#she just looks over at me with them big 'ol red soggy eyes

[trappedinafantasy37]

Why she gotta be looking at me like this?

[kiss-theggoat]

Familiar

Ghostface (Billy Loomis) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You've been having a shameful relationship with a certain Woodsboro slasher. One night, during a particularly passionate encounter, you discover who it actually is you’ve been spending time with.

Warnings: Smut, you don’t know you’re fucking Billy so I guess elements of non-con

“Guys come on! So what if I’m a virgin, I mean it’s normal!” Randy sat on the concrete ledge, fighting for his life against the vultures that are Stu and Billy. They cackled and fist bumped, turning back towards Randy to listen to him dig himself deeper into the virginity hole.

You overheard this conversation as you walked towards the group, lunch tray in hand and backpack slung over one shoulder, making it ache. Stu and Tatum sat furthest to the right, as usual, on top of eachother, kissing and touching, Tatum sitting on his lap. Then Sydney to their left, then Billy beside her, chewing on some apple slices Syd had brought. Randy sat furthest to the right, a few feet away from Billy. You strode over, plopping down between Billy and Randy. “What’s everyone arguing about?” You asked with a smile, also silently questioning if your school chicken sandwich would give you salmonella.

Stu laughed, tossing a chocolate in his mouth. “We just figured out that ol’ stunner Randy Meeks here is a virgin.” He threw a candy towards Randy, making him swat it away and flip Stu off. You were conflicted. You could take Randy’s side and say you were too, but that’d be a lie. If you said you weren’t a virgin, then everyone would ask who you’d slept with, because you told Syd and Tatum that you were a virgin. They’d know it happened recently, and you couldn’t exactly tell them you’d been meeting with a certain ghost-faced serial killer.

You shrugged. “Me too.” With a sneer, you peeled the bun back to reveal a questionably pink looking breaded piece of chicken. “You want this?” You held the burger out to Stu, who snatched it up and began to scarf it down like he hadn’t eaten in a month, which left you with a few bland, soggy french fries.

“A-HA!” Randy pointed an accusatory finger at Billy. “Told you! Totally normal to be a virgin. Just cause you're used to seeing movies where every single teenager is having sex doesn’t mean that-“

“It’s not the movies, Spielberg.” Billy interrupted. “Most of the people I know - in this school - aren’t virgins.”

You made eye contact with Billy, just now realizing that he was staring you down, deep brown eyes burning holes into yours. Trying to play off how nervous you were around him, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the big deal, Billy? Being a virgin isn’t embarrassing.”

Billy dropped the apple slice he was eating, leaning closer to you. Something in his eyes looked right through you. It looked like he knew all of your secrets, every little thing you’ve done in the dark. You tensed and backed up, biting half of your cardboard-like fry. “What?” You asked defensively, trying to get him to back off.

He didn’t say a word for a few seconds, staring at you with the same blank expression. “You’re really a virgin, huh?”

Did he know? How could he possibly know? Did EVERYONE know? You started to panic internally, but kept it cool on the outside. “Yes! I don’t know what the big deal is. Just because I haven’t found someone yet doesn’t mean I’m a loser or something.”

“Yeah right! You’re a total loser!” Stu yelled, finishing your sandwich. “I can’t believe a hottie like you is a virgin! Maybe you and Randy can fuck, get it over with.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You threw a fry at him, but it missed him, unlike Tatum’s slap on the chest, “Ugh, Stu don’t be gross.” She whined.

Randy’s face was bright red. You always thought he might have a little thing for you, but you’d pretty much had your eyes on Billy ever since high school started. You were glad to be his friend, but when he started dating one of your best friends, Syd, you couldn’t help but be consumed completely with jealousy. She knew you’d had a crush on him a little bit, and still dated him. You convinced her you were over it. Girl code, y’know?

“I’m not rushing to not be a virgin. I’m fine with it.” You said matter-of-factly and ate another fry. Billy scoffed, leaning back against his hands, which earned him a glare from both you and Sydney. You had no clue why he was being so rude about this, he couldn’t know. The bell rang out, signaling both the terrible start of your Algebra class and the blissful end of this conversation. “See you guys later.” You mumbled, taking your tray with you as you left.

The alarm clock beside you read 12:36 AM. You had been reading next to your lamp at your desk for a while, procrastinating your homework long enough to where it hopefully disappeared. With a yawn and an ache behind your eyes you decided it was bedtime. As you stood up to turn your lamp off, you jumped at the sound of your phone ringing. Your body had an immediate response, like Pavlov’s dogs. A phone call late at night usually meant a visit from your favorite ghost.

You picked up the line. “Hello?” You asked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your fingernail.

“Hi pretty girl…” his sultry voice had you hot in your cool bedroom, cheeks turning pink. “Your blinds are closed. I thought I told you to keep those open.”

“Sorry.” You said softly. “It was hot today…” you walked towards your curtains and moved them to the side, standing in the window.

A hearty chuckle sounded from over the line. “There she is…wearing my favorite shirt…good girl…”

You looked down at the tank top you had on, pink, simple, but low cut and revealing. Perfect for bed and, apparently, Ghostface. With it, you wore a pair of plain black lounge shorts that fit loose around your thighs.

“I’m in a hurry tonight, princess so get to it.” He said quickly, “Is the window unlocked like I told you?”

You nodded, big enough for him to see from his usual spot in the yard. You decided to listen to the man, getting to work. You set the phone down for just a second, quickly taking your shirt off. You had no bra, so he had a full unobstructed view of your tits he loved so much. You picked up the phone again and heard a small groan from him. “Attagirl…”

You shimmied your shorts off your legs, pleased that you had worn panties he liked, your girliest ones, purple with a little gemstone heart on the waistband.

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming, pretty girl.”

You bit your lip, leaning in closer to the window. “Come inside already…” You whispered needily, voice almost trembling from your desperation.

One minute your yard was empty, normal. The picture of suburban bliss. The next, it was overtaken by the shadow of a brutal, ruthless killer, threatening aura filling the whole yard. He should scare you, but your body had a visceral reaction to him. Face hot, skin tingling, panties wet. You wanted him every single night like you’d never wanted anything before, and seeing him was like lighting a fire in your chest. It was borderline humiliating how bad you needed him.

You slid the window open, screen discarded weeks ago, and you waited with vibrating skin. You watched his gloved hands grip the window sill, strong arms pulling him up into your childhood bedroom. Maybe that was part of the appeal. He was so forbidden, having a secret relationship in your home with a man like him was so hot to you.

There he stood in all his glory, black boots heavy on your white rug. He was on you in seconds, hands wandering, grabbing your tits hard with one, the other pushing your panties down. “So wet already.” He growled. His voice close-up was weird, but something you’d gotten used to. You knew he was using a voice changer, it crackled very once in a while and you could hear another voice in tandem with his deep, modulated one. His real voice. You couldn’t hear it well enough to know who it was, but you liked hearing it anyway.

You nodded, breathless, backing up to your bed while pulling him at the bicep with you. You laid back, and he slid your panties off the rest of the way, slipping them into his back pocket. That made your face flame red. The fact that he wanted to keep your wet panties was insane to you, made you feel hot, made you feel wanted. It made you feel like he needed you as bad as you needed him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling on his cloak as he stepped between your legs.

“Needy, huh? Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be acting like such a slut.” He snapped, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. His gloved hands trailed up the smooth skin of your inner thighs, stopping at the apex to admire the way you looked in the low warm light of your bedroom.

He slid his glove off, something he’s never done before. You looked down quickly at his hand, but a firm grip on your jaw slammed you back down to the bed. “No peeking, princess.”

You nodded, finally feeling his skin on yours. His touch felt so much better than the rough material of his gloves. Based on the glance you got, his hands were big, but smooth. Something you didn’t expect from him. You expected rough and dirty hands, not soft and manicured fingers.

All of your pensive thoughts were scrambled when you felt his finger push inside of you, quite easily with how wet you were at this point. He groaned at the feeling of your warm insides, eager to be inside you. A second finger slid in beside the first, curling upwards against the soft spot he knew got a reaction from you. You tensed, legs spreading further with a whine at his touch.

Warmth spread over your legs and belly, up to your chest and face. His fingers squelched as he fucked them into you, curled upwards at every right moment. Your bedsheets felt so soft against your hands as you gripped onto them, eyes closed and mouth open, wanton moans escaping you. While you weren’t focused, he slid a hand underneath his cloak, palming himself through his jeans.

He grumbled something softly, something you didn’t hear.

“Huh?” You asked, that small word the only thing you could muster between moans.

“Wanna taste you.” He said louder, grinding his hips into his hand. “You're gonna be a good girl and keep your eyes shut, okay?” He asked, but you felt a threatening undertone present in his words. You nodded quickly, but whined when his fingers left you. You felt yourself clench around nothing,feeling empty without him inside you.

You shut your eyes tightly, hearing him move to the window to shut the curtain. Your hands were clammy as they pressed over your eyes, you had to make sure you wouldn’t peek. You wanted to see what he looked like, but didn’t want to end up in the paper as the newest Ghostface victim.

For a minute, you waited, then suddenly, an eruption of pleasure as you felt his mouth on you, tongue running up your clit, hands pressing your thighs down against the bed. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew down to grip his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried to gather what little information you could from the feeling. He felt sweaty, but his hair was soft, a little bit longer. But that’s all you could gather. You scrunched your face to emphasize the fact that your eyes were closed.

He sucked your clit into his mouth as two large fingers pushed inside of you. You let out a loud moan, mouth hanging open and back arching up off of the bed. “Holy shit…” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. He groaned, squeezing your thighs tight with his bare hands, to your delight, both gloves were off. He was becoming way more comfortable with you.

You felt yourself get close, you felt tingles on your thighs and up your waist, all the way up to your arms. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you felt so good and you couldn’t think straight. At that moment, you wanted to see him. You needed to know who he was. Desperately, you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m…I…” you whined.

“You’re gonna cum?” He asked, voice breathy with small pants. You tensed up. His voice changer wasn’t on. He sounded so familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It was bugging you, but you couldn’t focus on it too long as your orgasm overtook your body, gushing over his fingers and legs trembling as a damn near shriek left your mouth. You felt like you couldn’t see, your ears were ringing and you felt like you had just been beat up. You decided to look. You had to. His voice. You knew him.

You opened your eyes to see the man you’d been fucking the last few weeks. His lips and chin glistening with your cum, face flushed and soft pants escaping his plumped lips, hair sweaty and tousled from your pulling, falling in front of those gorgeous brown eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. You stared in shock. “….B-Billy?”

[cutegirlmayra]

Prompt Amy is thinking about her friend Gamma. She really misses him and wishes he was around. All her friends try to make her feel better and their antics are enough to cheer her up.

(This is a preview image, it does not belong to me! Support the official artist! (x))

Preview Video for prompt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbtulMhVdq8 and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEOn7Y6wE5c for reference of English lines, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFjgepflorc for reference of Japanese lines combined with English dub. It was wonderful to go back, I had no idea how much depth was within Gamma’s story, and I’m so glad I got to go back to my roots of character research and discover so much of a profound ‘secret’ almost about him! <3 I combined both the game, animes, and their separate translations to try and piece together a complete story for him. Enjoy~ As I did while writing his beautiful ��hero’s sacrifice’ story out! What a happy ending he truly had! Though, bittersweet still :)b

Prompts are Shut Down, I don’t know when I’ll ever open them again, it was just way too much. Sorry, Fam :(

Prompt:

‘Excavation duty, again?’

‘Not only was Knuckles all about saving the relics of his people, which, I totally understand that! It’s just…’

Amy cautiously picked up what looked like a disgustingly soggy robotic eye-socket that was in the depths of the jungle, and sticking her tongue out while shaking her head, also shook her hand to dispose of its remnants into a black garbage bag. ‘Why did I have to be assigned garbage duty..? What am I? The cleaning lady?’

She sighed and continued in her labors, growing weary as the sun beat down with no gentle cloud to shelter her at all.

She continued to use her hammer to jab through the debris of vines and mossy flora, hitting and moving it away without trying to cause too much of a disturbance. She had one foot through the figurative ‘wall’ of entangling vines that made her swing her Piko Piko Hammer around aimlessly, letting out small disgruntled sounds of effort and discomfort before falling chin-fist to the fertile green ground.

She looked so annoyed, gruffing out a puff of frustrated air in a growl as she looked up and saw a choir of frogs croaking in amusement at her fumble.

Grumbling with a look of exasperation on her face, she slowly got one gloved hand under her vibrant red and white-striped hula-hooped dress and continued onward.

Stumbling once more over something, this time metallic in nature, and ringing out a painfully high-pitched tone–She caught herself from falling and stared into the void of vast, endless jungle.

A typical girlie-girl may be done by now… but Amy Rose wasn’t one to easily give up.

‘After all our many adventures… I’m not gonna let this slow me down.’ She kicked whatever was behind her, hearing the tone again, as the frogs on the swerving tree branches above hunched down in precaution at its strange ‘cry’.

Their big ol’ eyes blinked in intervals, and one dared to croak his nerves.

She got up, dusting herself off again, then gave up on tidying herself up when she knew she’d be stumbling about–picking up Eggman scraps from his abandoned robots anyway along the way–and turned to gasp at what she discovered.

It… looked like the haul of a large ship! Just one section of it, torn so fully it appeared to be peeled like a banana!

“What on..? Oh!” She put a hand up by her mouth as she looked to see Eggman’s insignia… “The Eggcarrier!? Is this where it’s been rotting the whole time!?” She took trepid steps around the flattened metal she had tripped over, before seeing the large gaping ‘cave-mouth’ of its haul… darkened but covered with vines to shield the light.

Squinting, she moved the vines out of the way and cried out in alarm as she stepped back while many monkeys and other Flickys of differing species all hopped, leaped, or flew out of the space. “Ahhh!!!” Her eyes went small as she covered her head and ducked.

After the chaotic common finally quieted down, she peeked up and looked around. “Phew…” She put her hands to her chest, smiling somewhat. ‘Looks like it’s been deserted for ages… I don’t think any robots are still actively patrolling it.’ She concluded, and headed on into its hollow basin…

She called it that, because she could hear running water, and stepping further within, she looked down to see splashing water from her footfalls. “... Did it crash to create an unnatural waterfall?” She looked to the side, remembering seeing a large water pocket traveling down in a couple of diverging streams from the cliffs and mountains up ahead…

‘When it crashed here, it must have disrupted the local ecosystem… then seemingly became apart of the landscape over time.’ She concluded, seeing how there were birds nests and grass sprouting through the crevices below her… maybe even natural ways to clean the water by the looks of how clear and reflective the water appeared to be.

‘The cycle of life… Eggman’s destruction… to nature’s remedies…’ She looked in awe, seeing how the whole of the ship was transformed by nature taking over, ruling in its rightful place among the gorgeous jungle peaks and flat lands.

‘Swampy… muddy… but at least it’s my home.’ She gave a small smile to the side of her, ‘I’m proud of you… Mother Nature.’

She continued to compliment its small takeover of Eggman’s ugly mug with vines hanging like tapestry before her foot naturally hit something on the ground below her.

“Hmm?” A black rock?

She narrowed her eyes… “Hmmmmmmmm….” She flexed out her black garbage bag’s opening. “Em-hmm..!” She figured she knew what this was. Scrap to heap away and clear from the area. Tails was looking for any information he could gather for his research into how Dr. Eggman’s scientific genius has evolved over the years, plus with the restoration aspects, it was also Tails’s humble way of contributing to predicting Eggman’s next technological threats.

‘Smart, but can anyone really study Eggman’s erratic behavior and perceive into the mind of the insane?’ She casually quipped, smirking at her own insult humor towards him, but as she brushed the dirt and grim away…

She gasped again,... She had seen this robot before.

‘What was he called..? Beta..?’ Her eyes flashed with recognition.

She dropped the garbage bag and hurried to the other ‘large boulder rock’ beside it.

Tearing through the rubble of pebble, the drapes of leafs, and ripping off and through the strangling roots of nearby shrubbery… she found him.

“Oh, Gamma…” Her eyes welled up, she was so new to learning robots could feel back then… or at least, understand and compute emotions… Their AI beginning to advance beyond Metal Sonic or even Orbot and Cubot… predating those two, of course, but still…

She had her hands drop the thriving green vines from her hands, falling to her knees.

In the roar of the waterfall, the chaotic cries of the living jungle life, and that shallow wind that moved through the hollow mouth of this wrecked, mobile spaceship…

She grieved once again.

Her nose sniffled, and she used her hand and arm to try and clear it from the swelling of emotions…

She reached down and began to try and drag the empty vessel that once held a truly noble, brave, and heroic heart… but it got snagged on something.

‘Hmm? What could that be?’ She thought it another vine, gently lowering the fallen soldier and moving away further obstruction of leaves and dirt to see… his hand was still holding his brother’s.

“Ohhh…” She covered her mouth, “I can’t leave you all… can I?” She looked to Gamma, “They’re as much a part of you as Lily Bird’s family was apart of each other…” She gently looked at the rusted metal… seeing absolutely no life.

Puffing up her cheeks, looking in her defiant and signature look, she mimed rolling up her nonexistent sleeves and heaved and ho’d!

She found all four of them, as well as some other useful bits she put in the garbage bag, and made her way back to Tails’s workshop.

Understandably, she was exhausted, and Tails was equally shocked.

She explained herself, huffing and puffing in her efforts to preserve their legacy, she asked if Tails could look at a memory chip she had found in Gamma.

“It’s pretty badly burned… do you think it’s… melted all his memories away?” She put her hands together, as though to pray there was still something remaining of him… a memento even, of his brave deeds.

“Hmm…” Tails didn’t have a connection to Gamma like she did, but one couldn’t possibly fathom her dismay when he put his thumbs against the opening of the gaps, and cracked it open like a disc.

“AHHH!!” She shrieked, “Tails, why!?!?!”

“Calm down, calm down..! Look! Hehe~” He leaned back, worried she would retaliate, but sweatdropped sweetly at her care for the old robot. He smiled sheepishly, hoping she would let him explain.

Inside, he turned the opened case to reveal a circuit board, shining and golden… it had remained untouched… unsoiled by the long years of wasting away in the jungle… perfectly preserved within it’s metallic, rusted case.

“No damage. I can boot this right up to my computer and you can access the memory files!” He cheerfully comforted her, as her eyes shook with twinkling delight at the prospect of seeing his story through his own eyes.

“Oh, Tails… Don’t scare me like that.” She smiled warmly, walking into his garage with her hand over her heart, trying to slow it from its panic, and sat in the swivel chair.

“I’ve got all your useful pieces to look through from your excavation site. So you can sit back and relax for now. I promise, I won’t scrap Gamma’s brothers.”

She nodded, “Thank you, Tails… I know this sounds kinda selfish…” She worriedly raised her shoulders, a bit bashful.

“Not at all!” Tails readily replied to comfort any of her fears. “He must have meant something to you. I vaguely remember you stopping Sonic from destroying him… So… Yeah! He’ll be all yours, okay?” Tails held up a finger to his mouth, then waved her off after traveling briefly down memory lane.

Now it was her turn… to take a longer, scenic route through it…

She clicked to open the file through the mouse, and selected the first folder.

From what she had gathered, Gamma saw how hard his teammates had tried complete their tasks, only proving that every effort was ‘useless’ if it wasn’t done ‘correctly’.

Having no concept of fear, he continued on, before seeing what became of those who were considered ‘useless’ to Dr. Eggman…

Why did he have to go through that wrong door? And why was it so hard to hear this Pink Hedgehog’s words?

Once he took what Eggman wanted of the Flicky, her and the Bird would be… disposed of.

Was there truly programming outside of direct orders from ‘Master’?

Amy watched as he continued to question his existence, on if things really needed to be done for ‘survival’ or simply because ‘useless things’ had a right to exist too?

Upon deleting his programming, and rounding up his tossed friends, he never had any concept of what fueled him onwards other than the right to live… freely.

All things as they should be… all those Frogs were beautiful and cool, like his friends had mentioned… Friends… Sonic stopped his programming, which was to destroy robots, and listened to the pleading of the Pink Hedgehog… his friend.

Gamma then realized, during the last fight with his ‘brother’ in arms, that even he couldn’t survive… if what he now believed was true, then all creatures needed a ‘guardian’, like Chaos, to protect their existence no matter how ‘useless’ they appeared to be.

Because all things had a purpose, simply to live without ‘Master’s.

Beta had been transformed into what Eggman saw as ‘more likely to be useful’, which Gamma found disturbing. It was equally as brutal as fashioning him into another ‘being’, and he was uncertain if he could save his ‘friend’ any longer.

When he beheld that tiny Bird pleading with its eyes, something fluttered within him… he figured an awakening to humanity, but it was so much more than that.

He could feel that same fluttering within his metallic core for Beta, which wasn’t fully felt with the other E-Series… He had… some connection to this machine. To this… friend.

He had to fight him, but he didn’t want to destroy him.

All his attempts for Beta to change his programming, like he had, were in vain.

When Amy stepped in, during when he felt this first direct connection with the Birdie she titled: “Lily”, she had stated that the creature wanted the best for him.

‘Best’..?

Was this that feeling? He wanted the ‘best’ for Beta? What would that be?

If he destroyed Beta, would that be the ‘Best’ he was looking for?

If he kept Beta operational, but still defeated him, Eggman would likely tear him apart again, or discard him like the others…

That, he knew, was not the ‘Best’ he wanted for him.

When he battled other Eggman robots, he noticed that Flickies would emerge and pop or fly out of them… He had computed that the Flicky inside him, must have some connection to both “Lily” and Beta.

He computed, during that awful fight, that he–as well–must be destroyed.

Thus, can all their ‘Friend’s truly survive.

Amy watched as his resolve was absolute, and he was prepared to sacrifice his own robotic existence to save the “Lily Friends”.

Amy began to have tears well-up, seeing how hard he fought Beta, and how determined he was to protect and save his friends…

A true heroic act of bravery, a ‘friend’ indeed…

She wiped her eyes, believing she would have done the same if the truth had been presented to her in that fashion.

She had no idea… how much she had influenced him, to rebel against his programming like that… to see and reflect on the true meaning of ‘life’.

His experience with the spirit of Tikal led him to wanting to free the defenseless animals, and fight for those weaker than he.

Amy had called him a ‘Bully’, and he designated that title to Eggman, which she again cried over and had to collect herself to watch more files.

The memories of the Flicky within him stirred… Things his supercomputer couldn’t compute.

He had tried to survive… to work towards a good goal… But he found something greater in sacrifice, allowing another imprisoned life to continue on.

She only looked up when she heard the scratchy vocal recording of her voice,... she was so young back then.

“Stop it!” the tape played with greyish, frizzing lines upon the computer, showing the memories were somewhat decaying from time… “You both are..!”

‘I KNOW, PINK HEDGEHOG.’ Gamma had said in his mind, ‘WE ARE… FRIENDS.’

“You’ve done so much for Lily and me… You were able to save them, thank you!” 

He willingly held his ‘brother’s hand… as the world came down, and their bodies exploded to open up a way for the Flickies to return to their ‘Family’, a concept he knew nothing of.

Except… by the memories… of his now freed Bird.

Amy shook to her core, realizing that after the explosion, even after the Flickies had left, he still was functioning enough to hear her last remarks…

She covered her mouth.

“We’ll be friends from now on! Oh, Mr. Robot… I’ll never forget you.”

How long..? How long had he been ‘functioning’ to hear her..?

Waiting in that jungle of rubbish… just… waiting for someone to find him? His friends?

“Now you and your brother can live together again!” Her voice on the machine recording was too much… She got up, putting her hands on the console of the computer’s keys, and realizing she had accidentally ‘abandoned’ the robot, not realizing he was still desperately hanging on to what little power he had left… what little ‘life’ he still retained…

The sad but poetic tale sent her into a spiral, before a chirp came at the top of the garage.

She looked up, her eyes widening.

A single pink bird..?

It seemed to almost smile in empathy towards her… how long had it been perched there..?

Later, Tails had tried to comfort her, but she begged and pleaded for him to try and give the robots a second chance. “Maybe… they could be assistants?”

“Robots? Working for me?” Tails kinda chuckled at that thought, “What am I? The ‘Good’ Doctor?”

As Amy leaves for her own home, Tails sees the same Pink Bird fly over to land on Gamma’s remains, smiling to him as well, flapping his wings as though showing some familiarity to it.

Tails’s eyes squint, but he puts a hand up to his chin and smiles, deciding on something…

Later, Sonic surprised Amy by saying they were going somewhere. Thinking it a date, she got dressed up only to be rushed to Tails’s place, which made her a bit disappointed before seeing him open the garage, going–”Ta-dah!!!”

Overjoyed, Amy scrambled out of Sonic’s arms, and raced up to the E-Series Robots.

Flickies were gathered all around them, as though they were their new guardians, as Gamma held his gun to in his arm, pointed to the side and away from her, and looked down.

“GREETINGS, TINY PINK HEDGEHOG… AMY ROSE.” He… He knew her name, now…

The Pink Flicky chirped in a beautiful cascade of notes, flying up in a spiral with fluttering wings as though to say, ‘Surprise!’ as well.

Amy leaped up to Gamma, as Sonic rubbed under his nose…

Thanks to Amy, he knew not all robots were meant to be seen just by their surface levels… Though, it didn’t mean he’d stop smashing them to get to their ‘Flicky Hearts’ inside..!

But… Seeing how she embraced Gamma’s resurrection, and how she shook each of his friends hands… He smiled.

He put his hands on his hips, as a Lily Bird landed on his shoulder, chirping and fluttering her wings before nudging his face with her beak, as though nuzzling him.

He winked towards her, “It’s nice… to not have to say goodbye, isn’t it?”

He looked out at the happy picture again, seeing Lily Bird fly back to the Pink bird and their friend to make a trio of Flickies, flying to cover Amy with greetings as well.

“... A hero deserves… a just dues ending.” He relaxed on one leg, letting his other arm dangle down… Giving Gamma his happy ‘hero’s ending…

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I���m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send. Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

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[nanoland]

Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

main characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve/Michael 

summary: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Violence, gun violence, trauma, dehumanization, outdoor sex. 

0 

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?” 

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There���s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.”

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0 

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?” 

0 

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”  

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.” 

0 

Bombshell curls. The only way to celebrate victory.

“Should I even ask why your hair smells like burning plastic?” asked Britney, a sixty-four year old veteran stylist with spectacles and a bright blue bob. She’d worked in Hollywood since she was seventeen and her skilled hands, according to rumour, had tended to Viola Davis herself.

Mazikeen flipped through a magazine with the hand that wasn’t getting its nails painted red-gold by two assistants down on their knees, as intensely focused as if they were touching up The Last Supper. “Blew up some jet skis. Don’t worry about it.”

Picking up the curling iron, Britney said, “That handsome guy you and Eve came in with… new boyfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not in a million years. He’s my intern.”

Eve had only wanted a trim and, as soon as it was done, had dragged Michael away to shop for books and shoes. She was trying, without much subtlety, to work out what he liked; what he did for fun; if he was even capable of having fun. Waste of time, in Mazikeen’s opinion, especially considering that before the end of the week he’d probably run away to some dark hole where he could get back to wallowing in his bitterness. But maybe not. Eve clearly had hope and Mazikeen trusted her judgement.

As the assistants moved on to her other hand, her phone buzzed.

Glancing up to meet Britney’s gaze in the mirror, Mazikeen said, “Get that for me? My nails are wet and it’s probably Eve. Word’s got out what happens to all other humans who call me on a Saturday.”

The older woman’s blue eyebrows bounced as she picked up the phone. “Might be that tasty boss of yours!”

“Nope,” she muttered, old unhappiness flaring hot in her heart. “He only ever calls when he wants me to do something and right now, there’s nothing he can’t do himself.”

Britney held the phone up in front of her face.

There was a message from Linda.

Charlie’s missing his Auntie Maze – see u for dinner Tuesday? J <3

“Uh – are you crying?” asked Britney.

“No!” she snapped. “Just… shut up. Reply for me. Say yes. And add a knife emoji. I always use knife emojis.”

Just then, a white woman with long brown hair and skinny jeans strode purposefully into the salon.

Britney tutted and held up a hand. “Ma’am? I’m sorry, but Ms Smith has booked the entire…”

She trailed off as the woman’s eyes flashed red.

“Chantinelle,” Mazikeen greeted, spinning the chair round and crossing her legs regally. “It’s okay, Britney. She’s a friend. Well – an ally.”

Gravel-voiced, like she smoked heavily, the other demon drawled, “I’m touched, your great and gracious Majesty.”

Mazikeen snickered. “Bitch, get over here.”

With a smirk, Chantinelle marched over and planted a fierce kiss on her cheek.

“What news from Hell?” Mazikeen asked her sister.

Chantinelle briefed her while Britney and the others finished up her curls and manicure. They spoke in Lilim, Chantinelle parking her denim-clad butt on the vanity next to an arsenal of combs and keeping one eye on the door. She’d already tried twice to convince Mazikeen that a queen needed a bodyguard, to no avail.

When their meeting was concluded, Britney said, “So you’re from Holland, right? Oh! It’s a lovely country. My cousin lives there and she’s always telling me to visit.”

(Britney knew they weren’t from Holland. Britney knew they weren’t from Earth. Britney was one of those people who coped with uncomfortable realities like demons in her workplace by ignoring them.)

“Will you be coming home soon?” Chantinelle asked before she left.

Studying her reflection – avoiding her sister’s gaze – Mazikeen said, “Mmm. Yeah. Soon. Just got a few things to finish up here.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. The family misses you. I mean – it’s been years, y’know?”

“I know. I do.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Britney commented after Chantinelle had gone. “How come you never talk about them?”

Mazikeen handed over a wad of blood-spattered cash. “Eh. After a while, I figured out that nobody likes it when I do.”

She began making her way across the mall to Eve’s favourite shoe shop, then stopped when she approached the arcade and heard her girlfriend’s laugh over the beeps and buzzes of various games.

Unsurprised, she wandered in and found her on the Dance Dance Revolution platform, barefoot and skirt twirling as she beat the shit out of someone’s high score, surrounded by a crowd of cheering, applauding onlookers.

Michael stood off to the side, clutching three bulging shopping bags and looking mortified.

“I couldn’t stop her,” he hissed to Mazikeen. “What the hell? What the actual hell? I thought you were trying to maintain a reputation on this crummy rock! What’re your enemies going to think if this is how your allies behave in public?”

“I figure they’ll think something like, ‘Oh my God, she’s tapping that? I am going to literally die of jealousy’,” Mazikeen said, kicking off her stilettos and handing them to him. “Go fetch us some bottled water, wimp. We’ll be here for a while.”

Eve’s competitor on the adjacent platform yelped as Mazikeen shoved him off and took his place.

“Hi, pretty lady,” said Eve, her eyes sparkling. “You know I’ve been dancing for millions of years, right?”

Mazikeen grinned at her and tossed back her bombshell curls. “Bring it, beautiful.”  

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Michael blush bright red. 

0 

What was he doing here?

“We are fifteen miles over the speed limit!”

Mazikeen cackled and drove faster. In the seat beside her, Eve punched the air and turned up the radio until Michael thought Rihanna’s voice would burst even his divine eardrums. (Contrary to his brother’s accusations, he did, in fact, enjoy some types of music. Just not when it was loud or fast-paced.)

“May I remind you of a crucial fact?” he demanded, having to shout to be heard. “It’s not me who’ll die if this thing flips! Angel, remember? You two are the ones who’ll be splattered all over the road! Hello? Is anybody listening to me?”

“I’m a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine,” Mazikeen sang.

The desert outside the cherry-red convertible they’d stolen in Las Vegas was a sickening blur and he hated it. Not that he’d never travelled this fast – though he was slower than just about all his siblings in the air, he could still outpace a jet. But flying under his own power couldn’t be compared to being trapped in this hideous human death trap under the command of a demon and a madwoman.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, this time to himself, gripping his seatbelt with both hands like it was the neck of an angry serpent. “Whatever happens. Even if we crash. They’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” called Eve, turning to look at him, squinting. “Are you really not having fun? Maze! Slow down! He’s not having fun.”

Mazikeen groaned but brought them back to a less terrifying percentage of light speed, while Eve undid her seatbelt and climbed into the back with Michael.

He sputtered. “Jesus H. Christ – you’re not supposed to do that while the vehicle is moving. Rules exist for a reason, goddammit.”

“I’m sorry we freaked you out,” Eve told him, with… confusing sincerity.

None of his siblings had ever apologised for frightening him, Lucifer least of all (“Aww – don’t be so nervous, brother!” and a golden laugh from the brave, adventurous Morningstar after he’d enticed Michael to fly with him into a hurricane for fun and the noise and sight of it had made his twin cry).

When Michael was young, he’d assumed that was because apologies were for lesser beings, like mortals – except that when he’d discovered his latent talent for underhanded pranks, his siblings had all turned around and demanded apologies from him. The pranks had become progressively mean-spirited after that.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop – for the punchline – he said, carefully, “It’s fine.”

The wind had blown Eve’s hair all over the place. As she brushed it out of her eyes, he was reminded that today she’d chosen to wear one of her thin white summer dresses, this one low-cut enough to make it clear that that was all she was wearing.

Now mischievous, she winked at him. “But you know… if I made a habit of following those rules you like so much, I’d still be married and bored out of my mind. Wanna kiss?”

He nearly jumped out of the car.

“Uh,” he croaked.

His gaze flickered past Eve’s inquisitive face to the back of Mazikeen’s head. How long did he have? How many milliseconds left before she turned around and tore out his throat in a fit of frenzied jealousy?

“Hell, yeah!” Mazikeen cheered, throwing up the horns. “One of you take a picture for me. Or, better yet, move over so I can see you in the rear view mirror.”

Eve’s chin tilted downwards as she examined Michael. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like he’s into it. Er – yikes. Actually, I think he’s gonna throw up. Might wanna pull over, babe.”

“I’m not going to throw up! I just need… just need air. Could you sit back for a moment?” he hissed.

She did so and he got his breathing under control. Crap, his shoulder hurt so much today.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, fidgeting. “I didn’t mean to-…”

“Is this because of him?” Michael snarled, suddenly furious.

“What?”

“Him! Lucifer! He dumped you, yeah? And now you’re – what, trying to get back at him by hitting on me? Or is it just because I look like him so I’m the best substitute you can get, or-…”

She slapped him.

It hurt.

(It really did. What? Since when did getting hit by mortals hurt?)

Mazikeen whistled approvingly.

“No,” said Eve, half-growling. “I’m not like that. I don’t use people like that, Michael.”

He touched the part of his face where her skin had met his. It felt hot. Tingly. He swallowed. “Um – right. Got it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The anger in her eyes subsided. “Good. Now, would you like to kiss me or not? It’s fine if you don’t want to. You’ll still be part of the team. This is just for fun.”

Feeling oafish and off-kilter, he gestured at Mazikeen. “Won’t she mind?”

“Nope!” Mazikeen volunteered without hesitation.

Eve, exasperated, huffed, “I already asked her if she’d mind. Do you really think I’d put the offer on the table if I hadn’t? Whatever they say about me in the Silver City, I’m neither frivolous nor disloyal. I didn’t go behind Adam’s back when I fell in love with your brother; I told him to his face what I was doing.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

“Because he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t care. Adam was a decent man who didn’t love me at all. But Maze does, and I love her, and we’ve decided this is something we’re both okay with.”

“Yeah, most demons are poly,” Mazikeen told him. “As long as everyone’s on board and on the same page, you can hook up with whoever you like.”

“Last chance: kiss or no kiss?” said Eve.

She was close enough now for him to smell her perfume. His chest felt tight. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Okay. How about wagers? I bet you anything I’m the best kisser you’ve ever met. Or requests? Please, please kiss me, Michael. Or-…”

She was so warm. Her breath flowing into his mouth felt like drinking hot chocolate on a Winter’s night, sugary heat poured down his throat and filling up his whole chest.

His bones seemed to melt. He slid down the seat, half-pushed, until he lay almost flat with her on top of him, cradling his face in her hands, her thumbs making slow, comforting circles on his jaw.

“Ghnnff-fu-fuck,” he slurred.

That he was hard, and had been hard ever since he’d noticed how low-cut her dress was, seemed almost irrelevant in the face of far more interesting observations, like the soft grunts she made or the way her breasts felt pressed tight against him, until she slid a thigh between his legs.

He cried out. Arched.

“There you go,” she purred against his neck.

Elegant and effortless, she took off her shoes and her panties, and slid down onto his cock with a soft, fluttering sigh. Grabbed his hand and raised it to cover one of her nipples.

Just before he came, he opened his eyes and gazed up, and the sun had moved behind her, draining all but her edges of definition, and the wind had picked up her hair again and sent it billowing up and out, like dark wings. Like his wings.

“Michael! Ah!”

The car stopped.

“Huh,” said Mazikeen. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

She pointed. Panting, they both followed her finger.

Across the sky, from one horizon to the next, the clouds had arranged themselves into the words

I LOVE YOU DETECTIVE !!!!

-LM

“Oh, crud,” said Eve. 

0 

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?” 

0 

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”  

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda. 

0  

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[viridian-angel]

Black Pearl [Chapter 1]

Series: Original [Sara]

Genre: Thriller

Characters: Original [Rights Reserved]

Wordcount: 2,306

Prologue to this chapter here 

“Boss, you’re back!”

A round of cheerful hollers rose from the room as Sara entered, followed by a few confused mumbles and curious glances.

Held close to her chest, a frazzled-looking, skittish, scruffy black cat trembled in her arms, eyes darting around the room. Everybody gave it at least one look before returning their gaze back to Sara, who was currently more stone-faced than her typically charismatic and cool self.

“Uh… Boss? What’s with the cat?” one of her yakuza clansmen asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Ain’t that typical, goes out on a hit, comes back with a stray,” another joked, laughing to himself and stretching in his chair. The man behind him scooted closer in his chair, letting out a not so quiet whisper of “Isn’t that how she found you, dipshit?”, prodding him and laughing.

A massive man, about as tall as her and twice as wide approached her, reaching his arms out with palms open. “Here, I’ll take it, Boss. You still got blood on yer hands, you outta wash up.” Sara stared him in the eyes, conveying a silent message that he nodded in response to. She carefully offloaded the cat into his arms, the man holding it close to his shirtless, tattooed chest.

Sara took a deep breath and took a moment to stretch, clearing her throat. Everyone else in the room immediately fell silent and all eyes fell on her.

“Matano’s dead. Be on the lookout for retaliation– anyone loitering around the building, cars parked a little too long outside with no one coming out of ‘em. So on and so forth, you know the drill. As far as a lot of people are concerned, we’re even now. He put out the hit, he got hit back, no extra collateral racked up in the process. It’s about as cut and dry as you can get, we should be good– but you never know.”

Everyone in the room began to chatter quietly to themselves, picking straws as to who would be doing what and when. One of them spoke up above the rest, idly flicking the toothpick held between his teeth.

“’Grats Boss, but where’d the cat come from?”

“Heard it mewling from a janky old abandoned lot after I finished my business. It’s way too cold and wet out there right now for a stray to survive, so…”

She scratched the side of her head, just sort of ending the sentence there.

“Anyway, I need to wash up.” she continued, preemptively rolling up her sleeves. “Kentaro,” she addressed the large man, “Bring the cat to my room and just take care of ‘em for a little bit. As soon as I’m not covered in dry blood I’ll pay a visit to a convenience store and get some cat food for them.”

He nodded without another word, letting the cat have some wiggle room and shift back and forth between his massive hands.

Sara scrubbed her hands thoroughly in her bathroom, the dried blood on her hands flaking off and falling down the sink drain. She splashed some water into her face for good measure, drying her eyes with a hand towel and staring into the mirror.

“You’ve been dealt a real shitty hand–”

She shook her head. What could he have even meant by that? The implication was that something big was about to go down– but she hadn’t heard so much as a little blip on the radar regarding anything huge in the works. Then again, her clan was very much detached from any huge alliance– she was on her own, an outcast followed by punks. No one to answer to– but no one else on her side beside the people who pledged their loyalty to her. So, no one tended to give her friendly tidbits advice. Mainly, they just flung lead and shrapnel her way.

Cupping her hands, she gathered and poured water down her thick, silver hair. She worked little specks of red out of it the best she could, meticulous in her cleaning.

“All eyes are on you now, kid.”

More than usual? She was always going to be viewed as an unstable upstart to every other clan, and that much wasn’t new to her. What could she have possibly done? Something that he was going to do instead of her… something that he was sure of. What could he possibly be sure that she’d do?

She did a quick comb through her hair, pulling a hair-band from her pocket and tying it up into a neat ponytail.

“Guess I’ll just have to bide my time and find out…” she muttered quietly, stepping outside and walking into the main room again. Quick count– two, four, eight, sixteen… and Kentaro makes seventeen, in her office with that cat. Everyone here. Two of them were on relaxing back in their chairs while watching multiple camera feeds set around the surrounding streets and buildings. Five of them were playing cards and laughing together, waiting for their turns to do the basic tasks the others were currently taking care of. Three were doing routine check-ups and tune-ups on their small cache of weapons, four of them had taken point at the only reliable ways to enter the building, just out of view. The last two were hanging out in the kitchen attached to the main room, cooking a large meal for the rest of the group.

She couldn’t help but smile a little at it all. Despite not having any real instructions from her, they always managed to settle into the natural rhythm of work to keep the place safe. Sara knew she could trust each one of them, and it was the kind of peace that she always doubted she’d ever really be able to have.

“Boss!” one at the table shouted, reaching to the ground and flinging a raincoat up at her in one smooth motion. She instinctively caught it in her hands, earning a little dramatic “Ooooh!” and applause from the rest of the table.

“Figured you’d want to actually be a little dry when you go out there this time.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Michiya.”

The woman stepped into the rainy streets, now properly protected from the downpour the weather had turned into. Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough that this would turn pretty dangerous for anyone just trying to hang out outside. It was really late at this point, so most anyone would simply be sleeping at home. Anyone with a more… typical job, that is.

Sara looked around, eyeing the surrounding area for anything suspicious. Almost like clockwork, she saw a car parked across the street start up, lights flaring up.

She didn’t flinch, merely walking forward with an unsettling, unblinking glare focused on the car’s tinted passenger window. Within a few steps, the car’s tires begun to spin and screech against the street, quickly speeding off into the wet roads.

“Great. That’s real reassuring.”

Sara put her raincoat's hood up, taking more relaxed steps out into the rain. Whatever the case for someone to be watching her currently, she’d have to trust her crew to be able to handle themselves for now. She did have a hungry cat she needed to take care of right now.

There were few times in her life she had been happier for 24-hour convenience stores. It was a true boon to the people who didn’t typically get to live out their lives during the day– such was true for her now, and it was back when she was a temporarily homeless teenager. It didn’t take long for her to pick out a decent amount of cat supplies, pay for it, and get out.

From the crowd of people waiting for her outside, it looked like getting back home would be another matter entirely.

A large group of fourteen men formed a semi-circle a couple of meters away from her, all equipped with a range of close-range weapons from bats to katanas. Her eyes narrowed, observing all of them and making mental notes to herself.

“I don’t suppose you guys came to help a lady carry her groceries, did you?” she commented, forcing a laugh and shrugging her shoulders.

The most nicely dressed one of the bunch attempted to light a cigarette, not offering a response as much as his frustrated noises over the rain.

“Tsk. Real shitty weather tonight, huh?” he said dryly, giving up and tossing his now soggy cigarette onto the ground.

“Yeah.”

A tense silence fell over them before the man started to speak up again.

“So, Matano finally bit the dust, huh?” he muttered rhetorically, leaning against his car and sighing. “Well, I suppose that’s what he gets. Not really a smart idea to go starting shit when we got more important things to be doin’.”

Sara remained silent, keeping her eyes trained on everyone she could to be ready for an attack at any moment. The man straightened himself up, walking with a casual pace up to Sara. He stopped about half a meter in front of her, hands in his pockets. Looking her up and down, he let out a short whistle. Sara’s left eye twitched.

“Well, they weren’t kidding when they said you were big, huh?”

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” she said, an unsettling grin spreading across her face.

“Nah, not really.” he replied, looking past her at the bag of cat supplies she was holding. “Just Matano’s soon to be replacement. You really opened up a spot for me on the ol’ corporate ladder. Say, what’d you got there in the bag–”

The second he began to reach for the bag, Sara’s free hand lashed out and tightly wrapped around his throat. He let out a startled sputter and wheeze, his hands instinctively latching onto Sara’s to try and pry it free. No matter how hard he attempted to, he didn’t get so much as a budge.

The men behind him stumbled a bit in place, quickly readying their weapons and inching closer.

Sara squeezed tighter, eliciting another pained grunt from the man in her grasp. “Name.” she commanded, her eyes hard at work keeping tabs on each yakuza as they moved forward.  

“N… Noboru…” he managed to choke out, relinquishing his grip on her hand and waving hurriedly at the men behind him. “F-Fucking stop moving you idiots! She could break my throat right now…”

“Okay, Noboru. I’ll fill you in on any details you might’ve missed. Matano died because he tried to kill me. I’m not looking to start shit, but when people try to hurt me, I can’t help but lash out. I don’t care if you’re his replacement, or you end up being the big bad boss of your clan. You don’t piss me off, stay out of our turf, and leave us alone, we’ll get along just fine.”

“G… Got it…”

Sara stared at him in silence for a few moments, before unceremoniously letting go of his windpipe. He sputtered and coughed, massaging his throat with a hand and stepping back. “J-Jesus, alright then… you really outta loosen up, lady. I thought you were supposed to be the goody-two-shoes pushover of the patriarchs around here…”

“I’m nice to those who deserve it. People who come up to me with their entourage of goons to small talk don’t really fit that description.”

“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t come here for a fight anyway. They’re just protection, really. More specifically, we’ve been searching around her for something…”

He scratched the back of his head, a knowing smirk on his face as he eyed Sara’s bag. “More specifically, Matano was around these parts looking for a little stray cat… it was pretty important, actually. I don’t suppose you happened to see one after you, uh… offed him, right?”

Sara kept a calm poker-face and shook her head. “No. Do you think I’d be looking for a cat in this weather?”

“Nah, I guess not. Just, you know… you happened to have a bunch of cat food and whatnot in that bag, and it seemed a little late to be going shopping for that kind of stuff.”

“I ran out of food. My cat’s hungry and yelling about it, so I went out.”

“Oh yeah? What color is it?”

“White.”

“What kind of cat?

“Persian.”

“What’s his name?”

“Yuuto.”

The rapid-fire exchanged paused for a moment, and he scratched his chin.

“Huh… so, a white Persian cat named Yuuto… how old is she?”

“He.”

His smirk widened, scratching the back of his head again and laughing. “Ah yeah, I’ve got a bad short term memory, sorry.” he said, casting Sara a cold glare despite the smile plastered on his face. “But you’d remember that for your own cat, of course…”

Sara returned the glare, but any trace of a smile was absent on her face. “Yeah. Are we done here now?” Sara hissed between clenched teeth, gripping her bag tighter.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to hold you from you cat any longer. Youta, was it?”

“Yuuto.”

“Right, right, sorry, sorry. I’ll getting out of your hair now.”

He opened his car door, taking a step inside before stopping. “Oh, and Miss Reighs…”

Sara didn’t offer a response, merely staring him down instead.

“… Might want to get indoors soon. Heard this weather was going to get even worse later tonight. Heh.”

He stepped fully into his car, sitting down and shutting the door as his crew begun to wander in different directions, offering her silent scowls.

Sara waited in place until all of them were out of sight, then let out a long, deep sigh. She tilted her head up, staring at the stormy sky and blinking through raindrops.

And then, a quiet, almost inaudible,

“What the fuck?”

[ceruleanmusings]

25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain. - Melanie & Isaac

What I’ve written for them has been so angsty lately, let’s have some good ol’ rainy fluff!

At the sharp peal of the bell, Isaac’s hands clasped to his hears. It bounced around his skull and rattled his bones. Sometimes being a werewolf was a drag. When the ringing ended he sighed and dropped his hands, the reverb fading fast like a distant echo from both his mind and the tunnel he stood in. His poked nerves settled down a second later. He couldn’t say the same for Melanie, though.

“Aww man! I knew we shouldn’t have studied outside today,” she said, dropping her arms to the side. She brushed her wavy water-logged hair off her forehead and peered out at the school in the distance, sheathed behind a wall of steady rainfall. “Man, it’s really coming down.”

Isaac took in her short pacing and wringing fingers and worrying of her lower lip. His nose wrinkled. She couldn’t be that concerned about being late to class. They had physics next with Mr. Harris; not only did she not like Science class she didn’t particularly like Mr. Harris either. So why would she care?

“Think we should run for it?” she asked, turning her round blue eyes to him. She didn’t wait for his answer, leaning over and looking up at the slate gray sky above that dumped rain down on Beacon Hills. Her lips pulled back and a worried noise came from her throat.

He couldn’t help it. He reached out and ran his fingers through her wet, wavy hair. As he slipped his fingers through the strands her eyes briefly closed and her shoulders dropped from her ears. He almost felt the nerves radiating off her crash into him like waves.

“I think there’s no point,” he said, curling her hair around his finger. “Either way we’ll get in trouble. For being late, being wet, or skipping all together. We can’t win.” She opened her eyes and glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Your truck’s right there.” He lifted his chin at in the direction of her truck in the distance. A bright red beacon against the hazy rain. “We can wait there for the rain to stop. Or the next class. Whichever comes first.”

He barely had the end of his sentence out of his mouth when she took off. He managed to untangle his hand from her hair before leaving a bald patch behind (the mental image of which had him chuckling as he ran to catch up to her.) She may be faster but his legs were longer and within a few strides he caught up. Rain pelted them as they ran and, by the time they scrambled into her truck, they were soaked all over again.

As Isaac squeezed water out of the hem of his shirt he was vaguely aware of Melanie’s constant shifting, looking out the front and side windows up at the sky. “It’s not going to storm,” he stated.

“You don’t know that,” she immediately shot back, her voice tight with nerves.

“Yeah I do. These aren’t storm clouds.”

“Like that’s going to stop the weather from changing its mind for the giggles.”

“I don’t think the weather has a personal vendetta against you.’’

“It - just - might,” she grunted in her efforts to rid herself of her soggy jean jacket. She tossed it on the floor and then gathered her hair into a ponytail, squeezing out the ends. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered.”

His eyes followed the flow of her hair and shifted over to the rosy flush that settled into her cheeks. He licked his lower lip. “Well, we have about…thirty-five minutes either way. I don’t know about you, but I would like to do something else with that time.”

She paused in her squeezing, eyes narrowing for a second and then dropped her hands to her lap. “Was this your plan all along?”

He shrugged. Reaching out, he brushed her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You need a distraction. I just didn’t want to go to Physics. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing.”

He leaned forward and swallowed her growing protest, sealing their lips in a wet kiss. He dug his fingers into her damp hair, curling them around the shafts. He smirked against her mouth when she groaned at his gentle pull on the strands. She grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer as her mouth slid against his, their hot breaths spilling out of their mouths as the tiniest gaps. He pulled back, panting slightly, and kissed a stray droplet off the tip of her nose.

“You’re big for your britches,” she mumbled and kissed the side of his mouth.

He glanced down at his lap and then back up at her. “Oh, that’s genetic.”

Rolling her eyes she said, “Yeah, like your eyelashes. it’s not fair how long they are.”

“Want a closer look?” He removed his hands from her hair and grasped her legs, pulling her along the length of her truck’s bench seats until he had her settled onto her lap. The blush on her cheeks darkened as she straddled him and laced her hands around his neck, secure. Much better. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think this is better.”

“You would.”

“For you too.” He leaned forward and kissed her neck; she lifted her chin and hummed when he kissed her again and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her t-shirt. “If a storm does come through,” he mumbled against her heated skin, “we’re safer in the truck than outside.”

“Yeah yeah.” She grasped his chin, pulling himself upright, and kissed him hard. “You don’t need to convince me, I’m already in here.” She brushed his curling hair off his forehead and sighed. “But thank you for the distraction.”

His following kiss was an most enthusiastic “you’re welcome”; her pleased giggle drowned out by the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain on the windshield.

[amateuratprose]

Curiosity Just Might Kill Me

Curiosity has always been Zane’s undoing. For years, her penchant for digging up secrets has come with the worst of luck. Lost jobs, ruined relationships, and today in the basement of the university’s library she suspects that this bout of curiosity will end up with her being expelled. She couldn’t even remember what compelled her to go through with her halfcocked plan. One moment she had been jotting down due dates for her linguistics courses in her planner at her usual haunt, the mom-and-pop diner three blocks away from her university campus, and the next she was eavesdropping on a group of seniors as they tried to convince some impressionable freshmen to join in on their yearly ritual. Ole Years Night.

            “I swear on my mother’s grave, I am telling you the truth.” Said the dark-haired upperclassman around a mouthful of burger. He reached for his soda cup and drank deeply before chewing twice and swallowed. “Legend has it, that on Ole Years Night the veil between worlds thins, granting all kinds of spirits and creatures to pass through.”

His friends, at least she assumed they were all friends due to their identical dress style. Each man wore a dark coloured graphic t-shirt, worn jeans, sneakers, and a team ball cap perched backwards atop their heads. Glancing to her left, at their table, she noted the rapt attention their younger companions gave him. Three freshmen sat crammed, rather uncomfortably she noted, in one side of the booth seats. Soaking up every word. From left to right there was lanky, dreamy, and puffy. She had nicknamed them based on their appearances since she hadn’t been paying attention when they exchanged names.

            “Legend says, on this auspicious night, only the brave travel down to the basement in the Brathwaite Hall library. There’s an inscription written on the wall, if you recite it twice and leave three gifts then the spirits that live beneath the campus grant you what ever you wish. But on one condition, you have to be willing to part with your most prized possessions.”

Jeez these kids are stupid! She thought.  Parting with a sentimental item and performing a ritual all for a wish? One she doubted would even come true. Couldn’t be real. It’s a wish for god’s sake! And as if on queue that small inquisitive voice in the back of her mind said but what if it isn’t? She screwed her eyes shut, hoping to dispel the foolish thought before it could take hold. Before she could convince herself to follow some stupid myth which would no doubt lead her to trouble…again. 

Despite her musings she found her attention back on the group’s leader, she even feigned taking something out of her back pocket as a cover for why she suddenly slid closer. It definitely wasn’t so she could hear them better. Absolutely not!

“But how do you know if it worked? Like really worked” this came from a tall slender kid on the verge of becoming one with the wall partition to his left.

The dark upperclassman leaned back in his seat, placed his arms on the back of the booth and grinned. He knew he had them.

            “I know…”  he paused, stretching out the dramatics “because I’ve done it three years in a row, tonight will be my fourth.”

A scoff came from the kid at the end of the bench. He had on a dark hoodie pulled up over a mop of blonde curls. His face barely visible underneath his cascade of hair and above the hood, which he had pulled tight. Images of a childhood cartoon character from Ed, Edd, and Eddy came to mind.

            “Your word? We’d essentially be breaking and entering, risking expulsion, and not to mention criminal charges all for a supposed wish.”

At the kid’s dismissive tone their storyteller stiffened briefly before once again adopting his nonchalant pose.

            “Well in that case, I guess we won’t be seeing you there tonight.” His large hand reached out and snagged a few fries from plate in the center of the table before popping them in his mouth. His gaze swept over the other two freshmen, waiting for them to voice their agreement.

            “Look, if you don’t believe us at least come for the fun of it. What else were you planning to do? Sit in your dorm and prep for classes? If anything, it’s apart of the college experience. Live a little” he coaxed. And it was working, she could tell.

Zane had stayed in her booth long enough to get the details before she placed a twenty under her coffee mug, packed up her things and left the diner. Three and a half hours later, she was sneaking towards a window in the east wing of the library. Students had been skulking about searching for a way into the library. But she had paid them no mind. She knew this particular window would be open. Obviously, since you purposely left it open before closing!

Her voice of reason often chastised her while she performed daring acts. One day she would analyze why it was always during and not before she did something stupid. Locating the ajar window, she cautiously pushed it up. Giving herself enough room to toss her knapsack onto the floor before sitting on the sill and swinging her legs over and down. She landed with a soft thud; the thick carpet cushioned much of the noise. Turning, she repositioned the window till it was two inches from being closed. Deciding it was best to move with haste, Zane picked up her back, crouched down and scampered to the far right of the vast library. There she could clearly make out the entrance to the basement.

 Zane wasn’t usually one to believe in folk tales but this one was just too good to pass up. Yeah, right! She thought to herself. The myth is clearly why you’re doing this. She remarked sarcastically herself.  Her stomach twisted with nerves as she carefully opened the heavy metal door to the archives level. Dutifully she ignored the sign with big block letters and advised this area was for “RESTRICTED PERSONNEL ONLY!” Hinges creaked loudly causing her to pause. Ducking a bit lower she waited, listened to see if anyone was coming to stop her. After a count of ten Mississippi’s, she decided no one had heard her intrusion and pulled the door open further.  Her heart pounded as the hinges voiced their protest to being moved, halting her progression she looked at the space she had to fit through. There was just enough room for you to squeeze through, which consequently is exactly what Zane did. Once again leading with her removed backpack, she shuffled a bit awkwardly into the quiet hallway. Careful, so as not to make any other noises, she kept her back to the cold metal and eased it shut. It wasn’t till the heavy door thunked back into place that air rushed into her lungs, she hadn’t held her breath consciously.

Zane took a moment to grab the flashlight from her bag and looked around. The hallway was wide, about fifteen feet long and hosted five rooms. Two on the left and three on the right. From what the diner patrons said tonight, the passage to the basement was on the right, third door. With no time to waste Zane got to her feet and jogged a short while till she stood before the pale grey door. There was nothing to indicate it was locked so she reached for the knob and turned. Without resistance it gave, the door swinging open. Slowly she descended the creaky old steps, she made it down ten steps before having to turn to the right. Glancing over the railing Zane noted the staircase made two more descending right turns leading into pitch black emptiness. Sucking in a deep breath, one she regretted two seconds later, she continued down, down, down. The deeper she went the colder it got, the frozen air assaulting her chest like sharp icicles. She nearly thought she could see the fog from her breath as she made her way farther down.

As her nerves ratcheted up, creating a knot in her belly she found herself humming the chorus of Florence + the Machine’s ‘Shake it Out’. It might not stop her from being expelled or murdered but it definitely helped some of her jitters. Finally, she reached to bottom step, her sneaker made a wet squishing sound as she found her footing. Sweeping the flashlight around the room she took in her surroundings. She rubbed one hand against her arm, now pebbled with gooseflesh. She didn’t think she could stay long, the temperature seemed to drop with every minute she spent down here.

            The room was cold and wet, with damp stains seeping down the walls glistening against the bright light shone upon them. Mold, old textbooks, and dust all clogged her nose. She sneezed twice before moving deeper into the room.  It was quite large, she noted with surprise. Approximately 1,200 square feet, she followed the narrow walkway through rows and rows of materials. Zane noted several wrapped canvases all leaning against the wall to her left, cattycorner to those canvases’ crates were stacked to the ceiling. A faint scratching noise emanating from them. She really hoped that wasn’t where the etchings were. Boxes were stacked along the remaining walls, the material soggy and bubbled from the moisture in the air. It was a standard room, stuffed full of forgotten items. Each wall boasted stacks of boxes or crates their valuable treasures once safely ensconced within. The center of the room could be aptly described as a test between the lines of chaos and organization. Tables in neat rows were laden with various books, manuscripts, charts, and documents. Using her flashlight, she searched for the writing. Examining the faded spines of haphazardly stacked books along the way.

            Once she was within sight of the walls to the right of the vast room, she bathed it in light and hoped to see anything etched into its aged face. She was about to give up when dark red writing peeked from behind a stack of boxes. Steeling herself she walked over and nudged the box, it refused to budge. The pile stopped just at her stomach. More than ever, Zane felt grateful for her additional height. Nudging a foot behind the stack, she grabbed the exposed right side and shoved the pile away from the wall. She must have used too much force because the first two boxes crumbled, spilling their contents all over the floor.

            Sighing she leaned down to pick up a few books, the floor would soak right through them if she didn’t. She had stacked a few books in her arms before the leathery cover on a sealed tube caught her eye. She examined it closer, a thick layer of dust and filth obscured most of her view, so she stood up, stepping over the remaining books, and walked towards the nearest table. There wasn’t much room left to put the books down, but she figured no one would notice if they were out of place anyways.

            Once her arms were free Zane plucked up the interesting volume. She tried blowing the dust off the seal but that only resulted in a dust cloud choking her up. Coughing, she resigned herself to ruining her black yoga pants. Wiping the parchment tube across her pant leg she noted that it had a reddish hue to the leather. She followed the symbols as they twisted round the long cannister. Turning the tube, the glyphs stamped along the tight material almost danced with the movement. The tube was about twelve inches long; a melted seal like a hard wax covered the opening. She observed the symbols once more, finding that they were similar to the Greek alphabet. She couldn’t place most of the glyphs, but she was certain it was Greek, or an older version of it. Giddy at this discovery she hastily shucked off her bag, ripping it open to search for her lighter. Once she felt the cool plastic of her Bic lighter, she pulled it out. Shaking, numb fingers tried again and again to get the light to work. Zane let out a small growl of frustration as she tucked the tube under one arm. She put the light between her two hands and blew moderately warm air on her fingers. After four attempts, she tried once more to spark a flame. With a metallic clink the flame ignited. She was tempted to jump with joy but figured it was best not to wave the flame out. Stiffly she rolled the tube from beneath her arm and grasped it in her left hand. Careful not to place the lighter too close to the tubing she watched as the wax melted.

            Red wax dripped down the sides and onto the floor, the quickly growing puddle resembled crimson drops of blood she noted. All the while, Zane hopped from one foot to the other in an effort to keep herself warm. Here in the deepest part of this room it was freezing. When she couldn’t wait any longer Zane shoved the lighter in the waist ban of her pants and reached for the mostly melted seal. She hesitated briefly, wondering if she should do this, there’s a chance the damp air could dissolve this paper, ruining it forever. As much as she wished she could say she stopped herself, once again – her curiosity got the better of her. A voice, this one not like her usual musings encouraged her, open it, you must see what’s inside it begged. In hindsight, the change of her inner voice should have made her pause, but her greed for information, for something exciting, won out.

            Zane placed the bottom of the tube between bet legs and hunched over it to twist the seal away. At the first rotation the air in the room seemed to tense with its own apprehension. A slight breeze glanced across the back of her neck and she froze briefly. Her heart sped up, but she chalked it up to her imagination. The quiet of the room pressed in on her as she twisted once more. Distantly she noted that the scuttling noises from the crates on the other side of the room stopped completely. With one final yank she pulled the seal from the tube. A great gush of dust rushed into her face, without thinking she gasped. Inhaling the filth floating in the air. Zane let out deep coughs in an effort to dislodge the grit from her throat. Instead, it felt like icy fingers gripped her throat preventing air from entering her lungs. She sputtered and wheezed till she collapsed to her knees; her bones protested as they collided with the damp floor.

            Her eyes watered as she struggled to breathe. Her hands desperately clawed at her throat hoping to convince one smooth inhale of cold air down to her too tight lungs. Desperately she ripped the neck of her jacket and shirt away. Her now exposed neck did nothing to expel the thing choking her, seemingly blocking her airways. She thrashed till she lay on her stomach, great hacking coughs racking her chest. She felt the urge to throw up and welcomed it. She was sick then; fluid splashed her hand as she dispelled what ever had nearly choked her to death. Distantly, Zane was aware of her finer nails cracking as her hand fiercely grappled along the stone floor.  Heaving twice more before she was able to take a full, searing breathes of air. she sucked greedily once, twice, her chest heaving at the welcomed gulps filling her.

            Slowly she sat up, the flashlight had rolled beneath the table and lay an arms length away. The backsplash illuminated her surroundings, separating the dark room from her bubble of light. The sudden plunge just beyond seemed eerily sinister. As if a creature could jump out at you at any moment. The thought made her chuckle, paranoid much. She thought. Coughing a few more times, her eyes swept up to what started all of this, the writing on the wall. Literally. Now that the boxes no longer obscured her view, she could clearly see the passage written there. Ink the same colour as the wax on the tube was scrawled elegantly on the wall. Her hand crept to her throat as fear slowly crept back in, freezing her in place. Trembling, the cloying smell of her own mistakes now joined the previously stagnant odour of the room. As the red letters, much like the ones along the case rearranged themselves. No longer did she see unintelligible glyphs but clear English. Spelling out a warning.

“Beware of the marid, for no wish is worth their wrath. Never promise, bargain, nor plead with the beast. The cost of their magic will always be what you cannot freely give. Remove the seal and he will be free. Pray, that you survive it.”

Zane blinked at the message, perplexed at its meaning. That was, until she felt the hair by her right hear shift with the rank hot breath of someone behind her. The solid mass of something, no, someone crouched at her back. And with its deep chuckle, the light guttered out. 

[darkhymns-fic]

Murder with a Side of Lies (Ch. 6)

Papyrus and Undyne are back out on the streets for their investigation! But as they get closer to truth, Undyne will have to confront what she knows sooner or later... and the suffering people she cares for the most.

Fandom: Undertale Characters/Pairing: Undyne/Alphys, Papyrus, Mettaton Rating: PG Chapters: 6/8 Mirror Links: AO3, FF.net Notes: The sequel to Kidnappings in the Early Evening by Sky. A fusion of detective noir fiction and courtroom drama! All stories, art, etc., related to this main story will be under the tag #undertale noir. (chrono)

Suggested reading music with the return of the rain.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Investigation Sensation

Nightfall had settled into the rainy city, snuggling close to concrete buildings and the warm yellow glow of the city lamps. The rain poured tonight, letting small rivers trickle along the street gutters. The black asphalt shimmered with reds, yellows, and greens, reflecting the street lights. The grounds themselves appeared to be a beautifully painted canvas, colors blending and reflecting every which way.

I never truly noticed the beauty of the rain until Undyne became my best friend.

Taking my ever trusty Bonemobile, we drove down the wet streets, leaving the courthouse and the bright lights that Mettaton was already constructing for it. I had changed out of my slick lawyer outfit and back into my grizzled detective coat and hat. Since we were now in investigation mode, it was only prudent that I wear the correct outfit! That, and my trenchcoat was quite useful against the rain. Can’t risk my lawyer suit getting wrinkles!

It was a short drive, which was a good thing, as it left Undyne little time to try to wrestle the wheel from my hands again. Before long, we were already jogging towards the dark alleyway where they found Burgerpants.

Ah, the crime scene! To think, we’ve gone so long into this mystery and haven’t even examined where it all happened! We must be pretty great lawyers and/or detectives!

Undyne looked over my shoulder at my notepad. “Or maybe Mettaton is just really bad at his job, too.”

“PLEASE DON’T DO THAT!”

My partner laughed and slapped me on the back, rattling my bones in the process. “Aw, I’m just kidding, Pap, we are doing pretty good!”

Distractions aside, it was time for some good ol’ fashioned investigating! I was back in my cool and mysterious detective coat, arm around my bone umbrella and notepad at the ready!

Although, to be honest, the crime scene wasn’t all that interesting. It was an alleyway like any other; dark, wet, and damp. A couple grimy dumpsters were placed against some old brick walls of an abandoned building. A bit of light came in from the street lamps on the sidewalk, but for the most part, it was dim, and a bit menacing.

Bright pink tape warded off the crime scene, reading ‘Crime scene! (Don’t you cross it!)’ The dogi must have put it up, probably trying to mimic the human’s yellow police tape.

Hmm, I had a strange feeling of déjà vu. This alleyway felt familiar. Or maybe just this part of the city? But there was nothing particularly notable here. There were no shops, no stores that I could remember seeing before. Maybe this was just a really generic alleyway!? Someone should spice these places up!

Without a second thought, Undyne ducked under the ‘(Don’t you cross it!)’ tape and into the alleyway. I felt some apprehension in following, but the dogi aren’t technically the law! So, I don’t think I was actually breaking any rules by going in? But what if they are? I-

“Come on, Paps,” Undyne called.

“RIGHT!” I replied, hopping over the bright pink tape.

The atmosphere changed immediately. Or maybe that was just my mind. Suddenly, it was so real.

A monster died here, killed by one of his own kind. I felt an air of sadness and violence wash over me as thoughts raced through my mind. How could anyone do such a thing?

Undyne must have been reading my reaction. She frowned. “Paps, snap out of it. I know how you feel, but we’re in this now. We have to focus for Catty’s sake. And for Burgerpants.”

Her words were a bit harsh, but I knew she was just looking out for me. She was right, too. If we didn’t find the truth of what happened here, no one else would! I shook off those scary feelings and kept my eye sockets sharp on the lookout for clues!

Let’s see…

I was instantly drawn to the damp burger wrappers near the dumpster. The paper was a mix of bright pink, black, purple, all topped off with tons of glitter and Mettaton EX’s smiling face. Although, after a day of rain, the paper itself was soggy and ruined. Any sign of dust now must have been completely washed away, or taken for investigation.

“He must have fallen around that dumpster,” Undyne pointed out, eye gleaming like thunder under the rain. “It’s pretty dark here. He probably didn’t see the killer, or mistook them for Catty.”

I nodded in agreement.

Our next target was the dumpster itself. A huge gash had ripped into the side of the metal, with three symmetrical marks running across from it. “Certainly looks like claw marks, doesn’t it?” Undyne thought out loud, hand on her chin. “But it’s so huge. Whatever did this, it cut the metal like a hot knife on butter.”

It was certainly strange. Could Catty’s claws have grown so big? Maybe with a magic attack… but it couldn’t have been her! I hoped it wasn’t her. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS WHAT COULD HAVE DONE THAT?”

Undyne stared hard at the dumpster’s wound. “Just one, but…” she shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t make any sense.”

Memories of our last case came flooding back to me. “YOU’RE NOT HIDING ANYTHING AGAIN, ARE YOU UNDYNE?” I asked in a scolding tone.

She growled at that, but let out a sigh instead. “No, I’m not this time, I promise. I’m not sure what else could have reasonably caused this.”

There was something on her mind, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything out of her on that subject.

I scanned around the alleyway again, finding it difficult already to spot out any clues. There wasn’t much to note back here at all! There wasn’t a sign of a struggle or anything! There were a few cracks in the pathway, especially near the dumpster, but that was more than likely just from the constant rain and lack of care for the alley here.

“Hey, Paps, check this out,” Undyne said, calling me over behind the unharmed dumpster. Reaching underneath the slimy thing, she pulled out a shiny shard of glass.

“A CLUE?” I asked, tilting my skull.

Undyne scratched the side of her head. “Well, uh, guess it could just be trash, but man, it’s really shiny isn’t it?!” She grinned.

Shiny indeed! For a piece of glass laying underneath a dumpster, it certainly looked clean! Maybe it fell there recently? Or…. Maybe it was just really shiny!

“It feels kinda weird, too,” Undyne added, rubbing it between her scaly fingers. “Like… electrical?”

“ELECTRIC GLASS?” I asked, reaching out to it. At the touch of my bony finger, I felt the lightest of zaps. Like a small energy went through my body. “COULD IT BE MAGIC?”

Undyne’s eye lit up. “Oh, you know what!? That must be it! Magic infused glass!” The realization hit her. “But uhh… what does that have to do with anything?”

I grinned a confident grin. “NO IDEA!” I said as honestly as possible. “BUT IT’S SOMETHING TO KEEP IN MIND, RIGHT?”

Undyne nodded, placing the glass in her pocket. “I can’t find any other pieces of it either. Looks like someone tried to clean it up.” She shrugged. “Or maybe it really was just an accident.”

I suppose it could have just been a loose piece of trash. It wasn’t exactly clean back here, after all! There were soda cans, bottles, and all sorts of various trash. Even a few flyers for my detective agency!

But one piece of trash caught my attention. It was near the cracks in the cement, glittering like a speck of gold, sheltered from the rain by an old newspaper. Probably nothing? Or probably something?! I grabbed for the paper-like thing and held it between my bony fingers.

Hmm… soft. Felt as smooth as silk. It was beautiful, too. I could see my brother resting on a pillow filled with these things! It reminded me of something though, but what?

Aha! “A PETAL!” I yelled out, feeling accomplished.

Undyne let out a startled growl, looking as if she had seen a ghost. (A ghost that held a restraining order against her to be specific). “A petal?” she repeated, her question almost begging to be wrong.

“YES!” I answered, much to her visible dismay. “IN ALMOST PERFECT CONDITION TOO! IT MUST NOT HAVE BEEN HERE LONG!”

She didn’t like staring at the little golden thing, I assumed. “No. What could it mean?” Undyne muttered under her breath.

I had an idea, now, but Undyne wasn’t going to like it. I think it was best to just blurt it out! Also, I kind of just blurted it out anyway. I do that a lot. “DO YOU THINK ASGORE HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS?”

Undyne snapped out of her thoughts and stared me down. “No way! There’s no way Asgore would kill another monster!” But, her gaze faltered for just a moment.

Asgore Dreemur. I met the fellow more than a few days ago in a previous mystery. From my understanding, he is a clone of a Ms. Toriel Dreemur? I may have gotten my information mixed up there, but one thing I’m certain of is that he owns a flower shop! I remember he grew quite a few golden flowers in his greenhouse.

“Hey, it’s not like that petal couldn’t have flown in from some wind or just been thrown out by someone else,” Undyne countered, practically reading my mind again. Or maybe she was just arguing with herself?

But it was a fair point! A lone petal isn’t enough to prove anyone guilty! Plus, when I met this goat clone fellow, he was so kind! Possibly one of the nicest monsters I’ve ever met! Well, next to the female version of himself, of course. According to Undyne, (who has a bit of a history with him) Asgore wouldn’t hurt a fly. At the same time, however, Undyne also has clearly been struggling over something with Asgore.

I do notice these things. I just think maybe… maybe I shouldn’t say anything. Maybe I couldn’t say the right thing. Not yet at least. I worry about her.

Brrrrrrrriing!! Brrrrrrrrrng!!

The silent somber of the shade was suddenly sliced by a striking sound.

Undyne and I exchanged a momentary look of confusion before exiting the alleyway to investigate. The streets nearby were empty. Not a soul could be seen for miles. The buildings were either closed or abandoned.

Brrrrrrrriing!! Brrrrrrring!!

“Someone’s calling that phonebooth over there!” Undyne pointed out.

Sure enough, she was right! Wowie!

A phonebooth stood diligently under the relentless rain, the yellow glow of the street lamps highlighting it like a spotlight on a stage. The phone inside vibrated and giggled to itself, ringing cheerfully, clearly excited after such a long time without use.

“WHO COULD BE CALLING?” I asked, a bit apprehensive. “MAYBE IT WAS JUST AN ACCIDENTAL DIAL?”

The ringing stopped.

A moment of silence.

Brrrrrrrring!! Brrrrrrrrrrriiing!! The ring sounded annoyed now, as if it did not like being ignored.

“I doubt someone would call twice on accident,” Undyne grumbled, walking into the booth.

Well! I certainly wasn’t about to be left out of a mysterious phone call! I followed quickly after her, stuffing myself into the glass contraption. It clearly was not designed for two people, especially two fairly tall, muscular, and handsome monsters such as ourselves, but I refused to be left out!

“Paps, you’re elbowing my gills!”

“SORRY, IT’S A TIGHT FIT.”

“Did you have to close the booth door too!?”

“UNDYNE, THIS IS HOW IT IS MEANT TO BE USED!! I WON’T BE CAUGHT LOOKING SILLY IN A PHONEBOOTH!” I said, skull pressed against the glass.

“Could you at least answer the damn phone!?”

“I THINK MY ARMS ARE STUCK!”

With a determined grunt, Undyne forced herself through our tangled limbs and managed to finally answer the impatient phone. “Who is this?” she asked through gritted fangs.

“Finally, darling, you answer! I thought I’d have to wait another millennium for the cavemen to understand technology!”

I’d recognize that voice anywhere! Sassy! Surly! Serious! Sensuous?

“Mettaton,” Undyne growled. “How’d you know we’d be here?”

The voice in the phone let out a luxurious laughter. “My my! Unlike you folks, I only act the fool! Where else would a couple of deadbeat detectives go when they haven’t even examined the crime scene yet? Of course you’d be here!”

“IT WAS A LITTLE OBVIOUS,” I yelled into a corner, unable to turn my skull to face the phone.

I couldn’t see it, but I felt Undyne rolling her eye. “All right, all right,” she sighed. “What do you want, tin can?”

“Nice comeback,” the phone sassed. “While I am loathed to ask for help from plebeians so far beneath me--”

“Didn’t stop you before,” Undyne interrupted, her voice filled with a spicy sarcasm.

“OOH, NICE ONE, UNDYNE!” I tried to high-five her, but I wasn’t quite sure where my hands were at the moment.

The static voice on the line stalled, clearly losing his cool. “You realize you just admitted yourselves to be plebeians?” The computer composed himself with certainty. “Ah, but we should save our insults for the courtroom.”

“Get on with it!” she commanded.

“Alphys,” the phone said dramatically, causing a stir in my heart and most likely Undyne’s too! “She hasn’t been picking up the phone. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been doing well since she took the stand. Not that she was all daisies and buttercups before the trial.”

Undyne was flustered. I could feel her muscles much too clearly tense up in anger. “The ‘Marvelous Mettaton’ can’t cheer her up?”

“For reasons unbeknownst to me, Alphys respects and cares deeply about you,” Mettaton continued, his voice serious for once. “I think she’d feel much better seeing you.”

Undyne tightened her grip around the phone, threating to crush it. She didn’t reply.

“Well!” The voice huffed. “I tried my best to communicate with the brute! I can’t be blamed for not showing sympathy for my dear Alphys now!” I could hear him shrugging somehow!? “She’s a smart girl. Alphys will learn one day she doesn’t need you to be happy. Ciao, darlings!”

“Hey, wait, you –” Undyne soon found herself talking to a dial tone. With a grumpy grunt, she slammed the phone back on its receiver. “Ngaaah.”

Hearing a sadness in her voice, I attempted to comfort my partner by patting her on the shoulder. Unfortunately, I think my arm had fallen off somewhere and I ended up tenderly stroking her boot. Close enough?

“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?” I asked.

It took her a while to respond. “We can’t just drop the case right now, we don’t have time for distractions.”

I knew she wanted to see Alphys. Undyne worried over her, but she also worried about the case. She was worried about too much. It was time for a strong handsome guy like me to take charge!

“WE’VE INVESTIGATED PLENTY! I’M CONFIDENT WHAT WE FOUND WILL BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR TOMORROW!” I said. “LET’S VISIT ALPHYS AND CHEER HER UP!”

“You sure?” Undyne asked.

“SURE AS SURE CAN BE! AND THAT’S REALLY REALLY SURE!”

I felt a warm smile creep across her face. It was a little unsettling, honestly, because I wasn’t even sure how or what piece of me got there.

“Thanks, Pap. Let’s get moving, then.”

Dear Friends and Family,

I’m leaving. I made a fool of myself in front of the whole city. I screamed and yelled about a stupid TV show during a murder case for god’s sake. I mean, I’ve done worse. Much worse. But this was the breaking point.

I’ve worked myself half to death, and for what? I’ve done nothing but hurt others and lie. I’m ashamed. So ashamed. I never stood up for myself where it counted. Only for anime or manga or something stupid like that. Maybe I could have changed things.

I know what it means to run away now. I know the people I’ll hurt, I know the things I’ll leave behind to die. But I can’t keep doing it anymore. This is the only way I can get it to stop. I’m too pathetic to do it any other way. At least when I leave, it’ll be forced to end. It won’t be my problem anymore, I won’t exist here.

Sorry, Undyne.

Sorry, Mettaton.

Sorry, Asgore.

I don’t expect anyone to forgive me.

Goodbye.

-Alphys

“Dude, should we, like, tell him?”

“…”

“Yeah, you’re right, defo should tell him as soon as possible, brah.”

Two men in pinstripe suits stood before the apartment door, reading the somber note with shadowed eyes. I-

“Papyrus!” Undyne scolded. “There’s no time to write in your little notepad, right now! We have to go, now!”

Aw. She was right, I suppose. I was running out of space on my notepad anyway, and there’s a time and place for-

“Papyrus, come on already!!”

“SORRY!”

“Turn here! Here! Hurry!” Undyne demanded, pointing her claw directly in front of my face as if that helped me turn better. 

“BUT THERE’S A STOP SIGN!” I protested.

“It’s late, no one’s out, just go!”

Against my better judgement, I turned left at the stop sign, only slowing down instead of coming to a stop like the law demands. I felt dirty, but this was important to Undyne!

“HOW ARE YOU SO SURE SHE’S HERE?” I asked, tires screeching under the slick asphalt as we slid to a stop.

Undyne was already halfway out the car door. “It’s the closest train station to her house, the quickest way out of the city.” Her voice grew distant as she ran through the doors ahead of me.

I was never one for running, especially through slippery rainy streets. Not that I can’t run with the best of them! But my legs tend to get caught around my coat or cracks or vines or the like. Surprisingly a lot of vines in the city!

After checking my car was legally parked, locked and secured, and the mirrors were still in the correct position, and my umbrella was at the ready, and my hat was still firmly planted on my skull, I made my way into the station.

Compared to the gloomy dark outside, the station was a wonderful golden yellow inside! Although, at this time of night, there wasn’t a soul to be seen. I expected to find Undyne stomping around, shouting, and literally turning this place upside down, but strangely enough, my fishy partner stood silently, staring out at the station.

What could stop Undyne at a time like this?

Through the glass doors, out by the tracks, I saw Alphys, sitting quietly alone under the station’s awning, the pitter patter of the rain falling around her. In her hands, she held a Game of Bones manga, but it appeared she was having trouble focusing on it, staring blankly at the pages before her. A roller suitcase stood lonesome by her side, hastily packed. She rested an arm against it, as if it were her only friend in the world.

“UNDYNE?” I called out. “IT’S ALPHYS! WHY AREN’T YOU SHOUTING AT HER?”

She didn’t turn to me. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Undyne doubting herself again?! What in the world was I missing about my partner?!

“WHY NOT? WE BROKE QUITE A FEW LAWS RUSHING HERE!” I noted, unhappily. “WE SHOULD PROBABLY NOT LET THAT GO TO WASTE!”

Her body stood still, as if held in place by some invisible force. “What if Mettaton was right, Pap? What if I am no good for her?”

“IMPOSSIBLE! YOU’RE NEARLY AS GREAT AS I AM! ALPHYS LOVES YOUR SHOUTING AND SMASHING!”

Undyne shook her head. “Not just that. It’s my fault things are like this. The things that happened to her, it’s my fault.”

Oh! Does she always have to be so morose and mysterious now!? I get enough of that from my brother as it is! After all the law breaking, I was feeling quite grumpy, so I’m sorry you’ll have to hear this notepad, but…

“ENOUGH OF THAT!” I shouted. “YOU’RE ALWAYS SAD NOW AND YOU DON’T TELL ME WHY!”

That worked, apparently! Undyne turned to face me, a look of confusion on her face.

“WHATEVER IT IS THAT’S BOTHERING YOU, I DON’T THINK ITS YOUR FAULT!” I continued, bones rattling with adrenaline. “YOU’RE THE TOUGHEST PERSON I KNOW! IF ANYONE CAN FIX YOUR PROBLEMS, IT’S ME! BUT OTHER THAN ME, IT’S ALSO YOU!”

“It’s not that simple,” Undyne started.

“I WON’T HEAR THAT!” I interrupted. “I BET IT IS THAT SIMPLE!”

Undyne was determined to stay morose. “Alphys won’t want to see me, she’s made up her mind.” I could tell she was at her breaking point, however, as her claws clenched into fists unconsciously.

“YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT TRUE,” I countered, pointing at her like I would in a court room. “I BARELY KNOW ALPHYS, BUT I KNOW SHE’D LOVE A DRAMATIC CLICHÉ LIKE THIS! A LOVER STOPPING HER BEFORE A TRAIN LEAVES THE STATION IS PROBABLY ONE OF HER FANTASIES!”

It was one of my dream scenarios, too! I wonder if I could recreate this scene with Undyne later?

“You’re right, Pap,” Undyne conceded with a nod.

“OF COURSE I’M RIGHT!”

She growled at that, probably having more to say. “I knew you were right, I knew what I was doing was right, but for some reason, something keeps stopping me from doing it.”

“IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE ONLY AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE! MANY DETECTIVES OFTEN TRY TO GET TOO GRIZZLED! IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT! COMMON MISTAKE REALLY.”

A chuckle. A smile. The Great Papyrus’ cheering works again!

“You got me,” Undyne laughed, fangs forming a tight grin. Her doubt was washed away. That dark shadow that loomed on her shoulders eased off, if for just a moment.

A hissing screeched through the black night air as the train pulled sluggishly into the station. Black smoke left its chimney, rolling delightfully up to be with its stormy cloud cousins. The golden glow of the windows looked so inviting under the rain, calling and lulling all passengers to accept its warm embrace. I found myself craving a train trip, too, even.  

“All aboard! ;)” a sweaty voice yelled. Seems Aaron had a night job on the side.

Alphys’ head perked up, hastily packing away her manga. Glasses stared out at the train, lenses shimmering with memories, both good and bad. With a shaking delicate hand, she gripped the handle of her suitcase, looking left and right, more than likely hoping someone would stop her. No one did. She sighed, and walked forward.

“Ngaaaaah!! Don’t you dare take another step toward that train, punk!” Undyne roared, crashing through the station’s doors, glass shards raining down along with the droplets now.

Alphys turned a bright shade of white, scared out of her mind. “U-Undyne?!”

Spear in hand, glass crunching beneath her boots, Undyne cackled. “That’s right! I’m not letting you leave so easily!”

So many emotions ran across her face. Most of all: confusion. I think Alphys had pictured this being a bit more romantic in her head, as did I. “I-I um?”

A spear landed dangerously close to Alphys, blocking her way towards the train’s entrance. The cement creaked and cracked under pressure. “Running away is for cowards!”

Is this what romance is like?! “UNDYNE, I’M NOT SURE-”

“I know you’re not a coward, Alphys!” Undyne growled, her wet hair blowing heroically in the rainy wind. “I know you’re stronger than this, I know you’re smarter than this!”

At that, Alphys actually grew angry, too. Her pale scales turned crimson as she gripped the glowing light spear dented into the cement beneath her. “W-what do you know!? Y-you don’t know me! I-I am a weak coward!” she shouted, tossing the spear back at Undyne with the force of a lightning bolt.

The daring detective dodged to the side, her eye lighting up as she watched the spear explode into the side of the station in a flash of lights and debris.

“Oh, but I do! I know you better than you know yourself, punk!” Another spear was sent flying towards the scruffy little lizard girl.

“I-is that a c-challenge?!” Alphys retorted, catching the spear with her bare hands easily.

“Ladies, please, ;)” Aaron whimpered, sweating bullets near the train’s entrance. “You’re terrifying me with your incredible muscles ;)” Honestly, I couldn’t tell if he was upset or having the time of his life.

The girlfriends continued their quarrel, his pleas and cries for help drowned out by their uh, romance? “I know how much you love your weird game, Tales of Kissie Cutie!”

“D-don’t bring that up!” Alphys said, either blushing with embarrassment or red with blind rage as she lobbed another dangerous electric spear back towards Undyne.

The attack proved too quick for Undyne, or maybe she didn’t care to dodge. The magical weapon exploded straight into her chest on impact, scorching her already battered coat, singing the fabric. “Ha! There’s no need to be embarrassed of what you’re passionate about! That’s why I love you! Even if it is something as lame as a video game,” Undyne yelled, eye flaring. “You give it your all!”

“B-but!” Alphys countered, glasses fogged. “I-I d-don’t give it my all t-to anything else! I-I’m running away from everything that actually matters right now! T-that’s proof!”

Undyne’s fangs shimmered under the moon’s white light with a wild grin. Alphys stepped right into her trap, it looked like. “More like proof against it, nerd!” Spears materialized all around Alphys’ body, completely surrounding her with razor sharp edges. “You’re willing to leave everyone you love, leave everything you know to stop them! And it’d work too! If that’s not passion, if that’s not strength, I don’t know what is!”

“I-I, uh!” Alphys stumbled over her words, eyes darting for something to help her berate herself. “I-I don’t know about that!” she yelled lamely, hands curled into fists.

Undyne walked forward slowly, each step smashing the cement under her power. “Well I do, punk!” Her voice was more of a menacing growl now as she loomed over Alphys, spears keeping her trapped in place. “I respect your passion, I respect your effort! But I won’t let you leave.”

The trapped scientist couldn’t meet her gaze anymore. Her words became soft, scared. “B-but what else can I do?”

Spears vanished, fangs hid themselves away. “Nothing,” Undyne breathed, snatching Alphys up and holding her in a tight, loving embrace. “You don’t need to do anything anymore,” she said sweetly. “I’ll handle it.”

A gasp, a mumble. “But!”

“No buts, nerd,” Undyne whispered, stroking her head with the softest touch. “I’m going to take care of it. I mean it. I won’t let you leave, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t want to go,” she replied through gasping breaths. “I w-won’t go.”

And with that, Undyne dropped her girlfriend onto the cold wet concrete with an ungraceful plop. “Ha! I knew it! I win!” she gloated, laughing.

Wowie! That was so cool! If this is what relationships are like, I certainly need to get my hands on one! Who would have thought the correct way to profess your love was by throwing dangerous exploding spears at each other?! I’m glad I had you around for this, notepad, so I could write all this down just in case I need pointers.

Hmm, now that I think of it… When Undyne and I first met, we had a dramatic fight like this too. Could it have been love at first sight? Oh no, notepad! I’m not ready to face my feelings like this!! Let’s just bury this away like all good grizzled detectives do, okay?!

“Oww! U-Undyne!!” Alphys whined, rubbing her sore behind. “W-why do you always have to do things like that?”

Her face was red, practically steaming, but she continued to laugh anyway. “Romance is lame! I proved my point! That’s all that matters!”

The mousy little dino let out a sigh, unable to muster up the energy to challenge her anymore. “H-how did you find me anyway?”

“Babe, I’m a detective,” Undyne said matter-of-factly.

“W-well, not really, you don’t have a private detective license or anything…”

License? To be a detective?! How absurd! That’s like needing a license to be a lawyer!

Alphys shook her head, as if disagreeing with my inner musings. “T-that’s not the p-point though. How are you g-gonna take care of it, Undyne?”

A whistling screeched through the rainy weather, the cry of the train as it chugged away from the station. Undyne’s grin disappeared like a terrible magic trick nobody wanted to see. “I’ll figure it out.”

That didn’t satisfy her girlfriend. “T-that’s not g-good enough! I-I n-need to know w-when!” Alphys’ voice trailed off. “Or else…”

A shake of her head, Undyne frowned harder, but her eye emitted courage this time. “Tomorrow. For sure.”

Boy, I wish I knew what was going on here! I felt like quite the third wheel! I know third wheels are very practical, though!!

“H-how?” Alphys mumbled, skeptical.

Undyne crossed her arms, mulling something over in her mind. “Papyrus?”

Oh!! That’s me! “YES!?” I asked, eagerly, willing to do anything for my best friend.

“I want to take over the court case tomorrow.”

“WOWIE!” I gasped. “WHAT A TWIST! WELL, IF YOU INS-”

“By myself,” she added, sounding a little guilty.

Wowie. I, um?? Notepad, I know I said I’d do anything for her, but I really like this case! Besides, how could she go on without me?! She needs me!

“I’m sorry, I know it’s something you’re looking forward to,” Undyne sighed.

I coughed nonchalantly. “COUGH! COUGH COUGH!!! OH THAT’S A DISCREET COUGH!” I coughed, proud of my acting ability. You see, notepad, I was stalling for time, trying to think of how to change her mind!

“Pap, I know you’re upset about what I’m asking,” Undyne said, that eye staring right through my stoic manly form. “You’re very clearly sweating somehow, you’re shaking, and you’re really scribbling down on your notepad.”

Impossible! How could she see through my impenetrable façade!?

Maybe she really doesn’t need me? Maybe she’s learned from all my detective and lawyer prowess, and she’s ready to go on her own?

“I want you to watch over Alphys for me, tomorrow.”

The girlfriend in question stamped her foot on the ground, splashing a puddle roughly. “I-I d-don’t need a b-babysitter!”

“WHILE I DO LOVE SITTING NEAR BABIES,” I said, “WOULDN’T STAYING WITH YOUR FEMALE FRIEND BE MORE OF A JOB SUITED FOR YOU?”

Alphys gave my statement a bit of concern. “I d-don’t think I even w-want to know why you-,”

“BECAUSE THEY SMELL GOOD. WELL. UNTIL THEY DON’T.”

Undyne’s one-eyed gaze shifted from Alphys to me, from soft and loving, to determined. “Yeah,” she nodded. “But I can’t be sure of what will happen tomorrow. I need a big strong hero to protect my princess, you see?”

Nyeh heh! Well! I am quite big and strong! I can see why Undyne would choose me to protect her damsel from any distress! This could potentially be even more important than the trial!

“I’LL TAKE THE CASE!” I shouted heroically.

Undyne smiled at me, a look of pride shimmering in her rainy scales. “I knew I could count on you. You do know what heroes do to protect princesses right?”

That was easy! “FIGHT OFF EVIL-DOERS, OF COURSE!” I flexed, nyeh-heh-hehing. Oh, if only Aaron was still here, he’d be so impressed!

“Nah, nah, that’s totally lame now!” Undyne shook her head. “Heroes these days use cool get away cars if they’re in danger! They drive away as fast as they can, taking the princess, and doing sick tricks all the way!”

Wowie! Times sure have changed! I had no idea that’s what all the hip heroes were doing! “BUT, UNDYNE! THAT SOUNDS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE RUNNING AWAY?” And running away isn’t heroic or manly!

Brushing off my statement, Undyne replied, “Pshaw, not at all! Driving away in the Bonemobile in style is running away? No, there’s no evidence to support that at all, Pap!”

Hmm! My partner raised an intriguing point! I can see why heroes would do such daring feats of driving now! It keeps the princess safe, and it means any evil-doers don’t have to be harmed in the process! It’s brilliant really! The wonders of modern heroism never cease to amaze me!

“WOWIE! YOU’RE RIGHT!” I said with a grin. I turned to Alphys, bowing with fedora in hand. “I’LL GUARD YOU WITH MY LIFE, M’LADY!”

Alphys grimaced. “Please don’t do that.”

A hearty laughter boomed through Undyne’s fishy face as she slapped me on the back too roughly again. “I knew I could count on you, Pap!”

My spine ached at the spot of impact, but I wasn’t about to show it! “OF COURSE! AND I KNOW YOU CAN WIN THE TRIAL TOMORROW! I BELIEVE IN YOU, UNDYNE!”

Alphys held Undyne’s hand tenderly. “I b-believe in you, t-too.”

Her smile flinched, her laughter became unsteady, but just for a moment. She held strong. “Yeah. Yeah! I’ll win. I’ll fix everything.”

Nyeh-heh-heh! Now, notepad, I wish I could write more to you! We had such a great slumber party over at Alphys’ house! We rewatched Game of Bones, all night! Alphys kept yelling at how the show got it wrong, and telling us how the manga did it better. It was such a fun time! I would go over it in detail, but I’m running out of room, and you’re out of pages! Oh, darn it, and I can’t find my extra notepad anywhere!

Well, I’ll have to find myself another one sometime later. Sorry I couldn’t tell you how the case ended! Anyway, we’ve had some great times, notepad, and I’m confident things will be even better tomorrow! This is the end for you and me, but I’ll keep you close, and your new brother will join you with new stories soon enough! Write to you later, notepad!

Love,

The Great Detective Papyrus!!!!!!!

[recurring-polynya]

I haven’t posted any fanfic since April and I am dying, so I dug out this first chapter of this amateur hockey AU fic I started back in my annus mirabilis of 2019, which I am never going to finish. Despite taking place in an ice rink, it was supposed to be a fundamentally summery story and it was 90 degrees here today, so that seems about right.

I’ve always been rather fond of it and I hope you like it, too.

ao3 | ff.net

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The old rink seemed a lot smaller than the first time Rukia had walked through those doors. Smelled the same though, that astringent tang of bleach and wet rubber with just a note of snack bar french fries. Which was strange, because the Ice Society snack bar didn't offer french fries or soggy pizza or any of the usual things served in the snack bars of the hundreds of ice rinks she'd been in over the last ten years. But everything about Ice Society was weird.

For starters, it was called Ice Society. Presumably it was a shitty pun on "High Society," except that the man who owned the rink was a crusty old ex-Marine with one eye who didn't even know what puns were. It was just a mystery.

Rukia half expected Ol' Man Zaraki's asshole son to still be manning the counter of the pro shop, but an orange-haired teen snored at the register instead. She kicked the front of the counter, and he sat up with a start.

“Huh, wha? Won’t get me this time, old man!’

Rukia cleared her throat.

The kid peered down at her from his perch on a high stool. “Uh, you want a sharpening? I am definitely allowed to use the machine without supervision.”

Rukia raised one eyebrow. “Saw an ad. Rink’s looking for a figure skating instructor for the summer?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” the teen scratched his head.

“I...would like to apply?”

“You got a resume or something?”

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him, but passed it over.

The kid made a very serious face as he looked it over. “First Place Overall, Tri State Championships 2015, mmm, very impressive. First Place Regionals 2016, ah ha ha, very tough competition that year.”

“You don’t know a ding-dang thing about competition figure skating, do you, junior?”

“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “I don’t have any hiring authority either.” He craned his neck around to check the big clock hanging behind him. “Mr. Manager’s out playing hockey with the delinquents, but he should be done in about ten minutes. If you want to talk to him, you can wait around, or I can give this to him assuming I don’t fall asleep again or forget.”

Rukia didn’t really register the second part of this sentence because her heart gave a little leap at the mention of delinquents. “Ol’ Man Zaraki still teaches the kids from juvie how to play hockey?” she asked.

The teen regarded her curiously. “Naw, his back gives him trouble. His son does it now.” He narrowed his eyes. “S’how I learned, y’know.”

Rukia wagged her eyebrows at him. “No shit. Me, too. I’ll wait.”

She wasn’t sure that Ikkaku would even remember her—it’d been ten years and he’d been a surly teen at the time, not too interested in the shouting, angry kids he was trying to teach wrist shots to. Rukia hoped maybe he’d mellowed out a bit, and might be a little more inclined to hire someone with a soft spot in their heart for his dad, who, seriously, had to be about 900 years old by now.

“I’m gonna go out and watch,” Rukia informed the shop kid, snagging her resume back.

“Suit yourself.” He suddenly seemed to remember something. “Wait, you play hockey? Look, my team is lookin’ for—“

Rukia waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been years. I don’t even own equipment.”

“We sell equipment! You’d get an employee discount!” he shouted after her as she headed into the rink proper.

Rukia recognized the drill the kids were doing. They would skate up the ice, the coach would set them up with a pass, and they would take a shot on goal. Most of the kids could barely shoot the puck, but to be fair, the tiny person in net couldn’t really stop anything, either. Nevertheless, Rukia could hear a steady stream of barked encouragement from the coach under the high pitched babble of shouts and shrieks from the other players. These kids didn’t get a whole lot of encouragement in their lives, and she remembered very well the feeling of teammates shouting her name for the first time.

“Great job, great job, everybody! Give your keeper a high five, and go get changed! Awesome hustle today, Ururu, way to hang in there!”

Rukia leaned against the curve of the rink, watching the little hooligans high-five their coach as they piled off the ice.

“You didn’t suck too much yourself today, old man!” one of them squeaked.

Rukia snorted. Some things never changed.

The coach was taking a moment to help the goalie—who turned out to be a tiny girl with dark hair in pigtails—loosen the buckles on her leg pads, before shooing her into the locker room.

Rukia stood up and prepared to re-introduce herself, when he pulled off his helmet, and instead of Ikkaku’s shaved head, a mass of dark red hair spilled out. Most of it was covered with a sweat-soaked bandana, but she would recognize that ponytail anywhere. The words dried up in Rukia’s mouth and she stood stupidly gawping like a fish. The man, who stood close to 6’4” in his skates, stopped short when he realized there was a tiny woman in his way.

“Ah, ‘scuse me, almost didn’t see you there.” He seemed confused by her lack of movement, speech, or any other discernibly human reactions. And then recognition dawned. “Rukia? ‘Zat you?”

Something about the sound of his voice brought her back to herself. Rukia crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at him. “Hey, Renji.”

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“I’ve seen you around, I think,” Rukia mentioned, poking one of the pucks experimentally with her stick while she waited her turn.

“Family court, prob’ly,” Renji suggested. People were always recognizing him. It was the hair. “You in the foster system, too?”

“Uh, yeah,” she admitted.

“Whadja do to get put in juvie?”

“Jacked a car.”

“You stole a car?”

“It was a 1996 Ford Festiva, so maybe ‘car’ is a little generous. How ‘bout you?”

He fidgeted. “Spray painted a dick on the side of the school.”

Rukia laughed. She had the grating laugh of an old grifter, not a little girl’s laugh at all. “Karakura Middle, lime green? Real attention to detail on the ball hairs?”

“That was me.”

“Nice work.”

Renji felt his cheeks color. He’d never actually gotten a compliment on his graffiti before, let alone from a cute girl who had jacked a goddamn car. “Hey, it’s almost my turn here, and I do not know what I am doing, don’t judge me too rough, okay?”

“I would never.”

“Next!”

Renji launched himself down the ice at top speed. He lost his edge after three paces and landed stomach-down on the ice with a shit-ton of momentum. Ikkaku, barking instructions from the blue line, managed to get one hand on the boards and jump high enough to clear the careening child as he skidded by. Renji bounced off the boards a few times and came to a rest deep in the neutral zone.

“Good hustle, Abarai!” Zaraki boomed.

Rukia was laughing her ass off.

🏒   💘   ⛸️ 

“Yeah, Zaraki took me in a couple years after you moved away,” Renji explained as they sat in the bleachers drinking kombucha from the snack bar and watching Ichigo, the teen from the pro shop, drive the zamboni repeatedly into the boards. “After I got kicked out of the third or fourth foster family. I’m sorry Ichigo confused you.”

As if on cue, the zam hit the boards particularly hard, thoroughly rattling the glass. Renji stood up and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s it, you’re done!” he bellowed. “Go find Ganju and tell him to finish up!”

“Aw, maaaaan!” Ichigo groaned.

Renji plopped back down again. “So what are you doing back in Karakura?”

“Oh,” Rukia said, suddenly remembering that this wasn’t some dumb nostalgia trip. “I’m doing a summer student research program over at the Seireitei U downstate campus. I saw the rink was advertising for a part-time figure skating instructor, and I thought it might be nice to make a few bucks in my free time. Liked the idea of seeing the old place again.” She smoothed out her rumpled resume, and handed it to him.

"Oh, cool! Yeah, both our figure skating instructors just graduated college and moved away." Renji skimmed her resume for a moment, his eyes widening. “I always knew you were a good skater, but…”

“The man who adopted me was a former Olympian,” Rukia said stiffly. “He saw a lot of potential in me.”

“Looks like he saw right,” Renji shrugged. “You sure you don’t got better things to do than teach some teens how to stomp around the ice backward with their arms sticking straight out for fifteen bucks an hour?”

Rukia shrugged back. “The internship’s only ‘sposed to be 20 hours a week. Not like I know anyone down here anymore.”

“Well, you know me.” He handed her the resume back. “The job’s yours if you want it.”

She blinked at him. "That's it?"

He shrugged. "You want an interview with the old man? He'll be by in a few hours to shout at the HVAC unit."

"Is it broken?"

"It's too scared of him to break, that's what the shouting's for. Anyway, he'll just ask me if I want to hire you and I'll say yes."

"But how do you know I'm any good?"

He gave her a strange look, like he wasn't sure if she was trying to pull one over on him or not. Finally, he said, "What, you want a tryout or something?"

"I just don't think you should make hiring decisions based on nostalgia for someone you played hockey with as Squirts."

"Hey, we played together well into Peewees," he joked. He checked something quickly on his phone. "Ice is free for the next hour and a half. You got skates with you?"

"They're out in the car."

"Go get 'em. Hey, Ganju!" He waved to the stocky man climbing onto the zamboni. "Pull that back into the garage, would ya? I'm gonna use that ice."

When Rukia returned with her skates, Renji already had his back on. Rukia studiously tried to ignore him, setting up cones on the ice. Just as she finished the last knot, he hockey-stopped at the door, throwing a spray of ice in her general direction. She ignored him and stepped out onto the ice. “What would you like to see, Mr. Ice Rink Manager, sir?”

“Well, you need to get warmed up, right? Let’s see some circles.”

“Circles.”

“Yeah. You’re some sort of hotshot, right? Switch off forward and backward.”

Smirking, Rukia took off around the first face-off circle, letting her legs stretch out with each crossover. She switched direction for the second, taking it backwards . She stayed in reverse, and instead of skating around the perimeter of the center circle, she launched herself into a double Lutz. She finished the last two circles normally, and came to a neat stop in the corner.

There was the loud blast of a whistle, and Renji skated up to her. “You sure don’t listen to directions too good,” he frowned.

“I got bored,” she shrugged. “Is that whistle really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, next, see those cones?”

“I am not blind.”

“Skate around ‘em. Like this.” He made a serpentine gesture with his hand.

“I dunno, they’re pretty close together,” she said skeptically. In fact, you could probably drive a zamboni between the cones.

“Eh, just do your best,” he suggested.

Rukia took off and launched into an elaborate sequence of steps, dancing around cones, skipping from one foot to the other, flipping from forward to backward and back again.

“Yeah, that was pretty good, come back and do it again.”

Rukia executed the exact series of steps on the way back.

“Not very original, are you?”

She put her hands on her hips.

He pointed to a series of hockey sticks he had laid out on the other side of the ice. “Skate up that side of the ice, and jump over the sticks.”

Rukia had done this drill many times as a child, of course she knew you were supposed to hop over them one at a time. That seemed inefficient. Rukia took a long starting run, and shot him a shit-eating grin before launching herself into the air. She had managed to break his grinning shithead act for just a second-- his eyes widened in horror as he realized what she was doing.

Rukia sailed through the air, clearing five of the six sticks. Shit. She danced frantically, trying not to trip over the last one, and managed to clear it with a tiny little bunny hop. She spread her arms wide, and bowed, like she was particularly proud of that last bit, and then skated up to him, looking phenomenally smug.

The jackass still couldn’t manage to look impressed. “Okay, last test. Are you ready?”

“What is it?”

He shot her a toothy grin. “Catch me.”

Renji took off, backwards, tweeting his whistle obnoxiously.

Rukia took off after him, taking big, scooping power strokes.

As soon as she started getting close, he flipped forward, putting on a burst of speed. “You used to be able to catch me a lot quicker’n this!”

He was fast, a lot faster than she had expected. But Rukia was faster. Ducking her head down, she put on the jets. As they neared the corner, she cut inside, and passed him, transitioning to backwards, so she was facing him. “Happy?”

With a mischievous look in his eyes, Renji blew on his whistle, and put on another burst of speed, picking her up under the armpits and holding her straight out in front of him, her feet dangling a foot off the ice.

“What are you doing?!” she howled.

“We’re figure skating now, right? That’s how this works?”

In response, she grabbed the whistle hanging around his neck and blew it as hard as she could.

Laughing his ass off, Renji skidded to a stop, and gently deposited Rukia back on her feet before doubling over with laughter, clutching his stomach.

Rukia tried to look angry and impatient, but to be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time she had horsed around on the ice like that. She could almost hear Byakuya’s droning lecture on the importance of protecting her precious ankles, but she pushed it to the back of her head. He wasn’t here, and she was determined to enjoy the break from his clucking.

Renji looked up, wiping tears from his eyes. “Wow, that’s a stoneface. C’mon, don’t tell me that wasn’t at least a little bit fun?”

She crossed her arms across her chest, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe a tiny bit.”

“Good. I forgot. If you wanna work here, you gotta like having fun. No fuddy-duddies.”

“I will have you know, I am an expert at having fun!”

He bobbed his head in an exaggerated nod. “I can tell.”

“What kind of test was that, anyway? You just made me run a bunch of hockey drills.”

“You think I know anything about figure skating?” he scoffed. “Look, here’s the real test,” he announced. “Are you available on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, from 6 to 9, and Saturday mornings, 9 to noon?”

“Yes,” Rukia replied.

Renji tipped his head to the side. “Please come work for me, Rukia. You are ridiculously overqualified for this, but the Learn to Skate classes start this week, and if I have to teach them myself, I’ll have to drop my summer course. The pay’s not great, but you get a staff discount at the snack bar and I can give you free ice time between the hours of 2 and 4 am, if you want it. You get a couple teen assistants, real nice kids. I don’t mind if you make them run personal errands for you or whatever. Also, you get to hang out with a bunch of sexy guys, like Ichigo and my pop.”

Rukia snorted through her nose. Had he forgotten that she was the one who came in here, looking for a job? “You sound pretty desperate, maybe I should hold out.”

His shoulders slumped. “Aw, shit. You want me to throw in free skate sharpening, too?”

“‘Zat your Camaro parked out front?” It was a beautiful mid-70’s model, a hood the size of a tennis court, bright red with black racing stripes. Rukia was going to be very disappointed if it turned out to belong to the orange-haired Pro Shop teen.

Renji frowned. “You can’t have my wife. You wouldn’t want her anyway, she only runs a quarter of the time.”

“She’s a looker, though.”

“That is true, I am a man who knows how to wash a car.”

Rukia leaned forward. “I want a ride in her.” It had been a long time since she had ridden in a car where you could feel the rumble of the engine in your bones. Byakuya would shit a brick if he found out she was riding around in something without side-impact airbags.

“Really? That’s it?” Renji asked.

“That’s it.”

“You can drive her if you want.”

Rukia stuck out her hand. “You have a figure skating instructor.”

Renji grabbed it and shook it firmly. “Welcome aboard. You, uh, you wanna go driving right now?”

Rukia’s cheeks colored. “Oh. I gotta… I’m ‘sposed to meet up with my new roommate and I gotta unpack and stuff.”

“No problem,” Renji drawled. “We got all summer, right?”

“Yeah,” Rukia agreed with a grin. “We got all summer.”

🏒   💘   ⛸️  

In case you’re wondering how the rest of this was supposed to go, Ichigo tricks Rukia into joining his awful hockey team, which is made up of a bunch of teens (Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki and Chad), Renji, Ganju and some drunks (Yoruichi and Kuukaku). Rukia makes her assistant figure skating instructors, Orihime and Uryuu join, too, and I think at some point they recruit Toushirou. Rukia and Renji have a fling and keep insisting it is “just for the summer.” There is a romantic skate-sharpening sequence. They make out in the back of Zaraki’s rusty old pick-up truck which Renji had to borrow because the Camaro broke down. At some point, Byakuya shows up and he and Zaraki get in a fight, which they decide to take down and resolve in a hockey shootout with poor Renji in goal, except that Byakuya doesn’t know how to shoot and Zaraki’s back is just really bad and eventually they get tired. Just be glad I moved on to other things.

[nanoland]

mazikeen/eve/michael fic in progress

title: Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael 

blurb: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Spoilers for Season 5. 

0  

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?”

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.” 

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?”

(to be continued)