#his description of the devil as a white man in a suit and tie coming to offer the speaker a bad deal is sooooooooooooooooo

[waitingforminjae]

just discovered colter wall and wanted to know if you’ve listened to him sinse you’re into country 👀 he’s got a bery cool voice, someone said his music was more of a hobby and he mainly worked as a farmhand

omg yeah!!!!!!!!! i've got two of his songs in my playlist omg

but beyond that i haven't listened to him much, so I'll have to check out more of his stuff! i rlly like these two songs a lot ❤️

[defaulttwig]

Findings in the Rain

Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Summary: Twice you had strange encounters in the rain. The first time, you came upon a man sitting on a bench. The second time, you found the devil.

WC: 4.2k

Warnings: injuries, stitching, no romance (maybe if you squint), unedited garbage

A/N: forgive any wildly inaccurate medical descriptions lol. No amount of research will get me to the level of actual medical experts. I might write a second part someday with actual romance to tie this all together.

There was a time when you cared about the rain. It could ruin your hair, your makeup, or your clothes. You would need to carry an umbrella. Hide under awnings of different buildings and scurry home as fast as you could. That was before you saw him. It was another rainy day. You had just left work after working yourself up behind the safety of the glass doors. Slipping out the door, you opened your umbrella and raised it over yourself. Deep breaths. You stepped further past the threshold. The rain fell against the umbrella, but you were by no means completely safe from stray droplets. They splattered against your ankles. Cold kisses pressed to your skin that chilled you to the bone. All the more reason to walk faster. You kept your head down as you walked. From time to time, you’d glance up and watch for strangers. Too often have you bumped into others, and doing so in the rain might falter your grip on your umbrella. Today wasn’t special, but the heavy rain had lightened up. From a downpour, it lifted to a light drizzle. The rain’s light mood gave you an idea. You were not fond of rain, but today you took the long route home. A drizzle couldn’t dampen your spirit like a downpour. You never took the long route home in the rain before. Everything was different, more serene. You had never taken the time to pay attention to your surroundings in such a way in the rain. Like stepping through a mirror, the city seemed different. It became a different sort of hectic.

The path you took had few people cross you. It was just you, the passing cars that cruised through puddles and caused a splash on sidewalks, and the sounds of rain. Perhaps, rain wasn’t all that bad for this.

You crossed through a park. As your eyes scanned the scenery around you, you took in how the rain painted everything with a new shade of emotions. The leaves of the trees bounced with every rain droplet. Further ahead, without an umbrella in sight, a man sat on the bench. You thought nothing of it, only that he was one of the silly people to be caught in the rain. Perhaps he thought he could beat the downpour, but gave up the moment he got soaked.

It wasn’t until you neared the bench that you saw him clutch a cane. A white cane. Your gaze lifted from his hands, traveling up his form. He sat tensely, that much you could tell. His head tilted slightly to the side, like he was listening for someone. He wore glasses tinted red, water droplets rolling down the spectacles like tears would.

The suit he wore, which once might’ve been nice, had now been completely drenched. It sagged against his form. The man hadn’t moved from his spot, simply sitting. You almost thought he was at peace, enjoying the rain similarly to you. Except, you didn’t miss the way he clutched the cane tighter as you walked. How his hands twisted over the cane with the slightest bit of nervousness, cautious.

You bit your lip, unsure what to do. Every possible scenario ran through your mind. Help the man, or not. He seemed wary enough of your presence already, if you could assume he was tense because of you. Decidedly, the rain had been more generous to you than him. The least you could do was help. Or, offer it. For peace of mind.

Your steps slowed as you neared him. You weren’t sure how close to stand, but held your umbrella enough to protect both of you from the elements. No longer pelted by droplets to his torso, he turned his head to you. His jaw squared. You wondered if coming to his aid had been a mistake.

“Looks like somebody got caught in the thick of it,” you said.

There wasn’t much to say. All you wanted to do was give him your umbrella. Now, as you stood over him, the silliness of your decision washed over you. He was soaked. Your umbrella could do little much else for him.

He smiled, though, and it was the smallest bit of encouragement for you. His shoulders relaxed the slightest bit and he inhaled deeply. He turned his head the slightest bit away, his ear promptly aimed at you. Your eyes followed the curve of the temples of his glasses, over to the frames. His eyelashes fluttered against them as he blinked.

“I guess so.” He let out a sigh. You took note of his voice. A low timbre, smooth as honey. The kind that would lull you to sleep in the late hours of night. “My luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

You glossed over his features. Up close, you could make out the curve of his jaw. His dark hair matted to his forehead, thanks to the rain. The fullness of his lips as he smiled from your comment. Stubble dotted along the lower half of his face. You had to admit, he was handsome. It made you wonder what he looked like when he wasn’t drenched. Likely, double the amount of handsome.

He tilted his head. Your heart hammered in your chest now that you could feel an inkling of infatuation take hold of you. You forced yourself to maintain your composure and steadied your breathing. Biting your cheek, you took a deep breath in.

Without much ceremony, you held out your umbrella. Rain started to collect on the shoulders of your jacket, but you paid it no mind. The man remained oblivious to your action. You realized this after a beat of silence.

Averting your eyes briefly, looking at the ripples of water in a puddle, you cleared your throat. “I’d like you to have my umbrella.”

“You do?”

He lifted one hand from his cane. Unsteadily, he waved his hand in the direction of your voice. Despite the clumsiness of his action, something about the way he moved felt certain. His knuckles brushed against your fingers. He kept his skin in contact with yours. Sliding his hand until his fingers brushed your own, he frowned slightly. He pinched the stem of the umbrella, his hand over yours.

For the briefest second, you marveled how your hand dwarfed under his. There was a tenderness to his touch. And his hand was rough as well. Warm, too, in a comforting way. If your breath hadn’t stuttered from the action, you would have felt at ease.

“Yes.” Would he reject the offer? You hoped not. Embarrassment sat on your shoulders, dampening your determination and ready to eat at you after this encounter. “I think you need it more than I do.”

His smile returned. “What gave you that impression?”

You gaped. His light chuckle stole your breath. Of course, he made a joke. You smiled back despite yourself.

“Call it intuition.”

“Well, your intuition is kind.” His thumb rubbed against the stem, brushing over your skin and leaving prickles of warmth. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, the flutters of their wings tickling you the way he had. “I don’t think it’s necessary at this point, though.”

No, maybe not. You could see what he meant. What more could the rain do to a man already soaked to the bone? Still, you insisted.

“Better to have a little protection now, than never.” You shrugged slightly. “Won’t dry you off, but can fend off any more rain.”

He hummed. “I guess so.”

Your smile faltered. You lightly pressed the umbrella further into his grip. Droplets of rain coated your hair, yet to mat it down.

“Have it. I don’t need it.” You added, “I live close by.”

He remained still. “Do you?”

Not really. You still had a few blocks to walk. Still, you wanted to do one good thing today, even for a man already taken by the rain. You could live without an umbrella.

“I do.” Your heart raced as you answered.

His expression soured the tiniest bit. “If you need it-”

“I don’t. Not now.” You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh rain. “In fact, I like the rain.”

This wasn’t necessarily a lie. The long walk brought some sort of revelation to your eyes. Sure, you could rush through the rain and hurry home, but taking your time in a light drizzle had led you to him. Who knew what else you could find in the rain.

He began to pull the umbrella toward him. Slowly, you let it slip from your fingers. He smiled at you and your heart sang. Already, your spirits lifted. He gave you a small nod and held the umbrella over himself.

“Thank you.”

+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+

It rained again today. You’d made it back to your apartment after work. It became normal for you to take the long route home. Not even a downpour could rush you. After all, you were headed home. What more could the rain do to you when you’d be safe under the roof of your apartment? If you got drenched, you’d just shower.

It’d been a few weeks since your encounter with that man. You bought a new umbrella a few days after giving him yours. It was small, collapsible. Easy to carry. You had half a mind to buy a second one. For a stranger, if you happened upon one like the guy in the park. It was an impulse buy, you knew. Now, a second umbrella’s wrist strap had been hooked onto your coat rack, waiting for the day you take it out.

It wouldn’t happen though. You grimaced at the idea of carrying two umbrellas in public. The sight would be odd and you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. If anything, you’d give away your umbrella, on hand, again, and leave the spare for yourself.

You thought too much about giving away umbrellas recently.

The rain stopped an hour ago. Currently, you curled up in your arm chair, nestled by the window. Book in hand, you glanced over from time to time at the puddles under the streetlights. They remained still, motionless.

Earlier today, you found your cabinet empty of coffee grounds. You meant to buy some last weekend, but forgot until now. Tomorrow was a Sunday, your day off, and you could wait until then, but you wanted the satisfaction of having coffee grounds for your morning cup already there.

The weather forecast said it would rain again soon. Right now, though, you calculated the nearest convenience store. If you were fast, you could make it in time before the rain came.

Already on your feet, you set your book down on the end table. It wasn’t often you took a spontaneous, late-night endeavor. You could go for a change. The added thrill of could you make it before the rain spurred you further.

Fastening your coat, you slipped your shoes on and made sure you had everything you needed. On your way out, you slipped your umbrella’s strap over your wrist. Just in case.

You wondered how that man was. If he used your gifted umbrella today at all. If he forgot it and got caught in the rain again. What his name was.

You wished you learned his name.

+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+

Matt should’ve been more careful. He was in over his head. He became impulsive, letting his emotions get the better of him. His labored breaths accompanied his stagger out of the warehouse.

They got away.

As if he couldn’t have been pissed off any more.

He clutched his side. Their blades did a number on him. He’d made the mistake to take them all on. If he had just been more careful.

He’d made it to an alleyway far from the warehouse. His boot fell heavily into a puddle, splashing water. He ignored it, using the nearby wall for support. The hand not clutching his side grasped weakly at the wall. He was growing tired. Not a good sign.

It started to pour rain just as he slid down the wall. He’d made it far enough. He’ll just catch his breath.

The back of his head humped against the wall. Lolling it to the side, the horns of his helmet scratched against the brick. Pain flared in his side and he winced, hunching forward.

Then, he heard it. Somewhere, past the loud drops of rain, he heard the sound of water bounce off an umbrella. It was anybody’s guess if someone had followed him. He didn’t sense anyone nearby before the rain began.

Then again, he was too busy trying not to collapse from his wounds to pay attention.

The noise was at the other end of the alley. For a long second, the noise remained in its place. The umbrella had yet to move towards him or walk off. He was sure it had to be one of them. Ready to finish the job.

The air shifted. The umbrella tilted slightly. He sensed the water droplets bounce off at an angle.

Then, it started toward him. Blending into the sounds of splattering rain all around him, but distinct. Faint, but traceable.

He tensed. The umbrella drew nearer. His hands balled into fists and he struggled to get up. He was in a hell of a vulnerable state, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The umbrella halted as he let out a grunt from trying to get up. His side flared up and he winced, clutching it. He set back on the ground uselessly.

The umbrella advanced faster. This time, he could hear a rustle of plastic. He tilted his head and focused on that. The sense of danger fizzled from him, listening to it. Now, the person hovered over him with their umbrella blocking the rain. As they crouched, he furrowed his brows.

The rain pelted a plastic bag that held a single container of coffee grounds.

+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+:+

You set the bag on the ground. Hesitantly, you reached out but froze with your trembling hand outstretched before his form. Your heart raced, breathing unsteady. You weren’t sure what to do.

When you left the store, it’d started to rain. You knew you couldn’t beat the rain but you didn’t think you’d find a set of horns on a slumped figure in an alleyway. It froze you when you realized it had to be the devil of Hell’s Kitchen, the man on the headlines.

Of course, you thought he was unconscious, at first glance. You approached to help him, but froze again as you saw him shift and struggle to stand. What if he hurt you, like some sources said? He was a vigilante who targeted criminals, but you could never trust a man who resorted to violence.

But, he slumped back in his spot, clutching his side, and you knew you had to help him. The revelation made you rush to him. Now, here you were with your umbrella held above the two of you, crouched in front of a dangerous man. Would he accept your help?

Your hand fell back to your side. You balled your hand into a fist, swiping your thumb over your knuckles. What could you do for him?

He let out a pained breath. “Who are you?”

Of course, he intimidated you. Without hesitation, you gave your name. Not that it mattered in the eyes of a stranger, or someone like him. You shook your head and backtracked your response. “I'm nobody, though. Just someone passing by.”

Just from the sound of your voice, he cocked his head. His lips downturned. “Have I met you before?”

You did a double take. “I don’t think so? I’d remember if I met a man dressed as the devil before.”

He weakly smiled. Then, he muttered to himself, as if he made a connection. “The umbrella.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that. “Do you think I’ll whack you with it?”

Or, if he’d take it from you and whack you with it. Again, he was a dangerous man. You just walked over with a potential weapon for him to use. And you’d heard word around the mill that he was creative with weaponry.

Despite his pain, he laughed weakly. “No. I don’t think so.”

The wince he made and the clutch to his side pulled you back to the situation at hand. “You need help.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look or sound fine.”

He shook his head. “Flesh wounds.”

You bit your cheek. Adjusting the umbrella in your grip, you looked into the eyes of his mask. Or, where there would be eyes. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” he barked out. At your startled lean back, he softened his tone. “Don’t. It’s better off this way.”

“You’re hurt, though. Badly.” An idea came to mind. An incredibly risky and stupid idea, but you couldn’t stand around and let the man die. “I live close by. At least, let me get you out of this rain.”

For a beat, he didn’t answer. Your breathing steadied, heartbeat thumping steadily. Determination grounded your nerves. You really did live close by, too. If you could just get him there.

“Can you stand?” You weren’t going to give him a chance to deny your offer.

He exhaled deeply. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

You picked up your bag of coffee grounds. Just as you reached out to help him, you realized how difficult it’d be to help him with an umbrella in hand. Quickly, you folded it and shoved the little thing into your bag. With effort on both your parts, you wrapped his arm around your shoulders and helped him stand. The devil man used the wall for support.

It wasn’t until there was no more wall to support him did you realize how much more work you’d have to put in to keep him upright. The plastic bag brushed loudly against your coat as you shifted your grip on him. Slowly, but surely, you managed to walk with his stumbling form.

By the time you made it up to your apartment, luckily avoiding the neighbors, you both were drenched. Your clothes clung to your form, and your hair stuck to your face, but what mattered was that you got him safe inside. You weakly shut the door behind you both and walked him over to the couch. He slumped over the second he sat down, melting into it.

You hurried to the bathroom and dug around for your first-aid kit. Once you had it in hand, you rushed out of the bathroom, only to slip on the way to the devil. You fell with a loud thump that startled him. Wincing, you picked yourself back up and joined him on the couch.

He turned his head to you as he clutched his side. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. You just humiliated yourself in front of a stranger. The devil, no less. Curse your sopping wet shoes and socks.

Back to the current crisis. You popped open the kit, but the man reached over and pulled it toward himself. He set the kit on his lap and you furrowed your brows.

“I can do this myself.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tried to lift his armored top off with one hand. You could only watch for an agonizing second. Silently, you reached over. When he didn’t object, you helped lift the top off, mindful of his mask. It was a struggle, but you made it work.

You set the wet top on the cushion. This couch was done for. As your eyes trailed over his torso, you grimaced at the amount of bleeding cuts he had. They most certainly did not look like flesh wounds.

He clutched the kit and clenched his teeth. You decided you would help him. Briefly, you left his side to retrieve a rag. Once you were back, you began to clean the wounds. He settled down, rummaging through the contents of the kit.

It was when he revealed the suture needle and thread with shaky fingers that you realized he could not do this on his own. Gently, you pushed his hands aside. There was no way you could watch him struggle to stitch himself together. Not that you ever expected to do this yourself either.

“I can do this myself,” he repeated again in a pained breath.

You shook your head. “I’m not letting you.”

The materials had been sealed away. You broke the seals and prepared yourself for an impromptu operation. You’d never had to stitch a man back together. The most experience you had with needles had been patchwork on some old clothes. There had to be a difference between clothes and a person. No time to learn, though.

You started with his most obvious injury, the gash in his side. Holding the suture needle with a needle holder, your fingers brushed over his side as you brought it closer. He leaned back, stretching his stomach to you. The moment the needle pierced his skin, he gripped the back of your couch and winced.

You muttered an apology under your breath. “I don’t have anything to numb the pain.”

He forced out a calm breath. “It’s fine.”

You did your best to work diligently. Dabbing away blood from the wound before you went back to stitching. Every wince and hiss of pain that spilled into the air crushed your heart. You did your best to keep this as short as possible for him, but knew that you couldn’t rush through this.

When you closed the gash, you almost smiled in relief. The worst of it had been done. He weakly finished the patchwork there by applying a gauze pad over the stitches. You worked on the rest of his cuts with a bit more ease. The stitching was clumsy, but you made do with what you could.

When all was said and done, you closed the first-aid kit. You’d worry about cleaning or throwing stuff away later. Right now, you wanted to keep a close eye on the devil.

He leaned back into the couch, breaths pained but certainly more relaxed than when you first found him. You melted into the couch as well. Your eyes trailed over the lower half of his face, admiring his slight stubble. There was a strange sense of familiarity as you studied his face.

He started to say something. You didn’t pay attention. Without the edge of immense pain in his tone, his voice was strangely pleasant. All your energy had been sapped trying to fix him. You turned onto your side and curled your legs up. Eyes drooping open and closed, you focused on the rise and fall of his chest, on the way his lips moved as he spoke.

A knock on the door jolted you awake. You sat up, instantly wincing at the pain in your neck. Rubbing it, you noticed sunlight filtering in through your window. The knocking repeated and you quickly stood. From your lap, a blanket crumpled to the ground.

When did you get a blanket?

You looked at a largely stained and ruined portion of your couch. Void of a certain vigilante. You could only assume he left.

At the latest knocking, you hurried to the door and opened it. On the other side, your neighbor and landlord, Ron, gave you a worried once over. He tended to be nosey. The man was tall, a bit on the bulkier side. He took in your appearance for what it was. A smell definitely emanated from you.

You both gave each other weird looks.

“I heard a thud last night.”

You thought about when you fell grabbing the first-aid kid. “I slipped. My shoes were wet from the rain.”

He raised a brow, no doubt concerned why you were out that late. It was when his eyes widened at your hands did you notice the red tint and bits of crusted blood under your nails. You hid your hands behind your back.

“Did you hurt yourself? Or, kill somebody?”

“Neither, Ron.” You bit your cheek. “Art project. I fell asleep without cleaning myself.”

“I’ll say.”

“Was that it?” You smiled awkwardly. You didn’t know how else to defer from this.

He looked you over. ”Tell your boyfriend that the fire escape isn’t for fun.”

“Huh?”

“Heard him leave your place earlier this morning.” Ron shook his head. “The building’s rules are to use those in an emergency only.”

“Right, thanks. I’ll pass on the message.” You faltered at his stern look, backtracking on your word. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s right.”

He left after that. You closed the door, rolling your head to rid the pain in your neck. With a sigh, you walked back to the living room. The guy had thankfully cleaned up most of your mess.

You stared at the couch, unsure how you’d replace that.

The sight of it cemented the fact you didn’t dream up the night before. You swiped a hand through your hair and sighed. The shock of it all slowly taking over you.

Who knew what you’d find in the rain.

[daresplaining]

Devil’s Reign #5 by Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto, Marcio Menyz, and Clayton Cowles

Full image description below.

[ID: A scene from the Devil’s Reign comic. Mike Murdock, wearing red sunglasses and a white suit jacket and pants over a blue collared shirt, eases open the door to Matt Murdock’s darkened apartment and peeks through.]

Mike: “What the hell...?”

[ID: A wide view of the inside of the apartment, with Mike standing in the doorway in the back. He is holding a cell phone to his ear. The apartment has been trashed. Debris and glass litter the tabletops and floor. The couch cushions have been slashed. The only light in the room is coming from the windows, just off-panel.]

Mike (into the phone): “#@$%! Butch! Pick up! Did you-- did you just trash my place looking for the stone?”

[ID: The view from inside a small rectangular wall vent as Mike pulls off the grate and peers in.]

Mike: “Phew. I don’t like how this #@$%’s come between us...”

[ID: He pulls out a small black bundle and holds it in his hand.]

Mike: “...But you’re my best friend. I don’t want to see you make a huge mistake. Call me back, man. Okay?”

[ID: A view from above as Mike holds the phone down by his side and looks at the bundle.]

Mike: “All right...now to figure out how to use it for this..."

[ID: He puts the bundle inside his suit jacket. A Kingpin-shaped shadow looms up behind him.]

Mike: “I bet that Dr. Strange guy has, like, a manual or--”

Fisk (caption): “Matt Murdock.”

[ID: Fisk grabs Mike-- his arm in one hand, his face in the other-- and throws him across the room.]

Fisk: “You. This is your fault!”

[ID: Mike is on his side on the floor, looking back at Fisk. His glasses are gone.]

Mike: “Hnnn...F-Fisk? Wh-- I don’t know what he’s planning...I sw--”

Fisk: “No more games-- Daredevil!”

[ID: Fisk grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall so hard that the wall cracks.]

Mike: “Wh...? N-not Daredevil...”

Fisk: “Pretending to be blind! Pretending to be a hero! While you violated all of our minds! I should have done this years ago!”

[ID: He draws back his fist. In silhouette, from a distance, we see him punch Mike very hard in the head. In the next panel, Mike is on the ground on his back, eyes open, unmoving and covered in blood.]

Fisk: “No more! You hear me?!”

[ID: Fisk starts punching. His face, clothes (black suit and tie, white dress shirt) and fists are spotted with blood.]

Fisk: “No! More!”

Kirsten (off-panel): “Stop!”

[ID: A view of the room, and Kirsten McDuffie standing in the doorway with her hand to her mouth. In the foreground we see Fisk from the shoulders down, one bloody fist clenched, holding the silhouette of Mike’s limp body by the collar.]

Kirsten: “Y-y-you...”

[ID: Fisk’s blood-spattered face, from Kirsten’s perspective. His teeth are bared. Drool drips from his mouth.]

Fisk: “No more.”

[streetharmacist]

Hole in the Earth | Javier & Felix

A trip to Devil’s Gullet. Maybe some things aren’t so unfounded.

With: @damn-fine-cup-of-tea

It took Felix a bit longer than expected to pick the right suit he wanted to wear. A spooky ominous cave outing a federal agent, of all people! It was a very exciting time and he could only wear the best. The fae opted for a dark grey tweed suit, off-white shirt, and maroon accents with the tie and buttons. If they were going to possibly get into some shady business at one of the biggest manufacturers of town rumors, he wanted to look nothing less than great. Rumors were important to the business. Straight from the source. He adjusted his tie, slipped on his glasses, and willingly made his way to the police station for the first time in what felt like thirty years. If Javier Sterling was going to be anywhere, that was the likeliest place. The agent might as well have declared that joint as his place of residence. The fae tipped the cab driver heavily. Smoothing down the front of his suit, Felix put on a bright smile and strolled in like it wasn’t the last place in the town he should have been going. “Hiya, hope the night’s been slow,” he greeted as the person at the front desk picked their head up. Arms loosely folded, he leaned against the counter. “Looking for an Agent Sterling. Is he poking around somewhere? We got a little thing to do, you know how it is.”

His tape recorder charging, his case files tidily stored in the middle drawer of his desk, the agent took a step back to look at his office. He noticed that he would have to wipe the window clean, because apparently, this was not part of the janitor’s duty. He put the pages of research publications he had just printed out into a paper folder, stuck a label 5 inches from the top of the front, right in the middle of it, and wrote neatly on it: Cephalopods and Maine. Of course he had not found a lot of people who had worked on these beasts living in the State and it already confirmed his idea that no, there was no reason for a squid to have taken up residence in Dark Score Lake. His phone started ringing, picking it up, he recognised the receptionist’s voice and warmly replied. By the description given to him, Javier could only guess that Felix had decided to come to the station. Now only he knew why he would think this was appropriate. Taking his beige coat from the rack, the agent opened the door and starting sliding it on, over his usual work uniform : a plain black wool suit, a crimson red tie, and enough details on both of them to suggest that those did not come from a rack. The shoes were not nearly as nice, but he had picked them to be comfortable and also allow him to run after someone without tripping or slipping too easily. A compromise had to be found. A man who looked way too overdressed for this usually neutral place stood out by the counter. Javier figured that this was him. His brows furrowed and he held out his hand to salute him. “Shall we get going, now?”

The fae chatted idly with the receptionist, who looked somewhere between too polite to end the conversation and like they had nothing better to do than to humor his musings. “You see, I never could really get behind these compact discs. If it’s not vinyl, I don’t really like mess--” Movement towards Felix had him picking his gaze up from the receptionist and slightly adjusting his posture. “Agent Sterling! Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, huh?” He said, the prior conversation completely forgotten as he flashed a wide smile. The receptionist didn’t seem too bothered by the turn of events. He stuck out his own hand and gave the man a firm but quick handshake. It was only polite, after all, and he had really been itching to meet the federal agent in town. “We shall. That sounds like a real swell idea!” The fae turned on his heels and retraced the steps he took earlier. “Gotta say, that’s one hell of a suit you got going on for you. Everyone else in the joint jealous that they just gotta stick with the boring duds?” Amused, he laughed a little to himself as he took in a deep breath at all the lovely night ahead of them. “Gotta tell you that I don’t know how to drive so you’re gonna be stuck driving me around. That alright with you?”

“Swell, of course,” he walked by the other man, a puzzled look lingering on his traits for a second. “Well thank you,” he adjusted his tie before holding the door open for the two of them. “I don’t think they are jealous. I think they should be proud of wearing this uniform,” he replied, although that was not entirely true. Uniforms were a good thing, but they never really suited anyone and he was glad that he got to pick his own clothes. Javier glanced up, looking at the night sky. With only a thin crescent of moon, they would certainly not count on the satellite for light. He was heading toward his car to get flashlights when he heard Felix say that he couldn't drive. “Of course, I just need to tidy up a little bit,” a bottle to the trash can later, the agent sat behind the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirror and his seat before even starting the car. Attaching his phone to the windshield, Javier entered the address into it and started driving. Now all he could hope for was for Felix to be a reasonable person.

“Well if it’s not swell, what else might it be?” Felix asked, lightly teasing. Geez, could the guy look anymore straight-laced? Stiff didn’t seem like a fair word. He nodded a thanks as he passed through the open door. The fae tried not to smile too sardonically. The history he had with those particular uniforms on anyone was definitely patchy. “Right, of course. All got a real important job to do and all. There’s plenty of pride to be found in a job well done!” Because if he had learned anything about White Crest, it was the stellar work of their police force. Javier didn’t need to hear his thoughts on that though. He eased into the car. Tried not to duck too noticeably even though his antlers wouldn’t be a problem with the glamour up. “Tidy up?” He repeated as he swiveled his head to look over it. He shrugged and sat back, remembering the seatbelt as he did. A car ride with a federal agent! The boys back in New York would laugh themselves sick. “So, Sterling. You done anything around the town that doesn’t got to do with work? Other than this whole thing, of course!”

“Peachy,” Javier allowed himself one thin smile. After all, the only way for him not to spend a long evening was to at least get along with the person he would be sharing it with although Felix’s reply concerning the police department left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Sure, a lot had to be improved in this department, but there were many detectives in there who really tried, and just like him, were confronted to something they did not understand. His conversation with Rebecca may have helped him see a bit of light, but it was his encounter with the squid that made him truly realise how bad things were in this town. “You know, if you think you can do better than them, they are hiring,” he drily replied. Moving onto the main road, the agent gave Felix a glance, wondering what exactly he meant behind his apparently innocent question. “I have. I especially like the lake. It’s so quiet,” he explained. There was no point in avoiding to talk about the place, even if he had avoided it so far. And yet, to go to the Gullet, the shortest road was the one that ran along the lake’s shore. “I also had pie with a university professor. You have been blessed with quite the bakery.” When all of this would be over, he would go buy himself another slice of that apple pie, he thought to himself. “But enough talking about me. Why are you so excited about going to the Devil’s Gullet ? You don’t really think he lives here, right?”

A warm, bright, and bubbly laugh spilled out of Felix like an opened champagne bottle. “Well, hell, he lives! You can joke,” the fae joked. “Peachy keen, even! Think you might really be onto something!” He never liked to be stuck in vehicles and he tried to keep his knee from bouncing too much. Space was what he preferred but he could tolerate it for the time being. At Javier’s suggestion, Felix framed his jaw with a hand and tapped his fingers against his cheek. “I don’t know if I’d cut it being one of the boys in blue,” he said, nothing but truthful. “But I’ll keep that in mind in case I’m wanting a change of scenery.” Before he lowered his hand again, he adjusted his red-lensed glasses and eased back into the seat. He ran a thumb along the tailored end of his suit jacket as he listened. “Not a big fan of noise, huh? This place can get real dang loud when it wants to.” His own actions could be attributed to that slight increase, but humility and a want to not incriminate himself kept him from saying as much. “You had pie, huh? How’d that go?” He tilted his head to glance over at Javier. When the questions fell to him, he smiled some. “I don’t mind talking about you, but sure, if you insist. The place has got a reputation and I like checking those kinda joints out. Guess it’s like a special little brand of tourism.” At the second question, he hummed thoughtfully. Looked out as they drew nearer to where the Gullet was. “No, I’m not the believing type if you catch my drift,” he said with a shake of his head. “But imagine if there was a devil or two there? I think we might all be goners.”

“I’m a human being, of course I can joke,” he shook his head lightly, as if what Felix had just said did not make any sense. They were nearly there, although they would probably have to walk a little before reaching the gullet. Javier was not surprised to hear an excuse of a reason concerning joining WCPD and making a difference. People were certainly quick to criticize, but when it came to offering solutions, they were atrociously silent. “I see,” he commented. Stopping the car by the road, the agent got rid of the seatbelt and turned to look at Felix. Sure, one could have said that he wasn’t fond of noise. He rarely listened to the radio, but enjoyed listening to music, or play music. He still had not had time to play the oboe since he had arrived, and he missed it. “Huh uh,” not entirely convinced by Felix’s word, he stepped out of the car, heading to the trunk to get flashlights. He considered leaving his gun in the car but decided against it. Shutting the trunk closed, he handed the largest flashlight to Felix and turned his own on, leading the way down to the Devil’s Gullet. The woods around them weren’t fully silent, but he chose to ignore it. Forest animals could stroll more easily at night, after all.

Felix shrugged, a lazy smile on his face. “Right, of course!” It made sense that the Gullet wouldn’t just be a place they could park at and get to from the street corner. Of course it would be in one of the shadiest corners that the town had to offer. He expected nothing less! As he got out of the car, he furrowed his brow some. He didn’t have any preternatural sense to divert him from danger but even he could sense that something was a little off with the area. Just wasn’t concerned enough with it to think about turning around. As Javier handed him the flashlight, he felt tempted to say he already had a pair. However, he didn’t think that would go over too well. The flashlight clicked to life. A gun wasn’t on him but he had more than a couple stiletto blades on him. Not that he planned on sticking anyone but you never knew. The fae stuck close to the agent as they walked, a low hum of an old song in his throat. “So, what are the odds that it’s just a real spooky hole and nothing else? You feel like making a bet?”

The agent bit his tongue, annoyance on his face as the man behind him started to hum. Couldn’t he be quiet just for one second? This was fine. He was not working right now. Speaking of, he would have to visit the Mime restaurant in the morning to discuss some very interesting things he had found out while digging in the old town files. It was neither related to his case, or to the squid, but each time Javier looked closely at something related to White Crest, it was almost always incredibly sketchy. “Have you ever been to the Mime themed places?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue. His torchlight aimed toward the floor, he stepped carefully over vines and stopped. “I suppose we will find out soon enough. I will bet you one piece of apple pie that it’s a spooky hole and nothing else,” without any warning, the agent started walking away, stopping by the edge of the pit. The place had certainly not stolen its reputation of being bottomless and unsettling. For all the experience he had gathered, you could tell, from the look he had on his face, a look of concern and unease, as he glanced up blankly at Felix, that Javier might have actually already lost his bet.

The fae made a sound of disgust, somewhere between a sigh and a groan at the mention of the mime-themed places. “You know, I’m really not too keen on those places. I know they give most people the heebie jeebies but they just really rub me the wrong way,” Felix said, wearing his first frown of the evening. “It might be worth looking into the history of those places, you ask me. Having that many in one town just doesn’t make a lick of sense.” As close as he was to Javier, he had to bring himself to a quick and abrupt stop to not bowl the both of them over. The mention of pie had him smiling again, all thoughts of mimes tossed out. “I’ve never bet on pie before. I got a friend you might like to meet. She’s real big on pie. So sure, slice of apple pie it is. I’m gonna hold you to that, you know!” He thought about sticking out his hand to shake on it but didn’t, considering the situation. When Javier started walking again, Felix took a moment to glance back down the path they had come. Without their beams, it was pitch dark. Leading all the way to the gaping hole like some kinda drain for bad things. Maybe the worst things. Nothing like what he had ever seen. He turned back and went to Javier. All smiles and frowns were gone, a face of neutrality on as he glanced between Javier and the hole. “Well, it sure is one hell of a hole,” he commented, one hand on his hip. He glanced at the agent. “You, uh, alright there, agent? I think it’s really just a hole but I can see why the locals might start spinning stories about it.”

“What I don’t understand is,” the agent looked as if he had spent quite some time thinking about this, without figuring it out, “Bo aside, I do not think I have met one person in favor of mimes.” And since he liked being thorough, he had asked all his suspects, witnesses and almost everyone he spoke to, about this. Including Felix now. “I would not be surprise to find that these are a front for money laundering,” the last part was him thinking out loud, although he did not suspect that Felix would pay much attention to that. “Is that so?” Javier had yet to meet someone who enjoyed pie as much as he did, although he could only get along with such a person. “I would love to meet your friend. Back when I was still a student I made a chart to grade pies, depending on the quality of the crust, and the taste of the filling,” he had always liked charts, and while his work never helped anyone but himself, he had still enjoyed making that chart, and he had done it with all the seriousness he was capable of for more important matters. Still, the pie had vanished from his thoughts the moment he had approached that hole. He did not want to believe that this place was evil, and yet. If thoughts of pie were gone, new thoughts had replaced them, but they were not his own, not quite. “Yes, I’m fine,” he wanted to frown, but instead, he smiled up at Felix, a smile that vanished as he heard a voice, coming from below, calling for help. Holding up his hand as if to ask Felix to shut up and stop moving, the agent pushed himself to the ground to listen closely. “There’s someone in there,” he glanced up at the man  then back inside the gullet, searching around with this torchlight. “Well that’s funny, there’s a path leading down there.”

“Thinking you might need to start looking into this Bo figure, agent?” Felix offered with a Cheshire grin, further enunciated by the shadows. Javier had a point though. A very good one. The fae had met next to no one that actually cared to have the mimes around. And if they did, he didn’t care to have them around. If it was money laundering, it was covered by one really convoluted gimmick. A tacky one. He couldn’t afford or abide by tacky, Kaden’s birthday party withholding. Pie was a better discussion topic than mimes and he was glad for the change. “Indeed it is! I’ll introduce the two of you after this little outing, she’s real swell. Her name’s Deirdre,” he said as they walked. The smile that warmed his face as he looked at Javier was genuine gold. A pie chart. He eyed the agent slightly and shook his head. Agent Sterling was serious about his pies. How endearing. Humans were wild. Terrible, but wild. “Had yourself a regular pie chart going, huh?” He laughed. Something in the distance startled. The shaking of a branch keyed him into just how silent the whole place was. A vacuum. A regular black hole punched out into a map that nobody could say they really understood. It was hard to match the agent’s smile when he looked at him. Wrong. Profoundly wrong. And coming from him, a proprietor of varying levels of wrong, it was something. When the agent held his hand up, Felix peered into the dark for just a second. His brow furrowed and he edged his glasses up to look at it with bare eyes. It was just darkness. It didn’t even move. It looked like pure nothingness. Nothingness that he could personally do without. That thrill from earlier dissipated. He traced where Javier pointed his flashlight with his own. “A path? It’s just a hole, Javier.” He didn’t see anything of the sort. “The heck you talking about? Pretty sure it’s just you and me here, Javier.”

“Aside from her cooking, she has committed no crime,” Javier had never liked clowns and other gimmicky forms of art, but now that he had mentioned cooking, he was more than happy to have it be the subject of their conversation. He personally was not much of a cook. He spent far too much time on the road to ever settle down and learn a thing about it. The only things he afforded to be picky about were tea, and his pie. “Deirdre ? That’s a great name. I look forward to meeting her.” Deirdre. The name was lovely, and he couldn’t help but repeat it a couple of times, like a child who just learned a new word. His brows furrowed however as Felix mentioned his chart. Oh. OH. “Believe it or not, but I didn't even use pie charts for my pie chart,” his laughter was genuine, although rare, and it felt very loud, in this eerily silent place. It was the silence which drew him back to the gullet. “You really don’t see it?” He looked up at Felix with his brows furrowed. Clearly the man was messing with him again, just like with the pie charts. “You’re being silly. Look,” once again, the agent pointed his flashlight toward the void, the emptiness of the gullet. “Here, a path. I have to see where it goes,” he took off his coat, and folded it carefully. Placing it on the ledge, he picked up his flashlight and took another look at the path that only he could see. The voice was heard again, although it seemed more distant than before, as if it had wandered away. 

“I really have to get in here, Felix,” he looked at the other man, a stern look on his face. Very few people would have dared to tell him not to go then. Worst case scenario, he would need a rope to get out, and he had some in his trunk. This would be fine. Carefully, the agent turned his back on the hole and left his feet to dangle in the gap first, hands holding firmly onto the edge. His flashlight tucked in his jacket, he pushed himself down, expecting to fall onto the path almost immediately, but a second passed and his feet did not reach the ground. Instead, he saw the pale light of the moon vanish above him. This bottomless pit did have an end to it, although the agent did not fall to the ground. He was caught. As the light of his flashlight lit his savior, and while the man had never been scared so easily, all Javier could do was scream, although then, it was too late. The aswang could sleep well, for the agent would no longer look for her.

Javier had a nice laugh. A real nice one. For a human, Felix reminded himself. Even then, he couldn’t help the way he lit up. All smiles. But then it was gone. The agent was saying a lot of nonsense. And, normally, the fae was fluent in nonsense. “Don’t think it’s me being silly here, Javier,” he said, nervous laughter slipping out like a thief in the night. “It’s really just a hole. Tell you what, I bet we can find a place that serves some late night pie and we can just get on outta here, huh?” Even as he talked, he could nearly sense the conviction in the agent. Damn human stubbornness. “Javier, buddy, what the heck kinda human nons--” The agent had started to lower himself into the hole. The bottomless hole. “The FUCK are you doing? ” Fingers slipped away and he was gone. A scream. Nothing. The light went out. Felix slowly took off his glasses. Stared at the dark. A darkness he didn’t want to wander into. That was a first. “Javier?” Nothing. Quiet. No. There was something. Slimy. He started to move. Grabbed the folded up coat and walked away. Quickly. The car keys burned his hands as he fumbled them, dropped them twice. As he sat in the dark of Javier’s car, hands around the wheel, that nervous laughter returned. He didn’t know how to drive.

[azritesx3]

What a Trick! What a Treat! - Lucifer Netflix

Description: This is the last time Trixie will be able to go trick-or-treating, and she's getting everyone involved!

Rating: Teen Warnings: Suggestive sexual theme

AN: A one-shot Halloween themed fic for the Lucifer FB group contest! Hope you all enjoy, and Happy Halloween! AN: Updated August 23, 2020 - Grammar. Reupload!

AO3 / Fanfic Net / Wattpad / DeviantArt

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

This year's Halloween will be the saddest for Chloe and Dan. The last one where their baby girl can still be considered a "kid" dressing up and getting candy.

Trixie couldn't be more excited.

Trixie has been waiting for this day to come ever since Maze told her about all the wonders of mischief night. Knowing that officially next year she can partake drove her bananas.

But, that doesn't mean Trixie was 100% happy about this being the last trick-or-treating for her. Who wouldn't miss all that free candy and cash [with Maze by her side, like always]? That's why, for this last kid-like Halloween, Trixie is getting everyone together to celebrate!

"I'd love to know how this little meeting ended up at my penthouse." Lucifer groans. He leans against his bar and downs a shot of his usual drink.

"Because you lost last game night and owed her one." Chloe chuckles next to him and nudges. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

"Your spawn is a cheater."

"Gee, thanks. Wonder where she gets it from."

"You're welcome." Maze adds in.

"All right everyone! May I have your attention please!" Trixie steps away from baby Charlie to stand in front of the TV. She smiles when everyone looks to her, "Since this is my last trick-or-treat night I want to make it extra special! I would like you all to come out walking with me wearing costumes I picked for you, and then enjoy a little after party at Mom's place!"

"Don't you have other urchins around your age to do this with?" Lucifer says.

"If you have questions or comments you have to raise your hand!" Trixie says with hands on her hips and a raised chin.

"Oh for the love of-" Chloe and Maze nudge him on either side. Trixie holds in her laughter. She loves pushing the Devil's buttons.

Lucifer raises his hand with an annoyed glare, "Yes, Lucifer?"

"Again, you little demon, why aren't you doing this with other urchins?"

"My friends are all too old already. Last year was it for the rest of them. Besides," Trixie looks back around the room and holds her arms out wide, "I'd much rather do this with you guys! You're more special to me!"

"Awww, and we love you too mini me!" Ella gushes. Her and Trixie fist bump the air.

"I'm sure everyone here would love to spend this Halloween with you, monkey." Chloe smiles. Everyone in the room, besides Lucifer and Charlie, smile and share their agreement.

"Awesome! Ok, so let me give you guys your costume pictures!" Trixie picks up her pink folder from the coffee table.

"Alright big me, I'd like you to be this!" Trixie hands Ella a piece of paper, "The family's crazy scientist!"

"Easy peasy!" Ella winks.

"Amenadiel, Linda, and little Charlie, here's your costumes!" Trixie walks over to the family and hands them their papers. Amenadiel chokes on a laugh, holds his paper up to Lucifer and the Devil almost dies of laughter.

"I think it's very cute, Trixie!" Linda says. She grabs Amenadiel's paper so she can hold the three pictures together: Zeus, Alcmene, and Hercules.

Amenadiel groans, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"These are for you Mommy and Daddy!" Trixie hands a paper to both of her parents. Chloe's is a 1940s noir detective while Dan's is a classic black pants, black and white striped shirt, and black eye mask criminal.

The two parents share a look. Obviously their daughter knows more than they thought.

"Here's yours Maze!" Maze takes the paper and stifles a laugh.

"What is it?" Lucifer tries to look over but his demon hides the paper away.

She smiles at him, "Oh, you'll see. You'll love it." She snickers.

"Annnd lastly, Lucifer!" Trixie proudly hands him the last paper.

He doesn't take it. He's too appalled.

"You can not be serious." He says down at the little girl while Maze laughs hysterically.

"Oh come on, Lucifer. It can't be that bad." Chloe says and looks at the paper. She stares at the image of a drawn man, "Who is that anyway?"

"It's Lucifer!" Trixie says happily.

"Fake Lucifer. Why would I want to be a fake me?"

"Because the kid loves the comics." Maze says and lays her paper on the bar counter for Lucifer to see. It's the comic Mazikeen in her battle gear with the half white mask.

"Seriously?" He says.

"Well, you don't lie so I picked something where you won't have to pretend!" Trixie pipes in, "I think you two are pretty similar."

Lucifer groans. He wasn't about to tell the little urchin that she was right.

"It's just for one night, Lucifer. Besides, I'm curious how different you'll look." Chloe says eyeing him up.

Dad be damned, "Fine, fine." Lucifer takes the paper from Chloe and crosses his arms. He looks away so she doesn't see the blush.

"Yay!" Trixie runs back to her original spot and claps her hands, "This is going to be so much fun! One week everybody!"

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

Chloe, Dan, and Trixie are out for family day shopping for Halloween supplies.

Since no one would be home in either house there was no need to buy candy, but of course they get just as much as they usually do. Dan takes Trixie to look at all the Halloween decor while Chloe strolls through the costume aisles.

Luckily, she finds the correct outfits for her and Dan, as well as more accessories for Trixie's last President of Mars costume.

Before she rejoins them something catches the detective's eye. She stares at a picture and remembers Lucifer's words.

"How about a skimpy detective?"

"I'm not walking around half naked, Lucifer."

"Then how about being naked under that humongous trench coat?"

"Lucifer-"

"Come on, Detective! Give me something to look forward to!"

Chloe smiles. She takes the costume and goes to the cashier to purchase it. Hiding it in her purse so Dan and Trixie don't see, she bites her lip in excitement.

Hope he doesn't get offended…

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

"I feel ridiculous." Amenadiel mutters at his reflection.

"I quite like it." Linda comes in. She's holding a dressed up Charlie and stands next to Amenadiel, "I think you look beautiful."

"You look beautiful, Linda. And so does our son." Amenadiel smiles. He caresses Linda's face and runs his fingers through her curled ponytail, then gives his son a kiss on the cheek.

"Lore conflicts aside, I think this is an amazing family costume." Linda says. She smiles cheekily and tugs on Amenadiel's robes, "Easy to remove too."

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

"Annnd...TA-DA!" Ella jumps into her living room and spins around. She has that classic crazy old white hair wig on, a white lab coat with huge black buttons, arm length black gloves accompanied with thigh high black boots. She also has safety goggles on her head, and her lab coat is splattered with multiple colors.

"What cha think!?" Ella waits excitedly for an answer.

Margaret clucks once, then returns to her dinner.

Ella sighs and mutters, "Bob would be impressed…"

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

"I am not dying my hair!"

"You're acting like it's actually permanent. News flash: you're the Devil. Your hair will be back to normal in the morning."

"No."

Maze gives an over dramatic sigh, "Had a feeling this would happen. You got three options Lucifer: you let me bleach and dye your hair," she points to the products on the bathroom counter, "you let me use this non-permanent spray stuff, but I got to use a shit ton of it to make your hair blond," she points to the ten sprays of blond color, "oooor you wear this." Maze pulls out a blond wig from her duffle bag.

"That looks horrendous."

"Yeah, well it's the only one I got. It itches too."

"...The sprays?"

"Will most likely make your hair more banana colored."

Lucifer lets out a frustrated growl, "Fine! Do the damn dye."

"You've become such a baby, I swear." Maze mutters, but quickly gets to work before he changes his mind.

Hours past and Lucifer is officially blond. He inspects himself in the mirror, "Not bad right?" Maze smiles.

"I don't see how blond is better…"

"'Cuz blonds are hot, Lucifer."

Lucifer just hums in response. Maze opens up the bathroom cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving cream. She shoves the two items into his hands:

"Start working on that baby face. I'm going to change into my outfit."

More time passes. Maze comes back into the bathroom clad in her old leather armor. She stares at Lucifer who is touching his clean shaven face.

"Smooth like a baby's bottom?" She jokes.

Lucifer, however, looks more somber, "More like back in Heaven."

"Ah…" Maze coughs. She rushes over and puts his arms down, "Here," she hands him a contact case containing blue colored contacts, "put these in so I can get started on that scar."

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

"You look amazing!" Trixie says to everyone as they enter her Mom's place. Each one also compliments her updated President of Mars outfit.

Everyone besides Lucifer and Maze are here, and Chloe gets a bit worried. She goes to text Lucifer when the door rings once more.

"Woooah!" Trixie says, mouth agape.

"Klein mensie." Maze says in her native tongue to Trixie. She smiles, a thing that looks eerie with the half mask on, and walks into the space.

"Holy cow! Lucifer! You look so different!"

"And it's all your fault, spawn."

Chloe speed walks to the open doorway and sees Lucifer. A different Lucifer. Pretty much the Lucifer from the comic come to life. He wore a simple black suit and tie, not too unusual, but coupled with the blond hair, blue eyes, face scar and clean face left Chloe speechless.

"Psst, mommy." Trixie pokes her, "You’re starting to drool."

Lucifer and Trixie laugh when Chloe's hand flies up to her face to wipe away the drool and shut her mouth. Trixie walks back to the living room so Lucifer can step closer to Chloe.

"I'm pleased all this torture hasn't gone to waste." Lucifer smiles seductively.

Chloe smiles back and steps into his open arms.

"Ok everyone!" Trixie yells while Lucifer and Chloe share a kiss, "Let's go get ourselves some candy!"

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

Trixie's last night of trick-or-treating went better than she expected. She received sooo much candy, and money thanks to Maze when her parents weren't looking, that she'll be set till next Halloween! When everyone returned to Chloe's place Trixie smiled warmly at how happy and carefree everyone looked.

No crimes to solve. No drama. No worries.

Amenadiel and Linda leave around 8 pm to get a very sleepy Charlie ready for bed. Dan leaves with Ella next when she tells him of a party she's going to. Chloe and Lucifer leave by 11pm to get ready for his own party.

Now Maze and Trixie were alone.

"Ready to start your first mischief night early, little human?"

Trixie smiles, all teeth, "Hell yeah!"

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

"So, you'll look normal again in the morning? That fast?" Chloe asks as she and Lucifer step into his penthouse.

"Good ol' angel genes, darling." He replies as he pours drinks.

"Hmm."

Lucifer looks at her, eyebrow raised in question, "Do you...like this look?"

"Not as much as your normal, no. But," Chloe runs her fingers through his blond hair, "it is...different." Lucifer closes his eyes and hums and the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

The two share a couple of drinks before the party officially starts downstairs. Feeling braver, thanks to the drinks, Chloe motions Lucifer to stand at the bottom of his stairs. She climbs up and stands in front of his bed.

"What are you planning, Detective?" Lucifer's smile is contagious.

"Your surprise."

Chloe slowly unbuttons her trench coat, taking in Lucifer's eyes following her movements. Once the last button is undone she shrugs off the coat while simultaneously throwing her fedora.

Lucifer sucks in air and slowly releases as his eyes roam her outfit. She was wearing a short tight red and black dress with fishnet tights. The top of the dress is cut dangerously low, showing much of her chest and stomach. She turns in a slow circle so Lucifer can see how the back bottom was basically a thong, with a classic devil tail attached.

When she faces him again one hand goes up to touch the horns on her head while the other slowly slides down her open chest, "So, what do you think?"

"I think," Lucifer stalks up the stairs, "that I'll never again be able to make fun of a devil costume thanks to you. Which means," Lucifer reaches her. He grabs her hair with one hand and tugs down, opening her neck to him. With the other hand he grabs her bottom.

His lips ghost over her ear, "you need to be punished, my delectable devil."

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 6: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

“The Grand Ballroom” was certainly an apt description. The marble dancefloor was inlaid with veins of gold and sparkling quartz, its flat surface so polished it hurt to look at. Plush, wine red carpet lined the perimeter, perfectly matching the cushions of elaborately carved loveseats and couches. Six-foot tall, solid gold candelabras were scattered throughout the room, the flickering flames dancing as gracefully as the guests. Enormous, stained-glass windows depicting hedonistic scenes stretched from floor to ceiling, the colored glass obscuring the view of the outside world. Burgundy velvet drapes trimmed in gold were artfully hung throughout the room, their heavy material casting deep shadows in private nooks perfect for illicit rendezvous.

To the side was a massive buffet, the tables straining under trays of assorted meats, exotic fruits, decadent pastries, tartlets, brie, beef wellingtons, deviled eggs, and more. A literal fountain of wine stood at the center of the smorgasbord, cherubs pouring the intoxicating liquid out of decanters into the guests’ crystal glasses.

The ceiling was the most impressive aspect, though. Above the crowd hung eight massive, golden chandeliers in the shape of octopi, each winding tentacle clutching a light the size of a human head. Multi-faceted crystals dripped off their bulbous bodies like drops of water, making it appear they’d just emerged from the sea and casting shards of light and prismatic rainbows dancing about the walls and floor.

Not to be outdone, the guests that milled about wore their finest costumes, with ballgowns, doublets, tailcoats, hats, capes, masks, and jewelry made from silks, satins, chiffon, precious gems, and exotic furs and feathers. Maids clad in short, tight, copper uniforms wove through the crowd, offering drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and petit fours. A small orchestra was set up in the far corner of the room, filling the air with their slow, elegant music.

It was exactly the kind of party that had Nami salivating. Rich men with thick wallets and wealthy women wearing expensive jewelry were laid out more temptingly than the food.

Still, the décor did bring up a few questions. “If the Baron hates seafood so much, why all the octopi?” she asked curiously, studying the ceiling.

Behind the mask, Law looked thoughtful. “I’d assume it’s a vanity thing; according to my intel, he was touted as ‘The Golden Octopus’ during his time in the Navy.”

“Why?”

“Probably a reference to the number of organizations he was involved in, though there were also rumors about him having an octopus-related Devil Fruit. That seems unlikely, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No Devil Fruit user would keep his important files in a Seastone safe. Just touching the damn thing would drain his energy. Besides, don’t you think the World Government would have made that common knowledge to strike fear into pirates? They’ve never exactly been shy about bragging about their officers’ powers.”

Nervously checking her cat mask to ensure it was tightly secured, she said lowly, “You’d better be right; if it turns out he can turn into an octopus or something I’m charging you for shitty intel.”

Casually, the pair meandered through the crowd, giving polite greetings and sizing up potential prey. The Cat Thief had already picked out a few marks; men who’d cast her salacious leers, despite her being on another’s arm. They’d be easily distracted by her cleavage and flattery and wouldn’t even notice their pockets getting progressively lighter. Even better, Law’s presence would also give her the ideal excuse to turn down their inevitable, unwanted advances. Nothing fended off creeps like a jealous boyfriend, after all, and in high society, you never wanted to risk causing a scene. She’d just have to make sure he knew when to step in.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Law murmured in her ear, “I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight, so if you need me, adjust your hairpins and I’ll come to your rescue.”

“‘Rescue’ is a strong word, but I appreciate it,” she responded, tone dripping with false affection as she straightened his lapels, acting as the ever-attentive beau. “Tell me, Adrian, are you the type to tolerate other men flirting with your girlfriend?”

“Of course not. What’s mine is mine, and men challenge that claim at their own peril.” His reply was smooth as polished obsidian, one hand possessively resting on her waist as he steered them over to the side of the dance floor. The thick leather of the black glove shielded her from the heat of his palm, but the weight and press of his fingers into her delicate flesh made up for it.

Teasingly, she tapped the tip of his beak. “That doesn’t sound very doctor-like. Isn’t there a Hippocratic Oath you’re supposed to be following?”

“There are exceptions to every rule.” Long fingers gently lifted her chin so he could gaze deeply into her eyes. “There’s no oath I wouldn’t break to keep my woman at my side.”

Damn, that line should not be so hot, she thought, the faint blush painting her cheeks visible just beneath the bottom of her mask. It was surprising how easily Law managed to turn on the charm and hide the far creepier meaning of his words. If she were an average woman with no knowledge of his criminal activities or identity as one of the most feared up-and-coming pirates of the current generation, she might swoon a little bit.

Nami really needed more practice dealing with handsome men flirting with her. She was far too used to friendly, harmless perverts like Brook and Sanji, or disgusting lechers like Absalom. Besides being physically attractive, Law’s flirtations were harder to brush off because she completely believed him when he said he was pickier about his women than the rest of his crew. Perhaps that was why he got her so flustered; he didn’t wear his desires on his sleeve, so his attention felt more…focused, like sunlight through a magnifying glass, burning away her defenses.

“And what about you?” he coaxed, lifting her hand to delicately press the tips of her fingers to his lips as his eyes bore into hers. Electric shocks tingled up her hand as heat coiled within her belly. It was way too easy to imagine him giving her that look in a dark bedroom as he slowly stripped off her clothes. “Are you the type to play with a man’s heart? The type to stray? Or are you just so naturally charming you don’t realize the kind of thoughts you put in men’s minds?”

It took her a moment to realize he was asking for the sake of the cover; to establish his reaction when he barged in on her flirtations with other men.

His interest and sensual actions were solely for the sake of the cover. For business, not pleasure. None of it was real, and she grasped that fact like a lifeline. It was so much easier to remain in control if she remembered that it wasn’t Law that was flirting with her, but Dr. Goodheart Adrian, Chaton Bellemere’s surgeon lover. Hell, he was wearing a mask—she could easily pretend that he wasn’t her dangerously attractive temporary captain, but another mark she could tease and deceive with no consequences.

Lips quirking in a saucy, mischievous grin, she leaned in close, breath ghosting across his throat as she replied, “I’d never cheat, but I am the kind of woman who likes to see if she can get her boyfriend jealous. There’s something so arousing about seeing such a normally composed doctor so worked up over little old me.”

Her response made Law pause, blinking owlishly in surprise before his grip on her hand tightened ever-so-slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “How jealous do you want?” he rasped, giving the pad of her middle finger a light nip. “I’m happy to break a few jaws before I carry you off.”

A tiny hiss of pleasure escaped between her teeth before she regained control. Pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his sharp jaw, just below his ear, she murmured, “I’m sure these men don’t want any trouble; just come up with an excuse to lead me away. A little decorum goes a long way, after all.”

She’d planned on flouncing away and getting to work mingling and stealing, but her whole body froze as she caught a familiar scent.

Tobacco smoke, thick and sweet wafted up her nose, and as her heart stuttered in her chest, Nami slowly turned her head to the side, following the grey trail to a large, imposing figure glowering at the crowd as if he’d like to arrest half the people in the room. His formal suit was as white as his hair, his forest green tie and matching domino mask the only pop of color. With the long scar down his face and signature cigar, the mask did nothing to hide his identity.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she squeaked, panicked and already trying to figure out the best way to escape.

“Hina, what the fuck am I doing here?!” Smoker growled, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Beside him, a beautiful woman with long, sakura pink hair and a cigarette dangling from her full, red lips sighed. She was dressed in a stunning, form-fitting silver gown embroidered with fluttering blackbirds, the silk flowing down her figure like mercury. Her mask, also silver but with a black feathered plume, hung absently from her fingers. “Because you owe me. After all the strings I’ve pulled over the years to keep you from getting demoted back down to Chore Boy, this is the least you can do.”

“Look, Hina, I know I owe you, but you could have asked me to do your paperwork for a month or something. Fancy crap with stuffed shirts isn’t my thing, especially when it means playing nice with that bastard. Why couldn’t you take someone Fullbody or Django? They’d be happy to shower you with attention and ask you to waltz and that other gentlemanly shit.”

Shoulders tense as she carefully observed the crowd, she stated, “Precisely because this isn’t your thing. I need you to stand next to me looking grumpy and miserable to keep stupid ass-kissers and perverted old octopi from asking me to dance. Hina hates that old creep.”

Though his teeth ground against his cigar, the corner of his mouth lifted into the barest hint of a smile. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I am the perfect man for the job.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” Nami asked under her breath, pressing close to her partner. Smoker was only about fifteen feet away, but the din of the crowd and orchestral music helped mask her voice. Her every instinct screamed for her to run, but she knew any sudden movement around the pirate hunter would capture his undivided attention, like a rabbit trying to escape a wolf. Inwardly, she seethed; if Uni had managed to modify the guest list, surely he would have known a certain Marine was coming, right? Why didn’t anyone warn her? Everybody knew there was nothing Smoker would like better than to capture and imprison the Straw Hats.

Her anger ebbed slightly as Law pulled her a bit closer, doing his best to shield her with his body. Though his poker face was still in place, she could feel the tension coiled in his muscles. “I knew Black Cage was invited, but her RSVP was a ‘no.’ I’d assumed she was cleaning up the mess of the war or helping track down the prisoners Mugiwara released from Impel Down. White Chase was definitely not on the guest list.”

“What do we do?”

“Keep calm. It’s a big party, and it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid them. Even if they notice us, our disguises should allay suspicion, and there’s no way they’d expect the two of us together.”

He was right; even if they did somehow recognize Law, they’d never expect the navigator of a rival crew on his arm, meaning she might be able to make a break for it. She wasn’t too worried about his safety; he was a strong fighter and could teleport himself to the other side of the island in a heartbeat. She was the one who would be screwed if she caught a Marine’s eye.

Surreptitiously, Nami peeked around Law’s chest to watch the pair, hoping for some sign they’d move on to another part of the ballroom, but soon found herself staring at the beautiful captain. Bad as her experiences with the World Government were, she couldn’t help but admire a strong Marine woman. And though the hairstyle was different, the color and cigarette briefly brought visions of her adoptive mother, and she wondered if Hina had heard of Bellemere. There weren’t too many female officers in the Marines; had she been renowned enough for someone like Hina to look up to? Or was her decision to give up military life to raise two orphaned girls treated as a disgrace? The Navy hadn’t offered any financial assistance or seemed to care when she’d been murdered by pirates, so the latter seemed more likely.

Of course, a trained soldier would sense she was being watched, and Hina inclined her head towards the incognito couple. “You’ve been staring at me. Why?” she asked suspiciously, taking a long drag of her cigarette as her dark eyes narrowed.

Luckily, years of swindling, being a member of Arlong’s crew, and generally always needing to get herself out of trouble had made Nami a pretty good actress, even under pressure. “I was just admiring your dress. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” she gushed, making her voice as airheaded and overexcited as she could under the Marine’s scrutiny. “Wherever did you get it?”

Apparently, her ruse worked, as she gave a small but pleased smile. “Thank you. There’s a shop in Alabasta that carries beautiful silks. I stumbled across it while on a mission and decided to treat myself. When I learned I’d be attending this…party, a dressmaker on Sabaody made them into a custom gown for me.”

“Alabasta! How exotic! Oh, darling, can we go there on our next holiday?” she asked, looking up at Law, wide brown eyes begging him to play along. “I simply must have a dress like that!”

Catching on, the doctor once more pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her hair. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Nothing’s too good for you, sweetheart.”

She gave him a dazzling grin, wrapping her arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug. “Really?! Oh, thank you, cuddle bear!”

Internally, Nami cheered in victory as his jaw tightened and blue tint came to his cheeks. She might not get to kick his ass, but she could still make his night hell in all the little ways. “You’re…welcome,” he ground out.

“Hina-chan!” a loud, overly cheerful voice called out from the crowd, and an older, obese man strode over. His tuxedo was gold silk and embroidered with scarlet octopi, a long, crimson cape trailing behind him. His grey hair was thin, braided into eight little rattails, and slicked back with so much oil it gleamed like grease on the water. A gold octopus mask hung from his neck, the tentacles a writhing mass and encrusted with rubies for suckers. “How marvelous! You were able to make it after all!”

Both Marines noticeably stiffened at his approach. “Well, after your call, my superiors were convinced that attending your party was more important than attending to my duties,” she said, tone so frosty it made Drum Island seem like a tropical paradise.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Hina-chan,” Baron Harpin chuckled, giving her an appreciative leer. The way the captain tensed further made it clear the feeling wasn’t mutual. “Always so serious, even back when you were a trainee. Really, you should be grateful I pushed so hard to get you a night off—it pains me to think of such a beautiful flower wilting on the battlefield. I swear I’ll never forgive Sengoku for denying my request to have you as my personal secretary.”

“Hina’s too damn good a soldier to waste on some pathetic desk job,” Smoker’s deep, rough voice cut in, muscular arms crossed tightly over his massive chest. “And she ain’t wilting—she thrives out there.”

The Baron regarded him with undisguised disdain. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

“I’m Hina’s plus-one, or did you not notice that on the RSVP? Pretty sloppy for the head of Navy Intelligence. Sorry—ex-head of Navy Intelligence.”

The pirate hunter’s biting comment struck a nerve, as disregard turned into outright hatred. “Careful, Smoker; I may be retired, but I’ve still got plenty of pull with the Admirals, plus several other organizations. One word from me and your career is over.”

A threatening step forward was all Smoker was able to take before Hina held him back. “He’s not worth it,” she murmured before insistently leading him away.

“Just one moment, Hina-chan,” their host sing-songed. When the woman in question acknowledged him over her shoulder, he gave a haughty grin. “I know I permitted you a plus-one, but that’s because I’d assumed you’d bring along someone with more…class. I surround myself with only the finest things, after all. I’m rather inclined to have him escorted out for the sake of my invited guests; trash like him tends to ruin the ambiance.”

Turning fully towards him, though still keeping a restraining hand on Smoker’s bicep, she stated, “What do you want?”

His returning leer was as greasy as his hair. “A smile. Surely such a rare and radiant thing will counteract your…date’s foul appearance.”

“Oh, that fuckin—” Smoker growled, but Hina’s silent glare stopped him. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, the Marine captain plastered on a bland, completely hollow smile for their former superior before dragging her old friend out to the gardens to smoke in peace.

“Be sure to save me a dance, Hina-chan!” he called after them, entirely too gleeful to have the last word. As he beamed at his guests, his black, watery eyes fell on Nami, and she swore she could feel his gaze creep over her like a writhing mass of tentacles.

Not wanting to hang around lest Harpin decided to come over and introduce himself, she gave Law’s elbow a slight tug, and he willingly let her lead him away towards one of the little alcoves. “Well, he seems…yeah, he’s a total creep.”

“I feel like I need a chemical shower just being in his presence,” Law conferred lowly, grabbing them both a glass of champagne before ducking behind the curtains. The drapes mostly hid them from view, but he strategically positioned himself so his shoulder blocked the slight gap in the heavy velvet, yet still allowed him to notice anyone approaching. “Pity Black Cage didn’t deck him in the jaw.”

“I was hoping Smoker would make him eat his own mask.” She swiftly changed the subject, unwilling to risk one of their fellow guests overhearing them badmouth their host. “I was not expecting those two. I mean, not just here—do you think they’re dating?”

Law rubbed his chin in consideration. “I hope not. Any progeny they might produce would be an absolute nightmare to pirates the world over. The tobacco industry would be thrilled, though.”

Unbidden, a giggle escaped her as an image of a tiny Marine with Smoker’s scowl and Hina’s pink hair popped into her head, an oversized cigar comically protruding from the child’s mouth.

“Of course, that’s assuming they don’t both die of lung cancer before then,” he added absently, sipping his drink. Grey eyes swept the room over his shoulder, noting that most of the guests had the tact to look away from the alcoves, especially those occupied by couples engaged in private moments. A long arm wrapped around Nami’s tiny waist, pulling the gorgeous woman against his hip so he could murmur in her ear, “But enough about that. What else should I know about my lovely Bellemere? How did we meet?”

Playing along, she ran the tips of her fingers along his chest beneath his jacket. They should have discussed this earlier, but in the craziness of the mission prep, it had fallen by the wayside. “At an auction, of course,” she supplied easily. “There was a wonderful mermaid piece that I had taken an interest in.”

A low chuckle caressed her as he wound a lock of purple hair around his finger. The easiest lies to keep up were ones based on truth, and there was no hiding his amusement at how she’d spun the debacle at Sabaody. “Of course. You and your companions got separated, and I graciously offered to keep you company until you could be reunited. Not long after, I performed life-saving surgery on your friend, and you’ve been at my side ever since.”

His arrogant tone made her roll her eyes. “Does Dr. Goodheart have any notable achievements to his name? I can’t imagine I’d be interested in a mediocre doctor, and you must have gotten your medical license somewhere.”

“Gotten a what now?”

When she stared at him in open horror, jaw dropping to the floor, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I reattached a girl’s leg during my first year at Serenity Hospital in the North Blue,” he stated with a grin. “I was accepted into med school at fifteen and finished my surgical residency in only three years, and I also have several published papers on the effects of lead poisoning in children.”

“Really?” she replied, skepticism dripping from her lips.

“Of course. I could only learn so much through books and practicing on my friends, so I took on the identity of Goodheart Adrian so I could perfect my skills. ‘Trafalgar Law’ was a name I didn’t want gaining notoriety until I had the power and skills to protect myself.”

Well, that was quite the revelation. Frankly, she’d always figured he was only a doctor in the back-alley sense, since no hospital would be crazy enough to give him an actual license. But to have had a second identity for so long…

“Why?”

Grey eyes narrowed behind his mask at her inquiry. “Focus on questions relevant to our current situation, sweetheart.”

Cheeks puffed out indignantly, she let the topic drop, mostly out of irritation that he was right. Besides, she didn’t want to get to know the real Law, did she? “Fine. Where’d you take me on our first date? I’m sure a doctor’s salary could afford a fancy dinner, at least.”

As if a switch had been flipped, his charming persona returned. She knew it was all for show, especially given how the alcove didn’t completely hide them if someone really felt like being a voyeur, but did he have to rub those distracting little circles against her spine? “Since you have such expensive tastes, we went to the En L’iar Rose restaurant on Chardonnay Island. It’s known for its exquisite wines and decadent foods. You ordered the Pane Caldo while I had the stuffed mushrooms, and we shared a plate of assorted artisan cheeses, fruits, and chocolates for dessert.”

“That’s…an acceptable choice, I suppose.” A small, irrational coil of envy tightened in her belly. She wasn’t mad that Law had probably taken some other woman on such a romantic outing—just that no guy had put that much effort into a date with her.

His smirk was decidedly wicked. “You were such a tease with that fruit, eating it so seductively I nearly lost my mind. It took all my willpower not to pin you down and have my way with you.”

Memories of how she’d teased him with the mikans made her thighs clench, as she was suddenly all too aware that she’d been playing with fire that day. He’d definitely enjoyed her attentions and it so easily could have been turned on her. The tips of her ears turned pink as she instinctively tried to push him away, but his muscular arm kept her anchored to his side. “Too bad I’m a classy lady who doesn’t just give it up to a guy because he bought her a fancy dinner,” she snapped quietly.

“Of course you’re not; I wouldn’t have taken interest in you if you were,” he assured, tilting her face to the right and pressing a kiss to her masked cheek to hide her pissed expression. “I’m a man who likes a challenge—a woman easily seduced would bore me. And it’s intriguing how you’re so flirtatious one moment, yet easily flustered the next; makes me wonder what you’ll be like once I finally do get you in my bed.”

Face flushing to match her ears, Nami wasn’t sure if it was due to anger or embarrassment. She also wasn’t sure if he was speaking as Adrian or Law, and it was playing havoc with her sense of control. “Well, you’ll be wondering for quite some time—at the very least until you’ve gotten me a 300-carat diamond.”

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he released her. “I think we’ve got enough of the basics down to pass as a new couple. Ready to get to work?”

It took a moment and a few deep breaths to regain her composure. Her heart was beating too quickly for her liking, and she desperately needed some distance. “Hell yes. Time is money, and right now, I don’t have nearly enough of either.”

XXX

Over an hour later, Nami was immensely pleased with her haul. She’d swiped the wallets of six dance partners, along with a gold wristwatch, emerald-studded cufflinks, and some rings. She’d been extremely careful not to steal more than one thing from each target, and plenty of her dance partners had left unscathed; after all, if every man she came in contact with found their wallets missing, she’d be the prime suspect.

Finding dance partners and wealthy marks alike had been easier than getting Sanji to bring her tea. Men had practically swarmed her the moment she’d broken away from Law, and though she could feel his piercing gaze on her back, he stayed out of her way so she could work her magic.

So far, he’d only had to step in once, when a man with a face like a horse and a unicorn mask to match had gotten a little too handsy, swooping in like a bird of prey and sending her victim scurrying off with nothing more than a sharp glare and a couple cutting remarks. Still, the way he’d clutched his cane told her he’d wanted to do a lot more, reminding her that the Surgeon of Death was not a man to be messed with. While a jealous boyfriend was a great creep deterrent, too much could put off her potential marks. For the sake of that evening’s profits, she vowed to only call him in as a last resort.

She would swear until her dying breath it had nothing to do with the thrill she got at hearing Law defend her honor in his deep voice or the way she could feel the muscles beneath his suit flex when he clutched her to him possessively.

It was nearly nine-thirty when a skinny man in an elaborate peacock mask and flamboyant suit to match lead her onto the dancefloor. He’d approached swinging an emerald and sapphire-encrusted pocket watch like a pendulum, strutting about in a way that instantly practically begged her to rob him. Only men with more money than brains walked like that.

“So, Ms. Chaton,” Kujakumaru began as he pulled her close, “what do you do for a living?”

As easily as Zoro drew a sword, she turned on the charm. “Oh, I’ve done a little modeling,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes. “Mostly swimsuits and the like.”

“Really? You?”

She blinked, brows furrowing behind her mask in confusion and mild annoyance. “Yes. Not in any big magazines, but I’ve only just started, after all.”

“Ah, no wonder I hadn’t heard of you,” he stated, looking her up and down, eyes lingering on the swell of her chest. “I’ve dated quite a few models, actually. I suppose when you surround yourself with the most gorgeous women in the world, you don’t notice those who are less than a perfect ten.”

An annoyed tic formed on her forehead, thankfully hidden by the cat mask. Sure, he couldn’t see her face, but the way his eyes were practically glued to her cleavage proved he didn’t find her hideous. And what right did he have to call her less than a ten? Her bounty poster was ogled by pirates all over the Grand Line! “Well, sorry I’m not up to your usual standards, Mr. Kujakumaru,” she ground out as politely as she could.

At the brief display of temper, he quickly backtracked, “Oh, I never said that! Of course you’re beautiful, but I’d only rank you less than a ten because you’ve still got a few more years to go before you’ve fully bloomed!” he insisted, gaze flickering between her face and breasts pointedly.

Oh, nice save, she thought sarcastically. It was all too easy to catch onto this idiot’s game; he was trying to bring down her confidence in hopes preying on any insecurities. Women who knew their worth were much harder to lure into bed, after all. “Well, my boyfriend hasn’t had any complaints,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m sure he hasn’t; after all, looks aren’t everything.” When her hazelnut eyes narrowed, he continued, “You misunderstand me; I mean that modeling is just as much about who you know as what you look like. Making friends with the right people and whatnot.”

“Of course.” It was almost funny; the whole night, she’d put up with men looking to get into her pants without so much as blinking, yet this guy was making her lose her cool. Then again, none of the others had tried negging her. People like that deserved a very special place in hell as far as she was concerned. If they’d been in a bar instead of some fancy party, he’d be unconscious on the floor for his comments.

“If you really want to be a model, I have some connections to the West Blue’s top agencies. Of course, I only pass along the names of people I’m personally close to.”

Though she plastered on a smile, inwardly she rolled her eyes. He was the third man that night offering to help her “modeling career” with his “connections,” but they’d at least done their best to stroke her ego first. He hadn’t even waited for her response before slipping his hand off her waist to slide across her rear.

That little grope just cost him eighty million belli, she thought, using his moment of distraction to carefully undo the chain of his pocket watch from his doublet. To disguise the action, she pushed him back slightly, looking away coyly. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you! Unfortunately, it’s more of a hobby than anything else; if I became some big star, I wouldn’t have as much freedom. I love traveling and shopping too much to waste my time in some studio.”

“Sounds like an expensive lifestyle,” he pressed, undeterred by her refusal, just like she’d anticipated. Nami was plenty familiar with men like him; born with a silver spoon in his mouth, raised to believe that he was entitled to anything he wanted and when a woman rebuffed him, she didn’t really mean it.

He was the kind of guy she would love to have Sanji kick into the sun.

Lacking the chivalrous love-cook, however, Nami settled for her current bodyguard. “It is, but Dr. Goodheart has been an excellent provider. His research takes him to so many interesting places, and he’s been adamant about bringing me along. He gets lonely without me.”

“Then I’m surprised he’s letting you dance with another man.”

A mischievous smirk touched the corner of her lips. “We have an arrangement—he doesn’t like to dance, but I simply can’t get enough of it. So, he lets me have as many partners as I please, so long as I never dance with anyone more than once.” As the last notes of the waltz floated through the air, she knew now was the time to make her getaway. Pushing up onto her tip-toes, she murmured in his ear as she carefully lifted the watch from his pocket, slipping it into the tight cuff of her billowy sleeve, “Otherwise, he gets terribly jealous. Normally, he’s so cool and collected, but he’s got a dark temper. It’s hot, if I’m perfectly honest.”

She felt Kujakumaru shudder against her as her hot breath caressed his skin. “Is dancing the only thing he gets jealous about?” he croaked, staring at her with obvious desire, hands impotently grasping at empty air as she stepped out of his reach. “Perhaps we could find a nice, quiet corner and continue our discussion about your modeling career; a beauty like you deserves to be shared, not hoarded away for one man to enjoy.”

Relieved that she could finally turn around and roll her eyes, she strolled towards the wine fountain, calling back over her shoulder, “I appreciate the thought, but I really must get back to Adrian.”

She halted as a thin, sweaty hand wrapped around her wrist. “At a party like this, a man’s never lonely for long. I’m sure he’s found some pretty young thing to keep him company, so why not do the same for me?”

Lifting up her free arm, she allowed the cold metal of the stolen watch to slide down her sleeve into her bodice, grateful that he’d grabbed her left wrist. It would have been disastrous if he’d stumbled upon the payment she’d taken for putting up with his bullshit. Absently, she played with the shimmering barrettes in her hair, making sure they caught the light like an emergency beacon. Surely Law would be there any moment; this was definitely serious enough to get him involved. “Adrian’s quite adamant that I’m the only woman for him, so I doubt it. And if a man’s not lonely for long, I’m sure you’ll find yourself in pleasant enough company soon enough.”

“I want your company. Your little boyfriend can wait until I’m finished with you.”

“He’s hardly ‘little.’”

“He must be if he can’t satisfy a woman as obsessed with ‘dancing’ as you. In fact, how about I invite a few friends to join us?’ You said he doesn’t care how many ‘dance partners’ you have, right?”

Brown eyes darted about nervously, desperately trying to catch sight of her raven companion. She was certain she’d left him by the window next to the fountain, so he should have been at her side already. What, had he wandered off to take a leak? If he didn’t show himself in the next five seconds, she was going to have to do something drastic, like pluck the peacock’s feathers herself.

“What was that you were saying about him not looking at other women?” Kujakumaru crowed, roughly turning her towards the dancefloor.

Her jaw dropped. His height made him easy to spot on the dancefloor, casually leading Black Cage Hina in a foxtrot.

That absolute bastard! Nami thought, rage bubbling up inside of her. He abandoned his partner to deal with some clingy creep so he could dance with a Marine? Was he trying to get them caught?!

“Well, since your boyfriend is otherwise occupied,” the man beside her sniggered, pulling her against him, “what say you and I go someplace private—”

The hard point of a cane slammed into his foot, causing him to yelp ungracefully and release Nami from his clutches. Gratefully, she turned to her liberator, hoping Law had abandoned Hina to finally come save her, only to find herself face-to-face with a rotund, yet rather elegant-looking gentleman dressed as a knight, complete with silver shoulder pads, royal blue cape, and plumed helmet. The faceplate was up to reveal piercing black eyes and a disapproving frown made even more exaggerated by his bushy grey mustache.

“I believe this young lady made it quite clear that your time with her is over, nephew,” he said sternly.

Kujakumaru looked like he wanted to argue, but when he reached for Nami again, the knight brandished his cane like a sword. “Oh, please, do try. Beatrix may spoil you rotten, but I’m certainly not above turning you over my knee right here and now.”

That threat was all it took to send the peacock flying off into the crowd, managing nothing more than, “I’m telling mother!” over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Relieved to finally be free of such sweaty clutches, the Cat Thief studied her wrist to ensure no perspiration had leaked into the luxurious fabric of her sleeve. A handkerchief entered her field of vision, and she smiled thankfully.

“So, did you pick your costume intending to go about rescuing young ladies, or was that just a happy accident?” she asked, wiping off her hand.

He savior’s hard frown morphed into a smile as he offered her his arm. “I had hoped such services would be unnecessary, but it never hurts to come prepared, especially with my family is involved. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

She allowed him to lead her away from the whispering crowd. If she gathered too much attention, it’d be harder for her to sneak away once the plan was in motion, and until Law finished his little dance with Hina, she’d rather not risk being confronted by more creeps who couldn’t take a hint.

Her natural suspicion only briefly entertained the thought that her hero could turn out to be just as bad. Whether it was his protective aura or his mustache, he reminded her of Genzo, and that would always earn a man the benefit of the doubt. “I’m fine. I suppose I should have been clearer that I wasn’t interested.”

“From what I overheard, you made yourself plenty clear,” he huffed. “That boy’s never learned a speck of respect. My sister spoils him, and he takes entirely too much after my brother.”

“Eh, men like him are hardly rare. I appreciate you scaring him off, though.”

“Happy to be of assistance. I hope you don’t mind if I linger a bit? I’d rather avoid the inevitable argument Beatrix and I will have for a little while longer, and I think I should have a talk with your boyfriend about leaving his lady undefended.”

“Oh, no need for that,” she growled, clenching her fist as a murderous flame crackled in her eyes. “I’m happy to do it myself.”

Surprised, the knight let out a full-bellied laugh. “I’m starting to think my rescue was unneeded; you seem plenty capable of handling yourself!”

“Damn right I can!” she snarled before remembering herself. Swiftly plastering on an innocent smile, she amended, “I mean, I wish I could, but a delicate thing like me wouldn’t stand a chance without a big, strong man looking after her.”

Laugh simmering down to a chuckle, he waved off her excuse. “Relax; a lady with spirit is a great thing. You remind me of my granddaughter, actually!” With a deep, proper bow, he introduced himself. “Harpin Reginald, at your service.”

“Harpin?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “Are you related to our host?” If he was, she was in so much trouble. Puzzle pieces began to connect in her head, and the picture they were forming was not pretty.

His massive mustache waggled side-to-side in distaste. “Alas, he’s my elder brother. I don’t particularly like either of my siblings, but our mother asked us on her deathbed to try to get along, so he’s bound to invite me, and I’m obligated to attend. The rest of the time, I put as much of the Grand Line between the three of us as possible.”

“So, was that the Baron’s son?”

“No, my sister’s, though Gerald was the one to teach him such wonderful manners.” He glared disdainfully across the room to where their host was casually groping one of the maids. “I swear, he threw a masked ball simply because he knows how much I detest these things.”

“What, you don’t enjoy the opportunity to dress up as a white knight?” she managed to tease. Her heart was still quaking at the revelation that she’d inadvertently pissed off a former Navy Intelligence officer’s nephew—when she found Law, she’d have to warn him that she’d earned some problematic attention.

After she kicked his ass for abandoning her, of course.

Whether her was ignoring her nervousness or simply failed to pick up on it, Reginald chuckled at her comment. “Well, that I don’t mind, but you’ve seen how outrageous these people get when they have anonymity—Kujakumaru is a perfect example. I doubt you’re the first woman he’s tried to coerce tonight.”

“You have a point, but I’m starting to think every high-class party is a masquerade in its own way.”

A grey eyebrow raised inquisitively. “How so?”

She shrugged, adjusting her cat mask so it rested more securely on her face. “Everyone’s still putting on a disguise; pretending to be more important than they really are, acting like they don’t despise each other with fake smiles and forced politeness, putting up with some creep’s innuendos because if they slap him like they really want to, the illusion’s broken and everyone will hate them for it.”

Reginald rubbed his chin, but a small, approving smile curled his lips. “You sound like you don’t enjoy these kinds of affairs.”

“Honestly, I always thought I would, but I guess I’m a simple girl at heart. I like expensive things, but this,” she pointed at the ballroom, “is disgusting. How much of the buffet is going to go straight in the trash? My friend’s a cook, and he’d have an aneurism over so much food waste.”

“I agree. I wish Gerald would at least send the leftovers to the town; every year, I swear those people look worse and worse. I tell you, I’d much rather be at one of the shindigs my wife’s family throws. Everyone comes for miles to sing and dance and share food, and it doesn’t matter what your status is; you’re welcomed with open arms.”

Nami smiled wistfully. “Yeah. I wish I was back with my friends—Brook’s music is way better than some stuffy orchestra, and Franky would show off some bizarre new move or hairstyle, and Lu—” she caught herself, realizing that she was getting too close to outing her identity as a Straw Hat, “—cy would make up ridiculous games and do stupid impressions, and we’d drink and laugh until dawn.”

“That sounds a hundred times more fun than any affair my siblings have thrown. Perhaps next year I’ll claim to have a prior engagement and seek out your friends’ party,” he joked.

She grinned, elbowing him playfully. “If you can find us, you’re welcome anytime. Heck, you can even say we kidnapped you if you need a better excuse. Consider it my thanks for the daring rescue.”

The playful glint faded from his black eyes. “Speaking of excuses, you’ll probably want to come up with one to leave—even if Kujakumaru doesn’t go crying to his mother, by midnight, this place will be nothing short of an orgy.”

She nearly choked on her own spit. From his dry tone, she doubted he was exaggerating. “Good thing my boyfriend and I already planned to be out by then.”

“See that you do. Why the Navy ever employed a hedonist like my brother, I’ll never know, much less as head of Intelligence.”

From what she’d seen that night, she couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. “Well, you don’t get rich enough to own your own island by not having connections; maybe the Navy felt they were useful enough to excuse his…lifestyle.”

With a huff, he nodded. “Probably, though I also have no doubt that’s why he was eventually convinced to ‘retire.’ He never would have left on his own volition; they would have had to pry it from his sticky, greedy grasp. Gerald’s always hated giving anything up, even if he doesn’t really want it.”

Nami wanted to pry further—this was a goldmine of intel on the man she was about to rob—but she was distracted by a certain man in a raven mask approaching.

Rage once more bubbling up like a geyser, she whirled on Law. “Oh, have you finished dancing already?” she asked sarcastically. “Good thing I didn’t need your help fending off some creep!”

Behind the mask, she could see an array of expressions cross his face; surprise, annoyance, guilt, anger, before finally settling on mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out to gently run his fingers across her cheek. When she jerked back, glaring harshly, he sighed, “I saw another lady in need of rescuing and got distracted.”

“Yeah, sure, because Black Cage Hina would ever need to be rescued,” she scoffed.

“Actually,” Reginald said from beside her, “if it’s from my brother, then yes, she would. He’s always had a…thing for her, ever since she was a recruit.”

Law nodded, though he did give the older man a suspicious glance. “I was simply helping her avoid the Baron. But I truly am sorry,” he murmured, hooking Nami’s fingers with his own and carefully drawing her to his side, brushing a kiss across the corner of her mask. “I should have made sure you weren’t in harm’s way, first; you’re always my top priority, and I promise not to leave you alone again.”

Nami really wanted to stay mad at him, but for the sake of both their cover and the job, Bellemere had to forgive her boyfriend’s chivalrous stupidity. The Cat Thief didn’t, though, and she vowed to give him an earful once they were alone. So, she forced herself to wrap her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze as she grumbled into his vest, “Apology accepted, but only because I was lucky enough to have a knight in shining armor to rescue me.”

“I guess so. Care to introduce me?”

Gratefully pulling away from Law’s heated body, she turned to her new friend. “Adrian, this is Harpin Reginald. Reginald, this is Dr. Goodheart Adrian.”

“Goodheart?” the old gentleman asked, eyes lighting up in recognition. “From Serenity Hospital?”

“Yes?” the surgeon replied, immediately on guard. He’d made the connection to their host even more quickly than she had, and the fact that her new friend could identify him didn’t bode well.

“You were the one who reattached my granddaughter’s leg!”

Law blinked in surprise. “Melody-ya was your granddaughter?”

Nami’s eyes widened at both the connection and the way the surgeon’s accent slipped. Even when it was just the two of them, he hadn’t added -ya to anyone’s name since they’d arrived.

Grasping Law’s hand in both of his own, Reginald shook it enthusiastically, tears of joy practically streaming down his face. “Indeed! I honestly can’t thank you enough!” He turned to Nami, smile shining brighter than his armor. “You have no idea how much I owe this man. Melody was involved in a terrible accident that tore off her right leg. The doctors were able to stabilize her, but they said she’d need a prosthetic replacement, and possibly never be able to walk again. But Dr. Goodheart was able to reattach her leg so perfectly, there wasn’t even a scar when they removed her stitches! It was practically a miracle!”

If you count the powers of a Devil Fruit as a “miracle,” she thought wryly, though she found it hard to stay cynical. As unlikely as it seemed that Law would meet the grandfather of one of his former patients here, she’d learned that fate had a funny way of bringing people together. She’d never expected to meet Brook, Laboon’s long-missing friend, on Thriller Bark, and yet he was now a member of her crew, sailing with them to the end of the Grand Line to fulfill his promise.

“I simply did what I could to the best of my ability with the tools I had at my disposal,” Law insisted, though his lips did lift in a slight smile. It was strange to see him acting humble, and somehow, it felt authentic. “How has she been? Any problems with the leg?”

“She’s well on her way to becoming a marathon runner, I can tell you,” Reginald said proudly. “Quick as the wind and eager to see the world! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Any surgeon would have done the same in my position. I’m just glad she’s made such an excellent recovery; it’s the greatest reward any doctor could ask for.”

Reginald looked like he wanted to sing “Dr. Goodheart’s” praises further, but there was a sudden screech of “WHERE’S THAT WORTHLESS LITTLE BROTHER OF MINE” from the other side of the room, and the knight went rigid.

“Ah, it seems I can’t delay my argument with Beatrix any longer. Keep your heads down while I try to lead her off. Better yet, hide until some other drama occurs—maybe then you could sneak out more easily.”

Law frowned while Nami gave an appreciative smile. She was more than happy to run rather than get pulled into some family spat. “Thanks again for your help, Reginald. Best of luck with your sister.”

Pulling her partner deep into the crowd, the thief refused to stop until they were safe at the far end of the ballroom, the sound of the orchestra covering up their conversation.

“So, exactly what kind of trouble did you get yourself into while I was gone?” Law asked.

“Long story short—the Baron’s nephew propositioned me and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so Reginald put him in his place.”

Anger flashed in the Dark Doctor’s gaze before simmering down to annoyance. “Of all the people you had to piss off…”

“Well excuse me for being a loyal girlfriend,” she snapped. “Unlike you! Why were you really dancing with Hina?” she whispered harshly, poking his chest.

He raised a black eyebrow, and Nami blushed as she realized just how jealous she sounded. “You’re the one who thinks acts of kindness are a weakness,” she insisted, “so there’s no way you helped her out for chivalry’s sake. If it affects the plan, I deserve to know!”

“White Chase had to take a piss, and I noticed our beloved host making a bee-line for her. In the interest of the night not suddenly going to hell ahead of schedule, I figured I’d offer her a temporary escape. Entertaining as it would be, my plan doesn’t factor in the Baron getting murdered this early in the evening.”

“What if she had recognized you?”

“Worried about me, sweetheart?” he teased, stroking a gloved finger down the smooth side of her mask. “I’m sure you’d be able to make an easy getaway in the confusion.”

“If anything happened to you, your crew would be heartbroken and I’d be roped into breaking your ass out of Impel Down,” she argued half-heartedly. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not some powerhouse with more luck than brains like Luffy. You shouldn’t have taken such a risk!”

“Then I promise not to dance with another woman for the rest of the night,” he replied, pulling her close, hands resting gently on the small of her back, rubbing those distracting little circles along her spine. Leaning down, he whispered, “Seriously, I was doing it for our sake; Black Cage apparently has a rather unpleasant history with Harpin, so I dropped a few hints that she and White Chase should call it an early night. Things will go much easier with them out of the way.”

It was funny; despite the knowledge that Law was a sadistic, dangerous pirate and potentially one of Luffy’s greatest rivals to become Pirate King, being in his arms was beginning to feel…not comfortable, but almost normal. If anything, she should be more eager to escape his clutches than any of the handsy men she’d endured that night; at least they were weak enough to clobber if they got her alone. But she didn’t feel gross when Law touched her.

It dawned on her that, despite playing the role of her lover, his touches throughout the night had been relatively innocent. His hand went nowhere more inappropriate than her waist. His eyes stayed locked on her own instead of falling to the plunging neckline of her dress. Even though he’d kissed her several times, for the most part it had been to her wig or mask.

Deep down, she’d expected him to take advantage of their situation; to grope and kiss and tease her, using their cover as a couple as an excuse, secure in the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Why the hell did Nami feel so disappointed that he didn’t?

Shaking herself free of such confusing thoughts, she replied, “How much longer until phase two?”

Taking a glance at his pocket watch, he said, “It’s currently 9:40pm. Shachi’s team will act at 10:25pm, Ikkaku’s at 10:31pm, and Penguin’s at 10:37pm. Be ready to move no later than 10:15pm.”

“So we’ll just waltz into Harpin’s study?” She’d been sure to memorize the mansion’s blueprints, so she knew it was three floors above the ballroom. No matter what route they took, getting there would take time, and Law seemed fairly against using his powers unless strictly necessary.

“When we leave the ballroom, head towards the foyer but take the first right; about fifteen feet down that hallway, behind the red drapes between the painting of Dionysus and the statue of Venus is a hidden door the servants use. Those passageways lead all throughout the house, so we should be able to get around more easily. I’m sure there are guards or at least servants positioned to deter guests from wandering into certain parts of the mansion, but once our little distractions hit, it’s unlikely to be a problem.”

Even with his reassurance, Nami couldn’t help but be nervous. So many things could go horribly wrong, and even if Smoker and Hina left, she doubted they’d ignore the “distractions” Law had in mind.

Either he could see the tension in her shoulders or feel it in her spine, because he immediately set to taking her mind off such concerns. “We still have over a half-hour; I bet you can’t steal ten more wallets before showtime.”

Eyes flashing with greed and pride, she replied, “What’s the prize?”

“Me and the crew always have a party to celebrate a successful job, but I also take the time to treat myself to a nice dinner as a personal reward. Since you’ve been so instrumental to my plan, I was thinking about inviting you along.”

Immediately, she knew what he was proposing. “Loser pays for dinner?”

“Damn right.”

“You’re on.”

To the Dark Doctor’s surprise, she didn’t run off to find a new dance partner; instead, they milled about, wandering past small groups of guests, Nami occasionally stopping to apologize for bumping into someone or to compliment a particularly elaborate costume. By the time they reached the other side of the ballroom ten minutes later, she pulled him towards one of the stained-glass windows, turning them away from the party under the pretense of studying the elaborate scene of a satyr ravishing a forest nymph.

Reaching into the slit of her dress, the Cat Thief pulled out her haul, fanning herself haughtily with the wallets. “Seven down; three to go.”

Impressed at how quickly and subtly she worked, he smirked, patting his pocket to be sure she hadn’t added his to the collection. “Saying this now; my wallet doesn’t count.”

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “Fine, but only because I already know how easily I could take it.”

“Careful, Nami-ya, or you’re going to find out how easily I can take everything you’ve stolen tonight.”

A strange, pleasant shiver ran up her spine as his dark baritone caressed each syllable of her name. Had he always said it like that? Or was she just noticing now because he’d been calling her “Bellemere” and “sweetheart” all night?

None of that mattered at the moment, as a shrill, angry shriek from behind them quickly soured the mood.

“You! You’re the wretch who insulted my precious Kujakumaru!”

Nami barely had time to slip the wallets back into her gown before five long, sharp, acrylic nails buried themselves into her clavicle. She let out a yelp of pain as she was aggressively spun around, coming face-to-throat with a tall, thin woman with a severe frown, red cheeks, and the same black, watery eyes as the Baron. She was dressed in a chartreuse silk gown, her hair done up in a tight updo, and she clutched a domino mask adorned with yellow and green sequins. But Nami barely noticed that, as her eye was immediately drawn to her necklace; three rows of small, exquisitely cut white diamonds hung around her neck like a collar, framing a heart-shaped yellow diamond the size of a peach stone.

The sharp sting of yellow-painted talons scratching the skin of her collarbone brought the thief’s attention back up to the woman’s face. “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Nami ground out through the pain.

“That’s because trash like you doesn’t even belong in my presence! You should be honored my perfect son even glanced your way you harlot!” Looking the younger woman up and down, she scoffed. “I mean, look at the way you’re dressed. Kujakumaru, did you ask this girl to dance out of pity? Such cheap, ugly jewelry for a cheap, ugly girl!”

“Yes mother,” the man in the peacock mask sneered, pushing his way to the front of the crowd, a look of righteous glee in his eyes. “It was an act of charity, and when I refused her advances, she made uncle Reggie beat me!”

Furious at both the insult and the blatant lies, Nami struggled to pull away, but that only made the claws sink in deeper. “Your son’s the one who came onto me,” she snapped, “and maybe if you’d bothered to teach him to respect women, he wouldn’t get so butthurt over a girl rejecting him.”

“How dare you?!”

The woman looked as if she might continue to berate her, but she shrieked in surprise as Law wrenched her hand from Nami’s shoulder, his large fist clenched around her scrawny wrist so tightly she could hear the leather creak. Or maybe it was the bones.

“Lady Beatrix, I presume?” the Surgeon of Death asked, voice cold as chipped ice as he glared with murderous intent. “Regardless of however your son was insulted, I’d appreciate it if you kept your damn hands off my woman.”

As the Baron’s sister trembled under Law’s scrutiny, Nami inspected her shoulder, dismayed to find that the psychotic bitch had drawn blood. No wonder he’d stepped in; regardless of whether or not the Cat Thief could handle herself, he’d paid for her dress, and it already stood to get ruined. Bloodstains were not easy to get out of gold satin, after all.

“U-unhand me, you brute!” Beatrix screeched, writhing about like an eel. “My brother—”

“—would only care if I got your blood on his million-belli carpet. If he actually did give a shit about you or your worthless son, he’d be confronting me himself.” With predatory intent, Law’s eyes swept over the small crowd that had gathered, landing squarely on the man in the peacock mask. “Speaking of, I’m not exactly pleased that he propositioned my lover. She did tell you she was already spoken for, right?”

Smug triumph melted off his face like candle wax, and Kujakumaru looked ready to piss himself. “Sh-she said you had an arrangement! That you didn’t mind her having as many partners as she wanted!”

“Dance partners!” Nami insisted, frowning at Law’s raised eyebrow. “I specifically said ‘dance partners;’ he’s the idiot who took it the wrong way!”

Nodding in understanding, he turned back to the trembling man. “Even if I was the type to share, a lady has every right to refuse a man’s advances. Either you don’t know how to handle rejection, or you’re so pathetic that you couldn’t even pay a woman to sleep with you. I’d put my money on the latter.”

Nami shrieked as Beatrix’s claw-like free hand lashed out at him, but Law managed to catch it mere inches from his face, his cane dropping to the floor with a dull thud. The look in his eye turned sadistically amused at the attempted assault, and Nami had the feeling that if she didn’t put an end to this now, their cover would be blown as the Surgeon of Death decided to find out if the mother and son really did have blue blood.

Grabbing his arm, she yanked as hard as she could, forcing him to release Beatrix’s left wrist. “Darling, that’s enough!” she insisted. “It’s not worth it!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied calmly, thought the dark aura failed to dissipate.

More people were gathering to watch, and Nami knew she needed to do something drastic before they managed to catch the Baron’s, or even Smoker and Hina’s, attention. Grabbing his chin, she yanked his face down to her level, cutting off his protests with a desperate kiss.

Law’s lips were softer than she’d expected. Life on the sea was rough, the salty air and burning sun resulting in chapped lips for almost everyone, but perhaps he was one of the few men smart enough to use lip balm. On top of that, they were dry and warm, the smooth skin pliant beneath her own. The man himself didn’t move for a moment, completely caught off-guard by her actions, but after a few agonizing seconds, he tilted his head to better slant his mouth over hers.

It was clear her plan worked when she felt both his hands cup her shoulders, and the harsh click of Beatrix’s heels as she scurried away, not wasting the opportunity to put some distance between herself and the man who dared threaten her.

Part of Nami was tempted to drag the kiss out, especially when she felt Law’s blunt teeth nibble at her bottom lip, requesting entrance. Heat pooled in her belly as his tongue swept over the seam of her mouth, but the sound of the clock striking ten doused it in ice water as she remembered they didn’t have time to waste.

Drawing on every shred of acting ability in her repertoire, she forced tears to well up in her eyes as she shoved him away. “I thought you were different, Adrian!” she sobbed. “You know how much I hate violence!”

“Wha—”

“I can’t believe you’d even consider harming someone, especially a defenseless old woman! I—I never should have come out tonight. I wish we had just stayed home!”

Tears streaming out of her eyes, she gathered up her skirts and sprinted away, weaving through the crowds, effortlessly dodging the concerned hands that reached out for her. Behind her, she heard another shriek, followed by exclamations of “Fire! Put that curtain out you fools!” and in the chaos, she managed to escape into the hall, guests and servants alike paying her no mind in favor of the ruckus that broke out. Nami chanced a glance over her shoulder, bright eyes widening as she saw not one, but at least four fires of varying sizes had sprung up throughout the ballroom, candelabras apparently having been knocked over by the panicked guests.

Not one to look the gift horse in the mouth, she dashed into to the hallway Law had spoken of, eyes quickly locking onto the curtain hiding the servant’s entrance. Hopefully, she’d be able to hide in there and wait for her companion. Not that she was particularly looking forward to being alone with him now; god, what had she been thinking, pulling him into a kiss? A slap would have been better, or maybe a swift kick to the shin!

Hand trembling with fear and adrenaline, she grabbed the corner of the drape, only to be halted by an arm coming out of nowhere to wrap tightly around her waist. Another hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream.

“You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?” came a dark voice at her ear.

[azookiex3]

What A Trick! What A Treat! [Lucifer Halloween OneShot]

Description: This is the last time Trixie will be able to go trick-or-treating, and she's getting everyone involved!

Rating: Teen Warnings: Suggestive sexual theme

AN: A one-shot Halloween themed fic for the Lucifer FB group contest! Hope you all enjoy, and Happy Halloween!

AO3 Fanfiction Net Wattpad

Taglist: @lucifersnipnips

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

This year's Halloween will be the saddest for Chloe and Dan. The last one where their baby girl can still be considered a "kid" dressing up and getting candy.

Trixie couldn't be more excited.

Trixie has been waiting for this day to come ever since Maze told her about all the wonders of mischief night. Knowing that officially next year she can partake drove her bananas.

But, that doesn't mean Trixie was 100% happy about this being the last trick-or-treating for her. Who wouldn't miss all that free candy and cash [with Maze by her side, like always]? That's why, for this last kid-like Halloween, Trixie is getting everyone together to celebrate!

"I'd love to know how this little meeting ended up at my penthouse." Lucifer groans. He leans against his bar and downs a shot of his usual drink.

"Because you lost last game night and owed her one." Chloe chuckles next to him and nudges. Lucifer rolls his eyes.

"Your spawn is a cheater."

"Gee, thanks. Wonder where she gets it from."

"You're welcome." Maze adds in.

"All right everyone! May I have your attention please!" Trixie steps away from baby Charlie to stand in front of the TV. She smiles when everyone looks to her, "Since this is my last trick-or-treat night I want to make it extra special! I would like you all to come out walking with me wearing costumes I picked for you, and then enjoying a little after party at Mom's place!"

"Don't you have other urchins around your age to do this with?" Lucifer says.

"If you have questions or comments you have to raise your hand!" Trixie says with hands on hips and a raised chin.

"Oh for the love of-" Chloe and Maze nudge him on either side. Trixie holds in her laughter. She loves pushing the Devil's buttons.

Lucifer raises his hand with an annoyed glare, "Yes, Lucifer?"

"Again, you little demon, why aren't you doing this with other urchins?"

"My friends are all too old already. Last year was it for the rest of them. Besides," Trxie looks back around the room and holds her arms out wide, "I'd much rather do this with you guys! You're more special to me!"

"Awww, and we love you too mini me!" Ella gushes. Her and Trixie fist bump the air.

"I'm sure everyone here would love to spend this Halloween with you, monkey." Chloe smiles. Everyone in the room, besides Lucifer and Charlie, smile and share their agreement.

"Awesome! Ok, so let me give you guys your costume pictures!" Trixie picks up her pink folder from the coffee table.

"Alright big me, I'd like you to be this!" Trixie hands Ella a piece of paper, "The family's crazy scientist!"

"Easy peasy!" Ella winks.

"Amy, Linda, and little Charlie, here's your costumes!" Trixie walks over to the family and hands them their papers. Amenadiel chokes on a laugh, holds his paper up to Lucifer and the Devil almost dies of laughter.

"I think it's very cute, Trixie!" Linda says. She grabs Amenadiel's paper so she can hold the three pictures together: Zeus, Alcmene, and Hercules.

Amenadiel groans, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"These are for you Mommy and Daddy!" Trixie hands a paper to both of her parents. Chloe's is a 1940s noir detective while Dan's is a classic black pants, black and white striped shirt, and black eye mask criminal.

The two parents share a look. Obviously their daughter knows more than they thought.

"Here's yours Maze!" Maze takes the paper and stifles a laugh.

"What is it?" Lucifer tries to look over but his demon hides the paper away.

She smiles at him, "Oh, you'll see. You'll love it." She snickers.

"Annnd lastly, Lucifer!" Trixie proudly hands him the last paper.

He doesn't take it. He's too appalled.

"You can not be serious." He says down at the little girl while Maze laughs hysterically.

"Oh come on, Lucifer. It can't be that bad." Chloe says and looks at the paper. She stares at the image of a drawn man, "Who is that anyway?"

"It's Lucifer!" Trixie says happily.

"Fake Lucifer. Why would I want to be a fake me?"

"Because the kid loves the comics." Maze says and lays her paper on the bar counter for Lucifer to see. It's the comic Mazikeen in her battle gear with the half white mask.

"Seriously?" He says.

"Well, you don't lie so I picked something where you won't have to pretend!" Trixie pipes in, "I think you two are pretty similar."

Lucifer groans. He wasn't about to tell the little urchin that she was right.

"It's just for one night, Lucifer. Besides, I'm curious how different you'll look." Chloe says eyeing him up.

Dad be damned, "Fine, fine." Lucifer takes the paper from Chloe and crosses his arms. He looks away so she doesn't see the blush.

"Yay!" Trixie runs back to her original spot and claps her hands, "This is going to be so much fun! One week everybody!"

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

Chloe, Dan, and Trixie are out for family day shopping for Halloween supplies.

Since no one would be home in either house there was no need to buy candy, but of course they get just as much as they usually do. Dan takes Trixie to look at all the Halloween decor while Chloe strolls through the costume aisles.

Luckily, she finds the correct outfits for her and Dan, as well as more accessories for Trixie's last President of Mars costume.

Before she rejoins them something catches the detective's eye. She stares at a picture and remembers Lucifer's words.

"How about a skimpy detective?"

"I'm not walking around half naked, Lucifer."

"Then how about being naked under that humongous trench coat?"

"Lucifer-"

"Come on, Detective! Give me something to look forward to!"

Chloe smiles. She takes the costume and goes to the cashier to purchase it. Hiding it in her purse so Dan and Trixie don't see, she bites her lip in excitement.

Hope he doesn't get offended…

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

"I feel ridiculous." Amenadiel mutters at his reflection.

"I quite like it." Linda comes in. She's holding a dressed up Charlie and stands next to Amenadiel, "I think you look beautiful."

"You look beautiful, Linda. And so does our son." Amenadiel smiles. He caresses Linda's face and runs his fingers through her curled ponytail, then gives his son a kiss on the cheek.

"Lore conflicts aside, I think this is an amazing family costume." Linda says. She smiles cheekily and tugs on Amenadiel's robes, "Easy to remove too."

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

"Annnd...TA-DA!" Ella jumps into her living room and spins around. She has that classic crazy old white hair wig on, a white lab coat with huge black buttons, arm length black gloves accompanied with thigh high black boots. She also has safety goggles on her head, and her lab coat is splattered with multiple colors.

"What cha think!?" Ella waits excitedly for an answer.

Margaret clucks once, then returns to her dinner.

Ella sighs and mutters, "Bob would be impressed…"

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

"I am not dying my hair!"

"You're acting like it's actually permanent. News flash: you're the Devil. Your hair will be back to normal in the morning."

"No."

Maze gives an over dramatic sigh, "Had a feeling this would happen. You got three options Lucifer: you let me bleach and dye your hair," she points to the products on the bathroom counter, "you let me use this non-permanent spray stuff, but I got to use a shit ton of it to make your hair blond," she points to the ten sprays of blond color, "oooor you wear this." Maze pulls out a blond wig from her duffle bag.

"That looks horrendous."

"Yeah, well it's the only one I got. It itches too."

"...The sprays?"

"Will most likely make your hair more banana colored."

Lucifer lets out a frustrated growl, "Fine! Do the damn dye."

"You've become such a baby, I swear." Maze mutters, but quickly gets to work before he changes his mind.

Hours past and Lucifer is officially blond. He inspects himself in the mirror, "Not bad right?" Maze smiles.

"I don't see how blond is better…"

"'Cuz blonds are hot, Lucifer."

Lucifer just hums in response. Maze opens up the bathroom cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving cream. She shoves the two items into his hands:

"Start working on that baby face. I'm going to change into my outfit."

More time passes. Maze comes back into the bathroom clad in her old light leather armor. She stares at Lucifer who is touching his clean shaven face.

"Smooth like a baby's bottom?" She jokes.

Lucifer, however, looks more somber, "More like back in Heaven."

"Ah…" Maze coughs. She rushes over and puts his arms down, "Here," she hands him a contact case containing blue colored contacts, "put these in so I can get started on that scar."

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

"You look amazing!" Trixie says to everyone as they enter her Mom's place. Each one also compliments her updated President of Mars outfit.

Everyone besides Lucifer and Maze are here, and Chloe gets a bit worried. She goes to text Lucifer when the door rings once more.

"Woooah!" Trixie says, mouth agape.

"Klein mensie." Maze says in her native tongue to Trixie. She smiles, a thing that looks eerie with the half mask on, and walks into the space.

"Holy cow! Lucifer! You look so different!"

"And it's all your fault, spawn."

Chloe speed walks to the open doorway and sees Lucifer. A different Lucifer. Pretty much the Lucifer from the comic come to life. He wore a simple black suit and tie, not too unusual, but coupled with the blond hair, blue eyes, face scar and clean face left Chloe speechless.

"Psst, mommy." Trixie pokes her, "You’re starting to drool."

Lucifer and Trixie laugh when Chloe's hand flies up to her face to wipe away the drool and shut her mouth. Trixie walks back to the living room so Lucifer can step closer to Chloe.

"I'm pleased all this torture hasn't gone to waste." Lucifer smiles seductively.

Chloe smiles back and steps into his open arms.

"Ok everyone!" Trixie yells while Lucifer and Chloe share a kiss, "Let's go get ourselves some candy!"

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

Trixie's last night of trick-or-treating went better than she expected. She received sooo much candy, and money thanks to Maze when her parents weren't looking, that she'll be set till next Halloween! When everyone returned to Chloe's place Trixie smiled warmly at how happy and carefree everyone looked.

No crimes to solve. No drama. No worries.

Amenadiel and Linda leave around 8 pm to get a very sleepy Charlie ready for bed. Dan leaves with Ella next when she tells him of a party she's going to. Chloe and Lucifer leave by 11pm to get ready for his own party.

Now Maze and Trixie were alone.

"Ready to start your first mischief night early, little human?"

Trixie smiles, all teeth, "Hell yeah!"

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

"So, you'll look normal again in the morning? That fast?" Chloe asks as she and Lucifer step into his penthouse.

"Good ol' angel genes, darling." He replies as he pours drinks.

"Hmm."

Lucifer looks at her, eyebrow raised in question, "Do you...like this look?"

"Not as much as your normal, no. But," Chloe runs her fingers through his blond hair, "it is...different." Lucifer closes his eyes and hums and the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

The two share a couple of drinks before the party officially starts downstairs. Feeling braver, thanks to the drinks, Chloe motions Lucifer to stand at the bottom of his stairs. She climbs up and stands in front of his bed.

"What are you planning, Detective?" Lucifer's smile is contagious.

"Your surprise."

Chloe slowly unbuttons her trench coat, taking in Lucifer's eyes following her movements. Once the last button is undone she shrugs off the coat while simultaneously throwing her fedora.

Lucifer sucks in air and slowly releases as his eyes roam her outfit. She was wearing a short tight red and black dress with fishnet tights. The top of the dress is cut dangerously low, showing much of her chest and stomach. She turns in a slow circle so Lucifer can see how the back bottom was basically a thong, with a classic devil tail attached.

When she faces him again one hand goes up to touch the horns on her head while the other slowly slides down her open chest, "So, what do you think?"

"I think," Lucifer stalks up the stairs, "that I'll never again be able to make fun of a devil costume thanks to you. Which means," Lucifer reaches her. He grabs her hair with one hand and tugs down, opening her neck to him. With the other hand he grabs her bottom.

His lips ghost over her ear, "you need to be punished, my delectable devil."

[zaraegis]

Come At The King| Part 3| T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: haha, blood, violence, descriptions of injuries, unhealthy alcoholism, underage drinking

Notes: Female pronouns are used for Dice in flashbacks before transitioning, just to be clear.

prev|next

/Casino King

So what he may have forgotten to tell Wheezy, was that he wasn't just going to challenge the Casino employees. But that he was going to sell his soul to the Devil to do have a fair chance to do it.

It seems like the most straightforward way. He wants his reputation to be ironclad, and his title to be unwinnable until they've paid the price he had. Also, if the Devil holds his soul contract, then he's automatically off open season for any Tom, Dick or Harry who wants his head.

It'd be nice to live without the crushing paranoia he's had for the past ten years after his "retirement".

So that leads him to here, in his new white shoes and slacks, all carefully padded so nothing clinks and all ten decks are well hidden within the finely tailored suit. Lucky purple bow tie in place and all. Waiting.

In the Devil's Casino. For his appointment.

He sits still enough that wandering denizens of hell, do a double take at the sight of him. He's kept the full force on his smile on the skeleton across from him for the past half hour and hasn't batted one perfectly lined eyelid.

The skeleton shifts the slightest bit and he can feel his smile turn mean, thankful Wheezy isn't here to try to save the hapless victim-

"Sir? Your appointment?"

He looks at the skeleton secretary. He nods to her and pretends not to notice the rattling of the skeleton in the other waiting chair. It's Polite not to call attention to other's fear responses.

"Thank you, I'll make my own way up, don't trouble yourself."

"Oh!" The skeleton flutters before smiling and waving at him. He doesn't know if skeletons can do anything else but smile, really. Well, he hums as he enters the ornate elevator that will take him to the owner, he knows they also shake in fear like everyone else.

What a fun trip it's been so far.

-

"You...made an appointment." The Devil repeats incredulously. The Devil was...fuzzier than Dice was led to believe. The horns are cool though. So is the trident propped up behind his ornate desk.

"Yes. I didn't want to trouble you unduly. So it seemed like the thing to do." King Dice feels like Wheezy would be proud of him at this moment. Not the selling the soul bit oh no- he's going to be furious about that. But look at him, being a law abiding member of society and all that jazz. Making appointments and being an adult. Someday he might even go to a doctor instead of stitching up his own wounds. Wild.

He might be a touch too giddy. But lifelong dreams and all that.

The Devil rubs a clawed hand over his face. The cigar in his mouth puffing wildly. "This is so weird." he can hear him mutter. Inhaling loudly the Devil looks back up and tries to explain:

"Usually, people burst in dramatically, or summon me, or play in the casino and then we make a deal."

Dice blinks two perfectly lined eyes."Well, I didn't want to get a leg up on the competition beforehand. It's not sporting."

The Devil is temporarily distracted. This whole situation was throwing him off. Time to get back to familiar ground.

"So what do you want in exchange for your immortal soul?"

The lights in the office flicker omniously, there's a darkening in the colors of the room, like something Dice couldn't see was weighing everything down.

Dice places his terms in front of The Devil. The dramatic lighting cuts short and The Devil grumbles loudly, "Don't tell me you're a lawyer."

Biting back an undignified laugh, Dice shakes his head.

The Devil reads the paper, and looks back up with a raised eyebrow. "You don't just want me to make you king of all games or something?"

King Dice smiles. It seems like he'll never stop having to say it to people. "I'm already King. I just want to prove it once and for all."

"You might not even get the title kid, and then you'd have sold your soul for nothing."

"Are all the casino employees the best in their field or not?" King Dice asks sharply, leaning forward.

The Devil frowns at his taunting, "They are." He growls.

"Then that's all that matters to me. Winning. It's not a game if there's no risk." He doesn't remember standing up to try to loom over someone who probably invented looming. "A chance. That's all I need. And I'm willing to pay my soul for it."

He hold his gloved hand out for a shake. "Deal?"

The Devil shoots out an unnaturally strong hand to grip his in a handshake that feels like liquid fire.

"Deal."

-

He and his small luggage are taken to a guest suite that looks like a bigger nicer version of his own apartment. Sans the tipsy hothead on his sofa.

He hopes the bar is doing well. He's never been away so long before.

A knock on his door moves him from his absent gazing out the window into what is most certainly Hell. He opens the door to a beautiful elegant woman who inclines her head at him. "King Dice?"

"Ma'am." He bows slightly and lets her in.

"You are the one who wishes to challenge?" She perches daintily on the pure white sofa. Dice is kind of afraid he'll stain the sofa if he so much as breathes near it.

"Yes, you must be Pirouletta. It is an honor to meet you."

She smiles and arranges her checkered skirt, "You have manners, how... refreshing."

They make chit-chat. The exact kind that grates on his nerves but he's still giddy from everything so he serves her tea and finds some cookies to plate up. While they nibble on snacks she gives him his 'schedule' for the upcoming week.

"You'll fight each of us everyday this week. Pip and Dot always fight together so 8 challengers in 7 days. It's the only way we can continue to run the Casino while this is going on and bring in a good crowd. You understand."

Dice nods, and before he can stop it, laughs out of sheer excitement. Pirouletta pauses in the act of bringing her cup up to sip.

"What a lovely smile, dear. I hope you survive the week."

-

The first fight takes place in the Casino, strangely enough. There's a pool table that the Devil shrinks them for, so that every curious casino goer could see the fight. Dice looks down at himself, now the size of a hand, and feels something welling up in his throat.

Looking up at the Devil, who's lounging at the other end of the table amongst cheering demons, ghosts and skeletons he wonders if it's fear.

When he sees his opponent squaring up, Mangosteen, now many many times smaller and only a head (presumably his arms would get in the way?) he feels his heart racing and smiles.

"A good day for a swell battle!" He hears over the noise of everything. "You're UP!"

Then he laughs, an eerie sound that seems to cut through the crowd's cheers. He doesn't pay attention to how the crowd quiets at that for a bit, everyone strangely unsettled. The Devil keeps his grin in place, eyes focused on the white-suited challenger.

Finally, minutes later and with Mangosteen worryingly vomiting up what seems to be his guts, Dice realizes what he's been feeling.

Excitement.

-

Wheezy sighs at finally reaching Inkwell Hell. He's dusty, tired and still vaguely nauseous from the boatride but dammit he's going to watch his best friend beat the Devil's Casino no matter what.

It's emptier than he thought it'd be.

He makes his way to the bar, something soothingly familiar. A short man in a server uniform is on a stool, standing to try to see over what seems to be a crowd but sounds like a boxing match. The lady nods at him and quirks a brow at his suitcase.

"What'll ya have darlin'?"

"A glass of water ma'am."

There's a guy as big as he is who frowns at him, "You a teetotaler or somethin'?" Wheezy laughs at that.

"Naw, just celebrating something. Do you know where I could find someone called King Dice?"

As the man sets his drink down in front of him, the gal jabs one finely painted nail to the middle of the screaming crowd.

Wheezy sighs into his water, "Figures" he mutters before he knocks it back.

-

He makes his way through the crowd, thankful of his bulk. He didn't have Dice's pointy elbows or his willingness to use them to make a path.

He ends up in what seems to be a domino table. Except, there's a grinding wall of spikes on one end of a conveyor belt. That his friend is running on.

He rubs his eyes.

Dice is...like five inches tall. What the hell...

On the other side of the conveyor belt are two dominoes swinging with the meanest grins he's ever seen. Dice is dodging strange winged creatures and seems to be shooting...cards.

Oh god I hope he's not using the deck with the sharp edges.

He'd seen Dice slice a block of wood in half with one well flicked card, it was kind of horrifying.

The two swinging split open and spit out a bright pink many sided die. Ooo, bad move.

Dice bounces himself off the spike wall and just...punches the dice back at them. Wheezy is pretty sure his brass knuckles are under those suspicious gloves now that he thinks about it.

A loud bell announces the end of the match, the vicious lower domino kicks the upper one in an impressive show of flexibility and rage. But Wheezy only has eyes for the tiny white-suited figure of his friend.

Without thinking he reaches in and picks up the small Dice. Dice whirls around with one of those terrifying sneers, still panting from presumably running nonstop the whole battle. But he perks up right quick when he sees Wheezy.

"WHEEZE!" His voice is TINY. Wheezy is going to die because he cooed at Dice and got his fool self murdered. "HOW ARE YOU HERE??"

He seems to be unaware he's shouting, although that might be the only way to get heard over this crowd. Dice collapses back on his open palm as Wheezy raises him up to eye-level.

"I couldn't miss this. You've only been talking about it for the past eight years Dice."

Out of nowhere Dice grows a couple of feet and Wheezy is left holding him up until he fills out completely. Luckily, he's as bafflingly light as ever.

Dice thanks him but Wheezy catches the annoyed flicker of an eye towards a corner. He casually glances that way and sees what could only be the casino owner.

The Devil.

He's ...fuzzier than Wheezy thought he'd be. He's also got one of those terrifying smiles in their direction.

Distracted with that, Dice steals his handkerchief from the inside of his coat, to pat at the sweat on his face before it stains his clothes. Wheezy tries to put that unsettling yellow and red stare out of his mind.

"You're out of shape."

"Shut up." Dice beams. Jeez, he's positively giddy, Wheezy hasn't seen him be this chipper since the last time someone challenged him to darts. He's grabbed and dragged back to the bar to escape the pressing crowd that's slow to disperse.

"Wheezy, these are Ms.Martini, Mr.Whisky and Mr.Scotch." He introduces the three. Wheezy takes off his hat and shakes hands with everybody, kissing the back of Ms. Martini's hand to her delight.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all."

They make polite small talk while Dice drains three cups of water in rapid succession. They kind of watch him incredulously, but Wheezy has long grown used to Dice's ability to just...not need to breath for a long time.

"Three matches left my dear, how are you feeling?"

A beautiful lady in a roulette checkered dress glides towards them, she's got a sly smile on and Wheezy can barely keep her gaze. She moves like a dancer, he thinks.

"I'm feeling good. Ah, Pirouletta this is my good friend, Mr. Wheezy."

"It's an honor to meet you ma'am." Wow, he's never felt so grubby in his life. He forgot to shave this morning. Oh god, this is terrible-

"Another gentleman I see," She hold out her hand and curtsies shallowly as he places a kiss on the air above her knuckles. Dice is smiling widely at him, canines dangerously glinting in the casino light. He's never going to live this down, he knows.

"Will you be staying to support your friend, Mr.Wheezy?"

"Ah yes, I wouldn't miss it for the world." He puts an arm around Dice's shoulders, squeezing lightly. He thinks he can feel Dice vibrating in place.

"Will you be requiring a guest room? I can make sure you're accommodated." Was she the manager? She seemed like an important person if she could do something like that.

"Well, I-"

"He'll be staying with me." Dice interrupts, green eyes pale and smile still in place. Wheezy has half a mind to object out of fear of declining anything to the lady's face, but that was basically what he'd been hoping for as well.

Pirouetta raises one fine eyebrow and inclines her head with a smile. "Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then, King Dice. Mr.Wheezy."

She glides off and Wheezy is left feeling his cheeks redden. He looks down to see Dice's judging eyebrow. "Shut your gob. Take us to your rooms."

They waved to the bartenders, who had been busy filling out orders as patrons trickled back to all corners of the casino.

-

Wheezy stares. "It's..."

"Big, I know. I keep feeling like someone is hiding in it, it's so big."

He's set his dusty suitcase by the door, looking at the fancy white walls and white carpeting in trepidation. Then he sees the sofa.

"I'm kind of scared to go near it."

Dice laughs, carefully stripping off his suit and vest. Despite his words, he seems already used to the opulence of the room enough to mess it up with hangers everywhere and what seems to be three different decks splayed across the dining table.

"There's a table. How's it feel to be so fancy?" He ribs.

Dice snorts while unbuttoning his shirt. Everything is white except for the bow tie he'd bought Dice as a present. He makes his way over, suit jacket in hand to help Dice with his binder.

There's some slight bruising, and Dice probably hadn't been breathing well by the end of all that running with it on. Wheezy makes a protesting noise but Dice flaps his hand at him. "It's fine, those were just some hits that Chips Bettigan got in yesterday."

"Leave it off for a while," Dice opens his mouth, but Wheezy cuts him off, "I know- I know. Ruins the lines of your suits and all that. Just for tonight then. Give your ribs some rest."

Dice laughs and shoots off an insouciant "Yes, mother.". Wheezy slaps his ass in retaliation like some nickering horse at the races and has to duck the spray of harmless cards. He's never forgotten that poor block of wood.

"So, how long can you stay?" Dice asks, folding his pants up neatly and meandering towards the bathroom in nothing but his boxers and sock garters. He looks like some strange advert for menswear.

Wheezy shrugs, even though the other can't see, wandering the strange suite,"As long as it takes you to finish, I guess. I got two weeks off."

"Nice!" comes out muffled from the open bathroom. Steam is coming out from the fancy glass shower. There's a hot tub next to it. Wheezy is kind of insanely curious about it, but ducks back out and checks the next room. It's the bedroom.

Where the living room is all white, the bedroom is done in tasteful shades of black. The bed could fit five people comfortably and has what are probably silk sheets. It is of course, scarily neat and looks unlived in. Dice's work.

He goes back and is entranced by the fiery depths of hell out of the big windows until a freshly showered Dice throws a plush black towel at him.

"Go shower, you smell like a bar."

"Piss off."

Cackling, Dice dodges his halfhearted swipe and goes to the shiny black phone to order dinner for them both.

A while later he hears Wheezy shout from the bathroom, "There's fancy shaving cream in here!"

Dice snorts and shouts back, "It's to keep my mustache nice and groomed!"

There's a laugh before the clinking of bottles. "I'm going to use it!"

"It's too late, Pirouletta saw you with that scruff." Dice sing-songs back, rifling through Wheezy's stuff for a change of clothes he forgot to take with him. "She won't recognize you otherwise!"

There's a pause and then Wheezy sticks his head out of the bathroom, chin and cheeks lathered up with shaving cream. He points the straight razor at him. "You think you're funny, Dicey, but you're not."

"I think I'm hilarious."

They're interrupted by a soft knocking and Dice goes to take the platters from the server while Wheezy finishes beautifying.

-

After the fancy dinner, Wheezy will just call everything in this place fancy, they avoid the couch and decide to lounge around the bed. It's not as nerve wracking.

"Black hides the bloodstains best, didn't you say that?" Wheezy mumbles sleepily, victorious after gathering half the pillows around him to keep them from Dice's pillow thieving ways. There comes a sleepy affirmative from the other side of the bed, where Dice is curled up almost into a ball. They've made strange nests out of the exaggerated amount of pillows on the bed.

Who would ever use so many pillows?

They've shared a bed before, but it was Dice's small one. It was either curl up together or fall off. Dice didn't make much noise but woke up on a hair trigger and came up swinging. This huge bed would hopefully keep Wheezy out of punching range.

That was the last thought he had before he dozed off all the way.

[zaraegis]

Come At The King|Part 4| T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: haha, violence, descriptions of injuries, hints of past unhealthy alcoholism, 

Notes: BE SAFE WHILE WEARING A BINDER, DON’T BE A DICE.

Prev|Next

/Casino Rounds

The next match had Wheezy standing uneasily next to a lounging Devil. He swore he could hear unearthly chanting at the edge of his hearing every so often, emanating from his left, where the man was sat in a gold and red throne. Creepy.

His attention was caught by a small sound of pain coming from Dice. He was fighting the magician, Hopus Pocus. One of the swirling rabbit skulls had clipped him and exploded. It left an ashy mark on his white suit and despite the trepidation Wheezy felt at a solid hit, he laughed at the outraged look on Dice's face.

His arm was probably smarting right now, but he bet anything it was the marring of his suit that had Dice in a tizzy.

The small Dice looked up annoyed at the suit balloons that threatened to clip him as they fell, and threw a suspiciously glinting card up, popping the one directly above him. He slapped his palms together and a glowing pink die appeared between his fingers. Oh no. Not the smoke bomb.

There was the clinking of a dice spinning and hitting the floor between the two combatants before the arena was plunged into a smoke cloud. Wheezy waved away the smoke from his face, squinting to see two darkened smudges moving in the smoke. There were the sounds of more of those skulls exploding but nothing from Dice, which was typical. Then he saw Dice shoot up, jumping off something, another round of skulls?, to bring him back down precisely where Hopus was.

There was a pang of sympathy for the rabbit. Dice got really mad when his suits were messed with.

The knockout bell rang as soon as Dice started to use Hopus' bow tie as his own garrotte. Wheezy covered his face in second-hand embarrassment. The Devil chuckled next to him.

"Vicious little thing isn't he?"

Wheezy was startled, he'd forgotten the man was there holy shit, but he loyally lied, "Well, not- not when you get to know him!"

The arena was clear of smoke by now so Wheezy could see Dice hopping up and down to get his attention. He obligingly picked him up and let him stand on his palm as he stared down the Devil with something Wheezy could only describe as nonverbal polite demand.

With a snap of his fingers, (claws???), Dice was once again tall. Relatively speaking- Wheezy had him beat by quite a few inches. He was patting at his suit jacket with a frown, Wheezy wiping away the soot ignored on his face.

"It's fine, let's go look at that arm."

"My arm? I don't care, I need to get this to a dry cleaner."

Wheezy looked up at the ceiling, wishing for more patience to deal with this...this blockhead.

Dice twitched and squinted at him. "You just thought the word blockhead didn't you?"

"No." Wheezy lied.

"You have that face- don't lie-" Dice started, but was cut off by the Devil that they'd both ignored. That was probably a terribly survival instinct.

"We got people here for that," his voice was amused even as he continued lounging carelessly. "Someone will get it and return it back to you tomorrow. You'll want to look your best for Phear Lap."

Dice eyed him and slowly stopped patting at his arm. He smoothly tucked that arm into his chest and bowed over it. Singed arm suspiciously still at his side.

"Thank you, sir."

They were waved off shortly afterward and made themselves scarce to patch up Dice for his next match. There was a package of medicinal bath salts waiting for them in the suite when they got back. It was signed, "Pirouetta".

"Bless that woman." Wheezy muttered as Dice struggled out of his clothes with one arm gingerly held stiff. After helping him with that, Wheezy firmly steered Dice towards the steaming hot tub and dumped half the salts in. The water came up to his shoulders and while Dice hissed at the heat reaching the ugly bruise and welting burns on his arm he slowly relaxed back into it and soaked.

When Wheezy checked went back outside, he saw the suit was indeed gone.

-

"I can breath better now, what is this stuff?" Dice frowned down at the water, curiously poking his own ribs.

"I don't know but it smells like creme de menthe." Wheezy admitted, looking through the first aid kit for burn ointment and bandages. He missed the look Dice shot him, which was for the best.

After drying off and wrapping up the arm, Dice huddled in a soft thick bathrobe at the breakfast bar and watched Wheezy make some kind of seared meat and rice plate. It made the suite smell delicious.

"Are you sure you can't just take the next match on without the binder? Your ribs are just getting worse." Wheezy complained.

Dice frowned, He knew he was straining them, especially since he'd forgotten to take it off the first couple of days here. A dumb move that was hindering him now. How irritating.

"The weight will throw off my balance." He explained. It wasn't much weight but he'd been doing all his exercises and workouts with a binder for so long, he could feel the difference when he removes it.

"Shit." Wheezy mutters. "You can't afford to lag with the stuff these guys throw at you."

Dice's arm still twinged slightly but it wasn't as bad as they originally thought, the burns felt more like a bad sunburn and the bruise was a familiar strain.

"It'll be fine, don't worry." Dice assures him, doing some gentle stretches as Wheezy's plating up some food for them. The unimpressed look the man gives him is totally unfair.

-

The suit was there, freshly pressed and almost blinding white even amongst the white sofa. Dice hummed, impressed. Wheezy rolled his eyes. Dice and his thing about cleanliness.

After a light breakfast of fruits they made their way down to the next fight. Dice lit up at the sight of a single seat aeroplane.

Slapping his arm lightly in excitement, Dice muttered,"You'll love this. I get to fly a plane!"

"Jesus wept, I'm genuinely scared now." Wheezy muttered back. Dice huffed and took off his jacket.

"Yeah yeah. Here, hold onto this for me will ya?" Wheezy did as he was told, feeling like some valet as everyone watched Dice make his way to the plane. He caught the edges of the cockpit and vaulted himself up in an impressive display of flexibility and abdominal muscles.

It probably seriously stung his hurt arm. His face didn't show it. What a little-

"His arm is better then?" A voice cut through the murmurs around him. It was Pirouetta. Wheezy resisted the urge to check that his face wasn't as scruffy as the first time they met.

"Yes. Thank you, by the way. For the salts." He hoped he wasn't stuttering. This was possibly even more nerve wracking than spending yesterday standing next to the Devil.

She smiles at him, the dry humor in her face never faltering even as the Devil himself stepped between them to reach the throne that had appeared besides Wheezy sometime between Dice leaving and Pirouetta's greeting.

Wheezy can feel his collar heating up out of nerves, now firmly bookended by the Casino owner and manager. Oh boy...

"Ready?" The Devil growled out, over the roar of the crowd. It seems even bigger than the previous ones. Wheezy wonders if there is anyone who won't hear about King after this. There's a voice that booms, "Ready? IT'S ON."

The arena this time is set above a race track. Phear Lap is a spry old timer with a lime green visor and exploding presents that force Dice to do some risky maneuvers to avoid getting hit. There's riders streaming below them both that takes potshots at Dice's plane every so often.

It's getting to about the middle of the match when Dice seems to just lose it and starts fumbling one-handedly at his bow tie. He frees the purple cloth and-

"Is he..." Wheezy squints, incredulous,"Tying the controls together?" He is, isn't he. Oh no.

Pirouetta and the Devil lean forward at this, and raise a synchronized eyebrow when Dice jumps out of the cockpit and balances on the wings of the cruising plane. It seems to give even Phear a pause with the sheer lunacy of the move.

Dice shuffles a suspiciously familiar deck and with a nonchalance that should not be possible that high up and at that cruising speed, springs the deck from one hand to the other.

Everyone can hear the faint, smug, "Pick a card! Any card." That he tells Phear.

Wheezy would put his head in his hands in sheer exasperation if he could take his eyes from the scene happening in the air. Everyone is similarly hushed. Oh good, no one is really used to the ridiculousness that King Dice at full blast tends to bring.

Almost reluctantly, Phear shoot another gift at him, and when it explodes into gold gleaming horseshoes, Dice-

Dice moves.

He's almost blurred with the sheer speed of it. Eight cards are quickly flung with unerring accuracy away from Dice. Wheezy knows if they were actual metal horseshoes, they'd be cut clean through.

Phear Lap jerks awkwardly in the air, to Wheezy's confusion. He's dodging something, but what-

Dice hadn't stopped at eight cards, of course, and was aiming for Phear himself with the lethally sharp deck. He hadn't stopped smiling.

His eyes are glowing a cold mint green, leaving behind a faint color trail as he tilts his plane by shifting his weight. Dice is charging the sharp cards with magic. That's never good.

A royal flush strikes Phear Lap's aircraft head on which knocks it off course. He skids on the ground, leaving a dark grey dust cloud that highlights the stark white of Dice's suited figure. He does an irritating little hop to bring his legs back together and drops into the cockpit to land the plane.

Wheezy kind of wants to throttle him for this harebrained stunt, but he feels like that all the time when Dice does this.

Not that he rides many aeroplanes, thank God, but any chance to show off and flex his skills, he's quick to take. 'I'm getting rusty, Wheeze.' 'I can feel my muscles turning to flab Wheeze.' Bah.

"He's certainly something, your man Dice." The Devil hums. Wheeze laughs weakly. That seemed to sum up King Dice quite well. Pirouetta and her boss exchange a quick glance that sets his teeth on edge. There's something there that he doesn't like.

When Dice makes his way over to them, smiling tightly at the kind but unwanted pats and congratulatory thumps on his shoulders. No wonder though, he hasn't retied his bow tie and the collar of his shirt is windswept and rakish. He looks like a handsome devil-may-care flyboy.

He almost bounces up to Wheezy, and does nothing except beam up at him until the older man puts one hand over that expression and grumbles, "Fine, that was a pretty cool trick, don't look so smug."

There are some muffled titters coming from his hand and he keeps it there to spare the people around them the horror of a maniacally cackling Dice. No one needs to hear that.

-

Later on, Wheezy lights up and carefully puts his hot hands on Dice's spine to ease the muscle strain the binder leaves. One more opponent left, though, so Wheezy doesn't bother Dice about the idiocy of leaving it on for too long this night.

"Pirouetta and her boss are up to something." He mentions. Sometimes Dice has a sixth sense for these things, but other times the nuances of social mores fly by him. It's hit or miss.

"I know." He sighs, stretching under Wheezy's hands, stopping when his ribs gently protest. He pauses and does it again. "But I think she's fond of me, so hopefully it's not my impending demise."

"Please don't talk about death threats so nonchalantly." Wheezy complains. Dice laughs quietly.

There's comfortable silence as they try to minimize the ache in Dice's ribs.

This time they curl up together, Dice greedily soaking in all the heat Wheezy gives off. They drowse until Wheezy murmurs to him, "Do you know what you're gonna do for Pirouetta?"

"Smoke and mirrors." Dice mumbles back, before dropping off.