#it's gonna take someone a hell of a lot more cunning to get one over on athena fucking grant
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So...after a VERY long week, I want to spill my salt somehow by ranking the TWST Books. Some things first...
I'll be using the MAL scale, so 1 means outright garbage, 5 means it's okay and 10 means awesome. I'm not gonna include Diasomnia because of spoilers. (I will say rn that it gets a 4/10).
I'm not considering issues with the game as a whole like Yuu being an inactive protagonist, just at the arcs themselves.
Keep in mind, this is all my personal opinion. If you disagree with any of my takes, great. I don't care. You're entitled to your opinion, and I'm entitled to mine.
Though, I might save that for another post. Let's get to it!
The Prologue: 5/10
Reason: There are some good bits here like the ominous opening with us waking up in the coffin, Yuu being proactive with the mine bit, and a good introduction to the main friend group. There are downsides as well. Parts of it could've been streamlined better. For example, I don't think including both the statue being burnt and the candelier falling is necessary. One of those should've been scrapped to make the pacing snappier. Hell, that's exactly what happens in the manga. Yuu should've had much more of a negative reaction to being isekaied. While I know they think it's a dream, but they're like, "I've been transported to another world where everyone I know and love don't exist? Cool." And to add insult to injury, they have a good sleep after the first night. Like, what? What kind of person would have that reaction? It's an okay start, but it could've been a lot better.
Heartslabyul: 6/10
Reason: The writing in this arc is pretty good. The stakes are reasonably high, you get introduced to great characters, Riddle is a great antagonist for this arc, Ace gets his moment in the sun and it does a good job at mixing in the movie/book while doing its own thing.
There are still some issues. Yuu isn't really proactive, and it's more Ace who drives the plot here. The pacing seems really off, since I don't think the whole "baking the tart" thing was necessary for reasons I'll mention in a bit. There are also plot holes like if Ace's older brother attended Night Raven and told him about sleeping spots, why the fuck is he so shocked about everything, including basic information like the dorm names? Shouldn't he know this shit by now? And why didn't he just straight up challenge Riddle to the position of dorm leader without putting up with the tart BS? It seems more in character for him.
Over all, an overall decent arc, but nothing to write home about.
Savanaclaw: 2.5/10
Reason: And then, things immediately tank. xD If you ask someone in the western TWST fandom what their least favourite arc is, they'll most likely name this one. There's a reason for that. It's total shit.
The Lion King elements feel shoehorned.
The mystery is extremely obvious. Despite Ruggie using his powers right in front of Yuu, no one expects a damn a thing.
Instead of being being cunning foes, Leona and Ruggie are turned to idiots, who telegraph their plans and boast about how evil they are like telenovela villains. This pisses me off, since in the rest of the game while Leona is very lazy, he's also cunning, smart and charismatic. He's like a chessmaster who knows what moves to make. I would've loved to see that Leona in this arc.
Right before Leona overblots, he uses his powers on Ruggie out of anger and almost turns him to dust. Despite this, they go back to normal like nothing happened. This pisses me off so much. First off all, why the hell did Leona do this to Ruggie in the first place? He did nothing wrong. If anything he should do this to Jack, who foiled his plans. Second, why the fuck isn't there any fallout after that? Ruggie was almost murdered! You would think that he would be pissed off at him for what he did, and Leona would have to make it up to him. I know if that were to happen to me I would be pissed off at the very least.
Leona doesn't have a lot of involvement with the story, despite being the main antagonist for that chapter.
Epel is on the magishift team, but his thoughts on this situation and the whole deal with Leona is never addressed.
Why the fuck didn't Ruggie overblot? The game gives the impression to me. He's the one who constantly uses his powers and has everything to lose, not Leona. Hell, making it so Ruggie overblot instead would be killing two birds with one stone, since it would fix that plot hole while also fixing the issue of Leona having no consequences for his actions and not feeling any regret.
Leona's motivation is hardly explored in this arc.
Like always, Yuu doesn't do a damn thing despite them being the protagonist.
Why is Leona's first plan the stampede? Wouldn't Malleus be able to teleport away?
Over all, a shit arc and wasted potential.
Octanivelle: 8/10
Reason: This is by far the most competently written out of all the TWST arcs. Azul is a cunning foe, Yuu is an actual proactive protagonist for once, and the plot is pretty solid. The only nitpicks I have with it is that the Savanaclaw characters should've been more involved in the plot, Azul being able to memorize all that info seemed like bullshit and there is a huge continuity error with the photo that makes Azul come off like a dumbass. (The game takes place in 2020, meaning that smartphones were popular at the time Azul's fat photo was taken. The fact that the photo could be floating around online never ONCE considered. I honestly chalk this up with Yana being an out of touch Gen Xer.) Other than that, solid writing and a great arc.
Scarabia: 7/10
Reason: This one is pretty solid too. Yuu is a proactive protagonist for once, most likely because they only could rely on Grim for half of it. xD The Octanivelle Trio are great. It does a great job at mixing in the Aladdin movies while doing its own thing. There are some issues holding it back like Kalim forgiving Jamil way too damn easily, Jamil being the colpurit being a bit to obvious (but it's more forgivable here since the investigation isn't the point of the arc like with Savanaclaw), the Octanivelle Trio stealing Jamil's thunder too much at times and the idea of them digging out of Scarabia makes no sense. (Seriously, even if that was possible, their room is on top of a tower, wouldn't they just fall and plumpt to their deaths?) Over all, pretty good arc.
Pomefiore: 6/10
Reason: Things go downhill from here. The first half before the training starts is pretty solid. But afterwards issues begin to arise...
The pacing feels extremely off. Sometimes it feels padded out while others it feels extremely rushed, especially after the first day until the day of the festival. I wish that certain parts were scrapped so the story could focus on more important things.
It didn't explore the aftermath of Jamil and Kalim's relationship nearly enough.
Epel does a complete 180 on his views on gender norms in one single afternoon. Sorry, but that's not how that works in real life. People are stubborn, and some never budge. If someone does change their mind about something, it would take months if not longer. He's been living with those stereotypes all his life, so he's even less likely to budge quickly. I think it'd make more sense for him to go "Oh, I see what you're saying, but…" then immediately accept it.
Others have mentioned this before, this arc has a problem of setting up certain characters to get their moment in the sun, but then give it to someone else. The biggest example is the arc setting up that Epel will have a climatic moment where he confronts Vil, but it's Deuce who does instead, despite the little set up. If she wanted Deuce to have the climatic moment, then there should've been more foreshadowing for it.
Vil and Neige's backstory seems like something Yana pulled straight out of her ass, because it makes zero sense. How the fuck is Neige able to live with a group of minors who have the mental capacity of kindergartners without being taken by CPS? Why the fuck didn't Vil know that Neige was poor already? He works with him constantly! (Honestly, I'm 99% sure she did pull it out of her ass. There was a huge incident before Ignihyde debuted in the JP fandom where the JP fans sent her and Rook VA death threats for the ending of Pomefiore. It seems like something she came up with on the spot to plaicate that complaint and make Neige look better, but it failed anyway.)
Vil's backstory made it come off as he had almost no problems.
Why aren't Vil and Neige stepbrothers? It would make their connection much simpler and align Vil up more with the Evil Queen.
Neige and Vil had no direct interaction before the climax.
NRC losing the competition is bullshit. NRC was the better performers while Neige's routine sucked.
The usual issue of Yuu not doing anything to advance the plot is also there.
Where the the fuck is Jack in all this? He and Vil are FRIENDS, so you would think that he would be concerned about Vil and want to stop him from overblotting.
The stuff before is solid, but the stuff after the training camp starts sucks. So it evens out to slightly above average.
Ignihyde: 3/10
Reason: Going against popular opinion, but...I think this one REALLY sucks and is almost on par with Savanaclaw. Because...
Everyone is a total dumbass
There's loads of worldbuilding that comes straight the fuck out of nowhere.
The ending of Jamil and Kalim's character arc infuriates me. Instead of setting Jamil's family free, they go back to the status quo and Jamil is supposed to be happy with it!? Bullshit! (Kalim should've set the Vipers free. Period. No ifs, ands or buts about it.)
Yuu and Idia hardly interact.
Yuu loses their home, and has no reaction to it.
The ending makes Vil look like a total dumbass for never considering just making an antidote to turn himself back to normal like how the Evil Queen would've done in the movie if she wasn't killed off and makes Malleus a Gary-Sue Deus ex Machina.
Leona's reading on Jamil is so inaccurate that it makes me genuinely wonder if Yana even understands her own characters.
Ortho has no personality outside of being a stereotypical child character and is more of a prop for Idia's character.
While I don't usually comment about the gaming mechanics, but the mini games in this one are frustrating as hell. I heard of people rage quiting with this arc, because they are that unfunctional.
Over all, an overrated arc and is total shit in my opinion.
Over all score so far (in my opinion): 62%, or just above average
Thoughts: The game has a very strong premise and a mostly solid cast, but there are a lot of things that hold it back from being truly amazing. Certain arcs are better than others. Over all, it's just okay. For a mobile game, that's rather impressive.
Twst is best as a jumping point for transformative work. The writing is decent, especially for a phone game, but if you take the premise, characters, setting and just run away with it, you could write something so much more detailed and fleshed out yourself.
I think that's why I enjoy writing fics in this fandom so much. It's a fun sandbox to play in. I can use the game's elements to create something far better, fixing any writing issues in the process like the shitty worldbuilding and Yuu being passive protagonist.
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sigh.
man. i hope u folx never need to deal with actual honest to god racism in ur lives, cause i think it might actually kill u on the spot.
genuinely tho. last thing i’m saying about this whole saga and then i’m saving us all by deleting anything u come to my ask box with cause omg i feel like i might actually be all that keeps u productive by stopping engaging with u. or i could hire a robot to fight with u i guess. i bet it’d be the same response.
anyway; i’ve stated a few times that my issue with the ppd line isn’t solely chim (scroll dooooown) but y’all are circling it around to ‘he’s asian and they’re saying bad things so they are a racist’ (genuinely, hope u don’t meet a racist, it’s disgusting and it’s certainly not gentle ‘this person did this wrong’ when it’s racism) but i still tagged it ‘anit-chim’ so that people who didn’t want to read something where chim is held to his canon actions (remember, this is 5.02, aggression is never mentioned, if anything, chimney is passive af in this cause he’s talking not swinging) and a psa was made about ‘not including my work’, which i accepted because freedom of speech (which apparently is also racist if i’ve read that right?) which means the person can exclude whatever they want from this public event meant to focus on the siblings and not on their significant others but i digress (i might be being racist again because i’m not including a coc and a potential shipper coc or just a woman i apparently self insert? still confused on that matter).
i was then told that only doug kendall can possibly be the bad person and how dare white savior be used (despite this literally being about two siblings who are white and one of the prompts is literally how the save each other but who am i to ask for some kind of consistency in this matter!) and that i really shouldn’t use chimney and his canon actions (again, 5.02, not like what... 5.05 was it? fuck idk they’ve blended together cause man was 5a a cluster bomb of wtf).
so i’m not being included in a public event because my work is (apparently) racist (possibly even those things i wrote before i wrote that one they didn’t like which they had no problem reblogging, maybe i hid my racism while writing about that cute little baby or that time the guy i apparently was literally the non-white savior? idk confusion. not consistent at all) and they don’t want to ‘promote’ it? idk i don’t come here to promote much, this is the most i’ve ever used my blog, i honestly forget i have it a lot. tumblr is kinda rabid y’know.
now i will say, whatev. don’t reblog, block me, ignore me, it’s all whatever at the end of the day. however when you remove someone’s comments to you and only allow people to see what you are saying, it creates a kind of vibe. you know. like a conservative-right republican vibe where if you hide what the other side is saying... they’re not saying it?
in closing (and damn idk if i even said everything i came to say, cause this disaster fire is still confusing) call me racist all you want; i know i’m not, i know the people who know me know i’m not (although thanks for reading my fic and totally agreeing with your friend who you’re 100% not biased for or anything, that single hit meant the world to me) and most of the people who read my fic and see the manner in which the character is portrayed (cough-canonly-cough) (again, still 5.02 so it has nothing to do with that other canon thing that i’m not even touching at this point)(might do it tomorrow, i haven’t yet decided, my spite it being drained by the soft gentle love of a kitty) my spite is not so that anyone will read my work. or that you’ll need to see it in your blogs.
my spite thrives in knowing, i can write my silly little fic, i can be a total spoon and make it *the worst* characterisation in the history of tumblr or ao3 (and i think i’d deserve an award for that), and i can come along in here, and post it and tag it *correctly* so that no one is surprised when they enter it, so that no one is like ‘omg i didn’t see this coming this author is so rude not tagging their shit’ and it’s gonna sit there. in your event. with the tag you hate so vehemently that you started a very stupid little squabble about it.
and i just got my daily writing goal. neat.
#fandom discourse#anons up in my hoohaa#legit idk if these people are watching the same show as me#can i get their cut?#ps yes i do support not-evil jonah#cause god how boring is it to have another lame ass white guy being the villain#like shit#they do know other people aspire to villain hood right#it don't always gotta be the dumbass white guy having some evil master plan#it's gonna take someone a hell of a lot more cunning to get one over on athena fucking grant
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not gonna miss this chance
Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader
Genre: fluff
Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline
Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.
Words: 4.1k
Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.
You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.
Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.
But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.
Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.
“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.
“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.
You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.
“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.
Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.
“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.
You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.
"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.
"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.
"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.
"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:
"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"
"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.
Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.
"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.
The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"
"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.
"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."
"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”
And turn it to gold, he did.
The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.
Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.
But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least. However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.
"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?
"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"
You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.
“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”
“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”
“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.
“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.
“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.
Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.
To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.
"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.
"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.
You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.
"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"
His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.
"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.
"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.
"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.
"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.
"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.
"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.
In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy. He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.
"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.
"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.
"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.
Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.
"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.
You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.
You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.
Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.
"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.
"A bit."
"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.
You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.
So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.
duet partner, han seo jun
so...
i've been thinking
you
sounds dangerous but ok
duet partner, han seo jun
don't get sassy with me, miss
you
what have you been thinking about?
duet partner, han seo jun
that i don't want to miss my chance
there's this girl i like
i thought of asking her out
do you think she would say yes?
you
oh. well... why wouldn't she?
i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable
duet partner, han seo jun
and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy
don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?
you
I think you should let her decide that
duet partner, han seo jun
okay
are you free on friday?
you
um, sure?
duet partner, han seo jun
cool, then go on a date with me?
#han seo jun x reader#seojun x reader#han seojun#han seo joon#true beauty#stories#i just wanted to give him a happy end after ep16#that's what this is about
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hurt her to save her - d.m
pairing: draco x fem!reader
word count: 7k
warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture
plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort
a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3
Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.
Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.
By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.
“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.
Draco felt so small under their gaze.
“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.
“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.
Draco didn’t move.
Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.
“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.
“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.
“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”
“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.
Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”
“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.
“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”
“I know.”
Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.
“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”
Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.
“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.
However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.
He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table – which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.
Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.
Draco thought you looked so beautiful.
He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.
Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.
You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.
“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.
You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.
It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.
Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.
Until that night.
It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.
You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.
You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.
You were having a great time.
“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.
“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.
“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.
“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”
You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.
“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.
The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.
So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.
You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.
You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.
Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.
He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.
“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.
“None of your business.”
“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.
“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.
“You know about that?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.
However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.
“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”
Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.
“What are you even doing there?”
“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.
“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”
Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.
You smiled proudly at his question.
“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”
Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.
“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”
“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”
“Well, then- “
“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”
“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”
You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”
Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.
Things slowly started to shift after that night.
The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.
Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.
Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”
And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.
You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.
Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.
Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.
You didn’t want to see him after that.
But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.
Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.
“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”
Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.
A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.
Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.
You quietly sat next to him with a huff.
“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.
After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.
Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.
“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.
Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.
“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.
And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you���ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.
But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.
“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”
Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.
Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.
You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.
On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.
He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.
You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.
A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.
“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.
“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.
He ignored you.
You felt like throwing something at his head.
You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.
“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.
You frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.
You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.
No words came out of your mouth after that.
You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.
His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”
And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.
That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.
With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.
Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.
You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.
You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.
“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.
“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.
He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”
Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.
“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”
Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.
“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”
The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.
“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.
“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”
“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”
He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.
“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”
“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.
He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”
Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.
Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.
And there it was.
The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.
Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.
“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “
“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”
“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.
You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.
“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.
“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.
Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.
You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.
“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”
You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.
“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”
All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.
By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.
“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.
“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.
You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.
“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfic#draco malfoy one shot#draco malfoy imagines#harry potter#harry potter imagine#draco malfoy angst#draco malfoy x reader#ron weasley#ron weasley imagine#hhtsh
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Little Moments | Billy Russo
Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff]
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?
Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else.
William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.
Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.
"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today.
Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.
You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't.
"How much work do you have left?"
Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"
"Finish the call. Then go home."
"Yes, sir."
Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you?
The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.
"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job.
_____________________
"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized."
You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.
"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?"
"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."
Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?"
You cut him a glare and he chuckles.
"You don't like them?"
"I'm not fond."
"Why?"
"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."
Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."
You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."
"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."
"So you won't sign the contract with them?"
"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."
You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you?
"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."
"Oh. Well it's your business so-"
Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that."
You nod.
"Couldn't hear you."
"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."
He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"
You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."
"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.
A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit.
_____________
A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work.
"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."
There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.
You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site.
"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number.
No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk.
Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck!
The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible.
The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight.
"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are."
You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap.
Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief.
His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?"
"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work."
"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now."
You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."
Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you later."
"I didn't know what to do."
"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."
You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?"
"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry."
"Okay."
_____________________
You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part.
He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs.
You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck.
There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?
Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head.
"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."
"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.
"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"
"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming.
He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?"
"Yeah?"
"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."
"O-oh."
"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."
You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men."
"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."
"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-"
"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."
You nod.
"I'll be back later."
____________________
Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make.
In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal.
You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared.
"Cozy?"
You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?"
"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?"
"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too."
He hums. "Go through all my shit?"
"You know it."
"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."
You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."
Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?"
"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"
"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."
"Right, yeah."
"Do I scare you?"
You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were."
"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?"
"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee.
"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."
"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself."
Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."
"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't."
"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"
"I don't know, but I think you do."
Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?"
"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant."
"Because I love you."
"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment.
"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you."
"I don't-...I'm just-"
His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours.
"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard."
"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?"
You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head.
"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door.
"Are you leaving?"
"No."
"Good."
He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."
"I would if you'd just go already."
"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold.
"Stop! Stop! I yield!"
Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office."
"I hate tickling."
"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick."
You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give."
"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it."
You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?"
"Maybe."
"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more."
"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?"
"Get out!"
He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it.
The end
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Header image by delicate-venus
Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A
#the punisher#billy russo#ben barnes#ben barnes characters#the punisher series#the punisher netflix#punisher fic#billy russo x reader#billy russo fic
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An Extensive Analysis of Eris
The recent excerpt from ACOSF has got this fandom spinning on it’s head because it includes a feral-smiling Eris waltzing with Nesta. As a result, people have now delved deeper into his character and whether or not he deserves a redemption arc (or an arc of any kind).
So naturally, he has been compared to Rhys, because Rhys also appeared to us in the beginning as a cruel, cunning person, who was eventually revealed to have a bigger heart, and a valid excuse (at least amongst the IC) for his behavior.
I made this post to mainly catalogue all that Eris has done, analyze his actions, see if he indeed can be compared to Rhys, and to determine whether or not he should have a redemption arc.
What We Know So Far
Our first mention of Eris is in ACOMAF, when Rhysand is explaining to Feyre what happened to Mor. I could put the quotes here, but just to save some time I’m gonna make a long story short.
Mor’s father, Keir, declared that she was to be sold in marriage to Eris. Eris is known for being cruel, and Mor begged Rhys to stop it. Rhys brought her to the Illyrian camp for a few days, and she decided to sleep with Cassian in order to ruin her “pure” image. Because she slept with Cassian, Eris refused to marry her. Said, “she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow.” Her family, although it’s not said explicitly, basically beat her, and then dumped her body on the Autumn court border with a note nailed to her body that said she was Eris’s problem now. Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods.
Now, we’re going to look at what he exactly said during this event, given to us from Mor’s POV in ACOFAS:
“Don’t touch her.” Those steps stopped. It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.
“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.”
Cold, unfeeling words. “But—but they nailed a—”
“No one touches her.”
A pale, beautiful face appeared above her, blocking out the jewel-like leaves above. Unmoved. Impassive. “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”
He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”
Eris took a step away. Someone behind him blurted, “We can’t just leave her to—”
“We can, and we will,” Eris said simply, his pace unfaltering as he strode away.
“She chose to sully herself; her family chose to deal with her like garbage. I have already told them my decision in this matter.” A long pause, crueler than the rest. “And I am not in the habit of fucking Illyrian leftovers.”
Now that we have Mor’s side of the story, we’re going to look at what Eris has said about that fateful day during a discussion with the IC in ACOWAR:
Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”
“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”
. . . .
A frown at Mor as he drained his wine and set down the goblet. “I’m surprised you still can’t control yourself around him. You had every emotion written right on that pretty face of yours.”
“Watch it,” Azriel warned.
Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”
“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.
A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”
A main takeaway from this is that there seems to be much more to story of what happened between Eris and Mor.
Does that mean him leaving her in the woods is excusable? No. Absolutely not. He didn’t try to take the nail out of her (which would’ve been the bare minimum), he didn’t alert Rhys that she was there, he didn’t do anything to help her. He started to make the situation even more traumatic by saying vile things to her. Whatever reason he gives for not helping her will be just that: a reason. But not an excuse. Those are two very different things.
Eris say’s that leaving her there is one of the few things he regrets. There’s something in that. I’m not saying under any circumstance that he should be forgiven because he feels guilty, thats stupid as hell, but it is showing that he’s not some apathetic, other-worldy evil person. There’s some semblance of a conscious in him.
He also say’s that one day he’ll tell them why he did it and what it cost him. By what it cost him, I’m guessing he’s talking about the cost of ending his betrothal to Mor, because I can’t think of what he lost by leaving her there.
I don’t think there’s been any mention of someone getting revenge on Eris because A.) Rhys told Feyre that, “Azriel found her a day later. It was all I could do to keep him from going to either court and slaughtering them all.” and B) her family was obviously going to do nothing cause they’re the ones who hurt her.
I’m not going to try and theorize what cost Eris had to pay. It obviously is something (or someone) important to him.
But to me, one of the biggest things we got from this discussion is that it seems Eris knows Mor is gay. That secret smile of his that had Mor shrinking, the way he says he knows why she slept with Cassian, and that he gave Mor her freedom by ending the betrothal without giving a reason . . . he knows.
He knew she was gay, so he ended their engagement, no questions asked. And then Mor was dumped in his woods, and he did nothing to help.
Morally grey, indeed.
(P.S. To the person that posted something along the lines of, “I can’t wait to see Mor’s face when she see’s Eris dancing with Nesta,” . . . get help)
Another excerpt I wanna look at also happens during the recent discussion we’ve just seen, but it has to do with Feyre and Lucien.
“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”
Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”
That little hesitation before he says ‘brothers’. . . sus. That’s all imma say. (maybe there’s more than one illegitimate son in that family . . .)
“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?”
Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”
Silence.
“Indulge me,” was all I said.
Eris stared me down. I stared right back.
“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there— when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”
Where two of Eris’s brothers had been killed. By Lucien and Tamlin.
Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket. “Not all of us were so lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”
We see another semblance of conscious here when Eris refuses to take part in the slaughtering of Jesminda. To even be in the same room as it. He then made sure that Lucien wasn’t going to die by making sure Tamlin was at his border.
I’m not putting these quotes here to say, “Look, he cares about stuff , so let’s excuse everything he’s done.” No. There is no excusing any of his actions. Just like we can’t excuse Rhysand’s behavior in the first two books, or Cassian’s, or Nesta’s, or even Feyre’s, etc. But what we can do is see the reasons for their actions, and try and understand why they acted the way they did. They have their reasons, and Eris has his. (P.S. I’m not trying to compare what they’ve done, I’m just noting that they all had reasons to do what they’ve done, and they all deserve to be heard out.)
Comparison To Rhys
As I said earlier, Eris has drawn a lot of comparisons to Rhys. I agree with most of them.
This fandom has catalogued all of Rhys’s questionable actions like . . .
*TRIGGER WARNING: words like sexually assaulted*
Rhys sexually assaulting Feyre three times in the first book by drugging her, and then compelling her to give him lap dances in front of the folks Under The Mountain. He then displayed Feyre again in a sexual manner in the second book in front of The Court of Nightmares as, and I quote, “The High Lords Whore.”
In both situations he could’ve done things so much differently. In the first book, he could’ve just, oh I don’t know, kept her in her cell? Or maybe brought her upstairs as a normal person?
And in the second one she literally could have been ANYTHING else. Everyone thinks she’s his prisoner, so why didn’t they go with that? Why couldn’t he have just dressed her in some raggedy-ass clothing, messed up her hair, and then tell her to act super stoic or frightened? Really Rhys, she just had to be your whore? (I know it was consensual but that doesn’t make her persona okay. He could’ve picked literally anything else)
Did he have his reasons for doing this? Yes. Does his reasons excuse what he did? No. You don’t have to make everyone else around you act a part just because you do.
So while we may not excuse Rhys’s actions, we can understand his reasons even if we don’t agree with them. Same with Eris. We know Eris has his reasons, and I doubt we’ll all agree with them, but he still has them.
Let’s also not forget that Rhysand made a deal with Eris and Keir that he would support Eris’s claim to the Autumn Court throne when Eris decides to kill his father for it. He also allowed Keir and his court to come into Velaris, and even though they’ll be turned away by every vendor, he still allowed them in. While he had his reasons for doing this (the Darkling army for ACOWAR) he still did it. It still hurt Mor.
Redemption Arc
My biggest hesitation in thinking Eris will get a redemption arc is wondering where it would fit in the books for him to have one. We don’t know how if his waltz with Nesta is just a one-time thing or if it’s a result of a friendship between the two. The second book is supposed to be centered around Elain, Azriel, and Lucien, so that could also be a spot where he get’s an arc, maybe through a relationship with Lucian or Azriel.
Either way, I’m not gonna bring down the hammer and say that he shouldn’t get a redemption arc. Tbh, the term ‘redemption arc’ kinda annoys me because it shouldn’t be about redeeming what was done in the past, but more about learning from past mistakes and taking the initiative to grow into a better person. That’s what I want for Eris. He’s not going to magically be revealed to be this super sweet fun-loving guy like Rhys. I don’t want him to be revealed like that either.
I just want to see more of his character, see why he is the way he is, and, like i’ve said a million times in this post, know his reasons for acting the way he does.
One last thing before I go. I’m not interested in seeing any relationship blossom between Eris and the IC, or Nesta, and I think it’s unlikely anyways. There’s a possibility for them to have an understanding, sure, but no friendship. I know there are some people who automatically adore Eris because they hate Mor and that’s just stupid. Mor isn’t my fav either, but I won’t cheer Eris on just because he hurt her.
That’s all I’ve got. If you’ve made it this far, I appreciate you. Really.
#ACOSF#a court of silver flames#eris#eris vanserra#erisvanserra#lucien#lucien vanserra#lucienvanserra#nesta#nesta archeron#cassian#nessian#rhysand#feysand#feyre#sjm#sarah j maas#acotar#acowar#acomaf#a court of thorns and roses#a court of frost and starlight#a court of wings and ruin#a court of mist and fury#acofas#feyre archeron
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childe scenario – being taken care of
he’s used to taking care of his own wounds, but having your hands on him instead is a welcome change.
gender neutral reader. mentions of blood (injuries). nsfw implications. 1889 words.
with his unmatched agility, keen attention to detail, and combat technique prowess, childe considered himself to be a warrior.
you, on the other hand, thought of him as a fool playing hero – reckless, pretty much.
sure, seeing him slash with his hydro dangers was hot. witnessing his deft rotation to a bow, firing arrows at a speed that your eyes could hardly match, was equally, if not more drool-worthy,
but childe, in his acute taste for strong opponents, is incredibly dumb when it comes to taking care of himself.
this is when you come in. when he’s taken combat a bit too seriously with marks on his face, clothes torn to shreds, and breath more uneven than the fatui agenda, you’re there to snap him back to the senses he has left.
not like he has that many, you murmur inwardly, dragging him back to his room by the arm. he’s reassuring you that he’s fine, that he’s endured worse in terms of injuries, and he’s had practice in bandaging himself up –
you’ll have none of it. watching childe throw himself into combat is like watching a lit match being chucked into a bucket of gasoline.
hazardous. potentially lethal. preferably avoidable.
“sit,” you command, plopping him on the chair behind his desk while rummaging through the drawers with your other hand. his body melts into the chair and he sighs, contentedly, before suddenly remembering that he’s supposed to be putting up a fight.
“i can handle this myself, you know – ” he reaches towards your hand with his own, grasping for the gauze bundle you found, only to have it swatted away.
“the last time you bandaged yourself, you were bleeding through your shirt and onto the chair. no way in hell am i trusting you with this.”
“we’re not in hell, we’re in my office. you’ve got more important things to do, yeah?”
you scowl, already moving towards him to unbutton his shredded coat. despite his words, he lets you, and you toss it across the desk.
his chest would be smooth if not for the ridges of muscle that trail down his stomach. you’ve seen him like this too many times to be fazed, however that doesn’t stop you from appreciating the intimacy of the moment while it lasts. “i’m paid to look after you. so, no, nothing better to do.”
after inspecting the lacerations across his chest and the disturbed flesh on his arms, you go fetch a stool to sit at the same height as him. standing up isn’t practical when he would be beneath you, and kneeling on the ground is definitely not an option.
once you’re back and situated, you take care in measuring appropriate amounts of herbal medication for his wounds (courtesy of grinding qingxin and violetgrass together).
he watches you work, head propped on his fist while you have his other arm flat on the armrest, and you begin to feel your face burn. does he have to stare at you like that? admittedly, you suppose there’s nothing better to look at while he’s waiting, so you just grumble quietly to yourself.
you’ve measured out the quantities, so you get to work applying the paste to his arms fist. you dare not apply it with your bare hands since it’s unsanitary medical practice, and instead with the back of a chilled spoon.
at least you have an excuse to look at his arms. muscular, with wrists thicker than your own, and fingers definitely longer than yours. of course the youngest harbinger also has a great bod – it’s not like he already has a pretty face and a voice that could melt even the tsaritsa’s frigid heart.
you convince yourself that you should get paid more for this, to deal with his careless attitude and impressive visuals.
“tell me if it gets to tight,” you warn, unwrapping a strip of gauze from the bundle before he lifts up his arm, and you proceed to secure the paste under the fabric.
childe winces slightly, although he’s quick to conceal his discomfort. you know that even he bleeds, and doesn’t have to keep his tough-guy act in the privacy of his own office.
your hands repeatedly touch his skin to tighten the gauze, before proceeding to roll on each new strip. his skin is unbearably warm – although it’s natural with the blood rush – and he inhales sharply as you wrap the final strip over his arm.
“sorry,” you mumble, before pushing the armrest so that childe’s body is fully facing yours. “you might have to stand up for this one, since your chest is, uh, bleeding a lot.”
it’s his turn to scoff, but he nonetheless complies with an oh well smile. you help him steady himself, and he grins in thanks.
“this one shouldn’t hurt as much,” you affirm after inspecting his chest for the second time. the gash is shallower than the one on his arm, although it runs from one side of his chest towards the opposite collar bone.
you pause for a second too long, and childe takes the opportunity to interject. you can hear the grin in his voice when he does. “you gonna check me out even longer, doc?” he inquires, and you’re not dense enough to miss the implications of his words, “it’s cute that you think i don’t notice – ”
“this is purely professional, and you know that.” you interrupt him vehemently, pressing your lips together. “i can’t treat you properly if i don’t know what i’m dealing with. you just happened to get injured here,” you jab at his chest, before turning towards the paste.
“i guess you’re right. but you like what you see, right? that’s good news for me.”
“you’re built. if someone as active as you weren’t, then i’d be surprised.”
“so you admit it!” childe exclaims, as if he’s won something out of you. you remain steadfast in your reasoning, not willing to give him any more ground.
“i’m just stating what i see. you’re built.” not a second longer your hand is on his chest, somewhat forcefully in your embarrassment, and you apply the paste. you hate that he’s taller than you; it feels daunting to be in a position literally beneath him in an immature discussion like this.
“aha,” he nods his head, although he’s not convinced in the slightest. he might be slightly tired from his last battle, but doesn’t let it deter him from making fun of his subordinate. "you should be careful where you touch in a closed office like this.”
he takes a hold of your hand with the gauze, and snakes his arm behind the small of your back. you stiffen immediately, taken off-guard by his boldness, and fight the urge to screech at his bare skin against you and his face so close to your own.
“this isn’t appropriate – ” you gag, hands flying to his shoulders, not quite pushing away. and out of no-where –
you whine despite yourself, flustered at his change in behavior. “childe, don’t make this a bigger deal. you didn’t even want me to take care of you – ”
“you’re right, i didn’t,” he agrees, and his voice stops you from continuing. he winks at you from behind his bangs, and you gulp. “but i can indulge someone who cares about me, yeah?”
is this a trick question? you can’t tell where he’s coming from, since your relationship has always been professional up to this point, and you don't think you’ve made it obvious that you found him physically attractive before. he’s got to be messing with you, you’re sure of it, and stutter out a response.
“a-again, i’m paid to take care of you,” (although, you can see on his face that he’s not buying it, and the bastard intertwines his fingers with yours,) “there are lots of other people you could do this with if you're feeling . . . peckish.”
“peckish, huh?” he murmurs lowly, and removes his arm from your back. but he still holds tight onto your fingers, gauze having been discarded onto the table. you step back tentatively, firm in your assertions.
“i don’t think you’d put up with me if you didn’t care,” he reasons aloud. even though this is the first time you’ve physically dragged him into his office to tend to his wounds, you had remarked in the past that he was being too careless with himself. you press your lips together, thinking, before slowly squeezing his fingers back.
“i do care about you,” you begin, and he blinks curiously, intently studying your face. “but i also can’t lose my job. superior-subordinate interactions like this aren’t exactly good either. you do realize that, right?”
he’s playing you like a fiddle, you’re certain of it, and are trying to play your cards as carefully as possible. he’s never shown interest in you in quite this way before. always teasing, insufferably frustrating in his ways, but never invested in you.
you’re not even sure how to tell if he’s being sincere. your peers have always told you that childe is difficult to read, that, especially since he’s practically your boss, you should consider his words as lip service. sure, he’s physically attractive, and you’ve already made peace with yourself in thinking so.
you never imagined to be in a scenario like this with him, and after analyzing your face for mere seconds, it seems as if childe is following your thought process.
he lets go of your fingers, and you flex them cautiously. you’re both quiet as you gradually go back to bandaging him up, and you notice that, despite your tense discussion, his body seems oddly relaxed against your light touch.
you don’t touch him any more than you need to, almost afraid of being burned by any other remarks he can come up with. you probably won’t offer to do this again for him due to the pure awkwardness of the situation; if he pulled this stunt to dissuade you from approaching him in the future, it was a very cunning and manipulative way to do so –
suddenly, childe scowls. you pause, looking up at him, and are surprised once he pats your head. your mouth opens, trying to produce sounds, and you feel like a fish –
“don’t think too much,” he reassures you, voice reassuring. “i’ll wait with whatever you decide, doc.”
if anything, his words leave you even more conflicted, and you’re dumbfound enough that you don’t finish securing the gauze. childe grins in your stupor and secures the bandage himself, leaving you to think of what words to say next.
he heads to his closet by the door, retrieving a new coat before sliding it over his head and chest. you reflexively run over to go help him, although stop half way. it’s difficult for you to think of something witty to respond with like usual, although you suppose that simplicity could settle for now.
“thanks,” you settle for as he opens the door, “i might get back to you on this.”
mind? a mess. body? feels like jelly. childe? undecided for now.
#genshin impact#childe x reader#childe headcanons#childe scenarios#tartaglia x reader#childe imagines#genshin x reader
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Fire on Fire - Chapter Three
Chapter two // Chapter four
“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.
Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.
Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.
They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.
“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.
“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.
“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”
Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.
She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.
“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.
When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.
She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”
Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.
“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.
“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.
“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.
“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.
“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”
“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.
“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”
“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.
“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.
“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.
“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.
“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”
“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.
“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”
“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.
“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.
“What’s your type of woman?”
“Everything you aren’t.”
“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.
Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”
“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.
-
Rowan was mesmerized.
The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.
He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.
She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.
With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.
And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.
So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.
Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.
Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.
She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.
Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.
The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.
“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.
-
Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.
A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.
Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.
“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.
“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.
“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”
“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”
“You got it all right.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.
Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.
Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.
Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.
It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.
“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.
tag list:
@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //
#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fic#throne of glass fanfiction#throne of glass#fire on fire#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#aelin galathynius
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"Let me, under your skin."
Note: If you read between the lines of their characters, these are likely no surprise to anyone. These are tactics/traits I believe their s/o can use to exploit the Akudama or get under their skin.
I wasn't gonna post this until @superfanloveraxl encouraged me to, THIS IS HER FAULT—
TW: Toxic & manipulative behavior. Do not read this if that bothers you. This isn't trying to romanticize toxic relationships either. It is something I wrote for fun on a whim of inspiration.
Swindler
Her determined soul. Run her rampant.
Make things difficult or frustrating for her to understand. She'll drive herself mad trying to figure you out. Ask her to do the impossible because she'll sure as hell try. Any difficult tasks that need last minute attention? Wonderful. She'll be exasperated, but she's not letting you do it alone. Even scold her for helping you, tell her you didn't need it when she offered it. Her determined nature will be her downfall, but it's certainly something you can use to your own advantage if you're cunning enough.
Her caretaking and friendly nature.
Overwork her with your neediness. She'll never admit when she's become tired, or ..maybe she will, but nonetheless she'll act like an older sister or mother to you.
Possible innocence or lack of experience in certain situations.
Perfect, isn't it? This allows you the upper hand in a situation she doesn't have any experience in. She can't tell you otherwise if she doesn't know any better.
Lack of physical strength
Again with the asking her to do the impossible, she'll try. Even when she doesn't have the strength at times.
Brawler
His confidence. Destroy it.
A subtle remark here or there should do the trick. You'll avoid any arguments if it flies over his head the first couple of times, but you'll slowly begin to make him wonder. Self doubt isn't something he'll easily cower into, he won't give in... That doesn't mean there's not a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like yours....telling him he's incapable. He'll ruin himself trying to prove you wrong, time and time again. Even if he does, he's still stuck in the cycle you've created for him.
Gullible
He'll believe just about anything you tell him as long as there's no obvious reason for him to question you. Lying to him should prove to be easy, even if you're only mediocre at it.
Determined will-power
He's not a loser. He will follow through with something even if it costs him his life. Albeit, it would have to be something he's passionate about. This just means you have to use something he's passionate about against him though.
One track minded
Once something is on his mind, there's no stopping him. Getting him riled up enough about something is a recipe for disaster, but maybe it's the kind of disaster you were looking to create.
Doctor
Her need for control. Reign over her.
Make decisions that give her false security. Let her think she has the upper hand in all aspects. It's easier to get away with it when it's subtle, but if you're looking to really anger her, laugh in her face when things go as you planned. Trap her in situations that only you have the answer to. In fact, give her lies when she asks you questions. Nothing gets under her skin more than a person she can't predict.
Over confidence
Again, she'll underestimate your intelligence. Well, show her that that's not how it works. Because she sees humans as play toys, you'll annoy her when you're not as easy to play with.
Selfishness
Her selfishness only works if you have the same goal she does. In a way, you'll be letting her use you until you can take the work she's done. It's betrayal at its finest to make someone else do all the work, but because she's so selfish, she will do anything to reach her goal. Then comes the perfect time to take everything from her and claim it as your own.
Hacker
His enthusiasm, reciprocate none of it.
Things that interest him get him talking. Provoke him by mentioning those things then attempt to one-up him in knowledge about it. Give him disinterested looks, sighs and even roll your eyes when he comes to you with something that piqued his interest. Tell him that whatever it is he's talking about, you couldn't be less bothered to look into. He gets your perspective, or does he? Nonetheless it still hurts when you shoot him down as he's explaining something he's been fixated on.
Sense of freedom
Do anything you can to ground him. Of course, this only works in a particular kind of connection as he may just end up forfeiting you in the end. But for the moment you've kept him locked up, he feels stuck between you and his future.
Intelligence
Run him into the ground with favors. If he knows you love him enough, he'll try to thank you by returning the favor in a way he knows how. He's quite smart and it comes handy if you know how to convince him his work is necessary.
Hoodlum
His identity. Make him question it.
Tell him when he's acting out of character, say things like "this isn't you." Oh...then exactly who is he? Take note of when he's being sincere with you, then question the way he saw it with your own perspective. Ask him what his plans are, what his goals in life are. When he says what they are, tell him you think he'd be better off doing something else. If he doesn't know, make him know. Tell him what he wants to be, he'll likely believe it and become miserable trying to live up to your expectations.
Dependent // Loyal
You're his plan A, B, and C. You can easily use this in your favor because you know he's loyal to a fault ....right? He'll likely never betray you ...or ....as long as you don't give him an obvious reason to.
Clumsy
Pick on him for it, make him feel worse about it. This will only cause all the other weaknesses to heighten as a result and now he's got no choice but to relish in it or find a way to stand up for himself.
Insecurity
He's not secure within himself often times and if you can manipulate it just right, you'll make it so he can't bring himself to leave your side. A life with you is painful, but a life without you may be intolerable.
Courier
His empathy, exploit it.
Slowly grow a connection with him through talking, the better he knows your heart, the more sincere his self-reflection within your eyes bother him. He'll listen if he sees a part of himself within you, and through that you'll get him to throw his life away trying to resolve it. Manipulate him in a way that leaves little room to tell you no. He doesn't like it, but he understands you and you'll be able to get him to do things he wouldn't normally do if he can empathize with your position. He couldn't bring himself to leave you because of this either and if he tries, the feeling of abandoning you rips his guilty heart to shreds.
Trust
Make him believe that he can trust you because you'll only break him when you show him he can't. He does not open up to others easily so making him feel unheard or distant can really hinder him trusting you with any information. Even going around and airing his dirty laundry would likely hurt him. Humans are selfish, he's disappointed when he learns that you're the same.
Cutthroat
Your life, void him of it.
Leave him alone as much as possible, isolate him from you. Run if you can, he'll chase you and he won't stop. He'll never get the message that you don't want him in your life, but now he's stuck within an endless loop going after you. Never reciprocate either, push him away with cruel words or gestures. He'll likely forget, but for the moment it stings. Take your own life even, he'll become more than just distraught that it wasn't him your life belonged to in the end.
Devotion
He's devoted to you, so much so that he'd risk his own life in the process. It's easy to get him to do things for you, especially if you put your life in a position that may force him to take extreme measures or to simply have to listen to your requests.
Childish
He's up for playing games, even before he knows the rules. Giving up when something red has caught his eye, it may just be you that can make him falter or look in the other direction.
Impulsive
Emotionally driven to a fault, often his decisions aren't well thought out. This may work against you, but be smart and it can work in favor of you. He won't think before doing something dangerous if the pay off satisfies his burning urge.
#......#don't ask why I wrote these#I didn't want to post them at first in fear people would see me as weird#but I think they can be .... interesting reads ...? I'm not too sure...#I am working on a request too!
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Dorm Leaders as Dads
📝 :: special thanks to @rrasado for giving me the idea to write this!
🌹┆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒
I’m guessing he might’ve only become alright with having kids around his late 20’s to early 30’s as he worries about being a good father.
Being strict is a given considering he was raised but as Riddle is much older, he’s learned to heal from the wounds his mother dealt to him and become more lenient. Among the dorm leaders, he’s the one who is constantly trying to improve so that he doesn’t become like his mother.
Always tries to be there for his child, wanting to be the best parent for them as he knows that being a parent is a huge responsibility.
Takes parenting very seriously and does whatever he can to be a good father. Probably the most serious about this.
His child would end up being a very polite person who always tries to do what is right.
🦁┆ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑
Yeahhh uh good luck asking this one for kids because it’s gonna take a while. I’m guessing he’ll only be fine with it around mid to late 30’s. He’d have to really love his spouse to actually consider it first.
He’s pretty lax with rules when it comes to his child, but still shows them he cares by actually making the effort to spend time with them. When his child has achieved something, he’ll make sure their efforts are rewarded.
He’s definitely a bit protective because he doesn’t actually want his child to face the same prejudice he got as achild. Talk shit about his child and you will regret it.
Probably not a very good father at first to be honest but he’ll try. He’s a quick learner and genius so he’ll be able to develop into a good father later down the line.
The child will end up a bit spoiled but confident and intelligent.
🐙┆ 𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎
Hmm I feel that Azul may be a bit focused on his business but he’ll comply with his spouse’s wishes if they ask. Possibly around mid 20’s
Immediately tried to plan out his child’s life so that they’d have a direction but his spouse likely said that it might not be too good of an idea. He kept it as a backup plan for them, in case they need it. Then, he made sure to research absolutely thoroughly about parenting. His parents didn’t play a big role in his life so he wished to be better than that.
Tweels are the child’s uncles, you can’t convince me otherwise.
Azul is not too strict but not too lax either. Sometimes he’ll be a bit busy with Mostro Lounge but still always makes sure to save some time for his child everyday. He will likely also teach the kid how to protect themselves as he doesn’t want them to be bullied like he was.
The child would grow up to be intelligent and cunning, possibly more so than their father. If they wished it, they could inherit Mostro Lounge too.
🦦┆ 𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌
Would probably want kids as fast as possible, might bug his spouse for one a lot. I’m thinking early 20’s would be when they get a child.
Spoils them to the fucking max that his spouse might have to stop him at one point. No, children usually don’t own entire zoos at the age of 2. No, children usually don’t wear clothes made of the most expensive fabrics money can find—
If Jamil is still somehow around, he might become the godfather of the child.
He’s still a great father despite being a bit over the top with his affections and will always be there to support his child with whatever they wish to do in life.
Their child ends up being more spoiled than Leona’s but is pure and good-natured, very much like their father.
👑┆ 𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓
I take it that like Azul, Vil will be a bit focused in his line of work but it will be easier to convince him to have kids as someone who seems to be quite good with them. I’d say early to mid 20’s will be when the child is conceived.
Vil is already quite the strict mother figure to those around him and he’s not too different to his own child. He fusses and worries over them and their wellbeing a lot. But— he still makes sure they can be independent and confident.
So, as a child actor, Vil has plenty of experience on what it’s like to be one. However, he doesn’t wish to push that onto his child as there’s a lot of bad things he’s experienced in the industry. To protect them, he makes sure to keep their identity a secret to the public.
He makes sure that he supports his child despite his busy schedule and makes for a wonderful and supportive father. Their efforts will never be unnoticed by him because he knows how it feels to have your efforts wasted.
The child grows up to be confident and strict but also bright and charming.
🔧┆ 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃
Probably around his 30’s. I don’t know if his heart would be ready for the responsibility of taking care of a child until that age. It just takes so much energy.
Awkward as hell about it and even tried making android nanies for the child to take care of the child instead of him because he’s worried he would mess up. His spouse would probably reassure him that he’ll be alright and that they’d help him along the way.
If he can’t make android nannies for the child, he’ll make sure to make robot pets so that the child is never lonely even when he’s busy with something.
Even if he’s awkward, Idia tries his best for the child and hopes they see that.
The child grows up to be a bit socially awkward but loveable and a gamer.
🐉┆ 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀
Considering we don’t seem to have an exact age for Malleus, I’ll just say he’s probably chill with kids whenever you’re comfortable.
He’s a great father considering he’s already had experience raising Silver and has Lilia to guide him along the way.
The only downside to him is that as the King of the Valley of Thorns, it’s likely that he’ll be the busiest father among the seven dorm leaders. But worry not, his duties can’t hold him from being a wonderful father to his child all the time.
The child will have many guardians as they grow up like Lilia (the most prominent one), Silver, and Sebek.
Since the child is royalty, they’ll likely grow up to be regal and elegant with grace that rivals the Witch of Thorns herself.
#twisted wonderland#twst#vil schoenheit#malleus draconia#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim#idia shroud#riddle rosehearts
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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 17
Hannibal teaches y/n a useful skill.
@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop
Trigger warnings: use of firearms, discussion of firearms, violence
“So where are we off to next?” You asked, following Will around the office. “Are we questioning this Rachel woman, or are we going straight to the church?”
Will sighed. “Jack and I are going to the church. I’m calling Hannibal to come pick you up.”
“What?” You spat in utter disbelief. “What the hell happened to taking him down together?”
“You’ve already been more help than we could ask for.” Will explained. “This is the end of the line for you. We--”
He cleared his throat and looked down. “I can’t bear to see you get hurt.”
“That’s sweet and everything, but,” You folded your arms. “You really think someone is going to hurt me in broad daylight in a megachurch?”
“Well, somebody stabbed you in broad daylight in a restaurant, and that person just happened to come from this megachurch.” Will rationalized. “So, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question.”
“So that’s it, you’re just going to pass me off to Hannibal?” You threw up your arms. “Look, I had enough of this growing up with divorced parents.”
“Angel,” Will soothed, running a gentle hand down your arm. “Please. I’m begging you, think on this for just a minute and try to see why I don’t want you on this particular excursion?”
You thought on it for a minute. “Churches do kind of trigger me.”
“I saw how tense you got when that woman said she’d kicked her daughter out of the house for dating a girl. I understand, dealing with people who remind you of Chase is going to trigger you.” Will whispered. “Have you even taken any time to work on healing?”
“I could say the same to you.” You disputed. “You killed a woman and then came face-to-face with her mother. Why aren’t you trying to work through that?”
“That’s different.” He blurted out. “That’s my job.”
“Sure.” You snipped. “I have to take time to work through my PTSD, but you don’t. Got it.”
“If you go home with Hannibal now, I promise I will...” He hesitated to finish the sentence. “I’ll work on my issues too. Cross my heart.”
“Oh, I will absolutely hold you to that.” You pointed at him. “And I’m telling Hannibal you said that.”
Will immediately regretted making that promise and it was obvious from his expression. “Please don’t.”
“I am absolutely going to do that.” You said, in a way in which he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not.
Hannibal opened the passenger’s door for you and greeted you with a kiss. He could tell you were feeling off after only a few seconds.
“Why so sad, my indulgence?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Don’t tell me you enjoy Will’s company more than mine?”
“What? No.” You shook your head. “No way.”
“You can tell me what’s on your mind, love.” He assured you.
You sighed and rested your head on the window. “Will doesn’t want me to help on the investigation anymore.”
“I don’t see why he should.” Hannibal agreed. “You’re tracking down the man who tried to kill you, and he’s tracking down the man who tried to kill his lover. Both of you are far too close to the situation and your mental health will suffer for it. But, in the end, it’s Will’s job.”
“I know.” You conceded.
“That, and,” Hannibal continued. “Will is a trained professional under the supervision of other trained professionals. He’s far less likely to get hurt.”
“I get it.” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At the end of the day, he’s the action hero and I’m the damsel in distress.”
“Darling,” Hannibal scolded. “You know our situation isn’t so black-and-white. You know the investigation couldn’t have worked without you.”
“I know.” You pouted. “I just wanted the final blow, y’know? I think I deserve to finish the job.”
Hannibal went quiet for a moment. When you came to a stoplight, he turned his gaze to you. “You want to be more proactive in your safety.”
“Would be nice.” You shrugged.
“I wasn’t asking.” Hannibal corrected. “You do want to be more proactive. It’s why you have a firearms license in your wallet and a handgun in your car. It’s also why you were looking up hunting equipment last night while you were on the phone with Freddie Lounds.”
You swallowed. Every word in the English language escaped you. He was right. You never saw the appeal of guns until you lived alone. Even though a "gun owner" was technically what you were, you didn't want to associate yourself with the jingoistic, hyper-masculine culture affixed to the term. You were just a woman who kept a gun in her car and had all the proper licensing and registration for it. Nothing wrong with that. So why did it have you feeling so defensive?
You lowered your head. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Lying about Freddie Lounds.” You finished. “I don’t know why I felt the need to lie about that, in hindsight-”
“I understand.” Hannibal cut you off. “You were just doing what you felt needed to be done. Will would have done the same.”
He was right again.
“Ambitious of you to select a shotgun as your weapon of choice.” Hannibal observed. “At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I have to ask. Do you know how to use one?”
“No.” You admitted. “It was just a power fantasy, I guess. All I know is that you can blast a guy’s head off with one.”
Without a word, Hannibal took an abrupt turn.
“Isn’t your place that way?” You asked, pointing in the opposite direction.
“Do you have your license on you now?” He asked.
“Of course I do, why?”
“Because we’re going to make your power fantasy a reality.” He answered.
Soon enough, you pulled up to a large hunting store with a shooting range attached.
“Go in and pick out something you like.” Hannibal instructed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be waiting for you at the range and I can teach you how to use it.”
He offered you one of his shiny metal credit cards. When you didn’t immediately take it, he pushed it closer to you.
“I just got a thousand dollars from Freddie Lounds.” You pushed his hand away. “I can pay for it.”
“You deserve something much nicer than only a thousand dollars can buy you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened.
“So then I’ll buy something more than a thousand dollars and use your credit card to make up the difference.” You offered.
“No.” Hannibal said, sternly. “I will buy you a nice gun and plenty of ammo, and you will save your thousand dollars for when you open your own restaurant.”
“How did you-” You objected.
He cut you off. “Will isn’t very good at keeping secrets, dear. Take it.”
You laughed uncomfortably. “Hannibal, if you don’t put that credit card away I will bite your finger off.”
His thin lips curled into a cunning smile. He offered you his other hand. “Bite away, darling.”
You wordlessly snatched the card from his hand.
“Oh, pity.” Hannibal feigned disappointment. “Did I call your bluff?”
You tucked the card away in your pocket. You leaned in as if you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek, but playfully nipped at his earlobe.
"Remind me to give you a little special attention when the lesson is up." He whispered, his hand clutching your arm.
You made sure to walk away slowly, rolling your hips with every step.
You entered the store, feeling overwhelmed and significantly less confident than you did while shopping for guns online.
An employee approached you. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever sexist comment he was about to hurl at you. But somebody must have taught this particular associate that being a misogynist prick doesn't sell guns.
"Anything I can help you find, ma'am?"
Your mouth ran before your brain. "I'd like to buy a gun, please."
"Well, you've come to the right place." The employee smiled. "What kind of gun are you looking for?"
"A shotgun." You corrected.
"Well, we have plenty of makes and models to choose from." He clapped his hands together and led you to a wall lined with shotguns. "Any specifics in mind?"
"I guess I just want something simple enough to use." You scratched the back of your head. "My boyfriend is taking me skeet shooting this weekend so I don't have time to learn all the complicated mechanics."
"So skeet?" The man put his hands down on the counter and looked deep in thought. He turned around and pulled one off the shelf. "I'd recommend this CZ over-under. It's a good place to start."
He offered it to you. Your eyes widened and your first instinct was to refuse.
He looked at you with confusion. "How are you gonna shoot anything if you don't hold it?"
You shook off your nerves and took the gun in your hands. It was a little heavy, and tilted near the stock. You looked at it as if it were a beautiful but deadly venomous tropical snake.
"Over-under's are the working man's shotgun." The employee said. "Or, woman, as it were."
You held it up to your shoulder like you saw in movies and felt a strange rush of exhilaration pulsing through your body.
"It's nice, right?" He asked. "And you can get to the trigger okay?"
"I'll take it." You said. "And some bullets, please."
"Now we're cooking with gas." He answered, a big smile on his face. "Let's get you rung up."
The fact that he didn't even stop to notice that the name on your license didn't match the name on the credit card only emphasized your country's need for stricter gun control laws. Even if the lack of such laws benefitted you in that moment, the ease of the process killed you a little.
The total came up to just under a thousand dollars. You couldn't bring yourself to spend more than you planned to, even if it was Hannibal's treat. You already felt weird about using Hannibal's money, let alone so much of it.
The employee saw you out with a friendly "happy skeeting" and you set off to meet Hannibal at the range.
"There you are, love." He greeted you. He had removed his suit coat and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.
For a split second, you completely forgot about the gun and were overtaken by the need to fuck him. You quickly regained control of yourself. "Yeah. I found something."
"I should hope so." He said, beckoning to you from the stall. "Come now. Let me show you what to do."
You stood in front of the booth, ears and eyes protected. At the end of the long booth was a paper target. Hannibal positioned himself behind you. He took your hand in his and guided it to the stock wrist.
"Wrap your fingers around here, like this." He instructed, his dark, accented voice shaking you to your core. "Now extend your finger to reach the trigger. Yes, that's it."
"Now place your other hand on the fore-end and hold the end of the stock against your shoulder."
The way he shaped your body, positioned your limbs felt almost alarmingly natural. He wasn't just indulging your power fantasy, he was directing it.
"Cheek against the stock, love." He instructed. "The gun is an extention of you. You must hold it firmly and give it support. You move with it, it moves with you."
He rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a package of shells. "Are you ready to shoot it, darling?"
"I think I should probably load it first." You said, nervously.
"Well that should take us no time at all." Hannibal approached with two 12 gauge shotshells. "Go ahead and engage the break lever right at the edge of the barrel."
When the gun suddenly bent in half, your first thought was that you'd broken it. Hannibal handed you the two shells and watched you timidly slide one into each barrel.
You felt yourself shaking and your palms were damp with sweat. You swallowed. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Were you afraid the first time you drove a car?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
"Cripplingly." You nodded. "I was so scared I didn't take my foot off the brake the whole time."
"But now driving comes just as naturally to you as walking." Hannibal smiled comfortingly. He placed his hands over yours and returned you to the shooting position. On one side, the cold stock rested against your cheekbone. On the other, Hannibal's hot breath grazed against your skin. "It just takes some getting used to."
Your finger squeezed the trigger and the massive projectile exploded from the gun. The stock pushed back into your shoulder, making you stumble backwards into Hannibal.
"Holy shit!" You exclaimed. "That's got some serious recoil. Is it supposed to do that?"
Hannibal chuckled and took a step back, giving you a little space. "Yes, darling. Now go ahead and fire off the next shot."
Your eyes widened. "Okay."
"Remember, you move with the gun, you don't fight the gun." He instructed. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it."
You squeezed the trigger again, this time fully expecting the recoil. The shot fired, and this time it hit the target.
You hopped in delight. "Holy shit I actually got one!"
"All it takes is a little getting used to." Hannibal stroked your hair. "Now unload the shotgun shells and let's go again."
#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#hannibal nbc#hannibal x reader#the sommelier#hannibal x you x will#hannigram x reader#will graham#hannigram x you#will graham x you#will graham x reader#tw guns#tw violence
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Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Six
I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV, LV
cowritten by @lux-scriptum
Biela was in one of the cities of Assyra, helping provide some form of comfort and support to the many grieving families left without their young. The cities of her kingdom were slowly building their way back to their former glory thanks to the war ending, but there was still much, much work to be done.
And she would not rest until it was.
She was still half tempted to take her frustrations out on that angel and his foolish cousin who decided to defy nature in her lands, leaving her people to pay the consequences. But she held back, if only so they could live with what they had done.
Dacia and Caius both were with her to provide as much light and warmth in this time, something she had always lacked the ability to provide. Dacia stood by her side while combing the streets for a period of respite.
“I do hope this haunts them,” Biela said, darkly, letting Dacia link their arms together.
“I am sure it will,” Dacia replied. “Levant and Amara both.”
“Hmph.”
They let silence fall for a bit longer when she felt a tugging at her skirt. She nearly thought it was some mangy animal, but stopped moving when she realized it was a child that was clinging to her skirts, clearly trying to keep herself from tumbling to the ground.
“Who’s child is this?” Biela demanded, looking around.
Dacia was already moving to scooping her up when Biela locked eyes on a violet eyed child that had a hand half reaching for the toddler in Dacia’s arms. She nearly went after them had it not been for their bolting like a rabbit, likely to get as far away from Biela as physically possible.
Of course it ran. Biela never had much luck with children capable of forming their own opinions. They more often than not were best left silent. But for some reason, this particular toddler decided to demand her attention.
Dacia seemed to be looking the child over, checking for cuts or bruises, though she couldn’t find any. She gave Biela a look that had Biela frowning at her. “What.”
“Well, clearly she had a home.”
“Oh really?” Biela asked. “From the looks of it I’d say she was missing a few requirements for that, considering her very dirty skin on top of her very dirty clothes.”
“Well all the more reason to take her with us,” Dacia replied. “Children are dying. We cannot let another fall through the cracks.”
“I suppose,” Biela said, eyeing the child staring right back at her. She squinted.
When the child removed her hand from her mouth, as soaked with slobber as it was, she still reached out for Biela. Biela frowned in distaste. She had been soaked in blood once, but she still was not a fan of fluids from infants. “I will not take you,” Biela retorted to the baby. “But fine, we will bring her with us.”
Biela thought back to the last thing Raziel had said to her the day before. That ‘Congratulations’ stuck out in Biela’s mind and she had half a thought to go wring that old bird’s neck.
She hated seers.
---
Lev was closing the door to Eden's nursery oh so carefully when Ash found him. And by found him, Lev meant Ash smacked the side of his leg with his cane. Lev stifled a yelp, so he didn’t wake Eden, and glared at Ash. It was safe to do so because Ash couldn’t see him.
“Ow,” Lev mumbled, sidestepping another sweep of the cane. “I- can I help you?” He paused, and quickly corrected himself. “Is everything okay?”
“Hm. Pick a new tone,” Ash said, flippantly. “I want you to make yourself useful and take me to Cameron’s library.”
Lev sighed softly, and started walking. “It’s this way,” he said, just to get Ash started. “Though I don’t think he’s got any books in braille.”
“Well lucky for me I’m not going to be the one doing the reading,” Ash replied, following after him.
“Am I-” Lev bit off his questions, and instead said, “It’s up these stairs, and then we’re gonna take a left.”
Ash slowly followed after him, taking one step at a time, clearly not quite used to climbing the stairs without the morsels of eyesight he once had.
Lev quietly narrated the path he took to one of the tables he liked to frequent during the few times he’d had the time to sequester himself away in the library. It was near the very meager collection of fiction Cameron had; most everything else in here seemed to be non-fiction of all sorts.
“I’m sure there’s a system,” Ash said, side stepping the things in his way. “Knowing Cameron it’s bound to be just as elaborate as his many personalities.” At Lev’s confusion Ash sighed. “A catalogue. Something to classify the books to keep them separate by title or genre or subject or something.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah. There is. Do- do you need me to find you a book?”
“I want you to find every book in Cameron’s library about the gods,” Ash said, leaning against one of the shelves. “You’re going to actually learn something about well, something aside from whatever romance novel you are currently gurgitating.”
“Gurgitating,” Lev mumbled to himself, trying not to sound annoyed. He puffed out a breath, and then, “I’ll see if I can find a few. There’s a table next to you if you want to sit.” Though Ash might prefer to stand, so he could complain about that too.
He could feel Ash’s glare against his back. “I’m coming with you, genius,” Ash said. “How about you knock the attitude off. I can feel your passive aggressive puffiness from here.”
Lev considered that, and then decided honesty was the best policy. “I’m just a little cranky,” he said, and then added, “And so are you. I’m sorry if I’ve been snapping at you, though. Shouldn’t take crankiness out on someone else. Not their fault.”
“Duly noted,” Ash said. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to someone who cares. Now take me to the books.”
Lev led the way, gathering every book Ash told him to, up until his arms started to get tired, and then he very firmly insisted they go back to the table. “I can’t carry any more,” he said, “And I certainly can’t read all of these in one sitting. The rest aren’t going anywhere.”
“That’s fine,” Ash said, taking a few books from him to tuck under his arm. “You won’t be able to retain all of what you need to know if you do that.”
Lev sighed, loud enough for Ash to definitely hear this time, but just settled down at his table, spreading the books out. Ash took the chair across from Lev and had him pull out the first book.
“Do you want me to read out loud?” Lev asked after a moment of staring at the introduction.
“Tell me what you know about the gods,” Ash said. “The angels should have given you a rudimentary understanding of each god in school, but angelic teachings tend… to embellish a little and make Asmi seem more important than the others. Which is not to say they’re not important,” Ash added, hastily. “As they are the god to the angels, but each is important and I want to figure out how much work you’re going to need to understand.”
Lev paused, trying to dig up memories well over a century old. “I knew of Asmi,” Lev confirmed. “And they said that demons split their worship between... Five? Five gods? I think? I know demonic magic is tied to specific gods. I think. Or- there’s a choosing?”
“There is Kaveh, the oldest- twin to Asmi, who is the one who created both the other gods and the demons. Demons were pulled from the earth as angels were the stars. Kaveh’s magic is one of the most powerful, bestowed as they are the oldest god in the pantheon,” Ash said. “They rule magic such as telepathy and forms of telekinesis and other mental based magics.”
Ash took a breath. “Asmi, as Kaveh’s twin, was born at the same time. It was just them alone in the universe, right? Asmi created the angels so of course they would become the patron to all angels. As they are tied to the natural balance, all our abilities come from nature.”
“Third,” Ash said, “Is Mizra. Mizra is the seer. Knows all that is, was and all that could be. They’re known for being relatively… prickly, I guess. Just like Kaveh, but a different flavor. Next is Ruya. Ruya is the god of echos and reigns over the illusion workers. And lastly is Basim who rules over empathy based magics. Anything having to do with the emotional spectrum. Each god has access to the rawest magic, but only demons can access the designated power that each god rules over.” He paused, took another breath and leaned back. “Does any of that make sense?”
Lev blinked several times. “I...” he trailed off. “That was a lot. But.. I think so?” Even though Ash couldn’t see, Lev ticked them off on his fingers, “Kaveh is the oldest, and rules mental magics. Asmi is balance, Mizra is the Sight, Ruya is echoes and illusions. And- Um. Bas- Basim is empaths?”
“Yes,” Ash said, satisfied. “They’re each patron to a particular person they find interesting, so a person can have two gods bugging them, but only hold power for one, if that makes sense? They might just… be a little more enhanced. Kaveh: the cunning and resourceful; Asmi: the natural order and witches; Mizra: survivors; Ruya: the wild and unchained, and Basim: patron to the merciful.”
“I... I think so?” Lev said hesitantly. “Does everyone have a god who is their patron? Or only specific people?”
Ash rose a shoulder. “I think it’s just certain people that the gods have taken a liking to. I haven’t read anything about every single demon having a patron on top of their god.”
Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said out loud after a moment. “I think that makes sense.” He tapped his thumb on the book, and then asked thoughtfully, “Do gods favor bloodlines? I never really paid much attention to if demons’ magic was genetic or not...”
“I do think sometimes it’s through bloodlines, unless a god has deliberately chosen the child. Their magic usually comes in around five to seven years old; just like an angel’s,” Ash said. “The gods wait to see what the child will grow into and go from there.”
“That makes sense,” Lev mumbled, more to himself than anything, and then said, “So there’s no real way to know what kind of magic Eden will have, then?”
“Not until she’s close to five, no.”
Lev gave a small hum. “Does Asmi ever choose demons?” He asked, just out of sheer curiosity.
“If they find a liking to a person, sure,” Ash said. “They’ll most likely bless that bloodline. Isn’t Sorin a demon with fire magic anyways? Also, Asmi likely is responsible for the few powerful bloodlines of demonic healers. They’re very rare, just like elemental demonic users.”
Lev gave a few blinks. “I didn’t-” He thought again. “Right. Fax’s cousin.” After another awkward pause, he added, “I forgot. Fax had fire magic too. He just so rarely used it. Mostly to light his cigarettes or the fireplace.”
Ash looked vaguely disapproving with the mention of cigarettes, but said nothing about it. “Sazra’s bloodline is most likely one blessed by Asmi. She’s one of the very few demonic healers I have met. And she’s a very strong one at that. Probably why she was in this house for so long. Demons were never very kind to their healers- always enslaved them.”
Oh. Lev looked down. “I’m guessing she wouldn’t want my pity,” he said slowly.
“Probably not,” Ash said. “But back to what I was saying. Power and magic are tied to the gods and the gods are tied to us. Sometimes even the gods walk among the people, though Asmi is somewhat trapped in their realm whereas the other gods are not.” Ash grimaced. “Instead they get to use me as their mouthpiece.”
“They’re trapped?” Lev asked, his concern getting dragged away from Sazra. “That sounds awful.”
“Less trapped and more they don’t have a physical form,” Ash admitted. “If they want company from us mere mortals they are very capable of yanking us to them.”
“Oh,” Lev said, considering that. “Do they do that often?”
“I’m not sure with other people besides me,” Ash said, “but they sure do like my company. Maybe a little too much.”
“I’m sorry,” Lev said honestly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s fine,” Ash said. “I’ll manage.”
Lev frowned, but Ash couldn’t see. He tapped the book with his thumb. “Do the gods talk directly to their followers often? Like when... when Asmi spoke to me, before I came back? Or did they only do so because I was... partly dead.”
“I think… they were curious and infuriated. Not many people show up on the gods' radar. When they do, they take notice.”
Lev nodded. “So they don’t visit people often. And that’s true for all the gods?”
Ash lifted a shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, yeah. Maybe us mere mortals aren’t all that interesting in the grand scheme of things, though I’m sure they do find our little lives absolutely hilarious sometimes.”
“Ah,” Lev said, rubbing his face. “I suppose bastardizing nature would put me on their radar,” he sighed.
“And now we don’t have magic,” Ash said, sardonically. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Asmi soon.”
---
Cameron was seated in the chair while Darius napped. He had been working on the backed up paperwork from the last several days. He had a solid chunk of paperwork from both the club and further Obsidian Court workings when there was a feather light knock on the door.
He bit back his irritable sigh and looked up to see one of the sentries standing stiffly in the doorway. Cameron flicked Darius a look, to make sure he was still sleeping before fixing his attention on the sentry. “What do you want?”
“There’s an angel here,” they said.
“I am aware there are several angels here,” Cameron said, crossly. “Be more specific.”
“Raziel,” he rushed out. “Um, she said her name was Raziel.”
Oh brilliant. “And what does that overcooked chicken want?” Cameron said, flatly. “Lev is unable to speak with his family for the next several decades.”
“She’s here for you, sir.”
“You can tell Raziel to fly her carcass back to her roost,” Cameron said, turning his focus back to his work, dismissing the sentry to do his bidding.
Cameron had but a few moments of peace before the sentry returned, looking rather ashened. “I’m afraid she was rather insistent, sir.”
Cameron sighed sharply out of his nose and got to his feet. The sentry stiffened slightly as Cameron walked past him, ordering him to not take his eyes off Darius while Cameron dealt with the ancient angel.
“And to what do I owe this displeasure,” Cameron said, eyeing Raziel, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Mizra sent me,” Raziel said, irritatingly calm as always. “So unfortunately, I am not able to leave until I’ve passed their message along.”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I haven’t been to a temple in well over five hundred years.” In fact, he had never stepped foot inside one to begin with. “Why would they bother themselves with my presence now?”
“Both kingdoms are healing,” Raziel said. “And they’re tired of waiting for you to come to them. I’m sure if I hadn’t reached out to them for my own reasons they would have found another way to reach out to you and demand you listen.”
Cameron fixed his jaw. “We’ll speak in my office,” he said, walking past her.
Raziel followed him, staying a good three paces behind him until they reached the office. She even settled in the chair without prompting, hooking one knee over the other.
Cameron took his place behind his desk and leaned back. He eyed her for a few seconds, trying to figure the best approach to handle both Mizra and Raziel. “I have not participated in the Rite,” Cameron said, evenly. “I am not able to, so I do not have any connections with Mizra.”
Every demon born had their god and had their own coming of age where they cemented their connection to their god. Every demon, legitimate or not, was supposed to form the connections with their god in order to fully claim their abilities. Cameron never had, his mother had forbade it, so his magic was barely a whisper of anything- calling it a magic felt like too grand of a word. He had never spoken to a priestess, of any god. Cameron had no Rite to claim.
Raziel didn’t even blink. “Then complete it. Before Mizra starts meddling more personally.”
“I do not have the time,” Cameron said. “And I am now much too old. Have been for well over five hundred years.”
“Make time. Your god demands it.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Your household doesn’t need a second god looking at it with ire. Nothing I remember of the Rite says you can’t complete it later in life.” Her silver eyes tracked his every minute move. “I’m sure you’re not the only one with subpar parents.”
“I suggest you do not speak ill of my parents,” Cameron said, flippantly. “They’re my problem and they’re also dead. No need for you to make judgements that do not pertain to you. Besides, the Rite is a demonic passage. Perhaps you should keep to your own lane in that matter. I will make time, but it will have to wait.” Cameron rubbed his temples, alleviating the growing pressure. “As I said, I am busy.”
“I did not mean offense,” Raziel said mildly. “I spoke only of what Mizra told me. And on top of what they’ve said of your parents, ill or otherwise, they have insisted you speak to them.”
“What part of ‘I am busy’ seems to get lost in your decrepit mind?” Cameron snapped.
It was then that Cameron felt himself be… pulled somewhere; he and Raziel both. Cameron went very still when a very pale… being was standing in front of him. Mizra, he presumed, with their pale skin and white hair, almost a similar likeness to himself. They looked less than pleased to drag him here into their realm. “When I request you,” they said, coolly. “I do not mean to be put off for something you consider more important. There is nothing more important than I, do you understand me?”
“My apologies,” Cameron said. “I did not mean any disrespect.”
Mizra’s eyes narrowed. “There is not an ounce of respect in your frail little body, Cameron Luain.”
“Mizra,” Raziel said. “It would make pulling us here rather pointless if you lose your temper now.” And then she smiled at the god.
Mizra fixed their mouth into a thin line. “Your mother,” they said, turning back to face Cameron, “defied my wishes when she decided to keep you from me in attempt to keep you powerless.” Cold washed down Cameron’s skin. “She is now rotting in the ground and no longer an obstacle, therefore, I am very kindly requesting you have the Rite performed.”
Cameron flicked Raziel a glance before tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I suppose I will make the time,” he bit out, bowing his head slightly.
He could feel their very smug faint smile directed his way. “Very good,” they said. “It seems when I told Raziel to fix you, I had not accounted for how foolishly bullheaded you male creatures are.”
“Thank you for your assistance,” Raziel interjected. “I apologize I was not able to successfully pass along your message on my own.”
Mizra frowned at her. “Yes, I do suppose you did fail in your one task, Raziel. I had expected far better from someone I had blessed.”
“I suppose I’m out of practice,” Raziel replied. “I’ll do better next time.” If Cameron didn’t know better he’d say Raziel’s silver eyes, so eerily similar to Mizra’s, crinkled with affection at the god.
“As you should,” Mizra said, primly. “Failure is unacceptable and I would so hate to find someone else to keep me company. Most of you mortals are rather boring.”
Cameron was rapidly growing all the more irritable with these too ancient beings and found the phantom pain in his head to be growing steadily behind his eye.
Mizra cut their focus to Cameron. “And while I have you here,” they said, “I expect you to start eating something. You’re too thin and disgusting. You need to eat more.”
Cameron stared blankly at the god. “You want me to eat more?” he echoed.
Why would a god care about his eating habits?
“Oh please,” Mizra huffed, “I do detest repeating myself.”
“I could always check in on him,” Raziel offered.
Cameron cut her a withering glare. The last thing he needed was Raziel to babysit him. “Last I checked,” Cameron said, “you were barred from Lev’s presence.”
Mizra waved a dismissive hand. “You make it sound like I care what your little king wants,” Mizra said. “Raziel will do my bidding and hold your hand if need be.”
Cameron felt rage boil under his skin, but promptly kept his mouth shut.
“I highly doubt I’ll need to go that far,” Raziel said, amused.
“Was there anything else you required of me,” Cameron bit out.
“Oh very well, very well,” Mizra said, “If you’re going to act like a child I will send you back. Raziel, I will speak to you soon.”
With that, Cameron felt himself be dropped into his body.
Raziel looked annoyingly unruffled. “So I’ll see you next week?” She said lightly.
Cameron got to his feet and leaned over his desk. “Get the hell out of my house right now,” he snapped. “If you are not off of my property in the next five minutes I will not be so pleasant. Get out now.”
Raziel lifted a single brow, but stood gracefully. “I’ll let you know before I come over next time,” she said on her way out. “Do not make Mizra wait much longer. They have much less patience than I.”
Cameron let the door shut behind her before he nearly collapsed in his chair. He grabbed his head, tight, hoping to alleviate the pressure building, but it did very little.
---
Nik woke from his nap, still angry and irritable. The last twenty-four hours had not done much for his temper so he had taken a nap. And that did not help either. He wandered the house and found a rather beautiful man in the bedroom, sitting up in the bed. “Well you must be Darius,” Nik said, crossly.
The man gave him a rather mild smile and nodded.
Nik’s eyes narrowed. “So are you crippled and can’t talk or are you being annoying on purpose.” When Darius didn’t say anything, because of course he didn’t, Nik said, “Right, whatever. So I guess you’re Cameron’s boyfriend or something? And you were dead, so why didn’t you stay dead? Nevermind, that’s stupid. I guess if you were going to defy nature, you might as well do it for Cameron.”
Darius cocked his head and reached for a pad of paper only to scribble a ‘It’s nice to meet you, Nik.’
“Oh please,” Nik said, “I’m being a dickhead to you. You don’t need to lie to me.”
‘I’m not lying,’ Darius wrote. ‘I’m rather used to crass language when people are upset.”
“I’m being crass?” Nik demanded. “I think you being alive is rather inconvenient for me since everyone in this damned house knows who the hell you are besides me.”
‘I apologize for Cameron not telling you,’ Darius said. ‘It was all rather sudden. I do hope we can be friends, Nik.’
Nik rolled his eyes. “Do I look like someone who has friends?”
‘Ash and Amara seem rather fond of you,’ Darius observed.
Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, Ash and Amara make bad choices daily, so I wouldn’t hold either of them to a high standard. Case in point: bringing people back from the dead and killing a million kids, but hey, what do I know?”
And now he’s in the line of fire.
Sympathy shone in Darius’ eyes and it took tremendous effort to not wipe that infuriating look off his face. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not Cameron and I’m sure as hell not Lev. Puppy eyes don’t work on me.”
‘Well, I’m actually a cat.’
“Oh great,” Nik said. “You’re a cat.”
Darius gave him a dry, feline smile. ‘Not a fan of cats?’
“Not this particular one.”
‘If it helps,’ Darius wrote. ‘Cameron loathes cats as well.”
“Well he clearly likes you,” Nik said, frowning. “If you claw up my clothes, I’ll cut your hair off.”
‘Well, I will make a note to leave your clothes alone,’ Darius replied.
“I think you enjoy mocking me,” Nik said. “You get to waltz in and drop into my relationship because Cameron killed you or something. I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic.”
That was the moment Lev chose to poke his head in. His brows furrowed in his usual expression of worry, and he was quick to cross the room. Nik folded his arms as he watched Lev kiss Darius on the cheek.
Traitor.
Lev was just as quick to tuck himself into Nik’s side, however, insistently tugging at Nik’s arms until he could pull it around his shoulders. Against his will, Nik felt himself loosening as Lev scented him, a low soothing purr coming from Lev as he did.
“Is everything okay?” Lev asked.
“I mean I guess,” Nik said, crossly. “I wake up to him in my bed that I can’t even sleep in because I guess it was his bed first, or something.”
Lev nosed at Nik’s jaw lightly. “It was,” Lev said unhelpfully, and then, with irritating optimism, Lev added, “We can pick another room. Any room. I doubt Cameron will make you stay in the rooms he’s moved us to right now. And I also doubt he’d say no about much of anything when it comes to decorating your new room. Not right now, anyway. The opportunities are almost endless.”
“Whatever,” Nik said. “I have to move around my life because Cameron felt bad for killing the guy.” He glared at Darius frowning at him. “You’re not special,” he said. “Just because you’re some pretty face doesn’t mean shit. We’re all pretty faces. Don’t expect me to get in line to kiss your ass like everyone else.”
Darius blinked at him, seemingly bewildered, but he just nodded at him.
“Nikolas,” Lev chastised, but even his scolding was tempered by worry. “Darius hasn’t done anything. And I was the one that asked for him; I’m the one that told Cameron he was still there.” Lev hesitated, and then added gently, “Darius helped me while I was dead. He kept me steady, kept me sane. He deserves another chance as much as I do. More. He’s a kind person, Nik. That’s all.”
Nik sighed through his nose. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Is Cameron home or is he going to resurrect some other not-boyfriend?”
Lev shrugged. “Last I saw he was in here with Darius, so I don’t know.”
‘I think he’s in his office,’ Darius offered.
“I’m hungry,” Nik mumbled, pathetically.
“I can go get Cameron,” Lev offered, oh-so-helpfully. “With everything going on I don't think it’s a good idea for us to touch anything in his kitchen. Besides, Eden should wake up from her nap soon, and she’ll need a snack too.”
“Okay.”
---
Lev knocked on Cameron’s office door lightly, but didn’t wait to open it. The room was dark, and Lev almost assumed it was empty, but he heard a quiet, “Shut the door,” from the direction of Cameron’s desk, so he slipped inside, closing it obediently.
After letting his eyes adjust, Lev realized Cameron was bent over the desk, head in his arms. Lev chose to approach slowly, hovering his hand over Cameron’s shoulder before ultimately letting it drop back to his side instead. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“I’m fine,” Cameron said, stiffly. “Just a headache.”
Right. Lev worried his lip between his teeth. “Nik’s hungry,” he finally said. “I can make him something, if you’d like.”
“Fine,” Cameron said, dismissively. “Just clean up after yourself.”
Lev nodded, but didn’t move. “I had something else to ask,” he finally said. “If that’s okay?”
“Alright.”
“I should probably get back to training, if I can get Ash to sign off on it? Or Sazra?” Lev fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, and then grimaced. “Or- can I? I don't- it doesn’t have to be you, but- I had planned- without my magic- well, without my magic, I really am useless, aren’t I? And I don’t like feeling like I’m a vulnerability for Nik, especially when he’s pregnant.” He took a deep breath, hardened his tone. “I won’t let anything happen to my mate.”
“Probably,” Cameron agreed. “Get it okayed by Ash and Sazra and I will put it into my schedule. I’ll fit you in.”
“I- oh. Okay,” Lev said, trying not to be too enthusiastic. He put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder as he started to say, “Thank you,” but his voice died a little as he realized just how thin Cameron’s shoulder was.
Cameron carefully removed Lev’s hand from his shoulder. Even in the dark Lev could see Cameron giving him a slow once over, noting how clothes that had fit perfectly a month ago were just a little loose now. Lev hadn’t paid attention before, but Cameron’s shrewd gaze made him hyper aware.
“Make sure you eat too,” was all Cameron said in the end. “And close the door behind you when you leave.”
Lev swallowed. He ran his fingers through Cameron’s hair once, just to reassure himself that he could, that they were both still there and then backed for the door. “I’ll bring you something later,” he promised. “And some painkillers.”
He made sure that the door clicked shut as quietly as he could.
---
While Cyrus flipped through one of the several books he’d lain on the bed, Sorin napped sprawled on his lap. Sorin’s surprisingly strong tail wrapped around his wrist insistently, the prehensile appendage tugging every once and a while as the demon dreamed.
Cyrus had spent the last few hours reading up on the gods. While he was certainly more educated, he felt like it was only a surface level understanding of them. Which- understandable. There was a lot, and these were gods.
Rather than continue to stare blankly at the pages, Cyrus settled more deeply into the pillows he was propped up against. Sorin huffed at him, his tail tightening briefly, but when Cyrus made no move to get up, the demon fell asleep again pretty quickly.
Once the house was quiet, Cyrus closed his eyes and tried to remember how Darius had shown him how to reach out for Asmi. It’d certainly been more ritualistic than Cyrus was able to do right now, but even attempting without the words and candles and pomp and ceremony, when Cyrus opened his eyes, he was back in the warm room, Asmi seated before him.
“Asmi,” Cyrus said, dipping into a small bow. He looked up, offering a small smile. “Will it always be that easy to reach you?”
Asmi lifted a brow. “If you were aware of your studies, you would know,” they said, amused.
Cyrus gave a shrug in acquiescence. “True,” he said, “But who better to ask my questions than you? I’ve been reading, while my mate keeps me on bedrest. Trying to understand all of it. The sheer amount of literature to wade through is... overwhelming.”
Asmi brought their tea to their lips. “I imagine getting caught up on nearly forty years of spellwork will take you some time. I’m sure you will now have plenty of time to do so without your magic distracting you.”
“Was taking my magic an opportunity to learn or a punishment?” Cyrus asked, out of sheer curiosity.
Asmi merely gave Cyrus a slight smile.
Cyrus settled in the closest chair with a bit more weight than he usually would. It seemed even in this dimension he was weaker than usual. “Some things have to remain a secret, then?” He asked, mulling it over.
“I told you there will be a price to pay,” they said. “You will pay it tenfold. I do not like to be made weakened by anyone, and this time, my point will be made.”
“I understand,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t take this lightly, and I will work hard to learn what I can while without magic.”
“Excellent,” Asmi said, setting their mug of tea down. “You will not regain your magic until I am satisfied.” Asmi flicked a hand, and with a ripple of magic Ash, Lev and Darius appeared in the room with them.
Ash was quick to bow deeply before standing upright wearily. “You summoned me?”
Cyrus flicked a glance at the other two; Lev was quite bewildered, though he gave an echo of Ash’s movements after a beat. Darius gave his own slow bow before quietly buckling into the chair behind him.
Cyrus thought about moving to check on him, but Lev beat him to it, fussing quietly while keeping an eye on Asmi warily. As much as he hated to admit it, he was relieved. It would have taken a lot of energy to stand. Instead he fixed Asmi with another curious stare. “I assume you have a message for all four of us?”
“You should watch your assumptions,” Asmi said. “But yes, I do and I did not feel the need to repeat myself four different times.”
“Apologies,” Cyrus murmured, before falling silent expectantly.
“Apologies noted,” Asmi said, crossing their legs. “I have spoken to Levant already, about carrying a piece of the burden should you defy the natural balance once more. You have all felt its effects. There is and will be a void where your magic was and would be, and that void shall remain until you earn the right to your magic. I demand respect from the lot of you and for you to learn a lesson.”
Ash looked a mix of rage and submission but ultimately hung his head without a word.
“How do we earn it?” Lev asked, and then immediately looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up. Cyrus grimaced in sympathy, but he’d been wondering the same thing, and so he simply looked to Asmi again. Earning it could mean a thousand things, and they were all from different places and backgrounds in life.
A serpentine smile curled on Asmi’s lips. “I am glad you ask. You will all learn everything about the gods, you will worship and devote yourselves accordingly. You will become nearly as knowledgeable and devoted as a priestess and you will not have your magic returned to you until all of you satisfy me. Not one, not three. All four of you will satisfy me or none of you will satisfy me.”
“Understood,” Cyrus said. He’d honestly expected something worse, and judging by the surprise on Lev’s face, so had the angel. Ash and Darius were harder to read, but that was just fine.
Asmi’s eyes narrowed, seemingly reading his mind. “Be glad it is not Kaveh. Would you wish to want harsher punishments, I am sure they will be more than willing to provide.”
“Of course,” Cyrus murmured. Where faint enthusiasm had grown in Lev's expression, it’d quickly become ashen, and he’d reached for Darius’ hand silently.
Darius quietly squeezed Lev's hand. “Your mercy is much appreciated,” Darius murmured, hoarsely. “We will do all that you ask.”
Lev nodded vigorously, again simply echoing the sentiment.
“I will make sure to help in any way,” Ash said. “I already have Lev reading the old books on the various gods from Cameron’s library.”
Cyrus nodded slowly. “I might reach out to you,” he said to Ash, before adding, “And Sorin can find resources for me in places I cannot go. Though it might be a few days; we’re going to be moving soon, before Biela’s mercy wanes. I won’t be welcome in demonic territory at all for the foreseeable future, if ever.”
“I can’t leave Cameron’s house,” Lev piped up nervously. “And Darius shouldn’t be moving around much yet either.”
“Well it’s not like your magic is going anywhere,” Asmi replied. “I’m sure you will figure out how to get to a temple. The lot of you are irritatingly creative.”
“Best see if Biela has any mercy left to spare,” Cyrus advised, even as he thought internally that they might not get their magic back in the next half century just from this.
“Better chance of draining the ocean with a straw,” Ash muttered.
Lev sighed softly, and looked down at Darius. “I can talk to Cameron,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”
When Darius nodded tiredly, Asmi said, “If you all have nothing else interesting to say I am sending you back.” They didn’t give much room for Lev, Darius, or Ash to speak before they disappeared.
Cyrus blinked at where they had been. “Thank you,” he said, and then clarified, “For taking the time to explain. You could have left us to flounder.”
“I see no point wasting my time,” they said, dismissively. “You will likely have the most to learn, as you think you are above myself and had performed that heinous magic twice. You will find my mercy and my forgiveness is not easily won.”
Asmi waved a hand and sent Cyrus back to his body. Judging from how Sorin’s face was so close to his he could feel the demon’s whiskers tickling his face, it’d been obvious that Cyrus hadn’t been in bed with him in any way beyond physical. Sorin pressed a paw to Cyrus’ chest slowly, spreading his toes and digging his claws in. Five sharp points let Cyrus know just how pisssed Sorin was.
“Alright, alright,” Cyrus muttered. “I’ll rest.”
Sorin gave a pointed sniff, but backed off, nosing the books onto the floor before Cyrus could move them himself. He draped himself across Cyrus’ body, purring deep in his chest the moment Cyrus relaxed.
Point taken.
---
Nik found himself getting summoned to Cameron’s office. He couldn’t even come get him himself, instead he had one of his toadies come and fetch him. Nik did pause, though, when he realized Cameron’s office was pitch black. “Cameron?”
“Sit.”
“Well great to see you, too,” Nik muttered, plopping down on the chair across from him. “For what have you summoned me?”
Cameron looked up in his direction, his eyes glowing animal bright in the darkness. It was so leery; NIk kept forgetting demons could do that. “I want you to go stay with your brother,” he said.
“You’re seriously kicking me out?” Nik said. “Is it because I refused to kiss Darius’ ass?”
Cameron blinked slowly at him, clearly not aware of Nik and Darius’ previous conversation. “No,” he said, mildly. “And it’s not forever. You can come back, if you want, during the weekends or for a couple of days during the week, the choice is yours.”
“Is this because of the demon lands being poisoned?”
“Yes,” Cameron said. “And since you decided to keep the fetus, and you decided to mate with me, that makes you both my responsibility, and I’m not going to let your sentimentality cause a miscarriage or stillbirth because you wanted to be near Lev.”
Nik felt heat rise in his face. “So what, because you mated with me, so my dad couldn’t take me home, you now have control of me?”
“If you want to be so frank,” Cameron said, bluntly, “we can do that. Demonic customs and all of that. However, consider it me giving you the choice to come back a few days of the week. I’d rather keep you off demonic land all together if I had my way about it.”
“And you don’t?” Nik snapped.
“If I had my way about anything, your brother would be dragging you by your ear back to his house in the next thirty minutes,” Cameron said, sharply. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be back until the fetus was well past four months old when the likelihood of an infant death was not nearly so high. If you wish to act like a petulant child, do it on your own time.”
“I am not acting like a child.”
“Yes,” Cameron said, “you are. You’re throwing hissy fits when you’re not getting your way and yelling at people for things they had nothing to do with. You are actively being a selfish little twat who refuses to not do what the hell is the right thing to do because you want to stay with Lev.”
Nik stared at him in shocked outrage. “Did you seriously call me a twat?”
“Is that all you got from that,” Cameron snapped. “So help me if I have to make the choice for you, you are not coming back to this house for the next eight months, you hear me? I will have your brother tie you to a fucking tree to make my godsdamned point.”
Nik opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. “...fine,” he said. “I’ll go. I just, I didn’t want to leave either of you, especially when you can’t follow.”
“We will be fine,” Cameron said, a shade calmer. “I’m sure Lev will facetime you or knit you some baby blanket to pass the time, or whatever it is angels do for their pregnant mates. I don’t really care as long as both of you stop pissing me off.”
Any other time the idea of Lev knitting would make him wheeze. “I’m sorry,” Nik said, leaning back into the chair, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m just- I feel like I can’t get my footing lately and all of us are spinning out.”
“Well this will be a good chance for you to get grounded then, isn’t it?”
“When am I going?” he said, defeatedly.
“Nate will be here within the hour.”
----
It was dark when Eden woke. It was dark and she did not like that. No one was there to pick her up, and she didn’t like that even more. Papi had left her again. She remembered him leaving, and then Da had put her to bed instead of the pale one later that night. That was too many alterations to what was right and she did not like it.
Not one bit.
A shrill shriek bubbled in her throat, and she banged her hands on the side of her crib the moment she pulled herself up.
No one came to pick her up, which really was unfair. Eden deserved to be picked up. She screeched again, but the house was silent other than her cries.
Filled with the determination of a child wronged by the world, Eden scrabbled her way over the side of the crib. She hit the floor with a solid thud, and almost began to cry from the shock of it all. After a few minutes of sniffling, Eden was on her way again, hooking her little fingers around the door. It took a few tries, and she got it stuck on her leg more than once, but she got it open.
One of the Big Talls stared down at her, seeming as startled to see her as she was to see them. Rather than wait to see what they’d do, Eden booked it, moving as fast as she could crawl on chubby baby legs.
Behind her, the Big Tall said something loudly, and unwelcome hands grabbed her around the waist. Eden wailed a toddler war cry and bit the nearest finger with her little fangs. That seemed to work, because very quickly she found herself on the ground, even if the Big Tall still had a grip on her, and had cushioned her fall.
---
Cameron had yet to go to bed. He was sitting it the dark in Darius’ room past midnight with a small light and his book. His head snapped up when he heard Eden’s telltale screech-crying right aside a grown demon’s screaming as well.
He quietly sat down his book, ignoring the pain pulsing behind his eye and wrapping around his head and headed for the sound in question.
He found Eden on the floor, sitting and crying and smacking the sentry’s face, perhaps to get him to stop screaming. Or maybe she just felt like hitting someone.
Cameron scooped her up off the floor and peered down at the sentry’s bleeding hand and back to Eden’s sharp little fangs. “I see your venom has come in,” he sighed. He toed the sentry’s face up in his direction. “I will make sure to add this inconvenience to your paycheck. When you get a hold of yourself, take the rest of the night off.”
With that, Cameron stepped around him and took Eden down the hall. She was sniffling and mouthing at Cameron’s shoulder. He lightly pinched her leg. “Bite me and I’ll bite back,” he warned.
She seemed intent on ignoring his threat.
Cameron opened the door of the bedroom Lev was sleeping in and flicked the lights on. “Wake up,” he said, even as Lev stirred awake.
Lev propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at them. “Eden?”
“You wanted to keep the baby,” Cameron said, irritably, tracking across the room. “Take her. Be careful, though, her venom came in.”
“Oh baby,” Lev said, reaching for her. He was sitting up by now, and once Eden was safely in his lap he started rubbing her back lightly. “She can stay in my bed tonight. Maybe she had a nightmare.”
“Maybe,” Cameron agreed, tiredly. “Just don’t roll on top of her, I guess.” He started for the doorway and flicked the lights off once more, at least giving himself some relief. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Cameron made his way back to his chair, rubbing his temples on the way. Unsurprisingly Darius was sitting up, waiting for him. He patted the bed on the side Cameron had always slept on, clearly offering him the spot.
“You should be asleep.”
Darius gave him a very long look that Cameron chose to interpret as he should be as well- and then promptly dismissed it. “I have work I need to be doing.”
A small crease formed between Darius’ brows and he patted the bed more insistently.
Cameron sighed sharply. “If I get in, will you stop being a nuisance and go to sleep?” When Darius nodded, pleased, Cameron sighed once more and began undressing slowly, doing his best to not further aggravate his headache.
He crawled into the bed and put his face in the pillow, all too aware of the coolness of Darius’ skin next to his.
tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#wip boost#original writing#ch: cameron#ch: nik#ch: the gods#ch: ash#ch: darius#hell to pay
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Don’t Let Go ~ Alfie Solomons
I’m in love with one man and one man alone. Mum and dad love Alfie too, but they still can’t take him away from me ;;;
How did she end up like this, she wondered? They were family...Even though her last name was not legally “Shelby”, she was still a part of the family since she was born. The parents were best friends, and when her parents died, Polly took her in. And then, they grew up together - Same home, same beds, same food, same clothes...Same everything.
And then, war came, and while true, she was younger than even John - Not by much, only about 3 years - But that didn’t seem to bother either of the Shelby siblings, and she was especially close with Arthur and Ada, mostly because they were the ones with the warmest hearts, and could understand her gentle one as well..
However, Tommy was the smartest of the family, and Polly taught her enough about Gypsy street-smarts, so the three of them together somehow became the true heads of the family, the true backbone that kept everyone straight and together.
When war came, she was barely 16, and yet, she joined them, dressing as a man and pretending to be a volunteer physician, healing and running around the battlefield, only to end up helping them dig up tunnels and plant explosions...
And taking a bullet for Tommy.
And nearly dying.
But at least, by the time they returned home, 4 years later, she was called an honorary Shelby and Polly officially adopted her.
She wasn’t Y/N L/N anymore, she was Y/N Shelby, and she was damn proud of that.
She helped with fixing races, rode around with her gorgeous black mare, going to the Garrison with her brothers to make sure they don’t end up drunk, in a ditch, she helped the strategy against the Lee family, got beaten up by Sabini, beat him up right back, got in that whorehouse of a Russian noble family, let the Duchess touch her while in her underwear, got beaten up by the priest, had to blow up a train with good people and many more...
But nothing was bringing her down, because she was a Shelby, and she was strong - Mentally, Physically, Emotionally - And she wanted to make sure the family was together, or at least trying to hang on, somehow.
She was the perfect woman - Never drank, never smoked, never cursed, never did drugs, never did drugs, never dated anyone...
But when one day, Thomas took her on a meeting at Alfie’s place...
Boy of boy, was that entertaining.
She always appreciated Thomas’s ambition, cunning and intelligence...But Alfie?
Alfie was something else.
Something much above him, no much smarter, so much better at scheming...And at everything, really. And she was attracted by him like moths to the light.
Back and forth talks, interesting insights on life, learning words in foreign languages that she didn’t know, but he did, and likewise, teaching her foreign stuff, talking to him about books and many other things...
And it was weird, but it almost seemed like she didn’t want to leave that place any time soon, but Thomas needed her for business, so what could she do, really?
And she agreed...And agreed...And agreed...
Until one day, when all things went completely upside down and...Sure, she did her job, and she was supposed to return to Alfie’s to have a chat with him and Tommy...
And she did...
As soon as she stepped inside the “Bakery”, she saw Ollie, whose eyes widened in shock seeing her in that state.
“Miss Shelby, what happened?! Let me call the physician-...I’ll go inform Alfie-...” Ollie stumbled over his words, only to have her grab his sleeve and pull him back.
“Don’t tell them I’m here. With the way I look, better make it a surprise. Tommy’s here, right?” she asked, slamming the doors open, walking inside, the clicks of her small heeled boots resounding all over the place.
“B-But Miss Shelby, we have to treat you - “ Y/N simply shot him a glare, before continuing in a straight line.
“Ain’t a Shelby anymore.” she muttered, and soon, she reached the middle of the wide business room, as Alfie was sitting at his desk and Tommy was pacing.
“Y/N...Finally, you’ve arrived. What happened to you?!” Thomas asked, rushing to her side, only for her to push him away.
“You lied to me, Thomas. You lied to me. You promised I wouldn’t get hurt. That you were gonna make sure they wouldn’t touch me. That I was gonna come back perfectly unharmed, not even a strand of hair touched. Only business talks. How do you think that went?” the girl looked down, her hands deep in her bloodied, yet incredibly fancy and silhouette-fitting high-waisted pants.
“What exactly happened with the Sabini meeting, Y/N? And why are you covered in blood?!” he asked, frowning.
“It’s fine, not ALL of it is MY blood, thanks for worrying, THOMAS!” but as she rasped out his name, she started coughing up some blood, and as her side started burning in pain, she lifted her already disheveled shirt, applying pressure with her hand where she got shot to keep herself from bleeding out. “Well...This one is.” she used her sleeve to wipe her face, completely non-chalant.
“Y/N...Tell me what happened...Please...” Thomas’s voice went lower, almost as a soothing whisper, but it was quickly obliterated by Y/N’s exaggerated, yet pained laugh.
“I got beaten up, raped and shot by Sabini and his men. That’s what happened, Thomas. No business talk, just abuse. You promised nothing will happen to me...But, oh, damn, remember that you told Lizzie the same too, and she, that fucker raped her at the Derby too, when you were too busy fucking around with two other women? Oh, wait...Is it because I’m a woman? Because, the way I see it, all women that you have in your life get abused somehow...By you. Grace died because of you. Ada left the city because of you. May got hurt because of you. Esme hates you...There’s also the Duchess, but she very much outsmarted you, so she’s safe and...Still a noble woman. And don’t even get me started on Polly...Poor woman...Having to endure living in the same world as you. For the amount of time you spend fucking women, one would think you’d be more considerate of them.” her beautiful eyes were sharp and hateful, throwing daggers at the man in front of her as she continued to pace around, her tongue speaking the poison that very much tainted her heart over the past many years of her life.
“...Y/N. I know you’re in pain, and that I’ve hurt you. I know. You are right, I agree. I’m aware. But it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have known, and-” as he continued, the girl calmly approached him, and as soon as she was right in front of him, she back-slapped him, thanking her classy mind for wearing lots of rings that day. As she laughed at the way the wounds showed up on one side of his face, she followed by slapping him on the other side, much harder than before.
“Shut the fuck up, Thomas Shelby. Don’t speak to me. Don’t get close to me. I am not a Shelby anymore, so you can fuck off...Do you see who you’re doing business with, Alfie? A guy who can’t even protect his family! He got all of us arrested and almost hanged, made Ada go away, made Polly go insane, had Arthur beaten up, me as well, and guess what, Michael got shot and JOHN GOT KILLED! BECAUSE OF YOU, THOMAS! Grace died because of YOU! And your child got kidnapped and almost died BECAUSE! OF! YOU!” with each sentence, she punched him, hit him, kicked him, smashed him head with her knee, then on the wall, then ended by stomping her boot on his stomach...And walked away, as calmly as if never happened. “And...This is not my blood.”
“Well, lass, gotta say, yeah, you ain’t as much of an angel as I thought, eh. Or, maybe now more than ever, you’re the angel I thought you were.” Alfie watched from behind the desk, completely relaxed, analysing the show in front of him, and yet, his brain was running a thousand miles per second, thinking of millions of things.
“D’you have a free spot here, Alfie? No guns and death and all that. Maybe...Someone to patch up your boys. I don’t know. Hell, I’ll even accept being your secretary or...Flower girl. Cook. Tea girl. I can walk Cyril...I don’t know, anything you want, just get me the hell out of this Shelby hell.” she turned around to look at him, using her other sleeve to clean her face, using the water from her tears.
“Heard that, Thomas Shelby? Your sister’s deserted you, and for a good reason, eh. You can leave now, there’s other times to do business, right.” Alfie spoke, getting up and stepping towards her.
“This isn’t over, Y/N. We’ll talk again. You’re a valuable part of the family, and you’re coming back, sooner than later.” Thomas went get get out of the building, only for the girl to quickly take out the gun from her jacket and cock it, pointing it at the man.
“Fuck off and go to hell, Thomas.” she pulled the trigger...
“Stop it, lass, don’t do it! You’re gonna regret it!” Alfie sprung out, holding one of his arms around her body, while his other hand went to her gun, making her shoot a wall instead of a living being, letting the man get out of there, still alive, somehow.
“Damn it, Alfie! Why’d you do that! It’s 2 for 0, damn it! I’m fed up with taking bullets to save that guy, while all he does is sit comfortably behind his desk, damn it! I’m not a fucking rag doll that can be tossed in the trash!” she cried, trying to struggle out of his grasp, but the wounds were hurting her too much, so her strength gave out faster and she stood limp in his arms, trembling softly.
“S’okay now, lass, yeah. I’ll bring ya to Cyril and we can...Uh...Drink that tea you like, right. Forget that guy, let’s get ya treated, right. Get that bullet out of ya. And sure, y’can be my physician, I know you were a great one in war, yeah.” the Jew gently took out the gun from her hand, throwing it to the ground for Ollie to take later, an he picked her up with much, bringing her to the medic’s room.
“I need vodka, cigarettes, and if I’m brave enough some Tokyo...Snow...Whatever you call it.” she groaned as soon as she was place on the bed, as the gangster frowned in confusion at her.
“I thought you didn’t do vices.” he sat on the opposite bed, watching her intently.
“Woaw, I lied to you and everyone else in the world. I do drink and I do smoke and I did date before...Just...Not when people were seeing me. People think you’re an angel, they will hopefully leave you the hell alone. Difficult being a woman these days, as you can see. Everybody’s treating you like a piece of garbage. And bring me that vodka, I need to have the room spinning before I take out the bullet...And vodka’s the best disinfectant. The hospital stuff is washed up and diluted a lot of times.” she gave him a sarcastic half-smile, taking the cigarette he just lit up and puffed on it.
“Only whiskey and rum, if you want, yeah. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not around here, lass. Just do what you want, nobody’s gonna say a thing, right, and if they do, you know how to use a gun, so shoot their brains, eh, show them all who’s in charge.” he got up, bringing her what she requested, watching attentively as she let her head back, poofing smoke into the air.
“Thanks, Alfie. Come back in an hour. I don’t need witnesses of my misery. You know better than everyone, Captain Solomons, that taking out a bullet gets messy.” she pointed the cigarette at him, smirking miserably at him, knowing very well that she wasn’t mentally ready for the procedure.
“Well, lass, if you’re very sure, you don’t need help, right, then I’ll be waiting outside.” the Jew patted her head, leaving the room, letting behind only a graveyard silence, that for some reason, creeped the girl out big time.
“...Let’s fuck shit up, then...” she muttered to herself, letting the ashes of the cigarette fall pitifully on the bed, as she took a deep breath and violently slammed her hand over the medical tools.
She’s always been a very careful and precise person, and whenever she did this on someone else, she would have people keep the victim down, so she could rummage through their bodies with relative ease, especially after they got shit faced drunk...And maybe with some anaesthesis...
But this is the worst. Just like back then, during the war...
Letting a few tears of anticipation fall down her face, she cut a bit deeper into her body, to allow her fingers, previously washed with alcohol, she whimpered and squealed as she searched around for the bullet - It was no easy feat for, but it had to be done, no matter the searing pain -.
It felt like time stopped completely before the extraction of the stupid lead thing, she held it in her hand, watching its taunting gleam glaring back into her eyes, then watched with horror that stupid bottle of whiskey, and with her last strength, she snatched it and putting her pillow over her face to keep the shrieking from leaving the room, and gritting her teeth, she let the alcohol pour out from the bottle, wailing loudly, and yet, hoping nobody would hear her.
She was still sobbing in the pillow, the fire-like pain, electrifying the surging, diffuse pain throughout her whole torso, and she laid there, throwing away that pillow as soon as the door was opened again, and adjusting her head, she noticed Solomons walking in the room, a basket dangling from his arms.
“What’cha got there?” she asked in a weak, whisper-like voice, still trying to recover.
“Goodies. Freshly baked cookies. At least something that smells nice in this pigstry, eh.” Alfie’s joking way of speaking seemed to take away her mind, but she smiled apologetically, lifting her hands briefly.
“Sorry, too much blood on my hands. Literally and metaphorically speaking.” she explained, only to have Alfie take out one of the cookies and feeding her.
“...This...Is the best thing I’ve eaten in my life. Did you make them? Because if you did, you’re like...A Cookie God. Have more?” she asked, managing, with a lot of difficulty, pain and his help, to get in a sitting position.
“Well, I’ve never been called a God, right, but it ain’t that bad, yeah. Here you go, one more. I’ll ask a maid to draw a bath for you, yeah, I doubt you wanna stay all bloody the whole day, eh.” he helped her eat another cookie, and weirdly enough, despite all the blood on her face, her small smile was oddly charming.
“...Y’know...If you ever want to retire from this gangster bullshit...You could settle down and...Just bake for a living...No, rather, a hobby. I’m sure you have enough money for a life time, so might as well just rest and take it easy. Move away from here...Maybe another country...Or another city, at least...And just...Y’know...Be happy. You could do that...And be rid of stupid Italians and Americans and all these jerks.” Y/N spoke, more or less not directly to him, but in a way, she was projecting her own hopes and dreams.
“Margate.” Alfie muttered, sitting down in front of her.
“Margate?” she furrowed her brows in confusion, leaning forward a bit.
“Aye. By the seaside. The sand is really soft, they say, and the waves are nice, yeah. Very calm town.” he continued, which made her gasp softly in realisation.
“You...You DID think about retirement! It means you’re really kinda fed up with this...This mess. I like where this is going.” she smiled softly at him, nodding in agreement. “I think you’re making the right choice, if it makes for anything.”
“Y’know, lass, you’re not wrong. We do need a vacation, yeah, and a very long one at that, right. Now, how ‘bout we talk about what you need, right, for this medical thing. You’re a sensible woman, yeah, so, I trust you more with the details and organising.” he pointed, and thus, they started chatting idly about the medical issues, and even more, about life in general - Books, the pictures, concerts, travelling and things...Leisure things, just simple things that she never had the privilege to talk about, and she had no idea she wanted, nor needed.
Many weeks passed and things were unusually calm for her, and for the first time in her life, she felt...Happy. She enjoyed being around Alfie, working with him without being involved in all the killing, and she absolutely loved baking things together, and he was so charismatic and charming, always giving witty remarks that amused her and made her laugh...
It was the perfect life she always dreamt of having, and he even asked if she wanted to go to a jazz pub with him, and...She got to dress up, and do her make up and do her hair, wear pretty, expensive jewellery, and a damn fine dress to show off her gorgeous silhouette, and high heels to match...And she walked next to him, her arm hooked to his, as they enjoyed the beautiful jazz music and each other’s presence.
It was a blissful dream, and she swore that if anyone dared wake her up, she was gonna kill them, and it won’t be quick, nor painless.
“Y’know, Alfie...You’re the best man I’ve ever met in my life. And that says a lot, considering how many men I had the misfortune of meeting...Including my family.” she raised her champagne glass slightly to clink with his.
“Maybe you haven’t met the right men, dear, yeah, y’know, and men in Birmingham are fucking shit anyway. Camden’s better, yeah.” the man chuckled mirthfully, leaning back on his chair.
“You...Mentioned Margate once. How are things going on with that?” Y/N asked, smiling at him softly.
“Well, lass, y’know, yeah, things are...Things are fine. But, uh...You see...The doctor said I’m sick. They aren’t really sure yet what’s wrong with me, alright, but they said the results should be given pretty soon, yeah.” he admitted after a few seconds of consideration, which made the girl gasp in shock, moving her chair to look at him better taking his hands in hers and leaning forward.
“What did they say about it? Did they take blood sampled? Wanna do blood work? Or...Biochemistry tests? Or something more complex?” Y/N bit her lip, looking concerned like never before.
“Don’t worry, lass, even if I die, yeah, I’ll still make sure you get paid for your hard work, alright?” the man tried to brush it off, but the indignant look on her face made him chuckle.
“I’m gonna kill you if you imply something like that again. I don’t need your money, I just want you to be healthy and alright, got it? Now come on, tell me, what do they suspect. Also, where is your doctor’s clinic, and when will your results arrive.” she pressed on, waiting for an answer.
“Come on, don’t be so serious, yeah, enjoy the show, it’s not every night we get to have fun, right?” Alfie, again, tried to play it off as nothing important, but the look on her face made him sigh and nod, giving in. “They think’s cancer, right. I got a tumour, they’re checking if it’s...Uh...Cancer or not. right. Doctor’s around here in Camden, results come out sometime in a week or two, that enough?” he rolled his eyes, and yet, he was grateful for her worrying.
“...I guess. If I knew, I would have done the lab work myself, but, you know...If anything, I can do the procedure myself... Or maybe I should hold your hand and make sure you’re not scared. They have to do general anaesthesia, cut you open and all that...It won’t be fun.” she looked down a bit, before smiling encouragingly at him.
“Y/N. I’m a big boy now, right, I’ll be fine, no need to worry about me, yeah, you just...You be okay, and relax, and-...And before long, we’ll go to Margate together.” he continued, trying to calm her down, without realising at first of the commitment, until he noticed the excited gleam in her eyes.
“Alfie...? Are you...Are you sure...? Margate is the place you want to go to...Why would you...Me...?” she muttered, almost unsure of how to react.
“Let’s go home, eh. I want to make you some nice tea, yeah, and some cookies. I have to tell ya something, and I’d rather it not be out.”
Alfie squeezed her hands, helping her get up, and the walk home was filled with anticipation and a comfortable silence that wanted to rip out the answers out of his throat.
He let her dress in more comfortable clothes, and so he did, then went down to prepare some nice and warm tea, with the biscuits he baked that day, and went to her room.
“Do you like me, Alfie?” she asked in a shushed voice, not daring to raise her head to look at him.
“What’s not to like, lass? You’re smart and witty, and for some reason, you find me funny, and look at ya, you’re gorgeous, right. So if I say, yeah, I want you to come to Margate with me, I mean it. You just have to agree, aye. Get away from this and rest. God knows we need this.” he had a sweet smile on his face - A smile that quickly faltered when he saw stray tears falling down her face, and he started worrying.
“Why...In the world...Would someone as amazing as you...Like me? Alfie, you’re...You’re amazing, and me, I’m...I’m the worst. I can’t let go of the past, and I’ve got like...This...This devil inside me...This Shelby devil that keeps whispering in my ear, saying that I’ll never be happy, and that I’ll...I’ll kill again, and I’ll be dragged back to that slum and...And all that happiness will just shatter and...And I don’t deserve you.” she looked down, hoping her long her would hide her face, but next thing she knows, she got brought into a tight embrace, and he stroked her hair, his chin on top of her head, waiting for her to calm down, and yet, he could feel her trembling softly.
“Don’t say things like that, yeah, that’s not true. You’re with me, not with them anymore, right, so, then, you’re going back. I won’t let them take you back, if you don’t want to, aye. No need to cry, right, I’ll protect you from anyone who dares try to take you away, eh, even if it’s Tommy Shelby himself, so no need to cry, yeah, Y/N?” he spoke, only to feel her cling even tighter to the back of his shirt.
“I...I’ve...I’ve never felt like this before, Alfie. You make me feel so warm...And safe...And happy...I’ve been hold before, but all I felt was repulsion and fright...I was panicked and I wanted to run away...But this...This never happened. And I think I love you, Alfie. Don’t let go of me, please.” her voice was barely audible, but Alfie could feel the raw emotions, so he laid down with her on the bed, holding her dearly.
“It will be fine, Y/N, okay. None of these worries will come to you again when in Margate. You and I will be happy, away from here, yeah, so, know that I love you, and let’s wait just a bit more, so we can get rid of this Changretta mess, and we’re leaving, eh.”
And it was true - From that night on, they slept in the same room, holding each other dearly, reassured that the next day, things will still be as good as the previous night.
One morning, however, Alfie woke up without her in his arms, and he panicked, thinking the worst - Poor Ollie thought he was going to get killed - But it was all fine, as she returned with the biggest grin on her face, jumping in Alfie’s arms, not allowing him the chance to say a word, only shocking him.
And she held his hands and dragged him to his room, getting him to sit on the bed, and at first, she wanted to make tea, but then she shook her head and brought a bottle of the best whiskey, poured it in the glasses and had him drink.
“Damn it, lassie, don’t fucking scare me like that, yeah, like, at least tell me in advance if you’re gonna leave, okay, I thought those fuckers got ya for good. What the hell was the urgency?” he asked, drinking the glass in one go before looking at her.
“I...Well...Haha, sorry ‘bout that, I’m just...I’m sure super happy. So, as you know, today the doctors had to mail you the test results, so, you know, I seem to have been a bit too eager to find out, so I since there were no trains, I walked all the way to your doctor, told him this and that, then got the first train back, and here I am. Oh, and, obviously, I’m super happy ‘cause like, I couldn’t keep myself - Sorry ‘bout that, by the way - So I ripped the envelope and looked at the results. And, uh, yeah, so, I’m happy ‘cause - Look ! - No cancer! You’re completely, 100% cancer free! And, like, the tumor completely benign, no invasiveness, no metastasis, so this is completely curable by surgical removal, and it won’t affect your life span, nor will it, in any way, alter your health. Et, voila, here we are! Go on, drink, cheer, be happy, I know I am!” she laughed gleefully, watching the shocked spark in Alfie’s eyes as he took out his glasses to read over the annoyingly complicated medical stuff, but he was a smart guy, and he understood everything there is to it.
“You’re the best, shiksa. You say things are gonna turn out bad, but here, look, they aren’t, and hey won’t right, ‘cause clearly, there’s something up there, alright, that’s looking out for us, and it ain’t only me making sure you’re fine. I’m happy, Y/N, and in less than a month, aye, we’re fucking away from here. Just the two of us...And Ollie as a butler, if ya want. And we can get as many dogs as you want. We can do whatever we want, really.” he hugged her tightly, cupping her face and kissing her tenderly.
It all went sweet and soft at first, and it got hotter and hotter, with much more passion than before, and one thing led to another, and their first night of overflowing love gave hope for a better future, one that will ensure their happiness and that won’t involve them in this stupid gangster war anymore.
Just him, her and Cyril, maybe Ollie too, at the side...What better life to have than this?
But just one week before they had to leave, as they were still preparing for their grand exit, Y/N was walking towards the clinic room to check on the few patients she had left, only to notice the glint of guns, and she did a turn around, looking for Alfie, and yet, Ollie stopped her in her tracks as soon as she saw her, rushing to hide her from the people who were, apparently, having a meeting with Alfie.
“Ollie, it’s an emergency. Life or death, I promise. I NEED to speak to him. Who is he having a meeting with?” she asked, holding her clipboard close to her chest, looking left and right carefully.
“With the Sabinis. Now, come on, Y/N, whatever it is, can wait. I’m sure you can wait a bit with Cyril. Please.” Ollie pleaded with her, but she only started writing rapidly on her clipboard, letting the first two pages filled with obvious, typewriter-written pages about standard medical procedures.
“I’m sorry, Ollie, but this is bigger than even Sabini. Come with me and NEVER leave Alfie alone with those sharks, got it?” she gave him a sharp look before rushing to the usual place Alfie had business meetings, and as she completely ignored the villains, she slammed the clipboard on his desk, giving him a look. “Very important medical business thing, I need your signature after you read through these.” as he was so much taller than her, she only needed to bend a bit to talk into his ear, carefully flipping the first two pages, only to reveal big, messy writing.
ENEMIES WITH GUNS
IN THE MEDICAL WARD
POINTED TO THE BOYS
DON’T TRUST THEM
Alfie gave her a look, knowing shit went bad, he nodded slightly, getting a pen and, as his signature, he wrote “TELL OLLIE”, and ushered her to leave.
And so she did, and Ollie went to alert the other guys so they could ambush the enemies in the medical ward, all while cursing herself and preparing guns, hidden in her long trench coat, then returned to stay by Alfie’s side, her hands placed on his shoulders reassuringly.
“Mr. Solomons, I see the little song bird likes flying around to every powerful gangster family. Wonder if she’ll go to the Changrettas when she’s done with you.” the Sabini leader smirked at her, and Alfie could feel her nails digging into his flesh, and not even the good way this time.
“Listen, listen, Mr. Sabini,eh. You come here, begging me for fucking favours, right, and then, you dare fucking speak ill of my partner, yeah? So, where is the fucking time where you, like, do something to make me want to do that fucking favour of yours, if the only fucking thing you make me want to do is to fucking grant you the favour of putting you out of this miserable fucking life, right?” there was no clearer indicator that Alfie was angry than when he cursed like his beard was on fire, and true, YN found it very weird, considering how sweet and gentle he’s always been with her, but she could feel the protective aura he gave off, and she never felt safer than now.
“Aye, aye, Alfie, don’t overreact, please, it was just a merely innocent joke! Lighten up, let’s discuss business. We teamed up with Luca Changretta, we can give you money and exposure. We can sell your rum and weapons all over Europe, especially France and Italy, and that means, in the long run, a ton of money. I’m sure you’ll agree with me, won’t you?” Sabini spoke, and from the corner of her eye, she could see one of the men taking out a gun from the back of his pants.
“Mr. Sabini, I will have to ask you, as Mr. Solomons’s secretary, not to take out any weapons, otherwise our men will shoot all of you, with no discrimination.” Y/N threatened in a low voice, taking her hands from Alfie’s shoulders, and crossed her arms to her chest, ready to draw her weapons at any second.
“It’s alright, Y/N, right, I don’t think Mr. Sabini is fucking stupid enough to dare a shoot out in my own fucking warehouse, eh.” Alfie warned the Italian gangster, snapping his fingers for Ollie to come by.
“Vaffanculo...Che stronza! No, fine, fine, we’re all calm, all good, right? We can have a business deal and leave this place happy, both parts, right?” Sabini spoke, using his hands to gesture everyone to calm down.
“Stick that deal up your ass.” Alfie cursed Sabini in perfect Italian, making Sabini straighten up, almost as if he got sobered by a hammer to his head, and without a second to wait, some of the lackeys drew their guns.
But they were too late, for Y/N already had both guns out and killed most of them, starting with Sabini himself, and Ollie’s boys helped up just enough to have the Red Sea at their feet.
Once all the enemies were laying dead on the cold, wet ground, Y/N sighed, throwing the guns to the ground, sighing and staring at the carnage with the eyes of a dead fish.
Alfie nodded to himself, pissed off at the mess that just had to happen, a week before they were going to sail to a better place, without either of them having to bloody their hands anymore, just like now.
“Well, Ollie’s got them all, so we’re good now. The sooner we finish the preparations, the better. Let’s hope Changretta the Bitch gets blown up...I should go check on Cyril, I’m sure he got scared by the gunshots.” Y/N sighed, patting him on the shoulder before turning on her heels to leave, and yet, Alfie motioned to Ollie to clear the mess, and then followed her back to their room, watching her cuddle with the beautiful dog.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” Alfie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching to stroke her hair, only for Cyril to reach to get his head pet instead.
“Aw, Cyril...You’re the cutest baby ever. And...I will be, Alfie. I will be. Soon...Once we leave, I will be. Until then, I’m happy spending my time with you and Cyril. It relaxes me...And it makes me happy. WE are happy.” she reached out her hand, holding his, intertwining their fingers together and leading him to lay on his side, with the dog between them, like they were a family.
“Well, darling, it’s just a few days longer, and we’re out of here, right. And we’ll be a family, like you want, and by the shore, there’re no more gunshots, right, so, we can learn how to swim, and we can mess with this slobbery bastard, and I can teach you how to bake other things. I heard the waves and the salty air help you sleep better. Ain’t that just fucking perfect, eh?” Alfie gave her a sweet smile, and laid there, with her, relaxing.
“Sounds amazing, Alfie. I can’t wait for Margate, then. Just you, and me, and Cyril...And maybe Ollie too, y’know, that guy makes the best tea, ain’t gonna lie.” she giggled, squeezing his hand lovingly.
“Aye, it’s gonna be great. And, we can travel wherever you want, whenever you want. Any country, any city, any date. You pick, we go. Sounds good?” Alfie asked, smiling tenderly at her excitement, happy that she wasn’t stuck on the previous blood bath.
“Yeah, it sounds perfect. As long as we’re together, everything is better.”
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons imagine#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders#thomas shelby#arthur shelby#john shelby#ada shelby#polly shelby#elizabeth gray#michael gray#finn shelby
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Broken Mirror: Part Three
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word Count: ~2k
Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.
Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take
“Everything will be done by Cheryl. Cheryl will gather the money packets. Only she will touch the money. Cheryl will make the drop. If she is wired or if you use a look-a-like, Patricia dies. Cheryl will get in her car. No one is to be in the car with her, no one is to follow her no air surveillance, and no car surveillance of any kind will be tolerated. I will give directions over a cell phone as Cheryl drives. She must make the drop at exactly 3:00 A.M. She will follow each instruction to the letter.”
The unsub’s message was clear, and Cheryl did just that. She packed the money into one duffel bag, making sure to fill it to the brim with every single stack. Just for good measure, Derek and Hotch were going with her to make sure that everything was in place. The unsub might not do what he says or there could be more than one person so it was smart to take the two agents.
Spencer was hooking the computer up to the GPS in Cheryl’s car so he could track it wherever it went, even if she got lost or the unsub hijacks her in any way shape or form. No matter what happens, Cheryl will be covered in every way there is. As soon as the trio left, you called Derek on his phone just to keep in contact with your teammates.
“Cheryl's car has GPS. We'll be able to track her,” Spencer said as you leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. The phone was close to his mouth so Derek heard every word he said.
“The first thing he's gonna do is have her switch cars. Where are we headed?”
“Where are they headed, Spence?” you asked.
“Let's see,” he muttered, typing on the computer until the map popped up. “An address which appears to be a rental car lot.”
“Keep an eye out and be careful please,” you told Derek right before hanging up. Sighing, you fell into the seat next to Spencer and looked at him with careful eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing, just trying to figure you out,” you muttered to yourself, but he heard you loud and clear. All you could do at this point is wait, but you couldn’t help but notice something odd. Evan’s security team was inside the house, but there was one person who keeps missing all of the action.
“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked, noticing the look on your face.
“Isn’t is kind of weird that Vincent is missing all of this? He seems to disappear right when the calls or something important is happening.”
“You’re right. Where is he?”
“That’s what we have to figure out.”
Just like you predicted, the drop didn’t go as planned. Instead of it being about the money, it was set up as a second kidnapping. Cheryl was almost taken from the car lot if it hadn't been for Derek and Hotch there. The unsub got away, and the first thing they did was bring Cheryl back to her house where she was safe. When her father heard about this, he visibly and emotionally freaked out until he could see her for himself.
“Cheryl’s alright,” Derek assured when the trio returned. Evan immediately went to his daughter who held the duffel bag of cash in his hand. It was never about the money. The phone started ringing and you knew who it was and what they had to say. Everyone headed over to the machine, and you made sure the room was silent before pressing the button.
“That was fun, wasn't it? A little running around and getting our pulses racing. Are you there, Cheryl? Are you there?! Tell me you didn't feel a slight tingle, a thrill run up your spine. Huh? But those clever and cunning FBI agents deduced my little plan just in time. They figured it out. If they hadn't, I would have had you both. The whole set. The matching pair,” the unsub laughed. Looking over at Spencer, you noticed he typed ‘collector’ since he was trying to take notes on the unsub the more he revealed about himself.
“Why are you doing this?” Cheryl blurted out.
“Because you asked me to, Cheryl. You asked me with your glances. The way you talk. Those little gestures.”
Reaching over, you pressed the mute button which only confused the young girl.
“What are you doing?”
“Do not answer this man.”
“You asked for this! You asked for it, Cheryl!” the unsub yelled. She jerked away from you and pressed the button to speak. Derek reached out for her, but she managed to evade his capture at the last minute.
“Cheryl!” Derek hissed, but covered his mouth when the call was unmuted.
“What do you want?” she screamed.
“What do I want?! You! It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but I promise you, we will be together!” he yelled back and hung up. Sighing, you scratched the back of your neck and looked at Gideon for further guidance.
“We can not let Cheryl speak with him any further.”
“Why not?”
“It's only feeding his psychosis to allow your interaction,” Spencer answered. “Was Trish involved in any serious relationships prior to the kidnapping?”
“With the boy that was killed. They were together for 2 years,” Evan answered.
“Trish didn't want me to tell you. They were getting engaged,” Cheryl sighed.
“Well, that certainly could have been the unsub's stressor,” you pointed out.
“What does that mean?” Evan asked, but nobody answered him. “Will someone please tell me what we're dealing with here?”
“De Clerambault's syndrome, otherwise known as erotomania which is the belief that someone, usually of a higher social status but not necessarily a celebrity, is in love with you. Erotomanics believe that the objects of their affection are subtly professing their love for them through looks, gestures, and glances. The unsub truly and full-heartedly believes that Cheryl and Trish are in love with him. They don't tell him this with their voices. No, with gestures and looks. He's obsessed with them.”
“What does this mean?”
“He’s the most determined kind of criminal,” you stated. “Which is the most dangerous since there isn’t anything that they won’t do.”
“Crime of obsession. Your specialty, your lead, Morgan,” Hotch said from the other side of the room. Leaving the group you were with, you approached the other one to voice your opinion on what should be done.
“I think we should recheck everyone on Davenport's staff against the profile of a stalker,” Derek said once you got there.
“No need. Just do one: Vincent. I don’t like him,” you shrugged.
“That may be, but we need to be open minded here,” Hotch dismissed.
“Aren't stalking behaviors pretty diverse?” Elle asked.
“There's overlap. Narcissistic, inflated sense of self-worth, and history of bad relationships.”
“What do we know so far?”
“He's probably white, and obviously male sophisticated speech patterns.”
“Sophisticated, yet bizarre. He rarely uses contractions. It's not ‘you're’, it's ‘you are’. He’s pretentious,” Gideon added in his two cents. “He wants to sound smarter than he actually is. Whatever position of authority or level of success this guy has, he had to struggle for it.”
“We also have to face the possibility at this point that Trish may already be dead,” Hotch whispered so that Evan couldn’t hear him.
“I don’t feel it, though. She’s close, and I can feel her fear, Hotch. She’s not dead… not yet.”
“You know, so far he's called every play. I say we apply some pressure, make him sweat,” Derek suggested.
“Well, there's only one way to do that,” Gideon smiled. As if on cue the phone started ringing, and everyone gathered around it. Gideon was the one who was in charge here, and he let it ring, and ring, and ring, and ring. Evan was getting impatient and went to answer it, but Gideon interjected him.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Gideon muttered, answering the call but hanging up right away.
“What are you doing?” Evan asked. The phone rang again, and you could sense the anger coming from the unsub through the phone. When the older agent didn’t answer, he tried again. “Agent Gideon.”
“Hello?” Gideon asked once he answered the call.
“Tell me there was a technical issue with the line because if you actually just hung up on m--”
“What the hell are you doing?” Evan screeched. Gideon hung up while the unsub was talking which would surely get him angry enough to reveal something important about himself.
“Are you gonna answer it?” Cheryl asked.
“Why is he doing this? What is he--what--you're gonna drive this guy crazy!”
“Just, quiet. Please, quiet,” Gideon whispered.
“Cheryl, he knows what he's doing,” Elle tried assuring her. The phone started ringing again, but Gideon made no move to answer it.
“Somebody has to answer it!” Cheryl shouted.
“Just answer the phone, for god's sake!” Evan yelled, reaching for the phone. Gideon was on him in seconds because it was important that he doesn’t touch the phone.
“Don't touch it!”
“He knows what he's doing!” Derek held Evan back from touching it.
“Davenport residence,” Gideon finally answered.
“Are you out of your mind? You do realize, you do understand, that I'll kill her?! Do you--”
“You're killing my daughter!” Evan cried. He didn’t understand what was going on, and you were kind of overwhelmed by the amount of emotions that were in the room. The phone started ringing once more, and Evan almost lost it. “Pick up that phone!”
“Get him quiet. Mr. Davenport, get a hold of yourself.”
“Answer the phone!”
“Quiet him!”
“Evan! Stop! Trish isn’t dead! Please, let us do our jobs!” you stated, putting yourself between Gideon and Evan. He could only whimper at this point, and Cheryl was a silent mess all on her own. However, she had Elle there to lean on in case she needed to. Gideon finally answered the phone, but the unsub was the one to speak first.
“She is dead! You hang up on me again, and I rip her open!”
“I'm sorry. You must have the wrong number,” Gideon chuckled, hanging up once more. Evan was a crying mess, but Derek helped him try to stay on his two feet.
“Come on, Gideon,” Derek sighed.
“You killed her.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what--what the hell does he think he’s doing?” Evan directed his question at you.
“I'm saving your daughter, Mr. Davenport. Have a little faith,” Gideon answered. The phone rang for the last time, and Gideon gladly answered it.
“Put Cheryl on the phone.”
“No, you're finished talking to Cheryl.”
“Listen to that tone of authority. Just like your published work, agent Gideon. Fascinating to hear the same arrogant quality in your own voice. You are a bit of a pedant, Jason, a bit didactic.”
“Well, that's a very interesting conclusion. You sound intelligent, and you certainly sound educated, but we both know that's not true.”
“Oh, I know all about all of you. The ambitious agent Hotchner? Do you wanna be director of the FBI someday, agent Hotchner? Would you step on Jason Gideon to get there? I think you would. Posttraumatic stress is a very good excuse. Even your sick, pregnant wife can't get you to leave your post.
“Jason Gideon, an expert in the criminal psyche yet unable to diagnose the autistic leanings of the very insecure Dr. Reid. Well, maybe he can make money counting cards in Las Vegas. The lovely Elle was promoted too soon. She doesn't have what it takes to make it in the B.A.U. Boys club. Let’s not forget Y/N and that gift she calls psychic when we all know it’s pure shit! She is overcompensating for something truly terrible, isn’t that right? You're no threat to me, you're no threat to anyone!
“And Token Derek Morgan wants to be taken seriously, but he is just a pumped-up side of beef. I know who you are, I know how you think and I know what to do next! Do you?” the unsub finally finished, slamming the receiver down. Everyone was in shock that he knew this much about you which could only mean one thing…
He was one of you, and you were right.
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Hi I hope you're fine! Can you make the reaction of the brothers to a Mc who managed to overtake Salomon and made 100 pacts, the 100 th being ... Diavolo himself ?! (idk if it is really possible) Thank you love on you
I don’t really know if it’s possible either but I gave it a go anyway! I love this concept tho because MC, being the powerhouse they are, now has absolute control of 100 demons one which is actual prince of hell. Idk why I find that funny tbh.
I hope you’re well too and that you enjoy reading these HCs!
————————————
The Brothers Reacting to MC who made 100 pacts:
Lucifer:
-*Surprised pikachu face*
-I’m sorry, w a t?
-Not only did an average human,with no magical capabilities whatsoever, beat a spectacular sorcerer in the span of just one year and managed to make 100 pacts before him
-But they also made a pact with Lord Diavolo as a grand finale??? (MC knows how to leave DevilDom with class holy shit)
-If you look closely enough, you can see Lucifer’s wheels spinning inside his head
-And here he thought you were going to get eaten in the first few days
-He needs to sit down for a few moments, his fucking logic has decided to take a walk
-He really went 0-0
-And on one hand, he’s totally impressed and actually very proud of their little exchange student
-But on the other hand, when tf did you have the time to make 100 pacts??
-You talked with at least 92 other demons and didn’t get murdered?
-Are all humans this hard to kill off or it just you?
-Taking aside his confusion and the way he worries like a middle aged parent, he’s actually pretty boastful about your situation
-Pride on another level, I’m telling you
- Pretty smug about it to Solomon too which is concerning because he isn’t really supposed to have favourites in the exchange program
-But he totally does
-“MC, you’re full of surprises aren’t you? You’re ability to adapt here is very impressive. Just don’t get too reckless, I don’t want you getting hurt.”
-Aw your tsundere and arrogant boyfriend actually really cares about your well being
Mammon:
-“But I’m still your first man, right?”
-Literally the first thing that leaves his mouth when he finds out
-Doesn’t matter how many pacts you make, he’s always going to insist he’s your first and therefore your best pact of them all
-He may freak out a bit at first because he doesn’t like the idea of you possibly chatting it up with other demons but he’s pretty chill
-Until you tell him about Lord Diavolo
-“Guess who just made a pact with Lord Diavolo!!”
-“Is it someone famous?”
-He’s a bit scared because the price you have to pay to be in a pact with Lord Diavolo is pretty damn high
-But if you keep insisting you will be fine, his worry will subside
-He’s a bit smug, like Lucifer, knowing you beat a powerful sorcerer in a non existent contest that he just made up in his mind
-Like “In your face Solomon, MY HUMAN got to make 100 pacts before you had the chance. Haha what a loser.”
-I feel like the brothers sometimes wish to just abandon Mammon somehowere so they don’t have to deal with this
-Dude doesn’t care how many pacts you have or with who as long as you remember ‘he was your first man.’
-Of course you of all people would be able to attain such a significant achievement
-You were his human after all
-No matter what you do, he will be even more smitten with you than before
Levi:
-“That’s cool. Will you pass me my headphones.”
-“....”
-“Wait....you did whAT?”
-You’re telling him that he barely has the courage to step outside the House of Lamentation but you can go right ahead and start making pacts with demons like it’s nothing???
-Did he just get beaten at life by a normie?? His normie even??
-He’s really panicking because the shit you’d have to deal with when making that kind of bond with Lord Diavolo is apparently very terrifying and he’s scared something bad will happen
-Pacts also mean markings on your body, so his whole jealousy thing kinda sparks here
-Because ‘it’s not fair you have all these people’s pact marks on you while mine is barely visible!”
-Even though his is like, really obvious too???
-Other than that, he just feels like you’re gaining EXP and getting stronger, like a video game character which is cool
-I want him to show up whenever MC gets in a new pact and just shout ‘Level Up!’ at the top of his lungs lmao
-He doesn’t have that much of an opinion on Solomon, besides his cooking, but he’s impressed and a bit scared that you can outdo a human like him in something as dangerous as this
-Lololololo, Solomon got wrecked by a human normie what a noob XD XD #badassnormie #solomoncanteven #gameoversorcerer
-The brothers seem pretty adamant at rubbing the salt into Solomon’s wounds, can we get an f in the chat for our white haired wizard boi
Satan:
-He knew that humans were capable of a lot of things but what the fuck?
-How is that even possible???? What is the likelyhood of a random human managing to make 100 pacts???
-He is probably the most unsettled because he relies on probability and logic to get him through his day to day life
-And that shit don’t make no fucking sense
-He’s not agitated, just very shocked
-And then he realises the potential threats you’ve been exposed to considering all the demons you’ve had a chat with
-So now he’s just thanking Lord Diavolo that you weren’t eaten alive by some lower level demon scum
-Don’t be surprised if he asks you how you went about when you started making pacts with demons
-You were always a bit of a special case and you certainly stood out from the very beginning but this was something completely different
-For a human like you, that is a very respected achievement you’ve unlocked
-Satan figures that since you made pacts with him and his brothers, you would try to do so with Lord Diavolo too
-But he actually accepted?? You just kinda gave up part of your soul to the demon prince and now you have full control over him???
-It’s amazing how easily you could make demons of all things to trust you
-He respects that and also appreciates your tactical approach to this as well
-It’d be pretty easy to summon a demon to get your ass out of danger if the need arises
-He has no idea what you do to him but it’s strange he would rather let you ramble on about the backstory of every pact you made in the past year than read his collection of books
-Wrath certainly isn’t the only thing in his heart right now
Asmo:
-#conflicted
-His partner beat his ex fuck-buddy at making a pact with Lord Diavolo
-Asmo knew you were special ever since that retreat at Lord Diavolo’s palace when you managed to summon him with such power
-But he definitely wouldn’t have guessed you would be capable of something like this
-Your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing endears him a lot
-He will probably want to see all of your pact marks now (haha you’re in danger)
-Unlike his brothers, he knew damn well why you had managed to make around 100 pacts in just one year
-Demons aren’t used to anything genuine or with good intent
-So, it makes sense they would be attracted like magnets to you and your approachable, kind nature
-After all, demons can’t deal with temptation very well
-Solomon is cunning and ominous, not that different from anyone else down there and it’s a fact the brothers don’t even trust him that much
-But Lord Diavolo?
-“MC honey you hit the jackpot! Tell me every little detail!! What happened? How did the topic of a pact come up?”
-He’s not worried about you overall
-Not because he doesn’t care but he believes that if you can survive for a year with the seven avatars of sin and also convince 93 other demons to make a pact with you, then you can handle whatever Lord Diavolo throws at you
-He probably buys a bunch of revealing clothing you can show off all of your marks because they look ‘fabulous’
-It’s the only think he’s gonna talk about for a while because how many other humans can say they have control of the prince of Hell???
-Asmo also acknowledges that Diavolo must have trusted you a lot for him to agree to this which he thinks is incredible
-He will definitely listen if you have any stories on the pacts you made because he finds them very thrilling and he loves the sound of your voice!!
-Again, he doesn’t need human souls, just a mirror, some skin products and drama to survive
-And you, if I had to guess
Beel:
-The calmest our of the seven about it
-You made a bunch of pacts? Cool, it just shows how strong and independent you are
-Which made him respect you even more to be honest
-He flinches a bit when you tell him about Lord Diavolo because he knows that the prince isn’t the type to agree to anything without being given something in return
-Even if he knows you can handle yourself, he will be right there beside you to help you out
-Also, uh, don’t tell Belphie about the pact thing Diavolo. He might blow a fuse
-You guys work out together sometimes and he is usually utterly mesmerised by all the pact marks you have on your body
-He kinda wishes you would have asked him or one of his brothers to come along with you when you made your pacts
-Just in case things went wrong
-He regrets a lot of things that had happened until now, but one thing he absolutely cherishes is the pact you made with him
-Beel is aware that his brothers think the same and if you think you can deal with the pressure of having some many demons under control, then he won’t nag you too much about being careful
-As for the Solomon thing, he doesn’t have much to say
-I mean, yeah, he is a sorcerer and you’re just a human but if you could make a pact with Lord Diavolo in such a small time frame before he even had the chance to?
-It means you’re just as special as he is
-And definitely a better cook
Belphie:
-ok maybe humans aren’t as stupid as he originally thought them to be
-Making pacts with so many demons is something that takes strength and intelligence, so props to you
-He would never admit it, but you being able to do all this shit without batting an eyelid is seriously restoring his love for humans and their culture
-might take a while tho
-He also wonders when you had the time to make so many bonds, considering he spends most of the day with you at RAD and at home
-Eh, he was probably asleep
-His view of you before the incident did a full 180 degrees
-This sort of thing in DevilDom is something worth praising, especially for an average human like you
-And ‘I guess you don’t look all that bad with so many pact marks on your body *angy boi blush* but I still like mine best!’
-It might be best not to mention the Lord Diavolo thing, otherwise his brain might snap in two
-But turns out, he seems pretty relaxed about it
-Too relaxed, I would say
-“Hey do you think you could use your pact with Lord Diavolo to do something that would tarnish his reputation and maybe embarrass Lucifer while you’re at it, idk.”
-Ah, so that’s what it was
-He’s such a mischievous, spoiled brat
-“No Belphie shush.”
-“I’m just saying-“
-Despite him hating humans way less nowadays, he still holds somewhat of a grudge against them
-Old habits die hard I suppose
-Especially for Solomon whom he never liked in the first place
-He finds it very amusing when he figures out you just beat Solomon at his life’s work in under a year
-He has a good chuckle about it but never actually brings it up in front of him
-Because he knows you’re gonna flick him over the ear for it
-Belphie is the youngest sibling and therefore the spoiled child, can’t change my mind
(Ok so poor Solomon, I kinda want to give him a hug now lol. Hope I didn’t make these too repetitive or short. Thank you for reading!)
Al~
#obey me#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me imagines#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me satan#⭐️ requests#🕯 general#☂️ demon brothers
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GIF REQUEST MEME: Favorite season from The 100 - Season four
I love season four for a lot of reasons!! I think it’s the best season of the show and it should have been their last (despite my love for most of s5 ^^) I’m gonna ramble a lot but I don’t want it to take over the gifset so I’ll put it under a cut
Season four is the time of hard, impossible choices for everybody. The bomb at Farm Station, the List, the Nightblood tests, opening the bunker, the anti-radiation medicine…. Everybody is put through the ringer during this season and honestly, this is what I’m here for.
First great point for me personally: They can’t stop the radiations. When season 3 ended with the reveal of the radiations coming, I was legit disappointed with the show, I didn’t want them to spend the season “turning off” radiations miraculously, you know. So when ep 2 of the season aired and the first thing Raven said was “there’s no magic button to stop this” I WAS SO HAPPY!! It immediately got me much more hyped for the rest of the season because I was invested in “riding out 5 years of hell” much more than “let’s find a magic button”. So the season hooked me then ^^
The season is really good at re-using previous themes and twist them in just the right way
Clarke, who was so angry at the council for killing her dad, finds herself in the council’s position, and starts to understand that making such hard decisions is never easy. Making the list for instance, is so different from what she had to do before. The genocide of Mt Weather was an act of despair in the middle of a war, but making the list is a process, she has to truly chose who is “worth” more, which is what the council did when they sent the 100 to the Ground. She choses to hide the truth from everybody despite it going against what she wanted at the start of the show. It’s a really cool change for her character.
The Arkers and Grounders take the decision to test the Nightblood against Luna, the Rock Line thief, and Emori’s will. An obvious reminder of s2 but that I appreciate. I liked the Mt Weather story because of this: the mountain men were the antagonists but they also were the same as the rest of the show, they were doing whatever they had to do to survive, whatever it took, no matter how cruel it could be. We see in this season that when faced with the same decision, our protagonists reach the same result: sacrificing other people’s bodily autonomy to survive is worth it to them. It’s a really interesting theme to bring back because it muddies the waters of who’s right and wrong, and it highlights that in the end, there is no black and white answer.
This season gives us my personal favorite version of Clarke: she’s the closest she’ll get to a true antagonist (only comparable to s5 but s5 is a little bit of a mess so I still prefer her in s4). She has one conviction: saving her people. And to get it, she is ready to lie, to cheat, to kill, whatever it takes. It is interesting because I always saw Clarke in that light. She always believes that she has the right idea and she will do what it takes to get what she thinks is best. That’s where she is interesting to me (I’m not interested in her being an innocent victim forced to take decisions, that’s not how I see her at all and I find her a little dull in that interpretation haha but that’s for another post). Clarke stealing the bunker is a cruel act, but man, it’s incredibly smart. At that moment she knows she’s condeming many people (some of whom very close to her) to death, but she believes deep inside her that it’s the right thing to do so she’s willing to do it. And i really prefer her in those ruthless moments.
Octavia’s arc this season isn’t my favorite, but she is at her best during the last few episodes for me. The creation of Wonkru is one of my favorite scenes of the entire show, even though I saw it coming a mile away lmao (1200 spaces, 12 clans, it was easy to see where they were going!). I love the scene, I love the place it comes from (Octavia channeling Lincoln’s convictions was brilliant). I might not agree with her decisions (skaikru definitely deserved more spots than the other clans), but it makes perfect sense for her character to make this decision. The scene of her talking to Skaikru and telling them they’re no different from the others, and they have to choose or they all die, is also one of my favorites. Octavia received no mercy on the Ark, she had a terribly tragic childhood because of those people who are now begging her for their lives, and she doesn’t budge. The Ark, and the Ground, forced her to be that way, and she doesn’t back away. It’s also all a brilliant introduction to what Wonkru and Octavia will become in s5 (but again, that’s for another post lmao)
I love that we get the introduction of Spacekru because I love their little found family and the scene where they reach the Ring is so good!
Murphy’s speech to Clarke makes me tear up everytime I see it (it really was one of the strongest moments of acting of the entire show, Richard Harmon is amazing in it). Emori also blows me away in the previous episode, the way she’s shown to be ruthless, and cunning, and also how well she reads people. She knew they would come to test someone, and she did everything she had to for that someone to not be her. I love her ^^
I like the plot of the second dawn bunker well enough! (although I will never change my mind that Cadogan was a dumbass for putting it where it is instead of IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST WHERE THERE’S NO RISK OF BUILDINGS FALLING ON IT LIKE WHAT LITERALLY HAPPENED IN S5 OKAY anyway…..), it’s far from perfect but I like that it explains the people coming to greet Becca in s3, and I like that we expand a little on the origins of the Grounders culture (even though I wanted more about this). It’s kind of an “easy” solution, but at the same time it’s not. It was established early in the season before being abandoned, and even once it’s found, it’s not at all a perfect and easy solution. They have to fight for it, decide who lives there, it’s a pretty interesting development. What I mean is that it’s not discovered one episode before the end and it doesn’t solve everything. If anything, it creates more conflict. Which I appreciate alot.
ALSO ALSO Echo is a badass general in this season and I love it. She goes from being a spy in earlier seasons, to full-on commanding armies and being a strategic mastermind and I love it! She’s also ruthless and cunning and I lvoe that for her. It’s also such a good season for her and Bellamy!!! I lvoe all of it ^^
This season also has one of my favorite underrated quotes!!!! I’m gonna use a gif here cause I’m not at the limit yet lmao
“It’s unity day.” GODDDD it’s so good. It’s simple, but it conveys so much information and I love it:
Unity Day: the stations coming together to survive -> we’re virtually in the same situation here.
It’s a happy occasion, a day of survival and hope, just like the hope Octavia gave all the clans with her decisions
But it’s also a day of death and loss. She’s giving Kane a choice: join Wonkru with 100 members, or die in the flames.
It reminds us of the history of the Arkers, and I love when world-building does this thing where both characters are shown to have such a close cultural background that three little words are enough to convey such a strong message. It’s a detail but I love it and I wanted to ramble for a little bit ^^
Clarke’s sacrifice: This is when it gets to “meh” points for the seasons for me. Clarke deciding to stay behind to save Spacekru was a good moment. Yes, I know that if she hadn’t climbed the tower they all would have died anyway, but still. It’s a great moment for her character. She has hurt those people time and time again during this season, she was ready to let them die more than once, and I think she regrets it (although again, I like to see the extremes she’s willing to reach in this season). In that moment, she doesn’t decide that it’s too late to survive so she might as well give up. She knows she’s going to die, and she gives her last moments to save the lives of the people she hurt in the past. And I really love this. That is….. Until Clarke is revealed to not have died. I truly believe that she had reached the ending of her arc in the show, and it would have been a great ending to her character. But that’s also because I believe the show should have ended in s4 lmao. If it had ended, then maybe they could have left her death ambiguois, by showing her reaching the safety of the lab, but not showing her again afterwards. That way, we had no way of being sure she survived, but it was left ambiguous enough to make us decide her fate outselves.
The perfect ending: I didn’t choose the last gif randomly. That scene of Raven and Bellamy looking down on the Earth was in my opinion the perfect shot to end the show. At that point in time, we are left in a place that is very similar to where the show started: the Earth is destroyed by radiations, some people are waiting it out in space, some people are waiting it out on the ground. it mirrors the premise of the show (although in a much smaller scale), but this time, we’re left with hope of what might come in the future. Those two groups know (or hope) that they will reunite, especially with Octavia and Bellamy, the relationship at the core of the show, being separated. If the show ends here, we have come full circle from the pilot episode, and we can imagine how those two groups will reunite in the future. I find that ending the best possible for the show, so even though there’s so much I like about season 5, I wish the show had stopped at that moment, at that shot of Raven and Bellamy looking down on the Earth.
That got reaaaaally long, so…. sorry about that xD If you’ve reached this far, feel free to tell me what you think of this season (or the others haha) or send me asks, or request for other gifsets!!!
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