DISCLAIMER: This story is not mine to claim. It is the plot of Rock Chick with the characters of Fairy Tail. I own neither.
I've wanted to put these two worlds together for the longest time now, as they are both very dear to me. Plus, they're both very kickass and entertaining, and I wanted the rest of the fandom to love both as much as I do. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy.
Until now, I've never been in trouble with the law. It's cosmically impossible. I'm a cop's daughter.
Cop's Daughter Karma protects me, and seeing as I'm not a drug dealer, drug addict, thief, prostitute, gangster or murderer (all traits that would negate Cop's Daughter Karma), I'm protected.
That isn't to say I haven't done my fair share of stupid things that aren't exactly law abiding. In fact, I've done plenty of things that aren't exactly law abiding.
Let's see. . .
I've had a number of parking tickets, but they don't really count. I've been stopped for speeding on occasion, though I never got a ticket. I've been known to jaywalk when I'm in a hurry (which is a lot).
Further possibly-non-law-abiding exploits include that I conned my way backstage at an Aerosmith concert. I went so far as to touch Joe Perry's chest with the very tips of my fingers, and after making contact I felt an electric spasm of sheer delight fly through me (especially certain parts of me) that has gone unmatched before or since. Unfortunately, I just barely managed to get the touch in before security hauled me out.
I'm not sure it's against the law to lie your way backstage and touch Joe Perry's chest, but considering the experience had to be far more satisfying than many illegal activities, it should be.
But, thirty minutes ago, my employee, Vijeeter, told me something I really didn't want to hear. Now, Vijeeter could be difficult, but this was ridiculous. And he'd involved another employee (and one of my favorite people in the world), Loke.
Ten minutes ago, Vijeeter and I locked up and stood at the front of my book store, Fairy Tail, wondering what in the heck to do about that something. Then two guys came up to us. We had some words that did not go so well (and if I'm being honest, it didn't go well because of me) and then they shot at us.
Shot. At. Us. With guns. Guns filled with bullets.
We made a hasty getaway, which, luckily, didn't leave a trail of our blood behind.
Now we were in my car, hyperventilating, sitting in the dark corner of an alleyway in the bowels of Magnolia. I'm staring at my cell phone wondering what in the fucking hell to do.
Let's rewind.
I'm Lucy Heartfillia. I'm Jude Heartfillia's daughter, and basically every cop knows me, even the rookies. That's because when I was young, I spent a lot of time at the station waiting for Dad or chilling with Dad's friends. Oh, and Dad and I still go together to the Fraternal Order of Police (or FOP) BBQ's.
There is also the little detail of looking the way I look. I'm not bragging by any means, it's just that being a cop means you have an overabundance of testosterone, and, well, I'm a girl. Most of Dad's colleagues noticed me from about the age of sixteen. Unfortunately, if any of them touched me (even after I came of age), the others would have shot him.
Such is the life of a cop's daughter. You take the highs with the lows.
In my not-so-clean-and-tidy-past, I was caught one night by Dad's friends, Gildarts Clive and Hibiki Lates. My best friend, Cana Dragneel, and I were underage drinking and were taken to the station. My Dad had not been angry at this childish stunt. He had one kid and a dead wife. He'd been hoping for a boy to come along, but my mom died when I was five. Seeing as they had their hands full with me, they just never got around to it, and Dad had never gotten over Mom enough to find another wife.
Dad always said Layla Heartfillia wasn't the kind of woman you got over. He also said I looked a lot like her, and that the pictures prove it. Everyone says I look exactly like her.
Anyway, Dad thought my drinking binge was kind of cute, and if I'd been a boy, my getting picked up by his cronies would have been a rite of passage. His best friend and long time partner, Igneel Dragneel, agreed.
Igneel's wife, Grandine, was my mom's best friend and the woman who swore to my mother on her deathbed that she would help Dad raise me right, so she didn't find my short lived incarceration amusing. Grandine didn't find any of my youthful stunts amusing, not in any way, shape, or form. Grandine worried over my immortal soul.
Grandine had her hands full. Not only did she make a deathbed promise to my mom, she also had three kids of her own to look after, and two of those kids were Natsu and Cana, and that right there was enough said.
Grandine talked to preachers, teachers and high school guidance counselors, little league softball, baseball and football coaches, neighborhood busybodies - anyone who she could to set up her network of Dragneel/Heartfilia Child Watch. Even with all this effort, it didn't work so well.
Cana Dragneel is my best friend and has been since birth. Cana is Grandine and Igneel's youngest child and she's far crazier than me, mainly because she isn't scared of anything.
Natsu's another story altogether. Natsu's a Bad Boy with capital Bs.
After getting caught on the side of the road puking our inebriated guts out by Gildarts and Hibiki, Cana and I smarted up. After that, when Cana and I were underage, out partying and were done over-imbibing, we called Natsu and he came to get us.
No matter what, no matter where, Natsu would show up in his vintage Mustang, hold open the passenger side door and grin as we stumbled our way out of someone's house and into his car.
Natsu knew the exact sounds a person would make before they got sick, and thus knew when to stop and haul a body out so they could do it on the side of the road and not in his car. Natsu also had lots of experience holding a girl's hair back when she threw up.
In our partying days, we tried calling Cana's other brother, Gajeel, a couple of times, but he would always give us a lecture and talked about how we were 'under arrest'. Gajeel's the oldest of the three Dragneel children and therefore felt the need to behave responsibly. He may have lectured, but he didn't snitch. Snitching was a shade too far.
Not surprisingly, Gajeel became a cop.
No one knew what Natsu was.
Gajeel Dragneel was captain of the football team, prom king; he was voted Best Athlete, Most Popular, one half of Best Couple, and Best Smile. He's six foot two, has thighs that could crack walnuts and just the right assets to fill both the seat and crotch of his jeans, a killer smile, thick, long black hair with just enough spike and crimson colored eyes. In high school Gajeel was good-natured, chivalrous and had a steady girl. Not much has changed (except there was no longer a girl).
Natsu Dragneel could hotwire any car going. He had both a Mustang and a motorcycle, started smoking when he was thirteen, was rumored to be able to get a girl pregnant just by looking at her and was also voted best smile. He's six foot one and gives the impression that faded jeans had been divinely created just for him.
Natsu had thick, pink hair with just enough spike and onyx colored eyes with a rim of long lashes. Natsu was good-natured as well, but in an entirely different way.
Without any effort at all (mostly by crooking his finger, casting a glance, or if a girl was playing hard to get, he'd pull out The Smile), Natsu nailed everything that was female, had long hair, big boobs, a fine ass and was breathing.
Every female, that is, but me, no matter how hard I tried. And let's just say I tried real hard.
I, too, have big boobs, one hell of an ass, long, blonde hair with just enough wave and was, as far as I could tell, not the walking dead.
I've been throwing myself at Natsu since I could remember.
I should have picked Gajeel. If I'd have picked Gajeel, I would now be married with children, probably very happy and getting it regularly. But I like them bad. I'm a rock chick. That's just the way it is.
Cana and I decided when we were eight that I was going to marry Natsu so I could be her 'real' sister. She was going to be my maid of honor, we were going to live across the street from each other in houses with white picket fences, and Natsu and I were going to name our first daughter after her (she was still holding out hope that I'd agree to that last one).
We even made a blood pact on it by sticking our fingers with safety pins and mashing them together. We spent the next twelve years attempting to make that fantasy a reality in every way our somewhat devious and definitely outrageous minds could dream up.
It was my bad luck, considering Natsu's moral code was a bit sketchy, that I fell into Natsu Dragneel's Ethical Rule Book at Rule Number Two (with Rule Number One being 'Thou shalt not nail your brother's girlfriend'). I was 'Thou shalt not nail your little sister's best friend'.
I also grew up like a member of the family, which made me practically his little sister by default. In my last effort to throw myself at him, when I was twenty and he was twenty three, he'd told me exactly that. It was pretty fucking embarrassing, but then again, so were all my other attempts, and that never stopped me.
Still, for some reason, that last one really hurt. Natsu wasn't particularly cruel or anything, he was just. . . final.
The Great Natsu Chase ended right then and there, at least for me. Cana still had very high hopes. Not to mention Grandine, who I think has always wanted me to end up with one of her sons, and it's been pretty clear that her pick of the litter was Natsu. Probably because she thinks we deserve each other.
I resigned myself to seeing Natsu at Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July, every birthday, most family get-togethers and BBQ'S, and over at Gajeel's when we're all watching the game and the like. Unfortunately, this means I saw Natsu a lot. Usually, there are always enough other people around to run interference.
If, on the odd occasion that he's at his parents' house for dinner (these days it's less odd - more like Grandine is getting increasingly desperate and becoming more obvious at playing matchmaker) and I'm also invited, I make my excuses (mostly lies) and leave as fast as my flip flops would carry me.
This usually pisses off Cana and Grandine, but they hadn't thrown themselves at the man for a decade and been rebuffed repeatedly, and then had to live the rest of their lives seeing that man at dinner and on holidays. It's mortifying, I promise you.
Not to mention Natsu went from Bad Boy to Badass in half a decade. By the end of that decade he was Badass Extraordinaire. You didn't mess with Natsu. I may have been a bit of a wild child, but I knew enough about playing with fire and getting burned, and Natsu Dragneel had gone from a bonfire to a towering fucking inferno seemingly overnight.
Don't get me wrong, Natsu Dragneel still has killer good looks, only slightly marred by a small scar on his right cheek. He also still has a killer physique that looks great in jeans, great in sweats, great in suits, great in anything.
He also still has a killer smile on the odd occasions he flashes it. And, finally, he also still likes women with lots of T&A and lots of hair (and I was still a woman just like that).
But he's also dangerous. I don't know how to explain this. He just is. Trust me.
These days, I still go to rock concerts. I still listen to music way too loud. I still wear my blonde hair long and wild with a slight wave that falls in a deep V down my back. I still have lots of tits and ass. Let's just say my body is my gift and my curse.
A body like mine isn't hard to manage- just feed it loads of crap to keep the curves, but keep in shape since you've gotta lug it around everywhere.
These days, though, my parties have real, home cooked hors d'oeuvres and bowls of pretzels, and nobody passes out in my bed or pukes in the back yard anymore.
These days I'm also the owner of a used bookstore. My grandmother, Anna, left it to me when she died. You'd think I wore tortoiseshell glasses and had my hair in a meek styled bun. This isn't the case about me or my bookstore.
You see, my grandmother was a hellion, had raised a hellion in my mom, Layla, and she and Dad carefully oversaw the raising of the third generation hellion that was me.
My inheritance came with a quaint little apartment on Strawberry Street. I live in the apartment on the second floor to the right, a gay couple live to the left of me, another gay couple below them, and another below me.
When I, a single, white female who looks like (and is) a rock 'n' roll groupie of the highest order, moved in, they all called each other and said, "There goes the neighborhood".
My bookstore is named Fairy Tail. There was no reason for this, except my grandmother had a nomadic nature when she was younger, and had met someone who had posed the question of "Do fairy's have tails?", and it seemed to stick with her.
In the day (that was my grandma's day), it was a hippie hang out and still is, in a way. It has a bunch of mismatched shelves stuffed full of all sorts of used books and tables piled high with vinyl records. It's a rabbit warren of organized disorganization, every once in a while punctuated by a fluffy, overstuffed chair.
Most people come in, find a book, read in a chair and leave without buying the book, maybe coming back the next day to pick it up again and read some more.
With the shop, I also inherited my grandma's two employees, which, shall we say, are just as eccentric as she was. Kinana's my romance (our biggest seller) expert. She's five foot seven and weighs in at about one-ten, painfully thin, painfully shy.
She keeps her nose in a book nearly every minute of every day, when she isn't buying them off people hawking their books for our shelves or giving mumbled recommendations. She's told me she's written over forty novels herself but never had the guts to try to get them published. She didn't even have the courage to let me read them, and I ask all the time.
There's also Loke. Loke's a classic playboy turned gentleman, all finely pressed suits and wild orange hair. He talks a good game, always spouting flirtatious garble to the customers, but those who have known him long enough know never to take it seriously, since we all know his heart is only big enough for his wife, Aries.
Grandma loved Fairy Tail. She looked at it kinda like her own personal guild. She was not an especially good business woman, but she was happy to make do and play hostess to her eclectic group of friends. Grandpa brought in an okay salary, and when he died, left her with a decent pension so she didn't have much to worry about.
Fairy Tail smells musty and old, and like grandma, I love every inch of it. When I wasn't at the station, with the Dragneel's or with Cana, I was at Fairy Tail with grandma, Loke, and then came Kinana. It was always one of my homes away from home, and those come with being a motherless child, believe me.
But the way I inherited it, it sure as hell wasn't going to keep me in my flip flops, jeans, and my fitted band T's, my signature outerwear. My signature underwear was strictly sexy-girlie lace and silk.
Grandma said that looking like a rock-inspired groupie on the outside was one thing, but every girl had to have a secret, and sexy underwear was the best secret a girl could have.
Now the front of the store is where I do my business. There are a bunch of fluffy couches and armchairs and a few tables. I invested in an espresso machine and coaxed my favorite barista, Vijeeter, from the chain coffee store down the road.
Vijeeter is a coffee God. He could make a skinny vanilla latte that could give you an orgasm if you just sniffed it. Vijeeter's a bit of a pain in the ass, a kind of semi-coffee recluse (he comes in, he makes coffee, he leaves), but his talent is undeniable.
My addition of coffee was a hit. When the espresso started flowing, the books started going, and now I had new furniture in my living room and a fast growing collection of kickass band T's and flip flops.
All of this flashes before my eyes. I learned quickly that lots of things flash before yours eyes when you're staring down the barrel of a gun and running for your life.
As I stared at my phone, trying not to have a panic attack, I tried to figure out who to call. I could, and probably should, call Dad, Igneel or Gajeel. Considering those choices and this situation, in the cop stakes Gajeel would be my best bet.
He'd go ballistic when he heard someone shot at me and would probably arrest Vijeeter on the spot, but he was least likely to kill him for putting me in danger.
Gajeel had control. That was why Gajeel was such a good athlete, why he was a good student, and why he's a good cop. Dad was my father, and Igneel considered himself like my father, so they'd just lose it and make a scene, which would freak Vijeeter out.
Vijeeter was a coffee artiste. So as an artiste, he had a delicate disposition. He freaks out easily. You could only give him two coffee orders at a time or he'd have a mini-mental-breakdown. That chain coffee shop hadn't been a good fit for him.
Fairy Tail was his Nirvana. He could create his drinks, and even when it got busy and the pressure got heavy, someone else - Kinana, Loke or me - took the burden and just let Vijeeter do his thing.
But right now, Vijeeter said no cops. So even though I really, really wanted to call Gajeel, I didn't.
I could call Natsu. Natsu isn't a cop. I had his number in my cell. Cana put it there.
Natsu would be a good bet. Natsu had gone into the military after high school. He had gone on to be Special Operations Force. He had done some serious shit while in the armed forces. Shit that took the good ole boy right out of his gorgeous onyx eyes and put in something else, something colder, more serious and far scarier.
Natsu had gotten out and got himself a private investigator's license and opened an office in downtown Magnolia. Natsu was supposed to be a PI, but no one really knows what Natsu does. I'm not even sure anyone has even been to his offices.
I could call Natsu and tell him someone shot at me. That would take care of things pretty quickly. I mean, I hadn't really had much of a relationship with Natsu for ten years, but it would be a kind of family responsibility, considering he thought of me as his little sister.
Natsu might track them down (whoever they were) and shoot them, though. Torture them first and then shoot them. Natsu had skills I could not comprehend. At least that's what I heard Igneel and Dad muttering about, more than once.
It was like when I was sixteen and Dan Straight was telling everyone he'd gotten to third base with me (when he'd barely managed to slide into second), and Natsu had found Dan and broken his nose.
This would be serious.
Maybe Natsu wasn't a good idea.
This left me with Cana.
Cana Dragneel is always up for adventure.
Cana Dragneel could keep her mouth shut.
And Cana was not a cop.