Death Ment Tw - Blog Posts

Gallagher x Reader; The Devil in Disguise

Pairings; Reader x Gallagher

Warnings; HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE 2.1 QUEST, also this isn’t canon, in other words the way they implied stuff at the end may be there to throw us off, this is a “what if”, if what was implied is true. Death mention, secrets, suspicions, already established relationship between the two

Creek

You glanced up to see a slightly tired Gallagher enter the room, noticing he looked slightly disheveled, on top of that he was a bit late.

“Gallagher? Are you okay, why are you so messy, didn’t you say you were having a meeting in regards to your job?” You headed over to him to help remove his vest and accessories, suddenly he grabbed your hand a bit frantically but nonetheless gave you a smile,

“I’m fine hon, just a bit of trouble on the way here, some hooligans on the streets were a bit to drunk,” he chuckled, and once again smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

You knew something was up for a few days now, despite the fact that he kept his calm demeanour and relaxed behaviour, you knew something was up, and well it made sense. He explained to you that “Death” was among the dreamers and that a stowaway and the famous singer Robin, had been killed, thus he asked if you could simply stay inside. You knew he was working off the clock to figure out who could be behind it, but even so there was something…off…

You have known him for years now. How he approached you on the streets complementing you and serving you a drink, he wasn’t a bartender then, but he was exceptionally good. You eventually figured out his ties to the bloodhound family, which you didn’t mind but you found it odd how many of his coworkers never recognised him, to which he told you he simply did most of the work in the shadows.

Even with your suspicions you chalked it up to him being exhausted and him trying to prevent “Death” from taking any more people, so you simply kissed his cheek and told him you would prepare dinner, as well as the fact that he should go shower, to which he said he would as he headed for the bathroom.

Once he was in he closed the door and sighed. “Almost got caught,” he thought as he looked down at the inside of his vest and gloves, covered in the goo. He used them to cover up the remains of Sunday but he was also careful you wouldn’t find any of it on him and question him. He sighed again upon thinking of the events that had occurred before.

So what if he killed two prominent members of the family? The family, the supposed family that was open to peace and harmony, the family that had took away so much from many, the family that outed Mikhail as a traitor…Mikhail.

He would be lying to say he was doing all of this solely for Mikhail, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t one of his motives. Guilt eventually came at him for betraying his old companion, and then anger seeped in when figuring out that the family wasn’t all so innocent either. Naturally before he could strike he needed a good alias, and that’s where you came in.

He knew once a killer was a front, people would be less likely to suspect someone who not only was high in terms of security but also someone who had a lover, after all why risk their lover’s security when he planned to kill right? He knew you were the right one when meeting you, he complimented your looks to start small talk, not that he didn’t think you weren’t pretty, you were gorgeous. Then he kept meeting up with you and eventually you agreed to be his lover. At first everything was going according to plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was using you from the beginning and yet, he grew fond of you, he truly cared about you and knew what he was doing could put you at risk, yet he was to far in deep to turn around and prioritised his plan above all. He wanted to break things off to protect you but at the same time, he couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why.

He knew he wasn’t a good person, and knew you would be better off if you both were not together, but still. He didn’t know if it was love or simply respect, or anything in between but he truly did want to stay with you.

But it’s fine, all he has to do is to carry out the remaining tasks and finish his plan while also protecting you, and continue being a “minion”, of the enigmata without you knowing. All he has to do was continue to keep up his facade without any suspicion, all he ha-

“Gallagher, honey?” Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, wow he was actually getting into this anti hero role wasn’t he? “Are you okay? Do you need me to come in? You’ve been in there for a while and I didn’t hear any shower, just some mumbling…”

“Don’t worry! I was just zoning out, I’ll be out in a moment love, just give me some time,” he replied almost immediately. After hearing your footsteps leave he cleaned what he could of his clothing and took a nice shower before changing and coming outside to you setting the food on the table. “It’s fine, it will be over soon,” he thought as he headed to the table. Even if it ends with deception, he just needs to be secretive just a tad bit longer and everything will be okay…

“A complete Gallagher,” he recalled Sundays words, yes, he would just have to continue on and be nothing but a Gallagher to his “beloved,” if not for your sake, then for his own.

Once again nothing is canon, just my personal interpretation of him and his lover at the end of the quests, I hope you enjoyed this fic!

How would Spy react to not being able to find his knife, only to see some little kid messing with it?

LET ME SEE WHAT YOU HAVE,

A KNIFE!

NO!

SMALL CHILD WIELDS SHARP OBJECT, LOCAL SPY CONFOUNDED!

His first feelings would likely be of confusion, anger, followed by seething rage when he noticed his knife was missing. After all, he was the Spy, no filthy pickpocket could simply take it. There was no way he had forgotten it either, as he triple checked his belongings and kept them on his person at all times. Being in public, there was no way for Spy to necessarily do much about it. He couldn’t just shout “WHERE IS MY KNIFE?!” To the world, and so he forces a deep breath and begins to search, splitting off from the team and looking about without garnering attention, as if he were merely a tourist.

At first, he had expected to be looking for any suspicious individuals, not anyone barely up to his middle in height. Yet, after a minute or two of scanning the room, there had been no other options, and right there. A lone child, holding a knife.

They were practically begging to be yelled at, dragged by the ear and taken to their guardians for such a bold defiance of all things he held dear, yet… It seemed the child had no parents in their midst. They were enthralled by the blade, flicking it between their fingers and trying to get the butterfly knife to do a trick or two, the light metal clattering far less satisfyingly in their smaller hands. Yet, while not masterful, the little kid treated the weapon with respectful caution, lacking precision but aware that their plaything was dangerous and sharp.

Spy found himself staring, rather than doing anything about it. Nothing about their appearance resembled his son, it wasn’t as if he had reason to not snatch it away and be done with it, yet here he was. Perhaps he saw a bit of his younger self in their eyes, or in the way they had healthy caution for the unknown, yet played with it anyway. 

Eventually, he exhaled and wandered over to the child, unsure what angle with which to approach the situation. Putting out his cigarette and kneeling down to get to eye level, he left a hand outstretched for them to return the knife, frowning.

“This is mine, mon petit, may I have it back…?

The child seems afraid, immediately shocked that they were caught. They shake their head, mumbling a “noo…”

“And why is that?” He has to force himself to be patient. Interacting with children is not his forte, but perhaps it feels like a second chance.

 Reminding himself this is a stranger, but unwilling to walk away without at least getting his knife back, and giving the child reason not to do such a thing again.

They blink, looking down at the butterfly knife. “Cause it’s pretty and feels good to use… Whus your accent from? S’all sounds pretty...”

Spy, shocked by the answer, goes silent, before sighing.

“Well, it is unwise to play with dangerous objects, mon ami. And… It is French. Do you know French?”

“My momma was from France! I knew I recognized th’ talking…”

“And where is she now..?”

The child’s expression immediately falls, and Spy needs no verbal answer to know what may have happened.

“Have you any other guardians?”

They shake their head, pointing down the road towards the old orphanage, shrugging sadly.

“Don’ matter, s'alright…”

There was the anger again, but now tenfold. Not at this child, but at himself. Of course he had to converse with the child, feel protective, now look at him. He had a job to do, he should have just grabbed the knife and went on with his day. 

When they finished talking, and Spy had left, there was a hollow feeling in his chest. Guilt, was it? Insecurity? Knowing the effect of not being present, it felt as if perhaps he was being given a second chance, yet he wasn’t sure how willing he was to throw it away.

Returning to the base, there were quite a few phone calls made to Miss Pauling, then the Administrator herself. Paperwork, negotiations, how in gods name would he work this out- Convincing Miss Pauling to allow a child into the base-- so long as battles were separate and hidden from their view, had been a breeze, but it was the Administrator, a cold, cruel hag of a woman whom he knew would take issue with the idea. It was to the point that he had been conversing through the night, even just in his white button up and suit pants, but he continued to talk.

What would his teammates think? He dreaded to find out, he merely hoped none of them would question it or tease him, but he knew he would come under fire, if only because he was the Spy, an uncaring, cold, emotionless figure.

At the very least, he knew he had time to pass, since the time in which it would take to get the paperwork in order, a new room built, etcetera, would give him ample time to learn more about who it is he was about to bring to the base.

That next day, a child wakes up to a gift by an unknown donator, all they know is it was a man with a vest and tie, with salt and pepper hair, inside of which is the materials to make the popsicle stick butterfly knife, a soft rabbit plushie, and a note written in a very simple cipher for them to solve.

“Pack your things in two weeks, If you see a woman in purple, she is your friend.”