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eureka-roleplay · 2 years

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I learned that there’s beauty I can’t keep.

NURA SAYED-WILSON

Age: 32 Gender and pronouns: Female, She/Her Occupation: Psychologist Neighbourhood: Bayview

BIOGRAPHY

Born in New York to two people who had barely taken a moment to consider the implications of their marriage, let alone parenthood, it was hardly surprising that Nura’s childhood was uneven. Her mother’s pregnancy had come as an unplanned and unexpected surprise that her parents struggled to adjust to. Although they assured anyone who’d listen that the baby was far from unwanted but there was no denying that children hadn’t been on their radar. At least not when they were still within their first few months of marriage after being swept up in a whirlwind affair, children barely even featuring in their talks of the future. The couple had expected to enjoy a few years together before having to alter their dynamic to include a child - if they even wanted to change it at all. But they did change, out of necessity if not choice, and her mother adapted seemingly flawlessly to the role of mother and wife. Her father was a different story, struggling to adjust to the restrictions and changes to his life that being both a husband and a father meant. The pair settled in London to be closer to her father’s parents and the financial stability that they offered, as well as their ability to care for Nura and offer her the routine that her parents failed to provide. Neither parent seemed to wanted to take any responsibility in her upbringing and despite their attempts to focus on their marriage, the distance between them only grew. Her mother got tired of her husband neglecting her as well as his wandering eye and filed for divorce just before Nura’s third birthday.

From their her childhood was a patchwork of weekends split unevenly between her parents and staying with her grandparents on weeknights. Her parents schedules varied and Nura never really knew if she was coming or going. As soon as she was old enough her grandparents decided to send her to boarding school and it was there that she found some semblance of normality and stability. After that point most of her holidays were spent with her grandparents, her relationship with her parents reduced to phone calls, letters and gifts that they thought would make up for their absence. Unable to control her dynamic with her parents, Nura instead focused on her schoolwork and vowed to be nothing like them. She turned being selfless into an art, always the first to check in on her friends and schoolmates. A shoulder to cry on or the friend with the best advice to give. During her time at boarding school her mother found love again, getting married and moving to Eureka to seemingly start over with a new husband and step children. A short time later she reached out to Nura, intending to repair the fractured relationship with her daughter. At the time Nura wasn’t sure if it was guilt that motivated her or perhaps the encouragement of her new husband but she cautiously chose not to overanalyse it. Instead she let them reconcile, just glad to have her mother back in her life. Although her mother offered to move her out to Eureka too, Nura instead chose to remain at school in the UK and spend summers with her mother instead.

While her relationship with her mother began to improve her father remained distant. His political ambitions and goals didn’t leave much room for anyone else, least of all his daughter. But as she earned her place at her chosen university his calls started getting a little more frequent, his renewed interest in her conveniently coinciding with his run for parliament. After giving her mother the benefit of the doubt, Nura felt as though she had to extend the same courtesy to him and tentatively allowed him back into her life. The visits were still infrequent and on his terms but she couldn’t help but feel hopeful that he really was turning over a new leaf. Along with this fresh start with her father came an even bigger new chapter for her - university. A little daunted at first, she soon settled into her degree having chosen to study psychology out of both interest and encouragement from her friends. Things were much helped by the friends she made there, among them a medical student from a neighbouring flat. After meeting during freshers and spending a whole night talking, Nura and Jacob became fast friends and it would be a lie to say that she hadn’t felt more for him at that point. But with her so determined not to be reckless and follow in her parents footsteps, she was reluctant to rush into anything.

It wasn’t until her second year that they finally started dating and from there everything slowly began slipping into place. They talked about their futures, both prepared and committed to building a life together. Their relationship was full of support, encouragement and understanding with both of them only wanting the other to succeed and be happy. She had always quietly believed in herself but with Jacob’s belief in her she felt as though there was very little she couldn’t do. So with his support she took a year abroad in her third year, choosing San Francisco for the chance to be nearer to her mother. It didn’t take her long to make friends with the flatmates she’d found, feeling as though she’d made friends for life. The year flew by and before long she was headed back to London, vowing to keep up with the friends who’d become more like her family. Once back she fell back into the plan that she and Jacob had set on, the pair of them moving in together once she’d graduated. From there she continued in academics, gaining her Masters in psychology and her engagement came a month after that.

She had every intention of completing her PhD in London, staying with Jacob as he finished up his training, but as a safety net she’d applied to San Francisco again. Of course, she didn’t need it and got into her school of choice but after her father found himself embroiled in a scandal Nura wanted to be anywhere but London. It was only a brief time that she was implicated in it ( some journalist misinterpreting information and suggesting that she had known about it ) but it was long enough for her to feel uncomfortable in the city that had always been her home. For the first time in her life she felt like doing something selfish - to just up and leave to avoid the scrutiny that she was currently under. So without consulting her fiancé, she took the place in San Francisco, choosing to do her PhD half a world away from all their carefully laid plans. Nothing he said changed her mind and although her choice didn’t mean the immediate end of their relationship - they’d made long distance work before why couldn’t they do it again? - Nura made the decision for the both of them. Two weeks after arriving in San Francisco she ended the relationship, not knowing when she would return and it feeling unfair to keep Jacob holding on to something that might never happen.

Throwing herself into research, Nura sought comfort from her friends and family, filling her time anyway she could to distract from the decision that she’d made. After years of hard work she succeeded in earning her PhD and from there it was only a matter of time before she got her license. For a brief time she thought about returning to London but feeling as though there wasn’t anything still there for her years later and instead she opted for Eureka after finding an opening at a clinic there. She was closer to her family ( the parts that mattered ) and there was the added bonus of one of her closest friends also choosing to live there. A new life was built for herself, different from the one she imagined but no less fulfilling. Her spare time is spent between the array of plants that populate her home and Mad River Ranch, doing what she can to help the programme there.

NURA SAYED-WILSON has the face claim of AIYSHA HART and is played by JEN

#t #tf #bayview #aiysha hart

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

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hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187 @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose

(message/reply to this to be added or removed!!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #can't believe queue've done this

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superstarseijoh · 3 years

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REMEMBER | LEVI A.

lia's braindump: i've been thinking about this since i started liking levi and i only remembered to write it now! little eureka moment. the tenses here are pretty wonky i'm not very good at making them consistent >< anyway levi best boy!

when levi started dating you, he was unsure of how to do things as a partner. he knew well enough not to pretend like he was someone else; that was the whole reason you fell for him, anyway.

still, he cares deeply about you and he doesn't trust himself to not fuck up by not doing anything, so he tried something.

the something in question? a little pocketbook he now keeps in one of the lower drawers in his office, and it's just full of stuff about you he wants to remember:

y/n is really groggy in the morning, it wakes them up when the room is bright.

y/n tends to like soup more than bread. (they give their leftover bread to sasha.. the brat doesn't need more but they like seeing her smile so i'll give it to them)

y/n appreciates it when hange asks them about their day. (i should try this.)

y/n's favorite tea is mint. they buy their tea leaves on a corner stall from an old lady who always has fruit on one of her baskets.

they enjoy sitting on the flower field right beside the riverbank.

they prefer wiping more whenever they're on cleaning duty, because their nose gets irritated when sweeping.

it soon became a habit of his, scribbling random notes after finishing up work for the day. whenever he takes note of things while outside, he mentally reminds himself to write them down as soon as he gets back to his office. he'd settle in his chair, make sure no one was about to knock on his door anytime soon, and start logging little bits of information he deemed important.

at this point, he could rival moblit-- no, hange with his notes, and he's certain he'd be able to talk about you with such enthusiasm just like his friend would about titans. not that he would if anyone asked him to.

Is this getting out of hand? is it too much? he thinks as he flips through pages and pages of little fragments of your personality in a fleeting moment of boredom.

but the way your eyes light up in delight as you ask him "you remembered?" when he makes a subtle comment about one of the things he has on his notebook of your quirks one day tells him that no, it isn't.

he shrugs coolly as if it wasn't a big deal (it was), and he watches you chuckle while your ears flush a light pink. he feels the same heat creep up the apples of his cheeks, struggling to keep a straight face as he breaks a tiny, boyish smile.

levi arrives back in his office after dinner with the corners of his lips curled upward; his desk was occupied by merely a short stack of paperwork due the following week. recalling the little incident with you earlier, he decides he could delay working on it just a bit as he sits on his chair and his hands make a beeline to the lower drawer.

he pulls out his little pocketbook, flips it to the very first page, and starts writing on the top part as if it was a header: y/n likes it when i remember these things.

#aot #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi headcanons #aot x reader #aot headcanons #levi #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi scenario #best boy levi #lia's journal

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

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After that last Dutch request where his S/O pretends to be his wife, can you do one where he catches a female gang member skinny dipping and joins them? Maybe things get a bit steamy there (*wink wink*)?

But of course, darling! And check for the surprise at the end! 😉

((A.N: As always, the smut is under the cut 😘))

Silence.

All Dutch Van Der Linde requested was a bit of silence and a chance to work on his next big plan.

The camp needed more money.

They needed more time.

But each time Dutch attempted to slip away into his thoughts and found that eureka moment, the moment was ruined.

Heavy, drunken chatter outside of his tent as the gang passes by.

Music flooding in from the campfire that mingled terribly with Armas Järnefelt's "Ouverture Lyrique".

He stands with a huff, fingers rubbing at his temples as his eyes begin to strain on the map.

The sudden sing along to one of the many camp songs begins to grow irritating and soon he's going to the edge of the tent, about to call out and silence the flock.

But his hip bumps the gramophone playing the growing melody, the record scratching and creating a terrible noise that sends his fist to clench and hands to shake.

He exits in a hurry, needing to calm his growing anger.

It wouldn't help his plans a single bit if he let all this anger out on those who were just trying to enjoy their time while they can.

You never know when a Pinkerton will decide to come along and fuck everyone over.

His steps carry him out to the woods, sigh leaving his lips when silence finally takes over the area.

He leans against a nearby tree, cigar taken from his vest and match settled between his fingers.

As the match is struck, he hears it. The shift of water and the splash as someone swims about.

He searched with his gaze until meeting just who was intruding on his time.

You, rising from the water in all your glistening glory.

Hair flipped to be out of your face.

Breast highlighted by moonlight.

The cigar tucked between his lips nearly slips out, clinging to the dry skin and sticking there, mouth agape at the form he had yet to see before.

Perfection.

You were absolute perfection.

He catches the cigar before it hits the ground, a grin forming on his lips as he lights it and approaches the waters edge.

"So, seems someone isn't celebratin' with the rest and decided on a midnight swim." He takes a long drag of the cigar, smirk forming when he sees you whip around in shock at him.

The color rising to your cheeks as you duck your body under the water, hiding as much exposed skin as possible.

The way you tried to avoid his gaze as best as possible.

"How rude of ya to not extend an invitation m'way, Ms. (Last name)." He blows the smoke out, giving a light lick to his lips to prevent the cancer stick from sticking to them. "I would have loved a dip in them warm waters."

When your gaze finally comes back up to meet his own, he's not looking away from you.

A smug look rested on his features, cigar returned back between his lips and a twinkle to his gaze as he watched you.

"Well, Mr. Van Der Linde, I suppose an invitation is better late than never receivin' one." Your form relaxed a bit as you swam backwards, breast peeking almost teasingly above the waters. "Care t'join me?"

He pauses, taking a final drag before snuffing out the stick on the closest rock he could find and tossing it aside.

"I thought you'd never ask, sweetheart." He sends a grin your way, stealing a quick glance around the area before he begins undressing himself.

It's almost like a show put on for a one person audience.

His vest taken off with skilled fingers, the buttons of the crisp white shirt beneath following oh so slowly.

Inch after inch of skin revealed and hair begins to show on his chest.

He's grinning at your locked gaze, savoring the expression and color that begins to come as the shirt is thrown away and belt soon to follow.

Guns set aside, polished shoes toed off and soon enough he's down to just his drawers, or lack thereof.

Nude to the night and to the captivated gaze, he tossed his hat to the pile of clothing and finally entered the luke warm waters of the spring time.

"Now tell me, Ms. (Last name), just why are y'out here all by y'self? Just anyone can see your," He pauses, as if adding a dramatic effect when he sucks in a breath of an appreciative nature, "stunnin' physique."

His body shifted closer in the waters, nearly against your own as his brown eyes locked with your (eye color) eyes.

"Perhaps you're of the adventurous sort. Wantin' to be seen." He shifted so his nose nearly brushed yours. "Wantin' to be caught."

"Maybe I did want to b'caught."

Your reply both surprised and excited him.

You, the rough and tumble girl who can gun down a group of men or get them drunk enough to rob them blind, being the exhibitionist out of the gang.

It fascinated him, but it also left him aching at the idea of what else could happen tonight.

A shiver traveled up his spine when your body was fully against his, the breast he had seen before that nearly made him lose his cigar against his chest and breathing steadily.

Up, down, up, down. You were as calm as the waters that you both floated in.

You were the picture of beauty that captivated him like the best view money could buy.

He couldn't buy you. He couldn't own you.

There was no need to do so, nor did he seek the idea of a monetary possessiveness to you.

You were no working girl, you were simply one of the best goddamn members of the Van Der Linde gang.

Your lips just barely had a chance to brush his own before he was pulling away, body dunking under the water and leaving you to float and wait for him to resurface.

"Really, Dutch?" Your voice called softly, body shifting in the water as you attempt to look for the man in the darkened waters that only sparkled on the surface with moonlight. "I swear if y'pop up and try t'scare me."

Silence. You began to worry.

Then a set of arms wrapped around your middle and you're being dragged to the shore.

The noise of startle that comes into the air when he's pulling you has him reeling, chuckling as a slap to his chest is delivered when he can finally feel the lake's floor beneath his feet.

The way you glared at him in a weakened hatred and his own playful gaze in turn setting the mood.

He was in it to play now.

"Y'bastard!" Your voice came out shrill, contrasted by the deep rumble of his chuckle when you pushed away from his arms.

"I thought a woman like y'self doesn't scare easily." He teased, hair sticking to his face, the pomade washed away and leaving his longer locks to show their true length.

A low, almost feral growl, leaves his throat when your fingers take hold of the damp locks, gaze growing dark and hungry when your hushed tone arises from somewhere deep within you.

"I don't, Van Der Linde." There was a bite, as if reaffirming that you weren't some weak woman he could do as he pleased with.

In a way, he understood from your personality alone that you were a woman that should be reckoned with.

He's seen your skill, your talents as a thief and gunslinger.

If he didn't know you, and didn't know you were capable of a softer side, he'd be scared shitless.

He just wasn't a stranger to you.

"I don't believe you understand what you're startin' here, Ms. (Last name)." His rumble and tone alone had your core aching, needy for the man who threatened unlike anyone else.

It wasn't a threat of death, or of using your womanhood against you.

No, this was a threat to be far rougher than he had intended when moving into the waters with you.

He was going to play nice, be fair, but now as you give his hair a tug and press your form closer to his own, that control was lost.

"Oh, I know where this is gon'take me." Your lips press against his own when you tug his head to your own, firm hands coming to gather your hips and bring your legs to wrap around his waist.

He's quick, breaking from the grasp and alluring lips that pressed oh so hungrily to his own and replacing the absence with the flesh of your neck.

Rough nips and harsh suckles litter your flesh in growing shades of reds and browns.

His breath came out in harsh puffs when his lips got to your breast, a nipple taken between his lips and lavished with the same treatment your neck had been littered with.

A couple steps back and he's landing on the water's edge, rolling your bodies so his looms over your own.

His gaze met your own, the noises leaving your lips sending his body into a frenzy of heat and arousal.

Dutch wanted to hear your voice, even at the risk of someone coming out to see just what that noise in the distance was.

It excited him to no end.

His upper half stayed braced on his forearms as his lips did the talking, suckling at the perky bud that ached when his teeth ever so slowly dragged.

How your chest raised and fell with each quickening breath and the tremble of your form when his mustache grazed the sensitive skin with each lingering peck.

When your hands began to trace his form, moving from his hair down to his chest in a selfish drag, he couldn't help the appreciative noise that left his throat.

Nor the throb of his cock that rested oh so nicely against your inner thigh, able to be placed wherever it needed to go at a moment's notice.

He gets a firm grip on your hip with a single strong hand, bringing you flush against his member, the length slipping between your folds and getting slickened by the wetness growing there.

"That's it, sweetheart." He purred out into the air, groaning when your hips jut up in an attempt to get him inside.

His hand gives a swift smack to your rear from the side, a noise leaving your lips that earns a smirk.

"I told ya you're startin' somethin' ya don't wan'be startin'." He gave a hard trust, cock grazing your clit deliciously. "Keep pullin' stunts like that and I may just leave ya wantin', and I don't think y'want that now, do ya sweetheart?"

He watched as you glared at him.

As the color rises on your cheeks.

"No." You reply in a quick, almost frustrated quip.

"No what?" He wanted a rise out of you, a chuckle leaving his lips when your eyes roll and you bite at that delicious bottom lip of yours.

He would love to kiss on them for as long as possible if he could.

But sadly your time was limited together.

He just had to make it worth it, and he was gonna try his best.

"No," He watched your pause, how you worried your lip further in an internal fight of dominance and submission, "sir."

He smirked, a lick to wetten his lips following as he moved them to rest close against your ear.

"Good girl." His hips push forward finally, sinking down within your hot cavern.

He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out, hips flush against your own and teeth delivering a soft nip to the lobe of your ear.

He sets a steady pace, wasting no time with that slow shit.

Every second passing is another that someone from camp could come out and see the activities transpiring.

Every sound could be a cause for concern to drunken ears and demand investigation.

He needed to get his satisfaction, but also deliver your own.

He adjusted the legs around his hips so they're higher up on his body, the angle changing and causing your head to throw back with a steady moan.

Each noise had his breathing picking up and body heating further in the night.

With a hand abandoning your hip and now taking a breast in hand, he fucks into you not like a lover but as a man who had fucking in mind.

It was stress relief.

It was a moment of clarity.

He was like a great Greek artist venting his troubles into his latest muse and using it until the picture was finally put together.

Fucking you would help him leave the troubles of the night behind.

Fucking you may help blossom the inspriation for a new plan.

But above all, fucking you meant he gets to see that beauty of a face controting in pleasure because of him.

He needed you just as badly as your body needed him.

Dutch is surprised when your arms loop around his neck and nails dig into his scalp, bringing him into a bruising kiss as he fucks into you like a desperate man needing release.

He's quickening each time your walls tighten, that spot within you receiving every brush that goes by.

His whole body is going into it, abdomen flexing with each pump inside of your tightening core.

"S-Sir, I'm gonna-" You started, a kiss given to your lips to silence you before he's sitting up and returning his hands to your hips once more.

"Go ahead, sweetheart, let that wave hit ya." He purred, knuckles going into a white grip as he fucked into you.

Your orgasm hits you hard, walls tight around him and a string of curses falling between you two in increasing volume.

He pulls himself out, hand pumping his cock steadily until he's decorating you with his seed.

A groan leaves his lips when he leans back on his legs, taking a few breaths to steady himself.

Then the color drains from your collective features when a voice comes from the woods.

"Dutch? (First name)?"

A glance is shared between you both as you try to get out of the orgasmic bliss and scramble for the water.

Just because he gained excitement from the IDEA of being caught, didn't mean he wanted to test his luck.

He looks up as quickly as a deer hearing a gunshot when a branch is broken close by, meeting the concerned blue gaze of his son.

Arthur paused when he saw the scene, seeing the two nude bodies trying to get into the waters and stand there with widened gazes.

Then he laughs, a deep belly laugh that carried out among the woods.

"So that's where y'all slipped off ta!" His laughter is booming, making your cheeks heat and Dutch release a frustrated groan.

You two would never live this one down

RDR2 TAG LIST:

@lise-soontobemarried | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling

#dutch van der line x reader #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ns/fw hc #ns/fw ask #lovely anon #thank you anon #anon ask

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esmealux · 3 years

Note

Could you do 31 and 23 for the prompts?

I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you! <3

This got a lot longer (1.8K) and a lot angstier than I intended. But fret not, it's hurt/comfort at its core and it's Deckerstar stargazing. And also,

ANTI-SPOILER ALERT: This piece takes place after 5a/during 5b. I have not watched the trailer, nor will I. I therefore have no idea what is going to happen in 5b, or if what this fic suggests is remotely close to what is hinted at in the trailer—and I would like remain oblivious. *Looks at you with puppy eyes* So please don't mention anything from the trailer in the comments? It would mean a lot to me ❤ (And yes, I do realise I could've waited two days before posting this, but I wanted to give you guys a little something while you wait.)

Rated M, just to be safe.

Enjoy, my loves!

31. Lost in the middle of nowhere + 23. ‘Hey, at least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

He gets in his car, and he drives.

He has no destination in mind, nowhere but ‘away’. Away from Him. From feelings he can’t contain. From eons of neglect. From pain.

Far away.

He drives till there’s no more gas and ends up stranded where the streets have no name, in the moonlit desert.

The car shudders and comes to a halt. With ridiculously shaky hands, Lucifer brings a cigarette and a lighter to his lips, desperately needing the distraction. He flicks the lighter repeatedly, chaotically, but the fire won’t bite, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating, and both cig and lighter are sent flying through the brisk night air.

He roars into the dark void of the night. The thunderous sound resonating off the distant mountain walls startles him like an unexpected ghost. It sounds like him, but not like him. Not like Lucifer, Devil, fallen angel. It sounds like Samael, falling angel—screaming into the abyss as he plummets towards fire and brimstone, his fate and punishment, dealt by Dad.

Lucifer suddenly can’t get out of the car fast enough. He leans against the trunk, his chest heaving rapidly, his lungs fighting for air. He’d thought he was healing, that he was actually starting to put millennia of trauma behind him. And maybe he was. But then He waltzed down and ripped the wound right open.

Such a pestilent, tyrannous prick.

Lucifer needs a drink.

He finds a bottle of something strong and amber in the glove box and brings it back to the trunk. It’s only half-full, and he’d need at least five more bottles to just get tipsy, but it’ll have to do. He wasn’t looking to get shitfaced, anyway. He just wants to take his mind off things, to breathe. And right now, (now that his chance of having a smoke is lying somewhere in the sand) a couple of sips from a mildly exquisite whiskey and the ensuant burn in his throat are the best way to do that.

She finds him like that—because of course she finds him—sitting on the trunk of his car with the near-empty bottle in his hand and looking absolutely wrecked.

She’s tentative as she approaches him, afraid she’s not welcome, that he really did want to be alone. But as she gets close and he looks up at her, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight, she knows being alone is the last thing he needs.

Without a word, neither from her nor from him, she gets up on back of the car and scoots close to him, still keeping some air between them.

‘I thought you could use a friend,’ she says with a slight smile, exactly like she did all those years ago. Now, however, the last word isn’t an overwhelming, meaningful declaration, but a cosmic understatement, and Lucifer can’t help but snort.

Reaching over, Chloe grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. ‘Also, I wasn’t gonna let my partner get lost in the middle of nowhere alone.’

‘I’m not lost,’ he objects, but his voice, hollow and lined with despair, betrays him. He may know the way back to LA, but he is definitely lost.

Sensing he doesn't want to talk about it, Chloe gestures towards the bottle still dangling from his fingers and asks for a sip. His lips tug up into the smallest of smirks as he hands over the bottle with a half-hearted ‘Be my guest’.

She leans her head back, eyes turning to the night sky as she takes a swig (just a nip; one of them still has to drive home at some point). It tastes like evening kisses. Occassionally, morning kisses too.

A cool breeze whirls around them, and Chloe snuggles closer to Lucifer. She does have a plaid in the car, and she will get it in a minute, but right now, she settles for stealing some body heat, hoping her seatmate doesn’t mind too much. She hands him back the bottle and snakes a hand under his layers, up his bare back. He sighs shakily, the taut muscles beneath Chloe’s hand loosening up. It tugs at something in her chest—the way he’s calmed by her touch alone.

Chloe looks up again, at the tiny, abundant jewels glimmering against the dark sky. ‘At least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

In the middle of downing the last drops of whiskey, Lucifer absent-mindedly replies with a ‘Hm?’

‘Stars,’ Chloe repeats. ‘They’re beautiful.’

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer lets his eyes glide up. He’s quiet as he takes it in, the black canopy adorned with white, pearlescent specks. His gaze is somewhat distant, reminiscent. Wistful.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, not as a vocative, but as an eureka. She’s said his name so many times before, screamed it, whispered it, cried it—with passion and pain and everything in between—but now is the first time she says it actually knowing what it means. Or at least she’s pretty sure she does.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asks him with a whisper, more in awe than accusatory, and the soft, melancholic smile he gives her is answer enough. ‘You let there be light.’ It’s not a question this time, just an overwhelming realisation spoken out loud.

‘Well, technically,’ Lucifer corrects, glancing over at her, ‘it was Dad who created Light.’ His gaze turns upwards again, eyes suddenly twinkling with pride. ‘The almighty wanker was just too lazy to hang it up there himself.’

Stunned, Chloe stares at the sky with new reverence. It’s breath-taking, both the sight itself—diamonds and sparkling dust sprinkled across a sea of nothing—and the fact that Lucifer made that. He literally hung the stars in the sky.

The fact that he hasn’t mentioned this before, that he hasn’t boasted about it, hasn’t proudly told everyone he’s the artist behind the original Starry Night also says something.

Peering up at him from where her head is now resting against his shoulder, Chloe sees a look on his face she can only describe as ‘homesick’.

‘They remind you of your dad’s love for you,’ she realises, voice quiet.

Lucifer scoffs, but there’s no humour in it. Just pain. ‘What love?’

Chloe doesn’t blame him for doubting. With all the light God (apparently) gave Lucifer, He gave him a thousand times more darkness. (And she is going to talk to Him about that. Later. When she’s hugged the living shit out of His son). But Chloe can tell He, despite everything, does love Lucifer—and that Lucifer is using this resentment towards Him to avoid facing the fact that he, still, loathes himself just as much. If not more.

The thought makes Chloe sick, and she suddenly feels the need to tell him, ‘You’re worthy, you know?’

He looks down at her. A wet streak on his cheek catches the silvery light of the moon. ‘I do?’ The insecurity in his voice is a sharp jab in her chest. But again, she doesn’t blame him.

‘You are,’ she states again for emphasis, holding his gaze. ‘You’re worthy of love, and light.’ With her free hand, the one that isn’t stroking the small of his back beneath his shirt and jacket, she cups his face and swipes her thumb across his stubble. ‘You deserve it. You deserve happiness, more than any other person in this world.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t have to. The smile he gives her in return, warming and breaking her heart at the same time, speaks for itself. Just to get her point across, she leans up and kisses him. It’s teary and tender, and it’s a promise. To always love him—both the light and the dark, and all the colours in between.

They lean their foreheads against each other’s when they break apart, eyes still closed.

After a long, needed moment, Chloe lets her hand drop from Lucifer’s cheek to his thigh.

‘So,’ she breathes, the pall from their prior conversation vanishing into the night with her light, playful tone, ‘constellations?’

He chuckles beside her, the sound low and warm in her ear. ‘Not what you humans make them out to be.’

She fights the urge to roll her eyes at his ‘you humans’, and asks, intrigued, ‘No Big Dipper?’

‘No.’ He clicks his tongue. 'But there is a Big Pecker somewhere.’

She glares at him. ‘You drew a dick in the sky?’

His lips spread into a proud grin. ‘And a pair of boobs, if you have a little imagination.’ He points to a distant spot above them. ‘Those seven points there, the brighter ones—they form a symbol in my mother tongue. A message for my dear twin.’

‘Oh?’ Lucifer rarely ever speaks of, much less in the celestial language. It’s another part of his past Chloe hasn’t learned much about. But hopefully, over time, she will.

‘Yes, it means… how would you say?’ He thinks for a second—or pretends to—and eventually concludes, ‘Cunt, I believe, would be the appropriate translation.’

This time, Chloe doesn’t resist rolling her eyes—because nothing about that is ‘appropriate’. Maybe except for the fact that it was directed at Michael.

‘I know,’ he says, like he’s reading her mind. But he really isn’t, because he follows up with, ‘An insult to the temple of pleasure I value more than any other organ.’

Having met the guy, Chloe doesn’t disagree; Michael definitely lives up to more vile name-calling than ‘cunt’. (Also, she's pretty sure Lucifer is wrong about it being his favourite body part. She’s pretty sure the organ he values more than any other is his own Big Pecker, because she’s seen the way he looks at himself in the shower, and all the other places she finds him naked; the vain idiot is practically obsessed with his own meat. Not that she blames him.) But before she has the chance to tell him that, he says-

‘You have to forgive me. I was only a couple of thousand years old.’ There’s a glint in his eye, and Chloe can’t help but laugh, because it’s true what Linda said; he really is the oldest, most immature person in the world.

Chloe tells him as much.

He simply smirks in return. ‘I may be old, Detective, but I’m more vigorous in bed than any mortal man, old or young, and you know it.’

It only proves her point, about him being immature, and obsessed with his penis. But frankly, Chloe does know it, and for once, she feels like stroking his ego (among other things). So she grabs him by the hand, leads him into the car, onto plush leather, onto her, and as the stars twinkle and gleam above them, they put that vigour of his to good use.

#deckerstar fanfiction #writing #two part drabble game #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #lucifer x chloe #chloe x lucifer #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer on netflix #angst #hurt comfort #deckerstar #lucifer makes stars #post 5a #during 5b

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

My mama is the best man in the universe...

For the lovely @marilynmonroefanfics 😍😍👄💕💕

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Mentions of murder

"I swear to God that this case is gonna make me crazy!"

"Please, Detective, don't call out my father!"

Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed: currently, she and Lucifer worked on a murder case.

The victims, all members of a scientific research group, were burned to death, but it looked like the burning came from inside the bodies. An element that puzzles the detective, who sighed in defeat:

"Okay, so... What do you think about this case?"

"Mmmh... For sure, a mere human cannot do that. Unless he would be able to force his victims to swallow some combustible, strike a match, and... Burn baby, burn!"

"Very funny, Lucifer!"

"Pleasure's mine, dear Chloe!" retorted the demon with a seductive wink.

The detective rolled her eyes but can't help smiling at his antics: she knew he was only trying to light up her mood.

She reported her attention to the investigation file and said:

"According to our dear Ella, not a single trace of fuel was found in the victims' bodies. But how the killer can burn his victims to death?"

"Do you know what it means?"

"I'm afraid that we are dealing with a new case of a supernatural arsonist creature!" sighed the woman.

"I'm sorry to tell you that, but you're right!" answered the Devil with a comforting pat on her shoulder.

"After what I've seen before, nothing could surprise me anymore!"

"Well, you got the point!"

"Do you have an idea which creature can do that?"

Lucifer frowned, puzzled.

"It might be surprising, but this time, I don't know who can be the potential guilty!"

"I wish I know someone who can help us because this case is getting on my nerves!"

The fallen angel cogitated a long time before he exclaimed:

"Eureka! I know someone who can help us!"

"Really? Thank you! But who is this person?"

"Of course, my Mama!"

When she heard those words, Chloe quivered:

"What? You want to call your mother? After all the mess she did with you? She badly hurt you, remember..."

Lucifer bit his lip:

"Well, I was not talking about my birth mother. I explain myself. You see, Chloe, after my parents get separated, our mother rejected us. My siblings and I were raised by another person. He made my old man happy, and he treated us as if we were his own children."

The demon fondly smiled.

"He is very dear to me..."

"I can see it... Wait a minute: you said "he" are you sure you did not make a mistake?"

"No, you heard well: I was raised by two men!"

"Wait for a second... Do you just say that God is gay?"

"Bisexual would be more appropriate!"

Chloe shrugged.

"Well, after all I've been through since we met, I think that's not a big deal. Besides, if you say that your dad can help us, it suits me!"

She noticed how Lucifer seemed more relaxed after her statement.

"I'm happy to see that you're always open-minded!"

"You're welcome. Now, call your dad! We have a case to solve!"

"At your orders!" smirked the demon as he dialed the man who raised him.

Later, at Lucifer's penthouse.

Sitting on the comfortable couch, Chloe and Trixie watched with amusement Lucifer running around his penthouse, checking every room. Mazikeen, desperate by her boss's behavior, shook her head.

"Right, I put the whiskey on the table, and his favorite meals are here too... Where do I put the cake?"

"In the fridge, Lucifer!" answered Trixie, who chuckled.

"Ah yes: it is there!"

"Come on, Lucifer: it's your dad, not the Pope!" gently joked Chloe.

"I don't appreciate the mockery, Detective Decker!" growled Lucifer as he checked himself in the mirror.

"Don't take it personally, Chloe: he always gets stressed when it comes to his other father! He wants to be a good son with him," reassured Mazikeen.

"You know his other father?" asked the blonde woman.

"Indeed, yes. Lucifer's father number two is Petraeus, or Peter if you want, and he is a powerful being!"

"He is God's companion, so I think he might be as powerful as Him!"

"You're right. But I'm sure you're going to appreciate Petraeus. He is a brilliant man, you know. He is also smart and absolutely charming!"

"Well, I trust you."

"You can: he is more approachable than God!"

Suddenly, they heard a knock on the door. Lucifer stopped walking and muttered:

"Oh, hell! It's him!"

"Stop being alarmed: it's just your father! You know what? I'll open the door before you freak out in front of your dad!" smirked Mazi, who got up and walked at the door.

She opened the door and saw a dark-haired man with black eyes and fair skin. Dressed in an elegant white suit, the man smiled:

"Good evening, Mazikeen. It's been a long time."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Master Petraeus."

"Don't be so formal! You can call me Peter, you know?"

"Sorry, a force of habit. But please, come in!"

Petraeus stepped in and said:

"Good evening, everyone!"

Lucifer rushed towards his father with open arms:

"Good evening, Papa!"

"My sweet demon!" beamed Petraeus as he held his son close to him.

Chloe smiled at the sight of her lover: she never saw Lucifer acting like that with other members of his holy family. He appeared to be close to his father.

Meanwhile, Petraeus stepped aside and looked at his son:

"Look at you, boy: handsome as always!"

"I had a good teacher!"

"Don't be so flattering!"

He glanced at Chloe and Trixie with a charming smile.

"Are these beautiful ladies the famous Chloe and Trixie you told me about?"

"Yes, of course: Papa, this is Detective Chloe Decker and her daughter, Beatriz Espinoza, aka Trixie!"

"Please to meet you, Sir Petraeus!" smiled Chloe as she shook hands with the guest.

"The pleasure is mine, dear Chloe. And don't worry: you can call me Peter!"

"If you allow me..." smirked Chloe.

Trixie jumped on her feet and held out her hand with a wide grin on her face.

"Hello, Peter! I'm Trixie! Please to meet you!"

"What a lively young lady! Nice to meet you too!" laughed Peter.

After he finished his greetings, he looked at the place with impressed eyes.

"You find yourself a comfortable place to live, my dear son. I see you accommodate it at your image!"

"Listen, if the Old Man made Earth at his image, why can't I do the same with my house?"

"Cheeky as always, aren't you?" grinned Peter.

"You know Papa: I've always been the rebellious one among your children!"

"I have noticed..."

The celestial spirit stopped himself as he remarked the table set with chic crockery and delicious courses.

"Oh, Lucifer: you should not have! It was not necessary to turn your dining room into Versailles' Hall of Mirrors!"

"Only the best for you, Papa: come on, sit down! Dinner's ready!"

The evening went smooth, and Chloe admitted that Mazikeen was utterly right about Peter. He was not only good-looking and kind but also intellectual - without being conceited. He had so many stories about historical figures to tell, which amazed Trixie.

"So you met all those people? That's soooo cool!" happily squealed the young girl.

"I'm glad that you liked my anecdotes, Trixie. You know that some of them were Lucifer's bedtime stories when he was your age?"

"Oh no, Dad!" groaned Lucifer, flustered.

"What? There is nothing to be ashamed of, sweets!"

Chloe grinned as she saw her boyfriend confused by some childhood memories. But she discerned in his eyes all the adoration and filial love he had for Petraeus, and she could swear he never looked at God like this...

Time went by, and it was past midnight when Trixie had to go to bed after she nearly fell asleep on the table. Once the young girl settled in a bedroom, the adults talked about the case:

"So, my dear son, you need my help if I understand well?"

"Yes. Chloe and I are working on a difficult case, and we think your knowledge would be valuable!"

"Alright, tell me more about this problem!"

"Everything we've found so far is in this folder!" explained Chloe as she handed a file to Peter.

Petraeus opened it and was taken aback by the horrendous pictures of burned bodies.

"Oh, dear! What a frightful view!"

"Yes, I agree. All the victims belonged to a scientific research group, and they were burnt to death."

"I see it. But what makes you think that you need my help?"

"Well, Papa, this is where the mystery begins. The coroner confirmed that the burn comes from the inside of the bodies. But there is not a trace of fuel! So, we come to the conclusion that a creature killed those people!"

Peter nodded.

"I understand now... Well, from what I can see, it looks like an igniting spell, which implies that the unsub is a fire-element being. However, I cannot determine if it belongs to Biblical, Coranic, Jewish, Buddhist, or pagan mythology."

"If you want, you can accompany us to the Police Department tomorrow. I'm sure Ella, our dear coroner, would accept to show us the three last victims!"

"Thank you for your kind invitation, Chloe. It's a good idea!"

The young woman thanked him before yawning:

"Sorry if I seem impolite, but I have to leave you. This day was a complete mess, and I need to sleep... And I'm sure you had a lot of time to catch up!"

"Go ahead, I'll join you later!" smiled Lucifer.

"Okay. Good night, Peter!"

"Have a nice night!" answered the celestial spirit.

As the detective left the dining room, Peter turned to his son and said:

"She is really exquisite, Lucifer! You rightly choose your soulmate!"

"Well, I must admit it: I'm lucky that she accepted me in her life. Chloe is the most amazing woman I ever met!"

Peter tenderly smiled at Lucifer:

"Seeing you so happy is a blessing for me! I was so worried that your banishment would put you down..."

The fallen angel saw a spark of sadness clouding his Papa's eyes.

"Papa, are you alright?"

"Sorry, it's just that... I feel so terrible not being able to visit you on Earth. But your father did not allow me to do so..."

He sadly sighed

"You had no idea how many times we argued about it. I told him that his punishment was above cruelty, and he did not even try to understand why you stood up against his authority!"

"I figure that he told you that you were too kind with me!"

"You know him well... Of course, I cannot disobey him, so I did not come visiting you either in Hell or Earth. But I send you some signs from me... just to tell you that you're not alone, and I'll always love you, no matter what happens!"

Touched by his father's sadness, the demon reached his father's hand and gently held it.

"Papa, I already knew it. You don't have to feel guilty: nothing is your fault. I knew about your messages: I kept them in a small box, and when I feel distressed, I read them, and it cheers me up. You always cared about my siblings and me more than our mother. I'll always be grateful to have you as my Papa."

Relief spread through Peter as he smiled:

"Thank you, son."

Lucifer glanced at the clock and stated:

"Well, time runs fast, and you maybe want to get some rest..."

"Good idea: all those emotions dried me out."

The King of Hell led his dad to the guest room.

"Here's your bed for the night! You have your own bathroom on the right with all the comfort!"

"I'll manage for tonight... Thank you, Lucifer!"

"You're welcome, dad. Good night!"

Peter leaned close to his son and kissed his forehead:

"Good night, my little demon!"

As he came back to his bedroom, Lucifer felt his heart happily swelling. He ached for the love of his parents for a long time, and he was more than happy to meet his Papa again.

Lucifer and his siblings were forever grateful to Petraeus for bringing joy back in their Holy Father's heart and loving them as his own offspring.

When he laid down next to Chloe, who was already asleep, the demon felt like his life on Earth was kind of complete...

The following day.

After bringing Trixie back to her home, Chloe drove to the L.A.P.D with Lucifer and Petraeus.

"Los Angeles is a quite unusual place. Even if it had a lot of lovely surroundings, I'm not fond of its nightlife. But I can understand why you choose to live here, my Lightbringer!" stated the celestial spirit.

"What can I say? I love the atmosphere of Los Angeles at night, and my nightclub is among the most popular of the city!" smirked Lucifer.

"How boastful you are!" gently mocked Chloe.

"Oh, honey, why do you have to hurt me?" pouted Lucifer while making puppy eyes.

"Because she knows you well, darling!" chuckled Peter.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Police Department and headed to the forensic lab. When they entered the lab, Ella was already there, checking the last victim's remains.

"Good morning, Ella!"

The coroner rose her head and greeted her colleagues with a warm smile.

"Hiya, guys! How are you?"

"We're fine, thanks. Still working on the last victim?"

"Unfortunately: I scanned every ash, every piece of flesh, but I can't find any bloody clue! The only thing I found so far are traces of bindings on their wrists and ankles!"

She noticed Peter's presence.

"May I know the name of our dashing visitor?"

"Where are my manners? My name is Petraeus, but you can call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. And you are...?"

"Ah yes: I'm Lucifer's dad."

Ella frowned, puzzled.

"But I thought Lucifer's father is God!"

"Well, I'm his other dad..."

When she put all the pieces together, she jumped back and yelped.

"HOLY COW! DOES IT MEAN THAT GOD IS GAY?"

"Bisexual, precisely. And don't worry, I had quite the same reaction as you when Lucifer told me!" explained Chloe.

Ella ran her hand through her black hair.

"Sorry if I appear rude, but it's a lot to handle in one day, and this is not what I was taught!"

"Don't worry, I understand!" reassured Peter.

"Auntie Rosalia won't ever believe it if I told her... Well, I'm pleased to meet another member of your family, Lucifer, but can you tell why your number 2 father is doing here?"

"My dear Miss Lopez, my Papa came to helping us in this murder case!"

"Really?"

"Indeed, my son told me that you were struggling with those killings!"

"Struggling is an understatement. Would you like to check on the body I'm currently working on?"

"Well, if you allow me, I accept with pleasure!"

Ella gestured for him to come closer to inspect the remains.

He inclined and carefully looked at the corpse. After his observation, he muttered:

"I can confirm that your murderer is a supernatural creature!"

"Oh no! That's what I feared!" sighed Chloe as she facepalmed.

"And what else can you tell us about it?" asked Ella.

"That it is from another mythology: so, it's not a Biblical demon who is causing this tragedy. I hesitate between a European creature and a Middle Eastern spirit."

At the same time, Dan Espinoza made his entrance into the lab:

"Hello, Ella! Anything new about..."

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the presence of Lucifer and Chloe:

"Chloe, Lucifer..."

"Detective Douchebag..." gritted the demon.

Dan turned his head and remarked Peter near the body:

"Ella, are you mad? Why are you letting a civilian looking at the body?"

"Because, sir, I offered my help to your department." calmly explained the celestial being.

Espinoza asked his ex wife:

"Who's this lad?"

"You better show respect to my..." growled Lucifer, but his father stopped him.

"It's okay, Lucifer: I'll handle it!"

He stepped towards Dan and asked:

"Can I know your name, detective?"

"I'm Detective-Sergeant Daniel Espinoza."

"Espinoza? Oh, you must be Trixie's father: she is a wonderful child, you know. You are lucky to have her!" genuinely said Peter.

"Er, thanks... But how do you know her?"

"Because she and I met him last night at Lucifer's place!" explained Chloe.

"Chlo, you can't let someone you don't know near to our daughter!"

"But I'm not some creepy stranger, you know. Let me introduce myself: I'm Petraeus, or Peter if you prefer my human name. I am Lucifer's father... And by the way, I am God's husband!"

A silence followed this announcement before Dan yelled:

"WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? God cannot be gay: it's impossible! It's not written in the Bible!"

"But humankind does not know all about God, right? And I reassure you: it's not a witticism, but the truth!"

"But still: God cannot be with a man!"

"Are you just confessing your homophobia, Detective Douchebag?" sneered Lucifer.

"You, go to Hell!"

"Been there already. King of Hell, remember?"

"Well, just get back and don't piss me off!"

"Stop insulting my son! As for my marriage with God, I can assure you that it's true: we had a beautiful and sincere relationship for billions of years!"

"But I never heard about you!"

"I trust you: I prefer being discreet. But I'm sure you know my other name..."

"Your other name?" asked Dan, bewildered.

"Does your dad had another name?" demanded Chloe to Lucifer.

"I don't remember it..." answered Lucifer, confused.

At the same time, Espinoza urged Peter to tell him:

"And what is your other name?"

"Oh, I am sure you know it... You may also know me as Virgin Mary!"

All stood astounded by the statement... until Dan fainted, unable to handle it anymore.

"Woah! That was a shock, for sure!" muttered Chloe.

"Is he still alive?" inquired Ella.

"I don't know, and I don't really care!" scoffed Lucifer.

As for Peter, he cannot help but giggle.

"That's what I expected! This joke works every time!"

"I wonder where does Lucifer takes his mocking personality..." smirked Detective Decker.

"I had a good teacher!" answered the fallen angel.

"See, Chloe: this is how I handle rude people! And I must add that my dearest husband loves my sense of humor!"

"What can I say? You're the best man in the universe, Papa!"

"Thank you, my little flame! Now, let's go back to work, shall we?"

The quatuor worked all day to find answers to this tricky case. Thanks to their teamwork, they discovered that the scientific team went to Saudi Arabia three months ago and were in the middle of a controversial story.

Indeed, they were blamed for the accidental destruction of an old temple dedicated to the jinni. And to add more fuel to the fire, the wreck caused severe injuries to a native teenage boy named Yassin. They excused themselves for the damages and never paid for their responsibilities. Moreover, they fled back to the United States before any juridical process started.

When they learned that story, Chloe was appalled, to say the least:

"How could they act like cowards?"

"Well, they were more concerned about their careers than a human life! But it does not mean that I approve their behaviors!" stated Lucifer.

"Moreover, the young boy's family was too poor to sue the team! They gave up in exchange for some money! Some people are so heartless..." grunted Ella.

"And so, we cannot suspect them to carry out their revenge against those who wronged them: first of all, because Yassin is in a comatose state. Secondly, his family does not have enough financial resources to travel from their country to Los Angeles. And thirdly, we know that it's a supernatural creature who murdered some members of the scientific team!" itemized Peter.

"Do you think a jinn could be responsible?" asked Ella.

"There is a huge probability that a jinn can be responsible for all the murders. Furthermore, they perfectly control natural elements, and they are extremely ferocious towards those who offend them!"

Chloe looked at her watch and suggested:

"Okay, guys: what if we continue our work at my place? You are my guests!"

"With great pleasure, Chloe! I wonder where do you live?"

"Somewhere less luxurious than Lucifer's penthouse!"

"Don't belittle yourself, love. Your home is a nice place, too."

Later in the evening, at Chloe's home.

Once settled at Chloe's place, the four investigators were brainstorming with the help of Mazikeen, who came empty-handed from her research.

"But how a Saudi jinn can go to Los Angeles? I mean, there are two continents and an ocean between the two!" grumbled Ella, who scratched her head, frustrated.

"That's an excellent question... I'm not familiar with the Arabic magical world, much to my chagrin!" sighed Lucifer.

Trixie, who laid on the sofa, looked at the ceiling, a slight frown on her face. She really wanted to help her mum, but she did not know how... until an idea popped into her mind.

"Mum..."

"What, Trixie?"

"I wonder... What if the boy's family appealed to a jinn to avenge him? It can explain how the jinn arrives here..."

The five adults looked at each other with amazement: they obviously did not think about this possibility!

"Of course! How can I forget this?" exclaimed Lucifer.

"By answering to their prayers, he would not only avenge the boy but also make the scientists pay for the destruction of his temple!" concluded Ella.

"That's right, but I have to mention something: jinn need a human vessel to travel such a long distance. Like this, those spirits can save their energy and powers!" described Peter.

"It can be everyone else! How can we unmask him?" asked Trixie.

"Don't worry about it: I would recognize him without a doubt!"

"Okay, but now we had to find him before he exterminates the remaining members of the scientific team!" said Mazikeen.

Suddenly, Chloe's phone rang.

"Hello?"

**"Chloe? It's Dan!"**

"I'm listening..."

**"It's about the case you work on... I have some news for you!"**

"Go ahead!"

**"First of all, we had a janitor from the lab who said that he remembered seeing someone roaming near the building many times. He cannot give us a name, but the description matches with Terry Bradford, an ex-convict. He was often arrested for acts of violence and was among the suspects of a drug dealer's murder case."**

"Uh, interesting. What else?"

**"I don't think you're ready for this one, but do you remember the boy who was injured by the scientists in Saudi Arabia?"**

"Of course, why?"

**"Well, my contact in the Saudi embassy told me that Yassin was declared missing for one and a half weeks."**

"MISSING?" exclaimed Peter, Lucifer, Trixie, Ella, and Mazikeen.

"But that's impossible! He is in a coma!"

**"He is supposed to, but the nurses found his bed empty. Since then, they searched him everywhere but in vain!"**

"Oh, I feel that I'm going crazy. Do you have anything else?"

**"No, except that I'm searching for Bradford: his probation agent did not see him for several days!**"

"Okay, I got it: be careful!"

**"Don't worry: I'll manage, as always! Good luck!"**

After she hung up, Chloe asked:

"Have you heard the news?"

"Yes, and it turns this investigation into a brain-teaser! Now, we had another suspect!" sighed Ella.

Peter turned to his son and asked:

"Do you have any idea about it, son?"

"I'm trying to put the pieces together, but it's more complicated than I thought..."

Suddenly, the King of Hell had an eye-opener.

"Of course! How I did not think about it before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Papa, but jinns can manipulate people too, right?"

"Of course."

"So, he must have taken possession of Yassin's body, traveled from Saudi Arabia, and hypnotized Bradford, forcing him to kidnap the scientists!"

"This is a good analysis, son! You'll never cease to impress me!" fondly smiled Peter.

"Okay, so we must find the jinn and Bradford before they kill another victim. But, where can we find them?"

"They need an isolated place to accomplish their crimes..."

"I know! The former industrial site near the docks! It's abandoned for years!" shrieked Ella.

"Alright, let's check there! We'll probably have answers!" declared Lucifer, who got from his seat.

"I'm coming with you!" shouted Trixie, but her mother stopped her.

"Not so fast, young lady! You stay here: it's too dangerous!"

"Mommy, we live with Satan himself: there is no danger!" stated the young girl.

"She can come with me: I promise to look after her as if she was the apple of my eyes !" assured Peter.

"Trust my Papa, Chloe: the last one who dared scared his children is still traumatized by his anger!" affirmed the fallen angel.

"I confirm: he is as scary as God!" nodded Mazikeen.

"If you say so... Okay, let's go: we don't have time to lose!"

Soon after, the team drove to the former industrial site, hoping to prevent another murder.

"I never handle a jinn, so I don' know what to do!" admitted Chloe.

"Me neither, and I don't know Koran!" added Ella.

"Don't worry about the jinn, and focus on Bradford! Lucifer, Mazikeen, and I will take care of the jinn!"

"Are you going to hurt him? What if you hurt the boy instead?" asked Trixie, worried.

"You don't have to worry, Trixie: we'll handle it!" smiled Mazikeen.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Then, they wandered through the buildings, searching for the jinn.

"Do you see anything?" asked Ella.

"Not yet, but I'm sure we're not far from them!" mumbled Lucifer.

As they progressed, they bumped into Dan.

"Dan? What are you doing here?" whispered Chloe.

"I can ask you the same... And why Trixie is here?"

"Because my dad wanted so, and now, shut up and be useful for once in your stupid life!" snarled Lucifer.

Peter gently patted his shoulder.

"Calm down, son: it's okay! Now, let's go! I feel that they are not far from here!"

The group silently walked until they heard a painful scream.

"Oh, I hope we're not too late!"

"The scream comes from this building! Let's go!" said Chloe.

They came closer to the building and watched through a hole in the wall the remaining scientists, hanged by the arms at a butcher's hook. Circling near them, a tall blonde muscular man held a baseball bat in his hand, while an Arab teenage boy stood in front of them, a stern look on his face.

"We found them! It looks like the jinn wants to play with them before the fatal blow!" uttered Ella.

"We need to intervene before he burns someone else!" rustled Dan as he pulled his gun out of its holder.

"Who do you think you are? John Wayne? Can't you just think before you act, idiot?" snapped Lucifer.

"Shh, low your voice! If they heard us, we're doomed!" whined Trixie.

Meanwhile, the scientists begged for their lives.

"Please, don't kill us! We'll do anything you want!" pleaded a dark-haired man.

"SILENCE! All of you don't deserve my mercy, filthy humans!" growled Yassin with an unusual booming voice.

For sure, this voice did not belong to a fourteen years old young man.

"The power of his voice... It's not a common jinn we deal with: I'm sure it's a jinn-king!" muttered Peter.

"A jinn-king?" asked Dan.

"Yes, I'm afraid so... What is the plan?"

"We'll follow your idea: Dan, Ella, and I, we deal with Bradford. As for you, Mazikeen, and Lucifer, you focus on the jinn!" declared Chloe.

"It's good for me!"

The team split into two groups and prepared to intervene as the jinn was about to slay another victim.

"How could you be so stupid? Didn't you think you could run away from your crimes without facing the consequences?"

"Please, have mercy!" cried his soon-to-be victim.

"You begged me to have mercy? Did you show any compassion for the boy you harmed? None of you ever show commiseration for him!"

Suddenly, he was interrupted by the entrance of the team.

"Nobody move! Time to stop the fire!" ordered Dan as he aimed his gun at Yassin.

The possessed boy gave him an arrogant smile:

"Look who we got here! You must be stupid or too proud to dare to threaten a jinn, Daniel Espinoza!"

"How do you know my name?" asked the latter, confused.

"He is a spiritual being, Dan: it explains how he knows you!" told Mazikeen.

"Indeed, Mazikeen of the Lilim. I see that you don't lose your strength!"

"Do you want a demonstration?"

"No, I'd rather not."

He turned to Lucifer and smirked:

"What a surprise! I do not expect the King of Hell among us tonight! Nice to meet you, Lucifer Morningstar! Or should I say, Samael the Lightbringer? The fallen one?"

"Thank you for revealing my CV, mister King-Jinn! But the manners command to tell us your name!" snickered Lucifer.

"Try to guess!" mocked the jinn.

Peter stepped between his son and the jinn and said:

"I think I know who you are, King-Jinn Murrah Al-Abyad! Or should I say King-Jinn Al-Abyad, the White Demon?"

"Oh, interesting! I certainly did not foresee such prestigious guests!"

"What if you show your true form? I am not comfortable speaking with a possessed child!"

"As you wish!"

In front of the humans' bewildered eyes appeared a handsome brown-haired man. His ivory skin contrasted with his ebony eyes.

He was dressed in a sumptuous Oriental outfit: a dark red sleeveless vest that revealed a toned chest and a pair of crimson pants with embroidered flames. He wore golden bracelets around his wrists and ankles, plus a golden circlet with a shining ruby on his head.

"Undoubtedly, he is a King-Jinn!" muttered Trixie, who was hiding behind Lucifer.

"Indeed, urchin. And he loves to show off!" scoffed the demon.

Meantime, Peter and Al-Abyad talked:

"So, I finally meet God's beloved spouse, Petraeus the Benevolent! I've heard a lot about you, but I admit that I never saw your face until tonight!"

"Do I disappoint your expectations?"

"Not even the slightest. If truth be told, I expect Goddess's successor to be as powerful as she was! That said, no creature anticipates the Almighty falling in love with a man, as it is supposed to be a sin!"

Peter rolled his eyes:

"Thank you, I have noticed! But only humans said that, not my husband! But, you might guess that we're not here to talk about my marriage!"

"I figured it out: you're here to obstruct my punishment against those maggots!"

The celestial spirit nodded.

"I appreciate your concern about them, but you better mind your own business: I am offended, so they have to pay the price!"

"I got it: it was your temple which gets destroyed!" said Chloe.

"You're right, Miss Chloe Decker. But I assure you that I would have done little more than tormenting them if they did not act like cowards!"

The jinn furiously glanced at the scientists who were shivering with fear.

"But no... They wounded a child and made a family suffering because of their greed! You would understand that I cannot let this misdemeanor pass!"

"I understand what you mean, and I agree that they deserve a sentence for their misdeed. But I can't let you kill those humans like that: it's not fair!"

The jinn roared.

"You think THIS is not fair? But I'm doing what your so-called almighty husband should have done earlier instead of being passive. Self-judgment? Ah! What a pathetic excuse he hides behind!"

Trixie walked near the jinn and tried to calm him:

"Mister King-Jinn, I think Peter tries to tell you that there is no need to burn people alive!"

"NO TRIXIE, STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" yelled Dan, but Bradford stood in his way and tried to hit him.

"Back off, you jerk!" yelled Chloe, who kicked the thug in the head, knocking him out.

As for the jinn, his expression softened when he saw the young girl talking to him.

"What do you mean, Beatrix?"

"I mean... You did not need to kill people to punish them. There are different ways. I know you only did that for helping a young boy, and I'm sure your people are grateful to have you as a protector. But please, stop! I promise that my mama would punish them for what they did... And you can count on her for that!"

"My little monkey!" smiled Chloe.

Peter stepped near Trixie and added:

"You know children: they cannot lie."

Al-Abyad sighed.

"I know, but... No one would dare lay their hands on a child without suffering my wrath!"

"I know what you mean. I would be enraged to the core if anyone ever threatens my children. I know we are not linked by blood, but I love them like my own, and I would do anything to punish the culprit who made them miserable! You can ask Astaroth: now, he will think twice before considering attacking Azrael again."

He put his hand on the jinn's shoulder.

"End your crusade of anger, and let us handle this case. I swear they will face justice!"

Al-Abyad stayed silent for a long time, lost in his thoughts: he craved so much making those criminals enduring torments for their negligence. Nevertheless, he knew Petraeus's reputation as a dutiful man, and the jinn knew that if he said anything, he would keep his word.

Sighing, he conceded:

"Fine, you won! I'll let you deal with those pathetic creatures. But you better keep your promise, or I'll come back to finish my work!"

"Don't worry, I save a special spot for them in my kingdom!" sadistically smirked Lucifer, his eyes glowing red.

Satisfied by the answer, the jinn declared:

"Then, I shall go!"

"Wait, mister Al-Abyad!" exclaimed Trixie.

"What is it, Beatrix?"

"What about Yassin? Will he be alright?"

A small smile appeared on the jinn's face.

"Have no fear for him, little one. Yassin would be fine... and that's why I leave him to you: I want him to see that you will help him!"

"Understood."

"Very well. Goodbye, and may fate be kind to you!"

And he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Well, that was an unusual encounter!" sighed Ella.

"Unusual? You mean unbelievable? Damn it, Ella: we met a jinn! A creature that only exists in fairytales!" squealed Dan.

"I'm sure Al-Abyad would be delighted to hear that!" sneered Lucifer.

At the same time, Yassin slowly opened his eyes. Looking at his surroundings, he realized that he was no longer at home and started panicking:

"'ayn 'anaa? limadha 'iinaa huna? 'ayn waliday?" (Where am I? Why am I here? Where are my parents?)

Peter hurried and held the young boy in his arms, one of his hands gently cradling Yassin's head.

"Everything is okay, Yassin. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise."

The teenager sobbed:

"'amiy ... 'urid 'an 'araa 'ami!" (Mum... I want to see my mother!)

Gently wiping away the tears that rolled down Yassin's cheeks, the celestial spirit soothed the young boy:

"Shh, don't cry. You will see your mother soon. I'll stay here with you, I promise!"

"I am here, too!" added Trixie, who sat near Yassin and held his hand in comfort.

When he saw this scene, it reminded Lucifer of painful memories: he saw himself as a young child, weeping after his mother rejected him for the umptieth time.

He also remembered the warm embrace of Peter, who tried to comfort him. He heard his voice, calm and loving, who repeated that he will always be there for him and he'll always love him.

Coming close to her boyfriend, Chloe asked:

"Are you okay?"

The demon put himself together and said:

"Yes, absolutely."

"You seemed... touched."

Lucifer sighed:

"Maybe because... I remembered why my dad made the right choice, billions of years ago!"

Puzzled, Chloe turned and saw her daughter and Peter, comforting Yassin as paramedics checked on him.

She smiled:

"I see what you mean... Your father is a great person."

"Yes, indeed. My mama is the best man in the universe, and I won't tell otherwise!"

A few days later.

The group was gathered at Chloe's home to celebrate their success. Bradford was put in jail for his collusion in the murders. The remaining teammates of the research group were complied to pay damages to Yassin.

Speaking of the young boy, he flew back to Saudi Arabia, where he was warmly welcomed by his family and many people. He was even received by the royal family!

"It ended well, at least! I'm so happy to get some rest!" smiled Ella, sipping her glass of soda.

"So am I! But I'm sure we would never find out without Peter's help!" added Chloe.

"Don't depreciate your work! You did an amazing job, and I only contributed to help you!" humbly answered Peter.

"You are too cool! And charismatic!" beamed Trixie.

"Thank you, my dear!"

Suddenly, a small ball of light appeared in the room. It flew through the room before stopping in front of Peter. Then, it puts a piece of paper in his hand before disappearing.

"What was that?" asked Dan, utterly amazed.

"Let's see..." muttered Peter, who unfolded the note and read the following message:

Come back to me, my love. I need your presence by my side as huge as your absence makes my heart ache for you. Eternally yours. Your devoted husband.

"It looks like someone misses you!" smirked Mazikeen.

"What can I say? He is lost without me!" laughed Peter.

"Does it mean you have to leave?" pouted Trixie.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I promise to come here as soon as I can!"

He greeted the others goodbye before holding his son:

"Take care of you, my little demon!"

"Don't worry, Papa: I'll be careful!"

As he waved goodbye, the celestial spirit disappeared in a flash of light.

Even if he wished to spend more time with his father, Lucifer knew that Petraeus would come back one day or another. And this day, he would welcome him with open arms, like a good son...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you liked it!

Can’t wait to see your requests and don’t hesitate to give your opinion (respectfully, please!)

See you later! 😘🥰💝

#requests #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #mazikeen #trixie espinoza #dan espinoza #ella lopez #tom ellis #lauren german #jon hamm #lesley ann brandt #scarlett estevez #kevin alejandro #aimee garcia

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maximumninjavoid · 3 years

Text

Mining for unobtanium

chapter 40

I know. I've lost my damn mind, right?

The usual warnings. if you're under 18, go AWAY.

There's no smut in this chapter. I know, I know......

@indigosaurus @fishcustardandclintbarton @tinareher and all the rest of you lovely mad persons who are with me on this ride.....

He was sitting in first class, reading scripts or something. I was sitting in business class, dressed like an eccentric American, and engrossed in my notebook. I couldn't sit near him and concentrate, and I was damned sure going to do my fucking job. I was poring over pages of notes, scribbling in the margins, piecing together every little nuance. His role models, his friends, his family, the past relationships, what worked, what didn't, my theories on why, all of it.

I read it. Reread it. Highlighted parts. Color-coded if you must know, trying to unlock the secrets. I was not; AM not a puzzle person. Problem-solving? Oh, I'm your girl. I had room to spread my notes, looking at data files, investigation reports; he'd shit if he saw those, but I was given a free rein after all.....I saw the commonalities, and finally, the pattern emerged. We're all just slaves to our inner selves, aren't we? And just as I had my inner asshole that wound up and ground me down, sure as God made little green apples, I could see or hear, rather HIS inner asshole. The brother that's super military, and what path Henry would have taken if acting hadn't worked, the order of his birth, the Fat Cavill bullshit, it was RIGHT THERE.

I almost yelled "Eureka!"

He didn't see himself the way the rest of us saw him. Not even a little bit, and the travel and the shooting schedules gave way to loneliness. It was then he was most vulnerable to the types of women that wanted something from him and he didn't understand that his reach could well exceed his grasp. Smug as a motherfucker I closed my notebook and just let my brain run with its new discovery. We had a few more hours in the air, and I was charged up like a superconductor. Goddamn, I wanted a cigarette.

He wants a partner. He wants the kind of family he knows he had growing up, what his married brothers have. He wants a good girl who'll be naughty just for him. He can't deny or dismiss the bends in his sexual desires, not long term anyway, and when he rushes the process, that's exactly where it explodes, every time. If you're too willing to overlook deal breakers, then of COURSE you'll mistake all those red flags for a carnival. Every single time.

She'd have to be smart. Ideally a bit of a geek. Able to hold her own, with a career, not a job. But not a fan girl, that wouldn't work at all. Understanding what his demands are and willing to work through them. And she'd have to love dogs. Dog parks. Art museums, sci-fi cons. Cosplay. Not an actor, and certainly not someone in the business. And by the business, of course, I mean the industry.

If radio still existed.....ah well, that was my nostalgia. Maybe not even an American. Beautiful, of course, but just as lovely inside. Like he is. A little old-fashioned, not 1950's housewife, but maybe sometimes, for fun. A writer maybe? I scribbled some more furious notes. A designer perhaps.

I wrote some more. Substantial. In shape but not too in shape. Still feminine, curvy. Great tits and an ass he'd want to smack or grab. Someone who would love ALL of him. Even the small insecure parts.

I put all my files back in my Zero Halliburton briefcase, locked it and with the key on a chain between my boobs, I put it back in the overhead and sat back, feeling accomplished. He wanted what I had laid out, but got distracted by easy conquests and settled. There would be no more settling.

He would get precisely what he needed, what he deserved. And I would see to it personally.

At arrival, I assume he zipped through customs and into a waiting car. Stars do that sort of thing, and I insisted he not hand around waiting on me. I had quite a bit of baggage and customs was less than fun. God I REALLY wanted a smoke. Luggage piled on the trolley, briefcase handcuffed to me ( I said eccentric, remember) hair spiked up and bright white, shoulder pads out to here, and thank the maker for impeccable travel knit. I saw one of his staff and waved.

" Hi Ellen! " we hugged and she asked about the flight. I grumbled and she led me to where I could smoke. " I swear, I'd almost hump your leg for this," I said inhaling half of a 100 in a single drag. She threw her head back and laughed. "They told me you were something else!" She handed me a set of keys, directions to where my car was parked, and said the GPS had my address already in it. I told her I wanted a shower and some food, she said the groceries were already there and waiting. I bid her farewell and headed off to parking.

When I got to the spot my car was supposed to be in I spent a good fifteen minutes looking for the cameras. This was no car. It was a FERRARI.

And not just any Ferrari.....it was a GTC 4Lusso. Twelve cylinders. Zero to 60 in three-point four seconds, and a seven-speed automatic. They also hadn't made any since 2016. And, it was a hatchback. Well, a Ferrari hatchback.

Ok. I squealed. Panoramic roof. aluminum brake calipers. Just enough carbon fiber to make me wet, and I swear, when I fired her up, I came. All the bags fit right in, I punched a few buttons on the nav and headed out. I called my new boss.

" I should tell you that you shouldn't have, but I'm deliriously happy you did!! Where did you find her? She's perfect, you know!"

"Talking AND driving. Very American. "

"Thank God it’s an automatic.....I'm touching myself you know...."

An exasperated sigh from the other end.

" Thank you. You're way too good to me."

“ You deserve it………..and don’t even think about arguing with me”

“ Oooh NOW who’s being cheeky? And the steering wheel is even on the proper side…… but right turns are going to be weird……..”

He hung up on me.

If I knew where I was going, I would have taken the long way. I hadn’t had THIS much fun driving since I got my first Miata or the time I drag raced some guy who said “ you’re just a chick, you can’t drive…”Remind me to tell you that story. It’s a doozy. The car in question got 15 tickets standing still. Wasn’t even close to street legal.

I pull up to this I don’t know what to call it. It didn’t remind me of the mews house that Henry had, but it wasn’t the hotel I stayed in either. Marleybone. Whatever THAT meant…… the information said it was a duplex apartment and I had the key code, so in I went and wow.

Mid Century Modern, Clean lines, nice kitchen, a terrace so I could go smoke! I mean I HAVE my priorities. The bed looked HUGE, big enough for me to sleep like a starfish, and two trips and I had all my stuff dragged in. I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. When she said that groceries had been laid in, she wasn’t kidding. There was a whole shelf of vitamin water and oh my STARS! There was a coffee maker on the counter! That HAD to have come from Amazon, right? Surely I must be the only coffee drinker in where was I ? Marleybone. That was going to make me giggle for a minute. There was a study in the second bedroom, so I would have space to work, a whiteboard the size of one wall, this was perfect!

I grabbed a beverage and set about unpacking and hanging up all my things and putting other things in drawers. Wifi connected, I found the Spotify playlist I was looking for and began to putter about. My watch was still on US time and my fit bit was on local time so I knew I was going to crash, hard, but the longer I stayed up the better I was going to adjust.

After unpacking I still had energy, so I grabbed the briefcase and spread my notes out on the desk. Markers in hand I began diagramming on the whiteboard. It helped me to be able to SEE what I was thinking. Graphing out his stated values and needs, and then listing the attributes he SAID he wanted versus what he actually fell for and where the disconnects were, in color, of course. Dotted lines, arrows, I was dangerously close to eight by ten color glossies with a circle and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one……. Alice’s restaurant…. No? Ok, never mind.

I started a quick list of where the train jumped the tracks, going all in too soon, not really taking the time to get to know them, having divergent interests and no commonalities, incompatibilities in career, work ethic, at least what *I* could identify from my assessment. I made a note to do the core values assessment and make certain I hadn’t missed anything.

#henry cavill + reader #henry cavill fanfic

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

The Never Ending Roadtrip (tie the knot)

summary: (part 1) / (part 8) fem!reader joins Douxie on his quest for Nari’s safety, he’ll need company wont he? PART 7) two weddings in one day for our lovely wizard couple.

warning: swearing, maybe? prolly tho, alcohol, the us government

word count: 3149

a/n: the target audience here is def me. ahahjdd i hurt myself writing this, bon appetit

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n let her eyes wander through the strange place. She supposed this was a pawn shop of sorts, but not one a mortal would patron. Or even know about. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got there herself. This was technically a basement. Grungy, yet somehow fancy? There was sand on the floor, and a giant floor to ceiling glass pane that made up an entire wall, letting patrons know they were in the bottom of the river Cohansey. Which would be beautiful, had this not been New Jersey. The water was murky, trash floating by with the occasional fish. Big, slimy green fish that looked like they could swallow an old lady’s chihuahua. Or maybe a toddler. There were shelves and shelves of either the shittiest junk you ever saw or things that looked like they belonged in an Egyptian tomb. Best not to touch anything. Y/n couldn’t clearly remember the entrance to this place, or entering, but that must have been a part of the concealment magic in place.

Douxie wasn’t kidding when he said they’d sign the papers tomorrow. He found himself acting fast, in case she changed her mind. She wouldn’t, of course. But just in case. While it would seem rushed to any outsiders, it didn’t feel so to him. Might as well have taken an eternity. A millennium. He had known her for years, was her best friend for years, he knew everything about her. She knew everything about him. It became much more apparent when suddenly she had the skill to do nothing but look at him and know something was amiss. Despite his best poker face he’d developed over the centuries, capable of fooling even the most observant of company. Not her. He had hoped she felt as strongly towards him as he her. He still had his insecurities and doubts, even if these rings could prove it.

He paid no mind to the big slimy green fish that flashed their large teeth to patrons. Douxie dug through the box of loose rings, looking for something specific, surely. Different enchantments, different curses, different styles, he needed to find the perfect pair. The sound of metal clattering was starting to become grating to the other patrons of the pawn shop. It was way too early for such clanging. Sure, it was afternoon, but still. Douxie had already found one for him, he just needed to dig around a little bit longer to find one for Y/n. He had already found several that could work, a bronze one shaped like tree branches around an emerald stone, a dainty silver braided band to bind, and an amethyst solitaire with calming qualities. None of these were right. Perhaps settling wouldn- Eureka, there it was. A nice gold band, the mate to the silver toned one for him, engraved with the matching runes, protection for them as they were together.

Douxie happily purchased the rings from the man behind the glass counter, to the relief of the other patrons. He found Y/n locked in a staring contest with one of those toothy fish. He pulled her away, assuring her that Fish don’t have eyelids, Love. Strange, she could have sworn that one did. He opened his palm, showing her the rings. She squealed, to the annoyance of the other patrons. They needed to get out of her before someone kicked them out.

They didn’t have to spend anything on dress/tux rentals, all thanks to Hisirdoux brand magic clothes. Y/n did manage to squeeze Archie into a little bowtie, much to the dragon-cat’s dismay. Y/n made sure to get a snapshot of it for archie_the_emo_kitty. Unlike Archibald, Nari was more than willing to boast formal wear. With all those wedding dresses she’d looked at with Y/n in mind, she begged Douxie to give her a little poufy green dress. Doux snuck in some smoky quartz as beading. Just a little extra protection never hurts. She was a very happy forest child, and spent a lot of time spinning around and around, fascinated by how the fabric flounced. She was very eager to do her part once Y/n explained to her what a flower girl was. Nari was going to be the best girl of flowers. Flowers grew from her hair.

The bowtie wrestled around Archie’s little neck matched the one around Douxie’s. Archie was technically the best man, of course. Some might think having a cat as your best man a bit sad, but there was no truer friend than Archie. And while Archie made them believe he was disgruntled at his state, this was only to preserve his pride. He would do anything if to make his brother, his familiar, smile. Even wearing a stupid blue bowtie and standing next to him during some sort of ceremony. Archie had to admit, he was surprised. Well, not surprised about them marrying, just that it was happening so soon. He knew his wizard’s heart could get ahead of him sometimes, so what was really surprising was learning that miss L/n proposed it. Perhaps those two were more alike than he knew.

Douxie looked really good in his suit, Y/n thought. Of course, anyone looks good in one, but Douxie looked extra good. Very handsome. It wasn’t a tuxedo, but he still opted for black with a little blue embroidery, and of course the blue bowtie. Very classic Douxie. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way. He tried slicking back his hair but Y/n stopped him. No need to hide that perfect fringe, thank you. She braided a few of the strands down the side of it but not enough to obstruct it. There, that was good enough. Different but still the classic Douxie look. He laughed as she fussed with it. Some wildflowers he and Y/n picked earlier that morning were pinned to his lapel.

Y/n held a bunch of the same wildflowers in her hands. Not exactly a bouquet, but enough. She and Doux had woven some of them into crowns for each other to wear, respectively, for the day. It was a trollish tradition she thought was adorable. Picking the flowers together, weaving them into headpieces for the other to wear, a sort of unity thing. How beautiful.

Y/n actually made her own dress without Douxie’s help, as seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding was bad luck, after all. Douxie had taught her the spell, and she had been practicing an awful lot. It wasn’t perfect, but it did turn out to be exactly what she wanted. Y/n ran her hands down her sides, Not too frilly, not too sexy. Soft, sweet and romantic. And her. It looked like her. She hoped Doux would like it. He did.

She left her hair down. Douxie had made a comment once, way back when, that he thought it looked beautiful loose. She hadn’t meant for him to see it then. Douxie liking it was hard for fathom, considering her aunt had drilled into her head that loose hair was for loose minds, silly people not to be taken seriously. One’s hair should only be down when bathing or changing, especially not around others. In a way, leaving her hair loose like this was an expression of intimacy.

While they went to sign the papers officially in the eyes of the US government, the real wedding was out in the forest, with the trolls. Still, they figured they should tie their legal identities together, it’s not like a troll can actually officiate. Despite their legal identities being temporary and they would definitely have to forge new documents in half a century, they needed this for taxes and all that jazz. Y/n was going to make Douxie combine their bank accounts eventually. An efficient end to their ‘no, let me pay’ fights. But now wasn’t the time for finances. This was about love. And despite this not being the real wedding, Y/n still felt giddy.

The air in the courthouse smelled like dust and tobacco, and it felt like vague memories of confusion and bureaucracy. Strange memories, yet somehow nostalgic. At first the employees weren’t going to let Archie into the building, but once Douxie picked him up and showed him off, explaining that he was the best man, they couldn’t help but let him and his little bowtie in. That’s the thing about being cute, you often get away with murder.

Standing in front of the judge was daunting, even though Douxie knew he did nothing wrong. This time. He was just here to sign that marriage license. What a wonderful piece of paper, covered in calligraphy, stating that he legally belonged to Y/n and Y/n legally belonged to him. Such a fragile thing, in his hands. He would preserve it. Save it for centuries. The witness was a stranger, but that didn’t matter. Archie was the real witness, but alas cats have no power in court. Y/n blushed under Douxie’s gaze as they signed their names to the document. She looked ethereal in that dress, with the flowers in her hair. Even thought they were in a stuffy courtroom with people paying for traffic tickets, she was a goddess, standing here next to him, signing her soul to him. He would return the gesture with his whole chest. And he did.

They slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers, and it was done. Douxie looked back into Y/n’s eyes. His wife’s eyes. His heart may have stopped with that thought. His wife’s eyes.

Y/n was vibrating with energy as they left the courthouse. It was infectious, and soon Douxie was bouncing on his toes too. They couldn’t help but keep smiling. This was just the beginning. Time for the ceremony. Well, at least neither of them had to worry about cold feet. Y/n squeezed Douxie’s hand three times as they set off for the forest. He returned the gesture, kissing the top of her head for good measure.

Once they arrived at the shaded area the trolls had gathered in, Y/n sucked in a breath. It was just, so lovely. They were sitting in a circle, the center being where the wedding couple were to stand. Wildflowers decorated the ground. Nari had made sure they were arranged nicely. While Y/n didn’t know all of these trolls, she was delighted that most of her old pals were here. A few weren’t, but only because they hadn’t made it through the eternal night a few months ago. Surely their spirits were here. The atmosphere felt too much like love and support for them to not be. One of the trolls was strumming a lute of some sort. There was a baby troll who looked like they must have been carried here while they were napping and was now bewildered as to what was going on. Douxie may not know many of the trolls himself, but their presence felt right. And it made Y/n happy. A perfectly good reason for anything nowadays.

Y/n hooked her arm through Douxie’s as he led her to the center of the circle. The gentle lute music played as they kneeled, ready to begin. The music stopped and the officiant started. The officiant was an older troll, who could’ve rivaled Vendel in terms of ancientness. Neither Douxie nor Y/n payed him much attention, locked in each other’s gazes as he read off the sacred trollish wedding texts. A breeze blew through, blowing their hair, and a strand stayed in Y/n’s eyes even after it stopped. Douxie gently brushed it away, and was so caught up in the tender action he almost missed the officiant ask him to join his hand with Y/n’s.

“We are gathered here to witness the binding of two souls. Do you, Hisirdoux Casperan, and you, Y/n L/n, come here of your own free will, to be bound to each other in life and love for the rest of eternity?”

“Aye” Douxie and Y/n offered in unison.

“Then it shall be done.” The officiant tied the handfasting ribbon around their joined hands. A golden light shone through the ribbon, a little bit of magic.

Douxie placed his free hand under Y/n’s jaw. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” I will protect you always My Love.

Y/n was somehow able to catch her breath long enough to repeat the words back to him. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” You’ll never be lonely again Dewdrop.

“May the union now be sealed” Douxie and Y/n took this as a ‘you may now kiss the bride’ as trolls don’t kiss. Y/n was pretty sure trolls touched foreheads instead, as she’d seen Blinky and Arrgh do that often. She did as such to Douxie before kissing him. It slightly confused him, but he still recognized the affection.

There was no one there but them. Douxie deepened the kiss, melting into his beloved, his wife. Y/n matched it with fervor, but pulled away just as fast, almost making him whine. He opened his eyes, getting ready to pout, but was knocked back into remembering where he was. Oh, yeah, there actually were other people. His bad.

As the sun went down and the reception started, many trolls said many things and yet Douxie had no idea what was being said. He found it very hard to focus on anything that was not Y/n in this moment. A celebration was being had, yet the only important thing was the hand clasped in his and the cool feeling of metal he would soon get used to. He couldn’t wait to get used to it, as if it were nothing but a part of his skin. He could vaguely make out what song the lute troll was currently playing, one that reminded him of his younger years, and boy, did he feel young next to Y/n.

He led her into a dance, as this was a song perfect for dancing, of course. Y/n laughed. She hadn’t expected their first dance to start so soon. The light of the setting sun cast an orange glow as they flitted around joyously. At the end of the song, Douxie lifted Y/n and spun her around. A few nearby trolls, already drunk on bright green grog, raised their mugs and gave a cheer. A toast, one supposes. Y/n giggled at how quickly Douxie put her down after that, face flushed.

The red, orange, and yellow leaves of the trees around them seemed to be amplified by the sunset. It was one of the most beautiful things Y/n had seen, and perfect ambience for the best day of her life. The sound of the lute songs, birds chirping, and trolls chattering was the sound track. She’d play it on repeat if she could. She could feel Douxie’s shoulder brushing hers, and smell the comforting scent of cloves that clung to him. With every peck she could taste the red wine on his lips.

Now that the sun had gone down, magic candles were lit throughout, lighting the festivities. The trolls took this as the signal to bring out the food and start the feast. And feast they did. Nari was very interested in their food, and while Y/n wasn’t very positive she should let the veggie lady eat half of whatever this stuff was, Y/n didn’t care to police her this day. Nari can suffer the consequences of her curiosity for once. Y/n was too busy being wrapped up in Doux.

There was a very tall cake, resting on a flat rock. Must be one of Jim’s recipes he taught them while he was with them. Or it was a traditional troll recipe. No matter, wizard digestive systems are pretty strong and stranger things had been eaten. It was decorated beautifully, with the wildflowers and florets of what was either icing or plaster. Either way it would be delicious, whether it be made with flour and spices or gypsum and cat blood. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly as Y/n smashed it into Douxie’s pretty face.

He should have been expecting that. He had hoped she’d be sweet and gently feed him but he supposed the temptation was too great for his mischievous bride. A cheshire cat grin replaced his adoring expression as he grabbed a glob himself and smeared it across her features in retaliation. Y/n burst out laughing, grabbing him by the collar to kiss him and get them even more messy. Douxie’s lips tasted sweet, so it must be one of Jim’s icing recipes. Archie was glad he over by the rock and not next to them, in the splatter zone.

The dancing lasted all night. The candles, the full moon, and the stars cast a romantic glow to the celebration. The full moon was the perfect moon, a blessing for their big day. Douxie was very thankful for lute troll, this is exactly what he pictured his wedding sounding like when he was a boy. He twirled Y/n around effortlessly and endlessly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever tire of this. Her soft hands in his, he absolutely knew he’d never tire of. The trolls taught them a few of their traditional dances too, Y/n seemed to really have fun with those. At one point, Y/n danced with Nari, a cheerful little ditty, and Douxie thought it was the new most adorable thing he’s ever seen. It was cuteness overload, he may have to go sit down for a bit and let his heart catch up with him. However, It wasn’t long before Y/n pulled him back onto the dance floor once again.

After the feast was devoured, conversation lulled, and the music faded, the trolls packed up and headed back to trollmarket. The light of the candles was getting dim. Still, Douxie and Y/n stayed, swaying in each other’s arms. The music may have left, but they didn’t need it. They hummed to each other as Douxie leaned over to Y/n’s ear, to sing her a song he had written for her, not too long ago. She could feel his breath on the shell of her ear as he whispered the words meant just for her. Y/n let her eyes slip closed as this man, her husband, sang his heart to her in this private moment. She wished she had a poem prepared for him. Sure, she’d written plenty, but none of the words seemed quite strong enough anymore.

#hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #douxie x y/n #douxie casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #douxie casperan #tales of arcadia x reader #my writing #nert

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bunnyywritings · 3 years

Text

fate is great

mirio togata x gn!reader

day 4: first date

word count: 1.2k

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑 - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭; 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟓

[a/n: I apologize for posting this a bit late, this is my first time writing for Mirio so I hope I did him justice. I know I’m doing ‘first date’ quite a lot, I’m worried I’m boring you all but I promise the fics will get better at the month progresses -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

First dates were always scary.

The nerves, the uncertainty, the awkwardness.

But what’s even worse than an awkward first date? Being stood up for a first date.

The waiter looked at you with pity, asking if you wanted a refill on your water and breadsticks. You nodded, muttering a quiet, “yes please.” The hope that your date would still show up dwindled as the minutes ticked by. You should’ve listened to Nejire. She warned you that this might happen but you being the stubborn person you are, you insisted on going on the date.

Another hour had gone by and you had finished your second basket of breadsticks and your fifth glass of water. Once again, the waiter approached.

“I’m so sorry to do this but my manager said that if you don’t order anything, we’re going to have to ask you to give up the table.” His voice was thick with empathy, the frown on his face showed that he really didn’t want to do this to you.

“N-No no, it’s okay. I’ll just go.” You whispered pathetically, gathering yourself before getting up to leave.

“Once again, I’m so sorry. Have a good night.”

As you walked out, Mirio couldn’t help but feel like he had seen you somewhere before. You were sitting alone at a booth when he had come in for lunch. He would glance at you from time to time, watching curiously as you constantly checked your watch or attempted a phone call that always resulted in a disappointed huff from your lips and a frown as you hung up and placed your phone back on the table. Once he saw the waiter approach your table the second time, he had just paid for his check. Determined, he made a decision as you walked past. Getting up hastily and walking out after you. You were stood on the cub, eyes scanning the busy street for an available cab.

Subtly standing a few feet from you, he saw a few tears tread down your cheeks that were tinged red from the chilly wind. His heart constricted in his chest. Someone as stunning as you were shouldn’t be shedding tears over someone that didn’t deserve them. Digging through his pocket, he grabbed a spare tissue he had and approached you.

“Rough day?” He asked softly, so as not to startle you, and held the tissue out to you.

At the sound of someone beside you, you turned to see a very charming blond. A small smile on his face as he offered you a tissue.

“Uhm yeah, I guess so.” You reached out and grabbed the tissue. “Thank you.” You whispered, bringing the soft handkerchief to your eyes and wiped your tears, blowing out a bit of snot that had started to leak from your nose. “I was supposed to meet up with someone for a first date but they bailed on me and didn’t even let me know.”

“Well it’s their loss.” He responded quickly, the fact that there was no hesitation in his words surprised you. A complete stranger was angry for you. “They’re not worth your tears.”

“I- well thank you, really. That’s very kind of you.”

There was a silence between the two of you before a light bulb went off in Mirio’s head, eyes glinted with excitement before he turned to you once more.

“Let’s go on a date!”

“W-What?!” Your eyes were basically bulging out of your head.

“Yeah! I’ll take you on a first date!”

“But you’re a complete stranger!” He continued to smile at you. “You could be some psycho murderer, for all I know!”

“Oh I can assure you that I am not a psycho murderer.”

“...”

He was really cute and a bit intriguing. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Okay.” You sighed, taking a chance on this random guy.

“Great! How does the amusement park sound?” If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging.

“Amusement park?” You asked. You were well into your 20s...you had absolutely no business going to an amusement park.

“Yeah! Of course! Sounds fun doesn’t it?”

His optimism was infectious, you found yourself slowly starting to smile. “I guess it does.”

With an excited shout, he flagged down a cab. Opening the door for you as it pulled up to the curb, following you into the backseat and settling in.

“So, what’s someone like you doing being stood up by some blind jerk?”

“Blind idiot?”

“Well yeah, they’d have to be blind not to see how stunning you are and they’d also have to be a complete jerk to stand someone up.” His words were somewhat comforting and slightly overwhelming as you found yourself flushing red at his compliment.

“O-oh well I uh, I don’t know. I mean, I can’t say I really liked them. We matched online. My friend told me not to waste my time but I didn’t listen to her.”

“Smart friend.”

“Yeah, Nejire’s always been able to see the true intentions of people.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Hey! I know Nejire!”

Slightly startled by his sudden eureka, your eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yeah! We went to the same high school and she’s dating my buddy-”

“Tamaki.” Your voice echoed his as you chuckled in disbelief.

“Wow, small world.”

As the cab ride went on, the two of you started to get to know each other and you found yourself getting more and more excited for this ‘date.’

Wind whipped around in your ears as excited shouts and squeals left his and your lips, the roller coaster twisting and winding in ways you didn’t think were possible. The day had been very eventful. The both of you boarding multiple roller coasters and playing a few carnival games. Filling your bellies with funnel cake and nacho fries before excitedly boarding another ride.

The date was a slightly cheesy one but you had actually found yourself falling for this random guy that you met today. Well not random, Nejire’s boyfriend’s friend.

His smiles and laughter had set your heart ablaze, and you couldn't tell if the butterflies you were feeling was from the adrenaline rush of the roller coaster or if it was the way your hand fit perfectly in his. You also found yourself getting quite sad as the day had started to come to an end. The sun swapping places with the moon as the both of you boarded the final ride.

The ferris wheel.

It felt like the cliche scene of a romance novel or movie, and as the wheel slowly moved and your seat made it way to the top, his hand squeezed yours gently to grab your attention.

“You know (y/n), I didn’t believe in love at first sight until this afternoon when I saw you waiting at that table.” He swallowed the lump of nerves in his throat as his heart pounded so hard, he heard it in his ears. “Maybe it was fate that I chose to eat at lunch the same restaurant your date was at. Do you believe in fate?”

His eyes met yours and time stopped.

Your eyes were alluring as they reflected the beautiful gleam of the stars in the night sky, the moonlight illuminated your features in the most ethereal way and he couldn’t help but admire you.

“Now I do.”

He closed his eyes as you leaned forward, meeting his lips in a chaste, timid kiss. A giddy chuckle left his lips as he pulled you into his arms and pressed a few kisses to your lips.

Best first date ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (open):@soul-of-rwby @randomesk-yuku @angeltsukkis

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x gn!reader #mha x gn!reader #mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #lemillion x reader #mirio togata x gn!reader #mirio x gn!reader #fluffvember #fluffvember 2020

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theknightswhosay · 3 years

Text

Eruri Musician AU

[Whole story can be found here]

2nd March 2012 - Brixton Flat, London

If you’re lucky, there’ll come a moment in life when you’ll have an ‘Eureka’ moment when you find that special something you were just meant to do. I had that special moment not once, but twice.

The first time I was twelve. A scrawny pre-teen with pimples and shit posture, stealing my step-dad’s cigarettes as if that could make me cool.

That’s the only time in my life I’ve been tall. It’s like I did all my growing just before any of the other guys did and then just stopped all of a sudden. That seemed unfair. I mean, guys are meant to keep on growing into their twenties aren’t they? But not me, apparently.

So I was twelve and all the horrors of puberty hadn’t properly hit me yet. This was before all the worst of it: before the whole school seemed to turn on me at once, before my parents disowned me and kicked me out.

I stayed late after school because Mum was late again. I was used to it: she worked three jobs and yet insisted on picking me up when she could, squezing in some ‘bonding time’ on the drive back. Honestly, it was easier to take the bus. I preferred being alone.

I was stuck at school and it was only those lucky kids who could afford extra-curriculars still there. They’d stuck me in the Main Hall to wait, and I tucked myself away in a corner with my battered, dog-eared copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

The Main Hall wasn’t empty that day. There were a handful of adults, visitors by the looks of it, not teachers, and each one holding an instrument. Turns out it was supposed to be a session to encourage kids to take up music, except of course no one had showed up.

Music wasn’t cool at my school. Not like music music anyway. Guitar was alright maybe, and some of the girls might do piano, but not the guys. Any kind of classical instrument was immediately seen as ‘gay’.

Even then, before I was out, before I even knew I was queer, I knew that being labelled as ‘gay’ was basically a death sentence.

Since I was the only student there, I couldn’t just read my book in peace, oh no. Before I knew it, one of the adults was walking towards me. He was one of those old carribean dudes from East London, well dressed, and wearing a navy hat with a bright feather on it. He looked pretty cool, nothing like the sad, beige-wearing adults who taught at our school. He had smile wrinkles around his eyes and deep dimples in his dark cheeks.

“Hello young man, would you like to try something new today?”

Terrified of human interaction, I tried to hide myself behind my book. He carried on anyway.

“This here is the clarinet, and you haven’t seen nothing so smooth as this before, I’ll bet you. Do you like music?”

Despite myself, I was curious. I peeped my head over the top of my book and nodded.

“Alright then. Well just maybe I’ll play you a little somethin’ and you tell me if you like it.”

And then he began to play.

And that was it. That was my Eureka moment. As the notes streamed out of the instrument, my mouth slowly fell open without my permission. My book fell from my hands in slow motion as I stared at him, all the hairs on my arms standing on edge as the melody wove itself through my soul, nestling deep within where it belonged.

By the time he was done, I knew. I had to learn. It was my destiny to learn. I needed an instrument of my own.

Now usually I was careful not to ask for anything from my parents, especially my step-dad. I tried to avoid him, mostly, especially when he was drunk. He would come home and his eyes would be all red and you could smell him from the moment he stepped foot in the house. My mum and I would be so quiet then, tiptoeing around him, breathing a sigh of relief if all he did was stumble to the sofa and pass out.

For the first time in my life, I had something I needed them to agree to. Luckily for me, there was a cross-school jazz band in desperate need of clarinet players. They were so desperate that the local multi-school fund agreed to back a couple scholarships for students to learn.

Even then, it was a battle to get my parents to agree.

What did I need music lessons for? My step-dad would ask. What even was a clarinet? My mother would ask. If I wanted to learn music so badly I should do something manly like the drums or bass, my step-dad said.

But I’d done my homework. One night I brought home an old Benny Goodman CD from the school library and before they could stop me I loaded it into our bashed up stereo and then a 1930s big band was playing throughout our flat. It was amazing. The music pulled you right up out of yourself along with it, whether it was music for dancing or music for sitting still and being lost. And when it got to the clarinet solo I could hardly breathe. With the trumpets and the drums and everything behind it, it sounded even more beautiful.

My mum came home then, and when she heard the music, I think she finally understood. I don’t know how she did it but she convinced my step-dad to agree, I mean it wasn’t even like they would have to pay or anything.

Finally, I got my clarinet lessons.

The day they handed me my first instrument was one of the best days of my life. It was a beat-up old thing, second hand, and still the property of the school, but to me it was perfect. It was easily the most valuable item to have passed through my room, even if it wasn’t technically mine.

I thought that was it. I had found my calling and I would devote the rest of my life to music.

Of course, nothing is ever so simple.

The second ‘Eureka’ moment of my life came twelve years later. It was the night I rediscovered that love for music once more.

When you’re a kid things are simple. Your view of the world is more straightforward, your ideas of how things will happen are all very black and white. And then you’re sixteen and everything is suddenly very real and you can’t hide the fact you’re gay anymore and your piece of shit step-dad is kicking you out.

Bye-bye sixth form. Bye-bye future. Bye-bye clarinet.

The school took their property back, and that was that. I was so busy surviving, just trying to find a place to crash at night and get on my feet, I didn’t have a spare minute to remember what my original dream had been. It seemed like just that: a dream.

With the click of my fingers eight years had passed and I was twenty-four and only just settling into adulthood, only just realising that actually I hated getting black-out drunk and knocking back some unknown drug and waking up on someone’s couch with a crick in my neck.

I’d been seeing this asshole named Jasper for a few years on-and-off. He couldn’t help himself, always falling into bed with new guys. I actually didn’t care about that aspect so much, I’m not one for jealousy, but it was the way he acted that got to me. He’d just disappear without saying a word and I’d know he was on some bender, high off his tits for a whole week and fucking whoever.

Then he’d be pissed if I didn’t want to sleep with him. Of course I wouldn’t want to fucking sleep with him, who knows what kind of STIs he might have picked up. I wouldn’t trust him to use protection anyway, let alone whilst he’s high.

We’d fight, we’d break up, I’d go out on some rebound hook-up or whatever, and then somehow a few months later we’d be back together again. It was stupid. I don’t know why we carried on like that so long.

The night in question was one of those nights when things were ‘off’ with Jasper and I was out looking for some stranger to take home with me and fuck out my irritation. I was drunk and hardly thinking, pressing some random tall guy against the grimy club wall and sucking his tongue into my mouth, the horrible techno bass re-writing my heart beat and swallowing my ears into a buzzing emptiness.

Leaving was a blur, and then suddenly the streets got real quiet as we turned a corner and left Soho behind. Just like that I sobered up, hating how loud the quiet seemed between us.

In the amber street lamps, I saw that he was actually a really attractive guy: strong nose and cheekbones like a whiskey-drinking american dream. His hair was dirty blonde and was long enough to tie back in a bun, an 80s rock star wannabe.

“Is it far to yours?” he asked, breaking the silence. His words curled around his vowels in an lilting accent I had never heard before.

“Not far. Ten minutes, tops.”

He nodded, and seemed to struggle to find what to say next. I rolled my eyes in anticipation of more small talk. I clearly was not drunk enough.

“I didn’t actually catch your name,” he said.

“Levi. You?”

“Erwin.”

I kept my pace brisk, not wanting or needing to exchange more about myself. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him open his mouth to ask more, but abruptly we both stopped, caught by a wave of low sound seeping out of a darkened shop-front just ahead of us.

A lone saxophone. Tenor, from the sounds of it. Deep, rich, and full of feeling.

The solitary melody was captivating and beautiful, and there it was once more: it was like I was twelve years old again in that Main Hall in the school, hearing real music for the first time.

Even with my ears still ringing from the heartless beat of the club, even after so many years without music in my life, even with all the shit I’d gone through, I was just as awe-struck. It was like the very cells of my body were singing along with the sad and wonderful song.

It was many minutes before I became aware of my surroundings once more, and remembered that I was not alone. Startled, I glanced at my companion.

I was pleasantly surprised to see an expression on his face that was very close to what I was feeling. His mouth was open, his eyes shut, a picture of peace.

The song came to an end and his eyes opened, meeting my gaze.

We stared at each other.

He smiled.

The corner of my mouth tugged upwards, threatening to turn into a full-on smile which would mirror his. I had this surging feeling like something really important had just happened, a moment I needed to remember and carve into my memory permanently.

“Do you mind if we just stand here for a bit? I’d like to savour that,” he said, echoing my thoughts.

“Sure.”

He leaned back against the brick wall beside the dark shop front and folded his arms across his chest. I stood there, wanting to enjoy the moment, but feeling uncertain as I usually did around new people. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

“I forget sometimes, what music can be,” Erwin said, “But just now, whoever that was playing in there...That’s what it’s meant to be, you know? It just makes you forget all the shit…” he trailed off, eyes unfocusing, clearly thinking about something. Who knows what kind of crap he was going through or remembering.

I knew better than to ask.

“There was a time when I thought I’d devote myself to music.” I’m not normally one for sharing, so I surprised myself when I told him this. The music must’ve got to me, shaken me up so I was looser than usual.

“You still could,” said Erwin, “I started late, myself. Only discovered my love of it in my first year of college. I ended up dropping out so I could keep playing.”

“That’s nice.” I kicked myself. I sucked at conversation.

“I’m just saying, it’s never too late. For all you know you could live to be a hundred. Could still do anything between now and then.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Isn’t it? If you wanna make music, make music. If it adds something to your life, make it a part of your life. No?”

I looked at him then. Really looked at him. He looked back, his expression sincere. He really did mean what he had said. My mouth twitched again into something like a smile.

I’m not sure we said much else after that. For what seemed like a long time, we just stood there bathed in orange lamp-light and the ghostly echoes of that sad, beautiful saxophone, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I appreciated that. The moment stretched on. It was comfortable, companionable.

For the first time in a long time, I thought about my future.

Part of what made that night so beautiful was that I knew I’d never see that guy Erwin again. We didn’t end up going back to mine, I was too sober and too tired in the end. He gave me his number but we both knew I wouldn’t call. Why ruin a beautiful memory by getting to know him and realise he was actually a complete dick? That was my thinking, anyway.

London’s a big place. It’s rare to cross paths with anyone by chance.

Rare, but not impossible.

The reason I started thinking back on all this was because last night I ran into him again, and what do you know, it was music that brought us together. Of course.

Perhaps I should explain how much has changed since the first time I met him. In the last six years I think I’ve actually started to figure some shit out. I mean, I got sober, which was the best thing I’ve ever done. I left Jasper, a close second best.

Then there’s just other ways I’ve started to build a decent life for myself. I started the little tea stall I’d always dreamed of, ‘Sobrie-tea’: late-night tea for those who want to drink something non-alcoholic, and when I’m not doing that I’m helping out at my best friends’ bookshop. Izzy and Fu run this little queer independent bookshop in Brixton, and the three of us live just above it in this tiny apartment full of plants.

But most importantly, I started making music again. After that second Eureka moment with Erwin, it only took me a few months to save up enough for a nice, second-hand clarinet, and it’s kind of amazing how much you can teach yourself with YouTube these days.

I practised like Hell. Every day for at least an hour. I was addicted. I loved it. And then Izzy bullied me into getting up on stage at the open jam at Little Nick’s on Tuesdays. Shit just stuck. I started meeting people, playing music with others.

There’s really nothing like it: when you’re completely in sync with several other people, all of you going freestyle, only loosely sticking to the melody line but otherwise just improvising. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt. It never gets old. We go for hours.

My little group plays two nights a week now at Little Nick’s. We don’t get paid all that much between us, but that’s not really the point. It’s a chance to play, to create, and we bring in an awesome little crowd that loves us.

Sometimes I would think about that one night. About Erwin and sitting there basking in the aftermath of beautiful music. I would wonder if maybe I should have called.

I only ever told Hange about that night. Hange’s our crazy scientist friend. They’ve got like two pHds, which is pretty nuts, and yet you never feel stupid around Hange, you know? They talk to everyone the same, roping anyone who’ll listen into their wild theories and latest experiments searching for the cure to cancer or whatever, but always happy to take the time to explain it all in layman’s terms so you can follow along.

Hange’s very much a work hard, play hard kind of person, and we’re always telling them they need to just relax sometimes. That’s how they roped me into going to a fucking metal concert with them last night.

Seriously though, a metal concert. I hate metal. It’s almost as bad as this shit they play on the radio.

Hange went on and on about what this would mean to them, a good break from work and stuff (even though I’m pretty sure metal concert falls into the ‘play hard’ category and not the ‘relax’ category), and what with Izzy and Fu on holiday I didn’t really have any excuse.

So there we were, we’d made it into the grimy, dark old warehouse on the outskirts of town and horrible sounds were blasting out at us over the huge speakers as the warm-up act got going. The place was pretty packed, the floor sticky underfoot. It was, in short, disgusting. Not my kind of venue. Not my kind of night out. But this wasn’t about me, it was about Hange, and Hange was over the moon.

Their favourite band of all time was finally back together after a three year hiatus! I attempted and failed to give a shit, but let Hange rant away anyway. I wasn’t exactly familiar with the Norweigan metal scene, or any metal at all to be fair. I just couldn’t for the life of me see the appeal, no matter how many times Hange tried to play me songs they thought I’d like. It’s the screaming I can’t stand. It’s just a wall of noise. It’s as far from the elegance of jazz as you can get.

Hange weaseled our way to the front, their hand in a vice-like grip on my arm to pull me after them. I cursed as some idiot spilled some of his beer on me, and tried to suppress the wave of anxiety skittering along my skin at having so many bodies so close, nose wrinkling at the heavy smell of sweat and unwashed hair.

Just as we reached the front, the low lights suddenly cut out. A hush descended over the whole room as several hundred people fell silent at once, bathed in darkness. The press of people behind me fell away as every sense floated, waiting, a hundred bodies holding their breath.

It started gentle. The zing of a synth that would run under your skin; static electricity as sound. The sound grew, harmonies of distorted strings layering and layering, the sound panning lazily throughout the room like a rolling, bumbling giant of ambience. Pulling at us from the feet up, it built and built, swirling, taking its time.

And then the bassline started.

There it was. That sweet euphoria that hits when suddenly all the textures would align, several instruments coming together all at once just right. I never expected that euphoria there, in the first few minutes of a metal concert.

Fuck, was all I could think as the bassline pierced through the wild synth like a knife straight through my body, pulling my skin away from my bones.

BOOM BOOM! Lights flared up in time with the bass drum, only to disappear again and leave us subject to that otherworldly bass again. Another minute more just building, the sound growing and I could taste it in his mouth, aching for the huge crashing entrance I knew was around the corner.

Sharp as a slap, the snare came in, 1 2 3 4! And then the lights came on just as the music flared up into life, suddenly fast as anything: a jolt of pure adrenaline. I hadn’t felt a high like it in years. I gasped as I was crushed forward against the barrier, the metal digging into my gut as the crowd behind me jostled and pushed. The part of me that was disgusted was dimmed by the part in rapture; the soaring vocals and incredibly complex guitar lines all winding around the insistent drums and pulling at me until I was hardly myself.

Blurry with the sheer rush of it, it was only after that wild first chorus that I got a good look at the band themselves.

All four members were tall, tattooed, and with a lot of hair. The drummer was shirtless, his long hair dyed bright purple and green. On guitar was a woman with hair shaved along one side, all the better to show off her numerous ear piercings. The lead singer and synth-player had one of those distinctive, not-quite-attractive faces that models often have, his nose a bit too big, his eyebrows much darker than his hair.

And then I turned my gaze to the bassist.

It was him.

It was Erwin.

His hair was shorter, falling just past his ears and he’d grown a wild and rugged beard. The slight wrinkles around his mouth suited him, as did the subtle tan. I couldn’t look away. The source of the most insane basslines I’d ever heard in my life was none other than the man who’d helped rekindle my greatest passion.

The rest of the concert passed by like a dream. It was like I was floating: bathed in the intricate music, yet tethered to Erwin, my gaze locked on him in fascination. What were the odds?

Finally, time seemed to start back up again. The music came crashing to a huge halt, hungry silence hovering in the air. The lead singer spoke to the audience for the first time, how pleased they were to be playing again and some other stuff, but I was hardly listening, still looking at Erwin.

I jumped when the house lights came up, blinking as the audience was suddenly flood-lit with orange warmth.

When I looked back again, Erwin was looking right back. Directly at me. His mouth had fallen open in recognition.

“Levi, oh my God,” Hange said loudly in my ear, “Levi! Erwin’s staring right at you,”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“No, Levi, I’m pretty sure he’s staring right at you. He looks kind of shocked actually. What’s up with that?”

“No idea…” I said, hoping to leave it at that. I had the strongest urge to flee. My legs were shaking slightly as I suppressed a wave of panic.

“I’m gonna go for a piss,” I told Hange, ignoring their protests and further Erwin-related questions and finally broke away from that intense gaze staring down at me from the stage. I was relieved when the house lights finally went down.

On the walk home we were quiet. Hange was clearly itching with questions but was battling with themself to keep them at bay, knowing how I could get. I appreciated that. At the same time, the awkward silence was dragging on, and it was another forty minutes until we reached my place.

“Hange, spit it out.”

“What happened back there, Levi? Come onnnn, you can tell me. You totally disappeared for the last few songs after Erwin was staring at you. Do you know him or something?”

I stewed on my words for several paces, battling with my constant desire to never tell anyone anything.

“He’s the guy,” I finally mumbled.

“What guy?”

“From that night. The night I decided to start making music again.”

Hange stopped in their tracks.

“Holy shit. For real? The guy? The one I said you should have married right then and there?”

“Jesus Christ Hange. I’m not marrying anyone. But yes, that guy.”

“Oh my God...Oh my God, Levi.”

“Yeah.”

“So why the fuck did you just run off like that, huh? You could have totally stuck around, found a way to get his number or something.”

“No way. It just wouldn’t have happened.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even try. Maybe you’re the one that got away for him too, you know? Maybe he was staring because he was like, happy surprised to see you again.”

“Nah, I don’t buy it. Look, at best he might’ve wanted to hang out with me or whatever, and then I meet up with him and just like that, turns out he’s an asshole. That’s what happens when you get to know most people, ok?”

Hange chewed on their lip for a bit, a myriad of expressions crossing their face. I imagined they were working through a range of possible responses, clearly unhappy with my words.

I started walking again, keeping up a brisk pace as if to physically move past the conversation. I’d made my decision, the same one I’d been making since Jasper. Most people were just not worth the effort.

Finally, I heard Hange start walking behind me, quickly catching up. After a few more minutes, they launched into a completely unrelated rant about the next research project they were going to work on, and that was that.

I’ll add the memory of that concert to my very short list of happy ones, and I’ll forget about Erwin again.

I’ll move on.

#shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #eruri #erwin x levi #levi x erwin #levi ackerman #erwin smith #aot #fanfiction #musician #AU

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