#this boy's pens must look atrocious i know they do

[sebdoesthings]

I wonder if 'Hikaru' likes papico ice cream because he also has a habit of chewing straws...

[snacc-noir]

Unseal and Reveal

You may remember @jattendschaton‘s amazing idea for Chat and Lb writing their identities in envelopes for emergency reasons, then I added, what if Nathalie finds it hidden in Adrien’s room and assumes it was attached to a romantic gift, leading them to think Marinette was his girlfriend and confronting Adrien about it-

and yes it was a while ago and yes it’s been written but I couldn’t not write a dramatic addition myself, so now with permission from the idea op, i will present basically the crack version 

( @hermionemonica @lady-charinette @aremmen @laadychat y’all got it but you’re getting it again)

-

Her idea sounds affable at the start.

Notice: her idea.

Ladybug’s.

(He’s just putting that out there before anything starts.)

The new guardian is pacing on rooftops, pen smartly rolling between fingers even though she’s focussed on nothing of it. She’s mulling, debating, as if they hadn’t agreed to this lawed debauchery five minutes ago. It’s not even bad, he knows, and although the thrill has set a kind of buzz under his skin, Chat’s not exactly worried.  

He never is, is he?

The paper smiles at him where he’s relaxing, the paper that will soon have her name. There’s an odd temptation to put the untouched stack in his mouth. Maybe he’s tired of waiting, or maybe he just really wants the paper. Maybe it’s a cat thing.  

“And we can’t let anyone see the envelopes.”

“Well, duh,” he says, as if he’s sure that’s not going to happen.

“Hide it. Keep it safe, don’t, uh, don’t open it unless—”

“You trust me, right M’lady?”

Her hand crunches the pen. A sigh. “More than anyone.”

She’s nervous, of course; no one is supposed to know either of their identities, and here they are planning to materialise them. But it’s for the best, they reason, with her being guardian and having no one to know who she is in case of a dire emergency.

Emergency, he reminds himself. Only in an emergency. In fact, it’s likely for nothing. He doesn’t want there to be an emergency, and he doesn’t want that to be how he finds her identity, but he also doesn’t want to never know the name sealed in the scarlet envelope.

When she finally sits, she scribbles on the pink paper, guarding even the movement of her hands by hiked knees. Chat takes time writing his message, dotting smiles and pictures when she’s already up to licking the paper as if the more salvia guarantees more seal.

Reluctantly, she passes it.

-

The first week, Adrien glances at the spot behind his CD rack at least twice a day.

Three months, then four, and he’s slim to completely forgetting he has access to the love of his life’s identity – the best superhero in Paris, the most beautiful and competent woman in the world, the—

“Adrien. Your father requests a serious discussion in the atrium.”

And her identity is especially forgotten the afternoon he realises his may be on the line.

-

Nathalie finds a red letter in the masked cabinet of Adrien’s CD shelf two minutes after believing this whole “catch why Adrien’s disappearing” thing would uncover nothing. When designing the Agreste mansion, it seems Gabriel’s request for secretive spots in his future offspring’s room to catch them hiding admonishments in later years succeeded in the very end.  

Because this is far too suspicious not to take back.

A pink note inside, a scrawl of a feminine name within hearts. Addressed, “to the best partner ever”, and alarmingly cryptic. No other message. Possibly, it could’ve attached to a romantic gift.  

Gabriel Agreste knows exactly what it means.

-

“Adrien.”

His voice is ice as always. His face is unreadable as always – though Adrien’s found guessing “disappointed” proves correct eighty percent of the time. So although the poor boy is dying for some indication that his father has not found out he is Chat Noir, there is nothing to pick up from the scene: Gabriel’s passive, and Nathalie, as always, stands a bit off with a face almost the same – like a sibling that’s ratted another out and is mirroring the scolding authority, even to the way her arms are behind her.  

Adrien swallows.

“Fathe—”

“How long did you believe you could keep your impractical relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng from members of this household?”

Uh…

…

Um.

Frankly, Adrien’s never been more confused in his life.

Excuse him,

But what?!

Adrien’s alarmed, squinting, and even the hounding worries pause to make sure they’ve heard right as Nathalie pulls her hand into view.

Marinette. Relationship. Him. No mention of Chat Noir.

Yeah… what?

“What do y—”

His eyes leap. Nathalie’s hand.

The envelope.

The envelope.

Red, unsealed, and far too familiar.

Adrien stills.

“I don’t tolerate this insulting feign ignorance. Explain this immediately.”

“Explain…”

How his mouth even does that baffles him – not like he could physically be any more baffled, but if he could, any words that could manage out his gaping face would’ve increased his puzzlement.

Marinette.

Marinette.

Marinette.

The Dupain-Cheng Marinette.

Her name was already bouncing in his head the second his father phrased an incredulous question that implied he’s dating her—his sweet and adorable and talented good friend—but you know, now—

Now.

Well, now he kind of wishes he is.

Identity. Ladybug. Envelope. Marinette.

The card is faced so he can read the confirmation of his last suspicions. He’s too close to pretend it’s too blurry to read, even to himself, so the startlement of his eyes catch every, single, scribble – every word, every letter, every heart.

‘To the best partner ever.’

And beside a dash, trying to look like the smallest signage ever, is franticly scrawled,

‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’

Oh no.

“Why do you appear happy?”

Happy? Uh, no, no! This is awful.

“I’m not happy.”  

“You’re clearly smiling.”

He totally isn’t.

“I’m not!”

“Adrien, you seem on the verge of tears.”

He stifles a fist on his mouth. “What?”

“You seem like you’re about to burst,” Nathalie probes.

His father runs him over with a cold look. “Amused, Adrien? Is this matter pleasing you?”

No way! This– This is terrible.  

Atrocious even! He knows Ladybug’s identity!  

“I’m devastated,” he says, eyes wet and grin hurting.

Ladybug’s identity.

His fist hurts his mouth. A small noise fissures behind his hands.

“Did you– Did you just squeal?”

“Absolutely not!”  

This is, truly, the worst news.

“Enough of these games, Adrien! You have disobeyed your authorities with all this tomfoolery and damaged how you excel in your extracurriculars. This secret affair is to be terminated, unless you can explain. If you can even recover this, that i—are you crying?”

To be fair, he didn’t mean to break down in sobs, but you know he feels no one can blame him understanding all that is happening right now. Plus, it’s more a dignified silent weeping (if you ignore how he’s practically vibrating) amongst muted chokes.

“I’m not, Father.” He wipes his face, hoping it takes his grin off too. (It doesn’t. Nothing can.) “Continue.”

Gabriel clears his throat. Nathalie’s still holding the note, not sure what to do with Adrien, whether it be… no, comforting’s never been an option.  

“Can you reason this affiliation?”

“That I’m dating Marinette?”

Gabriel nods, his face souring.

Adrien realises that, although there’s technically many things he can do and say, he doesn’t have a clue what. His options seem… pretty inexistent. So he narrows his criteria down:

1. He has to say he’s dating Marinette.

(Pretty easy, that wishful lie is already established.)

2. He must make sure he stays dating Marinette.

But then he realises he’s freaking Chat Noir and lying to save identities is pretty much most of job.  

“She tutors me. Ever since you were disappointed in my A- in Maths, she’s helped me in most subjects so I wouldn’t drop grades in them as well, so we started hanging out more and, well one thing lead to another…” He rubs his neck. “She makes me happy, Father. I was falling behind because I haven’t been too happy since Mum left, and Marinette, she, well,”

He beams, shiny-eyed and damp-cheeked. “She’s made me feel happy again.”

Ha, not even his Grinch-of-a-dad can say no to that.

Reason, sentiment, hitting the soft spot with mum? – yeah, that was good.

His father’s gaze is calculating, and if emotion ever touches him, it may have flickered in his eyebrows, but it smooths like steal.  

Nathalie glances at her boss.

“Is that so?” Gabriel muses. “I… can see what even the mention of her can bring you to. This must have been… some gift attached.” The way he gives him a once-over should make Adrien feel embarrassed, not chuffed, but it does.  

Gabriel thinks for seconds longer. The space in the Agreste atrium burns with tense anticipation that stretches Adrien’s sense of time.  

His father steps down and places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Continue to the tutoring if it picks up your grades. But monitor how much you sneak around, and try not to let schoolwork distract you from extracurriculars too much.”

And just like that, Gabriel Agreste is—

“One more thing. Nathalie, book me an appointment. I see it that Marinette Dupain-Cheng will soon be attending a dinner.”

–Causing Adrien more problems.

Thaaaat’s right. Proving the lie. With Marinette.

With Ladybug.

With Marinette!

“Eeep!”

Nathalie jolts her gaze to him, panic set in her flamed eyes as he stares back awkwardly.  

“I’ll– I’ll go call her.”

After he screams a million times, of course.  

[leviskokoro]

desc :: When Azul made a deal with Mari for extra madol, he didn’t expect her end of the deal to be like this. 

pairing :: azul ashengrotto x mari | octowings

word count :: 1388

warning/s :: suggestive themes?

notes :: @sweets-and-fluff-is-what-i-am gave me the idea to write this

“Do we have a deal?” 

A question Azul was quite familiar with, being the one that uttered it every time a poor unfortunate soul was to come to his office. The people that came to him would more than often have such wishes like “I want to slack off in school but get good grades” or “I want enough money to get a limited-time legendary card in a gacha game”. Most of them were quite childish. 

Howeverㅡ this time, things were different. The one that came to his office was a being that had him interested for quite a long time. That person was no other than the prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm. She was someone that stood out for many reasons other than being the only female student in an all-boys academy. Unlike the majority of students of this school, she did not do things for her own gain. In fact, quite the opposite really. It perplexed him all the time when she’d do things for people without asking for anything after. 

So imagine his surprise when she came to his office, saying she needed money. When he asked why she needed the money, she said that she wanted to renovate the Ramshackle Dorm but the Headmaster wasn’t giving her the money to do that. 

That led to them having a discussion over the arrangements for the deal. 

“In exchange for madol to renovate the Ramshackle Dorm, you’ll have to perform in the Mostro Lounge for a week,” Azul told her the conditions of the contract. 

It shouldn’t be too unreasonable for her to decline it and it would profit him. He’s heard her sing for a moment in the Music Room. He’d have to admitㅡ Her voice was soothing, something that could fit the ambiance of the lounge. All he’d have to do is have the Leech twins spread the news that the only female student will be performing in Mostro Lounge for a week. That would be enough to generate interest and increase the number of customers. 

He then placed one of his golden contracts on his pristine desk. 

As she gave it a quick scan, he recalled the last time she was in his office. Oh how he felt joy in those moments staring into her troubled expression. It was also the first time that he was puzzled by her motives. There was nothing to gain from freeing all those students, so why was she so set on doing it? 

But then, her answer finally came. 

“Alright.” 

She took the pen and signed it. Her handwriting was still atrocious, it seemed. It put him off the first time seeing it and those feelings didn’t change. 

Maybe he could teach her proper penmanship next time. 

When Mari looked up at him with those innocent-looking brown eyes, Azul smirked. His sky blue irises gleamed. 

“Excellent! I look forward to seeing you perform.” 

Azul knew that having a female performer sing at Mostro Lounge would lead to more customers than usual, but this exceeded his expectations. Every table was filled and his employees were busier than ever. The Leech twins did a splendid job at spreading the word. He thought this as he observed from the shadowy area of the VIP room. 

From where he was sitting, he noticed that there were some familiar faces among the crowd that waited for the start of the performance. Some students were people he expected to see like Ace, Deuce, and Cater due to it being Mari who’s going to perform. Then there were some unexpected appearances like the famous influencer Vil Schoenheit himself and the ever-elusive Rook Hunt. Even a few Diasomnia students came by to watch. 

After moments of waiting, the lights dimmed, causing the crowd to silence themselves. A spotlight turned on, pointed at the center of the stage. A sultry voice came from behind the curtain. 

You had plenty money 1922

A sun-kissed leg stepped onto the stage and the curtains were drawn, revealing Mari in all her glory. She was clad in a shimmering red dress with a sweetheart neckline and two slits that went all the way to her hips. Azul felt as if his jaw hit the floor and his cheeks felt warm. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one, seeing the shocked expressions of the crowd. 

Her movements were slow and sensual as she continued to sing. The piano playing in the background only amplified the tone of her performance.

You let other women make a fool of you. 

Why don’t you do right…

Like some other men do? 

Mari walked across the stage, her dress swishing lightly as she did so. The way she seemed so confident in herself was a striking contrast to how she usually was, often wearing an expression of uncertainty. 

Get out of here. 

Get me some money too. 

What… happened to her? It’s like she’s a completely different person at the moment. 

You're sittin’ down and wonderin’ what it's all about

If you ain't got no money, they will put you out

Why don't you do right

Like some other men do?

Azul found it impossible to take his eyes off of her. An amalgamation of all sorts of emotions stormed within him. He placed his hand over his mouth, feeling that his entire face was warm. 

Get out of here. 

Get me some money too.

He could feel the Leech twins watch the scene with amusement as Mari stepped down from the stage. Her 15cm heels clicked against the floor when she did so. 

Now if you had prepared 20 years ago

You wouldn't be a wanderin now from door to door

Why don't you do right

Like some other men do?

She continued to sing, swaying her hips lightly as she walked from table to table. All Azul could do was observe her.

Get out of here

Get me some money too

Get out of here

Get me some money too

Mari sat herself on a table, the one occupied by the Heartslabyul members. The song was coming to a close and she leaned closer to Ace, pulling his tie so that he’d come closer to her. Their faces were inches apart and his face was redder than the strawberries on Riddle’s tarts, staring at her bug-eyed. 

Why don’t you do right… 

Their faces were inches apart and his face was redder than the strawberries on Riddle’s tarts, staring at her bug-eyed. 

The Octavinelle dorm leader felt a twinge of envy towards the Heartslabyul first year. 

Like some other men… do?

The girl pulled away, smirking before turning around to retreat to the stage as the music came to a finish. It was safe to say that she left everyone speechless. 

After a moment of silence, a round of applause could be heard. Azul could even hear Rook sing his praises in French. 

“Oya, she was quite good, don’t you think so, Azul?” Jade spoke up. He could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Eeehhhhh~~ Shrimpy has a really nice voice. I can’t wait to hear her sing again,” Floyd said, grinning. “Maybe if I squeezed her, she’ll sing something new.”  

“Yes, I see that I made no mistake in having her perform. We’ve seen an exponential increase in customers today. I’m certain they’ll want to come back for more,” their dorm leader answered, pushing up his glasses and regaining his composure. 

Now that the performance was over, the customers paid for their meals and left. They also left tips for the performance. Time to go to his office. 

Once he finished calculating today’s profits, Azul finally concluded that profits were quadrupled. He clasped his hands together, deep in thought. If she were to be performing for a week and the interest level was consistent throughout all the days, then he’d practically be bathing in cash. 

Howeverㅡ 

Despite knowing this, he felt his stomach churn at the thought of her performing in front of other people again. He remembered that last part where she leaned in close to that Trappola. Something burned within him. He hated it. He despised that irrational feeling. 

Azul rubbed his temples. His lips pulled into a firm line. 

This was more troublesome than what he had anticipated. 

But as the popular saying goes— 

The show must go on. 

[loreleywrites]

The Gateshead Engine

If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)

The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.

I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!

Starting Questions:

—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?

I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.

—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?

My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.

—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?

The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.

—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)

My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.

My Engine:

Diary:

Monday, April 26, 1880—

I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.

Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.

The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.

England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.

Wednesday, April 28, 1880—

That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.

Friday, April 30, 1880—

Saturday, May 1

A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.

How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.

Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 4, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.

His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.

Wednesday, May 5, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.

Sunday, May 9, 1880—

The ankle works.

Monday, May 10, 1880—

His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.

He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”

I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.

…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.

Wednesday, May 12, 1880—

The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.

Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.

Friday, May 14, 1880—

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.

The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.

If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.

I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.

Saturday, May 15, 1880—

I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.

Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—

Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.

…Perhaps unlucky.

He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—

I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)

Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—

I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.

Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.

I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.

Saturday, May 22, 1880—

I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!

The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.)  Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.

I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.

Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880—

Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.

But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.

For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.

Monday, June 14, 1880—

Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.

Thursday, June 17, 1880—

Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…

One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.

Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—

The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).

Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.

My mind is alight with so many ideas…

Wednesday, June 30, 1880—

June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.

Sunday, July 4, 1880—

Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.

In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.

Friday, July 9, 1880—

Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.

At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.

How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?

He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.

Tuesday, July 13, 1880—

Chaos reigns.

Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.

Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)

The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.

Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.

I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.

Sunday, July 18, 1880—

Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.

My work must accelerate.

Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—

Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.

Tuesday, July 27, 1880—

Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…

And yet.

It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.

Wednesday, July 28, 1880—

Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.

I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.

Saturday, August 7, 1880—

What have I become?

Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.

No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).

The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.

I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.

Tuesday, August 10, 1880—

A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.

Wednesday, August 18, 1880—

The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.

My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.

Saturday, August 21, 1880—

The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.

Monday, August 23, 1880—

The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.

I cooperated.

I have a surplus.

Wednesday, August 25, 1880—

Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?

Thursday, August 26, 1880—

Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!

I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth

Sunday, August 29, 1880—

This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.

My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.

I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.

I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?

All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.

Today I will change humanity forever.

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Bound and Gagged

the red marks the prompts that have been filled, and the white marks the prompts that have been requested.

@badthingshappenbingo​

I edited this while a movie was on so I apologize if I missed something

Prompt: bound and gagged

Fandom: Ninjago

Character: Cole

Trigger Warnings: creepy adult acting creepy towards minor. Nothing sexual but the vibes are absolutely disgusting

2638 words

“Mr. Brookstone, come see me after class.”

Crap.

It was Cole’s last class of the day and he had really been looking forward to going back to his dorm and passing out. The day had been tiring enough already.

“Yes sir,” he said, biting his tongue. He had absolutely no idea what it was he’d done, but hopefully, whatever it was about would be quick.

The bell rang.

“Have a good weekend Mr. Hampton!” One of the boys chirped as he headed towards the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Turner.”

Within only a few minutes, Cole was the last one in the room. 

“I don’t want you to think you’re in trouble, Mr. Brookstone, you’re not.”

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“But I do want to discuss your recent performance in this class.”

“Sir?”

“You’ve been sloppy, careless, your form has been, for lack of a better word, atrocious.”

Well that was always nice to hear.

“Now, I don’t like to fail my students without giving them a chance to fix their grades. I am an understanding teacher, after all.”

Honestly, Cole had never been very fond of Mr. Hampton, but yeah, okay, whatever.

“So what, like extra credit?” Cole asked, hoping to speed this up so he could get back to his dorm as soon as possible.

“Something like that,” Mr. Hampton agreed. “Now Cole,” he said, taking a few steps and practically circling the boy, “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

“Um, okay, sure.”

Something ugly settled in Cole’s gut, but he opted to ignore it.

“I’m going to ask you to do something strange, but I promise it’s only going to serve to make you a better dancer. It’s a very reliable technique.”

Cole stood there awkwardly while Mr. Hampton went to his desk. He shifted side to side, wishing he could just go back to his dorm. Still, it was whatever, this couldn’t take that long.

Mr. Hampton pulled out rope. 

That was… weird. 

“Hold still, now,” he said, walking back with it, and then he wrapped the rope around Cole’s chest. That was most definitely weird.

“Um… what are you doing?” Cole asked, uncomfortable.

Cole could feel a knot being tied. “It’s going to help your flexibility,” Mr. Hampton explained, continuing to tie the rope. Cole, against all voices of reason, didn’t even try to stop him. “It’s not going to hurt.”

Within minutes (and Cole really didn’t know how he felt about how quickly and expertly Mr. Hampton was doing this), his chest, shoulders, and arms were covered in a series of knots. His hands were behind his back, and Cole knew without trying that he couldn’t free himself if he wanted to. 

A small part of him hoped his discomfort would be obvious enough that his teacher would stop, but that didn’t seem to be getting him very far. The binding continued.

It was his own anxiety that kept his mouth shut.

More rope, more binding, and soon one of his legs was done up too. And then, then, to make matters worse, Mr. Hampton was beginning to thread one of the ropes through a hook-type-thing on the ceiling. He’d always wondered what those were for.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this,” Cole said, very quiet. He told people that he wasn’t afraid of anything, and this wasn’t fear, it was just… anxiety.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Hampton said, hardly even pausing.

As all of this was happening, Cole decided the worst part was having his teacher’s hands on him so much. Sure, as a dancer he was used to having adults touch him, but that was always a firm, correcting type of thing.

This was different than that, and Cole didn’t like it.

Before he knew it, one of his legs was in the air, along with a rope holding the upper half of his body up by what felt like his bound arms. The only thing he could really move was his free leg, but he had to hold himself up with that.

All in all, Cole was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Is this really necessary?” Cole asked, hissing through the pain of the position.

“Believe me, Cole, it is absolutely necessary. Drastic measures must be taken when students are falling so far behind.” He fiddled with one of the ropes, bringing Cole’s leg higher into the air. At the sudden change, Cole couldn’t help but cry out.

“We can’t have you yelling like that,” Mr. Hampton said. “We wouldn’t want someone to come in here and get the wrong idea.”

Cole wasn’t entirely sure where he thought his teacher meant by that, but of all the things he thought he might have expected, he definitely wasn’t expecting a small rag-looking-thing to be pulled out of the bottom of a drawer, followed by a ring of duct tape.

“Hey, wait,” Cole said, “What are you doing with that?”

“This type of training takes silence. It takes concentration, meditation, even. This will help you achieve a focused state of mind,” Mr. Hampton said, gripping Cole’s chin and stuffing the rag into his mouth before he could protest. The duct tape went after, covering his mouth and effectively gagging him.

Cole couldn’t lie: he was on the verge of panicking. While he had technically said he was okay with this, or, at least, he hadn’t said no, he was beyond uncomfortable, and even a little scared, now. 

His legs were burning already.

He tried to say something, but with the gag, all that came out was muffled cries.

Instead of, oh, he didn’t know, removing the gag, instead, Mr. Hampton proceeded to pull a bandana out of his pocket and began to wrap it around Cole’s head. Over his eyes. So he couldn’t see.

Okay, now he was really freaking out. He was completely bound, unable to free himself or even move, completely at his teacher’s mercy. Needless to say, he didn’t exactly trust Mr. Hampton not to harm him.

He yelled through the gag, but it came out just as muffled as the first attempt.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, the pressure of it pushing his body down, against the ropes. Shit, that hurt.

“No talking. Just relax, focus on your balance and your flexibility. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That wasn’t very comforting. 

The hand left his shoulder, and Cole exhaled, trying to adjust his one free limb so the rest of his body would sit better. It didn’t work. 

He heard footsteps, something that sounded like the rolling of a chair, maybe? It sounded like Mr. Hampton had gone to sit down at his desk. Yeah, that would make sense.

Cole wished he could sit. He was flexible, yes, but his suspended leg was being lifted higher than he could go even after spending forever stretching. It burned.

Had the tick of the clock always been so loud? He usually hardly even noticed it, but right now, it was impossible to ignore.

The ropes dug into his skin, only adding to the mess of it all. Between having to support himself on one leg for this long, the positions his limbs were being forced into, the discomfort of the ropes, and the rag in his mouth, Cole was in a pretty bad position.

He breathed purposefully, trying to keep himself calm. Focus on the position. Maybe it would ease the pain?

It was hard to focus on the position when his mind kept wandering to things like the sound of the air conditioner and the ticking of the clock.

The longer he stood there, the more everything hurt. He was beginning to lose feeling in his arms, now.

He heard papers being shuffled, the clicking of a pen, and the occasional tapping of a keyboard.

He wished he could at least see. At least then he could focus on something other than the pain. He would gladly even count the tiles on the floor if he could.

He settled for counting the constant tick of the clock. He couldn’t decide whether it was soothing or maddening. 

Fuck, this was really starting to hurt.

A knocking startled him out of his thoughts. He would have jolted had he not been so… well, tied up.

He heard the chair rolling slightly, then footsteps again. 

Something akin to another rolling sound, but not quite. The room divider, maybe? He wasn’t entirely sure. He hated not being able to see what was going on around him.

The door opened.

“Hi Mr. Hampton,” someone said. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s a perfectly fine time. What do you need?”

Cole found himself both listening and completely zoning out at the same time. His heart was pounding so hard, so loud, and it was all he could hear. 

He had no idea if whoever it was — definitely another student, he was sure — could even see him. Would he even want someone else to see him? 

No, no definitely not. He already knew people would make fun of him for it if they found out. Cole was a decent performer, in his own opinion, but he hadn’t had much luck with social interaction, and the other students didn’t seem to like him much. 

If anyone were to find out about this, he’d never hear the end of it. How pathetic he was.

He shifted as best he could, praying he wasn’t in sight. 

“Thanks! See you Monday,” the student said, and the door opened and closed again softly, followed by the click of a lock.

Cole exhaled, thankful he hadn’t been caught.

Well… not caught, per se. It wasn’t like anything bad was happening. But still, the thought of anyone seeing him like this, so vulnerable, left him feeling nauseous. 

He felt a hand pat his head. “Smart boy,” Mr. Hampton hummed. 

Cole groaned through the gag, hoping it would be taken as a plea to be released.

Unfortunately, he was just pat on the head again and told to “quiet down, now.”

More silence. More tick tick ticks, more shuffling of papers. Cole wasn’t sure whether to love or hate the sound of shuffling fucking papers. He supposed without them he’d be driven crazy by something else, anyway. 

His ears were ringing, now.

The ropes bit into his skin viciously. He wished they could at least be loosened, but no, they stayed burning into his flesh, holding him in place. His skin was probably red in the places that weren’t covered by his clothes.

Even his jaw was aching, now. How long had he been stuck like this? He felt like one of those dancer figurines you could find online. Forever frozen in the middle of a routine. That’s what this was, he decided. A frozen, horrible moment in time.

After an infinity of typing and papers and pen clicking all over again, he heard the telltale rolling of a chair.

Footsteps made their way over, and Cole’s skin practically crawled in anticipation.

He could feel the ropes being fiddled with, and finally, finally the relief that came with his leg being released. He could have cried.

“There you go,” Mr. Hampton said, messing with the other ropes too.

It didn’t take long to be completely freed, but each second dragged by so slowly that Cole wanted to scream. He was so close to freedom.

Finally, the last of the rope was gone, and then went the blindfold and gag. Cole’s knees buckled, and he could do nothing to stop himself as he collapsed on the floor. He stayed there, breathing heavy.

“Good work today, Mr. Brookstone,” Mr. Hampton said, collecting the ropes. “I expect to see an improvement in your form next class.”

“Yes sir,” Cole nodded, shakily getting to his feet.

And then, finally, he was allowed to leave. He made his way back to his dorm, falling into his bed almost immediately. He felt like he could sleep for multiple days on end.

It didn’t take long to drift off.

The weekend passed slow and uneventful. It was boring, but it was peaceful. For once, Cole didn’t mind it.

Thankfully, no one seemed to know about what had happened. He’d just about die if anyone were to find out. 

Eventually, class rolled back around. Cole made sure to be at his very best, hoping he wouldn’t need to go through another day of “extra credit”. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.

As class ended and everyone was filing out, Cole felt his heart absolutely stop when his teacher called his name.

Please don’t say it.

“Good work today, Mr. Brookstone,” Mr. Hampton said, and Cole couldn’t help the relief that came with those few words. “Your performance today was excellent.”

“Thank you,” Cole said.

“Run along now, Cole.”

Over the next few days of class, Cole slowly allowed himself to relax. Sure, he was still putting in effort, but he was finally loosening up.

Until about two weeks after the initial event. It began the same as the first time; Mr. Hampton pulling him aside after class, telling him his performance was dropping, and offering up a “solution”.

Knowing what to expect didn’t make it any better.

Cole just stood there, let ropes be looped around his body and a blindfold take away his sight. He tried not to make much noise, this time. The gag made it hard to breathe.

But after only a few minutes, out of nowhere, it was being pushed into his mouth.

Cole didn’t fight it.

He couldn’t if he wanted to. He was smaller and weaker than Mr. Hampton, even without the ropes.

Besides, it didn’t matter if he was uncomfortable. He couldn’t very well say no to someone who had almost complete authority over him, especially when it wasn’t even like the situation was that bad.

He was just overreacting.

This time, he was forced into the splits, while his torso was bent over forwards and his arms were tied behind his back, pulling in the opposite direction. 

It hurt, and he couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him. He had no way of knowing if his teacher had even heard.

It only happened three more times that month. Each time it was a different position, and each time, Cole thought it would get easier. It never did.

It always left deep imprints in his skin, the only evidence that anything had happened at all other than his aching limbs. But the imprints faded fast, and the aches followed sooner or later.

Honestly, the worst part about it was the way his teacher got more and more… he didn’t know the word for it. Closer. More touches. It made Cole a little bit nauseous to think about.

Inherently, the situation wasn’t bad. But Cole wasn’t stupid. Or maybe he was. It was his fault for getting into this in the first place, wasn’t it?

He kept his mouth shut for the next few months out of fear. Maybe as a punishment for himself.

He was stupid to get himself into this mess, and he was pathetic for not knowing how to get himself out. He supposed he deserved the pain that came with it all.

He’d wanted to run away long before this had started, and every day it seemed like a more appealing option.

Run away. Run from your problems, because you’re too scared, too pathetic, to face them.

He stayed a month longer.

He only made up his mind after waking from a dream. No, a nightmare.

He could barely remember it, but he had woken up crying, and he had woken up ready to go.

He shoved only the essentials into his bag, and before his roommate could wake up, he got the hell out of there. 

He didn’t look back. 

[bubble-tea-bunny]

pool flamingo

[rohan kishibe x reader]

author’s note: idk why i’m so obsessed w rohan but i’m not tryna fight it

word count: 2,188

In the midst of summer, the heat grows to levels of moderate discomfort before the clocks even strike noon, so that when it finally is twelve o’clock, with the sun in the center of the sky, the temperature is nothing less than absolutely sweltering, and it would remain as such until the later hours of evening. A reprieve from the relentless intensity is never truly achieved until the skies turn orange and then black, and the sun is replaced by the moon.

The weather gives Rohan the perfect excuse to remain inside, working tirelessly on the newest volume of Pink Dark Boy. Though it isn’t as if he needs an excuse, and he has no shame in turning down invitations to lunch or whatever else comes his way, with the blunt explanation that he much prefers to spend his time continuing his manga.

He hunches over his desk, pen flying, sectioning out each page into the appropriate number of panels, drawing scene after scene. The first draft is the final draft, the shading and the line work clean the first time around, as is to be expected. His deadline is the end of the week but he’ll be able to send it in for publishing before then.

His focus is broken at the sound of footsteps padding down the hallway and he pauses, careful to lift the nib of his pen from the paper to avoid leaving a dark spot. He listens closely as the thud of bare feet on wood flooring becomes louder while passing by the door to his study, then fading as they move away. They come back, however, now accompanied by a knock on the door.

“Rohan, come out and join me!”

Your voice is chipper, easy to surmise even though muffled. Rohan shakes his head despite the fact you can’t see, and speaks up to be heard from across the room and through the door.

“I’m busy.”

It’s quiet on the other side for a few moments, but you’re not one to be discouraged. You push on. “It’s not so bad today! There’s a breeze!”

You really are trying, aren’t you? Rohan will never tell you that had been the only prodding required, that he is already convinced and yes, he’ll go out and join you, because that would go to your head, the realization that you don’t need much to convince him of anything. And he couldn’t be having you get supercilious. There is just room for one like that in this relationship, and he had already taken it for himself.

He replaces the cap on his pen and sets it to the side before he stands, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. His muscles seem to sigh in relief, for his posture when he’s deeply concentrated is nothing short of atrocious. He doesn’t notice how long he sits, hours flying by like seconds. You’d scolded him more than once on the occasion you had come into his study with a snack and a reminder for him to rest his eyes, lamenting that he was much too young to start giving himself long-term back and neck pain. He would always wave you off and tell you he’s fine, but your soft admonition to at least do his best to take regular breaks sits in the back of his mind. He’s working on it.

As he steps away from his desk, he glances at the clock, which shows him that it’s mid-morning. If he had to guess, he had been drafting the new volume for a couple of hours so far today. That was time for you to wake up, make breakfast, and decide this was another perfect day for your summer activity of choice.

Rohan’s hand curls around the doorknob and he pulls it back, revealing you on the other side, still standing patiently, watching him expectantly. He feigns disdain, huffing loudly, but you’re undeterred, and perhaps he is wrong and there is indeed space for both of you to be smug, because the look in your eyes makes it clear you know exactly how tightly wound Rohan is around your pinky.

“Must I?” But Rohan can’t help but tease, tugging on the reins a bit, if only to see your reactions.

You scoff at the absurdity of the question and laugh. “Yes, you must! I don’t want to be out there by myself!”

The corner of Rohan’s mouth lifts, a small smile betraying his amusement. “Fine then. I won’t let you flounder around on your own.”  

You smile too, satisfied that he is finally agreeing. “Thank you,” you respond playfully.

“Where would you be without me?” Rohan muses, staring down at you.

“I dunno.” You shrug. “But I’d be a lot lonelier.”

Perhaps it is the matter-of-fact tone with which you say this that makes his heart jump with something like love, and there is the nearly imperceptible melting away of a small piece of his haughty facade. You pick up on it of course—you are nothing if not observant—but you stay quiet because you know such fondness is entirely unbecoming of the great Rohan Kishibe, and you wouldn’t embarrass him by addressing it and forcing him to admit it out loud. His heart skips another beat and maybe it isn’t with something that is just like love.

“I’ll be out there in a few minutes,” he informs you.

“You better!”

He watches you walk down the hall and disappear around the corner, and chuckles as he turns back into his study to grab a few materials to bring downstairs with him.

Even if Josuke had done him the disservice of burning down his house, Rohan hadn’t been particularly bothered. Well, not about the house. Witnessing the structure go up in flames had further fueled his hatred for the high schooler, yes, but the matter of rebuilding left him indifferent. He had the money to do it and to make any new renovations he so pleased. One such addition to the Kishibe residence, version 2.0, was a pool.

He had it built for you. You would frequently visit the community pool, spending a couple of hours swimming, until your fingers were pruned and the chlorine had thoroughly seeped into your hair, prompting you to make a beeline straight for the shower upon arriving at his house. You basically live in the water, and he wanted to give you a space to swim privately, where you could have the whole pool to yourself.

And when he says it had been just for you, he meant it. Once the others had discovered what he did to the backyard, he promptly shut down any of their ideas of having a pool party. It was only at Koichi’s insistence that he had allowed it, on a particularly hot Saturday a couple of weeks ago. Thinking back on it now, he supposes it wasn’t awful, since you seemed happy to have everyone there. But even despite that, he isn’t keen on having another party anytime soon.

The light blue water glistens blindingly due to the sun and Rohan has to squint as he steps outside. White pool chairs are positioned in the shade, and he settles down in one as he observes you where you kneel on the flagstone, right at the edge of the pool, pushing giant floats into the water: first a dinosaur, then a unicorn, and lastly, a flamingo. You bought them because of the pool Rohan added, for there would never have been enough room at the community pool to use anything bigger than a simple tube. Now, you like to keep your eye out for more fun ones to add to your collection.

You watch the flamingo drift into the center, leaving gentle ripples in its wake, and then you stand, shedding your shorts and loose shirt to reveal your red one piece swimsuit. You leave your clothes in a small pile on the ground, then waste no more time diving in. Your fluid form and smooth descent make merely a quiet splash, and your figure is wavy and unfocused beneath the water, simply a group of colors moving beneath the surface. Several seconds later, you pop your head up.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” you inquire.

Rohan sits back and shakes his head. “I’m fine here.”

You grin. “Suit yourself.” You dive back under.

The heat is considerably less severe in the shade, but it’s still warm enough that Rohan’s thoughts are on the air conditioner, and how wonderful it would feel while he works on his manga. He has no qualms about keeping the air on full blast, as it was currently, the rooms kept cool for your return back indoors. Better to be too cold than too hot.

His newest volume is almost finished now, a few pages short, and he’s itching to get back to it. He tries to feel exasperated about being outside, playing it off as if he’d been dragged out here by no will of his own, just as he feels whenever someone asks if he’d like to go out (And bear this weather? he asks, upfront about how stupid he thinks the suggestion is. Forget about it.) But you aren’t just someone, and Rohan wouldn’t ever be irritated with you. So for once, he forces himself to relax and endure the warmth. And you’re right—at least there is a breeze today.

A quiet clack grabs his attention and Rohan opens his eyes to see you reaching out for your sunglasses which you had set on the side to keep dry. You set them on your head and drift over to the flamingo, clambering on a little clumsily due to the wetness of your skin. The pink vinyl squelches as you maneuver your way onto the flamingo, and once you’re finally on, you roll onto your back, sighing contentedly and sliding your sunglasses over your face.

They’re heart-shaped and a shade of red to match your suit. Rohan likes them. He thinks they look good on you. And he also thinks you belong on a magazine cover or a two-page spread, a picture to complement the paragraphs dreaming of a perfect summer, of the hot sun and cold water, of wet hair and the smell of chlorine (or salt, if one finds themselves at the beach). He can’t tell if you’ve fallen asleep, but you look so peaceful, so at ease, and deep down he will admit, though scornfully, that Josuke’s screw-up did have an upside.

Rohan reaches down to the sketchbook and pen he had brought outside with him, and flips to a blank page. His gaze shifts from the paper up to you then back down again, as he recreates the scene before him in black ink, smooth, clean lines trailing across the expanse until it all comes together—clothes discarded on the stones, the blinding water, the flamingo float. Then the subject, the main focus, the sum and substance: you stretched out and relaxed, coaxing the viewer to follow your lead, to let the stress melt from their shoulders and to join you in your stillness.

All he has left is to sign the bottom corner, but while drawing had been the initial distraction from the heat, you’re the main attraction, and he stares at you instead. Rohan prides himself on his accuracy when he draws but when it came to you, there was nothing better than the real thing. And he’d attempted to before, to capture the full essence of your person—the light of your smile and the inexplicable charm you exude when your hair is wet and tangled and drops of water cling to your lashes—as evidenced by the previous pages of the sketchbook he holds, filled with pictures of you. He might never get there, might never reach the point he’s satisfied with his depiction, but he’d never stop trying.

You notice how closely he is watching you and you turn to look at him. You lower your sunglasses slightly, until your eyes are visible, and you smile, asking what it is he’s drawing.

But you know. Of course you do. So rather than teasing, he lets you have this one and tells you exactly what he is drawing. Your smile widens and you hum, returning your sunglasses to their original position. Even from off to the side, he spots the flush of your cheeks, reddening from laying in the sun, your natural blush the most beautiful one.

“Make me look good please!”

At this, Rohan chuckles and shakes his head. You always look good, he thinks. You need no assistance there. And you are the perfect summer, floating languidly out on the water with your heart-shaped sunglasses. Maybe one night he will dream of you with a mermaid’s tail, emerald scales glistening in the sunlight because you take to the water like it’s your second home and wouldn’t that be something, to have a mermaid hidden away? His ultimate secret, his ultimate muse, lounging atop a pretty pink flamingo.

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Happy Birthday Until Pronounced Otherwise

Well, here it is. Late as always, but what can you do? So, this is a birthday for the best Big-Bro in the history of big brothers, and I’ve been wanting to celebrate his birthday on this blog since we had our first chat. This turned out longer than expected, and that’s with NaNoWriMo stress on me, but I counted this thank goodness. Some of this comes from the Discord, which is the source of all great ideas, and some research through the archive section for specifics. This is a thank you to all of the people who’ve pushed Legion forward into the being they are today, and I hope that we can have many more birthday adventures with these lovely boys. So, enjoy some sweet, some stupid, and some feels.

But don’t say I didn’t warn you, the next one will probably hurt. Mwahaha

…

They had to corner Phantom and Mad to get the plan pulled off, arguing/pouting until the demon and barman agreed to help decorate the bar. And distract Mare, but that was the easier part. The hardest thing that Legion originally feared was keeping their lip buttoned and not spilling their plans to Mare every time they saw him.

Their salvation came in the combined willpower of their many souls, and a patience born of many quiet people who were used to keeping their feelings on the down-low. Now, was this the most healthy thing mentally? No, no it wasn’t. But that could be addressed at a later time, when they weren’t stocking up on streamers, charging speakers, and ordering a lot of donuts. Donuts were better than cake, and they were pretty certain Freddy’s didn’t serve them. Less connections to that place was probably for the best.

There was also a mild cheer for Amazon, for delivering to a random location where no house supposedly existed so that an ageless child-like being under house arrest could get a present for their part-robot big brother. The delivery person got none of that exposition, just a thank you from someone who’s face they couldn’t concretely pin down before the found themselves back in their truck with no memory of getting into it.

Nate arrived about two hours ahead of schedule with his guitars at the ready for a little jamming out with Mare once the festivities died down a bit, and Legion was running around with a clipboard gripped in one hand and a ‘tamed’ version of the confetti launcher in the other. Except now it blasted little rolls of streamers to decorate the room. They claimed it was like tee-peeing a house, but they would clean up later (that was a promise that Phantom would not be budged on) and it was consented destruction.

And finally, finally, the stage was set and Legion was blipping the last present into their cloak for safekeeping. Prior experience had taught them that Mare could find anything they tried to hide, except when it was in their cloak, which no one could touch. So, in order for present thievery to be prevented, precautions were being taken. Nate was losing it on the sound effects and muttering from Legion as they shoved a large packing box underneath their left arm, punching it in with their right fist until it vanished with a pop. Then it was the main event time, and Legion ran off to grab their ‘big bro’.

“I’m surprised they haven’t popped at this point,” Nate said casually to Phantom, the both of them drinking punch with a suspicious amount of sugar in it. Phantom shrugged from his spot, before stopping to look at the musician.

“How do you know that? I haven’t seen you with them.” Nate grinned.

“I came over one time to talk and they were the only one there. You were away on a ‘business’ trip and they showed me this neat looking rock.” Phantom frowned in displeasure at the reminder as Nate continued, “Kid’s a handful, but they’re sweet. Not to mention they’re wild for you guys, wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing you are in all that you do.” Phantom was purposefully avoiding eye contact at this point, smiling despite himself. Nate noticed of course, and punched him lightly in the arm. “They love you man, no shame denying that.”

“I wish they had more common sense than that,” He trailed off when the pounding started, and Legion dashed into the room, squeeing as they tried to escape Mare, who was playfully reaching out for them. The short-lived chase ended when Legion ran over a pillow and flipped on the couch, allowing Mare to stop and finally observe his surroundings. His eyes widened.

“Is this?” Legion sat up again, dislodging a pillow and waving their arms wildly.

“HAPPY DAY OF BIRTH!” With a blip, they were beside Mare and giving him a strong hug, looking up with eyes containing dancing lights. “We must now celebrate the moment you got a body that we can bother!” Mare tilted his head to the side before grinning, bringing a hand down to noogie their hair and chuckle.

“That’s worth the celebration?” Legion nodded vehemently and Sharper popped up beside them, holding a donut in hand.

“We have to celebrate you not getting murdered for another year.” Sharper realized his phrasing and winced, “Was that insensitive?”

Mare shook his head, pulling Sharper in and giving him a noogie him too, “Nah, I think you all want to kill me at some point or another.” Then he snagged the donut and bit into it, to the protesting of both the android and the chaos-being. “Mwha? Yew saif ditz mry brifphdey.” Legion blipped away, running for the rest of the donuts even as Mare was ghosting away for a few seconds, and with that the party started.

It was a relatively quiet affair at the end of the day. After threats by Mad to burn the birthday donuts, Mare was given a flower crown woven out of white chrysanthemums, orange roses, and boulevard doubles. Legion had pointed to each flower and carefully explained their meanings, of enthusiasm, loyal love and pride. Mare had told them they were a sap, and they responded that they were very proud of their sappiness and to put the dang crown on already. Mad and Phantom found it pretty funny until Legion reminded them that similar crowns were in their future. Then it sparked an argument with no bite about allergies and flowers and demon horns. Mare was just sitting back, delighting in the atmosphere and munching away on his fourth donut.

“You’re gonna get sick you know?” Sharper tried to interject at one point, but Mare just grinned around the glaze.

“It’s my birthday Sharpie. Let me enjoy this.” Sharper didn’t get much of a chance to respond since Legion called him over as an ally, and then a pillow fight started and by the end the punch bowl nearly went flying if it weren’t for some demonic intervention. That was perhaps a sign that they should sing, and Nate plugged in his guitar, playing an acoustic version of ‘Happy Birthday’ that all of the guests sang to. Then it was a donut-eating competition between Mare and Legion that ended in his defeat. Being a being of hundreds of minds apparently meant you had hundreds of stomachs.

“Now sit down and close your eyes,” Legion eventually said once they had settled on the couch, and Mare summoned a wisp of smoke to hover over his eyes. “That’s cheating!”

“Fine,” Now he brought his hands up, and Legion waved their fingers around him. When all he did was hummed absently, they nodded their consent and reached down, rifling through their cloak and pulling out various items.

In all honesty, it sounded a bit terrifying with the variety of noises that accompanied their actions, but Legion was already a semi-eldritch being, what was a few more noises? When the last envelope fluttered out, they proudly grabbed Mare’s hands and tugged them down.

The various presents ranged from a new set of guitar strings and decorative stickers from Nate to a ‘tactical surprise’ from Mad that Legion was forbidden from using. When it finally reached Legion, they held their hand up, eyes searching the table until they snapped their fingers, pulling the large packing box forward. Mare stared in surprise.

“Are you smuggling another dragon in?”

“Stop sassing and open the box.”

Easier said than done considering Legion had wrapped the thing in tape, but with a pair of scissors Mare eventually broke through the lid, arrived at the next box inside wrapped like a burrito and figured out this was going to take a little longer than first anticipated.

Thirteen boxes and two confetti traps later, Mare eventually pulled out a small black box with a little tag that read ‘Pull me’. Taking caution, he distanced his body as far from it as he could, only using the tips of his fingers to pull the tag up before leaning back. Instead of exploding paper in his face, the walls fell away to reveal… a coffee mug.

“That’s it?!” He gave Legion a look, but they cheekily pointed at the writing on the side.

There was a picture of a tobacco pipe, some old-fashioned gimmick, and below it read, Comic Sans is Cool Again. In damn Comic Sans.

“You little troll,”

“Aw, we love you too!”

“That is atrocious,” Nate said, failing to hide his snickering as Mare ghosted over to hug Legion, yanking their hood over their head and fending off their playfully flailing arms. 

“Atrociously funny.” Legion affirmed once they finally got their hood off, shaking their hair free before getting off the couch. The took the largest box and flipped it over, revealing something tapped in between the flaps. A golden envelope with the name Mare-Mare written in purple pen. It was passed over as the laughter died down, and Mare sliced it open, revealing a folded piece of stationary.

It was quiet for the seven minutes it took Mare to read and reread the piece. His response at the end was to pull Legion into the firmest hug he could and whisper something in their ear that made vibrate so hard that fifteen Legions appeared around the room. As one, they turned and dog-piled Mare in hugs, much to his delighted protest.

…

It was nearing quitting time when the Host finally made his way through the back door, still faintly smoking.

“Wilford was being especially difficult today, until the Host called in the Producer. She’s the only one that can set him straight these days besides Amy.” He settled by Mare and passed him a book. “The Host wishes Mare a happy birthday, and wants to give him this.” The book was a picture album, and it contained several candid shots of Legion and Mare in their romping around the Mansion. “Consider this a joint gift from the Host and the Doctor.” Mare smirked and gently bumped Host’s shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“Mare need not mention it to the Host. He may tell the Host what he thought of this. Legion was especially determined on this project, and they were very excited to surprise you.”

“This is probably the best birthday I’ve had in years,” He looked over to where Legion was trying to match Nate’s movements as he played, managing to pick out a few notes before they lost their focus and tried again. “And of course that little weirdo did amazing.” There was silence for a moment. “Did you know about the letter?”

“The Legion did consult the Host on it for a short period of time. Did Mare like it?”

“…It was the sappiest thing I’ve ever read. I had 12 donuts today and that piece of paper had enough sugar in it to rot my jaw.” He tapped his chest pocket, where the paper would rest now and forever. 

The two sat in the ambiance, and for Mare, it was the pinnacle of existence, a moment of pure bliss. With his brothers, his semi-father-figure and the little sibling he adored.

“Best birthday yet.”

Bonus: The Letter

Happy Birthday brother-o-ours. We want to get to the important stuff, but we need to get some dates out of the way first.

Sometime in late November of 2018, we appeared at the foot of a decrepit looking manor with someone that we promise we’ll explain one day. You were inside that manor, but we had no idea at the time. What we did know was that we had one purpose: find the boys and start being nosy.

In July of this year, we had started hanging out together. Little moments with you and the Googles as we began to feel something that we hadn’t before. Even now we’re kinda struggling on how to say it, but our best guess goes to solidity. We felt attached, and not like we started caring. We’ve always cared for you doofuses. But like, for the first time, someone cared about us back. It wasn’t so much a feeling of being tolerated or given the occasional smile and wave. We felt like we were wanted, attached to the world for the first time, and we didn’t know how to feel about that.

In August, well, the Actor happened. For the first time in our strange lives of unknown length, we were actually directly under the control of someone that we didn’t know. We actually hurt people, and we don’t need to get too into that. Just that it was terrifying and it broke us.

We didn’t know who or what or why we were anymore.

You’ve probably heard us say it, but Dad was the one that gave us a name. We didn’t have a name before this. We were just 0 or pest or you or pathetic excuse. To have a name, to actually have something real that belonged to us filled us with so many emotions that we don’t have time to unpack. But it was you that told us to come back. You, the one who we screwed up the whole situation for, told us to come back. And that meant more than you could ever realize.

We’ve always been the ones to care about someone, even when they’ve had no one. I think you’ve seen that with Dark and the others. Some of us vehemently try to see the good in everyone, and even after all that’s happened, we still feel this way, or at least some of us do. But, when it all went down, we were so scared. We’d always been there for the bad guy, so who would be there when we were the bad guy?

Turns out the answer, besides Oliver and Dad, is you. Someone who knows what it’s like to be confused and freaked out and on the outside of everything. We had no hope for anyone here to accept us after we hurt them, but you did. We don’t know if it was duty or a promise or just that you saw us and realized we needed a pillar, but whatever the case, you came.

You entered our lives as a friend, and when you had to go away, a cold day in late August, you gave us your coat. And you took our heart with you. We had already figured it out, but by this point it was too late to tell you. We love you.

The last few months have gone by in a blur. When we lost you we nearly lost our mind, caused a large amount of panic with our stunts, and then we left our body for a bit. We’ve sat within the Void, which none of us wish to remember again.

But there was something wonderful and amazing to come out of these last three months was that we had something we could finally name. A Family.

A Dad, a Step-Dad, a little bro, shady uncles and aunts, and a Big Brother.

(That’s you by the way. ;)

So, Thank You. Thank you for giving us a chance, thank you for letting us be here to celebrate with you today. Thanks for being there and telling us that you care when no one else did. Thank you for giving us your jacket, and being there so that we could return it. Thanks for looking after Dad and Step-Dad and keeping them in line when we can’t.

We’ll make you proud Mare. That’s a Legion Promise, made of unbreakable love.

Your sibling, now and forever,

The Legion

Submitted by: @englishbreakfastandquills

[azritesx3]

“A Devil’s Love” Chapter 8: Shoot Me Stab Me

Description: Chloe’s best friend is back, and Lucifer’s charm can’t seem to affect her either. Is she also a miracle child? Or something…more? [Story starts during S2 Ep4, Female Reader Insert]

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AN: Updated March 15, 2020 - Grammer AN: Updated July 22, 2020 - Grammar, Minor story change

Rating: Teen Warning[s]: Swearing, Animal deaths, Injuries

Show Timeline: Season 2 after episode 15

Spotify Playlist /// AO3 Fanfiction Net Wattpad DeviantArt

Tag List: @ayanna-wild​, @anushay1998, @emiwrites3reads​, @i-am-canada-13​, @heart-of-pots-and-pans​, @tinyybiceps, @jessicarene99​, @lucifersnipnips​, @givemebooksorgivemedeath​, @sailor-earth-1

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"Do you usually snoop through a woman's place?" You say sarcastically. You walk to the couch and plop down next to Lucifer. You sit sideways so you're facing him, and rest your left elbow on the back of the couch and use your hand to rest your head.

"No, but I'd much rather be snooping through your underwear drawer than these-" he shakes the letters in his hand, "atrocious words!"

You sigh, "Lucifer-"

"Have you told anyone about these?"

You look at him like he was being ridiculous, "No, of course not. Why'd you think I hid them?"

"Not even this one?" He holds up one of the letters, and you know exactly which one it is without even having to look.

"'You're going to regret stepping into my business, bitch. Boom.'" Lucifer shakes the paper once more and looks at you with an expression you can only describe as angry/desperate/worried, "Isn't this something you should tell that FBI agent about? He is still working on your bomb case, yes?"

"Yes he is and yes this is something I should have told him as soon as I got it, even the first letter, but Lucifer," you place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, "there's a reason why I haven't." You remove your hand and motion to all the papers he has, "Before I explain see if you can do me a favor. I wrote the time, date, and location on the back when I received these. Can you find any kind of pattern?"

Now he looks at you like you were being ridiculous, but he complies with your request. You watch his eyes read each timestamp with a strong intensity, but slouch your shoulders when you see his face scrunch up.

"That's what I figured." You sigh, "Alright, I was going to wait until after we ate, buuut I'll explain my theory I talked about in the car now." You start collecting the letters from Lucifer.

"First off, I'm 99% sure Roberto wrote these because of this last one." You hold the bomb threat, "Second, I think the messenger he's using is an inside source. More specifically: someone in my K9 division."

"You know of someone else who could send these kinds of words to you?" Lucifer stares at you.

"That's what you gleaned from that?"

"At first, yes. If you believe someone else is after you I'd very much like to know."

You sigh and rub your brow, "You don't need to know, Lucifer."

"So there is then? Is it someone responsible for you having those nightmarish flashbacks?" He presses on.

"Lucifer, drop it." You say sternly. You both have a staredown, but Lucifer looks away with an irritated sigh.

"Fine. I'll drop it, for now." He turns slightly on the couch to face you better and rests his clasped hands on his lap, "So, why are you so sure this Roberto fellow is writing these?"

You unclench your jaw and release some air. I got to stop being close to him, "Well, he's the only 'business' I've put myself between."

"And why do you think his inside is in the K9 division?"

"Because it makes sense. How else can a notorious dogfighting boss avoid the authorities so easily? Plus, these letters show up where I'm not or right when I've left." You sigh and place the letters back in the coffee table, "It has to be someone on my team because I know no regular officer would care about my clinic, and these have only popped up there or at my office in the precinct."

"In a way, he's giving you the message that he's always watching you?" Lucifer says quietly.

You look at him sadly, "Yeah, and after the bomb went off in your club…" You sigh, "I'm really sorry about that by the way."

"Don't." He says sternly and raises a finger at you, "You're not the one that tried to end your life by placing a bomb under your car."

"But if I would have told someone about these letters sooner-"

"You're trusting your gut, K9. Being around the Detective for so long, I can tell that's a good thing to do." He gives you a reassuring smile.

You smile back, "Thanks Lucifer. So, you want to help me out again? It seems I can't catch this backstabber myself."

"Help you catch the bloke who swore to protect humans but yet helping in trying to end your life with some dog boy?" His smile has bite to it, "You can count on me, K9. Always."

"Good." You close the coffee table and stand, "But we're eating first. Pizza?"

---------------------------------------------------------

"This backstabber better show himself soon. The Detective is starting to get suspicious of all the time I'm spending here." Lucifer says on the phone to you as he side glances Chloe inside Ella's lab.

You and him have been holding this stakeout for a week now, and still no sign of the messenger. Lucifer watched the precinct while you stayed at your clinic.

"I told you we should switch it up." You reply to him. He imagines you rolling your eyes while you sit at your desk.

"You're certain you don't want to tell her? Clearly she's not in on it."

"Of course, but Chloe is a damn good detective. If this guy sees that she's hanging around my offices more they'll know what's up." He hears you chuckle lightly, "With you, it just seems like you're being a weirdo, as usual."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucifer places a hand over his heart in feign shock. You must have heard it in his voice because you laugh. He smiles and settles more comfortably in the chair. His focus returns to your office door.

"Nothing out of the ordinary on your end, I take it?" He asks.

"Besides seeing a bodybuilder bringing in his bunny in fear of her having a cold? Mmm, nope."

Lucifer sighs, "That's another thing I'm missing! The beautiful men and women in my club. You know this is the longest I've gone without-"

"Lucifer!" Chloe steps out of the lab with Ella behind her, "We're ready to go!"

"Thank you Chlo Chlo for the save!" Lucifer listens to your sigh of relief, "Talk to you later darling."

"Yup." You hang up.

Ella and Dan walk up the stairs with Chloe and Lucifer behind, "Who do you keep talking to so much?" Chloe questions him.

"K9." He replies easily.

"Oh," Chloe looks a bit shocked, "What for? Is everything alright?"

"Eventually, yes." Lucifer smiles down at her and pats her shoulder, "Now, what's this case about again?"

Chloe sighs.

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You walk into the precinct the next morning. You were called in to help with the weekly K9 training since one of the trainers got a cold.

"Good morning, K9!" "Hey, Earth!"

You look up from making your tea and see Lucifer and Chloe walking down. You smile and wave back to them while saying good morning.

Chloe gives you a hug and whispers in your ear, "You're ok right?"

You squeeze and whisper back, "Of course."

She pulls back and smiles at you. Lucifer tells her he'll make her coffee and she nods in thanks before going to her desk.

"Let me know when the tea's done, yeah?" You smile at him.

"When did the Devil become a common British servant." He mumbles. You laugh and wink at him before retreating to your office.

You open your door and brace your mind at the pile of reports on your desk. All of them were completed assignments that you just needed to look over and sign. Here and there you'd find joking notes from your team.

You step around the desk and pull out the chair, and hear a crinkling sound. Looking down you see an envelope. You pick it up and open it carefully, then sigh.

Damn it.

"I decided to make yours as well to embrace this new role of mine." Lucifer smiles as he walks into your office holding your tea, but his smile falls when he sees the solemn look on your face.

You hold up the new Roberto letter, "He got under your nose too."

You place the letter upside down and grab a pen to start writing your notes on the back. With your head down, you didn't see Lucifer's eyes flash red.

"It seems we're going to need more eyes." You sigh and look up at him. You take your tea and nod thanks to him, "But now we need to wait for another lead."

---------------------------------------------------------

A few days have passed since receiving the new letter. You told Lucifer to take this time off to "help himself" while you wait for a lead to pop up on Roberto's operations.

You're dragged from your thoughts as your precinct office phone rings. You pick it up and are greeted with Miller's voice.

The ASPCA, along with a couple of your recruits who volunteered to help, think they have made a huge breakthrough. They believe they found Roberto Alejandro's breeding facility.

Which means this mission will be incredibly dangerous and needs to be planned carefully.

You make the quick decision to not tell Lucifer. He isn't your partner. He's basically a civilian you roped in. You weren't going to place him in any danger.

You peek out your window and see that Chloe was busy with Ella and Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. You make a quick exit.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Alright everyone!" You say loudly in the small room that holds your entourage of officers. Everyone quiets down immediately and gives you their full attention.

"We're about to hit Roberto Alejandro's heart of operation: his breeding facility." You start, "The ASPCA and I have been going back and forth for a plan of action for the last 24 hours. I got them to cave into mine." You look around the room, "Some ASPCA officers along with Miller's team will create a diversion at the front of the building, as well as Blanch's team creating a disturbance at the back. I will be sneaking in to disable any traps and placing markers for where all the dogs are. Miller and Blanch," you look to each of them, "you're responsible for dragging out all of Roberto's men and not letting any escape. Some extra ASPCA officers will be hiding on either side of the building to make sure no one escapes."

"So, that's the plan. After all that we save these poor animals." You look around the room, "Any questions?"

"Ma'am!" Blanch raises her hand, "Are you positive you don't want backup?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry ma'am. We're just worried for you." There's a slight murmur through the room in agreement with Blanch, as well as a few of the K9's whining along with Buster.

You smile at everyone, "I appreciate your concerns, but I'll be fine. Just focus on your teammates. I'll be in radio contact."

When no one else raises their hand you dismiss them and watch them all leave. Once the room is clear you exit and start to head up the stairs.

"Earth!"

You stop in the middle of the stairs and turn around to see Chloe at the bottom, "You sure you don't want me to tag along with you?"

"You sound like everyone else." You laugh and wave to her, "I'll be fine Chlo."

"Alright." Chloe nods and smiles, "Good luck. Hope you catch this bastard once and for all."

"Oh I will, eventually." You turn, walk a few more steps up, then look back at your best friend, "And hey, don't tell Lucifer ok?"

"Yeah. Sure. Of course." Chloe gives you a wide smile and waves goodbye. With your back turned and heading up the rest of the steps, you couldn't see her two fingers cross each other.

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From what you can hear outside and the radio chatter in your ear, your plan is going perfectly.

While the north and south distractions went off you waited for the all-clear from the east and west sides. Once heard you quickly ran to the building and up the fire escape. You decided it's best to start from top to bottom. After forcing a window open you move stealthily through the building.

So far you've disabled two cameras and one tripwire. You've also come across two apartments filled with dogs.

"West to Spy. Just saw a man go through your opening." You hear through your earpiece as you lockpick the last door on the top floor.

Shit-

"Hello dar-" You spin on your heels and give the man behind you a gut-wrenching punch. When he kneels over you move a knee cap to his face, but a hand holding a very familiar looking ring stops the attack.

"Lucifer?!" You hiss through clenched teeth. You help him sit on the floor and lean against the wall, "What the hell?!"

"I should be the one saying that to you!" Lucifer wheezes out, still holding his gut, "You hurt me!"

"No shit Sherlock! That's what happens when you sneak up on me while on a mission!"

"No no, you misunderstand. You hurt me with a punch!" Lucifer looks up at you with a questioning gaze, "Just what are you, my dear?"

You stare at him, "What-" the sound of the front door slamming open underneath you made you freeze. You decide to slam open the door you've been lock picking and drag Lucifer inside with you. Thankfully the room looks to be just a basic apartment for Roberto's men.

You pull Lucifer into one of the bedrooms and stand flush against the wall. You pull out your gun in preparation for the men you hear climbing up the floors.

"What are you doing here Lucifer?!" You hiss at him while keeping your eyes and aim trained on the apartment door.

"The Detective let it slip what you were doing today. Innocently and completely by accident, of course." He adds when he sees the look on your face.

"K9," Lucifer steps over to the other wall next to the bedroom door so you can see him in your peripheral, "Why didn't you tell me about this? I thought we were in this together?"

The slight pain in his voice makes you take a peek at him, "I only asked you to help watch for the messenger, and that's all. You're not my partner, Lucifer." You look to the front door again, "You're just a civilian I've roped into this. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Well, too late for that darling." He gives you a small smile as he rests his hand on his stomach, then grows serious once more, "This mission is important to you and I rightly don't appreciate this dog man threatening you. Of course I'm going to help."

You look at him hard, and that's when the front door bursts open. Lucifer goes flush against his wall as you fire away. Thankfully it was only two guys who couldn't aim for shit.

"Right, but before I fully help I need to test out something." He says when you stop firing and the bodies fall. He stands in front of your aim, "Pull a Detective and shoot me!"

"What?" You're astonished.

"Come on K9! Just give me a little shot!" He's smiling and opens his arms wide.

"I'm not going to shoot you!!!"

"Don't worry, I completely understand. You want to be original! Right!" He snaps his fingers, "How 'bout you stab me with that pretty knife you have hidden in your boot!"

"God, I knew you were weird, but psycho too?" You push past him and out the door.

"Come on, K9!" He chases after you as you head down the stairs to the next level, "Shoot me! Stab me!"

---------------------------------------------------------

You and Lucifer clear the rest of the floors and are now on the last door of the main level. There were fewer traps on the lower levels and you're thankful for that since Lucifer kept distracting you with his bizarre request. You think you've disabled all the cameras and counted a total of eight rooms filled with dogs. This apartment complex has a total of twelve rooms.

You and Lucifer only encountered a few other men, which were easily disabled with either your gun or Lucifer's fists.

"I believe we got them all ma'am!" You hear Blanch call on the radio.

You pull out your own radio for the first time this mission, "Good. Any casualties?"

"Just some grazed shots on all four sides, Captain. No one fell." Miller responds.

You take in a breath of relief, "Good work everyone! I have eight apartments filled with dogs and one that looks to be drug manufacturing. Round up the trucks and let's-"

"K9, one moment." Lucifer interrupts and you look at him, "Do you hear that?"

You raise a brow at him, but start to listen. You can softly hear dogs on your floor start to whimper, and something...else? You remove your earpiece to listen more closely.

It was beeping. A beeping that came from the last room you opened.

"Oh shit-"

Before you know it Lucifer has you pinned to the floor with you beneath him as that room explodes and debris flies out.

The dogs are barking now, on all levels, and you can hear more beeping.

"ALERT!" You scream in your radio, "There are bombs in each room, and it sounds like they're at different times! Forget the trucks and get-"

You hear another bomb go off on the floor above you, and the barking of dogs decreases drastically.

You're in complete shock. You faintly hear the radio go off and Lucifer calling your name. When another bomb goes off on the main floor Lucifer lifts you up and out of the building.

"Do not let her back in, and I'll be taking that." Lucifer hands you to Miller and he takes his radio.

Seeing Lucifer run back into the bomb infested building snapped you out of it.

"LUCIFER!" You scream after him and start to run, but Miller holds you back.

"Captain! It's not safe in there!" Miller says as he watches one of the windows on the top level blow out.

"Oh, but it's ok that he can?" You screech.

Miller stares at you, "We can't lose you, Captain."

The look you give your second could freeze the fiery pits of Hell.

You grip your radio, "Lucifer!"

You hear some static first before his voice makes it through, "Hello K9!"

"Get. Out. Lucifer."

"I'm perfectly fine, K9!" You hear another bomb go off and more dogs barking, "Now if you'll excuse me I need to rescue as many of these slobbery beats as possible."

You grip the radio, voice wavering, "Why do you care?"

"Because you care, my dear." Then the radio goes silent.

---------------------------------------------------------

Thirty long, dreadful minutes pass by when you see the last bomb go off. Lucifer hasn't spoken on the radio since his last reply.

Miller doesn't stop you from running this time.

"LUCIFER!" You throw open the front door, and the sight before you stops you in your tracks.

Lucifer is standing in the middle of the floor surrounded by dogs of various sizes and ages. A lot of them are injured, but still breathing and walking.

"Bloody dogs…" Lucifer mutters while shaking dust and fur off his suit. He looks up, "Ah, K9!" He opens his arms to gesture the dogs, "The Devil does good work, yes?"

You call out from the front door for everyone to come get the dogs and search the remainder of the building. As they enter you exit and walk away from that building of death.

"K9?" Lucifer jogs after you, and when you're far enough away you turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

You pull him in as close as possible. Scared to speak, so Lucifer speaks for you, "I told you I'd be alright, dear." He pulls you away so you can see his person. His suit has cuts all over, but there's no hint of blood on the exposed skin.

---------------------------------------------------------

"So, she's able to hurt you but you don't bleed around her?" Amenadiel's voice comes through Lucifer's phone.

"Well, I suppose K9 could make me bleed, but no. I am not 'vulnerable' when near her like with the Detective." Lucifer chills by the precinct breakroom where he's able to more clearly see your office door. His brother is outside in some dark alley, watching people come in and out of the precinct.

"What is it with you and these human women being able to get to you?" Maze's annoyance comes through next. She's watching the road and surrounding area of your vet clinic.

"You guys have some weird code talk." Alice's soft voice comes next. She's inside the closed clinic sitting in your office.

"Told you none of this is code, flower girl. Badass Earth is another chick that can hurt my boss."

"Uh-huh…"

Lucifer holds in a chuckle at Amenadiel's sigh, "Ah, Ms. Green?"

"Yes, Lucifer?"

"How is K9 doing? I haven't heard from her since we parted ways at that building."

"Better. Not so much in a gloom state anymore. After hearing that the number of animals you saved is greater than deaths put her spirits up."

Lucifer smiles warmly, "Lovely." His phone beeps and he pulls away to check his screen. Speak of the him, you're calling.

"I'll be back in one moment." He says to the group call, then answers yours, "K9-"

"The messenger came here, to my home. Just now." He can hear in your voice that you are breathing hard and the stomping of bare feet on cement, "I'm chasing after him now."

"I'll be right there, love. Keep your phone on." Lucifer hangs up and goes back into his group call, "Amenadiel, in my car now. Maze & Ms. Green, the messenger appeared at K9's home. She's chasing him." Lucifer hurries out of the precinct and sees his brother enter his car.

"Got it." "Oh no…we're leaving now."

As Lucifer enters his vehicle he turns on the phone tracking app the Detective showed him. He clicks on your contact, hands the phone to his brother, and engine roars out of the parking lot.

---------------------------------------------------------

This guy is quick, but you are quicker. All that time spent running through the woods wasn't a waste.

To get ahead of this guy you decide to cut a corner into the foliage. You match his pace and push forward so you're a few feet ahead. Then, you jump out and successfully push him to the ground.

Your kneecaps skid painfully on the sidewalk as your body tries to stop. Gritting through the pain you stand and jump on top of the man before he can get up.

The two of you begin to fight. Him for his freedom and you to secure him. This guy is good. Throwing multiple punches to your face so you see stars, but you maintain pressure on his knees and attack his stomach.

Just when he throws a last good punch on the back of your head and you start to blackout, a car's headlights envelops you two. Another car does the same as the two in the first car rush over and pulls you two apart.

"K9!"

You manage to blink away the blackness forming in your brain. You look up to see Lucifer holding onto you, concern etched on his face. Looking back to the messenger you see Maze and that guy Amenadiel holding him down. Maze places handcuffs on him.

You see Alice run to you next. She takes Lucifer's place behind you so he can stand next to the hooded man.

"It's about bloody time we caught you." He hisses at the man. He grabs the hood, "Now, who dares backstab my K9?"

He pulls the hood back and you gasp. Lucifer turns furious.

It was Miller.

---------------------------------------------------------

You sit in the room behind the two-way mirror. Freshly bandaged from the precinct medical facility and an ice pack on your head, you watch as Agent Monroe (who you called while getting patched up), Chloe, and Dan interrogate your former second.

You and Chloe had to force Lucifer out of the room. You told him to stay by your side, and that's exactly what he's doing. He's standing behind you with his hands gripping the back of your chair.

You sigh, "I really should've seen this coming."

"Don't, K9." You feel Lucifer grip the chair tighter, "This blame is not on you."

You shrug. Miller explains how he was jealous of you. How you just show up and take the Captain spot right from him. He didn't care that you had previous experience. He cared how you were gone for years from this office. How you didn’t even continue your police career in New York.

No matter what Lucifer says, you really should have seen this coming. You know Miller is not the only one in the K9 division that has these thoughts. You'll have to be more careful now.

Miller also talks about how he was the last one to get close to breaking down Roberto, but then Roberto sent him a letter asking to meet alone. Miller stupidly did, and Roberto made him an offer he couldn't refuse. That's how he became a lackey.

And that's exactly what's happening to you now. The letter Miller dropped off was from Roberto asking for you to meet him at some old factory, alone, to "talk".

"So, what's the plan of action?" Dan asks as he, Monroe, and Chloe walk into the room.

Your eyes stay on Miller until you see him handcuffed and taken out, "I meet with Roberto, of course."

"Not alone," Lucifer says as a fact looking down at you.

"No." You stand up and turn to face everyone. You pat his shoulder, "Not alone."

"Alright." Monroe nods, "When is the meeting?"

"He wrote tomorrow at midnight."

"And here's the address of the factory." Chloe hands him a sticky note.

"Good." Monroe nods his thanks, "Here's what I'm thinking," he looks to everyone, "A small squad. Two, maybe three on each side of the building. While Ms. Earth goes in so do we. Stay in the shadows and disable any hidden reinforcements. When we hear her signal we come out and apprehend Mr. Alejandro."

"Any questions?" Monroe asks.

"What's the signal?" Lucifer asks looking down at you.

You smile and look at him, "How 'bout 'shoot me stab me'?"

He laughs.

---------------------------------------------------------

You death grip your steering wheel.

You're not sure why you're so anxious. You tell yourself it's because you're finally going to catch this guy.

But truthfully, you're terrified that something is going to go wrong. Now there were people you cared about on this, and it was driving you mad how they could get hurt.

Music wasn't even able to calm you down.

The factory finally appears in your vision. When you get there you park next to the only other car, most likely Roberto's. After taking a quick look inside the car you head inside the building.

You're greeted with an expansive space. A space so large and empty that your footsteps echo loudly. Standing in the middle of this space was him.

"Ah, the infamous Animal Whisperer, at last." Roberto gives you an unnerving smile.

You roll your eyes and scoff at the old nickname. You haven't heard it since your orphanage days, "I see I got under your skin enough to do research on me."

"Any smart businessman would research their rivals."

"We are not rivals and you are not a businessman." You bite, "You're a criminal who should've been caught long along."

"Ah, but that is the police's fault, no?"

"Their fault for taking your bribes, which you're no doubt about to try on me. Well let me tell you, pal," you point at him, "nothing you say here and now will keep me from locking your ass up."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He acts like he's pondering, "I have thought about what I could do to make you give up. Maybe threaten your clinic with bombs or every shelter in California. Too much work, however."

"Joy for me."

"Rightly, so. Ah, but then the perfect thing just came to me. Literally." His smile is all teeth. "I know what, or rather who, you fear most in this world Whisperer."

"I fear no one." You lie, and the bastard knows it. You fold your arms to hide the shiver.

"Tsk tsk. You know it's sinful to lie. Nevertheless, what I'm offering you is protection."

"What the hell makes you think I want or need your protection?" You snap.

He laughs, "Because I know what's about to happen, Whisperer, and I am the only one who can prevent it."

"You adding fortune teller to your resume now?"

His smirk is evil, "What's your answer, Whisperer?"

You fake ponder, "You know what?" You pull out your pistol and aim it at his head, "I'd rather you shoot me or stab me."

"Wrong answer. Men!"

You take satisfaction in seeing the bastard's smug smile turn to a frown when instead of his men coming out, your party shows themselves. The two of you are surrounded by Monroe's men, as well as Chloe, Dan, and-

Where's Lucifer?

"Right here, darling." As if he read your mind, the man missing was standing right behind you. He smiles, "You're cute when you jump."

"Do you want to get punched in the gut again?" You holster your gun and face him. Behind you, Monroe arrests Roberto while Chloe, Dan, and the others round up his men.

Lucifer makes a pained face, "Definitely not." You laugh and that makes him smile, "So, dog boy is finally caught. Care to celebrate over at LUX? I can have Patrick make you a wonderful fruit smoothie."

"Thanks for the offer, but I just want to relax at home right now. Tomorrow night?" You smile at him and touch his arm.

"Of course, darling." Lucifer walks you to your car and watches you until you're out of sight. He turns around and sees Monroe putting Roberto in the backseat of his car.

Lucifer smiles wickedly and his eyes flash red, "Showtime."

---------------------------------------------------------

Monroe had the LAPD put Roberto Alejandro in a holding cell while the paperwork was done. Roberto sat in the smallest and farthest away cell the LAPD had.

Perfect.

"It does amaze me how I've come to love scum like you lose their freedom when I'm usually all about freedom." Lucifer Morningstar appears before Roberto's cell door. Hands in pockets and a teeth baring grin, "Then again, this place does remind me of home."

"What the hell do you want pin-up?" Roberto asks as Lucifer looks around the space.

Lucifer's eyes focus back on the criminal. He removes his hands from his pockets and grips the bar door, "Lucifer Morningstar, and before you roll your eyes like every other human, let me show you proof." Lucifer leans close to the door, "K9 is in no way sinful. However-"

Roberto screams. The Devil is out.

"I am."

Lucifer pulls open the locked iron bar door and steps inside. Roberto cowers in a corner, unable to see the wide-open door of freedom due to the Devil before him.

"Please…." Roberto shakes violently. Sweat immediately pours from him, "Please don't hurt me…."

"Well, you see, I usually do, but I promised my Demon that she'd get to do the torture on you." Lucifer steps to the side and gestures to Mazikeen of the Lilum. Her grotesque half-face smiles at the human as she twirls her daggers.

"But before I allow her to destroy your body, I have a question for you dog boy." Lucifer predatory walks to the human and kneels down before him.

"Who is after Earth, or who you stupidly call the 'Animal Whisperer'?"

"The...the Kidnapper."

"The who?"

"I…I don't know him personally. He, she, hell could be multiple people. It's just a name. Notorious at making people disappear."

"What does this 'Kidnapper' want with Earth?"

"N-nothing personally." Roberto shakes his head, "The Kidnapper takes jobs. People pay 'im to take people and keep the cops away. After the cops give up he takes them to the client."

"When is this stain coming for her?"

Roberto Alejandro is the first human Lucifer watches become smug in the face of the Devil.

"She's already gone."

---------------------------------------------------------

"I know I said I was ready to face him, but...this is just too soon." You pace back and forth in your living room. Alice stands there watching you move, "I mean, it hasn't even been a year yet!"

"Maybe he was just messing with you, Earth." Alice tries to reassure you.

"No. No no no, Alice. He absolutely knew." Your pacing increases and now your hands are in your hair. "How could someone like him find out?! The only people who know the truth are you and Damien, and I sure as shit know neither one of you said anything."

"Earth, please calm down." Alice grabs you to stop yourself, "This isn't helping you."

"Yeah...yeah you're right." You sigh, "Ok...ok let's fortify this place."

You walk up the steps to your bedroom as Alice goes to the closet next to the kitchen. Just as you're about to open your bedroom closet something catches your eye in its mirror doors.

Your plants on the balcony are all destroyed.

You hear Alice scream and something breaks. You spin around and that's when your closet doors open and arms come around you. You get the person off with the ball buster move, then spin and punch him in the face followed by a kick to the stomach. You run from the room and catch a glimpse of Alice fighting another person as two more men come from your balcony. One of the men throws a punch to your already sore head and you see stars, but manage to still take them both down. Obviously these intruders didn't know about your strength.

Alice screams in pain and you look to see her fall down hard. You run to help her-

"Idiots. The boss gave us this for a reason."

An arm wraps around your head and a needle enters your neck. An all too familiar drug starts to enter your bloodstream.

"NO!" You kick and punch, but by now your body is locked by other arms surrounding you. You free your head long enough to see Alice motionless on the floor as three other men surround you.

"Your freedom is over." The voice that holds you from behind says.

The drugs take you into that pit of darkness.

---------------------------------------------------------

"She still hasn't picked up?" Lucifer questions Maze as he speeds down the road.

"For the last time no. I've been trying since we got in the car!"

"What about Alice? They live in the same complex!"

Maze becomes quiet, "Tried her too. She's not picking up either."

Lucifer yells and slams the gas pedal down.

---------------------------------------------------------

The Devil and his Demon arrive at your apartment complex. Lucifer doesn't even park. Just stops the car abruptly. He and Maze run inside and up the flights of stairs.

"K9!!!" Lucifer yells banging on your door.

No response.

Maze kicks in the door and the two enter into a wrecked apartment. Vases of plants and picture frames lay broken on the floor. Lucifer walks further in to look inside your bedroom. One closest door lay broken on the floor. Looking outside, he sees all your plant pots shattered, and the plants themselves stepped on in a hurry entrance and escape.

"LUCIFER!" Maze yells from the living room and he rushes over.

Alice is laying on the floor, unmoving. Maze quickly kneels and presses two fingers to Alice's throat.

Maze lets out a breath she's been holding, "She's alive."

Lucifer releases air from his nostrils. He leaves her to stand on your balcony. He looks up to the night sky. He grips the handrails and tries to calm the Devil in him.

He calls Chloe.

[aziraamane]

Human AU - Part 5

(Previous) - (First)

September faded to October, November hot, or should that be cold, on its heels. In that time, there had been countless playdates - Ezra dropping off an excitable Warlock at Crowley's flat, or Adam walking back with Ezra and Warlock to spend a few hours with them in their home above the bookshop, till Crowley finished his various necessary businesses and was able to pick him up; infinite mugs of tea and/or coffee drunk, endless jokes and smiles and emotions thought long lost, buried into the ground until they weren't.

Crowley floated through those months on cloud nine. 

I have a friend. An actual friend. One who doesn't look at me like the Bank of Fucking England with a cock.

As far as socialites went, Crowley didn't mingle with the crowd, and as such, didn't have what anyone would call a social circle. He went along with whatever his mother, brothers, and sister told him to, played his part, and scuttled off home, back into willful isolation. Friends were a bother he couldn't be arsed with, family even worse.

But Ezra is...different. 

He wouldn't get his hopes up, yet. He could still turn out like everyone else. But for now, Crowley was content, simply pleased that he'd forged a connection.

"The hell are you looking so dopey about?"

Ugh. There came the gravelly tones that could suck the life out of anyone present. 

Hassel Crowley, eldest now Lucifer was dead, was, to put it in milder terms, a right ugly bastard. He had pallid skin, and froggy eyes, and hair like a thatch of mouldy straw. He smelled of stale smoke, and always had a cigarette in his hand. He offended Crowley's senses, all of them at once. 

"Fuck off, Hassel."

"No, no, I want to know, really," said Hassel, smiling a sickly sneer. He took a drag of his cigarette, long and slow, eyes watching Crowley mockingly. "Been a while since you've smiled like that."

Crowley reached for his wine, knocking back the glass in one. "If you must know," he said, setting the empty glass down with a click, "Adam's made a friend. They've been playing together a lot. Quite lovely, really."

"Adam? Luci's brat?"

"Yes, Hassel, your nephew. Do try to keep up, yes?"

"Don't like kids," Hassel muttered.

"You don't like much, to be fair."

"Shut up, you bumbling idiots," snapped the drawling tones of their mother. 

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Only one in the fucking room with a doctorate and an actual brain cell, and I get called an idiot?

Then again, what else could be expected from his family?

"You! Out there!" Beatrice Crowley, better known to the world as Bee, snapped her fingers in the direction of her newest assistant, who scurried over dutifully. Without looking up, Bee shoved a folder at him. "I want those photocopied and laminated in ten minutes, and on every desk in this place, so make - it - snappy! Go, go!" She glared at his rapidly retreating back. "And don't trip over your -" He stumbled and fell, dropping the folder, "-shoelaces. Ugh, useless, the lot of them!"

Bee was pushing seventy, but looked barely a day over fifty. Never a hair of her black bob out of place, she dressed immaculately, carried herself with a confident air, and yet was so ruthless and cold that she could never be anything but as ugly as Hassel. The rest of the brood weren't much better, Crowley thought, and Bee’s habit of wearing a red and black bow atop her head made him think rather uneasily of a large fly.

"How many assistants have you gone through so far this year, Mother?" Hassel smirked.

"Too many," she replied, eyes on her paperwork, "and I don't care to remember anything of them."

"Charming," Crowley snorted as he picked up the decanter on the table.

"Anthony, I expect you to walk out of here still able to put one foot in front of the other."

"Oh, the years have had me build up quite a tolerance, Mother dear," he drawled, topping up his glass. 

"Nice way of saying you're a drunk," Hassel said.

"Well, I do pride myself on having a more sophisticated tongue than you lot."

"You better watch that tongue, baby brother."

Bee threw a stapler at Hassel. "Out."

"But-"

"Out!"

Hassel glared at Crowley, stuck his cigarette between his lips, and stormed out of the office. 

"Something on your mind, Mother?" Crowley knocked back half his glass and sighed. Oh, that was good wine.

Bee pursed her lips as she tapped her pen on her desk. Finally she pushed her paperwork aside to glare at her youngest son. "What am I to do with any of you?" she snapped. "If Lionel and Hassel aren't getting into bar fights, it's Dana letting blunders slip through the editing, or you flirting with guests and showing off on the red carpet like some vapid damsel. At least Lucifer had some sense. Only one of you that ever did."

Crowley mock-pouted. "And here I thought you loved me."

"Listen to me, idiot. You're forty, and all you have to show for your years on Earth is that atrocious car and a boy you didn't even want to take on in the first place."

"I reckon the PhD counts for something, Mother." Crowley pretended he didn’t hear the slight about his beloved Bentley.

"Oh, yes. Stars. How novel." Bee snorted, derision dripping from her tone. She pulled a sheaf of papers out of a desk and eyed them over a minute, then tossed them to Crowley, who made no move to pick them up. "Our shares are going down faster than when Lucifer died,” she said. “They could have floated longer had you agreed to inherit his business, but you, moron, sold it - so you're going to do something to earn something back for the family."

"Am I?"

"Yes. You are." Bee steepled her fingers together. "You’re always causing trouble with the nearest person that bats their lashes at you, but when was the last time you actually dated?"

“Uh...same year those little butterfly hairclips went out of fashion? The fuck am I supposed to remember something like that?”

“Well, that’s going to change if you know what’s good for our family, Anthony.” Bee pushed herself back from the desk and stalked round it to snatch the wine glass from her son’s hand - though not before he got one last deep swig out of it. “Find someone. Man, woman, something in between, I don’t care, but I want to see you married by the end of next year. You hear me?”

Crowley choked on the wine still in his mouth.

~*~

Weekends at work usually passed by quickly enough. The library was almost always quiet, the only students around having confined themselves to the silent study areas, headphones in situ and pens scribbling away in between frantic turning of pages.

Warlock often accompanied Ezra to the library. He would take a handheld console and its charger, maybe one or two of his own books, and sit on a beanbag in the corner to amuse himself for the duration of his father's shift. He liked Newt, and Newt wasn't much more than a boy himself, bless him, so they got on well; on quieter occasions Newt could usually be found with Warlock on his lap as they “nerded out” together. Apparently consoles were immune to Newt’s destructive tendencies, something Ezra could be thankful for - those gimmicks were expensive.

At the present moment of this particular Saturday, Warlock had taken it upon himself to help Ezra put back the returned books to their designated shelves. A five year old couldn't possibly begin to understand the Dewey decimal system, but he was trying, and it warmed Ezra's heart to no end. 

"What's this word, dad?" Warlock held up the book in his hand. 

"That says “philosophy,” darling. Means a lot of old men in old times, sitting around discussing things."

"Sounds boring."

"Ah, but some of the greatest minds were borne of philosophy, my dear boy."

"You're funny, dad."

Ezra ruffled his hair. "As are you." 

The click of brisk footsteps drew Ezra away from Warlock, curious. A tall figure rounded the bookshelves, and Ezra felt a false smile jump unbidden to his lips. 

Gabriel Fell was the dean of King's Business School, and the eldest of his siblings. He was pleasant enough, but condescending and a little too mocking even when he didn't intend to be. He was also dashingly handsome, with a chiseled jaw and tall, muscular stature; everything the shorter, softer, rounder Ezra was not. 

"Gabriel. How nice to see you."

"Ezra! You're looking well. And the little tyke!" Gabriel knelt to fist bump a grinning Warlock. "How you doing, buddy?"

"I'm good!"

"Great. That's really great." Gabriel straightened up and gave a none-too-gentle punch to Ezra's shoulder; he winced, rubbing the sore area briefly. 

"You got a minute?" chanced Gabriel.

Ezra slid the book cart away with a resigned expression. "I suppose I can spare the time. Warlock, darling, will you go sit with young Newt awhile?"

"Okay." Warlock skipped off, hair bouncing around his face.

Gabriel watched him go with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Good kid,” he murmured. “You've done a great job with him, Ezra."

"Thank you." Ezra clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "Shall we walk?"

"Yeah, let's do that." 

Gabriel fell into step beside Ezra, his gait long and loping, one striding step for every two of his little brother’s, a dance of position much like a reflection of their real lives. Gabriel had always been bigger, better, stronger, and it showed in every fibre of his being from adolescence to adulthood; Gabriel who played for the football team, Gabriel who secured the scholarship...Ezra never had it in him to be jealous, but a little put out? Yes, certainly, if only because the rest of the family expected the same of him and never got it.

"So I wanted to let you know," Gabriel said, "that I've heard a little rumour through the grapevine. A position is opening up in Arts and Humanities next year for a History lecturer."

Ezra made a low noise in his throat. "Fascinating."

"Sure you don't want to apply?"

"Gabriel, you know I gave up studying towards my doctorate long ago."

Gabriel sighed. "Ah, Ezra, you're too good to be lounging in a library for the rest of your life. You could be so much more!"

"I'm very happy where I am," Ezra said stoutly. "I don't need to be more."

"Hm. Well. That's a shame, truly. It would be brilliant to see you teaching again."

"And I enjoyed my time teaching, but undergraduates are vastly different from high school students. Not quite my style. Honestly, Gabriel, sometimes I worry you don't really know me at all."

Gabriel fixed Ezra with a steely look. "Would that you let me get to know you."

"You're my brother, for heaven's sake. You should know me already."

"Alright, then how about you come to dinner at my place tomorrow? Sandy's doing the meat. That's what I actually came to talk to you about, but I got all excited about that vacancy and - anyway, what do you say? You'll come, right?"

Ezra paused. Sandy did have a certain touch with roasts, that was true. He nodded after a moment. "Yes, we'll be there."

"Hm...you reckon you could get a babysitter for Warlock?"

"Why would I need to do that?"

"Well, it'd be a nice opportunity for us all to get together again, y'know, the way we used to. Michaela and Uriel are coming as well. Have a few drinks, crack some jokes, stuff not for kids' ears, you understand."

Ezra deflated. "...I will see what I can do."

"Great! See you around, let's say seven?" Gabriel gave Ezra's shoulder another punch and ambled off, hand raising in farewell.

So that was how it would be. A night of teasing and humiliation disguised as playful sibling rivalry. Well, one must keep up appearances with the family wherever possible. Sighing, Ezra pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and called Crowley.

"Hey, angel." Crowley picked up on the second ring.

"Ah, hello, my dear.” Ezra tried very hard to ignore the sudden flutter in his chest at hearing Crowley’s smooth tones. “Um, quick question - does your nanny take on more than just Adam?"

"Eh? Uh, don't know, actually - d'you need someone to watch Warlock?"

"Tomorrow evening, yes. Last-minute arrangement, quite unavoidable, I'm afraid. I can pay Miss Device for her time, of course."

"Don't worry 'bout that. Bring him over."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'll cover it. My treat."

"Oh, I think you might be the angel here, Anthony."

Crowley snorted. "Less of that, I've a reputation to keep. Right. See you tomorrow."

[azookiex3]

A Devil’s Love: Chapter 8

AN: I apologize for such long waiting updates! With S5 filming I now have a time limit. I want to get this story through S4 before S5 comes out. I will do my best to get updates out quicker! 

Check out this story's playlist on Spotify! If you do, please read the description so you can see how the songs are organized!

Warnings: Swearing, Animal Deaths, Mentions of blood/painful injuries

AO3 , Fanfiction Net , Wattpad

Tag List: @insanity-is-always-fun @anushay1998 @emiwrites3reads @i-am-canada-13 @heart-of-pots-and-pans @tinyybiceps @jessicarene99

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Chapter 8: Shoot Me Stab Me

"Do you usually snoop through a woman's place?" You say sarcastically. You walk to the couch and plop down next to Lucifer. You sit sideways so you're facing him, and rest your left elbow on the back of the couch and use your hand to rest your head.

"No, but I'd much rather be snooping through your underwear drawer than these-" he shakes the letters in his hand, "atrocious words!"

You sigh, "Lucifer-"

"Have you told anyone about these?"

You look at him like he was being ridiculous, "No, of course not. Why'd you think I hid them?"

"Not even this one?" He holds up one of the letters, and you know exactly which one it is without even having to look.

"'You're going to regret stepping into my business, bitch. Boom.'" Lucifer shakes the paper once more and looks at you with an expression you can only describe as angry/desperate/worried, "Isn't this something you should tell that FBI agent about? He is still working on your bomb case, yes?"

"Yes he is and yes this is something I should have told him as soon as I got it, even the first letter. But Lucifer," you place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, "There's a reason why I haven't. Not yet." You remove your hand and motion to all the papers he has, "Before I explain see if you can do me a favor. I wrote the time, date, and location on the back when I received these. Can you find any kind of pattern?"

Now he looks at you like you were being ridiculous, but he complies with your request. You watch his eyes read each time stamp with a strong intensity, but slouch your shoulders when you see his face scrunch up.

"That's what I figured." You sigh, "Alright. I was going to wait until we ate buuut I'll explain my theory I talked about in the car now." You start collecting the letters from Lucifer.

"First off, I'm 99% sure Roberto wrote these because of this last one." you hold the bomb threat, "Second, I think the messenger he's using is an inside source. More specifically: someone in my K9 division."

"You know of someone else who could send these kind of words to you?" Lucifer stares at you.

"That's what you gleaned from that?"

"At first yes. If you believe someone else is after you I'd very much like to know."

You sigh and rub your brow, "You don't need to know Lucifer."

"So there is then? Is it someone responsible for you having those nightmarish flashbacks?" He presses on.

"Lucifer, drop it." You say sternly. You both have a stare down. Then Lucifer looks away with an irritated sigh.

"Fine. I'll drop it, for now." He turns slightly on the couch to face you better and rests his clasped hands on his lap, "So, why are you so sure this Roberto fellow is writing these?"

You unclench your jaw and release some air. I got to stop being close to him, "Well, his is the only 'business' I've put myself between."

"And why do you think his inside is in the K9 division?"

"Because it makes sense. How else can a notorious dog fighting boss avoid the authorities so easily? Plus, these letters show up where I'm not or right when I've left." You sigh and place the letters back in the coffee table, "It has to be someone on my team, because I know no regular officer would care about my clinic, and these have only popped up there or at my office in the precinct."

"In a way, he's giving you the message that he's always watching you?" Lucifer says quietly.

You look at him sadly, "Yeah, and after the bomb went off in your club…" You sigh, "I'm really sorry about that by the way."

"Don't." He says sternly and raises a finger at you, "You're not the one that tried to end your life by placing a bomb under your car."

"But if I would have told someone about these letters sooner-"

"You're trusting your gut, K9. Being around the Detective for so long I can tell that's a good thing to do." He gives you a reassuring smile.

You smile back, "Thanks Lucifer. So, you want to help me out again? It seems I can't catch this backstabber myself."

"Help you catch the bloke who swore to protect humans but yet helping in trying to end your life with some dog boy?" His smile has bite in it, "You can count on me, K9. Always."

"Good." You close the coffee table and stand, "But we're eating first. Pizza?"

---------------------------------------------------------

"This backstabber better show himself quicker. The Detective is starting to get suspicious of all the time I'm spending here." Lucifer says on the phone to you as he side glances at Chloe inside Ella's lab. 

You and him have been holding this stake out for a week now, and still no sign of the messenger. Lucifer watched the precinct while you stayed at your clinic.

"I told you we should switch it up." You reply to him. He imagines you rolling your eyes while you sit at your desk.

"You're certain you don't want to tell her? Clearly she's not in on it."

"Of course, but Chloe is a damn good detective. If this guy sees that she's hanging around my offices more they'll know what's up." He hears you chuckle lightly, "With you it just seems like you're being a weirdo, as usual."

"I beg your pardon?" Lucifer places a hand over his heart in feign shock. You must have heard it in his voice for you start to laugh. He smiles and settles more comfortably in the chair. His focus returns to your office door.

"Nothing out of the ordinary on your end, I take it?" He asks.

"Besides seeing a body builder bringing in his bunny in fear of her having a cold? Mmm, nope." 

Lucifer sighs, "That's another thing I'm missing! The beautiful men and women in my club. You know, this is the longest I've gone without-"

"Lucifer!" Chloe steps out of the lab with Ella behind her, "We're ready to go!"

"Thank you Chlo Chlo for the save!" Lucifer listens to your sigh of relief, "Talk to you later darling."

"Yup." You hang up.

Ella and Dan walk up the stairs with Chloe and Lucifer behind, "Who do you keep talking to so much?" Chloe questions him.

"K9." He replies easily.

"Oh," Chloe looks a bit shocked, "What for? Is everything alright?"

"Eventually, yes." Lucifer smiles down at her and pats her shoulder, "Now, what's this case about again?"

Chloe sighs.

---------------------------------------------------------

You walk into the precinct the next morning. You were called in to help with the weekly K9 training since one of the trainers got a cold.

"Good morning, K9!"

"Hey, Earth!"

You look up from making your tea at the stairs to see Lucifer and Chloe walking down. You smile and wave back to them while saying good morning. 

Chloe gives you a hug and whispers in your ear, "You're ok right?"

You squeeze and whisper back, "Of course."

She pulls back and smiles at you. Lucifer tells her he'll make her coffee and she nods in thanks before going to her desk.

"Let me know when the tea's done, yeah?" You smile at him.

"When did the Devil become a common British servant." He mumbles. You laugh and wink at him before retreating to your office. 

You open your door and brace your mind at the pile of reports on your desk. All of them were completed assignments that you just needed to look over and sign. Here and there you'd find joking notes from your team. 

You step around the desk and pull out the chair, and hear a crinkling sound. Looking down you see an envelope. You pick it up and open it carefully, then sigh.

Damn it.

"I decided to make yours as well to embrace this new role of mine." Lucifer smiles as he walks into your office holding your tea, but his smile falls when he sees the solemn look on your face.

You hold up the new Roberto letter, "He got under your nose too." 

You place the letter upside down and grab a pen to start writing your notes on the back. With your head down, you didn't see Lucifer's eyes flash red. 

"It seems we're going to need more eyes." You sigh and look up at him. You take your tea and nod thanks to him.

"But now we need to wait for another lead."

---------------------------------------------------------

A few days have passed since receiving the new letter. You told Lucifer to take this time off to, "help himself,'' while you wait for a lead to pop up on Roberto's operations. 

You're dragged from your thoughts as your precinct office phone rings. You pick it up and are greeted with Miller's voice. 

The ASPCA, along with a couple of your recruits who volunteered to help, think they have made a huge breakthrough. They believe they found Roberto  Alejandro's breeding facility. 

Which means this mission will need to be planned carefully, and incredibly dangerous.

You make the quick decision to not tell Lucifer. He isn't your partner. He's basically a civilian you roped in. You weren't going to place him in any danger.

You peek out your window, and seeing that Chloe was busy with Ella and Lucifer was nowhere to be seen you make a quick exit.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Alright everyone!" You say loudly in the small room that holds your entourage of officers. Everyone quiets down immediately and gives you their full attention.

"We're about to hit Roberto Alejandro's heart of operation: his breeding facility." You start, "The ASPCA and I have been going back and forth for a plan of action for the last 24 hours. Finally I got them to cave into mine." You look around the room, "Some ASPCA officers along with Miller's team will create a diversion at the front of the building, as well as Blanch's team creating a disturbance at the back. I will be sneaking in to disable any traps and placing markers for where all the dogs are. Miller and Blanch," you look to each of them, "you're responsible for dragging out all of Roberto's men and not letting any escape. Some extra ASPCA officers will be hiding on either side of the building to make sure no one escapes."

"So, that's the plan. After all that we save these poor animals." You look around the room, "Any questions?"

"Ma'am!" Blanch raises her hand, "Are you positive you don't want backup?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry ma'am. We're just worried for you." There's a slight murmur through the room in agreement with Blanch, as well as a few of the K9's whining along with Buster.

You smile at everyone, "I appreciate your concerns, but I'll be fine. Just focus on your teammates. I'll be in radio contact."

When no one else raises their hand you dismiss them and watch them all leave. Once the room is clear you exit and start to head up the stairs.

"Earth!"

You stop in the middle of the stairs and turn around to see Chloe at the bottom, "You sure you don't want me to tag along with you?"

"You sound like everyone else." You laugh and wave to her, "I'll be fine Chlo."

"Alright." Chloe nods and smiles, "Good luck. Hope you catch this bastard once and for all."

"Oh I will, eventually." You turn, walk a few more steps up, then look back to your best friend, "And hey, don't tell Lucifer ok?"

"Yeah. Sure. Of course." Chloe gives you a wide smile and waves goodbye. With your back turned and heading up the rest of the steps you couldn't see her two fingers cross each other.

---------------------------------------------------------

From what you can hear outside and the radio chatter in your ear, your plan is going perfectly.

While the north and south distractions went off you waited for the all clear from the east and west sides. Once heard you quickly ran to the building and up the fire escape. You decided it's best to start from top to bottom. After forcing a window open you move stealthy through the building.

So far you've disabled two cameras and one trip wire. You've also come across two apartments filled with dogs.

"West to Spy. Just saw a man go through your opening." You hear through your ear piece as you lockpick the last door on the top floor.

Shit-

"Hello dar-" You spin on your heels and give the man behind you a gut wrenching punch. When he kneeled over you move a knee cap to his face, but a hand holding a very familiar looking ring stopped the attack.

"Lucifer?!" You hiss through clenched teeth. You help him sit on the floor and lean against the wall, "What the hell?!"

"I should be the one saying that to you!" Lucifer wheezes out, still holding his gut, "You hurt me!"

"No shit Sherlock! That's what happens when you sneak up on me, and on a mission!" 

"No no, you misunderstand. You hurt me, with a punch!" Lucifer looks up at you with a questioning gaze, "Just what are you, my dear?"

You stare at him, "What-" the sound of the front door slamming open underneath you made you freeze. You decide to slam open the door you've been lock picking and drag Lucifer inside with you. Thankfully this room looks to be just a basic apartment for Roberto's men.

You pull Lucifer into one of the bedrooms and stand flush against the wall. You pull out your gun in preparation for the men you hear climbing up the floors.

"What are you doing here Lucifer?!" You hiss at him while keeping your eyes and aim trained on the apartment door.

"The Detective let it slip what you were doing today. Innocently and completely by accident, of course." He adds when he sees the look on your face.

"But K9," Lucifer steps over to the other wall next to the bedroom door so you can see him in your peripheral, "Why didn't you tell me about this? I thought we were in this together now?"

The slight pain in his voice makes you take a peek at him, "I only asked you to help watch for the messenger, and that's all. You're not my partner, Lucifer." You look to the front door again, "You're just a civilian I've roped into this. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Well, too late for that darling." He gives you a small smile as he rests his hand on his stomach, then grows serious once more, "This mission is important to you and I rightly don't appreciate this dog man threatening you. Of course I'm going to help."

You look at him hard, and that's when the front door burst open. Lucifer goes flush against his wall as you fire away. Thankfully it was only two guys who couldn't aim for shit.

"Right, but before I fully help I need to test out something." He says when you stop firing and the bodies fall. He stands in front of your aim, "Pull a Detective and shoot me!"

"What?" You're astonished.

"Come on K9! Just give me a little shot!" He's smiling and opens his arms wide.

"I'm not going to shoot you!!!"

"Don't worry, I completely understand. You want to be original! Right!" He snaps his fingers, "How 'bout you stab me with that pretty knife you have hidden in your boot!"

"God, I knew you were weird but psycho too?" You push past him and out the door.

"Come on, K9!" He chases after you as you head down the stairs to the next level, "Shoot me! Stab me!"

---------------------------------------------------------

You and Lucifer clear the rest of the floors and are now on the last door of the main level. There were fewer traps on the lower levels and you're thankful for that since Lucifer kept distracting you with his bizarre request. You think you've disabled all the cameras and counted a total of eight rooms filled with dogs. This apartment complex has a total of twelve rooms.

You and Lucifer only encountered a few other men, which were easily disabled with either your gun or Lucifer's fists.

"I believe we got them all ma'am!" You hear Blanch call on the radio.

You pull out your own radio for the first time this mission, "Good. Any casualties?"

"Just some grazed shots on all four sides, Captain. No one fell." Miller responds.

You take in a breath of relief, "Good work everyone! I have eight apartments filled with dogs, and one that looks to be drug manufacturing. Round up the trucks and let's-"

"K9, one moment." Lucifer interrupts and you look at him, "Do you hear that?"

You raise a brow at him, but start to listen. You can softly hear dogs on your floor start to whimper, and something...else? You remove your earpiece to listen more closely.

It was beeping. A beeping that came from the last room you opened.

"Oh shit-" 

Before you know it Lucifer has you pinned to the floor with you beneath him as that room explodes and debris flies out. 

The dogs are barking now, on all levels, and you can hear more beeping.

"ALERT!" You scream in your radio, "There's bombs in each room, and it sounds like they're at different times! Forget the trucks and get-"

You hear another bomb go off on the floor above you, and the barking of dogs decreases drastically.

You're in complete shock. You faintly hear the radio go off and Lucifer calling your name. When another bomb goes off on the main floor Lucifer lifts you up and out of the building.

"Do not let her back in, and I'll be taking that." Lucifer hands you to Miller and he takes his radio. 

Seeing Lucifer run back into bomb infested building snapped you out of it.

"LUCIFER!" You scream after him and start to run, but Miller holds you back.

"Captain! It's not safe to go in there!" Millet says as he watches one of the windows on the top level blow out.

"Oh, but it's ok that he can?" You screech.

Miller stares at you, "We can't lose you Captain."

The look you gave your second could freeze the fiery pits of Hell. 

You grab his radio, "Lucifer!"

You hear some static first before his voice makes it through, "Hello K9!"

"Get. Out. Lucifer."

"I'm perfectly fine, K9!" You hear another bomb go off and more dogs barking, "Now if you'll excuse me I need to rescue as many of these slobbery beats as possible."

You grip the radio, voice wavering, "Why do you care?"

"Because you care, my dear." Then the radio goes silent.

---------------------------------------------------------

Thirty long, dreadful minutes pass by when you see the last bomb go off. Lucifer hasn't spoken on the radio since his last reply.

Miller doesn't stop you from running this time.

"LUCIFER!" You throw open the front door, and the sight before you stops you in your tracks. 

Lucifer is standing in the middle of the floor surrounded by dogs of various size and age. A lot of them are injured, but still breathing and walking.

"Bloody dogs…" Lucifer mutters while shaking dust and fur off his suit. He looks up, "Ah, K9!" He opens his arms to gesture the dogs, "The Devil does good work, yes?"

You call out from the front door for everyone to come get the dogs and search the remainder of the building. As they enter you exit and walk away from that building of death.

"K9?" Lucifer jogs after you, and when you're far enough away you turn on him and wrap your arms around his neck.

You pull him as close as possible. Scared to speak, so Lucifer speaks for you, "I told you I'd be alright, dear." He pulls you away so you can see his person. His suit had cuts all over, but there was no hint of blood on the exposed skin.

---------------------------------------------------------

"So, she's able to hurt you but you don't bleed around her?" Amenadiel's voice comes through Lucifer's phone. 

"Well, I suppose K9 could make me bleed, but no. I am not 'vulnerable' when near her like with the Detective." Lucifer chills by the precinct breakroom where he's able to more clearly see your office door. His brother is outside in some dark alley, watching people come in and out of the precinct.

"What is it with you and these human women being able to get to you?" Maze's annoyance comes through next. She is watching the road and surrounding area of your vet clinic.

"You guys have some weird code talk." Alice's soft voice comes next. She is inside the closed clinic sitting inside your office. 

"Told you none of this is code, doll. Badass Earth is another chick that can hurt my boss."

"Uh-huh…"

Lucifer holds in a chuckle at Amenadiel's sigh, "Ah, Ms. Green?"

"Yes, Lucifer?"

"How is K9 doing? I haven't heard from her since we parted ways at that building."

"Better. Not so much in a gloom state anymore. After hearing that the number of animals you saved is greater than deaths put her spirits up."

Lucifer smiles warmly, "Lovely." His phone beeps and he pulls away to check his screen. Speak of the him, you were now calling.

"I'll be back in one moment." He says to the group call, then answers yours, "K9-"

"The messenger came here, to my home. Just now." He can hear in your voice that you are breathing hard and the stomping of bare feet on cement, "I'm chasing after him now."

"I'll be right there, love. Keep your phone on." Lucifer hangs up and goes back into his group call, "Amenadiel, in my car now. Maze & Ms. Green, the messenger appeared at K9's home. She's chasing him." Lucifer hurries out of the precinct and sees his brother enter his car.

"Got it."

"Oh no…we're leaving now."

As Lucifer enters his vehicle he turns on the phone tracking app the Detective showed him. He clicks on your contact, hands the phone to his brother, then engine roar out of the parking lot.

---------------------------------------------------------

This guy is quick, but you are quicker. All that time spent running through the woods wasn't a waste.

To get ahead of this guy you decide to cut a corner into the foliage. You match his pace, and push forward so you're a few feet ahead. Then, you jump out and successfully push him to the ground.

Your kneecaps skid painfully on the sidewalk as your body tries to stop. Gritting through the pain you stand and jump on top the man before he can get up. 

The two of you begin to fight. Him for his freedom and you to secure him. This guy was good. Throwing multiple punches to your face so you see stars, but you maintained pressure on his knees and attack his stomach.

Just when he throws that last good punch on the back of your head and you start to black out, a car's headlights envelops you two. Another car does the same as the two in the first car rush over and pull you two apart.

"K9!" 

You manage to blink away the blackness forming in your brain. You look up to see Lucifer holding onto you, concern etched on his face. Looking back to the messenger you see Maze and that guy Amenadiel holding him down. Maze places handcuffs on him.

You see Alice run to you next. She takes Lucifer's place behind you so he can stand next to the hooded man.

"It's about bloody time we caught you." He hisses at the man. He grabs his hood, "Now, who dares backstab my K9?"

He pulls the hood back and you gasp. Lucifer turns furious.

It was Miller.

---------------------------------------------------------

You sit in the room behind the two way mirror. Freshly bandage from the precinct medical facility and an ice pack on your head, you watch as Agent Monroe (who you called while getting patched up), Chloe, and Dan interrogate your former second.

You and Chloe had to force Lucifer out of the room. You told him to stay by your side, and that's exactly what he's doing. He's standing behind you with his hands gripping the back of your chair.

You sigh, "I really should've seen this coming."

"Don't, K9." You feel Lucifer grip the chair tighter, "This blame is not on you."

You shrug. Miller explains how he was jealous of you. How you just show up and take the Captain spot right from him. He didn't care that you had previous experience. He cared how you were gone for years from this office. How you didn’t even continue your police career in New York. 

Not matter what Lucifer says, you really should have seen this coming. You know Miller is not the only one in the K9 division that has these thoughts. You'll have to be more careful now.

Miller also talks about how he was the last one to get close to breaking down Roberto, but then Roberto sent him a letter asking to meet alone. Miller, stupidly did, and Roberto made him an offer he couldn't refuse. That's how he became a lackey.

And that's exactly what's happening to you now. The letter Miller dropped off was from Roberto asking for you to meet him at some old factory, alone, to "talk".

"So, what's the plan of action?" Dan asks as he, Monroe, and Chloe walk into the room. 

Your eyes stay on Miller until you see him handcuffed and taken out, "I meet with Roberto, of course."

"Not alone." Lucifer says as a fact looking down at you.

"No." You stand up and turn to face everyone. You pat his shoulder, "Not alone."

"Alright." Monroe nods, "When is the meeting?"

"He wrote tomorrow at midnight."

"And here's the address of the factory." Chloe hands him a sticky note.

"Good." Miller nods his thanks, "Here's what I'm thinking," he looks to everyone, "A small squad. Two, maybe three on each side of the building. While Ms. Earth goes in so do we. Stay in the shadows and disable any hidden reinforcements. When we hear her signal we come out and apprehend Mr. Alejandro."

"Any questions?" Monroe asks.

"What's the signal?" Lucifer asks looking down at you.

You smile and look at him, "How 'bout 'Shoot me stab me'?"

He laughs.

---------------------------------------------------------

You death grip your steering wheel.

You're not sure why you're so anxious. You tell yourself it's because you're finally going to catch this guy.

But truthfully, you're terrified that something is going to go wrong. Now there were people you cared about on this, and it was driving you mad how they could get hurt.

Music wasn't even able to calm you down.

The factory finally appears in your vision. When you get there you park next to the only other car, most likely Roberto's. After taking a quick look inside the car you head inside the building. 

You're greeted with an expansive space. A space so large and empty that your footsteps echo loudly. Standing in the middle of this space was him.

"Ah, the infamous Animal Whisperer, at last." Roberto gives you an unnerving smile.

You roll your eyes and scoff at the old nickname. You haven't heard it since NY, "I see I got under your skin enough to do research on me." 

"Any smart businessman would research their rivals."

"We are not rivals and you are not a businessman." You bite, "You're a criminal who should've been caught long along."

"Ah, but that is the police's fault, no?"

"Their fault for taking your bribes, which you're no doubt about to try on me. Well let me tell you pal," you point at him, "nothing you say here and now will keep me from locking your ass up."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He acts like he's pondering, "I have thought about what I could do to make you give up. Maybe threaten your clinic with bombs, or every shelter in California. Too much work, however."

"Joy for me."

"Rightly, so. Ah, but then the perfect thing just came to me. Literally." His smile is all teeth. "I know what, or rather who, you fear most in this world Whisperer."

"I fear no one." You lie, and the bastard knows it. You fold your arms to hide the shiver.

"Tsk tsk. You know it's sinful to lie. Nevertheless, what I'm offering you is protection."

"What the hell makes you think I want or need your protection?" You snap.

He laughs, "Because I know what's about to happen, Whisper, and I am the only one who can prevent it."

"You adding fortune teller to your resume now?"

His smirk is evil, "What's your answer, Whisperer?"

Now you fake ponder, "You know what?" You pull out your pistol and aim it at his head, "I'd rather you shoot me or stab me."

"Wrong answer. Men!" 

You take satisfaction in seeing the bastard's smug smile turn to a frown when, instead of his men coming out, your party shows themselves. The two of you are surrounded by Monroe's men, as well as Chloe, Dan, and-

Where's Lucifer?

"Right here, darling." As if he read your mind, the man missing was standing right behind you. He smiles, "You're cute when you jump."

"Do you want to get punched in the gut again?" You holster your gun and face him. Behind you Monroe arrests Roberto while Chloe, Dan, and the others round up his men.

Lucifer makes a pained face, "Definitely not." You laugh and that makes him smile, "So, dog boy is finally caught. Care to celebrate over at LUX? I can have Maxwell make you a wonderful fruit smoothie."

"Thanks for the offer, but I just want to relax at home right now. Tomorrow night?" You smile at him and touch his arm.

"Of course, darling." Lucifer walks you to your car and watches you until you're out of sight. He turns around and sees Monroe putting Roberto in the backseat of his car.

Lucifer smiles wickedly and his eyes flash red, "Show time."

---------------------------------------------------------

Monroe had the LAPD put Roberto Alejandro in a holding cell while the paperwork was done. Roberto sat in the smallest cell and furthest cell the LAPD has.

Perfect.

"It does amaze me how I've come to love scum like you loose their freedom, when I'm usually all about freedom." Lucifer Morningstar appears before Roberto's cell door. Hands in pockets and a teeth baring grin, "Then again, this place does remind me of Home."

"What the hell do you want pin-up?" Roberto asks as Lucifer looks around the space. 

Lucifer's eyes focus back on the criminal. He removes his hands from his pockets and grips the bar door, "Lucifer Morningstar, and before you roll your head like every other human, let me show you proof." Lucifer leans close to the door, "K9 is in no way sinful. However-"

Roberto screams. The Devil is out.

"I am."

Lucifer pulls open the locked iron bar door and steps inside. Roberto cowers in a corner, unable to see the wide open door of freedom due to the Devil before him.

"Please…." Roberto shakes violently. Sweat immediately pours from him, "Please don't hurt me…."

"Well, you see, I usually do, but I promised my Demon that she'd get to do the torture on you." Lucifer steps to the side and gestures to Mazikeen of the Lilum. Her grotesque half face smiles at the human as she twirls her daggers.

"But before I allow her to destroy your body, I have a question for you dog boy." Lucifer predatory walks to the human and kneels down before him.

"Who is after Earth, or who you stupidly call the 'Animal Whisperer'?"

"The...the Kidnapper."

"The who?"

"I…I don't know him personally. He, she, hell could be multiple people. It's just a name. Notorious at making people disappear." 

"What does this 'Kidnapper' want with Earth?"

"N-nothing personally." Roberto shakes his head, "The Kidnapper takes jobs. People pay 'im to take people and keep the cops away. After the cops give up he takes them to the client."

"When is this stain coming for her?"

Roberto Alejandro, the first human Lucifer watches become smug in the face of the Devil.

"She's already gone."

---------------------------------------------------------

"I know I said I was ready to face him, but...this is just too soon." You pace back and forth in your living room. Alice stands there watching you move, "I mean, it hasn't even been a year yet!"

"Maybe he was just messing with you, Earth." Alice tries to reassure you.

"No. No no no, Alice. He absolutely knew." Your pacing increases and now your hands were in your hair. "How could someone like him find out?! The only people who know the truth are you and Damien, and I sure as shit know neither one of you said anything."

"Earth, please calm down." Alice grabs you to stop yourself, "This isn't helping you."

"Yeah...yeah you're right." You sigh, "Ok...ok let's fortify this place."

You walk up the step to your bedroom as Alice goes to the closet next to the kitchen. Just as you're about to open your bedroom closet something catches your eye in its mirror doors.

Your plants on the balcony were all broken.

You hear Alice scream and something break. You spin around and that's when your closet doors open and arms come around you. You get the person off with the ball buster move, then spin and punch him in the face followed by a kick to the stomach. You run from the room and catch a glimpse of Alice fighting another person as two more men come from your balcony. One of the men throw a punch to your already sore head and you see stars, but manage to still take them both down. Obviously these intruders don't know about your strength.

Alice screams in pain and you look to see her fall down hard. You run to help her-

"Idiots. The boss gave us this for a reason."

An arm wraps around your head and a needle enters your neck. An all too familiar drug starts to enter your bloodstream.

"NO!" You kick and punch, but by now your body is locked by other arms surrounding you. You free your head long enough to see Alice motionless on the floor as three other men surround you.

"You're freedom is over." The voice that holds you from behind says.

The drugs take you into that pit of darkness.

---------------------------------------------------------

"She still hasn't picked up?" Lucifer questions Maze as he speeds down the roads.

"For the last time no. I've been trying since we got in the car!"

"What about Alice? They live in the same complex!"

Maze becomes quiet, "Tried her too. She's not picking up either."

Lucifer yells and slams the gas pedal down.

---------------------------------------------------------

The Devil and his Demon arrive at your apartment complex. Lucifer doesn't even park. Just stops the car abruptly. Him and Maze run inside and up three flights of stairs.

"K9!!!" Lucifer yells banging on your door.

No response.

Maze kicks in the door and the two enter into a wrecked apartment. Vases of plants and picture frames lay broken on the floor. Lucifer walks further in to look inside your bedroom. One closest door lay broken on the floor. Your easel next to the balcony door was on the floor, and the painting you were working on was ripped to shreds. Looking outside he sees all your plant pots shattered, and the plants themselves stepped on in a hurry entrance/escape.

"LUCIFER!" Maze yells from the living room and he rushes over. 

Alice is laying on the floor, unmoving. Maze quickly kneels and presses two fingers to Alice's throat.

Maze lets out a breath she's been holding, "She's alive."

Lucifer releases air from his nostrils. He leaves her to stand on your balcony. He looks up to the night sky. He grips the handrails and tries to calm the Devil in him.

He calls Chloe.

[titsthedamnseason]

in the dead of night: chapter two

chapter 1 | once again: the most special of thanks to @tyblackthorn and @mostawesomepineapple for their guidance, they are both very lovely and i highly recommend you follow them if you arent already <3. also, i will be posting this to ao3 soon so keep an eye out for that but otherwise - enjoy losers!!

Julian was just finishing placing the last dirty breakfast dish in the sink when he heard Cameron come into the kitchen. The room was now empty, save the two of them, all the kids having gone off to be on their own, and Diana having not arrived yet. 

It was clear that Cameron had come to check on Julian, and find out what had occurred with the institute head the previous night. The last he’d known, Arthur had been in a maddened state worse than usual, but Julian had told him to go to bed and that it was under control, which had, of course, proved to be true. Normally, Cameron would have wanted to stay up and help to ensure these results, but he’d had a particularly nasty fight with an Eidolon demon earlier in the day, and had been exhausted, something he’d felt guilty about the entire morning.

“What happened last night? You look exhausted. I think even Dru was a little intimidated by the bags under your eyes.” Cameron had come around the table, and was now settled into a chair that he was sitting backwards on, his arms draped over the back, facing Julian, who was leaning back against the kitchen counter and wiping his hands on a floral towel.

“Gee thanks,” Julian responded, giving his parabatai a dry look. As he set the towel back on the counter, he squinted at the blaring sun coming in through the window, and figured today would be a good beach day. The whole family hadn’t had one in a while. The only problem would be convincing Diana to cancel training for the day, though she might go for it if they invited her to the beach . . .

“Hello? Earth to Jules.” Julian shook his head to clear it, and focused back on a worried Cameron. “Did everything go okay last night? You seem distracted. You would have woken me if anything had gone wrong, right?” The guilt was clearly displayed on his face, even though Julian had been the one to tell him to get rest. Julian quickly worked to reassure the other boy that it was alright.

“Yeah, sorry, no worries.” Julian gave a small smile, but it was quickly replaced with a more serious look as he sighed. “After you went to bed last night I tried getting in contact with Malcolm for at least a half hour before deciding it was no use. I would have tried for longer, but there was no time. Arthur was only getting worse.” Julian seemed sickened by the memory, and Cameron looked only slightly better. “I was running out of options, had nearly given up entirely, resigning myself to a night of a deranged Arthur, hoping Malcolm would come in time to fix it, or that he would wear himself out, that we wouldn’t need to involve the Silent Brothers or the Clave or anything, you know?” 

Cameron nodded his head in acknowledgement at the predicament that he’d heard and experienced himself a thousand times over. He wondered how his parabatai had gotten around it this time. With some brilliant plan, most likely.

Julian continued on, prompted by Cameron’s response. “Well, anyway, lucky for me, I just barely remembered the advice Malcolm had given us that I had nearly cast from my mind entirely, disregarding it as irrelevant but––”

“You called Emma Carstairs?!” Cameron clearly recalled the time that Malcolm had recommended the foreboding warlock to them, and how ridiculous the idea had seemed then. They hadn’t told Malcolm how absurd his proposition had come across as, but they had poked fun at it on their way back home from his house and well after. Emma was notorious for hating Shadowhunters, and was very private. Very few knew what she looked like, or where she resided for most of her days, but supposedly she received a lot of requests via fire-message from individuals hoping to gain her help, hearing of her powers, and optimistic to become one of the few who could say they knew her.

“Well, I actually fire-messaged her, but yes. She showed up almost right away. I’m not sure how the night would have gone without her, but I imagine quite poorly.” He then recounted the rest of the tale from the night before, how Emma had calmed down Arthur, what she looked like, their conversation after. The only part he left out were her qualms about being wary of Malcolm. Julian wasn’t sure if he trusted those yet, and there was no need to worry Cameron over nothing. “Just don’t mention this to Malcolm, please. He hasn’t even gotten back to me from last night yet, but I don’t want him to think we don’t need or appreciate his help. You know how flaky his feelings are, and I’m not sure how willing Emma would be to help us again if Malcolm thought we didn’t need his help and started refusing to give it.”

It wasn’t the best excuse, and Julian didn’t like having to keep things from his parabatai, but Cameron accepted it without question. “So she doesn’t hide her identity because she’s actually hideous? Livvy will be so disappointed.” It had been a long running joke in the Blackthorn family that for Emma Carstairs to be so secretive, her appearance must be atrocious. Livvy had been the one to start the conspiracy, and she was highly dedicated to her cause. Julian smiled at the thought.

“I’m glad that’s what you took away from the story, Cam,” Julian sighed. Finished with recounting the story, he went back to work wiping down the counter, turning his back on Cameron. He might joke, but Julian knew Cameron was only trying to lighten the serious tone and not make light of the situation itself, knowing how delicate the balance was.

The other boy didn’t look deterred by this response and merely shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for, dissecting the important parts of the stories that you overlook while you’re too busy overanalyzing everything else. Without me you’d be hopelessly lost, I’m sure.”

They shared a smile, and then set to clearing out the rest of the kitchen. They threw around meaningless conversation as they did, crafting a plan to get out of the day’s training and joking around. The matter from the night before was temporarily forgotten, and life continued on like normal for the LA Institute.

Julian knew that after the kitchen was clear, he would go off to the office to respond to the letters the institute had recently received while Cameron watched the kids for him. He knew that Diana wouldn’t give them a beach day, and they’d still have to train. He knew he was of age but still couldn’t do anything to save his family, not really, and he knew that his business with Emma Carstairs was not done, and wouldn’t be, not until he found out what was fueling her suspicions of Malcolm, and was sure he’d avoided any and all threats to his family.

---------

Julian could not stop thinking about Emma Carstairs, or rather, he could not stop thinking about what Emma Carstairs had told him.

As it turned out, the family had been able to squeeze in a beach day, so he’d spent the day at the beach with his family, minus Diana, who had been unable to make it to the institute at all that day due to other arrangements. Malcolm had finally gotten back to Julian around noon, texting to see if everything was alright, and Julian had easily responded that Arthur had eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion and had not awoken since, but that they needed more medicine. Malcolm had promised to bring it over before the next day’s end.

This was nothing out of the ordinary, Malcolm being flighty with his responses, but helping them out in the end. What made it different now was that another well known warlock, one that Malcolm had recommended himself, had warned Julian against trusting Malcolm. It wasn’t as if he even knew Emma Carstairs, or had any reason to trust her, even if she had helped him greatly and without charge the night previous, but he couldn’t help but consider that maybe she had good reasons. If that was the case, Julian wanted to know what those reasons were, and what her intentions were, because he couldn’t risk endangering his family, whether through Malcolm or through Emma.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Tavvy called out to him. He and Ty had just finished building a sandcastle, and they wanted him to come see it. As he made his way across the sand to them and saw Cameron splashing around with Livvy and Dru in the ocean behind, he vowed to get to the bottom of this Emma Carstairs business one way or another. He would do whatever it took to keep his family safe.

---------

Julian didn’t know if this plan would work and he didn’t like the feeling. The thing about Julian’s plans was that they were always foolproof, always well thought-out, and always reviewed by Cameron to pick out any possible flaws. The problem with this particular plan, was that it qualified as none of those things.

Julian knew that it was a bad idea, trying to contact Emma Carstairs again, and to do it by lying to her. Warlocks were usually pretty grumpy to begin with, and he doubted she would appreciate the false summons on top of that. He didn’t even know if she would respond at all. These were only two of the very many things that could go wrong with this plan. As Julian sat at the desk in his room, sighing as he watched the clock strike past midnight once again, he began writing his letter to Emma.

When he finished, he set down the pen and picked up his stele, quickly scrawling the fire-message rune onto the back of the sealed and folded letter. After sending it, he got up to go to the institute’s entryway, to hopefully intercept Emma when she arrived, and finally taking notice of the mess in his room, duly noting that he needed to clean it.

He wasn’t entirely positive that he wasn’t hallucinating from sleep deprivation when Emma Carstairs suddenly appeared in front of him. He rubbed at his eyes just to be sure.

“Julian, I’m so sorry! I feel awful about Arthur, I really thought the spell would hold! Take me to him now, I’ll fix it for you, and I’ll be sure it holds this time. No charge again, of course.” The guilt was all over her face, something Julian had not accounted for. It was clear that she’d been about to go to bed, if she hadn’t already been sleeping. She was dressed in cotton shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, paired with fuzzy socks and Ugg slippers. Her hair was down and draped across her shoulders, unlike the night previous when it had been held back in a braid.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I lied to you so you would come, Arthur’s fine.” Julian scratched the back of his neck, hoping to pull off an innocent look. Judging by her face, the warlock was not impressed. He began thinking that perhaps the brutal honestly had not been the way to proceed with this plan, but he hadn’t had much time to think about it.

“What do you mean he’s fine?” Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was staring him down. Julian silently hoped she wouldn’t turn him into a frog, and hoped if she did Cameron would take the risk and kiss him to see if he turned back. The kids wouldn’t survive with Cameron left as their only guardian. Julian needed to fix this quick.

“Look, I know this job has probably been––unusual, to say the least.” Emma raised her eyebrows at that, but Julian continued on, unmoved by her reaction. “I really am sorry that I had to call you back, and that I lied to you in the process. The truth is, I needed to see you to ask about Malcolm. Trusting him is no small matter for me and I couldn’t live knowing that I might be putting my little siblings in danger by keeping him close to us. I need to know what you know about him and how you know it.” Julian knew he’d been successful in getting to her when her glare gave way to a weary look and she began rubbing her eyes.

“Look, I’m not about to start telling you my entire history. I understand why you had to lie to me, but why should I tell you anything? Not to mention, it’s the middle of the night, and I rushed here for no reason. Is this how you conduct all your important business meetings?”

“I know you have no reason to tell me anything, but please, I’m begging you on behalf of my family, my siblings who have done nothing to deserve the shit hand they’ve been dealt in life. If you tell me this, and help me protect them, I swear I’ll never try to contact you again and I’ll pay you double whatever you’d be asking for this information.”

“Zero doubled is still just zero. Plus, making such promises is ridiculous. I will tell you what I can now, Julian, and if you desperately need me again I’ll come, but please don’t make light on that offer. It is to be used only in the most dire of instances, and only applies if you cease from lying to me again. Especially when it’s at the expense of my emotions, and my pizza, which has definitely burned by now.” She looked put out as she said this, though over his lie, her guilt, or her charred pizza, Julian couldn’t say.

“There isn’t much I can tell you about Malcolm, though it isn’t due to my withholding of information. In truth, I can’t even be absolutely sure he has ill intentions. What I am sure of is the bitterness that has always resided within him, and the horrific history he has with Blackthorns. It is entirely possible that he has seen sense and long forgotten the matter, though as someone in your situation, I wouldn’t count on it.” She let out a sigh and made her way to Julian’s desk to lean on as she told the story.

“You see, long ago, Malcolm had fallen in love with a Shadowhunter girl, a Blackthorn girl, who had loved him back just as greatly. Of course, at the time, it was seen as entirely revolting. I won’t go into the gruesome events that followed after they were discovered, and doing research on it would be essentially hopeless seeing as nearly all record of the event has been erased, but take my word for it that they were horrible. The girl was killed. Malcolm blamed the Blackthorns, among others. Maybe his connections to you and your family are of pure intent, but all I’m saying is that it seems awfully convenient that of all Shadowhunter families, he’s taken a liking to yours. He hasn’t wronged you yet, seemingly, but it doesn’t mean he won’t.”

Julian looked exhausted, and his eyes were filled with helplessness at Emma’s words. “I can’t go to Malcolm about this. If I imply to him that I’m suspicious and he has only pure intentions, he’ll get offended. If I tell him and he is working against us, he’ll only speed up his plans. Should I stop asking him for favors, just to be safe?” Julian knew that he couldn’t entirely trust what she was saying, and wouldn’t consider it fact, but he suspected there was at least some truth behind it, and plus, getting her advice on this might prove helpful. Something she said might give him a little more insight on how to proceed, even if  he didn’t take her advice fully.

“Absolutely not. If you ever encounter an issue that you don’t feel you can trust Malcolm with or suspect he may be misdirecting you, contact me and I’ll help. Otherwise, Malcolm should be fine. He hasn’t steered you wrong yet, and never asking him for things would just seem suspicious.” She seemed like she meant it, and so far she’d done nothing but benefit him. He would certainly keep her offer in mind.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again that I tricked you into coming here, but I was desperate. Just like last night, I guess. God, I wish I would stop finding myself in this position.” He was looking at her through hooded eyes, his head hanging with defeat and fatigue.

“You’re welcome, and stop reminding me of your misdeeds, Julian Blackthorn. At this rate I shall never forgive you.” She flashed him the smile that rarely seemed to leave her face. “I’m glad I was able to help, even if it was only slightly.”

“Yeah, a little more information might have been nice, but I understand. It’s good that I know even this much, or else I might have gone on blindly trusting Malcolm for the rest of my life without it. Without you. So, thank you for sharing, and for helping, and for continuously showing up at my house in the middle of the night. Also, for risking your pizza, that one is important.”

“You said thank you already, but you’re right, the pizza was a tremendous sacrifice.” As she approached him this time, she reached out for his hand and shook it, still smiling all the while. “I’m not sure you need reminding, but just in case you’ve forgotten, don’t tell anyone I was here, and especially don’t tell Malcolm I was here. He doesn’t like me already, and I can’t imagine he would be pleased with me stealing his customers.” She ended her statement with a wink, and was yet again gone before Julian could respond. He guessed she must not like goodbyes very much, if she was always disappearing before they could properly happen.

As Julian made his way to his bed, ready to finally sleep, he couldn’t help but compare this night to the one previous. Emma was once again so different than he’d expected, even if he had met her the night before. She was also very gracious, contrary to her reputation, what with helping him again, and doing it free of charge both nights. He supposed he should be more suspicious than he was, but nothing that she’d done had seemed disingenuous, and she’d only helped him so far. You could say the same about Malcolm, his brain reminded him. He couldn’t help but acknowledge that his brain made a fair point, and yet still, he felt as though he could trust Emma, even if he had to tread carefully if he was going to do so.

She had once again left behind the smell of roses, and as he drifted off to sleep he couldn’t help but note one thing that was different about tonight. He was sure he wasn’t going to tell Cameron about this in the morning.

[shiguresxhma]

🐶 ✏️🍂 HEADCANON. 🐶 ✏️🍂

So as far as Shigure and his writing career goes, it really burned me up inside that he quit. I begrudgingly admit that it does make a fair share of sense --- he quit once he moved back to the main estate to be with Akito and take up responsibilities as co-head. So, at that point not only would he not have much time to keep up his writing career, but financially he literally wouldn’t need to as there would be no need for a second income with Akito’s Sohma money. Yeah, make all the ‘living off of his wife’s money’ jokes you want. 

But, that being said, I really hoped deep in my heart that he did pick his writing career back up in some way, shape, or form. Even if it was just writing less material to keep a pen name out there or something. Because I really do think that he enjoyed it, and more importantly, was good at it. I’ve battled with that concept in my head for years --- whether or not he’s an extremely talented writer, or is just comfortably putting work out there, or if he ever struggled to get anything published. Shigure’s smart, and has multiple published works under multiple different pen names. We only know of two in canon, but with the boys’ comment of something along the lines of ‘how many pen names does he have?’ I don’t think it stops at just two (though I don’t think it is some crazy amount, either. Maybe just one or two more.) He’s clearly a successfully published author with a versatile ability to write in several different genres and I think that is really commendable and a neat little detail to his character! Because he never plays it off like he’s some big name accomplished author who flaunts his success. We know this from canon with the way Tohru finds out about his profession and is shocked at the discovery. Yeah, she never thought to ask but clearly he never advertised it, either. So he’s surprisingly modest about his success in his own little Shigure way. But I’m sure he, Hatori, and Ayame shared some celebration over his first published works. 

Above all else, what really inspired me to add some cents to Shigure’s writing career and his knack for the trade was a bit from my friend’s fic, The Pursuit of Repeating History. I adored her particular thoughts on Shigure’s success as a writer and Mitchan’s woes as his editor so much that I saved the excerpt for exactly this kind of post. 

“Do you know how highly regarded Shigure’s work is?”

Tohru shook her head.

“He’s the top catch in our publishing firm. His last book won a national award. He’s a literary genius.”

“Wow, that must be—”

“And he knows it,” Mitsuru gave Tohru a sharp look. Already, the younger girl was starting to regret asking the question at all. “He burned through countless editors before he got me. So many of them wouldn’t even bother trying to handle him. Then, they give him to me. A fresh-faced, freshly hired temp.” She let out a sardonic laugh.

“You give me too much credit, Mii,” he announced with a smile.

“I didn’t say anything untrue and you know it,” Mitsuru pouted, clutching the manuscript tightly. “Is this all of it?”

“Who knows? You’ll just have to go home and see,” Shigure countered, still using that falsely cheerful tone. “Tohru, this woman failed to mention how atrocious of an editor she is and how lucky it is for her to be assigned to someone who needs so little editing done in the first place.”

So in conclusion, I’m kind of obsessed with the idea that he’s so accomplished, revered in the publishing industry, and his work is almost pristine by the time it reaches Mitchan anyway. No wonder he wastes so much time dicking around with her. 

[cherryyharryy]

Chapter 2: Manubruim  

 'Lover's Spit' left on repeat

Part One

“What did dad get you for Valentine’s Day? Your first Valentine’s Day together?”

Adeline’s mom looked up from her computer. Her eyes slowly rose as her face twisted in concentration, willing the memory to appear before her. “Um...oh that’s right! He got me a teddy bear!”

“Well what about him? What’d you get him?”

“Oh I didn’t get him anything, dear.” With a wave of her hand her focus was back on the screen.

“What? Why not?” Adeline slumped down in the armchair in the corner of her mom’s office. “That seems a little rude.”

“Well we’d had a fight. And I was still mad. There was no way I was going to buy him something after he’d pissed me off.”

Adeline chuckled through a breath. “Okay then. You’re no help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah, for Harry.”

Her mom hummed, drumming her nails along the edge of her desk. “Candy?”

“Candy? As a gift?”

“Well yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

Adeline rolled her eyes, slinging her legs over the arm of the chair and huffing out a response. “No candy.”

“Wait…” Her mom pushed back against her desk and wheeled her chair towards the bookcase behind her. She scanned over a shelf before sliding out a large decorative book.

Dust flew out in a small cloud when it was dropped on the desk. It was a mix of dark grays and browns, a metallic finish coating the intricate swirls. Adeline scrambled up from the chair with a grimace on her face, curling her lip at the old book.

“A gross book?”

“No, not exactly.” Her mom opened the cover and tipped the book over, a mess of random items spilling out leaving the hollowed-out center bare.

“What’s all this?”

“Things your dad gave me over the years. Some were for holidays and birthdays. Others were just little gifts for fun. And then I saved little things, like mementos I guess.”

Adeline sifted through what she could only call junk. Wine corks and a single playing card, a Panama City key chain and little elephant figurine. There was the typical, some pressed flowers and handwritten notes, an aged birthday card and a plethora of fortune cookie papers.

“What’s in that envelope?”

“Oh that’s the letter your father wrote me after our first fight.”

“The Valentine’s Day fight?”

“No, no, this was much later. A real fight.” Her mom slipped a folded paper from the envelope, a smile working its way onto her face as she read over it. “I was really scared. I knew I loved him, then we had this big blow up about college. I got a great scholarship but it was out of state. We’d never see each other if I went.”

“But you went to school here.” Adeline nodded to the diploma on the wall.

“Mhm I did. I regret it, but I did.”

“Wait, regret it? But you guys ended up together.”

Her mom shrugged her shoulders, folding the letter back up and tucking it back into the envelope. “It was still a great opportunity I gave up. For a boy.”

“But you loved him. Isn’t love like, the ultimate goal in life?”

“Happiness is, dear.”

“So, you’re not happy?”

“Oh no! I’m extremely happy. I’m in love with my life and my husband.” Her hand gently lifted her daughter’s chin up. “And my daughters.”

“Well then how can you have regrets?”

“Life’s complicated. You’ll understand more when your older.”

They continued picking through the pile of sentiments, Adeline asking for the stories behind a few.  

“A necklace, this is...hideous, mom.”

Her mother laughed and took the beaded necklace from Adeline’s hand. “We went to an arcade, and bless his heart did he try to win me something. He ran out of money, and spent his last quarter on one of those gumball machines that has little toys inside.”

“Oh. Well I guess it’s sweet then. Not ugly.”

“No, not ugly,” her mom sighed, eyeing the cheap jewelry like it was made of gold and diamonds.

“Well I need some ideas.” Adeline curled back up into the cushioned chair, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her head atop. “We’ve been together just a little over a month. And I know he’s getting me something because his friend Logan said he was.”

“You could make him something?”

“Like what?”

“Write him something!” her mother gushed. “You do so well for the school newspaper. And that poem you wrote for me last year was amazing, I’m sure he’d love something like that.”

Adeline scrunched her face up, rocking her head back and forth in thought. “I think I’ll hold off on that. I’ve never written for a boy before anyway.”

“Okay, well you can make him a sweater. I can show you how—”

“No.”

“Buy him a sweater?”

“No. He has a hundred sweaters. I don’t wanna get him clothes anyway.”

Her mom hummed as she filled the box back up and slipped it back onto the shelf. “What about...take him out to dinner?”

“Too formal.”

“Lunch?”

“We go out for lunch all the time.”

“You’re hard to please, sunshine.”

Adeline groaned and dragged herself up from the chair. “M’just gonna go ask dad.”

***

Flowers. Harry loved flowers. He’d spent plenty of time since they’ve met complaining about the weather, about how dead everything looked and how there was no color outside. He made promises of showing Adeline the beautiful garden his mom planted each year, full of daisies and tulips, and his favorite—sunflowers.

His head nearly popped off when he found the sundress tucked into her closet one day, a pastel blue with tiny sunflowers decorating the fabric.

And then there was their first kiss, where he’d tucked her hair behind her ear and after a while gained the courage to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, including the promise to take her to a field out in the country where he’d make her a crown of the bright yellow flower.

And so she really can’t show up to their date without flowers.

“Would you like to write a note? Or we can have it printed for you?”

“Yes that’d be great, my handwriting is atrocious.”

The man behind the counter finished wrapping up her bouquet, complete with a silky black ribbon to hold the stems together and glittery paper that looked like the night sky. “Okay, let me go get a pad an pen and we can work on your message.”

The bell of the door chimed a moment later, a young girl came bouncing in with her mother close behind. They went straight for the roses, the girl’s small hands yanking out the brightest reds and shoving them up towards her mother.

“Okay, miss—oh! Mrs. Porter! Nice to see you and Shelby again, always a pleasure!”

The little girl—Shelby—hopped up to the counter with a big smile on her face, front tooth missing as she squealed in excitement. “I’m getting flowers for daddy!”

“You are?” The florist exclaimed. “That’s very sweet of you!” He pulled a page over on his notepad and nodded to Adeline. “Let me get this young lady’s order taken care of and I’ll be right with you, Shelby.”

***

“I must say, wasn’t expecting this. You’re quite the romantic, Addy.”

She certainly didn’t feel like a romantic, and standing in the middle of a room with flashing lights and buzzing sounds, beeps and rings, and the occasional heavy roll of a skeeball followed by a procession of high-pitched nasally chimes didn’t exactly scream romance.

“We can leave,” she pleaded, swallowing down the lump in her throat, already tugging on his sweater to retreat back out the door. “I—I’m sorry. This was stupid, I’m not good at this—”

“Hey, who said anything about this being stupid? I love this, darling. Really, haven’t been to an arcade since I was a kid.”

She nodded, holding back the smile that was sparked at the pet name. He’d been using them more freely and each time her stomach flipped and her brain fogged over. “Okay.”

They tried their hand at every game in the arcade, both of them shaking off the nervous jitters and letting their shyness slip away. They’d managed to accumulate enough tickets for a small stuffed bear which was awarded to Adeline in a most Harry fashion—he made her damn near beg.

Their faces were stuffed with hotdogs and candy, and one too many smoothies plus the giant pretzel they had shared. And despite all the sugar and salt weighing them down, Harry’s dancing wasn’t affected; bopping along to every song that hung in the air above them.

“Damn.” Harry popped two more quarters into the machine and swiped his hair off his forehead.

“Try for that turtle.”

“I want the bear.”

“We already have a bear.” Adeline’s face was pressed against the glass, eyeing the metal claw as Harry maneuvered it over the pile of stuffed animals.

“Exactly. He needs a friend.”

“But look at the turtle’s head! You can get a good grip on that!”

“No! I can get the bear’s arm!”

“Harry!”

Both of them were jumping and Adeline was banging on the plexiglass as the claw descended into the mix of toys, shouting a bit too enthusiastically for two people in public.

“Come on you stupid bear!” Harry’s hands were tugging on either side of his head, eyes blown out with the worried look of a stressed out dad meeting Adeline’s through the glass.

“Nooo!” They groaned in unison, watching as the claw rose back to the top without a prize in its grasp.

Harry slapped the buttons and pulled his wallet out, grumbling about being taken advantage of.

“Oh no, you’ve spent eight dollars on this.” Adeline grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the game and towards the door.

“I wanted a bear,” he pouted.

She sighed, rolling her eyes at the man before her who’s bottom lip was jutted out and arms were lazily crossed over his chest, in a proper disgruntled pout over a stuffed animal.

“Come on, think I may have something that’ll smooth out these lines.” She reached up and ran her thumb between his brows. “Let’s get outta here.”

***

“Addy…” Harry looked up from the box in his lap, mouth wavering around silent words.

A soft snow was drifting outside her car. The heater was on high and the radio was softly playing as they sat facing each other in his driveway. Her hands trembled when she’d pulled the gift from the glove box, avoiding his eyes when he toyed with the gold ribbon.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” He spoke through a smile, holding up the black stuffed bear.

“Your mom said your dog destroyed the one from when you were a kid.”

“I love it, petal. S’a perfect Valentine’s Day.” He leaned over the console and pecked her nose, humming, and going back in for a full kiss on her mouth.

“Wait,” she spoke softly into his mouth, knocking their teeth together when they parted.

Adeline leaned towards the back seat and pulled the bouquet of bright flowers from the floor. Harry chucked, his face a bright red when she placed them in his arms.

“Addy it’s too much,” he giggled. “How’d you know these are m’favorite?”

“What d’you mean how’d I know? You only bring them up in every conversation!”

“Do not!” He grumbled.

“Whatever. Do you like them?”

“I love them.” He stuck his nose against one and sniffed dramatically, sighing with a dopey smile on his face. “Oh, and a little card.”

Adeline’s heart twisted and sunk to hide behind her stomach. Regret of the intimate words she’d bashfully relayed to the florist earlier that day mocked her frenzied mind.

Her hand anxiously ran over the back of her neck. “It’s just, I mean...just words, y’know?” She stumbled.

“I’ll say.”

The smirk carved onto his face and the gleam in his eye only sped up the nervous tyrant going on inside her.

“You tryin’ to tell me something, love? Not as innocent as I thought,”  he teased.

“What?”

He cleared his throat and brought the small card up to read. “For my favorite daddy, happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh my God! No! That’s not—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa now, s’alright, sweetheart. We’ve all got our thing.” His smile was as wide as it could possibly be. “Just didn’t expect to be findin’ out so soon.”

“No! Harry!” She couldn’t get the words out quick enough, no longer able to sit still as her whole body fidgeted in her seat, her hands darting back and forth between the card and her own face. “That’s not mine! There must’ve been a mix up!”

“Now Addy, d’really think I’d judge you? No need to lie, darling.”

“No! I mean it! I—I had this sweet little message and then Shelby came in! And—and—well it’s the florist's fault! I’m complaining first thing tomorrow!”

Harry was beside himself, a laughing fit stifling the words he tried to get out.

“Addy, baby—no darling don’t cry,” he cooed, setting the flowers on the dash and inching closer to her, holding her face in his hands as his thumbs went to work swiping the tears off her cheeks. “I believe you.”

“That’s just—it’s not what I wrote.”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “Was just messin’ with yeh. Why don’t you tell me what you wrote?”

She sniffled, nodding in his grasp. She ran her tongue over her lips before flickering her gaze up to his.

“I don’t remember exactly, it was just something about how happy I am with you,” she whispered, voice barely louder than the song filtering through the car, “and how even though we haven’t been together for very long, everything just feels right with you. Like, better than anyone else I’ve been with.”

A new, softer smile tugged at his lips, her face soon mirroring his once he spilled kisses all over her face.

“Harry!” She giggled.

“I’m so happy with you too.”

The snow picked up as they continued to shower each other with soft caresses, gentle humming from both of them when they finally pulled apart.

“I’ve gotta go before my mom comes out here,” Harry sighed.

“Yeah, m’sure my parents are watching the clock right now.”

“I’ll see yeh tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded, pecking his lips once more before he shuffled out of her car with his gifts in tow. Before he shut the door he leaned down to face her, releasing his lip from his teeth.

“I didn’t forget you, may have spoken to your mom too.”

With a wink from his gleaming eye he was shutting the door and shuffling through the few inches of snow towards his house.

Adeline’s heart was back to top speed as she drove back home, his words bouncing around her mind as her heart filled up with a childlike giddiness. She sung along with the radio, a smile on her face once she pulled into her neighborhood.

“All these people drinking lover's spit They sit around and clean their face with it.”

Her coat was shrugged off as soon as she stepped through her front door. All the lights were off, and her parents were surprisingly in bed already. She flew up the stairs to her room, debating on waking her mom up to find out what Harry’s promise had meant, but once she flicked her bedroom light on the questions fizzled from her mind.

Sat on her bed was a bright pink teddy bear, it’s paws holding a little red heart. She picked it up, and with no shame, cuddled the soft animal against her chest. When her eyes opened they landed on the folded paper that was hidden under the bear.

Adeline,

I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Just thinking about you brings a smile to my face and I couldn’t be more thrilled to call you my girlfriend. You’re just the sweetest, cutest thing, and I want you to know how much I care for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.

XOXO Harry

[ellanainthetardis]

It’s time for a second chapter! I hope you enjoy it as much as you did the first one! Thank you for your support!

{ff] or [ao3]

2.

If it was a prank, it wasn’t one that had been made public yet.

Katniss had been waiting for the laughter and the mocking comments ever since she had put a foot at the school that morning but so far, nobody had said anything. First period had been boring like Math always was and she felt like she was suffocating. Her whole body felt too tight for her, coiled. Her skin was tingling with an odd sixth sense that told her doom was impending.

“Hey.”

She almost jumped out of her skin and slammed the boy who had startled her right against the row of lockers.

Gale stared at her with wide eyes. Either at the unexpected violence or because she had lifted him up a few inches in the air without breaking a sweat.

She dropped him and stepped back with wide eyes of her own.

“Okay…” her best friend said slowly. “Wanna explain?”

She licked her lips and averted her eyes, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. She usually tied it up in an utilitarian braid but, that day, she had felt the need for some additional cover. “Sorry. I’m jumpy today.”

“Right.” Gale frowned. “So… Your sister texted my brother and Rory texted me. The word on the street is that you are being weird since last night…”

“Prim should mind her business.” Katniss grumbled. “I’m fine.”

She headed down the corridor toward her next class, not entirely surprised when Gale followed her.

“She’s just worried about you.” he pointed out. “And it’s not like you to be so jumpy you pin me to a locker, Catnip. Did something happen?”

She hesitated. She told Gale everything. Or almost everything, at least. Gale understood her like nobody else ever would. His father was dead too and he, too, was struggling to help his mother raise his two brothers and his baby sister. Like her, he hadn’t always been on the good side of the law and he was the one who had actually taught her how to poach in the woods. And, to top it off, he was also on the archery team. Gale Hawthorne was her best friend and she was sure that if she told him about the weird night she had had, he would find an explanation that was a little more rational than vampires are a real thing.

Before she could say anymore, the bell rang and she made a face because she couldn’t afford to be late again. If she got kicked out of school, social services would poke their nose in her mother’s business again and Katniss had barely managed to convince them Aster was fit to take care of her and Prim last time.

“I’ll tell you later.” she promised.

“You better.” He smiled. “See you at practice.”

She rushed to the History classroom and almost flung herself at her usual seat but students were still chatting between themselves despite her late entrance. There were excited whispers around and she caught words like “retired” and “surprise” and “new teacher” floating around. She didn’t pay it any attention, she fished her old battered phone from her bag and groaned when she realized she had forgotten to charge it again.

It wasn’t a fancy model like all the smartphones all the wealthy kids had. It was a very basic model. All it could do was call and send text. It still had actual keys instead of a touch screen. It suited her needs just fine though. She only used it for emergencies. She had nobody to call and nobody to text beside Gale who she saw every day at school and who didn’t live that far away from her home that she couldn’t make the trip in ten minutes if she really needed something.

Because she was busy laboriously tapping a text to Prim asking her not to disclose her private business to any Hawthorne boy, she missed the new teacher’s arrival. She didn’t, however, miss the hush that fell on the classroom or the characteristic squeaky sound of the pen on the whiteboard.

The man’s back was to the room. He was wearing a blue suit as far as she could tell and his handwriting was atrocious.

She was too busy trying to decipher his name to look at him yet.

Haymitch Abernathy

The feeling of dread was back and, when she finally looked at the man, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find the stranger from the previous night smirking right at her.

“Let’s cut to the chase…” He was addressing the class but it felt as if he was talking to her specifically and she found herself scowling. She didn’t like getting played like this. “You don’t want to be here and I hate teaching so we’re in good company. Let’s try to make our time together bearable. You don’t bother me, I don’t bother you. Seems fair?”

It earned him a few laughs.

Katniss just glared.

For someone who claimed to hate teaching, he wasn’t a terrible teacher. He seemed to know his subject at least. That wasn’t always a given with teachers in a town as small and as poor as the Seam.

Still, she was the first one to rush out of the room when the bell rang.

The day dragged on. She was a little afraid Abernathy would try to corner her somewhere but, true to his statement, he didn’t seem willing to bother her. She supposed that meant she should go to him first. Fat chance of that.

She didn’t need his help because none of it was true.

When Gale asked her again at practice what had bothered her so much that morning, she told him it was nothing and, this time, she meant it. She went back to the woods with him after school and they managed to catch a few squirrels.

They didn’t meet any weird people.

Nothing odd happened.

She blamed hunger for the whole thing and vowed not to hunt on an empty stomach again.

She was almost happy when she went to school the next day – as happy as you could be when the fridge and the cupboards were empty and bills were piling on the wobbly table. She was relieved it had all been in her head, truth be told. It was the only reason she didn’t immediately scowl and turned Mellark away when he casually asked if she wanted what was left of his chocolate cake because he had packed too much.

It wasn’t the first time he had cornered her in the Biology classroom before the lesson started with offers of food. Prim loved chocolate cake and she was in a good mood so she thanked him and made sure it was carefully wrapped in the paper napkin before placing it in her bag. He looked surprised and a little hopeful and he must have taken that as a tacit permission to sit because next thing she knew, he was on the stool next to hers.

That was Madge’s seat and Katniss looked at the classroom’s door with panic, hoping the blond girl would hurry and show up. Madge wasn’t really a friend because they didn’t hang out outside of school but they had been Biology partners since forever and they had eaten lunch together a few times. Madge was alright. She knew how to deal with Madge.

She didn’t know how to deal with Peeta Mellark who was king of the jocks and captain of the wrestling team.

To be fair, Mellark had always been nice to her. They had been in the same class for as long as she could remember and he was a shy kid despite his popularity. She didn’t think he had a mean bone in his body. But he was rich and they didn’t belong in the same world and Katniss was naturally weary of anyone who didn’t have to sweat and bleed to get their next meal.

Today, he looked unusually gloomy.

And, now that she was paying attention, so did the rest of the popular clique. Was Glimmer crying?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, nodding at his friends who all looked a mix of worried and depressed. That was as unusual as it got. They were always happy, shallow and haughty.

“You didn’t hear?” he said, sounding sad too. “Cato and Clove disappeared.”

The name of the girl she had set on fire was like a stab in the chest. She had done her best to repress the whole thing, not to think about why Clove hadn’t been around since that night. Her absence didn’t fit with the rational explanations she had settled on.

“Three days ago.” he continued when she didn’t say anything. “The police think they ran away together but… It’s just not like them. And they didn’t take any clothes or anything… It’s so weird…”

“Right. Weird.” she repeated flatly.

He forced a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I just hope they’re alright…”

“Yeah.” she said and she wondered if she imagined how strangled it sounded.

“Your partner’s here… I’ll…” He pointed out to his usual seat, a little hesitant and she nodded, already catching Madge’s eyes who was doing her own brand of hesitation at finding her seat taken. “Katniss?” He placed her hand on her wrist and she automatically snatched it away. He looked hurt for a second but then it was gone and his face was entirely too serious. “I know you often go to the woods on your own… Be careful, alright? I heard weird things are happening over there.”

“Thanks for the cake.” she mumbled.

Well, she thought, ignoring Madge’s awkward questions about what Peeta Mellark wanted with her… Shit.

°O°O°O°O°

Haymitch wasn’t surprised to find the girl on his classroom’s threshold at the end of the day.

He considered her as she studied him, dislike written all over her face. She didn’t look like much, his new Slayer… She was underweight. Underfed, he corrected himself. Her features were striking and she could have been pretty if she hadn’t looked so famished, her skin was olive brown, her long black hair was tied back in a braid – which was good because he hated having to tell girls to tie their fucking hair up because it wouldn’t help to be pretty once they were dead… Her eyes were grey, a shade lighter than his. For as small and thin as she was, she looked strong though and that, he decided, was good.

“Thought we had an agreement, sweetheart. Don’t bother me, I won’t bother you.” he mocked.  

She didn’t answer. She kept watching him with wariness and disgust and maybe a little bit of fear. All of which was fair as far as he was concerned.

He started packing up. Books in the bag, homework tossed in the desk drawer for him to grade later or never, the flask he had resisted the urge of touching for most of the day back in his pocket… Fuck but he hated teaching. He couldn’t believe he was back to doing that.

He didn’t pay her attention because it wasn’t how it was going to be. He didn’t dance to her tune, she danced to his. At least, that was how it was supposed to work anyway.

He could already tell this one would be difficult.

Wouldn’t save her in the long run though.

“There’s a boy missing.” she said eventually, when it became clear he wouldn’t speak first.

She stepped inside the classroom and closed the door behind her. She didn’t wander closer though, she stayed within reach of the door and as far away from the desk he was standing at as she could. Skittish, he noted.

“And?” he asked in a bored tone.

She didn’t like that.

He wondered if the scowl was her natural expression or if it was especially for him.

“And he’s Clove’s boyfriend.” she added as if it was obvious and he was being obtuse on purpose. “The girl who chewed on your neck.”

He touched the wound by reflex. It was healing without problems but it would leave a scar. By his last count, it was his fourth vampire bite.

“And?” he insisted, dragging the question out.

“And maybe he’s… like her.” she snapped. “You have to do something.”

He burst out laughing. A rough bitter laugh that made her even more weary of him, he could tell. That or he was starting to piss her off.

“I don’t have to do shit.” he countered. “I’m not the Slayer.”

She glared. “The Chosen One thing is bullshit.”

“Don’t need to convince me of that, trust me.” he snorted. “But if you think the vampire thing is bullshit, you don’t need me, then, yeah? Can’t have it both ways, sweetheart.” He watched her for a second and then leaned against the side of the desk, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Tell me, if you weren’t out looking for vampires, what were you doing with a bow in the woods at night?”

“I was hunting.” she answered as if it that made the least bit of sense in that day and age.

Though, if the looks of her was anything to go by, it actually made some sense.

“Hungry?” he asked, coming to a split decision. “There’s a diner not too far away. Good food.”

“I’ve got archery practice.” she countered.

At least, it’s not a cheerleader this time, he mused.

“Your call.” He shrugged. “Let’s hope your missing boy doesn’t chew on anyone tonight…”

He left the classroom without looking back.

He was out of the building by the time she caught up with him, her bow and quiver slung over one shoulder and her school bag over the other one.

“You’re an asshole.” she commented. “People could die. You don’t care at all?”

“People die all the time.” he replied. “You’re gonna die.”

She flinched and he might have felt a tiny bit sorry if that part of him had still been operational. But it wasn’t. He had turned it off a long time ago. He couldn’t, wouldn’t care. She would die. They all did. There was nothing he could do about it and he didn’t believe in lying to his charges. If they listened to him, they might live that little bit longer. If not…

Somehow, he didn’t think Katniss Everdeen would be the kind of Slayers who listened.

“Asshole.” she repeated under her breath.

Despite himself, he smirked. At least, she had spunk. He hated it when they were meek and compliant. Watcher-raised slayers were always like that. Obedient. Good soldiers but no personalities, no room for adaptation. Eventually, that got them killed. He had refused to take up a Potential when he had been asked. He specialized in rogue slayers.

The Council of Watchers – or, as he had once heard William The Bloody say The Council of Wankers – made a point of collecting girls who could be called and placing them in a Watcher’s care as young as possible. It wasn’t a fail-proof system though. Potentials hoped and prayed to be chosen but for a hundred of them, only one was picked, and sometimes, the girl who was called hadn’t been detected or found in time to be brought up properly. The Council called it a rogue, he called it a victor.

He worked well enough with them.

Better than with the brainwashed ones, in any case.

The diner was nothing to sing about. It was decrepit, like almost everything else in this town, and there was grease everywhere – he had never found out if that was why the owner had named it Greasy Sae’s – but the food was decent and it hadn’t changed since the last time he had been there, decades ago. Anywhere else at that time of day, the place would have been crowded with teenagers but it was mostly deserted except for a few patrons sitting at the counter.

Either there was another newer place to get burgers somewhere he hadn’t found yet or people knew not to linger outside after dark. Slayers were called where they were most needed so he would bet on the latter.

Some Watchers actually brought their Potentials to hot zones in hope that it would trick fate into turning them into the Slayer. Usually, it only meant more dead girls before they even reached puberty.

And if they weren’t chosen by the time they turned eighteen they were either hired to work for the Council as operatives or researchers or tossed on the streets without the means to do anything of themselves. You couldn’t raise a kid without getting attached, of course, but that wasn’t well seen by the higher ups and it wasn’t advised to keep in touch with a Potential who wasn’t a Potential anymore. Things had to be professional, after all. Detached. Neutral. For tweed, Queen and country. Fucking British.

“Katniss?” one of the waitresses asked uncertainly, once they had grabbed one of the booths in the corner. The discreet ones.

It occurred to him that it might look weird for a forty year-old teacher to be seen at a diner with a sixteen year-old student. Rumors would be rampant if he wasn’t careful.

“Hello, Hazelle.” the kid answered in a casual voice. Either because she didn’t get why her friend looked worried to see her with a much older man or because she didn’t care at all. “Can I have two cheeseburgers with fries to go? He’s paying.”

She added the last part both defensively and aggressively. The defensiveness was for the waitress and to the implication she didn’t have the means to pay. The aggressiveness was for his sake, he figured, to let him know she was in charge.

It amused him. She amused him. She barely reached his shoulder and she looked like a draft could knock her over but she was so full of anger that he started thinking maybe she had what it took.

It was a dangerous road, of course. It led to hope. And hope led to heartbreak.

He turned his most charming smile toward the waitress – a smile that hopefully said I am not a pervert  who preys on little girls – and the woman relaxed a little but not by much. “What she said plus two cheeseburgers and fries for us to eat here, please. And a beer. You want something to drink?”

She looked taken aback by the lack of resistance on the bill front and, if possible, even more cautious than before. “Coke.”

And the weariness triggered the waitress’ warning bells again.

He would need to teach her to be a little more covert.

“Is Sae around?” he asked casually, because he knew the familiar name would go a long way into making himself look like less of a stranger.

“No, she’s rarely in anymore.” the waitress frowned. “You know her?”

“Yeah, for a long time. I was born here, actually. Went away, came back a few years later, went away again…” He outstretched a hand in introduction. “Name’s Haymitch. I’m the new History teacher at Seam High. And I ain’t trying to seduce the kid or something… I’m a family friend. Came to help.”

“Ah.” she exclaimed in a deep relieved breath with a guilty look for Katniss. “That makes sense with Aster’s troubles…” He had meant tutoring because that was his usual cover story and now he was intrigued. What kind of troubles? She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Haymitch. I’m Hazelle Hawthorne. My oldest son is taking History. Gale?”

He winced. “Only my second day, sorry… I don’t know all the kids yet.”

“No problem.” She laughed. “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t notice him. Let me know if he gives you troubles.”

She left to place their order and he waited until he was sure she couldn’t overhear before turning his attention back to Katniss who was studying him as if she couldn’t believe him.

“You lied to her.” she accused.

“Want me to get up on the table and shout to the world that you’re the Slayer and I’m your Watcher?” he snorted. “That would go down well.”

“Maybe we should.” she retorted “Those things the other night… They could have killed us.”

“They’re demons.” he clarified. “Subclass but demons. And, yeah, they could have killed us. But you go shout around about vampires and you’re gonna find yourself locked up in a loony bin before you can say Slayer.” He shook his head. “Rule number two is… the whole thing is secret.”

“What’s rule number one?” she countered.

“Survive.” he deadpanned.

He chose the word on purpose. Not don’t die or stay alive but survive. It was different. Surviving was harder.

She pondered that a moment and then sulked a little. “I meant you lied about being from around here.”

It was his turn to ponder that for a moment. He decided on the truth because… why not? “Didn’t lie. I left for good a while ago though.” Hazelle came back with their drinks and he waited until after she had assured them their orders were coming before addressing Katniss again. “What’s with the food? You’re stocking up or you’re feeding an army?”

She took a sip of her soda and at the way she closed her eyes for a fraction of second after the first taste, he simply knew it was a luxury she hadn’t afforded herself in a long time. It wasn’t that surprising, he supposed, given the worn out clothes and the malnourished look.

He didn’t expect a straight answer so he wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t get one.

“This Slayer thing…” she ventured after a moment. “It’s like a job?”

“More like a calling.” He waved his hand in the air a little angrily. “You can say no to a job, you can’t say no to destiny when it comes knocking.”

“I meant: does it pay?” she clarified.

Again, he found himself laughing. And that surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed before that day.

Johanna maybe.

Katniss was the first one who had ever asked that though.

“You could stop laughing every time I ask a question, you know.” she sulked, sliding down her seat and folding her arms in front of her chest like a petulant child.

Ah, fuck. She was one of those he was going to like. He could already tell.

That was bad.

“If you need money we can work something out.” he offered because he had too much of it anyway. Watchers were well paid. To keep their mouth shut and follow orders, mostly.

“I don’t take charity.” she snarled. “If it ain’t paid, I’m not interested. I need a job, not a calling.”  

“Then why don’t you already have one?” he asked, honestly curious. Poaching in the woods couldn’t keep her fed.

“Because people know I’ve been arrested for stealing before.” she grumbled. “They won’t hire me.”

She had a past with the police. That might become a problem. Slayers often found themselves in the middle of troubles. He would have to make sure she never got caught.

Hazelle came back with their food and he thanked her while Katniss pounced on the burger. She tried not to be obvious about it but it was glaring to him. He wondered when she had last eaten a proper meal.

He tried another angle. “Why do you need the money?”

He told himself he was getting to know her because it would help him prepare her for the mission. Not because he cared for her as a person.

She was already dead and he needed to remember that.

They were always already dead when they came to him. They just didn’t know it yet.

Half the cheeseburger was gone already and she washed it out with two greedy gulps of soda.

He had yet to touch his beer or the food.

“My sister. I take care of her.” she explained a little reluctantly.

That explained the burgers to go.

“Your parents don’t?” he probed carefully.

The Council hadn’t told him much about her. They never did. Slayers who activated in the wild were always a bit of mysteries – unplanned elements. They had given him a name, a place – and how fucking thrilled he had been to find himself back there – and a school picture that was two years out of date.

“My dad’s dead.” she snapped. Barked. As if he should have known or guessed or… “Mom’s… Mom never got over it. I take care of Prim.”

It would make it easier in a way. Parents could be difficult to reason with.

Still…

One parent dead and the other out of the picture, a sibling to support…

Too familiar.

He dipped one of the French fries in his glass of beer, ignoring her disgusted glance, before popping it in his mouth. “I can help with the money.”

She glared. “I don’t…”

“It’s not charity.” he cut her off. “I’m your Watcher.”

She watched him dip another fry in his beer. She was eating more slowly now, either because she felt sick from having gulped so much down or because she wanted to savor it.

“Because I’m the Chosen One.” she scoffed. “That still sounds crazy.”

“I know.” he offered because he did. It never got any less weird.

“I’m not special.” she insisted.

“I know.” he repeated. Another Watcher might have claimed she was special, that she was chosen, and destiny and prophecy and honor, yada yada yada… The truth of it was the girls were always ordinary girls up until the previous one died. It didn’t help to sugarcoat it.

“Well, thanks.” she remarked. She sounded less hostile and he felt his lips twitch so he busied himself by taking a bite of his cheeseburger. He wouldn’t care. Not this time. She munched on a fry, watching him. “What’s a Watcher?”

“A mentor.” he explained. “When a Slayer dies and another is activated the Council sends her a Watcher. Sometimes it’s the same person, sometimes not. Depends of the new Slayer’s needs.” He took a mouthful of beer. It tasted better with the fries. “I’m gonna train you: teach you to fight, teach you about demons, teach you how to use different weapons… That kind of things. Also, you’re gonna love that part… I’m gonna tell you where to go and what to do and you’re gonna report to me. Basically, I’m your boss.”

She snorted.

Yeah… He hadn’t thought it would be that easy either.

“Is Watcher a job or were you called by  fate too?” she mocked.

“A bit of both.” he chuckled bitterly. “But I’m being paid so I’m gonna say it’s a job. You should eat before it gets cold.”

She tossed him an odd look but finished her cheeseburger. Then, of course, she asked the question he knew had been coming from the start of the conversation. “How many Slayers did you know?”

He took another sip of beer, if only to make sure his voice would still be steady when he would speak. “Know? Seven. But I trained five if that’s what you want to know. I started when I was nineteen and I’m forty now so I’m gonna let you do the math as far as a Slayer’s life expectancy goes…”

She was staring at him but he didn’t look at her, he focused on eating his fries.

“So… The last Slayer… The one before me… You trained her?” she asked in a tone that wanted to be steady and was anything but.

“No.” he denied. “Last one was somewhere in Africa, I think. The one before her was mine, though. She was in Los Angeles. Nice weather, nasty demons. A Selkie drowned her. It was a mercy, really. She had gone mad.”

Annie had been too soft for this life.

He had never understood why she had been called in the first place. Too soft. He had known it from the start. One horror too many and she had started slipping into trances he couldn’t shake her out of. The Council had figured it out eventually, had sent a Watcher in training to assist him – a spy – the joke had been on them when instead of turning her in, Finnick had fallen in love with the broken girl. They had managed to keep her alive for a few months longer between the two of them.

Then, of course, she had followed that Selkie into the ocean and they had never known if the demon had tricked her or if she had just wanted it all to end.

‘Death is my gift’ she had whispered to him more than once and he hadn’t understood, not until he had found her floating body, not until he had been forced to restrain a yelling Finnick…

“Annie Cresta.” he added as an afterthought.

Her name figured in the Chronicles, of course, but he doubted anyone would read the journal he had kept about her. First because he had been told more than once than his records were awful and then because she hadn’t been one of the great ones. She had lasted a year. It wasn’t bad, more than most recently, but she hadn’t done anything noteworthy. She had just lost her sanity.

Girls and girls and girls sent to the slaughterhouse…

“How long will I last?” Katniss asked.

The question slapped him back to the present and he forced himself to focus, to ignore the burning need to take a sip of the hard liquor hiding in his pocket. He couldn’t afford to get drunk when he had a Slayer to mentor.

He had no good answer to offer though and the longer he remained silent the clearer it became that the silence was the answer.

She wasn’t the first one to ask him that. He could remember another girl, with honey blond hair and bright blue eyes asking him the very same thing in that very same dinner. In hindsight, he should have brought Katniss elsewhere.

“I have a sister.” she hissed between her teeth. Her eyes were shiny but the tears never made it through. “I’m all she has. I can’t…”

“If it comes down to that, when it comes down to that… I’ll make sure the kid’s taken care of.” he promised. That was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t promise to save her, but the sister he could see to. “I had a younger brother. I know what that’s like.”

Their eyes met and something passed between them, then.

An understanding.

They weren’t so much different when it came down to it, it seemed.

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 60928/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10

Read on: Ao3

“Emma no-middle-name Swan,” Belle announces, as she fills up the screen on Emma’s phone. “I have the greatest beyond greatest news for you.”

It’s Friday night in Emma’s apartment. Facetime is open, her phone propped up by a stack of books on the coffee table as she drinks a mug of tea in her pajamas. Her hand is wrapped in a complex bandage. Killian insisted on having her stop by a clinic on the way home from the farm. The doctors had assured her that she didn’t need stitches for the cut on her hand, but they did some testing to make sure it hasn’t been infected and then gave her a butterfly band aid to keep it together. Killian had then set off to his evening shift, after Emma reassured him for the ninetieth time that she actually fine and he didn’t to fuss over her.  In turn, she headed back to her apartment to skype her best friend.

Who apparently has the greatest news.

“Tell me,” Emma says, pulling her grey blanket around her and smiling at the camera.

“I got a grant to do a bit of research in London at the end of the month,” Belle tells her. “I’m coming to Europe! And you have to hang out with me.”

Emma bursts into a huge smile. She doesn’t realize how much she’s needed her best friend until now. Killian’s been great, more than great. But Belle is her soul-sister, the only friend she’s ever managed to make. And she’s going to see her in person. They’ll be able to talk, really talk. And see London.

“Belle, this is amazing!” Emma ooes. “I’ll book my trip there right away. Do you think it’s cheaper to fly or take a ferry or a train? What days are you getting here?’

Emma dives to grab her planner off the coffee table and starts to pen in the dates as Belle lists them off.

“Wow,” Emma exclaims, running her hand through her hair as she stares fondly at the newly penned dates in her planer. “This is really going to be amazing. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know,” Belle says, “You’ll be able to tell me everything about your little schemes and teaching foreign undergrads and your thesis and oh, yeah, the boy.”

“What boy?” Emma repeats.

As if she doesn’t know who Belle is talking about.

“The opera boy,” Belle says.

“Oh, him,” Emma says.

Who else would it be? Killian is her only friend in town, if she didn’t count the Queen of Misthaven. And maybe Professor Hood.

“Killian,” Emma tells her, “His name is Killian.”

“Hmm, now tell me about him,” Belle prompts. “Have you seen him again?”

Ugh, Emma is totally not ready to talk about him. About earlier.

“I mean we hang out most days a week,” Emma explains, hiding her blush in a gulp of tea.

“Oh, do you?” Belle asks, flashing a cheeky smile.

“He’s been showing me around,” Emma tells her, rolling her eyes, “Taking me to see different parts of Misthaven, going to the opera with me, teaching me how to horseback ride- just normal stuff.”

“Teaching you how to horseback ride? Shut up, Emma! That’s super romantic,” Belle ooes.

Emma ducks her head, her blush unable to be blocked any longer.

“Emma,” Belle gasps, “I’ve never seen you make that face before.”

“God, I know, Belle,” Emma mumbles.

“Did you kiss him?”

Emma doesn’t reply.

“Emma Swan! You kissed a boy!” Belle squeals.

“It was just a one-time thing,” Emma says quickly.

“No, no,” Belle says, “You like him. It’s not allowed to be a one-time thing. I forbid it.”

“You can’t forbid it,” Emma says, “I am a strong independent academic woman and I don’t need a man.”

“Obviously, you don’t need a man,” Belle says, “But the marriage plot isn’t about women needing a man. It’s about women making choices that make them happy and fulfilled.”

“My thesis makes me happy and fulfilled,” Emma protests.

“Yeah uh huh,” Belle laughs, “I wish I believed you.”

“I’m not doing any dating until this dissertation is turned in,” Emma sighs, “No matter how much I might be secretly in love with my Misthaven best friend.”

“We need to have a serious conversation about this at some point. In London, shall we?” Belle tells her, “But until then, don’t hurt that boy too much.”

Emma rolls her eyes.

“No, I’m serious, Emma,” Belle tells her, “He obviously likes you a lot. Be careful with his heart.”

Emma runs her good hand through her hair.

“I will,” She vows.

“What about you?” Emma asks, trying to change the subject.

“What about me?” Belle asks.

“How are things for you? Boys?” Emma prods.

Belle sighs, “Delightful. But complicated. Delightfully complicated? I’ll tell you all when we are in London. I can’t explain here.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m glad you are coming to Europe, you loser. Or else I’d never hear all your gossip,” Emma laughs.

“And I’d never have the opportunity to persuade you to stay with your boy,” Belle teases back.

“Ugh, okay. I promise I’m booking my ticket soon,” Emma tells her, “But I should probably sign off now. I’m going riding with the queen tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh, horseback riding with the queen,” Belle says in a horrible British accent.

“She has a Misthaven accent, you goon,” Emma tells her.

“Oh, horseback riding with the queen,” Belle repeats in an even more atrocious Misthaven accent.

“I’m hanging up with you,” Emma says.

“Alright, let me know when you buy that ticket, will you?” Belle says, “And seriously, girl, don’t be afraid to kiss that boy again.”

“Bye Belle,” Emma laughs, turning off her phone before her friend can give her any more advice.

It’s the next morning when Emma finds herself astride a horse. Again.

Seriously, she never expected her dissertation research to involve so much horseback riding.

But it seems that Prancer is even better behaved than Blaze was, so that’s something. Clearly someone has been riding this pony even though Princess Emma isn’t.

Which brings about the worst part: this pony is tiny.

Seriously, the poor thing was made to carry around 4-year-old Princess Emma, not 25-year-old Fake Princess Emma. What if she squishes the poor thing and it dies? Then the queen will hate her and never give her the money? This is such a mess.

“Do you ride often?” The queen asks her. She’s astride her mount, a large, dark horse named Diego.

“No, not at all really,” Emma says, “I had a lesson with a friend yesterday and it didn’t go very well.”

Emma raises her hurt hand.

“Oh you poor dear,” The queen exclaims, “Are you quite alright now? Is this frightening?”

Emma shrugs, trying not to say, “Get me off of this fucking horse.” Because honestly this pony is too tiny to be scary.

“Oh no, I’m grand,” Emma says, smiling kindly. “It’s so nice of you to take me out to ride.”

And it’s true. The forests here are very well maintained. Clearly the queen employs an extensive grounds crew. While the Du Bois forest was wild and whimsical, the Royal forests are neat and regal. There are tall trees that must have been there for centuries of Nolan rulers. There are ancient looking fountains, classical statues, and strategically planned flowers in color schemes. Emma is refined enough to appreciate it, but she thinks she prefers the enchanting feel of the Du Bois woods better.

And then there is the horses themselves. They are kept in tip top shape, groomed, well, preened more like it. Each horse has identical neat manes, saddle pads with the royal crest on it, and shiny saddles. If anything, Emma feels underdressed in her cable knit sweater and ankle boots that she picked up from the New Look in Old Town. If she ends up getting asked to ride this often in Misthaven, she’ll likely have to invest in some actual riding boots. She can’t believe it. Her, Emma Swan, foster-child-orphan-fraud, buying boots just for horseback riding.

“So, what does your mother think about you spending so much time with the Queen?” Mary Margaret asks, “I know I’ve been mentoring you a bit, but I hope she doesn’t feel like I’ve replace her.”

Emma stops her horse. It’s a conversation that they definitely should have had before now. But even in a situation like this, even when her whole deception relies on her being an orphan, a ward of the state, she hasn’t brought it up yet. It’s still a secret she guards carefully. She always has. It even took Killian a few weeks to coax it out her, Belle even longer.

But it’s got to come out at some point for this whole thing to go any farther.

“I don’t have a mother,” Emma whispers, her soft words echoing into the chattering forest, “Or a father.”

She tries to brace herself for the pity in the Queen’s face. That’s Emma’s life, always the subject of pity. The emotion is raw across Mary Margaret’s visage- grief, sympathy, and a hint of hope.

Oh. It’s that tiny glint of hope that Emma recognizes in her eyes that lets her know that she is really deep in this.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” The queen murmurs.

She reaches out to take Emma’s hand, despite the horses. It’s a solemn moment. To be honest, Emma’ a little annoyed by it. She’s not in the mood to relive her sad story. She doesn’t want to think about the trauma of growing up moving from house to house. Emma just wants to enjoy the gorgeous autumn weather and the daunting task of horseback riding.

But then again, this woman watched her family and friends get murdered. She lived in secrecy and exile for years. Maybe Emma can reveal a bit of her hardship to her.

“When did they pass?” Mary Margaret asks and Emma has to try not to roll her eyes in front of royalty. Because oh my god. This lady is totally fishing. She has it bad.

But maybe it’s more than that. The Queen also lost her family. They have that in common.

“I don’t really know,” Emma tells her. “I was found in an airport when I was three. They could be out there, but clearly they have no interest in me.”

“Emma-“

And Emma truly hates everything because just like with Killian, when she told him everything, it’s not a story she can tell without turning into an emotional, vulnerable, sobbing thing. This story is part of her neat little wall of bottles. And well, un-corking the bottle, is like un-corking a heaping grossness of emotion.

“Like people forget their water bottle in airports, and sometimes their winter gloves. But when they forget their luggage or their cellphone or some valuable, they go back and get them. So clearly I wasn’t valuable to anyone. Not to my parents. Or Aunts or Uncles. Or Grannies. Or whatever. And it’s taken my whole life to feel like I’m valuable to anyone.”

Queen Mary Margaret sees the unshed tears in Emma’s eyes and dismounts her horse. She gives Emma a gentle nod, and Emma slides off her mount. The mud squishes underneath her ankle boots. She looks down at her hands.

“Do you feel valuable to people now?”

Emma nods.

“To my best friend, Belle. She’s the first time I felt like I could trust anyone truly. Like I actually had a friend entirely on my side.”

She grits her teeth because she isn’t sure she’s ready to say it, but adds, “And Killian.”

“Killian Jones?” The queen grins.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “Him. He’s really great and I care a lot about him. Which is weird for me to care about other people. Sometimes caring for myself seems like a full-time job. But yeah.”

“And you like him?” The queen prods.

Emma sighs, “I don’t know. Maybe? The fact that I’m even saying that is impressive. I don’t like people. I just like surviving.”

The queen takes a step forward and puts her hands on Emma’s shoulders.

“You should know that you are valuable to me,” She says, her voice firm.

Emma swallows a sob that tickles her throat.

“I know I’m a crazy queen of a tiny country that swooped you up under my wing, but you matter to me. I really care about you, Emma.”

Emma wants to run for a moment. Because this is like Ingrid all over again. Because this whole thing is super fake and Emma has become the master manipulator she never wanted to be. Because Mary Margaret can’t actually love her, she just loves the idea that she’s her daughter. Because once someone cares about her, then they have infinite power to break her.

But for the tiniest flicker of a moment, she feels something stir inside that she’s never felt so entirely before. She feels like she has a mother.

And somehow she closes the space between her and Queen Mary Margaret. Here they are in the middle of this random ass fairy tale forest crying together as fake-mother-and-daughter and Emma knows this isn’t her thing. But it feels right. And recently she’s discovered that she can feel things she didn’t think she could feel before. So she hugs her, and lets her snot stain the sovereigns’ elegant riding jacket, and lets herself for the second time in two days, take a risk and feel something for someone.

“Have you ever cantered?” The queen asks, decades later, when they pull away.

“Uh no,” Emma replies.

“Would you like to learn?”

“Sure I guess, but I’m a little worried about my hand,” Emma murmurs, raising her gloved hand, that’s a little chubbier with her complicated bandage.

“You’ll be fine. Come on, get back on your horse. Let’s go.”

Emma remounts Prancer. Luckily, the pony is so tiny she doesn’t need a mounting block.

“Now, take up your trot,” The queen says, as she begins to bob up and down as her horse takes up its uneven rhythm.

Prancer and Emma follow. She tries to remember Killian’s instructions the day before on how to post, using the momentum of each stride to rise up and down.

“Alright, now give Prancer another firm squeeze,” Mary Margaret tells her, demonstrating on her own horse.

Emma thumps her legs against Prancer and the pony switches to a smooth, faster motion. Emma’s face breaks out into a smile. There is something so freeing about this. She feels connected with the horse, the world around her.

Suddenly the forest trail gives way to a valley, it’s nestled between two mountains, but it’s all open field. Emma’s heart skips a beat because there is something achingly familiar about this field, this valley. It’s like she knows it. She can’t know it. She’s never been here before.

It’s probably some fake déjà vu. She probably hiked in a valley similar to this with Killian. She probably saw something like it with Belle during their road trip to DC during college. Something, anything.

She pulls on the reins and slows the horse the down. She shoves the thought into a bottle, into the wall. But dang it. She’s getting worse at the wall thing. She’s getting worst at bottling things up.

“Are you okay?” The queen asks.

“Yeah,” She replies, “it’s all just a little overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, Emma, we can start slow,” She tells her.

Start slow. She breathes out and in. It sounds like a solution to more than one problem.

She glances at the queen who gives her a warm smile. Emma smiles back.

Trust. Emma thinks that the word. That’s why she’s having trouble bottling things up. She’s starting to trust people.

Emma and Queen Mary Margaret finish their ride an hour later. A groom meets them at the stable doors. He helps them dismount, before whisking the ponies away to be untacked and cleaned.

“Would you like a cup of tea before you head home?” The queen asks.

Emma nods, “Sure.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Mary Margaret tells her, “I so want you to see the house here. It’s the one that was meant to be my daughter’s.”

Emma remembers this. Princess Emma’s future home in the Southern Valley. Except there is no Princess Emma, so the house sit ominous empty.

“I still have a few staff who keep it running, of course,” Mary Margaret adds. “It’s a nice place to go to pepper up after a long ride.”

Emma smiles. They walk through the gardens up to the entrance. While these gardens are more subdued compared to those at her hilltop palace, the plants are still well cared for, flourishing in autumn colors- oranges and soft reds. Clearly the grounds are well taken care of.

“The library here is very nice as well,” The queen explains. “It’s bit more subdued than the library at the Summer Palace, but it’s cozier I think.”

Emma grins, already anticipating another book filled room. She wonders if this one will contain any secrets about Misthavian fairy tales. Her fingers already begin to tingle at the thought of all the books and worlds that they open up.

“Oh, Regina, how lovely to see you,” Mary Margaret remarks suddenly, as they watch a tall, elegant woman walk through the gilded doors out into the garden.

There is something incredibly familiar about this lady. Emma’s sworn she’s seen her before.

“Your Majesty,” The woman replies, giving a small curtsey to the Queen.

“Emma darling,” Mary Margaret says, “This is my dear friend, Prime Minister Mills. Regina, this is my friend Emma.”

The Prime Minister gives Mary Margaret a sharp look, raising one eyebrow incredulously.

Emma shifts uncomfortably, “Nice to meet you Madame Prime Minister.”

She puts out a hand. The woman gives it a dubious look, but shakes it.

“Please to meet you as well, Miss…” The woman waits for Emma’s reply.

“Swan,” Emma tells her, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma is an opera aficionado,” Mary Margaret explains. “And a literature Ph.D. from the states. She’s working on a research fellowship here.”

“From the states?” Regina repeats.

For a moment Emma is lost as to why this woman hates her so much. They’ve only just met. And she’s like the Prime Minister of the country and Emma is just a nobody.

“Can I speak to you a moment, your Majesty?” Regina requests, “Alone.”

Emma cringes as she watches the two step into the building. Emma sits down on one of the stone steps in the garden, bending over to wrap her arms around her legs. All of a sudden, the autumn air feels chilly.

All of a sudden, the feelings of trust that Emma felt so strongly before flicker before her. She wants to believe that she can trust the queen, but well, she’s been through this so many times before and she knows what’s going to happen.

As Emma holds herself together through the cold, she imagines the conversation going on inside the house. The Prime Minister is probably convincing the queen that she is delusional. She’ll explain how Emma is obviously a fake. I mean it’s ridiculous to be true- a girl named Emma who is from America, who loves literature and goes the opera. It’s like someone created to simply manipulate the queen into believing that it’s her daughter. And Emma knows it’s all true. She is the perfect person because it is all true. But that doesn’t prevent the tendrils of worry from wrapping their way around her stomach. What if the Prime Minister convinces her that she’s an imposter?

The jig is up, is all Emma can think, as tears threaten her eyes, her worries swimming before her. She’s going to be deported for impersonation. She’s going to be sent back to Duke and never finish her thesis and she’s going to go back to being a lonely-ass foster child with no friends and no prospects. God, she’s so stupid. She never should have trusted anyone. This happens every time she does. Why did she even think-

“Emma?” The queen interrupts.

Emma looks up at the sovereign, who sits down beside her.

“Oh, sorry, you shouldn’t have to sit on stone, you’re like a queen and-“

“It’s not a bother to me,” the queen says, “abet a bit cold.”

Emma chances giving her a smile.

“Is everything okay?” She ventures to ask.

“Regina,” The queen says softly. “Prime Minister Mills, that is. She worries about me.”

Emma is silent. Her stomach still fluttering with worry, the tears from earlier still stuck her in eyes- not yet shed, not yet dried.

“You must know, I suppose, that I’ve had a problem over the years. I don’t like giving up hope. And because of that, I’ve convinced myself that a variety of imposters were my daughter,” she admits. “I’m not proud of it. I know I’ve made myself into a fool in front of the kingdom and I know that Regina is just trying to prevent that from happen again.”

So, Emma isn’t wrong. Regina is on to her. Regina did just try to talk some sense into Mary Margaret. Which granted, to honest, Mary Margaret probably does need some sense talked into her at some point.

“But I told her that it’s not like that with you,” Mary Margaret says and Emma looks up.

She still doesn’t know what to say, some she swallows and raises her eyebrows and widen her eyes, hoping the expression will beckon a response out of the queen.

“I told her that you’ve become something of a mentee to me. That we share a love of books and culture. But regardless, that you’ve lived a life where people have left you. And I’ve lived a life where people have manipulated me and used me. Maybe our friendship is something that is purely healing for both of us.”

The tears that been threatening her eyes start to trickle down a little. Just the day before Emma vowed to cry less, but clearly that isn’t happening. This is now twice in just one outing.

“I told you that you are valuable to me, Emma,” the queen says, “And I wasn’t lying. You are valuable to me.”

Emma sniffles. The word trust echoes in her ears from earlier. A wave of something, some emotion, rolls over her. She’s right to trust Mary Margaret. She can’t believe it, but she is. She’s not like Ingrid or someone from her past who is going to desert her. She’s actually going to stand by her when it counts. Emma’s heart swells a little.

“It’s cold out here, isn’t it?” The queen says suddenly. “Let’s go inside, shall we? Find that cup of tea we discussed?”

“Yes,” Emma manages.

As she stands up, the queen pulls her into a hug and Emma feels herself melt a little. Then they walk inside and the queen talks to a servant and asks them to prepare for them tea in the library.

The library, it turns out, is Emma’s new favorite she’s seen in Misthaven. It’s not as big as the university one, or even the Summer Palace library. Instead, it’s circular and cozy. There are tall windows around the room and the ceiling is painted like the night sky. There is a crackling fire and blue armchairs. Emma has always assumed she’d be a Ravenclaw and this here is exactly how she’d imagine the common room.

They sip their tea together, munching on fresh pumpkin scones, as they discuss books they’ve read and horses and autumn, until the late afternoon cusps on evening. The October sun sinks slightly low in the sky.

“I suppose I should return home,” Emma says.

“Yes,” The queen responds, “I’ll call the car for you.”

“Do you mind if I grab a few books while I’m here?” Emma asks. She wonders if this library will have any more interesting fairy tales volumes.

The queen gives her a smile, with a slight twitch in the corners, “Help yourself my dear.”

The sovereign leaves the room as Emma takes to the shelves. She finds that many of the books here are Princess Emma’s own books. There are many more children’s stories than she’s seen in the Queen’s collection. Despite this, there are still a decent amount of fairy tales scattered through the shelves. Emma helps herself to a pile of books. She finds a volume of Dutch fairy tales that look promising. She’ll have to translate it, but that could be an adventure of its own. The she discovers a book of literary criticism on fairy tale based literature, which is pretty weird to find a kid’s library, but whatever. She adds it to the pile. Then finally, she comes across a thin hard covered book with an black cover embossed in gold reading, “Misthaven Fairy Tales.” Emma flicks open the cover to see an inscription from the queen herself.

“Shall you stop by on Tuesday for tea, as usual?” The queen asks, returning to the room.

Emma hastily shoves the books in her tote bag. She knows she has permission to take books, but this last one seems intimate. She didn’t get a chance to read the inscription, but she has this feeling as if she’s stumbled upon something precious. She nods, “And I’ll bring some things to study after if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, darling,” The queen says. “Thanks for joining me for tea and a ride today.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Emma says, offering a shy smile. “And for all the kind words.”

“Hey, I think you might be glowing,” Ruby tells Killian, as they swap shifts.

“I’m not glowing,” Killian tells her, though he can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks to the top of his ears.

“You are. Are you pregnant?” She teases, as she tosses her hair up in a ponytail.

He rolls his eyes. Then smiles, because he’s clearly taking up Emma’s mannerisms.

“So did you and Emma bang?” Ruby asks.

“Ruby, no,” He says, “I would do no such banging with Emma.”

“Okay fine, did you and Emma make love?” She says it super dramatically, mimicking his accent.

“No,” He snorts, “We kissed. That’s all.”

“You kissed? Killian that’s great!”

“It was just a one-time thing,” He shrugs.

“Uh huh,” Ruby grins, “That’s how those things always start.”

“Honestly, I respect Emma and if that’s what she wants-“

“Oh please. One kiss from you and I bet she’s dreaming of another.”

“Whatever Rubs,” Killian groans.

“You can doubt me if you want, but I bet you are going to get laid before Christmas,” Ruby remarks.

“It’s just October.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you a wide berth just to be safe.”

“Maybe never say wide berth again,” Killian replies, as he exits the bar area.

“Hey, I did say you were glowing!”

“Good bye,” Killian says, turning promptly away from his ridiculous friend.

He heads out of the bar and into the heart of old town, smiling as he feels the autumn sun on his skin, his eyes adjusting from the darkness of the bar. He knows that Emma is off with the queen and he probably won’t hear from her for a couple hours. But he can’t stop thinking about her and that kiss. It was like everything he dreamt about. And better. God, she’s a marvel.

He decides to wait for her return by finding a book to read. For such a literary city, Misthaven has a woeful number of bookstores. Which of course is even more reason for him to want to open his own- he’ll definitely have the market. So instead, he heads towards one of the many charity shops in town. They’ve been his favorite place to find books, since he arrived in Misthaven years ago. What is the point of spending a fortune on books, when he can adopt orphaned ones for pennies?

He turns into his favorite shop along high street and walks inside. After nodding at the woman at the counter, he heads straight to the back where the books are. As usual, the section is stocked full of paperback mysteries and romance novels. Not that Killian doesn’t like these kind of books, or looks down upon them, but today he wants something classic. Emma is so well read, and while Killian knows that he isn’t too shabby himself, he feels the need to prove himself regardless. He studies the shelves and eventually decides on Jane Eyre. He’s never read it before, but knows enough about literature to think that the gothic themes might strike a nice autumnal tone.

He purchases the book and heads outside. It’s nice enough that he can take a seat outside Mamie’s, reading and drinking coffee in the autumn air. He’s drawn in immediately by the young foundling girl and her lonely childhood. He knows a thing or two about lonely childhoods. He’s so entranced in the book that he startles when his phone rings.

“Hello?” He asks, frowning at the unfamiliar number.

“Is this Mister Killian Jones?” A voice asks with an English accent.

“It is,” He answers.

“I’ve got some new for you,” The voice replies.

And the news makes Killian drop his phone.

Tagging some pals: @sambethe @lenfaz @pocket-anon @the-corsair-and-her-quill@kmomof4@kiwistreetswan@princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story@shady-swan-jones@katie-dub@1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob@midnightswans

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 21 – Assaults

“Phew... Phew... Phew......”

“Is there anything that concerns you, my lord?”

Lunark finally opened her mouth, unable to endure Muzaka’s endless sighs.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that...”

Muzaka dropped his head in the middle of his monologue, staging grave sorrow.

“We had such a smart, talented, competent researcher to help us to great extent. But I’ve done nothing for him. And guess what? I call myself a lord.”

Lunark wanted to assure him that he has done more than enough by not making himself an unwanted guest in the lab, but she decided not to and tuned him out.

For the past 2 days, Yuhyung had been working jointly with Adne on the QuadraNet project in the werewolf realm, without any time to catch his breath, as if his life depended on it.

And today is the day he must return to Lukedonia.

“Once you escort him to the nobles, they will take him back to Korea. Is that right?”

“You are correct. But before that comes a more important step.”

“Aye. As soon as he reaches back to Lukedonia, we can finally warm up the engines for the QuadraNet.”

Both Muzaka’s and Lunark’s faces lit up with faint anticipation as he mentioned the initiation of the network they all had been waiting for.

“Boy, nobles are surely busy. And you are surely busier.”

Lunark merely bowed her head to a pregnant comment Muzaka offered.

“So lemme ask you one more time. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“I am simply doing my best as the warrior of wolfkind.”

“But there’s really no need for you to escort him back to nobles, is there? I mean, you’re not the only warrior we have.”

“My greatest appreciations, but I am fine, my lord.”

Muzaka’s face was marred with a mixture of gratitude and ruefulness, until it was painted with a mischievous smile.

“Or do I smell something fishy here? Why are you so eager for this project?”

“...Beg your pardon?!”

“Is there a reason why you need to excel for this project? Like, is there someone you expect to marvel at you? Hmm?”

Muzaka stared at Lunark, sweating and violently shaking her head, like a niece playing pretend at her uncle’s prank.

“T-that is nonsense, my lord.”

Lunark felt her heart sink – no, drown to the abyss of nether region upon Muzaka’s teasing. She feared for a moment that Frankenstein’s name might be brought up.

She thus determined she must and will hide her feelings more meticulously, thoroughly.

It was for more than the fear of getting teased by her fellow werewolves upon having a crush on the blonde human. She knew none of the werewolves should know about this, due to a phenomenon she witnessed two days ago when Yuhyung made it to the werewolf lab.

As soon as Yuhyung made himself available on their land, werewolves buzzed in full interest in him.

So that’s him...?

My, that is the WEAKEST-looking organism I’ve ever seen.

It’d take less than a breath to wind him up on the other side of the planet. Hehe.

In the end, Garda and Lunark, having sensed Yuhyung’s nervous apprehension of the crowd, had to intervene and make them scatter away. Nonetheless, Lunark could see and hear werewolves gossiping and chatting about the very first human to be officially invited to their domain in werewolf history.

By the way, is it just me, or is he kind of cute? He keeps jumping whenever there’s someone around.

I second that.

I would have tried hitting on him, if only he weren’t human.

And then Lunark was held captive to the chatters from young werewolf girls.

Okay, so he’s human. What about it?

I’d thought we’ve aborted anti-human propaganda by now. Remember? We even got help from a human named... Frankenstein, was it? So what about him being human?

Don’t tell me you already forgot how our lord...

Right afterwards, every mouth was sealed tight, the atmosphere rendered frigid at once. They all knew what the last speaker was about to bring up – Muzaka fell in love with a human and gave birth to a half-blood, only to meet tragic end that can by no means be defined as a mere devastation. And now every werewolf alive has come to know of such heritage the returned lord harbors.

As a result, a new, invisible, yet undeniably-there taboo rose among werewolves: love with a human.

Not that anyone dared to acknowledge such taboo, with the throne reclaimed by Muzaka.

And they had another legitimate reason to keep this new taboo legitimate.

Besides, our lord officiated it himself. Getting drunk is fine, and getting broke is fine. But getting laid with a human is not okay.

He said we should rather break a pen that belongs to a certain Mr. Bad Boy and fling it in his face.

I wonder what that means, by the way.

Since love with a human is not strictly illegal, nobody would banish Lunark for her feelings. Nonetheless, she could not even imagine what everyone would be like once it is known that her heart has been stolen by a human.

‘There’s no way I want them to find out,’ Lunark thought.

However, at the same time, she wished she could make it official. She wished she could walk hand-in-hand with her knight, under everyone’s blessing.

‘What are you thinking, Lunark? You don’t even know whether he’ll reciprocate.’

Lunark had to wrestle with her inner voice, until the time has come to take Yuhyung away.

“Thank you for everything. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I-it’s nothing, really! I... I was honored to provide help.”

“Sure. Once the QuadraNet is alive, and once you make it back home, please send my regards to my pal.”

After sharing his good-bye with Muzaka, Adne, and the rest of the werewolf doctors and researchers, Yuhyung tagged Lunark towards the boundaries of werewolf realm. He had thought this trip would be peaceful, albeit brief.

How wrong he was, for this time he found himself two companions, excluding Lunark.

“I see no reason for you guys to escort us.”

“Escort my rear end.”

“We’re taking a walk before going on a patrol, that’s all.”

Kentas and Dorant very nonchalantly replied.

Lunark glanced at Yuhyung, for she feared the puny human would be suffering from pressure of being shepherded by two werewolf warriors. Her fear was proven authentic, his face about to blow up.

Pushing down a sigh, she looked around at her fellow warriors.

“We’ll take off from here. It can’t hurt to hurry, can it?”

She was addressing all three men, and they agreed with a nod.

Once Lunark and Yuhyung were gone, Kentas and Dorant began their usual patrol. It took less than 10 minutes for them to meet up where they first split up.

“All clear.”

“Same here.”

“Now let’s go back.”

“Contrary to my fear, our land can’t be quieter. And that’s a good thing.”

“You can say that again. I couldn’t ask for more if things are kept this wa...?”

Dorant flinched in the middle of his sentence. He heard something he should not possibly and cannot possibly hear at the moment – a whirring alarm that signals intruders at the boundaries of their land.

He realized he was not imagining things the moment he and Kenta leapt from where they stood, when with a bam the ground was shattered.

In midst of a hazy pillar of particles of dirt and earth that soared from where they were a second ago, Kentas and Dorant sharpened their eyes to locate the cause of this.

“What the...?”

Kentas moaned in dismay, while Dorant fastened his lips and glared at their target – or targets.

Before them were slender silhouettes of identical colors, details, and designs, as if they were born from the same mold. It was so very obvious they were a walking epitome of human biotechnology.

Had Lunark left a tad later, and had she beheld these four figures, she would have demonstrated a backflip with her eyes and immediately identified them as weapons created specially against heads of noble clans – the ones handcrafted by the 9th Elder and Ignes Kravei.

*****

Meanwhile, a rocky island near Lukedonia

He knew he should have visited sooner. Although he had been busy ever since his return to Lukedonia, he knew it was an excuse. Moreover, he could not find courage to pay a visit.

He could feel guilt sweeping over him as he stood, partially because he could not make his appearance before this one, and partially because the reason why he visited was not exactly for the sake of paying his proper respect.

“Razark... What am I supposed to do?”

His tone, voice, eyes – they were all plastered with despair.

His hair was still donned in the fashion reminiscent of Razark, just like he did for the night when Deneb Illiness invited Seira.

“I want to be like you... I’m trying to be like you. But I can’t.”

Rael shut his eyes tight as he lamented.

“The patriarchs found me today, and they... They told me... (Rael sighed as deeply as he could.) They told me to ask for Seira’s hand in marriage.”

Rael’s mind swung back to what had happened before he made his way to the rendezvous to pick up Yuhyung.

We hear that a handful of nobles are approaching Seira for her affection.

Deneb Illiness in particular is the most ardent pursuer.

And I see no reason why Kertia should fall behind.

Rael almost jumped out of his skin as he denied joining the pursuers.

He could still remember what he had yelled in Seira’s presence the last time they had met. More importantly, he had no intention of taking Seira’s side this way.

Why, you should be glad, sir.

You will finally get to make the girl yours.

He almost lost it when the patriarchs reprimanded him, but he could not bring himself to actually lose it. He was reminded of the days when he claimed Seira will be his.

Rather than accusing the patriarchs of bringing up such an atrocious idea, he was made immobile in order to curse his past self. By the time he broke free from his resentful reverie, patriarchs were already gone, demanding him to write a marital letter to Seira.

“I know the idea is hideous, not meant to be realized. But you know what...? The idea came up that if I do as they say, they might come to respect me a little.”

Rael minced his lips with his teeth, to the point of almost ripping them apart.

“I know. I’m such a despicable excuse of a noblekind.”

I don’t deserve to be your brother.

I don’t deserve the name of Kertia.

I never deserved to be the head of a clan.

However, Rael was not given the time to spill his self-derision, when he turned rigid as he conceived a murderous presence.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Three objects landed within his identifiable range, with a sound effect that no ordinary life form can dispense.

His instinct screaming at him that it is time for a battle, Rael wiped off in a flash the anguish that was rooted to the core of his facial muscles. He slipped his mask on before he turned his eyes to see how thick is the skin of intruders that dared to challenge him where his brother fell asleep. And his eyes bulked up to twice as their normal sizes.

“How can this be...?”

The colors were different, but the designs were unmistakable. He remembered them; they were the weapons created specially against heads of noble clans.

Ones that Ignes brought with her upon her first visit to Korea. Ones that he had fought himself.

(next chapter)

Yep - it’s time for some fights and dangers. After all, this is a Noblesse fic lol. However, the battle in next chapter will come with a tiny surprise unforeseen in the original webtoon. Find out what it’s like next week!

And one more thing - it’s revealed that Muzaka has come to harbor a very negative stance regarding relationship with human (in fact, he even said it himself that they should rather break Frankie’s pen and fling its pieces in his face lol). This will work as another influence on Lunark’s future relationship with Frankenstein, and I can’t wait to write about it!