it in the other clinic in New York. Luke doesn’t have an x-ray here in Tokyo.’

He unconsciously pouts at his laptop screen.

‘Isn’t one enough?’

‘Apparently not…’ It takes everything in me not to stroke his head to comfort him.

‘What about your collarbones?’

‘When we got back, while you were still in London, Luke did a medical examination on me so he got an x-ray of mine.’

‘Remind me to ban him from using the x-ray machine.’ I reply with a giggle instead of words.

‘Vivian.’ He says with urgency.

I salute military style.

‘Yes sir!’

‘… You would make a clumsy soldier.’

‘Hey!’

‘If there’s nothing else, get me coffee and leave.’

I bow and attend to my duties. After giving Eisuke his coffee, I head down to the lobby to find Mr Kenzaki. The lobby is busy as always with staff running around attending to the whims of the guests. New guests checking in and old guests leaving satisfied by their stay. The Tres Spades never disappoints.

I spot Mr Kenzaki by the reception. I catch his eye and he walks towards me by the penthouse elevator.

‘Ah Vivian, is there something you need?’

‘Yes, the Boss will need the conference room after lunch. We will need it for a few hours.’

‘Of course, I will have it set up. Do you need the projector?’

I think for a moment.

‘I’m not entirely sure but set it up anyway. Better to have it on and not use it, than need it when it’s off.’

He smiles warmly at me.

‘I understand. I am glad to see that you have become a capable and worthy secretary to Mr Ichinomiya.’ I blush at his teasing words.

‘Thank you. But we both know that Boss would choose you over me any day of the week.’

‘Haha, I’m not quite sure he is that attached.’ I highly doubt that actually, but I don’t tell him that.

‘The guest is Mr Lance and he will be arriving in a few hours. Make sure the lobby is prepared. Boss and I will come down to greet him.’

‘Very well. Make sure to take breaks every now and again Vivian.’

‘Yes, I will.’ Mr Kenzaki has always been obedient and thoughtful. I admire his dedication to Eisuke and the others plus he was a huge help to me when I first started working at the Tres Spades. He’s almost like an uncle or a grandfather (I’m sorry Mr Kenzaki! I promise you’re still young!) to me and the others.

I return to the elevator, swipe my key card, press no. 51 and watch the metal doors close. Turning around, I watch the outside world grow smaller and smaller as the elevator pulls up. There was a time when I was bewildered by the sheer size of this hotel. Over 50 floors of suites and boutiques and shops and the auctions all bundled into one.

Funnily enough, I worked with Eisuke’s adopted father, Akira Ichinomiya before I came to work for Eisuke. Akira took me in when I was first starting out in business and he taught me the ropes. He introduced me to Eisuke a little after Akira retired and, although he retired, he still worked within the Ichinomiya Group to make things a little easier for Eisuke. We met a few times over the years before Akira decided to send me to Japan to work for Eisuke as his secretary instead. I was more than miffed to hear of his decision without consulting me, especially since we had gotten so close with each other. I lost my grandfather when I was young so Akira ended up filling in that void.

Akira assured me that Eisuke would teach me more about how the Ichinomiya Group runs and I couldn’t say more. With my salary increased and bags packed, I got into the private jet and waited to see my new boss.

Looking back, I think I put up a bit too much of a fuss because Eisuke became a wonderful teacher, and a great friend. He listened to me and my problems even though he never needed to.

‘I have to make sure that my employees are at their best. Physically and mentally. Hearing your small problems is nothing to the value you are as my secretary.’

His words back then bring a whole new meaning to me now. I hope he means them in the way that I think they mean. That he cares about me.

A vibration courses through me as my pager goes off. I pluck it out of my belt and answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘Vivian! Where are you? Come to the penthouse! I have something to show you!’ Baba’s excited voice reminds me of a child but I wait to see what he has in store.

*

‘Ta da!’ Baba’s jazz hands do nothing to appease the sight.

A large statue of Venus towers over us all as we gape at it.

‘How did you get it in here?’ I ask, bewildered.

‘That’s a secret.’

‘Did you break it in half?’ Ota asks next.

‘No! This is priceless!’

‘Then how did you bring it into the lounge?’ Soryu says.

‘That is also a secret!’

‘He used the helicopter and the window.’ Mamoru mumbles from the couch.

‘Oooooohhhhhh’ Ota and I say at the same time. Baba pouts in response.

‘Mamo! Don’t go giving away my secrets!’

‘That’s not my job. That’s Ayase‘s job.’

‘This isn’t what I asked for Baba.’ Eisuke glares at him after inspecting the statue.

‘Ah yes, well. The item belongs to a Mr Jason Taylor Lance. I believe his father is coming to the hotel today.’

‘He is.’ I say.

‘Fine, I’ll get it from him instead.’

‘What is this thing you’re looking for anyway Eisuke?’ Ota asks.

‘It’s a collection of gems found at a temple in Egypt. Rumours of the gems suggest that a whole manner of good things will happen to those who possess them. I figured they would go for a very high price at the auctions.’ Eisuke smirks.

‘They were unearthed a few years ago and have found their way to Japan.’ Eisuke explains. Baba sighs.

‘Well I need more time to find the exact location.’

‘Fine.’

‘Ota can you appraise the statue for me?’

‘Okay.’ He goes back to his room while I prepare coffee and tea. When he comes back, he puts on white rubber gloves and uses a magnifying glass around the statue. I check my emails, replying to some and deleting others when Ota quips:

‘It’s fake.’

‘WHAT! Are you sure!?’

‘Yeah. It was created with cheap materials. An amateur’s work.’ He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone that I don’t comprehend it for a moment.

‘You would never know just looking at it.’

‘Yeah but if you sell it then the person buying it would most likely be an art collector and they appraise everything.’ He sits down and takes out his phone.

‘Unlucky Baba. Just like your sex life.’

‘Hey!’

‘Baba take that thing out.’ Eisuke orders.

‘Alright, alright. Sor help me out.’

‘Why me?’ Soryu and Baba heave the statue out of the penthouse.

*

Eisuke and I have lunch and then we venture out to the lobby. Just as we exit the elevator, Mr Lance enters the hotel. He is a big man wearing a white suit and a silver chain around his neck. His bald head shines in the glow of the lights and I can hear his shoes squeak against the marbled floor. He spots us and smiles.

‘Mr Lance, I am glad you could make it.’ Eisuke plasters on his signature business smile, holds his hand out for a shake and I bow from beside him.

‘Eisuke, please call me Connor. If we are going to be business partners, we should at least start with first names.’ He wraps both Eisuke and I in a bear hug and I nearly gag from the heavy cologne smell. Mr Lance is overly-friendly and I can already tell that this meeting is going to be a long one.

When he lets us go, Eisuke straightens his suit.

‘Please follow me to the conference room.’ Eisuke walks away while I turn to Mr Lance.

‘Shall I carry your briefcase for you, sir?’ I ask politely.

‘Of course, please.’ He looks at me for a moment. During my time as Eisuke’s secretary, I have met many individuals who have looked at me in inappropriate ways but Eisuke is always there to make it clear my place by his side. Still, I always stand my ground. Even now, as Mr Lance studies my face when he suddenly gestures to the case on the floor and follows Eisuke.

I’m not sure what that look was on his face but something tells me that this meeting will twist horribly.

*

‘Of course the staff will be perfect in their presentation but I believe that…’

Mr Lance, despite his ‘we-should-use-first-names’ greeting, is actually quite the businessman. He and Eisuke have been discussing the chain of Tres Spade restaurants and how to profit the most without hindering their guest’s experience.

‘The Tres Spades always delivers in high quality standards. Our guests and what they desire are our top priority.’

‘I have no doubt. Reviews of your hotels are 100% which I completely agree with. But if we could…’

Although, they are at a stale-mate right now. Neither is willing to backdown which is making me nervous. Mr Lance is more insistent on getting his way and so is Eisuke.

‘Sir?’ I finally pipe up from my corner in the room.

‘Hm?’ Eisuke looks at me.

‘May I suggest something?’

‘I hope you do not mind.’ Eisuke says to the man opposite him.

‘Please, a second opinion is always valuable.’ Mr Lance says, nodding in my direction.

‘Well, I suggest that the guests are given a form to personally write down any changes they want or need to the menus. This way, waiters will be more efficient obtaining orders and will limit any commotion that may arise.’

‘Paper forms will get lost or damaged very quickly in a kitchen.’ Eisuke says.

‘Hm, electronic tablets? With the entire menu and a writing stylus or Bluetooth keyboard to use.’

‘The keyboard would be too bulky on a table for guests.’

‘Why not use both? Paper and technology alike. Reservations will need specifications on which apparition the guests would like to use. Spontaneous guests first arriving will be asked immediately before seating if they require the keyboard or stylus.’ Mr Lance suggests.

‘That would be agreeable for me.’ Eisuke says.

‘I also.’ Mr Lance responds.

I breath a quiet sigh of relief. Mr Lance looks at me again before turning to Eisuke.

‘Before I sign this contract, I would like to add something to this.’

‘Such as?’

‘You see, I have a son, who I assume is the same age as your secretary?’

I glance at Eisuke briefly before saying hesitantly, ‘I am 28 years old, sir.’

‘Ah perfect! I have a son who could use a woman like you by his side.’ At those words, both Eisuke and I look at each other. He glares at Mr Lance who does not seem to notice.

‘You are an impeccable woman. In just a few hours, I have seen your beauty, your perfect manners and now your incredible intelligence as a woman working in the business sector of society. I believe you would be a wonderful wife to my son and an even better daughter-in-law to my wife and I.’

‘What are you suggesting, Mr Lance?’ Eisuke could be a snake he spat out those words so viciously.

Mr Lance does not break eye contact with Eisuke. Actually, it seems as if he is not intimidated at all by Eisuke, which, despite his words, is impressive.

‘I will sign this contract. Only if your secretary agrees to marry my son.’

‘That is outrageous, as if I would agree to such a thing.’

‘I am not asking you, Mr Ichinomiya. I am asking her.’

There is so much tension in the air that I can see it. Literally. So if I don’t agree, Mr Lance will walk out of the project. But if I do… While there are other investors, Mr Lance has a large influence on the economy, just as much as Eisuke does. He’s too important to deny.

Maybe I should convince him to sign without the marriage?

‘If I may, Mr Lance, I am hardly worthy of being part of your family. I have no wealth which you would consider rich, neither do I have many connections or the reputation to be married into your family. The public and the media would, quite frankly, have a field day about this marriage which could result in backlash on your family and mine. Please, reconsider this.’ I think half way through, my reasoning became a plea.

‘My secretary has never met your son and neither have I. She has worked for me and my company for years. Her well-being is my responsibility.’

Mr Lance thinks over our arguments calmly, as if he has done this a hundred times to other employers and their employees.

‘Very well. Why don’t I have my son stay at the hotel for a week? They can get to know each other and when she agrees to the marriage, then I will sign the contract. Until then,’ he pushes the folder away, ‘I will not sign. This is final.’

He gets up, leaving his business card, and walks out whistling to himself.

*   (EISUKE’S POV)                                  

‘That bastard really believes that he can have whatever he wants just because I need him to invest in the project.’

‘Did he really ask you for Vivian’s hand in marriage?’

‘To his son?’

‘…..’ I don’t answer, I only glare at Baba and Ota who hide behind Vivian and Soryu.

Mr Lance has attempted something that I have never seen in my whole career. A marriage proposal during a business deal? Mixing his personal life with his work is extremely amateur for a man who has been in business for over 30 years.

‘That man’s head must have a few screws loose.’ Mamoru says in an exasperated tone.

‘So what did you say Vivian?’ Ota asks.

‘Well, I tried to tell him that I wouldn’t be a good match for his family but he wouldn’t listen to us. His son is going to be staying in the hotel and I have to attend to him.’ She says, clutching her tablet to her chest.

‘Eisuke, what is he planning?’ Soryu is right to be suspicious. Even I believe that there is something amiss here.

‘Soryu, Mamoru, find out everything you can about this man and the Lancer’s Group.’

‘Lancer’s Group?’

‘Mr Lance’s last name turned into-‘

‘A joke.’ Mamoru finishes her sentence. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Criminal records, illegal activity, anything. Baba see if you can find something in their estates. I want to know what they have in their possession.’

‘Uh, okay Boss…’

‘Ota I want to know what the public think about the Lance family.’

‘Sure.’

I get up from the couch and head to the stairs leading to my penthouse suite.

‘Eisuke, what about the auctions tonight?’

‘The IVC and the auctions will continue as usual. Vivian, coffee.’ I say before turning around and ascending the stairs. I hear Vivian’s high heels against the floor as she rushes to me.

As soon as I get inside, I sit at my office desk and begin researching. If the Lancer Group is as influential as the Ichinomiya Group, they will have more than a few skeletons in their closets. The smell of coffee fills the room as she makes my daily beverage. For a second, I suddenly imagine Vivian making coffee for someone else. Mr Jason Taylor Lance. With his hands on her hips and his lips at her neck, attempting to distract her from leaving. It disgusts me that another man besides me would have Vivian by his side.

I feel myself get up from my chair and wander to Vivian quickly. She pours milk and three sugar cubes into the mug. Her waist feels small in my hands. The hair on her head smells like argan oil. Vivian is actually a small woman, her head is just below my shoulders with high heels on. Her long dark hair is straight with a braided crown around the back of her head. She wears a black suit and a purple blouse plus I notice the thin platinum band around her right ring finger that I gave her when we first met.

I hear her gasp at my touch and she turns around in my arms. Her eyes are wide open with her eyebrows raised.

‘Eisuke?’

Eisuke. She usually says my name when we’re alone. When she’s in work mode, she calls me Boss, like Baba unfortunately, but I still remember how casually she said it the first time.

‘Eisuke, you’ve been working for hours. Take a break for a few minutes, please? What will I do if you faint from exhaustion?’

My hands cup her chubby face. Her trembling fingers hold onto my hands. The only man I see reflecting in her eyes, is me.

I can’t imagine being without Vivian.

Wait. What am I thinking? Or rather what am I doing?!

I let go of her face and turn to leave the room. Her short arms suddenly wrap around my waist as she desperately holds on.

‘Eisuke, I don’t want to leave you.’ Her whisper is enough for me.

But why do I care so much for her? Have I become attached to this woman? This woman who Akira introduced to me? The same shy, bubbly personality who has stuck by my side for more years than I can count? No one has survived as my secretary or assistant ever but Vivian has held on.

What am I feeling inside? This warmth in my chest?

*

The next day, we prepare for Mr Lance’s son’s appearance at the hotel. Jason Taylor is a famous model and fashion designer who is also known for his… drunk antics.

‘Soryu, make sure your men keep an eye on Taylor and Vivian while they are together. If he dares to make a move on her, I want them to intercept immediately.’

Soryu, sitting in the chair opposite my desk, rubs his head and sighs with exasperation.

‘Eisuke, my men are mobsters, not bodyguards.’

‘Soryu.’

‘I know, I know. I care about her too you know, we all do. She’s the only woman willing to stick by you and your peculiarities.’

‘….’

‘My men will watch out for her and will keep me and you updated on their activities.’

‘Good. Have you found anything incriminating?’

‘There is something. Apparently, the Lance’s have a secret operation in Brazil. It might be money laundering.’

‘Hm, have your men take it. If it is money laundering, the evidence will move the scales in my favour.’ We share a knowing look when Baba’s loud voice booms outside the office door.

‘Boss! He’s here! Come on out!’ I sigh and stand up.

‘Looks like His Highness is in your territory.’

‘We’ll see how long he can stay on his pedestal.’

Vivian meets us in the penthouse lounge. I gave her the morning off to mentally prepare herself for the work that she will have to do. She wears a different outfit that she wears for work which makes me feel better inside.

‘Hey Vivian, why are you wearing that?’ Ota asks. She looks down at her suit then to me.

‘Because I’m still working.’

‘But he’s going to be your fiancé, shouldn’t you greet him looking a little sexier or something appealing?’

‘If you’re so desperate for a fiancée, why don’t you go greet him?’ I spit out at Ota who frowns at me.

‘Baba, Eisuke’s being mean!’

‘You kind of deserved it Ota.’ Baba says.

‘Damn I’m tired. Can we get going now?’ Mamoru yawns.

‘Slacker.’ I hear Soryu mutter under his breath.

‘What you say!?’

‘That’s enough. Vivian.’ I turn to leave and hear Vivian follow. The others grumble along to see who has made an enemy out of me.

*

Just as the elevator doors open, we hear loud noises and women screaming. In the centre of all attention is JT Lance, a known critic, womaniser, drunkard and an exceptional model and designer. He was already at the top when he was born, but we’ll see how far down to the bottom he falls when I’m done with him.

He seems to be signing autographs on paper and magazines and on women’s bodies as well. Arms, hands, necks, chest, he’ll put his name anywhere. A typical celebrity. He wears a golden chain similar to his father and an open shirt revealing his body.

The lobby quietens down as I step out.

‘Oh, it’s the King!’

‘The King?’

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya?!’

The staff try to handle the guests as much as they can while I stride over to the man receiving his room key.

‘Mr Jason Taylor? It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ I smile at him and shake his hand.

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya, the pleasure is all mine! My dad says good things about you.’

‘Does he now?’ I highly doubt that considering our last encounter.

‘It’s a bit too crowded here to talk. Please follow me to the VIP lounge.’

‘Lead the way.’

In the lounge, JT sits making small talk with Ota and Baba while a female staff member serves drinks. I see her blush as JT winks at her from his spot on the couch.

‘Do you have any tips on how to attract women?’

‘Baba has trouble keeping a woman’s attention for more than a second.’ Ota quips.

‘Haha, the first thing a woman sees in a man is his fashion sense. And yours… is a little less than average.’

‘What?!’

‘You look a tomato with a head, hands and feet. You need to look more manly and dignified.’ He waves his arms around, looking a buffoon. Baba frowns, lost in thoughts.

‘I assume you wear that red… thing daily. Red is a passionate colour and bold to be worn in broad day light. But too much passion turns women off quicker than a light switch. A man should wear blues or purples, like Ota and Eisuke or that scary looking man over there.’ He points to Soryu whose face doesn’t change or move in the slightest.

‘… Um, even that man over there in the grey suit is more manly than you.’ He indicates at Mamoru who smokes at the window.

‘Hmmm, so I need to change my suit? But I love this suit…’ Baba mumbles to himself helplessly as Ota falls over laughing.

I feel Vivian fidget beside me as she gleans the man attempting to take her away from me. JT changes his focus to Vivian.

‘So, this woman is the secretary my dad told me about? What is your name? You are  certainly a beautiful gem among the dirt. Have you tried modelling? I’m sure my designs would look stunning on you.’ His insult generates a glare but, like his father, he does not notice.

‘My name is Vivian Grier and I am certain that I am just an average looking woman, sir.’

‘Oh please, you would look divine! And call me JT, it would be plain weird if my future wife calls me so formally.’ I feel my eye twitch at his casual words.

‘She is not your wife yet.’

‘That will be her decision, will it not?’

The tension increases with each passing moment as we size each other up. But Vivian cuts it like a sword slashing in the air.

‘Um, JT why don’t I show you around the hotel? Then you can relax in your suite. I still have work to do unfortunately but we can have dinner tonight in the restaurant if you would like.’ Her suggestion does nothing to quell the fiery rage that is slowly growing inside me.

His smile sickens me to my core.

‘I would be delighted to have that. Ota why don’t you come as well, we can discuss some new designs I’ve created.’

‘Sure. Don’t worry, the old man beside me won’t be coming along.’

‘Hey!’ Baba shouts out as usual. The four of them leave but not before Vivian pats my shoulder and says,

‘I’ll back in the penthouse in a bit, try not to exhaust yourself too much before I arrive.' She smirks and winks at me before rushing to the others.

*

‘You’re going to do what!?’ The words I didn’t want to hear leave Vivian’s mouth so simply that I shout at her in front of the others in the lounge. She flinches but continues.

‘JT is going to check out of the hotel tomorrow, and I will go with him. I’m going to agree to the marriage and stay with his family at their mansion.’

I can only glare at her, trying to dispel the unshakable resolve in her eyes. But she doesn’t look away nor does she back down.

‘Why?’

‘You and I both know that there is something not quite right here. They’re hiding a corpse underneath all that fame and money and I’m going to find out what.’

‘…..’

‘I know you have been investigating. I’m sure you’ll find the evidence we need but do it before the wedding. I…. One day, I want it to be you and me at the alter Eisuke. Truly.’

My eyes widen. Is she confessing to me? Now?

‘Soryu? Can I take Ryosuke and Samejima with me? For protection and friends to accompany me?’

‘Of course, they will protect with their lives Vivian.’ He takes his phone out and leaves to prepare his puppy and shark.

Vivian turns to me.

‘Eisuke, if I find anything then I will send it to you. And I promise I’ll come back. Come back to you.’

Vivian stands in front of me as the strong woman I know she is. She’s doing what needs to be done.

‘Money laundering.’

‘Huh?’

‘We have evidence that the Lance family is money laundering. Find me something related to it or something else I can use.’ I say. We look at each other for a moment then she smiles at me.

‘Okay.’

‘Good luck Vivian. We’ll be here if you need us.’ Baba pats her shoulder.

‘Don’t get yourself killed.’ Ota says from the couch.

‘Kid, don’t go doing anything stupid now.’ Mamoru puffs on his cigarette.

‘Thank you guys. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’ She smiles and bows to us before turning around.

‘And Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘On JT’s phone, I saw a message. It said… the body is ready to be disposed.’

‘A body?’

‘Mamoru get on this.’

‘Murder, huh?’

‘Well, he gives lousy advice on fashion anyway.’ Baba says.

‘He was right about your fashion sense though.’ Ota retorts.

‘Kid, send me that message as soon as you can.’

‘I’ll try.’ Vivian’s heels stride out of the lounge. Strong and confident, she leaves with my heart.

*

The engagement is called on TV. Mr Lance announces the engagement and we watch as Vivian and JT exchange rings.

‘Such a tacky ring.’ I mumble to myself.

‘Hey, what’s that silver ring on her other finger?’ Ota points to the monitor.

‘Boss, didn’t you give that to her a few years ago?’

‘Obviously. I have more class than he does in style.’ I smirk. So even on TV, she continues to belong to me.

‘Eisuke, Inui and Samejima have dropped Vivian off at the hotel. She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

‘Good.’ My fingers hover over the pager’s call button. It has been confirmed that the wedding will take place tomorrow. JT has booked the ballroom for a party and invited me to attend.

‘So they recorded this and sent it to the media everywhere huh?’ Ota asks.

‘Yes. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 2 weeks since Vivian left us.’

‘She hasn’t left us. As if Eisuke would let the kid go, not with her skills.’ Mamoru, who for once is not asleep, teases me.

‘You’re not snoozing, has the station finally fired you?’ Soryu retorts.

‘Stop it. You all are too noisy.’ I order before Mamoru can fight back.

‘How are the preparations for JT’s party tonight?’

‘Going as well as I can hope. I’ve called the media here to capture JT’s antics on screen.’

‘Seriously? Does he know?’

‘Even if he does he’s not shy to the camera. Everyone knows his drunk habits. I’ve ordered for security to be ready to take action against him if he tries something.’

‘Ota, Mamoru and I will be there as well so you can count on us Boss!’ Baba says with as much enthusiasm as a balloon.

‘Why do I have to be there?!’

‘Because the alcohol is for free. I won’t have to buy you any tonight.’

‘Fine. I guess I’ll go.’ Mamoru grumbles to himself by the window.

‘Hook, line, and sinker. Point 1 to Baba.’ He tips his ridiculous hat and winks at Mamoru who pretends to gag on his cigarette.

‘Sir?’ Kenzaki enters the lounge with the woman I’ve been expecting to see since she left.

‘Miss Vivian has returned.’ His smile tells me that he has been missing Vivian as much as the rest of us.

‘Hey everyo-‘

‘VIVIAN!’

‘THANK GOD!’

‘GET US COFFEE PLEASE!’

Vivian jumps behind Kenzaki as the three men throw themselves at her. It is true that we’ve been miserable without her coffee. We have been living off of room service and Soryu’s tea.

‘I can’t believe you guys really missed me that much. I was gone for 2 weeks!’ She hands out the mugs and I sniff the coffee. It smells wonderful and for once, everyone is quiet in the lounge.

‘Would you like some Mr Kenzaki?’ Vivian asks.

‘No thank you, you can make me some another time. I have some work to do so I will leave you to it.’ He strokes her head like a father and leaves.

‘Vivian, upstairs.’ Still holding my mug and picking up Vivian’s bag, I climb the stairs with her in tow.

We sit beside each other when she looks up and smiles before taking out her tablet.

‘Even though I’ve been away, I’m still your secretary Eisuke. I’ve responded to all your emails and contacted everyone involved with the project. Mr Lance is going to sign the contract tomorrow after the wedding and-‘

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

‘Hm, what?’

‘Did he do anything to you?’

‘No, not really. Despite the engagement, he hasn’t touched me. I thought he was seeing other women since he keeps going in and out of the mansion but I think it’s something else.’

‘Yes, the coordinates Soryu’s puppy sent is an office. It’s filled with counterfeit money.’ Vivian, Inui and Samejima were able to gain the site of Mr Lance’s operations from JT’s car’s automatic navigation system. The Ice Dragons stormed the place with Soryu and found over $200 million in cash.

‘What do you think it’s for?’

‘It could for a number of things Vivian. People have a way of finding things to buy when they millions to spare. Be it an object or a person.’

‘Did Mamoru find out about… the body?’

‘We’re still looking into it, but I have a hunch.’

‘Which is?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘No fair!’ Vivian pouts at me and I pinch her cheeks.

‘Oww!’ She says it in a more playful tone, letting me know that she’s happy.

‘You’ve gotten thinner since you left.’

‘I guess I was lonely without you Eisuke.’ She takes my hands and wraps my arms around her.

‘I missed you, so much.’ She hugs me tight, listening to my rapid heartbeat.

‘How have you been Eisuke?’

‘Fine. It’s not as if I need you by my side all the time.’ Who am I kidding? Her giggles tell me that she doesn’t believe my lies either.

‘But you will always miss my coffee right?’ Her teasing words make me chuckle.

‘Your coffee has done wonders for me. Even if you didn’t stay as my secretary, I would have made you the penthouse maid.’

‘Haha, I’m sure you would have.’ She raises her head and looks up at me through her long lashes. When did she become so beautiful?

‘Eisuke…’ When did her voice become so enticing when she says my name? And what would she sound like at night, beneath me with her head thrown back in pure bliss?

But before my lips can touch her skin…

‘Boss! Are you ready?’

‘Damn it, that thief always has awful timing.’ I grumble as we untangle our limbs from each other.

‘Don’t worry Eisuke. I’ll still be here when you get back.’ She takes my face into her hands and leaves a kiss on my forehead.

‘You know I will always be here.’ We lean our heads against each other, savouring the feelings that we hold dear. I’ve never felt love for a woman before. It’s not a bad feeling though.

*   (VIVIAN’S POV)

I change into my casual clothing and go downstairs to find not only Soryu with Ryosuke and Samejima, but also Luke in the lounge. The TV has been set up for us to watch the party on mute.

‘Hey you guys.’ I sit on the couch next to Luke and see Eisuke, Ota, Baba, and Mamoru at the party, mostly drinking at the bar.

‘Hey princess.’ Ryosuke waves. Samejima and Soryu both give me a nod.

‘Hello Sexy Bones.’ I smile at Luke.

‘Why aren’t you down there Soryu?’ I ask.

‘Too many women.’

‘Oh I see.’ Soryu hates women with a passion. Eisuke was surprised when Soryu said he didn’t mind me being here. Apparently, I’m not the type of women he hates.

‘Where’s JT?’ I ask, trying to spot him on the monitors.

‘Over there, speaking to one of the politicians.’ Luke points to the far corner. For a while we wait and see what happens. Eisuke speaks to various celebrities, all with that sly smile on his face, while Mamoru drinks at the bar. Baba and Ota flirt with the other women at the party.

It all seems pretty calm when I see JT suddenly throw a glass of champagne at a wall.

‘Uh oh.’

‘What the!?’

‘He’s drunk.’ Luke observes.

JT seems to shouting at a staff member. One whom I know as my friend, Sakiko.

‘He’s going to hit her!’ I shout. JT’s large fist is balled up in the air, ready to hit its target when Eisuke grabs his arm and pins it back. He forces JT to the ground and Mamoru cuffs his wrists.

‘Oh thank god!’ I sigh with relief as Sakiko is attended to by the other staff members. Eisuke seems to be addressing the guests as Mamoru and security push JT off the premises.

‘The media will love this.’ I say.

‘Eisuke knew this would happen, that’s why he called them in the first place.’ Soryu says, turning his attention to clean his gun.

‘Mr Ichinomiya looked so cool! Just like you sir!’ Ryosuke says, looking at Soryu with admiration.

‘Indeed, Eisuke’s collarbones looked splendid.’ Luke smiles and Ryosuke gives me a look of bewilderment. I laugh despite the situation we just witnessed.

‘Eisuke did look really cool out there.’

‘Maybe you should make him the new Ice Dragon’s leader.’ Luke says.

‘No.’ Both Luke and I burst out laughing with Samejima trying to hide his smile and Ryosuke looking even more bewildered.

When Eisuke came back to the penthouse, I said good night to the others and followed him upstairs to his bedroom. I hugged him tightly as soon as we entered him room.

‘I saw on the monitors. Thank you for saving Sakiko.’ I nuzzle my face into his chest.

‘Hm.’ I feel the slight vibration course through his body.

‘Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘Seeing JT be so… violent… made me think. Do you think sacrificing my freedom, despite knowing his flaws, despite knowing that there is always the possibility that he could become violent with me, that he could hurt me and cause me pain and trauma that I might never recover from, if marriage is about accepting the faults of the partner you love, should I accept his flaws no matter how abusive he could be?’

‘No. Because even the slightest possibility could destroy more than just your body, but your heart too. People like JT are not worth more than the dirt under our shoes.’

Suddenly, Eisuke dips down and hooks his arm under my knees.

‘Ah! Eisuke!’ Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, Eisuke throws me onto the bed and leans over me.

‘You’re still here though.’

‘I am.’

‘Are you going to leave?’ I look into his chocolate brown eyes. I can see my reflection in them so clearly. I feel my love for him bubbling up inside me.

‘Only if you force me to.’

‘Pfft, as if that would ever happen.’ His kiss is sweeter than any candy. It melts me at my core completely. That night, our hearts finally connect with one another. The moment that I have always wanted has been fulfilled. And before I pass out, I hear,

‘I promise, tomorrow, you will walk out as my woman. I will save you.’

*

Standing at the church doors, I breath in and out. Clutching a bouquet of hydrangeas, I think about last night. Eisuke promised that he would save me.

‘Go to the wedding tomorrow. I will be there and stop this madness.’

Akira comes up and turns me to face him.

‘Do not worry Vivian. Eisuke will give you a wedding surprise you won’t soon forget.’ His smile warms my heart. I asked him to come from London to walk me down the aisle. With my parents gone since I was a child, Akira is the closest thing I have to a father.

‘I know he will. I just hope he hurries up.’ I say. Akira holds out his elbow and my left hand gently clutches his suit. We hear the music begin and the large doors creak open.

With thousands of eyes on me, I look straight ahead just as Eisuke would. Ignore all the stares and look straight forward always no matter what. Cameras and flashes and whispers fill the room as I see JT smirk my way. The wedding dress wasn’t my choice. It was designed by JT and Ota together but it still isn’t the dress I imagined I would wear to my wedding. It’s a backless, pearl white lace dress with a ring of diamonds at my waist. My hair is in a loose bun and a thin hair band with small flowers rests atop my head. The dress trails at the back slightly and I feel it drag the fake flowers those sitting on the benches throw at us. In the corner of my eye, I see the bidders who wave at me. I smile inwardly, knowing that I’m in safe hands.

We finally make it to the priest and JT presses a light kiss to my hand. I gag inside as Akira leaves me to sit down.

The priest begins to speak the formalities and my mind drifts away. Eisuke said he would save me. So where is he? I’ve hoped for years that Eisuke would love me the way that I love him and now that I finally have it, we’ve become entangled in this mess.

‘If there is anyone who would object to this couple’s union, speak now or forever hold your peace.’

The doors behind us creak open once more. Everyone turns to see the silhouette of the man I love the most in this world.

‘I object.’

Eisuke walks forward as gasps and whispers fill the room. All cameras pointed at the King of Spades.

‘JT Lance has no business marrying her.’ He nods to the priest who takes out a remote and presses a button. A projector rises near the back of the church and a picture of a woman appears.

‘Oh that’s Miss Freya Opaline.’ Opaline was a great gem collector who mysteriously died when she tripped and fell into glass which pierced her heart.

‘Miss Opaline was not killed by what we believed was an accident.’ Eisuke’s strong voice echoes in the church.

‘JT and Opaline were both after the same set of gems that were unearthed in Egypt. Opaline got to them first so JT attempted to bribe her for them. When that didn’t work, he killed her and took the gems for himself.’ Moans and groans of the shocked public begin to rise.

‘The next few slides have secret messages between Mr Jason Taylor Lance and his associates who covered up the murder. Let’s also not forget about Mr Lance, who has been making counterfeit money for nearly a decade.’

‘Damn it.’ I hear JT whisper in defeat.

‘If there is anybody else who would like to object…’ As if on cue, Baba and Ota shout out.

‘I object!’ Everyone follows suit and I back away. Suddenly, Mamoru and the police walk in, arresting JT and Mr Lance. Before JT is taken away, I waltz up to him where he is handcuffed. I smile and throw the bouquet at his feet. The sound a slap resonates inside the building, rendering everyone silent. JT stares dumbfounded. Suddenly, I hear cheers for my performance and the police take JT away.

Eisuke comes up to me and I kiss him. I hear many screams and see white flashes behind my closed eyelids but I don’t care. He did it all and I helped him.

‘I love you Eisuke.’

‘I love you Vivian.’ He smiles genuinely and I fall in love again. We lean our foreheads together, knowing our love for each other is true.

*

‘It was nice of Mrs Lance to sign the contract on behalf of her ex-husband.’ I say.

‘Yes. Now that Miss Felicia is taking over, their business might finally have a chance of being good.’

‘But not as good as the Ichinomiya Group. Right?’ I laugh.

‘Obviously.’ Eisuke smirks at me when we hear a crack.

‘Okay, I think I got it.’ Ota says. The large statue of Venus stands before us once again… in pieces.

‘I guess you finally did something right for once Baba.’ Mamoru says.

‘Yeah! Wait what?!’

‘We were lucky that this was the statue that Miss Felicia was talking about. Who would have thought that Opaline and Felicia were such good childhood friends that Opaline gave the gems to her?’

The gems were never with Opaline to begin with. She sent them to JT’s mother as a way to rekindle their love for each other. Unfortunately, JT killed Opaline before she and Felicia could run away and start life anew. After her death, Felicia hid the gems inside the statue made by an amateur to prevent anyone from taking them.

‘The gems were the beginning of so much sorrow. Whatever stories there are, those gems hold nothing but pain.’

‘It’s a tragic love story but I think Felicia will be happy knowing that she has her own business to run and that her lover’s murderers are in prison.’

‘What I can’t believe is that Mr Lance wanted Vivian in order to blackmail you into selling the counterfeit money at the auctions.’

‘A stupid idea by a coward.’

‘Guys, I think I found it.’ Ota pulls out a golden box from the statue’s chest.

‘Is that it?’

‘Must be.’

‘Open it Eisuke!’

He takes the box and uses the key Felicia gave Eisuke. Inside is one gem, not multiple like the stories. A large diamond the size of a fist sparkles in the light.

‘Now this, will fetch a very good price.’ Eisuke smirks.

*

‘$20 million! $50 million! $100 million! Do I have any more bids?’

‘It’s going up.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘$150 million! $200 million!’

‘Wow.’

‘Honestly, these people are far too desperate for something good to happen to ‘em. As if a diamond can bring good fortune.’ Mamoru says.

‘$300 million! Any more!’

The diamond sits on a pedestal on top of a purple velvet cushion. I hug Eisuke’s arm and snuggle into his side as I feel him kiss the top of my head.

‘$500 million! Sold!’

[kat-hawke]

Preparations

(Following [Returning Home] & [Cover to Cover, for You and I])

The greater part of Kat's afternoon had been spent in the hidden basement level of her home, hunched over the workbench with various materials scattered around her. Things were both procured and stolen from Mechagon, Zandalar, and Kul Tiras. Most notably of which was the sack of powdered azerite with the Ashvane logo printed on the front. The second being the mechanical hand, half disassembled and modified to fit over her own like a gauntlet.

At a slow and deliberate pace, Kat repaired the leather bracers around her wrist. She was dragging the thread through powdered azerite as the mechanical hand stitched the tears together with inhuman precision. The old runic seals were systematically replaced, re-etched in the leather, and imbued with the azerite powdered before completion. While she worked, she could feel the subtle pulls of emotion from the dagger at her thigh; Alyssa was no doubt watching her soul and every reaction. Kat could feel her hunger for power each time she touched the azerite, and the fluxes in her soul with each prod of the bracers.

Dismissing the other woman's emotions, Kat pressed on. These preparations had to be completed. The bracers were not an option in her life anymore.

As she worked, memories of the dream-like state of her coma replayed, the final one in particular. 'We had a deal — I will get what is owed.' The voice of Erzis echoed over and over in her head as she questioned where the void-born being escaped to and what havoc it was causing. Kat refrained from going to the cave Erzis had been bound to since her return.

Sprinkling another pinch of powdered azerite into a new seal on the bracer, Kat's thoughts were interrupted by Alyssa's abrupt interjection.

"By the time this whole thing ends, I might be hooked on the stuff too.  Riley used it to fuel me."

Kat looked over at the bottles of liquid azerite as she paused her work. "Didn't just have her murder people?"

"Just one," Alyssa answers honestly, "and that was to test its effect on the piece of soul you left me."

"Well, probably for the better then. We don't need a bigger mess than what we already have." Pursing her lips as she returned to work, Kat moved a magnifying glass over the bracer to inspect the finer details for imperfections.

"Yeah, I'm trying to ease back my kill count," Alyssa's tone a bit sardonic. "I also hadn't met Riley before, didn't know anything about her or what I could ask...to save you though, she was game for anything it took."

A smile pulled across Kat's lips as she responded over the telepathic connection. "That doesn't surprise me. She and I are alike in a few ways, stubbornness and determination among them. Riley's had my back, and I've had hers for a while now. Come a long way from hardly trusting each other when we first met." Glancing off to the side, Kat looked to the damaged set of custom armor. "I guess, in a way, she'd been keeping me safe for years. Still feel bad about nearly bleeding out on her floor, though."

"Got the sense of that. She cares a lot. I'm glad I got to work with her. If anyone else were going to have the dagger, I'd trust it to be her."

"You'd have loved it if Sarah had found the dagger." Kat teased, realizing how accustomed she had become to having Alyssa's voice always around. She didn't linger on the thought, returning her focus to infusing the bracers.

"She'd have thrown me into the ocean first chance she got, I bet. Think she'd have been glad to no longer have me in the world."

"Sarah? Never." Kat's sarcasm was painfully obvious. "She might have used you as a prop in one of her shows. You could have been famous. If you ever made your presence known to her, that is."

"If she'd been the one to find the dagger, I would've," Alyssa replies after a pause of consideration. "I would've taken anyone I could get to try and save you."

"Mhm. Well, she should remain in her bubble of naivety."

"Agreed."

"The less she knows th—" Pain seared against the flesh and cut Kat's sentence short. A miscalculation resulted in the azerite burning through the leather, reaching the skin below.

"What's wrong?" Alyssa inquired in a flash of concern.

"Nothing," Kat grunted out as she removed the mechanical gauntlet from her hand to aptly strip the bracer from her wrist.

Alyssa's exasperation was palpable in the connection. "What caused you pain."

"I burned myself, it's fine."

"Your aura's been doing interesting things for the last while.  What are you working on?" Alyssa probed further.

"Fixing the bracers you broke," Kat stated, careful not to allow emotion into the thought as the leather was pulled from her wrist, the crudely carved and scarred over rune in her flesh exposed. Immediately she felt the effects of her waring soul threatening to become unstable. The unstable sensation was short-lived as Alyssa interfered, and Kat suddenly felt ill. Vision blurred, and the stomach churned, cold sweat began to collect on her brow.

"I don't remember breaking them. I remember that they broke." 

"I remember warning you they would break after you got all hocus pocus in there and damaged them the first time." Only a faint hint of spite touched her tone as a palm pressed against the workbench to keep her stable. "Whatever you just did, I am not enjoying it."

"I remember we might both be dead if I didn't.  It's not like I 'hocus pocus' for the fun of it." Alyssa promptly replies. "I imagine this isn't comfortable, but it will hold things until the bracer is in place again. Your soul really doesn't like to be...wrangled? Is that the word?"

"I don't care to be wrangled either. I've had hangovers more enjoyable than whatever this is." Curled knuckles lifted to Kat's lips, feeling as if she was going to vomit.

"You'll like this better than what it feels like if your soul rips itself in half, I bet."

"I can at least manage that, thank you." Kat spat back as she hastily and carelessly wrapped a single layer of bandage around the burn. With another disoriented sway, she had to grip the edge of the workbench, taking a deep breath to steady herself and fasten the bracer back on her wrist without hesitation.

Abruptly shifting the topic, Kat inquired, "Can you manage excess energy any better now?" 

"I don't expend much energy, nor take much in since then, so I don't know the answer,"  Alyssa replies honestly as her magic faded, and Kat's head cleared again.

That wasn't the answer Kat was hoping for. Turning to face the sack of powdered azerite, she pulled the dagger from its sheath as she stood. "Well, then. This is probably going to be unpleasant."

"What am I bracing for?" Alyssa asked in concern.

"Remember the Vale?" Kat looked down at the glowing engravings upon the dagger's blade. The pang of pain twisted her gut as she thought back to the time the blade went dormant.

"I used the most powerful Pandaren soul we had to restart your soul."

"That's unfortunate..." Kat trailed off. It was a minor detail, but no longer critical. "I meant the fight when I...thought I killed you."

"You're talking about the amount of energy that you used me to deflect?" Alyssa was seeking clarification, still concerned.

"Before that?" Suddenly Kat realized she was having trouble recalling the order of events as if the memory had been damaged. "You did something to cause a swell of energy, which I surged over the dagger."

"Oh..." Alyssa replies, she sounds more sheepish and less sure now. “I did something someone like me never should. I channeled the Light."

"Interesting," Kat says in that way, indicating she would revisit the subject at a later time. "You won't need to do that, I don't think, and I'd rather not experience that level of pain again, even if it was enjoyable." She quickly skips over that admittance. "It's the level of power in the attack I'd rather focus on."

"Okay...power I can do. The negative side effects on me had more to do with the Light's effects on me. I should be able to handle that level in magics I'm more comfortable with."

Kat pulled her lips inward as she looked from the dagger to the pile of powder, spinning the handle over in her hand for a downward plunge. "Just think of it as training." Without any real warning, the blade was buried in the azerite, and Kat took a step, arms crossing over her chest as she stared at the exposed handle.

She knew that any confrontation with Erzis would result in a fight, and she knew that in their current state, Alyssa would likely be a collateral casualty if the blade made contact with the lesser void lord. Kat could remember stabbing the faceless in the Vale, and the resulting destruction she was able to reap with the dagger. It was both the level of power and reassurance Alyssa could survive she wished to recreate.

Minutes passed as Kat chewed her lower lip, watching the teal glow of the engravings flicker with blue and gold hues. In Kul Tiras, they had coated their blades with the same powder; this would have the same result in theory. Once the azerite around the blade turned a pale gray, Kat yanked the dagger free.

"How do you feel?" She quickly asked.

"Dazed," Alyssa's voice was garbled, hard to make out. "Drunk."

Not precisely what Kat was expecting.

"On a scale of one to ten, how equal is this to the instance in the vale?"

"I'm conscious," Alyssa replies, still sounding a bit out of it. "Eight?"

"Can you expel any of the energy?" Kat watched as the flicker along the dagger engravings became less frantic.

"Out of the dagger?" Sounding foggy, Alyssa was trying to follow the question.

Kat rolled her eyes, patience wearing thin. "No. Into the nether..." 

Almost immediately after her sarcastic quip, the glow of the dagger suddenly swelled. Kat's eyes widened as strands of her hair lifted with the palpable energy in the air. Panicked, she turned around, making an effort swing the dagger towards the empty stone wall, but it was too late. The excess energy erupted from the dagger, scorching the wall and sending Kat tumbling to the floor in the opposite direction.

The sound of the dagger bouncing on the floor couldn't be heard over the ringing in Kat's ears. Dazed and disoriented, she slowly pushed herself back up, grunting as she held what was likely a bruised rib or two. Staggering her way across the basement, she scooped the dagger up off the floor.

"Okay," Kat grunted in pain, "not what I was planning."

"Sorry," Alyssa replies, "could barely hold it."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." Kat breathed out a faint sigh of relief upon hearing Alyssa's reply. "How do you feel?"

"Disoriented, confused. The last few minutes are a blur...I feel like I have a hangover." 

"That's better than dead." Kat attempted at humor as she approached the powdered azerite once more. "Ready to try again?"

"Are we in an open space?"

"Open enough." Kat looked over at the scorched wall.

"Hit me then. Tell me now what you want me to do with it, though."

"In the Vale I swept the energy over the dagger in a wide swing. The resulting wave cleaved everything within its path in half." Kat paused, speculating something. "Trying to recreate that, but something is different here."

"Maybe it wasn't the Light I was thinking of..." Alyssa attempted to recall the event. "This was when you gave me the azerite?"

"I wanted the power, and you were hesitant to give it. I remember panicking when you did, then the attack." Kat walks Alyssa through it. "I remember the pain, the amount of power, and I remember pushing it back over the blade."

"You were fighting the Faceless." 

"I was, yeah." 

Alyssa went quiet for a moment as Kat continued to stand over the powder. "Even if we figure this out, it won't matter anymore once I'm not in it."

Kat skips right over that comment, a thought she didn't want to entertain. Her paranoia and fear of betrayal kept her up at night as it was.

"The difference is that I pushed the energy over, or through, you. Because you passed it to me after I stabbed the faceless." She spoke as if having a revelation, looking down at the blade as it all suddenly made sense.

"I don't know if it was ours. I saw the city. It could have been an offering of power to tempt us." Alyssa paused a moment before moving on. "Let's try again then. I'll store the energy and siphon it into you."

Without a second thought, Kat buried the dagger into the powder a second time, letting go of the handle and taking a step back. Just as before, the teal glow within the engravings flickered with the subtle blue and golden hues of the azerite.

Watching with bated breath, Kat chewed on her thumbnail, mind racing as Alyssa's single comment effectively sent her paranoid thoughts into motion. The fear of abandonment ripping into her gut as she considered the possibility of a whole-again Alyssa walking out, or even turning the dagger against her. For a brief moment, she contemplated the option of using the trapped soul as payment for Erzis, to change the terms of their deal and cut off any plans of betrayal.

Shaking her head and returning to the present, Kat dismissed the dangerous lines of thought and reached out to pull the dagger from the now depleted azerite. "You okay?"

"Mmm..." Alyssa sounded more dazed than the first time, but she alive.

"Still better than dead." Stated simply before Kat siphoned energy from the dagger.

The sensation of which felt intoxicating. The swell of power and numbness to the brain as pure power flowed from her fingers and over the bracers, which fortunately held. She could feel Alyssa attempting to control the flow of energy, but Kat practically inhaled it all at an alarming rate. 

The pain of the overcharge was nothing new for Kat, but every time felt like the first. As if her skin would tear to shred and energy would pour from every wound. Eyes burned and felt as if they'd burst under pressure, the pained howl she screamed out always did little to mitigate the pain. If Alyssa had said something, she couldn't hear it. 

Kat lunged forward without hesitation, sweeping the dagger in a wide arc and forcing the excessive swell of energy back over the blade. Just as it had in the Vale in a line of pure power was sent out in a wave, cleaving several feet through the stone wall of the basement and the earth behind it.

A pleased hum was all Kat could manage as she went light-headed, swaying on her feet as she reached out to plant a hand on the wall for stability. Looking at the dagger, she was happy to see the glow still present. "You— You alright?"

"Mmm," Alyssa groaned again in response. "Hangover...but...yeah. Kind of not sure if it's actually better than being dead."

"With the former, I'm not alone." Kat doesn't elaborate as she leaned her back against the wall, eyes shut as her head felt swimmy. "That was better, not ideal, but better."

"It's draining...and I don't know if I could hold it long before we use it." Alyssa also sounded exasperated.

"We can probably skip the first part, go right...to..." Haphazardly Kat's sentence trails off as she slides down the wall to the floor, the dagger still in her hand as it goes limp in her lap, head falling to one side as she blacks out from overexertion.

[ @alyssa-ward​ ] [ Brief Mentions: @blue-eyedraven​, @tirasiantrouper​ ]

( [Chapter I] [Chapter II] [Chapter III] [Chapter IV] ) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V] [pt.VI] )

[seasonofthegeek]

Not All Prisons Have Bars: Witch

Written for @marichatmay 2020

Just something that came to me with all the virus stuff going around. Decided to try to work out some of my frustrations by writing a story in a different flavor of the same idea. This will be one of those where the details unfold more as the story goes on. :)

Part 1:

Marinette wasn’t sure why she’d been expecting a completely white room that screamed sterilization but the cozy suite she’d been led to looked more like it’d fit into any mid-level hotel and that surprised her. 

The bed was large and covered in a soft flower-patterned quilt. Lamps glowed around the room instead of a harsh overhead light, and she spied a a small private bathroom beside an empty closet. There was a decent television and a computer which was a nice bonus. The large heart monitor in the corner by an overstuffed armchair seemed a bit out of place, but otherwise, the room was nothing like she’d imagined. 

“Feel free to unpack and get comfortable. A nurse will be by to do a vitals check in an hour or so and then it will be time for dinner.” The orderly gave her a smile that seemed a little too professional to be genuine and then closed the door.

Marinette counted to ten in her head and then tried to turn the doorknob. The latch gave and the door opened slightly as she pulled. She let out a sigh of relief as it closed again and turned to give her new home a more thorough inspection. 

Her mind wandered as she made her way around the room. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she’d been locked in. Nothing, she supposed. She’d come here of her own free will, after all.

When she found out she was one of only three people discovered whose blood carried antibodies that could be used to fight the current virus ravaging the world, what choice did she really have but to agree to help? She’d never consider herself a hero, but she was a decent person, at least. She wanted to do what she could even if coming here had turned her life on its head. 

She squinted at the buttons on the heart monitor but besides the obvious ones, she was at a loss. She wondered if she’d have to wear something constantly since the big machine was in her room. 

There were times like this when Marinette thought she might wake up from a weird dream at any moment. It felt like one day, everything was as normal as it’d always been and then the next...

She shook her head. She didn’t like thinking about the virus but there would be no avoiding it now. She’d packed a bag and moved in right at the epicenter. She may as well try to accept her new normal.

___

Marinette tried her hardest not to fiddle with the heart monitor around her wrist as she sat at the dinner table in the mostly empty dining room. A woman sat on her left down a few chairs and a young boy sat directly across from her, studying her with curious eyes magnified by large glasses. 

“Are you here to beat the witch too?” he finally asked. The way he drawled out his words even in his rushed question had her wondering where in the world he was from. Somewhere in the United States, she would guess from the English. They were both far from home then. She was glad she at least understood him.

“The witch?”

He nodded seriously. “My best friend, Peter, well, his mom says there is the real mean witch out somewhere and she made all these black cats out of bad magic that ran all over the world to get people sick. And there are only a few people in the world who have magic blood that can make the cats better and beat the witch and I have magic blood so I’m going to beat the witch.” He warily glanced down the table at the other woman and lowered his voice. “So do you have magic blood too?”

Marinette wasn’t sure if it was cute or disturbing that someone had explained the pandemic to the child in such a way but he seemed happy about it and she  didn’t want to scare him.

“I think I might,” she said, dropping her volume to a conspiratorial whisper to match his. “It’s pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah! My room has the new PlayStation. I don’t even have one of those at home. My brother is going to be so jealous.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms smugly. He opened his mouth again but he was interrupted by an orderly dressed in crisp blue scrubs placing a plate in front of him. 

“Please make sure to eat everything on your plate. A clean plate is a happy plate and we like to see happy plates,” the woman said as she put the next plate in front of Marinette. 

The young boy scrunched his nose and poked at the steamed broccoli with his fork. “I’m not eating this.”

“Even if it makes your magic stronger?” Marinette asked, spearing a floret.

He frowned and followed her lead. “Being a hero is hard work.”

___

On the other side of the facility and three floors below what was thought to be the basement, Chat Noir paced the small cell he was in. His stomach was growling and his head ached so he knew dinner had to be coming soon. That was how he’d been trying to keep track of time. He was fed breakfast and dinner. Lunch was always a fun combination of being mostly drained of blood and filled with some new mixture of chemicals that usually left him jittery or sleepy or both. 

His black ears perked at the sound of the hallway door being opened and he obediently went to sit on his bed with his hands spread out in front of him as he’d done ever since he realized it was expected. His fluffy black tail lashed back and forth against the blanket but he rarely could control what the thing did anyway. 

The vision bar slid open and Chat Noir saw a familiar set of kind gray eyes look in on him through the protective glass. “Hungry?” a voice asked through an intercom. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

There was a grunting chuckle and a few digital beeps and then the door was opening. The hulking man on the other side moved into the door frame with a tray in one of his massive hands and a cattle prod in the other. He sheepishly dropped the arm with the prod with a shrug and slid the tray onto the table. 

“It’s okay,” Chat Noir said with half a smile. “I get it.”

“Not worried,” the man replied, voice muffled by his mask. “You’re a good kid.”

“Not really a kid.”

“Still good.” The big man shrugged again and half-glanced behind him. “Extra protein bar.” He winked and then began to back up.

Chat Noir could see two other orderlies behind him, electric prods raised tensely. He ignored them. “Thanks,I  appreciate it, Pierce.”

Pierce gave him another grunt and then the door was closing again. 

He waited until he couldn’t make out any other sounds and then he went to the table and forced himself to eat the meal slowly. He found he stayed full faster when he did, but it was a hard lesson to learn. 

He hid the extra protein bar between two of the books on his table for later. He never noticed his books moved when he slept so they always seemed like a safe enough place to keep things.  

After he finished his meal, he went to the opposite wall and used his pointed claw to scratch another notch into the blindingly white painted surface. He looked up the long line of scratch marks but didn’t bother trying to tally them. 

It didn’t really matter how long he’d been kept in this room. 

He never planned on ever leaving. 

Buy me a cherry coke?

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 2

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs the help of one of Birmingham’s most successful and secretive underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, drugs, and prostitution 

Word Count: 3500+

_____________________________

Today was a surprisingly sunny day in Birmingham, the first one in a while. It was warm enough for you to not need a jacket as you drove from your small unassuming home just outside the city. It wasn’t a long drive. In fact, you’d even walk on the days you had a little extra time or you needed to unwind after a long day, but today you had business to attend to. 

About five blocks down, you arrived at the building. It was a small little one-story fabric shop that was in decent repair, save for the sign that was fading slightly. You parked your car on the street and walked in, the little bell ringing. “Good morning.” You sang politely to Mrs. Hanes, the woman who owned the shop. She was a little old widow, seventy-five at least, with gray hair and large glasses. She was small and thin and looked almost brittle but there was something about her that told her that she was tougher than she appeared to be. 

“Good morning, Miss. L/N! How are you today?” She greeted with a smile in her little old lady voice that you found endearing. 

You smiled as you walked behind the counter, “I’m doing well. Thank you. I wanted to give this to you. A little extra thank you for everything.” Mrs. Hanes turned to you and you pressed a small stack of bills into her hands. 

She looked down at the five £20 bills in her hand and her eyes got wide. Mrs. Hanes leaned forward and embraced you tightly, “Oh, Miss. L/N, thank you so much! I can finally afford to close the shop for a few days to see my dear grandkids in London!” 

Mrs. Hanes looked so happy you couldn’t help but hug her back, “Glad to be of help. But if you ever need anything like that, please ask. You do so much for me.” With that, you released her and made your way through the closed door behind the counter. There was a small room back there that had a table and a small stove with a kettle on it. It looked almost like a tiny dining room. And that was all it was to anyone who didn’t know what lied beneath.

You, however, knew it was so much more. In the back corner of the room, there was a little table with a vase of flowers. Beneath it was an old faded red rug. You carefully lifted the table over and folded the rug up to reveal a small lift hatch in the ground. Bending down, you used the small metal ring to lift it and climbed down the ladder that hung down, closing the door as you descended. 

When your feet finally touched the ground, about ten feet below, you fixed your skirt and carried on down the narrow hallway lit by lamps. The walls around you were reinforced with concrete but, in all honesty, the craftsmanship could have been better. It didn’t matter though. Not many people were allowed down here anyways. 

The hallway ended in a small room with a large printing press in the middle. One man was cutting large sheets of paper very precisely and another was inspecting money carefully with a large magnifying glass that was attached to the table. 

“How’s the American money coming?” You asked them, walking over to the man looking through the magnifying glass. 

He leaned back, stretching his back as he did, “Pretty good, I think. It’s good enough to be clean at a glance but when you look closely… see this letter here? It’s how they track bills in America. This isn’t a valid letter. But everything else looks pretty spot on so they shouldn’t really notice.” He pointed at the row of numbers led by a single letter and you looked closely at the fifty dollar bill he handed you. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out an authentic dollar bill, comparing the two. You wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference if you hadn’t been the one fabricate the false one. “You really don’t think they’ll notice the letter?” 

The man shook his head, “No, ma’am. From what I’ve heard, most people don’t pay attention to the serial numbers. But if an expert looked at it, they could tell.” 

You nodded, satisfied with the work, “Alright. These look good. Print $100,000 worth of it. I need at least $50,000 of it by Friday.” 

“$50,000 by Friday? That’s two days!” The man in the corner, slicing through sheets of false money, asked in shock. 

You nodded in acknowledgement. You knew it was a lot to ask, “I know. I’ll pay you extra for the over time. Just get it done, please.” 

Later that day, you made it back to your main office that was in the back of your distillery. Almost just as you sat down, your assistant, Philip, walked in, “Mr. Shelby called while you were away. He wants to speak with you when you can.” 

“Alright, thank you. I’ll call him back now.” You sat down at your desk, twisting in your chair slightly and trying to stretch out the creaks and pops of the morning. You grabbed the phone from the receiver and dialed 0. “Thomas Shelby, please.” You asked the operator. 

Soon, that familiar voice answered, “Thomas Shelby.” 

“Mr. Shelby? This is Y/N L/N. I heard you wanted to speak.” 

“Yes. I have things ready to get your men out. I wanted an update on the money.” He inquired plainly. 

You leaned back in your chair comfortably, “I just inspected the bills today and they’re up to par. I’m having them printed now. The $50,000 will be done on Friday.” 

“Alright, that’ll do. We’ll arrange a pick up from your place of work.” 

You sucked air between your teeth, “Actually, Mr. Shelby, I prefer to keep the location of that facility confidential. I can have someone drop it off to you as soon as it’s ready.” 

“I would prefer to pick it up myself if possible. I would like to check them myself.” He insisted. 

A breathy chuckle left your lips, “Are you questioning my work, Mr. Shelby?” You asked with a slightly joking tone, twirling the cord of the phone around your finger.

“I mean no offense, Miss. L/N. Please understand that I just need this to work as flawlessly as possible. I’m sure you would do the same in my position.” You wondered how his voice never seemed to vary from that low, even tone. 

You nodded to yourself, “Alright. Tonight at nine o’clock. Meet me at 29 Union Road. Anything else?” 

“Ah, no. Thank you.” With that, Tommy hung the phone back on the receiver, leaving you back to your business again. 

Thomas Shelby, Mr. High-’n-Mighty in this town, wasn’t prepared for what he was about to see. 

**

Nine o’clock came quickly and Tommy pulled up to 29 Union Road right on time. It was… a restaurant. A relatively small restaurant. He pulled the hastily folded sheet he’d scribbled the address you’d given him on and double checked. 29 Union Road. Perhaps, he thought, you wanted to do this transaction in public although he couldn’t imagine why. Or did anyone in Small Heath even care about American money? 

He noticed there was a strangely high number of cars parked along the road for being so far on the outskirts of town, especially since he ran Birmingham and he knew damn well these weren’t residences. 

“Mr. Shelby, you look lost.” You laughed from the stoop of the restaurant., looking down at him staring confusedly at what you assumed was the address. “Come on in.” You motioned, holding the door open until he got to you, when he took the door and held it open for you both to enter. 

He followed close behind you as you led him through the winding of tables around the room. Aside from a few tables that sat the occasional couple or two, there weren’t many people. “How has your day been?” You started the pleasantries, trying to break the silence. 

Tommy was visibly taken aback by the question. It wasn’t one that was asked… ever in this business. “Fine. It’s been fine.” As expected, he didn’t return the question. 

“Well that’s just fine.” You joked back. 

Tommy couldn’t figure out if he was annoyed by you or intrigued. At first, you seemed so serious- so not to be messed with. Over the phone, you were accommodating. Right now, you were joking. Were you unstable or just an enigma? 

When you reached the small bar in the back, tended by only one man who was drying a glass, you just flipped the counter up and walked behind the bar as if you owned the place, “Thanks, Dave.” You smiled at the bartender who just nodded in response. 

You led the older man down a small hallway in the back that had three doors branching off. Two were restrooms and one was a large storeroom. You opened the door to the storeroom and stepped inside. “I was expecting more of an office.” Tommy admitted bluntly and you turned around. 

“What makes you think we’re there?” You asked, peeking up at him with a cocked eyebrow. The two of you found yourselves face to face with a wood panelled wall. You reached forward towards one of the seams and pulled. Tommy had to fight to keep a straight face when a large panel slid aside to reveal an elevator, just large enough to hold two people. 

“Impressive.” He stated with raised eyebrows, the only indication of emotion on his otherwise straight face. 

“Right this way, Mr. Shelby.” You gestured inside, smirking to yourself, knowing that he was about to have his massive ego shot down in just moments. Thomas stepped inside and you followed, closing the iron grate and pressing a button. The elevator shuddered to life and slowly lowered the pair of you down at least fifteen feet. 

With a small bump, the lift came to a stop. Two men waited at the exit, turning immediately to see who was there. “‘Ello, Miss. L/N.” The one on the right, a large man with brown hair and a big beard, greeted, opening the grate for you. 

“‘Ello, Gregory.” You responded, stepping out of the elevator with Tommy following close behind. 

Sure enough, his mind was blown. A large room was carved out down here, surprisingly nice despite being an underground cavern. There were many wooden tables around the room, all with at least four people sitting around each. At the far end was a bar, bustling with people. On either end of the bar were two smaller rooms that were covered with thick red curtains. 

“What is this place?” Tommy asked as you led him through the room. 

“This is my little slice of heaven. We have gambling.” You gestured indistinctly around the room and Tommy’s eyes followed at least three different games in play. “Drugs.” you said, nodding to the plush couches that ran along the walls of the cavern, men and women alike sitting on them with pills in hand. “Alcohol.” You continued as you passed the bar, rows of handles on at least three different shelves. You led him back behind the curtains to the side to reveal a room full of attractive men and women sitting around, scantily dressed, “And all the company you could need for a night.” 

“Men and women?” Tommy asked, surprised. He wasn’t sure he’d even ever seen a male prostitute before. 

A proud look came over your face, “We’re equal opportunity here. If a man wants to sleep around for some money, so be it. And if a woman wants to pay him for a good time, so be it too.” You carried him away down the hall, speaking over your shoulder to him, “Sometimes we even have partakers of the same gender.” 

This was unheard of to Tommy. Not that he had any issues with homosexuality, but he’d never come across somewhere who did it so casually and openly. 

Finally, you opened one final door that made way to a simple office. There was a wooden desk with comfortable looking chairs on either side. The only indication as to which side was yours was the direction the papers were facing. “Please sit.” 

He took the seat closest to the door while you floated to the other side and settled weightlessly into your chair. “Illegal alcohol production and distribution, money counterfeiting, drug distribution, prositution, gambling… is there anything you don’t do?” Tommy questioned in his deep voice. 

“Running betting for horses, distribution of cocaine, and protection services. Don’t worry, Mr. Shelby, your business is safe.” You winked at him. 

“How is it that you seem to know so much about everything?” He asked, leaning back in his seat and interlacing his fingers. 

You exhaled loudly as you stood and glided over to get a glass bottle of house made whiskey. You spoke casually as you poured two glasses, “There are a few key things I’ve learned about being successful in this industry: One, don’t screw your partners over. Two, treat them with respect and hospitality. Three, know everything about them so you always have the upper hand.” 

“You talk about success and power yet the Hemlock Angels are one of the most underground gangs in England, no joke intended. You’re a very difficult person to find.” Tommy interjected when you handed him a drink. 

You sat back down again, “I never once said I wanted power. And the Hemlock Angels are not so much of a gang as we are… a group of people that do underground activities and happen to have a fancy name. As for being a difficult person to find, that’s how I like it. Look at you, for example. So out in the open and eager to show the world who’s in charge. But you read like a book.” 

“If you’re so keen on staying secret, then why’d you show me this place?” Through the question, it sounded almost as if he was threatening you. As if he was saying now I know where to hit you. 

You trailed your finger along the rim of the glass, “Because, Mr. Shelby, I know that we’re not in the same businesses. I am no competition to you and therefore you shouldn’t need to harm my business physically for financial gain. Besides, as you can see, many people know where this place is. It’s only a secret to the police. And, finally, even if our relationship went sour and you exposed this location to the police, you wouldn’t have ruined me. I do not counterfeit here. I don’t produce, package, or export whiskey here. This is the most well known of any facility I run, known in fact by a large population of Small Heath, and yet you still didn’t know where it was.” 

There it was again. That damn cocky, confident, not-to-be-messed-with attitude. Tommy had to struggle to keep his composure. He didn’t appreciate being made to feel like a fool, and although you hadn’t actually made him look like one, he sure felt it. He wasn’t used to being out of control of situations, yet with every word you spoke so confidently, the more he realized that perhaps you held more cards than he’d initially thought. 

“But we met regarding the $50,000, right?” Your tone changed to lift the spirits of the conversation. You reached down to where your feet were and pulled up a briefcase onto the table. With a flick of a latch, the lid was lifted and you spun it around, “Here we are. $50,000 American dollars in $50 dollar bills. Feel free to inspect them.” 

Tommy looked down at the open briefcase and was immediately impressed (but, of course, he couldn’t show it). At first glance, he would have thought he was rich in American money. It looked flawless. Even when he picked up the bills and inspected them more closely, he couldn’t find a fault. They were almost too perfect. “Where’s the imperfection?” 

“The serial numbers,” You pointed to the line of letters and numbers on the dollar, “In America, they use these to indicate where the bill was produced. These aren’t valid letters. But only someone who was looking for it would notice.” 

He closed the briefcase, “These will work. When will the other $50,000 be ready?” 

“I can have them ready at the end of next week.” You knew it was technically possible to have it done in two days but you didn’t want to overwork your men like that again. But there was another matter to attend to now, “How is getting my men released going?” 

“I have the proof ready. All I need to do is make the call and they should be released within a few days.” Tommy reassured.

“May I ask what it is that you have against the chief of police?” You inquired, “I must admit I’m awfully curious to know what dirty laundry the man has.” 

You saw Tommy war with himself slightly, wondering whether or not to tell you. But he did have all the proof after all. You really were just curious. “He frequents the whorehouses despite being married. He’s also lost thousands of dollars of funding through his gambling problems. He had to borrow it all back from a colleague of mine but I guess has forgotten that even criminals keep records.” 

You laughed lowly, almost sadistically, “Gotta love all these high and mighty people treating us like rubbish when they’re the worst of us all.” When Tommy didn’t say anything, you tapped your hands on the table and straightened back up, “Well, Mr. Shelby, I’d say this was rather successful. You have your $50,000 now. Once my men are released from jail, you’ll have your other $50,000. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?” 

Tommy raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “No, that was all. I’ll call you after I contact the chief of police with the terms.” 

You stood up from your desk and walked around to where Tommy had stood as well. “Well if there’s nothing else you’d like to talk about, I guess we’re done here. Feel free to spend some time here though. Anything you want tonight, drinks, drugs, or sex, it’s on me.”

Tommy had to blink twice to straighten out his vision. Was he imagining things or did your teeth just graze your lower lip when you spoke your last sentence? For a quick moment, your voice had sounded almost sultry. But just as soon as he’d noticed the almost seductive mood shift, it was gone and you were back to your generally assertive yet kind self again. 

“Erm, I’ll be heading back to the office but thank you. I’ll be in contact.” Tommy felt the need to get out of this place as soon as possible. Something about you made him feel uneasy. Not in an unsafe way but in an unpredictable way. You were a gamble and he didn’t like to gamble when he wasn’t sure of the outcome. But something about you made him want to take the risk. 

He left promptly, leaving you in your office by yourself. Little did he know, you’d followed him out of the office and just down the hall before it opened into the large gambling room. You leaned against the wall and watched as he left, not looking twice at the room around him, before scurrying out the way he came. 

“So, Thomas Shelby, eh?” A voice that you recognized to be your prodege Rita spoke behind you. “You sure seem to take a liking to him.” 

You shook your head and turned to her, “Men are afraid of women in power because they fear what they don’t know. Some will roll over and do whatever they’re told because they don’t know how else to handle it while some others with large egos, like Tommy Shelby, need to be manipulated a little. See what makes them tick and play off of it.” 

You turned and walked back to your office, Rita hot on your heels, “So what makes Tommy tick then?” She asked, and you could see her taking mental notes as you spoke. 

“Thomas Shelby is used to being in charge. He runs Birmingham as far as he’s concerned. We need to show him that we’re not a threat to his business but that we have control over this city. He’s also used to people bending over backwards for him, especially the women. Give him a little, just enough to think there’s a chance, and then pull it out from under him.” You explained. 

Rita was going to make an excellent head of the Hemlock Angels one day. She was only nineteen but an absolute beauty and smart as a whip. She had dark skin and her natural hair was twisted into a tight updo with little wisps of hair laid against her skin, framing her face. Her father had worked with you, helped in the rise of the Angels as a prominent underground business before being killed in WWI. You felt it was only right that you help bring her up and now you only hoped she could rise above where you were one day.

“As a woman, you hold much more power than anyone thinks you do, Rita. Don’t ever believe otherwise,” You sipped your whiskey and sat back down at your desk, Rita lowering herself into the seat across from you, “And, remember, if all else fails with a male partner, flirt a little. They become putty in your hands.” You smirked against the cool crystal of your half empty whiskey glass. 

____________________

Taglist (Open!): 

@kiaoizz 

@sweatydragoncloudknight

[keichanz]

Little Visits || pt. 1

part two will be posted soon.

“Taisho Brothers Inc., this is Nazuna, how may I direct your call?”

Across from the reception desk, the elevator doors opened but the secretary didn’t look away from her computer as she said, “I’m terribly sorry sir, I’m afraid Mr. Taisho is in a meeting right now, but I’d be happy to take a message if you’d like.”

Grateful for the headset that freed both of her hands, Nazuna snatched a pen to quickly scrawl out the brief message on the small note pad for such a purpose and bit back a sigh as the man on the other end continued to drone on. Now she understood why Tōran hated answering calls from this particular client; he never shut up.

“No, I’m not sure how long it will last—er, about forty-five minutes ago. Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message,” she promised and barely refrained from rolling her eyes.   “Of course. You’re very welcome, Mr. Yanada. Yes, I will deliver it personally—you too. Bye, now.”

Ending the call, Nazuna sighed and eyed her nearly empty cup of coffee. Perhaps it was time for a refill.

“I hope that wasn’t my Mr. Taisho you’re referring to,” a kind female voice piped up and Nazuna lifted her head.

“Mrs. Taisho!” the secretary greeted in pleasant surprise and she received a warm smile in response. She smiled back and replied, “Ah, don’t worry, that call was for Sesshomaru. Tōran is on vacation this week and all of his calls are getting forwarded to me.”

Kagome winced and gave a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. Busy week, hm?”

Nazuna sighed and shrugged. “Just a few more days and then I can breathe again. I was just thinking it’s time to get some more of that lifesaving caffeinated liquid when I took that call.”

Caramel colored eyes lit up and hitching the toddler in her arm higher up on her hip, Kagome stepped forward and set down on the desk a fresh cup of java from the café across the street.

“You’re in luck,” Kagome said with a friendly wink. “They got my order wrong and added an extra shot of espresso. It’s too bitter for me, and it sounds like you need it more than I do anyway.”

Nazuna practically had stars in her eyes as she wrapped her hands around the warm paper cup and beamed at her boss’s generous, beautiful wife.

“You are a lifesaver, Mrs. Taisho,” the younger woman gushed, inhaling the delicious-smelling steam with a delighted sigh. “Thank you so much. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Kagome waved her hand. “It’s fine, I promise. It would have probably just gotten dumped since neither of us are a fan of espresso, and anyway the real reason we stopped in was because Iz wanted to surprise Daddy with his favorite treat. Right, baby?”

Cradled in her arm, one-year old Izayoi briefly turned her head from where it rested on her mother’s shoulder to peek shyly at the smiling receptionist, a brown paper bag with her father’s favorite baked good clutched in her tiny hand.

Nazuna’s face softened and she barely resisted the urge to squeal. Her boss had the most adorable baby!

“Hi, Izayoi,” the secretary greeted with a little finger-wave.

Kagome watched in amusement as her toddler blinked before abruptly hiding again, smashing her face against her shoulder and wrapping her small arms around her neck.

Nazuna giggled while Kagome shook her head, but not without a smile. “So shy,” she said and kissed her daughter between her furry little tears before turning to Nazuna again.

“He’s in his office,” the younger woman supplied with a knowing smile before Kagome could inquire. “I’ll hold his calls. I’m sure he’d be glad for a break himself.”

Kagome beamed. “You’re the best, Zune. I owe you another cup of coffee and anything you want at the café next time I visit.”

The secretary’s eyes glittered as she replied, “I’m quite partial to those yogurt parfaits with the strawberries and their caramel mocha lattes…”

Kagome giggled and winked as she rounded the desk toward where her husband’s office was located. “You got it. Thanks again, Nazuna!”

“Anytime, Mrs. Taisho!” She lifted her newly gifted cup of coffee up and watched as the two disappeared. Her boss was truly a lucky man to have such an amazing wife and adorable little girl. Now if only she could be so lucky…

Sighing wistfully, Nazuna took a sip of her coffee, moaned in delight, then got back to work, rejuvenated.

Unsurprisingly her husband’s office door was closed and Kagome knelt before it to set their one-year old on the floor. Izayoi blinked at her as Kagome smoothed out her cute little dress and dropped a kiss to her nose. The toddler beamed and with a smile, Kagome tweaked her ear, reached over her head, and swung open the door.

Inuyasha was immersed in his work, frowning at his computer screen as he typed up one of the seemingly millions of reports that were due when his office door suddenly opened of its own violation and the scent that drifted in gave him pause.

He froze and amber eyes quickly darted to the door, wondering if she was really here or if he was smelling things. The doorway was empty and Inuyasha frowned, eyes narrowing as a sneaking suspicion made the corners of his lips twitch upward, and then not even a second later his suspicions were confirmed when a very familiar toddler waddled into his office, clutching a paper bag and his heart positively melted at the radiant smile that split her face when she spotted him.

“Babygirl!” Immediately abandoning his work, Inuyasha stood from his chair only to kneel down as his daughter came zooming across the floor toward him as fast as her little legs could carry her.  

Grinning Inuyasha wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her little face as he stood back up, ears flicking as the click of his door closing registered, but he only had eyes for his little girl.

“Daddy!” Izayoi laughed and hugged him around his neck, giggling when he laid a big wet kiss on her pudgy little cheek.

“What’re you doing here?” Inuyasha murmured even though he already had a very good idea. “Come to surprise daddy, huh?”

Leaning back, Izayoi grinned and waved around the brown paper bag she still gripped in her hand.

“Mama,” she said and allowed her father to take the bag from her.

“Way to rat me out, Iz,” Mama said as she ambled toward them and two sets of amber eyes swung her way.

“Kinda hard to be ratted out when your target has a working nose,” Inuyasha drawled, aiming a crooked grin at his wife as he opened his arm and beckoned her over. “I’ll give you an A for effort, though, Mrs. Taisho.”

“You ruin all my good surprises,” Kagome murmured as she wrapped her arms around his waist and tipped her head back to receive his loving kiss with a smile.

“Not my fault,” he rumbled and kissed her again.

“It’s totally your fault.”

“Prove it.” He nuzzled her nose with his and grinned at her little huff of annoyance, but her eyes glittered with amusement.

When all his wife did was wrinkle her nose and level him with a familiar look of exasperation, Inuyasha chuckled and dropped one last soft kiss to her lips before reluctantly pulling back. Kagome tweaked his ear then hitched herself up onto his desk while he sank back down into his chair with Izayoi on his lap. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he noticed she seemed to have helped herself to the contents of the back and his wife sighed in resignation when she noticed, too.

With half a chocolate chip cookie in her mouth, Izayoi blinked great big eyes the color of honey at her father then gave a toothy grin. He shook his head and kissed her nose.

“How’d it go?” Inuyasha asked and slipped his hand inside the bag to steal a cookie before his sneaky daughter polished them all off.

Kagome shrugged and idly surveyed his desk, frowning when she spotted a familiar pair of glasses peeking out from under a stack of papers.

“Everything’s good,” she answered, reaching over to pluck the glasses out from their hiding place. “She was a very good girl and held still when she got her flu shot and her checkup went smoothly. She got a sticker for being such a good girl, didn’t you, sweetie? Show daddy your sticker.”

Eyes widening, Izayoi faced the older half-demon and proudly thrust her hand in his face with a huge grin, displaying the princess sticker on the back of her hand that read, “Great job, Princess!”

“Oooh,” Inuyasha murmured on cue, taking the tiny hand in his own and inspecting the pink glittery sticker. “I’m jealous. Can Dad have a sticker, too?”

Izayoi giggled and shook her head, holding her hand to her chest to protect her precious sticker.

“No? Well then how about I just take yours, then,” he said before promptly bringing her tiny hand to his mouth and pretending to eat it.

The toddler squealed and shook her head, trying to take her hand back. “No, no, no, no Daddy!” she said through her laughter and used her other hand to push at his face.

Inuyasha tried to eat that hand too and from her spot on his desk Kagome watched in amusement as their daughter wriggled around on his lap while her husband made ridiculous “nom nom nom” noises. Eventually Izayoi escaped his grasp and started exploring his office, waddling to and fro with a magnifying glass she’d pilfered from her father’s desk.

Content to let her wander around, Inuyasha sat back in his chair and promptly stuffed a half-eaten cookie in his mouth.

“Why aren’t you wearing these?” Kagome asked, holding up those damned reading glasses and Inuyasha wrinkled his nose as he swallowed his mouthful.

“They make me feel old,” Inuyasha begrudgingly admitted and glared at the offending item dangling from his wife’s fingers. His sight was fine, dammit. He didn’t need them.

Kagome’s lips twitched. “You are old.”

“Hey!” Inuyasha protested and caught his mischievous little wife before she could escape, dragging her onto his lap.  Kagome snickered and made herself comfortable, wrapping her arms around his neck and crossing her legs where they were draped over his thighs.

“I think they make you look sexy,” Kagome purred and kissed his jaw.

Inuyasha smirked and slipped his arms around her waist. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” his wife hummed and she was smiling as he rested his forehead against her own and brushed his lips against hers.

“Thanks,” he whispered and promptly tucked his face into the crook of her neck, heaving a sigh as he tightened his arms around his beloved.

Kagome’s eyebrows rose and a bemused smile curled her lisp as she ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his ears. A giggle from Izayoi prompted her to look over to discover their daughter had discovered the bookshelf and was sitting on the floor with what looked to be an encyclopedia spread out before her.

“What for?” she asked gently, moving her hand down to massage the nape of his neck.

Inuyasha’s pleased growl told her how much he appreciated that gesture so she kept it up, humming quietly under her breath as she waited for her hanyou to answer.

“You,” he finally said a minute later, leaning back with a sigh and aiming one of his loving smiles he reserved just for his family. “Her. This. I needed it.”

Heart full of love for this amazing man, Kagome tugged him down and they shared a long, slow, lingering kiss that bespoke of utter content and all the love they harbored for one another.

“Muh,” a high-pitched voice interrupted followed by an insistent tugging on Inuyasha’s pants and breaking apart, both parents glanced down to find their toddler frowning up at them and bouncing on the balls of her feet, clearly wanting in on the affection.

Inuyasha snorted, Kagome laughed, and then clawed hands reached down to oblige the little girl, lifting her up and settling her on her mother’s lap. A second later she was bombarded with kisses and hugs from her parents and Izayoi’s laughter rang loud and clear, happy, genuine, and pure.

[thecleverdame]

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Two

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Flat of Sam Winchester Sam packs his bags, methodically wrapping jars of chemicals and gently folding anatomy charts. He’s going to bring as much of his laboratory as the carriage will allow.

“Do you truly need all this?” Dean is holding a heavy jar up to the light, it’s contents questionable as the specimen floats to the side of the glass. “Dad didn’t need fancy magnifying glasses, he did the job with a gun and a bible.”

“Dad was convinced there were monsters in every dark corner of the world. He was just another believer who fell in with the mass hysteria.” Sam doesn't like to talk about John, there’s too much unfinished business. “How many genuine poltergeists have we come across in our life, three?”

“Four.” Dean holds up four fingers triumphantly. “You always forget the woman in white.”

Sam looks up as if remembering for the first time. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

“I suppose it does.” Getting up from his perch, Dean wanders around the room as Sam goes about his work. The walls are filled with charts and maps, Sam’s always had a secret pension for cartography.

Above the fireplace there two photos. One is of their parents, John sitting in a chair, Mary standing behind him with her hand placed on his shoulder. There is no joy, only long faces as they look into the camera. The second is of a beautiful blonde woman, her hair falling over her shoulder, her name written in elaborate calligraphy across the bottom of the frame: Jessica. Dean takes the pictures, making a close inspection of the woman who was once part of his brother's life.

“If you’re going to touch my things, you can wait downstairs.” Sam plucks the frame from Dean’s hand and tucks it into his case, along with his clothing.

“You can’t have that much more to pack. There’s nothing left.” Dean holds his hands out, showcasing the bare room.

“I’m almost done.” Sam walks to the window, opening a birdcage with a bright red cardinal inside.

“What will you do with him?” Dean watches the bird flutter out of the cage and then out the open window.

“Fly free. It is a good day for sad farewells.” Sam watches it go, looking down at the coach on the street below. “Our carriage awaits.”

-

It takes an hour to get out of New York City, the coach lumbering past the city limits, forgoing civilization. The wide road narrows, a single dirt path that leads onward through thickly forested wilderness.

“Jo had no interest in accompanying us?” Sam inquires, looking out the window at the never ending sea of trees. Dusk is falling but they plan to continue on throughout the night.

“She’s unhappy with me.” Dean shrugs, his lip curling.

“With good reason.” Sam lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t need your judgment as well as hers. We’ll have a child the normal way, just as everyone else does.”

“Not if you’re with me on this investigation. I believe one has to be present to conceive a child.” Sam can’t help but tease.

“Don’t get smart.” Dean kicks his brother's boot. “We’ve plenty of time. She’s not that old, although to hear her tell it, she’s nearing her final years. Everything is dramatic beyond reason.”

“Maybe,” Sam shrugs. “She wants a child, it seems like a normal desire.”

“She wants someone else’s child, from an orphanage.” Dean shakes his head. “I’m not talking about this anymore. It’s part of the reason I’m here, I need a break from this constant pressure.”

“You’ll hear no more of it from me.” Sam smiles, taking their father’s journal from his bag.

“If you think he was a lunatic, why do you carry his journal with you?”

“There’s a lot to be learned.” Sam taps the cover. “He might have not realized what he saw, but from just the description I’m able to deduce what sort of natural phenomenon he was witnessing. Just last week I determined his obsession with the will-o'-the-wisp was likely nothing more than swamp gas. This is what gives us insight. When the villagers start talking of magical fairy lights in the forest, we’ll know where to start looking.”

“He’d hate it.” Dean chuckles, rolling up his jacket as a pillow, lying down on the bench.

“Yes, he would.”

He has few memories of his father. And what remains are faint recollections. What he can recall with a burning intensity are his father’s obsessions. His quest to find and kill monsters that never really existed. John Winchester saw demons lurking in every shadow. He found the devil in whispered secrets and meaningless symbols. And his father killed without discretion, he saw only black and white, good and evil.

John’s relentless belief in the spiritual world is what still fuels Sam’s desire to disprove anything otherworldly. He and Dean rely on facts and a sense of order and reason. Rarely do the creatures hiding in the night turn out to be anything other than flesh and blood men.

The sun quickly fades as the coach rocks along, tree branches scraping the side of the carriage. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howls and Sam looks out the small window into the black of night, before shutting the curtain and finding some sleep of his own.

The next morning, Sam wakes up before Dean, peeking out to reveal their journey has progressed through the sun-dappled forest. His brother is still in the depths of deep sleep, a hand resting limp in his lap. Across Dean’s open palm is a prominent scar, a long nasty cut he acquired in a scuffle many years ago.  Sam checks the contents of his leather satchel, pausing for a moment to study the palm of his own hand. There are strange scars on both palms, evenly dispersed tiny dots of white tissue. He’s had them his entire life, unsure of how they came to be.

Sleepy Hollow

Sam and Dean stand between two massive stone pillars, watching the coach as it leaves them behind.

“You’ll have to leave most of your luggage here. We can send for it later.” Dean grumbles, picking up his bags. “Tell me again why he couldn’t take us into town?”

“Superstition,” Sam confirms, glancing up at the tree limbs above them. “Dean, look.”

There are dead ravens hanging from the branches, strung up by twine.

“A few dead crows to keep the rest out of the fields.” Dean’s grimaces. “It’s a grisly sight. Welcome to Sleepy Hollow.”

They follow the winding road to town, passing a church and a graveyard. The road ahead is bordered by rows of businesses and two-story homes. As they enter the town square an elderly woman stands in her doorway, watching. Sam tips his hat and the woman scowls, looking away and shutting the door with a thud.

“I just love townspeople,” Dean chortles.

Looking up Sam spies another townie staring down from his window. The moment their eyes meet he closes the shutters.

“I’m seeing a pattern,” Sam comments, looking behind him. As they continue they see there are two or three riflemen placed at vantage points on the roofs of the town. Looking back Sam spies another in the church tower. The whole village is like the wild west, waiting for outlaws to attack.

Off in the distance, sitting in the middle of a field, there’s a strange wooden bunker, more like a small fortress with a huge bell mounted on the top. Several farmers are gathered around it all bearing rifles. The Winchesters pause, looking at each other and the sight before them. A young boy about ten, walks up to one of the rifleman, with food and drink tied up in a cloth. The older man looks down, offering the boy an affectionate pat on the head.

“Don’t worry, son.”

Another man leads the boy away as the father climbs back up onto the bunker, several rifles slung over his back. In front of the bunker, across the field, other farmers are lighting torches, enough to line the entirety of the forest's edge.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Sam murmurs, moving forward.

“I don’t think we should be outside during night hours, Sam.” Dean hikes his bag up on his shoulder. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“We’re headed there.” Sam points to a grand manor home sitting atop a hill, the windows are aglow, casting a warm picture against the gray backdrop of impending night.

Van Tassel House

Sam sets down his bags on the porch of the stately home. The length of the porch is lined with jack-o-lanterns, glowing orange.

Dean shoves an elbow into his brother’s ribs, drawing his attention to a couple, lustfully wrapped around each other in a dark corner of the porch. Sam clears his throat, mumbling an apology and opening the door. A shaft of light illuminates the kissing duo, both brothers memorizing their faces for future reference.

The front door opens to reveal the foyer and main hall. There’s a harvest party in progress, the town is gathered, music playing in the background. Men and women are enjoying food and drink, talking quietly in groups as Sam and Dean make their way through the celebration.

Dean stops a young woman, smiling with brazen charm. “Pardon our intrusion, we’re seeking Baltus Van Tassel.”

“In the parlor sir, farther on,” she nods, glancing back to him. Ahead they find a large group of men, women, and children in a circle, taunting a blindfolded woman, you, being spun around by a barrel-chested man.

-

You can feel your head roll as Brom spins you, again and again, his large hands lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary. Suddenly he releases you, and everyone goes quiet, avoiding your searching outstretched hands.

You circle slowly, the blindfold tightly covering your eyes, chanting the refrain that makes the children and even some of the women shiver with pleasurable fright. They stifle their giggles as you reach out, grasping at the air. “The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?”

Lunging forward, you grab empty air, narrowly missing Brom as the crowd snickers. Dean glances back, noting the couple from the porch making their way back into the party. Sam is leading the way, trying to pass through the crowd to reach the far door.

You reach out, only to meet the solid frame of a warm body beneath your hands as the room goes silent. You’ve no idea that the room is quiet because you’ve grabbed onto a stranger. After all, silence is the point of the game, to avoid your capture.

Your hand pats the chest in front of you, he’s a man and he’s large. Reaching up you touch Sam’s face.

Sam’s looks to Dean who just grins back. “A kiss, a kiss!” a child calls out.

“She has to guess first,” yells another woman. Dean watches the man who was just outside with another woman, slip his arm around the wifely matron standing beside him. He’s only been here ten minutes and he’s already confirmed an extramarital affair. Your fingers trail across the strong jaw of the unknown man before you. You’ve no idea who it is, so you take a guess. “Is it...Theodore?” The crowd laughs and Sam clears his throat. “Pardon ma’am. I am a stranger here.” A stranger? You smile, excited at the prospect. “Have a kiss on account then.”

Standing on the tips of your toes, you stretch up, placing a kiss at his jaw, then take off your blindfold to reveal a breathtakingly handsome man standing before you. There’s a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, his bright eyes shining. But his entire expression changes when he gets a clear look at your face.

For a fleeting moment, Sam flounders, stricken by the sight of you, his composure failing him as he stares at you, somewhat stunned.

You glance down at his hand, finding no ring on his finger.

“I...um, I am looking for Baltus Van Tassel,” he manages, never looking away.

“You’re in luck.” You smile, eyes locked on each other. “I am his daughter. Y/N Van Tassel.”   “And who are you, friend? We have not heard your name yet.” Brom steps forward.

Sam gives you one last look before turning his attention to the man, roughly matching his height and size, who’s clearly unhappy with his presence.

“I have not said it. Excuse me…” Sam tries to move forward.

Brom grabs at Sam’s collar as Sam stares at him, confused at this overreaction.

“Brom!” You shout, tugging on his arm. He’s always had a delusion that he has some claim to you, but in reality, there is no love connection between you, there never will be.

“You need some manners.” Brom hisses.

“You need to release my brother.” Dean steps forward and the crowd steps back, leaving the three men in the center of the room.

“Come, come.” There’s a chuckle from the back of the room. It’s your father, Baltus. “We want no raised voices on this happy occasion.”

“Father,” you gesture toward Brom.

“It is only to raise the spirits during this dark time that I and my good wife are giving this little party.” Your stepmother stands behind your father, looking on with silent judgment.  Brom releases Sam, stepping back and you relax.

Sam shakes off the confrontation, just happy to have a focal point, somewhere to concentrate other than your wonderful face and full bosom.

“Young sirs, you are welcome, even if you are selling something!” He chuckles, patting his belly.

“Thank you.” Sam smoothes a hand through his hair. “I am Constable Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Constable Dean Winchester. We are sent to you from New York with authority to investigate the murders in Sleepy Hollow.”

This news seems to have quite the effect as the entire room goes still. You give both men the appraisal they deserve, they are rather wonderful examples of the male gender. Smart and handsome is an elusive pairing in a village as small as this one.

“What good are Constables?” Reverend Steenwyck pipes up, unable to contain his outburst. “Reverend.” Lady Van Tassel, your stepmother, gives the Clergyman a reproachful look, moving forward towards the brothers. “Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constables. I hope you will honor this house by remaining with us until-”

“Until you’ve made an arrest!” Brom snorts.

To both Sam and Dean’s surprise, this gets a nervous laugh. Your father frowns and Brom snorts but all you can do is look at Constable Sam Winchester with renewed interest. He’s to stay in your home, a fact that brings interesting possibility.

Sam can feel you watching him as if he has a sixth sense that’s activated only for you. His brother, Dean, is the one who catches you appraising Sam like a prize pig, trying to hide his amusement as you look away with a sly smile. Baltus turns to his wife, “Well spoken!” Then turns to Sam and Dean. “Come, gentlemen. We’ll get you settled. Play on! Let the party resume.” The fiddlers strike up the music as you watch the two men leave the room.

[the-wordweaver]

The townhouse's black front door was opened by a man with a thin face, pinched nose, and limp brown hair. He wore a black suit, a blue silk vest and a white cravat. 

"Mr. Plinth, I presume," Corander said, tipping his hat. "A pleasure to meet you in person."

"As this is our first time seeing each other in person," Plinth said in a dull tone, "it would follow that we have never met at all."

"On the contrary, Mr. Plinth," Corander replied brightly, "I am of the opinion that reading what a man has written is a way of meeting him, purely on the level of the mind. But we could argue the point all day; won't you let us come in?" 

For a moment I believed that Mr. Plinth would not, though he had in fact asked for us to come. But he stepped aside and opened the door wide for us to enter. The townhouse's foyer was a long narrow hall with a tall ceiling, and the walls were lined with doors leading off to unknown rooms. In the farthest corner of the room a slender staircase rose up to the second floor, disappearing around a corner. 

"As you will recall from my letter, gentlemen," Plinth said, and then cleared his throat. "That is, ladies and...er, mister and miss....umm..."

"Inspectors," I said. I had encountered enough men who gave the same reaction as this that I had no qualms about correcting him. It was better than dealing with the boorish pigs who would pitch a fit when a woman stepped through their door in the role of an investigator.

"Miss Leefort is my partner in investigation," Corander explained smoothly. "We will work together to solve your problem, Mr. Plinth." The man looked askance at us---at me particularly---as if he doubted we could get anything done together. "Yes, of course. Anyway, as you recall from my letter, I've had peculiar incidents occurring in my house." 

"Yes, I remember the letter," Corander said. "But won't you please explain it once more?" 

"About three months ago," Plinth began, "I started to notice things going missing in my house. Just small things: a silver spoon, an old candlestick, an inkwell. My maid and serving man also told me that small items were missing. We searched for them but found nothing. I was perplexed, because none of the items were very valuable, so it would be strange that a thief would go to the trouble of breaking in and stealing them. I suspect that the maid might be culpable; she's always been shifty and she continually asks for a pay raise to feed some illegitimate child she's got stashed away somewhere. Since I consistently refuse to pay her more for such a cause, she likely decided to start taking things that she believed I wouldn't miss, so that she could sell them." 

"Why would your maid tell you of missing items in your house if she had stolen them herself?" I asked. 

"To cover her tracks, of course," Mr. Plinth sniffed. 

"But that was not the whole of your letter, I believe," said Corander. "Was there not more?" 

"Yes. Two days ago, all the items that went missing were returned to my house," Plinth said. "All of them, put exactly in the places where they belonged. And they weren't replicas, either; I have a photographic memory and they were all precisely the same items." 

"Interesting," Corander mused in a tone that, I had come to learn, meant he was not interested at all. "And what is your theory as to the reason for this bizarre occurrence?" 

"I think the maid felt guilty, or surmised that I suspected her," Plinth sneered. "She must have decided return everything she'd stolen before I confronted her and sacked her. I still fully intend to, of course. However, as I do not wish to be thought of as an unfair man, I thought it best to ask you and your...assistant...to investigate the matter for me before I make any final decision." 

"Very prudent of you, my good man," Corander intoned blandly, giving a slight bow. "Now, to begin our investigation, my assistant and I would like to see all the items that were pilfered and then returned." 

Plinth nodded and gestured for us to follow him. Corander pressed my arm and we fell back to walking a few feet behind the man of the house.

"Tell me you don't buy the rubbish about the house maid," I murmured. 

"Of course not," Corander said. "Mr. Plinth is clearly hiding something, although whether it's directly related to his immediate little puzzle remains to be seen. Depend upon it: we will try our best to discover what Master Plinth is so keen to keep hidden."

 Mr. Plinth first led us to a small room with blue walls and dark wood paneling. It seemed a peculiar chamber, as its function was not immediately clear to me. On one wall sat a desk covered with papers, and next to it a matching bookcase filled with books. And yet I was not inclined to call it a study, because along another wall there also sat a sideboard such as for storing china and linens, and in the center of the room was a small dining table. Both were laid with white lace runners and silver candlesticks. Four place settings sat around the table, as if it were ready for a full dinner party, but with barely enough room to pull a chair out and sit. It seemed an odd arrangement; surely one of the many doors in this impressive house must lead to a chamber better suited for at least one of the multiple purposes this room seemed to serve?

 A serving man stood at the sideboard, polishing some silver pieces. At his side was a very small girl in a flowing white nightgown. When Corander and I entered behind Mr. Plinth, she turned to look at us. I was immediately struck by her features; her skin was pale and her hair was long and blonde like white gold. She watched us with big blue eyes and smiled with soft pink lips. Overall her fair complexion, slightness of figure, and delicacy of feature gave the impression of an angel. But I recognized her right away. She was no divine creature; she was my sister!

At once my brain clamored in alarm. How could she be related to me? Her blonde hair and delicate face were the exact opposite of my own black locks and heavy brow. In fact, I was sure I had never seen this child before in my life. And yet somehow in my bones I was still convinced that she was my sibling.

I glanced at Corander, hoping he would have some explanation, but if he noticed my state of distress he did not acknowledge it.

"This is where I first noticed something missing," Mr. Plinth said. He pointed to the lace runner on the sideboard. "This was the first thing taken from my house." Plinth walked crossed the room to it. At his approach the serving man turned, and Mr. Plinth gently pushed him out of the way, planting his fingertips on the man's chest. Five red spots appeared on the servant’s white shirt. Mr. Plinth removed his hand, and the spots grew rapidly. They were wounds, bleeding rapidly and profusely! Mr. Plinth continued talking as if nothing were amiss, and indeed the servant himself seemed not to notice his injuries. He gathered up his silver and exited the room with unruffled composure, oblivious to the blood stains blossoming on his chest.

"Can you tell us any of the particulars regarding this piece of lacework?" Corander asked. He stepped aside and let the bleeding servant glide past him uncontested. 

Plinth nodded. "This lace runner is nothing special; my sister bought it some years ago. It's a cheap sample, made with mediocre skill. The style isn't even in fashion anymore. I understand a poor lady's interest in lacework and other delicate furnishings, but there's no reason why my housekeeper would want to steal this. Not as far as I can see." 

Corander came over and closely inspected the lace runner with his magnifying glass. When he straightened he simply gave a noncommittal grunt. Plinth, clearly dissatisfied with Corander's methods, cleared his throat. "Let's move on, shall we?" He placed a hand on the golden head of my little sister. "Excuse us, my dear. Sorry, but I can't play right now. I have to help the nice detective and his lady friend look around the house." She merely blinked her big eyes at him. He patted her head and walked back to the door. Corander followed. 

I stayed still, watching the girl. She stared after Mr. Plinth. A red droplet dripped down her forehead like a bead of perspiration. 

And then I saw her skull begin to crack.

 A scream clogged my throat but would not manifest. The little girl -- no, not just a little girl, my sister --  stood there placidly, seemingly unaware of her condition. I slowly moved around the table to approach her; she turned to follow my movements, until we were standing face to face. Blood was dripping down her forehead from the crack in her skull, violently red against her porcelain skin, but she calmly looked up at me with her wide blue eyes. They were neither questioning nor accusatory, just vaguely curious.

I opened my mouth to say something to her, or perhaps call to Corander for help, but before I could utter a sound my little sister dropped to the floor like a sack of flour, as if her legs had been swept out from under her. She lay there sprawled on the floor, and now her eyes were blank and vacant. They were empty eyes, and now I knew that she was most certainly dead.

"Corander!" I finally managed to shout. "Corander, help!" I looked back down at the little girl. Her hair had vanished, and her bare skull was exposed like a cracked eggshell. Bubbles began to hiss and fizz across her scalp. My mouth was filling with chalky powder. I tried again to scream once more, but my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. Blood was pooling on the floor around the dissolving skull, slipping outward until it touched the toes of my boots. 

Finally Corander appeared in the doorway. "What's the problem?" he asked me. 

My mouth would not move; I could not speak. I could not even tear my eyes from the sight on the floor before me. Now the powder in my mouth was bubbling and fizzing. The little girl's face was melting away, disappearing into a pool of blood and bubbles. Corander did not seem to take notice of the atrocity on the floor.

Something began to push itself into my mouth, forcing its way up and out of my throat. I could feel it between my tongue and my pallet. It was soft and slimy, only about the size of a kidney bean, and it rolled around in a solid mass. I wanted to shout, to scream, but I could not open my mouth. Before me, the little girl's skull was almost fully dissolved, with very little left to make her recognizable. A horrific realization overtook me. My God, her brain, her brain! What else could possibly be in my mouth? My throat constricted and my stomach heaved within me. The only urge in my body was to expel the repulsive thing. I wretched and forced my mouth to open, and spat the foul package out. It landed with a splash in the pool of blood, and looked like a yolk that had spilled out of a cracked egg. The dissolving reaction of the poor little girl's skull had slowed to an impotent sizzle, and all that was left of her head was half of her delicate mouth and single glassy eye, staring up at nothing.

 As if some levee had broken, tears began to stream down my face. I still could make no sound; I merely stared down at the tragedy on the floor, hands reaching to grasp yet not daring to touch. The room smelled like rotten eggs. From the doorway, Corander's stern glance dragged my attention away from the remains of the little girl.

 "Come, Miss Leefort," he said. "We're here on a job, we've no time to dither." He turned and left me. And what choice did I have but to follow?

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month Six

Square(s) Filled: Smiting for @heavenandhellbingo

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, arguing, smiting, case level violence, emotional pain

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1522

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time.

A/N: This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do.

The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month Six

Y/N sat in the office pouring over old files, crime scene photos and newspaper clippings, hoping something would jump out at her. They had less than a month to wrap this up before two more people went ‘missing’ into a puff of pink dust. With how things were going with her and Dean, and the fact that Cas didn’t think the Rit Zien knew the difference between emotional and physical pain, it very well could be them next.

It was this dance they were stuck in and they were coming up one more graceful, or at least well practiced, spin. The words were the same each time the song played. She and Dean moving around each other, the same words, the same actions. They were trying to keep up the charade, go through the motions, say the words, but it all worked out the same in the end, didn’t it? After they wrapped the case, where would they be? Back to hunting, best friends and partners. Five months can make you see a person in a whole new light and that was where she found herself now.

Clearing her mind, she returned to the clippings when something caught her eye. She checked another clipping. She double and triple checked the information before she called Dean.

“Hi, Honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“You need to come home right now. I think I found something. Something huge.”

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

The garage was a fifteen minute drive and Dean made it home in less than ten. “Y/N! Honey! Where are you?” She heard his boots echo through the house, hitting the hardwoods as he ran through the first floor.

“Down here!” Y/N called from the bottom of the stairs.

His footfalls pounded heavy down the wooden staircase as he raced to her. “Tell me you have good news.”

“Look at these clippings,” she requested, handing him a magnifying glass. “Tell me what you see.”

Dean examined each of the eight articles and pictures she had laid out over the desk. He went back and forth, inspecting them over and over. “Son of a bitch.”

“You see it too? I’m not crazy. Tell me I’m not crazy,” she pleaded with him.

“You’re not crazy,” Dean confirmed. “You’re a brilliant, badass hunter, Honey. You did it!” He pulled her in and kissed her. The kiss wasn’t rushed like the first one they shared. As soon as her mind recovered from the shock, she threw her arms around him, eagerly kissing him back. This kiss held more passion and promise than the last.

“Dean…” Y/N breathed, pulling back from his embrace. “I know the last five months have been a roller coaster, but it’s been good. It can’t get much better, but it sure can get worse. Either way we turn, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Y/N, we go round and round trying to work it out, and all we get is hell bent and bound. We’re never far from right where we are. You think that we would get enough, I know there’s a possibility that we’re going to fuck it up. But we’re holding on, and we’re sinking down. We go, round and round, making circles.” Dean read her mind, finishing the thought for her.

“Dean, we circle each other, like partners in a dance or fighters in the ring, it depends on the day. Let’s just focus and finish this thing, then maybe...just maybe we can figure out what this is, or what we even want it to be,” she suggested, holding out hope that they actually got the chance to have that talk. “I’m going to grab us a drink, why don’t you call Cas?”

“Yeah, okay. You’re right, we can wait,” Dean conceded and bowed his head. “Cas, we need you, buddy. We got something here and we need your help. So come on down, you’re the next contestant on Name that Douchebag Angel,” Dean opened his eyes, hoping Cas would have appeared in the room with them.

“Hello, Y/N,” Cas rasped from the doorway to the kitchen, startling her.

“Cas! Don’t do that!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m sorry. Did you not just pray for me?” Castiel tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“No, Dean did. He’s downstairs,” she led the way, waiting for Cas to follow her.

“No, I am pretty sure I heard you loud and clear, Y/N,” Cas repeated.

“No, Castiel. I did not pray for you, despite what you think you heard. Now, forget about it and let’s finish this shit now!” Y/N growled at him as they entered the office.

Dean had not seen this fire in her since the demon hunt. He was relieved he was not the cause of her anger this time. “Whoa, did you piss in her Cherrios?”

“I don’t understand that reference, Dean,” Cas declared and Dean broke out in laughter. “Dean, I hardly think now is the tim-.”

“Focus, Dean!” Y/N chided him, dragging Castiel to the desk to look over the news articles she had been inspecting. “Cas, we think this might be the angel, the Rit Zien. They are in all the photos from the newspaper. These couples didn’t live in the same neighborhood, so it cannot be a coincidence that this person knew all the couples. We think this is it.”

“We won’t know for sure until they show up. I cannot recognize their grace from a grainy photograph,” he explained. “I will need to see the vessel in person to know if this is the Rit Zien.”

“Well, they are drawn to physical or emotional pain, right?” Dean inquired. “I think we’ve got enough of that right here. They’ll come.”

Days and days passed without incident. To say things were tense around the house would would be putting it lightly. Dean and Y/N worked, came home, ate and went to bed. On the fourth night, she couldn’t take it anymore. She broke.

“What do you want from me, Dean? I need to know where I stand with you,” she cried. “I can’t go back to our normal lives knowing how this feels and how badly I want it to be real.”

“This is the closest we’ll ever get to normal. I want to believe that in our lives, our real lives, that a relationship with you is possible. But, what if we can’t? Aren’t you sick and tired of trying with me? We keep fucking this up, running circles around each other. What if we keep fucking it up out there?” Dean challenged her, afraid of what she was really feeling.

“You know what? I can’t do this right now. I thought I could, but no. Nope. And don’t bother coming to bed. You can sleep in your old room for the night. I need some time,” she sniffed, trying to hide the tears and emotion rolling off of her. She ran up the stairs and slammed the door to the room they had been sharing. Until that night.

Dean wasn’t even sure what happened, but he knew he had said the wrong thing. He usually did. He grabbed a beer and went up to shower before bed. It was going to be a long couple of weeks in this house with her if he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Dean closed his eyes as the water pounded down on him. The shower was hot but felt good on his tired muscles. Almost six months of manual labor in the garage had been harder than he thought it would be. But he adjusted, he figured it out. His body acclimated to the job, his mind to their new identities and his emotions to this new life. His eyes flew open, struck with the epiphany of how to fix it. He turned off the water and quickly dried himself off when a scream tore through the house. “Y/N!”

Dean took off down the hall to their room, clad in only his towel, and threw open the door. There in the middle of the room was a strange woman with his wife, his pretend wife. Y/N had always held her own in any fight with any monster they had ever encountered, but she was screaming out of terror. Dean had never seen that look on her face before. He couldn’t help but think he was the cause of at least part of it. The woman never even registered his presence in the room.

“Y/N, it doesn’t have to hurt like this. I can make all of that go away,” she cooed, even as Y/N continued to wail. The woman raised her arm to Y/N’s forehead and Y/N started glowing pink.

Dean had never moved so fast in his life. He grabbed the hidden blade and lunged at the angel, plunging the weapon deep within it’s chest. A bright light burst through the room before the angel disappeared, leaving nothing but the vessel and pair of scorched wings on the carpet. “Keep your hands off my wife, bitch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, seriously right?! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

Making Circles: @squirrelnotsam @karikatz12481  @deans-baby-momma​