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ariaadagio · 5 years

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Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs (Part 6)

Hello, all! It seems like it’s about that time again to continue my fic rec series! I haven’t had a ton of time to read since the S4 finale because I had a pretty hellacious summer, after which I’ve been so focused on writing. Hence why this has taken so long.

DISCLAIMER: These recs are organized by author, and the order is not meant to imply an order of preference. All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted. If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know. Lastly, this is just a list of things I’ve read that I really enjoyed, and I want to spread the love. That’s it. Period. It’s not politics, and I have no ulterior motives, okay?

NOTE: You can find my previous five rec posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 3), here (part 4), and here (part 5).

And, so, without further ado!

The Devil Goes to Shul by @arlome. Deckerstar. 7k words. Post-S4. In which Lucifer meets a Rabbi. This is such an interesting commentary on the differences between the various Abramahamic religions’ perceptions of the Devil. Rabbi Schulman is a well-drawn, fascinating, fantastic character. A fic that’s great food for thought, with a dash of good humor, and a little smut thrown in for good measure.

Of Honey, Sulphur, & Bone by @aryanightshade. Deckerstar. 35k words. Post-S3. In which the end of 3x24 goes a little differently. Cain captures both Lucifer & Chloe and takes them prisoner, absconding with them to his bunker in the desert. This fic has some graphic blood and gore scenes, so be wary if that’s a trigger for you, but the revelation; Chloe’s dueling panic, doubt, and empathy; the beautiful hurt/comfort; and the emotional pulse of this story makes for a riveting read.

The Ghosts of Picnic Table #29 by @elleflies. Deckerstar. Maze & Chloe. ~50k words when completely posted. Post-S4. This story is technically a WIP because it’s still in the process of being posted, but it’s already completely written, and I know it’s good because I betaed it and got to see how it all ends up, so I feel confident recommending it, now. A year after Lucifer departed, Chloe is still grieving his loss, when an unusual case at a haunted picnic table crops up, and she enlists Maze’s help to investigate. Lots of female bonding and fun in this story. And a ton of emotional intimacy and mutual pining for Deckerstar when Lucifer mysteriously starts showing up in Chloe’s dreams.

Boom by emynii & @obliobla. Lucifer & Dan. 4k words. In which Lucifer & Dan get trapped under an exploded building, and the only thing that’s stopping Dan from being crushed are Lucifer’s fanned out wings. Cue revelation. Cue platonic Douchifer stuff. And have some hurt Lucifer and hurt Dan to top it off. A lovely mix.

Trouble by Design by @hiromystory. Deckerstar. Lucifer & Dan. 76k words. Originally recommended as a WIP, now it’s done! A post-S3 Deckerstar scenario told in novel form. My favorite thing about this story is actually the author’s in-depth exploration of how Dan might react to a Devilish revelation. Hint: not well. Hiro deftly tackles Dan’s feelings about some of the questionable stuff he’s done through the lens of him now knowing the punishment that awaits him, and it’s both captivating and heart wrenching.

Guilt by liannabob. Deckerstar. 22k words. Post-S3. In which Chloe doesn’t take the revelation of Lucifer’s devil-ness all that well, and dire consequences ensue. This fic. Was. So. Angsty. The idea of Lucifer slumming in Hell loops for things he loves about Earth is just ugh. So good. And awful at the same time. But in a good way. And I promise the payoff for this angst is so touching and very worth it.

Patrick the Bartender Is Not Paid Enough for This Shit by liannabob. Patrick. 15k words. Canon-compliant S1 fic. I know, I know. Patrick, you’re saying. Who the hell is Patrick? Remember way back in the S1 pilot, when that bartender pops up from behind the bar, after having given Maze some head, and Maze is all cat-caught-the-canary, “You can go, Patrick.” Yes. That Patrick. This fic basically takes that character who never got a single line and gives him a whole personality and backstory and POV. The premise of this fic is that pretty much every employee at Lux low-key knows (and is fine with the fact) Lucifer is the actual Devil. And it’s. AMAZING. HYSTERICAL. And PERFECT. If you never read another OC fic in your life, at least give this one a shot. You won’t regret it.

Smoke & Mirrors by @theleafpile. Deckerstar. 80k words. An all-human mobster AU. In which Lucifer is the Devil of Los Angeles, and Chloe is still a homicide detective for the LAPD, who gets involved with him against her better judgment. This fic manages to maintain the integrity and essence of the characters we know and love, while simultaneously transporting them to an entirely new premise, and I loved it. I love theleafpile’s lyrical writing style. And I love the little bits of mythology she injects that suggest … this “all human” AU might not be what it seems on the surface. It takes a special kind of writer to pull off this kind of transformative AU, and theleafpile does it aplomb.

The Free Parking Jackpot Rule by lilith_morgana. Deckerstar. 3.8k words. Interstitial, canon-compliant S3 fic. Offers a little bit more context for the unicorn Trixie painted on Lucifer’s cheek in S3 on monopoly night. A concentrated shot of angst, with some lovely characterization to boot.

The Delusional Devil by @maimat2. Deckerstar. 25k words. Late S2 era. A casefic case-study on Chloe’s empathy. Based on the premise that she naturally assumes Lucifer’s wholly human self has some kind of mental trauma or disorder. When Lucifer starts acting more … more, she assumes he’s losing his grip on reality. I loved the touching way this story delved into Chloe & Lucifer’s friendship, and of course I loved all the hints of Lucifer’s otherness, which were tempered by Chloe’s human perceptions.

I Will Fear No Evil by @miahclone. Lucifer & Dan. 18k words. An interstitial S4 piece, arguably canon-compliant until proven otherwise. In which Lucifer & Dan are taken prisoner by some cultists, and Lucifer is subjected to an exorcism that goes horribly wrong. WARNING: if you suffer from emetophobia, this fic will be extremely triggering. I don’t have emetophobia, and I still got a bit queasy. There is also some pretty graphic blood & gore. This is quintessential whump. But this is well worth a read if you’re a sucker for Dan & Lucifer platonic bonding, hurt Lucifer, hurt/comfort in general, endings that make you go, “Whoa! New head canon!” and humor in the face of shit circumstances. Which I very much am. So. There you go :D

De Profundis by @mswyrr. Amenadiel & Lucifer. 3k words. Post-S4. Amenadiel offers Lucifer a solution to the problem of Hell needing to be ruled by an angel. A beautifully written brother-bonding fic, and, honestly, I think it’s the most straightforward way to fix how S4 ended.

Time Heals All Wounds by @notonelineff. Deckerstar. 23k words. Post-S3. Fills in the blanks for how things could have gone after S3. Lucifer is in dire need of medical aid, and Chloe tries to help. Satisfying hurt/comfort, and a lovely resolution.

Ouroboros by @pandainthestars. Deckerstar. 3k words. Events happen slightly differently in 4x09. Chloe & Lucifer chase after Kinley. Lucifer goes full-Devil when they’re in pursuit, not when they’re at Lux, which prompts some very interesting/poignant discussion between Chloe & Lucifer. I loved Chloe’s assertion of the ouroboros metaphor. A quick, angsty read.

A question of faith by @pixelbypixelfanfic. Ella & Lucifer. 2.1k words. A post-reveal fic for Ella, in which Lucifer & Ella discuss her faith. A poignant, thoughtful little piece that I really enjoyed.

Soup Kitchen by @tarysande. Deckerstar. 1k words. Speculative scene-replacement, S4. A heart-wrenching little interstitial scene for 4x03 that looks at how things may have gone if Lucifer hadn’t already been pushed by Father Kinley into doubting Chloe’s intentions.

my definition of holy (changes with each loss) by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 3k words. Post-S4. So … this fic doesn’t end happy. At all. Beware if that’s a problem for you. But if you want some delicious, cutting, heart-wrenching angst to roll around in for a while, this fic is your jam. The concept of Chloe praying to Lucifer intermittently, giving him updates, sending him her love, as she lives her life on Earth, and he’s stuck in Hell is just … oh, my god, my heart.

drunk in love by @thewollfgang. Deckerstar. 4k words. Post-S4. This fic isn’t in alphabetical order with wollfy’s other fic on this list, but I’m doing that intentionally, because if you want a happy ending for the previous nuclear angst bomb, I recommend head-canoning this as your ultimate resolution, where Lucifer & Chloe are reunited, and everything is gooey and perfect and the world is puppies and kittens. I live to see tipsy Lucifer & Chloe at Lux through the perspective of their friends/found-family. I hope we get something like this in S4.

The Trouble with Brittanies by @theyahwehdance. 500 words. A hysterical little ficlet in which Lucifer calls Chloe and asks for help with the Brittanies. I saw this ficlet evolve from a live discussion that made me laugh so hard my belly hurt. I mean, it’s an honest misunderstanding ….

#deckerstar #lucifer & dan #lucifer & ella #lucifer fanfiction #fic recs #aria recs #lucifer on netflix

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youremypride · 6 years

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The Truth About Love | Ch.4

☽ Have you ever love someone so much, you would do anything for them? Even disturbing the peace between the living and the afterlife? Love knows no boundaries but there is always a price to be paid. How much do you say? As much as your heart desires for your true love.

Pairing: AHS! Michael Langdon x Reader

Genre: romance, angst, violence

Warnings: foul language, death of a character(s)

Note: This week’s episode is honestly the best because I really got tired of the whole apocalypse thing going on and needed more backstory. Let’s just say episode 4 was really the starting of this season’s episode. I can’t wait for next week. I just wish the whole season just drops in one go like Netflix does.

Word Count: 3566 words

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My turn finally came for the interview with Langdon. I didn’t know what to expect but I didn’t expect a lot from it either. My fate was already sealed from the very moment I was born. With heavy steps, my feet came to a halt in front of the large timbered black doors. Using my knuckles, I knocked against the door as I wait for someone to answer it.

Soon enough, the doors parted from each other, revealing the man in the room. “Y/N. You’re here. I’ve been expecting you.”

He steps aside, giving me enough space to enter the office. The entire room was a catastrophe, the furniture was thrown in every direction, the candles had fallen from the holders. It was like a hurricane had hit and cleared anything in its path.

“I apologize for the mess,” He brings up the armchair back to its normal position before gesturing to sit. “Please, take a seat.” Whatever thing that happened before, clearly didn’t bother him too much considering how calm his voice was although he looked lowkey frantic.

“I take it something happened before I got here?” He only smiles before setting up the other armchair, taking a seat right next to me. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw Mallory leaving the room with an expression I’ve never seen before. Distress was etched on her face and it was like she was running away from something that terrified her.” Mallory was nice, when she wasn’t around Coco, acting like a lovesick dog following around her and obeying her orders. It’s a pity, it would’ve been nice to get along with her.

Langdon squints his eyes as he tilts his head to one side, “Terrified her, you say? Are you suggesting I did that to her?”

“I didn’t say it was you,” I admitted. “There’s something strange about her, and the others too.” I fluttered my eyes towards him, “You think so too, right?” I sent him a knowing look. No one understands what I know, except him. I could feel it in my bones.

“Curious aren’t you, little one? Haven’t you heard curiosity killed the cat?” Soft chuckles escaped from my lips, surprising him.

“You’ve mistaken curiosity for seeking, Mr. Langdon. Being curious will lead you nowhere. But if you seek, it will lead you somewhere. The one who seeks will gain something in return, be it good………or evil.”

He stands up to walk towards his desk, leaning his bottom on the edge of it, with arms crossed. “And what is it you wish to seek? Answers, purpose, knowledge…...love?”

“Acceptance.” I put it simply. He starts to frown. I guess my answer to his question was too vague for him to understand. “Acceptance? Is it from someone or something? The world perhaps. I’ve known quite a few people with cases like you. They don’t feel like they belong anywhere.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m seeking to find acceptance…...from myself. I know it’s complicated for you to understand. You would think it’s because I hate myself or that I’ve never showed love towards myself but it’s neither of them. From the time I was born, I always felt like something was pulling me back and that I was born too fast that my soul was incomplete.

I’ve been searching for that part of me that needed to be filled my whole life. One time I went to see a doctor to check if I had heart problems because chest pains kept arising. They told me they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. It got worse over the years. I just wanted it to stop hurting so much.

Until one day, I tried to kill myself. I told myself if I stab my heart with a knife, all the pain would go away.” My eyes were closed the entire time, trying to remember every detail of that moment. I felt cool air hit against my lips, and when I fluttered my eyes open, I saw blue eyes staring right back at me. I didn’t realise how badly I was shaking until I saw his hands resting on both sides of my arms. I wanted to just flicked away his hand, but somehow, I enjoyed the comfort he was giving me.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to continue,” I gripped his upper arm and shook my head, cutting him off, “I’m fine, I’ll continue.”

“It was like something dark came over me, feeding me with negative thoughts and lies about the good. When I turned 13, the heart pain subdued slowly. It still hurt but not like before. I started getting dreams. The dreams had the same people but at different times and places.” I explained to him.

“These dreams, these people you see. Could you describe them for me?” He asked.

“There were two of them. A man and a woman. I guess they were lovers. At first, all the dreams were happy and full of love. There were times where I felt like I was prying in on their intimate moments, moments I shouldn’t be looking at. Their smiles to each other was of love and longing, their embrace was warm and endearing. The kiss…...was filled with passion……...and lust. The love was real and it felt so genuine. The dream would end with them proclaiming their love for each other. And that’s when I wake up.” I left out the parts where they made love. It was too awkward for me to talk about it, seeing as there was a man in my presence.

“You said ‘at first’. What happened next?” He chimes. I went back to sit on the armchair, probably tired from bending his knees in front of me.

“They started turning into nightmares. Except it kept replaying the same one over and over again. They took away their lives by burning each other together. I had to suffer watching their bodies get burnt and slowly turn into corpses. The nightmares stopped after I kept myself busy with part-time jobs. Everything was fine until, you know what happened.” He didn’t seem convince about my last statement. He grabbed a file, presuming it was mine, flipping over pages until he stops on the one he was finding.

“All of what you’ve said has been completely true. You’ve had a total of six foster parents. You ran away from home and took shelter under the care of a 62 year old man name Daemon Jacobs, who runs a fortune telling and witchcraft bookstore on the corner of 16 Walnut St. You never went to school. You work for him at the bookstore in the morning till afternoon and you start your night shift at the diner place down a few blocks from the bookstore.

Also, you failed to mention that you’re not exactly who you say you are……your date of birth and your age doesn’t add up.” He slams the file close. “Does the others know how old you truly are?”

“I was 16 right before the missiles attacked Los Angeles 18 months ago. My birth certificate clearly state I was born on ‘3 March 2003’. I glared at him.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. I can tell that you’re lying. Just be honest. It’s only you and me here.” He grins at me. He’s right. It’s useless to hide it from him when he has all the information he needs about me.

“I was born on ‘6 June 2016’.” I admitted, only to have him smile at me as he turns around with his back facing me.

“Odd. You would be only 5 years old now after 18 months.” He paused, “You’re wondering why you aged way too fast than the others, am I right? I might have the answer to your question.”

I stood up and walked over to him. “And how do you know about this?”

He brings his fingers towards me, cupping my chin in between his thumb and index finger. “Because, we might have something in common, my flower.”

My flower? I could have sworn I panicked a bit after hearing it out loud from someone other than my dreams. I brushed it away and focused on the man in front of me. He thinks he knows everything about me just because my whole life was in that file. Clearly, he was messing with the wrong person.

“What makes you think we have something in common? Sure, you know everything about me with that information of yours, you know everything about me on the outside, but not on the inside. Information and facts can be altered and fabricated with lies by anyone…… but if you want the truth…….all you have to do is ask, isn’t that right……Michael?” I smirk at him. His confident smile turned to a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“I’ve been truthful to you all this time……but not you. I know the whole reason you did all of this wasn’t because of your goal of just building a new world. You needed to prove a point to the others that you are powerful than them. It is your destiny, to put it simply.

But, there’s something stopping you. I know you, Michael. Only I know that you have a weakness, and this ‘apocalypse’ you put everyone through will you be able to find it.” He doesn’t want to admit it. His facade is way too strong to break down. This isn’t the Michael he was fond very talking about or maybe all he need is a little push.

“And what is……my weakness?” He growls deeply. Judging from his voice, he’s beginning to see me as a threat. Oh honey, I’m not the one you should be threatened by, yet.

“Her.”

Ms. Venable had called everyone for an emergency meeting. The aura in the library was solemn and the smell of death was lingering in the air. She had announced something about having a party after the hardships we went through over the past few months, and apologizing for her harsh punishments she had implemented in The Outpost. She said that a celebration is in need, camaraderie, and that it was a gesture of goodwill. A Halloween soiree.

As if that would lighten up my mood. I’ve never been a big fan or parties. Why now? Is it because she had a change of heart after her time with Langdon or she’s planning something without everyone knowing? It has to be the latter. She’s never really subtle about it, and she’s always keeping secrets for her own benefit. You’re going to need a lot of persuading if you want me to attend it.

The rest had already rushed back to their rooms to get ready their costumes for the party. Wasting my time was part of my daily routine as I settled on to a new book, grabbing it off from the bookcase as I returned back to my room.

Along the way, I had stumbled into something hard. I didn’t look at where I was going because the book was way too interesting than looking up. Standing in front of me was none other than the devil himself.

I lowered my head, apologising before walking pass him.

“Don’t go.” He spoke, causing me to stop in my tracks. “The party, don’t attend it.”

“Why not?” I asked him casually. I turned around to face him, and so did he. “I believe we didn’t get to complete your interview before we were interrupted by dinner time. I wish to continue it.”

“Ms. Venable will be suspicious of me if I don’t attend it. She’ll know if one of us isn’t there.” I told him.

“Then leave the party when you think it is safe without anyone knowing. Meet me in my room. They won’t find you there.” He suggested, and vanishes off the corner of the hallway.

Everyone was swaying to the music, dancing with excitement and having a great time. A pleasant feeling bloomed inside of me but it faded away when I gazed upon the wooden tub that was filled with fresh apples and apparently the only refreshments they had. Michael had warned me about the party so why wasn’t anyone feeling different about it. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Without anyone looking, I made my move.

Finding Michael’s room, I entered when he permitted me to go in. His room looked the same like mine did. He was sitting at his desk, typing away in a working laptop as thick files piled on his desk.

“So, what is it that you wish to continue? I’ll be honest with you. The Sanctuary is the least of my concern. The last place I want to be before I’m dead is what you call as being ‘classified’’. Who knows you’re just trying to rope people in for the wrong kind of things.” I sat at the edge of his bed, looking at my nails with a bored expression.

“Tell me, Y/N. Do you believe in reincarnations?” He asked, his voice was soft and laced with curiosity.

“I used to, but I don’t think people’s interpretations of them are facts. People mostly believe a soul moves on into another physical form once their life is over before being reborn into a new life. Some claim they see memories of their previous life, thinking that it’s theirs but I don’t think that’s highly true. Our appearance might have changed but I believe a soul is only admitted to one lifetime only and when the time comes for their judgement, they’ll either go to Heaven or Hell.

Maybe people do get to see memories of their previous life, thinking that it’s theirs but to me, that person in that memory was simply just another person that lived with the same soul. They had their own life and their own future. This is my soul now and this is my lifetime. No one else’s but mine only.

‘Eram quod es, eris quod sum’. I was what you are, you will be what I am. And when my time comes, I will be the same as them. Six feet down in my eternal resting place.” He had a twinkle in his eyes as he listens to me speak. He had been observing the way I illiterate the meaning of the word the way I see it.

“Fascinating,” He claims. “And what about soulmates, do you believe in them too?”

“I do, to a certain extent. But not in the way other people see it as. They romanticised it far too much, thinking that there is someone out there, with their souls tied together with the red string of fate. The ones who associate them to a romantic partner are the ones who are desperate for love and I think those who claimed to find their soulmates are simply pathetic.

They never travelled the entire country to look for them. They only assume the person they just met and fell in love with is their soulmate, in the same country, city, town or neighbourhood. They didn’t venture out to look for their true pair.” I gazed down at the floor. “Soulmates are just empty hopes and dreams for those who couldn’t find love.”

“And how do you perceive soulmates as?” He questioned.

“I see them as the person who will always be honest and truthful, the one I can share all my dark secrets and fears with. A person I can be comfortable around and will treat me with the same respect I show them. A person who shares the same believes and goals as I do. A person who can accept me……as I am. Intimate or not.” He reaches out his hand and cups both my cheeks in his palms. He was cold to the touch, giving my skin a cooling sensation.

“Do you think these dreams you have, are memories that belong to the person you share your soul with in the previous life? That woman in your dreams. Do you think it’s your memories too?”

“It could be. But I never said anything about it being my memories. I could have conjured them up from watching too much television. And I didn’t say anything about being the woman in those dreams.”

“Was the woman wearing a white Victorian dress, with her soft long curls cascading down her back, reaching her bottom?

“Almost all women wore like that back then. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“She had green eyes, long curly eyelashes. Her cheeks were blushed a light pink, her lips as red as cherry. And she had a locket around her neck. It was gold in colour. There is also an engraving on it as well. ‘L+L’. Inside the locket holds a picture of the man and the woman.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“Because I have those dreams too. You don’t think that is a coincidence, right? I had them all along. It was the only thing that soothe me to sleep and I look forward to it. I don’t look like the type who could love or show love to others, but I do. And maybe what you are actually seeking is not acceptance from yourself and what you need is what I can give you.” He looks me in the eye.

I stared at him back with the same look as his. “And what do I need?”

He smiles. “Me.”

He grabs on to my arms, pulling me up to my feet. “Hide in the wardrobe. Quickly, now.” He opened the door for me as I stepped inside. “Whatever you do, do not make a noise.” I nodded.

The room grew silent before I heard Michael speak, “Ladies, I’m a little busy right now formulating my selections.”

“This won’t take long.” The voice sounded like Ms. Venable.

“What’s this?”

“We’re making the selections now, Mr. Langdon. And I’m afraid you didn’t make the cut.” It only made the long-haired male chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “I wanted to let you have your moment but I just couldn’t hold it in.”

“You think this is funny?” Ms. Venable snaps back calmly. “I think I’m impressed, Ms. Venable. I wasn’t sure you had it in you. You’ve passed the test. You’re perfect for The Sanctuary.”

“Ms. Mead.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Mr. Langdon proclaims. There was a short pause before Ms. Venable spoke again.

“Ms. Mead.” Her tone was stricter now.

All of a sudden, a loud gun shot could be heard. I covered my mouth to muffled my gasp.

“I don’t know why I did that. I was always loyal to her.” The tone was mixed with emotions of sadness and disbelief.

“It’s alright,” he comforts, “You were obeying commands, like you’re programmed to do. My commands.” Footsteps grew closer towards me direction.

“Did you enjoy executing the poison apples plan as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?” He questioned Ms. Mead.

“You wanted everyone dead?” She asked, her voice shaky.

“I’ve never been a fan of getting my hands dirty. Learned that from my father. Always more fun to entice men and women to dirty needs. Confirms what I’ve always believed.”

“W-what do you believe?” Ms. Mead stuttered.

From the gap between the wardrobe doors, I could see him step closer towards her, “That all people, if given the right pressures and stimulus, are real evil motherfuckers.”

Ms. Mead didn’t know how to reply him, it sounded like she was confused. “I-I am having trouble with this. I know I’m just a machine.”

“Never say that!” His voice was laced with anger, his expression soured. “You’re not just a machine, not to me.” For a second, it felt like he actually cared and had actual feelings.

“When I tasked The Cooperative’s R&D Department to have you constructed, I gave them a prototype to model.”

“Prototype?” Of who?

“Of someone from my childhood. Someone very dear to me.” A prototype? No way. Ms. Mead is a…..a robot?

“The beautiful boy.” She replies him. He smiles, his eyes started getting teary as he nods in agreement. “That was me. But I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind.”

“Why?” She questions.

“To protect you, and the plan. But now it’s time to remember it all. I lost you and I couldn’t bear it. I can’t imagine a new world without you by my side. The only woman who ever really understood me.”

“Who ever really loved you.” Slowly, Michael embraces her in his arms. The sight was truly a rare thing to see, seeing as Michael was always look so cold and arrogant. He releases her from his embrace before walking towards the wardrobe.

The doors flew open and he offers me a hand. I slipped mine into his and he helped me get out the small space.

“Y/N, you were in there all this time? What are you doing in Langdon’s room?” She asked me. Suddenly she panicked. “Oh no, I could have killed you too. I’m so sorry, Mr. Langdon. I didn’t know who she was.”

“Who I was? You know me?” How could she know me if I’ve never seen her before, unless? I gazed towards Michael. He only shows me a mischievous grin. “I may or may not have told her about you. After all, I was the one who told The Cooperative to rescue you.”

Taglist: @ meeeeeeeeeps, @ habblez-the-babblez, @ snookabooforever

#michael langdon #michael #langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs #american horror story #ahs: apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #season 8 #ahs murder house #ahs coven #murder house #coven #the truth about love #leesundeul #cody fern #writings

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whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome · 6 years

Note

Ship meme: Wayne and Katy 5, 9, 10

ship headcanon meme from THIS POST (check it out if you haven’t already)

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

That depends on how you’re counting. Katy says the words, easy as breathing, has done since she could talk, no problem. It’s never a formality or a reflex, it’s 100% genuine every time she says it. Wayne only says it a handful of times, but he shows it every day, cooking and doing dishes together, planting her favourite flowers in the vegetable patch, carrying the basket of wet laundry for her so she can peg it out, bringing her coffee in bed for their traditional Sunday morning lie-in.

Once Katy told him she was thinking about keeping bees, to save them some money instead of hiring them every Spring for pollination. So he looks up plans and builds her some boxes the very next day. He calls around town to find a hive that someone wants shot of, and buys a secondhand but still-in-good-nick spinner and a beesuit and veil. It’s worth it, the splinters and stings and running around, all of it, when she pops the first bite of honeycomb into his mouth and smiles at him.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

This one’s tough, because they’re never really uncomfortable enough with each other that they get embarrassed.

The first time they get drunk, like, properly drunk, they’re in their study room, chilling on the secondhand loveseat they got from Uncle Eddie and Aunt Marian. They’re sixteen tomorrow, and consider themselves very grown up, capable of handling pretty much anything, including liquor. Their parents are the lax sort, so they’ve had a wee dram here and there, usually in tea, or warm milk with honey if they’re ill.

Tonight though, it’s the day before their birthday, they’re supervision-free, it’s the height of summer, and their parents are away on a date, so the twins decide to start their revels early. They nick the whiskey from the kitchen and make sure to load up on snacks to bring upstairs with them so they don’t have to chance sneaking back down to the kitchen after their parents get home. Very responsible, very forward-thinking; they’re totally nailing adulting. They’re not even going anywhere, so they can’t possibly get into too much trouble, right?

Wrong.

They’re getting quietly tanked, chirping an old episode of MST3K, and booze is as booze does, so Katy has to wee. She stands up to go, or rather, she tries to stand up. All the alcohol goes to her head all at once, and she immediately over-balances. The only thing that saves her from taking a header into the coffee table is Wayne throwing his arms around her and pulling her back into his lap. Concussion successfully avoided, yay, but the pressure around her middle only exacerbates her original problem.

‘Wayne, you gotta let me up, I gotta go.’ She pats his arm, tapping out.

‘You gonna be alright?’ Wayne seems sceptical, but releases her nonetheless. It’s not fair he sounds so much more sober than she feels.

‘I’ll be fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.’ To be honest, Katy’d expected being drunk to feel kinda similar to smoking pot, which she’s pretty used to by now. She stands up much more slowly this time, moving very deliberately, and makes her way to the washroom between the study and their bedroom. Her fingers refuse to cooperate with the pocket door and the button of her shorts, but she does eventually get things sorted before she gets too desperate.

While she’s sitting there, she decides to make things easier on her future self and change into pyjama shorts. She’s a genius, she’s handling this so well. The pocket door to the bedroom gives her just as much trouble as the one leading to the study. Rather than tempting Fate by attempting to stand on one leg, Katy sits on the bed to get changed. She’s just pulling her shorts up when Wayne chooses that moment to bang on the door.

‘Are you okay in there?’ he calls through the door.

‘I’m just putting on some pyjamas.’

Wayne sounds disgruntled. ‘It’s been twenty minutes. I thought maybe you’d fallen again.’

Awwwwwww. He was always looking out for her. Katy slides the door open and leans against the frame, smiling. ‘Were you worried about me?’

Wayne’s habitual squint is a bit uneven, so maybe he’s not as unaffected as she thought. Good to know. ‘I don’t wanna hafta explain to our parents that I’m suddenly an only child, no.’

Witty as ever. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to the sofa.’ Katy slides an arm around Wayne and they lean against each other as they walk a little unsteadily back to the loveseat. Once they’re settled back down, they keep absently nibbling their snacks and passing the whiskey back and forth. It gets late enough that they hear the truck coming up the laneway, and they share a moment of visceral, heart-stopping paranoia, like somehow their parents are gonna just know, via telepathy or some other Spooky Parent Power.

Normality reasserts itself when after a couple of minutes, there’s a complete lack of doors opening and shutting. Wayne barely leans out the window before he registers the slight sway of the truck, and for the sake of his sanity he launches himself backwards before he can see anything unfortunate, but he hadn’t counted on Katy being right behind him and he bowls them both over in his haste.

‘Oof,’ is all she says, staring up at the ceiling. A moment of silence passes between them before Wayne speaks.

“They’re gonna be in the truck a while.’

Another moment of silence while this works its way through Katy’s brain. ‘Oh my God,’ she moans, voice full of despair, ‘we have to ride in that truck!’ She rolls over next to him and buries her face in his shoulder. ‘I really, really wish you hadn’t’a said that.’

Wayne sighs, puts his arm around her shoulders, and pats her sympathetically. ‘Sorry, kiddo, but if I have to suffer, so do you.’

‘That is not covered under for better or for worse,’ she says, muffled.

‘Twins for life, honey. No getting divorced.’

Katy raises her head to look at him and digs her pointy little chin into his ribs extra hard, just ‘cos she can. ‘You’re a terrible person. I’m gonna trade you in.’

Wayne adopts the snootiest Customer Service voice he can muster. ‘I’m afraid the sixty-day return policy has lapsed.’ He grins. ‘You’re stuck with me.’

She hums, ‘Well, if that’s the case. I suppose you do have your uses.’ Katy snuggles closer and lays her head back down. ‘You’re pretty comfy, for a start.’

‘Oh, well. As long as I’m useful.’

‘Like a good piece of furniture. Decorative and sturdy.’

They giggle quietly until they hear the back door open and shut. There’s the sound of feet on the stairs, and then a quick tapping at the study door as their parents wish them goodnight in passing, and they warmly return the sentiment from their spot on the floor.

When they hear their parents’ door close, Katy whispers, ‘There’s one way to try and erase that image.’

Wayne nods. ‘That’s a Texas-sized 10-4.’

They relocate back to the sofa again, piling pillows on one end and stretching out across it as they resume passing the bottle back and forth. Eventually, the television switches over to a new programme, and by that time, their parents’ snores are echoing through the house. They’re both so relaxed it almost feels like a Sin, breaking the peace, but Katy’s had the most excellent idea and it would be rude and selfish if she didn’t share it.

‘Hey, Wayne,’ she queries.

His hand pauses petting her hair. ‘Katy Kat?’

‘Wanna go have a smoke on the roof?’

Oh, that’s class. ‘I’d have a dart.’

The biggest benefit to their room being on the complete opposite side of the house from their parents�� is that it’s practically soundproof. They don’t hear any night noises they don’t wanna hear, and they get easy access to the roof via the porch gable and the big window in the study. Wayne gets the gear from the sock drawer and they climb out on top of the porch, only a little wobbly. From there, Wayne hoists himself up onto the roof proper, then pulls Katy up after, and they settle in for a dart and a joint respectively. They’re flushed and warm from the drink, and the smokes go straight to their heads, leaving them dizzy and giggly; but the night air is bracing and helps cool them off.

They lay back together and point out all the constellations they can remember, then start making up new ones and giving them the most ridiculous backstories they can come up with. After about half an hour, the whiskey jacket wears off and Katy gets cold enough she wants to go inside. Getting down is a lot more of a challenge than getting up had been. Any other time they’d just jump for it, or else they’re sneaking out and shinning it down the tree, but those are both too noisy to be real options. They eventually work out that they have to sit down and then lower themselves in a weird sort of reverse pull-up type manoeuver. Or, well, Wayne has to lower himself and then lift Katy down. There’s a close call as she shifts her weight forward when he’s not expecting it, but they recover and no one falls or breaks anything, so they carefully climb back in the window.

Safely ensconced back on the couch, they’re in that space between drunk and sober where judgement has left the building, but you’re absolutely certain you’re making an unbiased, totally objective decision to have another drink. Killing the last third of the bottle seems like a brilliant idea. Things take a sharp nose-dive from that point. Where before they’d been slowly sipping at the whiskey, now they take gulps; after all, they’d handled it so far, right? The television plays softly in the background, but they’ve long since lost the plot. Whatever’s going on, it involves a robot, a Cat-man, an idiot, and some prick with an H on his forehead. Drunchies are no joke, and before they know it all the snacks have mysteriously disappeared and they’ve no memory of finishing them.

That was the tipping point, it seems, because the nausea comes on, creeping up like a thief in an alley, the heartburn and the churning bile and the spins, and oh fuck, the spins. Katy’s head feels tight like a migraine, but also weirdly floaty, like she’s too high. Wayne’s not doing much better himself, breathing slow and heavy and focussed on one spot on the ceiling to try and quell the urge to spit. If they’re very, very still, they might be able to power through this.

Luck is not on their side. Katy needs the bin, now. She turns to ask Wayne to grab it and-

A strangled ‘Wayne,’ is all the warning he gets before Katy hurls right in his lap. For a moment, he’s too stunned to do anything, but then she retches and does it again, and that’s what triggers his gag reflex, the sound and the smell and the warm liquid splash, and Wayne tosses his cookies even as he’s reaching for the rubbish bin. That sets Katy off again, and they’re caught in a vicious cycle of calling Huey until there’s nothing left in either of them to bring up.

They have to use every towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess, dry heaving the whole time, until it’s as good as they’re going to get it in the middle of the night. They rinse their mouths out and brush their teeth very gingerly, trying not to set off another round of gastrointestinal rebellion. Katy still feels hot and woozy and not a little gross, and she refuses to get in bed like this and mess up the nice, clean sheets. Wayne doesn’t exactly smell like a bed of roses either, so they sluice off and get into fresh, non-puky pyjamas. Katy’s head is clear enough by then that she has the foresight to make them both drink some goddamn water and take some aspirin before they get in bed.

The next morning is a special level of Hell, ‘cos it turns out their parents are totally on to them. Busted. As if being wretchedly hungover weren’t punishment enough, their parents make sure to be extra loud and unsympathetic to their misery. Birthday pancakes bring no joy, the smell of frying bacon is revolting, and the very idea of anything as acidic as orange juice has them both on the razor’s edge of being ill again.

Wayne and Katy Suffer through breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen after, until some buckets, brushes, and heavy-duty surface cleaner are shoved into their hands. They trudge upstairs and start scrubbing the puke out of the floorboards. Every part of the sofa needs to be cleaned as well; the cushions, the upholstery, the cover. Even the remote for the television. All of this on top of their regular chores leaves them shaky and exhausted by lunchtime.

The bollocking they get is definitely well-deserved, but neither of the twins has the strength to tolerate it. Wayne just crawls under the table and lays face-down and still, waiting for death, and Katy pillows her abominably sore head on her arms and tunes out until it’s over. They’re grounded for the foreseeable future, and just to make sure they don’t have any time to get into any more mischief, they’ll be doing chores over at Uncle Eddie’s as well as at home. The only pity they’re shown is a sleeve of dry crackers and some ginger beer to settle their bellies. The rest of the day is spent hauling bales and mucking stalls.

After dinner they go straight to bed, no shuckin’ and jivin’. They pinkie swear that next time, they’re gonna take about fifty percent off the whiskey and double down on the water. They grow up to be champion lushes, the pair of ‘em.

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Katy:

Music: House of Tom Bombadil by Nickel Creek, ‘cos Katy’s secretly a huge Nerd, and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri even though it’s so Basic White Girl, because no matter how cheesy, she genuinely loves it.

Books: The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett (her favourite since childhood,) and How to Invent Everything by Ryan North, a surprisingly useful survival guide.

Luxury Items: A tarpaulin, because Katy’s nothing if not Practical, and sunscreen for Wayne, ‘cos he’ll never think of it and he burns like paper.

Wayne:

Music: Wayne actually has the most rubbish taste in music. If he likes anything good, it’s purely by accident. He brings a cover of Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore as Gaeilge and Animals by Nickleback.

Books: Le Petit Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery. It’s his favourite, and it’s set in a desert, so. And since he knows every word off by heart in English and in French, to keep him engaged he’ll also bring Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence. Sure, it’s on-theme and all.

Luxury Items: A flint and a hammer hatchet. With these he can make simple tools, and with simple tools he can make complex tools, and with complex tools he can make anything.

(Edit: I only just now realised that perhaps this meant two total, as in one of each item for each of them, rather than they both bring two of each item. Oh, well. What’s done is done.)

#letterkenny #wayne #uaithne #katy kat #caitríona #Anonymous #original post #my writing #fanfiction #ask meme #ship headcanon meme #fanfic #fic

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