#updating my pinned so sorry if it looks wonky for a minute!

[forest-hashira]

About Me

i'm Fallon! 24, they/them pronouns (gendered compliments/descriptors (e.g. pretty, handsome, etc.) are generally fine). acespec/sapphic, generally just refer to myself as queer for both gender & sexuality stuff.

i write fics sometimes, masterlist(s) in pinned post. mostly sfw things, but occasional nsfw works are posted. each work has content & warnings listed individually at the beginning. any significant warnings will also be tagged as "cw [warning]" and "tw [warning]". main thing you'll probably have to worry about here is occasional omegaverse, but if you have something else you'd like me to tag, just send me an ask.

while this blog supports dark content, it will not frequently make an appearance here. i have very few triggers that i avoid, but i am easily squicked and will almost always avoid fics that contain eating disorders, self harm, cnc/noncon/dubcon, piss/scat, & gore, among others. please do not bring these things into my inbox. i will block you.

i post somewhat sporadically about my selfships. if you don't want to see that content, you can block "self ship tag", "satomochi", and "suguangel" for my self ships, and "friends ships" for friends' selfship posts.

[kylo-v]

Under the Big Top: Chapter 1

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Minor Sexism

Synopsis: Reader gets her first murder case

*******************************************************

One week later.

It was your first case in a few months. The last one had been such a bust and word got around that it stifled your work for weeks. Thankfully Morrison had been kind enough to let you float by on some of his earnings, but that was wearing thin. Your stomach growled loudly as you approached the mildly extravagant mansion. It's even bricks and elegantly cared for shrubbery intimidated you slightly. You barely had a concept of this amount of money being a single working woman with sparse money making opportunities. All you had eaten in the last few days were a few cups of coffee, stale bread, and a handful of potatoes and carrots. God you were sick of potatoes. God you hoped your stomach would embarrass you during the meeting. Maybe he would even feed you. You made a note to yourself to not devour anything like an animal if offered to you.

You straightened the lapelles of your jacket and pressed down the wild strands of your long, long hair. Morrison had thrown you a bone with this case, not like it was much of his choice. The client had specified that he wanted a woman’s touch when it came to this one. You wondered what that meant… You knew it was a murder case, and pretty brutal as you had seen the pictures of the body, but nothing that shocked you to your core. Shaking the thoughts away and calming your anxiety, you reached for the lion headed door knocker and knocked three times. Still the anxiety crept back up your spine as you waited for an answer. You pulled a thread off your sleeve and refixed your cufflinks. You grimaced as you looked down and noticed your shoe was untied, but before you could bend over to tie it a penguin of a man opened the door. His nose was held higher than any other part of his body as he looked down his glasses at you with slight distaste. You were used to this at this point, men didn’t appreciate seeing a woman wearing men’s clothing.

“I’m Private Investigator (Y/N) Caulfield. I have a meeting with Dr. Thompson this afternoon,” you say with confidence. You had rehearsed this at least twelve times in the mirror this morning and internally patted yourself on the back when you didn’t stumble over a single word.

“I know who you are. Right this way,” the man said with slight disdain as he moved himself to the side to allow you to step into the mansion. 

The mansion might not have looked lavish on the outside, but the inside was a different story. The walls were papered with purple and red patterns that reached to the tops of the high ceilings. The furniture was all made of heavy, polished mahogany and decorated with accents of gold. You were directed to a grand staircase and greeted by a cinnamon colored cocker spaniel. She approached you cautiously and barked in response when you attempted to reach down and pet her. 

“She bites,” the man, who you now assumed was Dr. Thompson’s butler, barked in the same tone as the dog. 

“Now, now, Abraham,” a voice broke the awkwardness. At the top of the stairs was a sloppily put together man, “Is this anyway to treat our guest?” He was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and beard and tired, aged blue eyes.

“My apologies, Dr. Thompson,” the butler replied, straightening himself but unable to hide the weariness in his tone. You glanced at Dr. Thompson and noticed his misbuttoned jacket and uncombed hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days but given the nature of this case, you understood his disheveled appearance. 

“Let’s talk in my office, Mrs. Caulfield. Come on, Maggie,” he beckoned the cocker spaniel who followed him obediently. 

“It’s Miss Caulfield, Dr. Thompson. I’m not married,” you huffed slightly. This was something that always annoyed you but couldn’t be helped, you supposed. 

“Oh, my apologies, Miss Caulfield. I was under the impression that Morrison was your husband,” he replied as he held the door open to his office, allowing you inside. Maggie cut you off first and darted in to hop into her dog bed seated by the desk.

“Yes, that is usually everyone’s first impression…” you sighed slightly while you take a seat directly across from Dr. Thompson’s chair. You took a quick glance around the room. Fine, leather bound books and scattered items collected on the bookshelves around you and paper files were stacked neatly on the desk in front of you. The walls were littered with diplomas, awards, and a few pieces of unremarkable artwork of landscapes. Hanging at the opposite wall of the desk is a taxidermied boar’s head with wonky eyes and you have to control an outburst of laughter at the state of this poor creature, whose one eye is looking to China and the other to Antarctica. 

“My first big kill. I used a Wincester ‘94 to clock the bastard in the skull,” Dr. Thompson said with confidence when he caught you staring at the boar’s head for far too long.

“I don’t know much about animal hunting, Dr. Thompson,” you said politely, not looking to engage in any more small talk.

“Right, right…” Dr. Thompson gaped for a minute but cleared his throat as he took a seat in the large armchair on the other side of his desk. 

“Onto business,” you say as you pull out a hand notebook and a pen from the breast pocket of your jacket.

“Are you aware of the nature of this case, Miss Caulfield?” Dr. Thompson asked cautiously as he reached down to pat Maggie on her little sleeping head.

“I am. These types of cases have not stopped me before. Murder, 23 year old female found in the woods, mutilated and dismembered. Police investigate and rule it murder by hitchhiker but the culprit is never found.”

“Good, Morrison updated you well.”

“Thank you, I did all the research myself,” you retorted casually without looking up from your notes. Dr. Thompson couldn't help but smile slightly.

“Do you know why I asked you to get involved, Miss Caulfield?” 

“No, sir,” you said as your stomach growled with slight persistence, though you ignored it.

“I requested you because this case is...sensitive,” Dr. Thompson pursed his lips nervously. He reached down and opened a drawer in his desk, after a moment of shuffling around he pulled out a file folder. He laid the folder on the desk and retrieved two small, black and white pictures from it and handed them to you. Each photo was of a blurry portrait of a man, who at first glance could have been mistaken for one person but closer inspection proved otherwise. Both men had the same brisk white grey hair though in one picture one had it slicked back as opposed to down in the other. As you examined closer you realized these men were brothers, not just brothers but twin brothers. You could tell by the face structure, but the one with long hair had a stronger jaw and a small twisted mustache. He was smirking cockily in the photo, while the other man had a piercing and serious gaze. It sent shivers down your spine in an uncomfortable way.

“These men are called Dante and Vergil Sparda. They run a circus by the name of Devil May Cry. The body was found not even a mile from the circus grounds though police could make no connection between them and the murder. Many of the eye witnesses claimed that they saw a man wandering around the campgrounds that they didn’t recognize. The police wanted to wrap the case up quickly and just pinned it on this supposed "interloper". Appearantly they have other things to worry about than the murder of a "whore",” Dr. Thompson said spitefully. You glanced up at him through your lashes and could see his hands clenched into fists on the top of the desk.

“She meant something to you…” you said in a calm tone while you carefully slide the two photos back to him. His fists unclenched and he visibly intended his shoulders. He sighed and nodded his head regretfully.

“She was my lover…” Dr. Thompson paused, “I...I tried to get her out of that lifestyle and bring her here but the man she worked for wouldn’t let her and we would have to meet in secret. I loved Marie, I truly did...” His voice cracked slightly and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Your eyes softened with sympathy and you bit your lip gingerly. This was the shit that really got to you…

“And you think these men are involved somehow?” You point to the pictures lying untouched on the desk. Dr. Thompson inhaled deeply to compose himself and nodded. 

“The night before Marie was murdered, she told me that she would be gone for a few days while she and three other girls entertained here,” he opened the file folder from earlier and handed you a flyer from the circus. It depicted a black lion roaring with the words Devil May Cry circus coming out of its mouth. Scrawled across the bottom is the location of the grounds and dates. It seemed that they would only be stationed in their current location for 2 more weeks, and there was no telling where they would go after that.

“Marie wasn’t murdered by an interloper, she was murdered by someone or something on these grounds,” Dr. Thompson said deadly seriously, “It’ll be dangerous, so make allies. Are you still up for this? I’ll pay you anything, please.”

You pondered for a moment. The stakes in this case were much higher in this case than any other one you had had before, but the paycheck was nice and something seemed to...pull you in. Your stared at the picture of the black lion for an extended period of time. It’s shadowy fur seemed to glisten with purple and it’s fierce eyes drew you in with its amethyst intensity. For a moment, you had to remind yourself it was just a drawing. 

“Why me?” You asked as you gathered the flyer and pictures into the file folder to take with you. Dr. Thompson smiled sadly at your quiet acceptance.

“I just wanted someone who would care…” he said solemnly. 

After half a payment in advance and a few signed contracts, the case was yours. The gold in your pocket weighed heavy in your trousers and tugged your suspenders tight against your shoulders. You didn’t care. You had enough money to buy ten pairs of suspenders if you wanted! You laughed gleefully and marched proudly towards the end of the driveway where Morrison was waiting for you in his car.

“Seems things went well,” Morrison smiled cockily, the smoke from his cigarette swirling the inside of the car.

“You betcha! First case in months and it’s something worth my time,” you said as you climb into the passenger seat of the clunky old Model T. You splayed the file folder in your lap and scanned over the notes once again. It contained police reports, eyewitness testimonies, and a few extra photos of the workers. You picked up a photo shoved between a bundle of papers clipped together. It showed a dark haired man with plush lips and calm eyes. The picture was a full body and showed off his neck and arms that were covered in intricate tattoos. Sat atop his shoulder was a mighty bird with a piercing gaze and at his feet was the same black lion from the flyer. Again you felt that same pull you felt earlier when staring at the drawing of the lion. You flipped the photo over and written on the back was just a simple letter. 

V… 

What was this pull? You didn’t know, but you were determined to suppress it.