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wonda-cat · 3 years

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Misconceptions About Tommyinnit’s Character That Genuinely INFURIATE Me

Since the recent events following the second L’Manburg Festival and subsequent war, I’ve seen many, many hot takes surrounding the nature of Tommyinnit’s character on the SMP. Some of which annoyed me to the point where I felt compelled to sit down and actually write this. I’m going to only be highlighting the most common complaints or questions I’ve seen, one by one, in hopes of providing a better understanding of Tommy’s character for anyone interested. (I also briefly discuss Techno and Tubbo’s characters as well.)

If you’ve said similar things to what I’m going to be discussing below, please know that it’s perfectly understandable how you’d come to these conclusions. Some of these aspects of Tommy’s character are not always obvious; especially if being watched from another streamer’s POV. This may become quite lengthy, so bear with me for now.

“Tommy’s motives are all over the place. He can’t decide whether he wants the discs back or not.”

Tommy is actually one of the most motivationally consistent characters on the entire Dream SMP. Even Techno, someone completely confident in their ideals, does more motivational flipping than Tommy. From the very start of the story, Tommy has always cared for three things; L’Manburg, Tubbo, and his music discs. However, him caring for something is not itself a motivation.

Surprisingly enough, his motivation isn’t even just, ‘Get my discs back,’ like many assume it is. Tommy’s one true motivation, since the end of the Independence War, has always been, ‘Keep things the way they are now.’

Tommy’s one fatal flaw is that he is resistant to change and refuses to let go of the past. This is seen through all of his actions and words; in all conflicts involving him. This flaw is the drive to all of Tommy’s mistakes. Burning down George’s house, an action which resulted in him getting exiled, was done out of a desire to pull pranks the way he used to before the first war. His friendship with Ranboo started because Tommy said he reminded him of Tubbo, back before he was President.

Tommy still talks highly of Wilbur because he chooses to remember him as the wise, kind mentor who cared for him. This motive is the reason he defends L’Manburg so fiercely; it’s his memory of a better past. This is why he holds grudges more often than any other character; especially refusing to forgive Techno after he killed Tubbo during the Manburg Massacre.

It’s why Tommy falls under extreme distress whenever Tubbo or Quackity tell him that something will never be the same again. This motivation is entirely formed from an underlying desire for peace and comfort, something Tommy has been denied since being forced into a life wrought with war and death. To accept change, to Tommy, is painful and terrifying. But he will only ever truly be happy when he finally learns to let go.

“Why do the discs matter so much to Tommy? They’re not actually worth anything.”

Tommy’s discs are much more than just any ordinary pair of music discs. They were never important for their material worth, but for what Tommy was willing to sacrifice in order to keep them. Tommy is entirely what gives the discs their value.

Tommy also commonly operates under the Sunk-Cost Fallacy, wherein he’s invested too much of himself into something to just abandon it, even if it’s causing him problems. This mentality is a huge piece of what keeps him tied to both L’Manburg and to his discs. He’s sacrificed too much at this point to simply let them go. If he admits the discs are worthless, then he’s admitting that he wasted all this time and effort, just to keep them.

The discs also act as a constant source of hope for Tommy because they are directly tied with his motivations as a character. They’re something he’s had since the very beginning. They’re something he used to listen to with Tubbo on their shared bench.

To Tommy, they symbolize a life before war, filled with comfort and peace. They are a love letter to his country and his late mentor Wilbur. They are a physical representation of Tubbo’s companionship. They are the only thing, besides L’Manburg and his best friend, that gives him the hope that he can one day return things to the way they used to be.

This ideal, paired with Tommy’s refusal to let go, has left him ruthlessly pursuing the things he’s lost. Not his music discs, but his peace and comfort, his friendship, his country, his mentor Wilbur, and his life before war.

In his desperation to hold onto his prized possession, it has only hurt and pushed away the people that love him. If Tommy continues to ignore this reality, while still refusing to resolve his major flaw entwined with it, he will lose all that the discs had once stood for. He will lose his country, then his friend Tubbo, and then he will lose himself.

“Tommy never grows or learns from his mistakes. This makes him a badly written character.”

Characters do not have to constantly learn from their actions to be well-written. Tommy is one of the best examples of this. The fact that his growth is infrequent is the entire point of his character; it’s completely stemmed from his fatal flaw.

By addressing himself, he would be accepting change, something that terrifies him; something he stubbornly resists until he is absolutely forced to confront it. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy knows when he makes mistakes, but he pretends to be ignorant as to avoid facing reality. He digs his head in the sand despite knowing better, puppeteering the person he used to be during happier times, now gone.

In spite of his infrequent growth, the idea that Tommy still hasn’t learned anything isn’t quite correct either. Tommy, as of the last three plot streams, has shown incredible character development. By giving up his discs again, he had finally demonstrated that Tubbo is more important to him than his possessions. Speaking as a makeshift leader, he put aside his issues with others to rally them together against a common threat, something which Tommy had never been able to do before. He owned up to all of his mistakes openly, apologizing to everyone he’s ever hurt in one place.

He apologized to Tubbo after they were reunited and came to terms with the fact that Tubbo was forced to exile him without choice, finally forgiving him. He was kind to Sapnap and learned how to be his friend after months of bitter rivalry. And these are only a few examples. This isn’t to say Tommy has overcome/fixed everything because he clearly hasn’t. There are still major things Tommy needs to work through that remain unaddressed, the biggest being his complicated relationship with Technoblade.

“Tommy only cares about himself. He does everything in his power to be the hero, always putting himself in the center of attention, especially during Doomsday.”

Tommy, since the start of the L’Manburg War for Independence, has never set out to be a hero. Not once. He may fall into the role of the protagonist, but his identity as a hero was pushed onto him by others. Giving up the discs was his only option during the Independence War.

So when Wilbur called him a hero for it, Tommy said he didn’t feel like he was. During the November 16th War, Tommy again said he didn’t feel like a hero because he had lost what he thought was everything at the time. During exile, Tommy certainly knew he was no hero. And upon reuniting with Tubbo, he admitted to feeling like the farthest thing from it. That he’d hurt everyone and all he wanted to do now was fix it.

The day before Doomsday, Tommy only took a leadership position because no one else was willing to, filling the role for Tubbo, who was crumbling under pressure. He had no choice but to try to bring everyone together, or fight alone. Most viewers never saw this during Doomsday, but before the battle, almost everyone who had vowed to fight alongside L’Manburg had abandoned them the very next day. They were convinced it was going to be destroyed either way, no matter what they did, so they chose not to see it through to the end; ultimately leaving Tommy and those who remained to fight a losing battle, alone.

After about a third of the way through the battle, it became clear to everyone that they could do nothing to win. One by one, everyone stopped fighting and stood by to watch their country go up in smoke. Tommy was the only person on the battlefield who refused to stand down and give up. And so he took over the role as leader again, trying his best to keep them alive, to keep Tubbo hopeful; to keep fighting, no matter what.

However, what most people don’t realize, is that this isn’t Tommy trying to be a hero or force himself into the spotlight. This is Tommy trying to convince himself to keep going. Because whenever things start to look hopeless, Tommy simply chooses to ignore them. He puts on a happy face and soldiers through it because that’s all he knows how to do. Tommy, at his core, is someone who wants peace through stagnation. He doesn’t want to fight, although causing the occasional friendly conflict is how he finds fun. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt others.

Tommy may come across as self-centered, but this is because he is an extremely extroverted character. He finds energy and joy in the attention of others, both good and bad. It’s why he’s always seeking the approval of others and, oftentimes, will destructively insert himself into another person’s life in order to find it.

Out of every character in the story, Tommy is the most drawn to praise and positive reinforcement. He is constantly seeking out mentors and friends because Tommy needs someone else to help him feel confident in his own identity and abilities. It’s why Wilbur was such a positive influence on him. His boisterous confidence has always been a front because if anyone were to actually hurt him, he knows it will make his self-esteem crumble instantly.

This is part of why Dream’s manipulation was so effective against him. By isolating him, he’s left without energy and looking to another person’s guidance. Tommy outwardly may seem independent and rude, but just under the skin, he’s unconfident and lost when he’s by himself. Tommy will only grow from this flaw when he finds his own identity and inner confidence; when he finally learns to be okay with being alone.

“Tommy goes to the festival solely to get his disc back and then tells Tubbo to give it away immediately after. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Before the screaming match between the two friends during the second L’Manburg Festival, Tommy had been in exile, manipulated by Dream for long enough to lose his will to carry on. It is because of him that Tommy’s reality becomes distorted, long after fleeing from his abuser. This mangling of ideals leads Tommy to subconsciously believe that L’Manburg and Tubbo are unsalvageable.

Therefore, the only thing he has hopes of retrieving are his discs, which are easier to manage than the latter two things. And so Tommy does reprehensible things at the behest of Techno in a vain hope of getting them back, going so far as to kidnap and torture for them. This ultimately culminates in a confrontation between the ex-friends, quickly turning violent. It is in this violence that we see Tommy has sunk to his absolute lowest point in his journey.

Swinging his axe, he nearly kills his friend as he delivers a string of words that cause the room to silence instantly. He says the discs were always worth more than his friend. Within the quiet of the room, Tommy is forced to reflect on everything he’s done. How he kidnapped and tortured Connor. How he accidentally drowned Fundy. How he traumatized Ranboo.

And now he’s hurt Tubbo, the one person he has always sought to protect; someone he vowed to never hurt. This realization causes Tommy to break. He’s so ashamed of himself that he can’t look at anyone. Tommy knows now that he is worse than anyone he’s ever hated.

With pain in his voice, he tries and fails to apologize to Tubbo in the moment. The only way he knows to redeem himself now is to prove to Tubbo, after everything, that he can still put the discs aside. And so he does.

“The fact that Tommy is still trying to get his discs back after L’Manburg was destroyed is unreasonable and ridiculous.”

Tommy deals with grief in an interesting way, doing something very similar to Techno. His grief almost instantly becomes anger and a drive to prove himself. It morphs into a need for vengeance in response to injustice, always.

After the destruction of L’Manburg, Tommy saying he wants the discs back is a double-sided motivator. The obvious side being: Tommy still needs them to feel comfort. The subtle side beneath it: Tommy is using them as an excuse to find Dream and kill him. To make him pay for helping destroy their home, hurting his friends, and abusing him in exile.

Upon the loss of his home, I’d also argue the discs have only grown more important to Tommy in the aftermath. Typically, in grief, people hold onto things that survive devastation far more than if the tragic event never occurred. If your eldest child dies, one may hold their surviving children tighter. If your house burns down, one may deeply treasure a box of items that survived the flames. Tommy’s desperation after losing so much is entirely understandable.

On top of this, the discs are still the core to Tommy’s fatal flaw. They are what keeps him from achieving total happiness, so him getting over this intrinsic part of himself so easily would make for an unsatisfying character arc. He still has to work for his happiness in order to change for the better.

To add, I’ve seen a lot of people complaining that Tommy is still prioritizing the discs over Tubbo, especially in that moment. And while I mostly agree, there are some interactions that stand out to me as being different between the pair that may imply otherwise. Tommy says a few times that despite L’Manburg being destroyed, he still has something left to lose; each time, turning to look at Tubbo.

This subtly implies that losing Tubbo would be as devastating as losing his home. Tubbo also never voices disagreement over Tommy’s continued pursuit of the item. However, Tubbo frequently does what he thinks will make others happy, so this doesn’t implicitly mean support for Tommy either. Besides these two things, this is still Tommy’s fatal flaw shining through, continuing to hurt others around him.

I only hope Tubbo can learn to stand up for himself and voice his real thoughts to Tommy now, after everything. It would provide at least some desperately-needed closure for Tubbo’s character.

“How could Tommy betray Techno like that? Techno told him upfront what he was going to do.”

While it’s true that Techno was obvious about his plans, Tommy was also just as upfront with Techno about what he thought of it. In fact, maybe even more so, considering Techno attempted to hide them from Tommy for a good portion of their partnership. Whenever Techno brought up the idea of destroying L’Manburg or hurting Tubbo, Tommy would always remind Techno that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. And that if Techno ever did, Tommy would be there to stand in his way. He never once stopped saying this.

Tommy’s two major positive character traits have always been his undying loyalty and his strength to never give up, even in the face of death. Two classically heroic qualities, both of which, ironically, reinforce his fatal flaw. His refusal to change makes him stubborn; stubbornness being the only quality that makes unwavering loyalty and extreme persistence feasible.

Because of these two traits, it was impossible from the start for Dream to completely break Tommy’s spirit and for Techno to get him to agree to anything too extreme. Despite this, Techno already had no hope of keeping Tommy on his side after the events of the day before the Festival. During it, Tommy had asked multiple times for Techno to give his word not to hurt anyone. That they’d only threaten to spawn a wither, get Techno’s remaining weapons in exchange, then leave. That’s it.

Techno avoided directly promising Tommy but still agreed not to regardless. So when Techno chose to spawn the wither anyway, despite Tommy urging them to leave multiple times, whatever trust Tommy had with him went completely out the window. Thus, when the threat was finally real, that Techno would make due on his promise to burn his home country to the ground and slaughter his friends, Tommy intervened. It would be unreasonable to expect Tommy not to stand against him in that moment, especially after his mental breakdown which ensued as a result of him nearly killing his best friend.

Adding salt to the wound on Tommy’s end, Techno decided to also align himself with Dream, someone Techno knew Tommy was afraid of. This might have been a way to purposely hurt Tommy. More likely, it was because Dream and him shared a common goal in the moment and Techno desperately needed allies.

However, the implication of Techno siding with Tommy’s abuser most certainly hurt him, regardless of its original intentions. This is possibly why Tommy kept insisting through Doomsday that Techno betrayed him, avoiding actually telling anyone the reason as to why. If he couldn’t find the words to describe what Dream did to him, even to Tubbo, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Techno either.

“Techno gave Tommy everything, only to be repaid with betrayal.”

This statement regarding Tommy is the one I see most often. (It is also the one I get the most heated about.)

Dream’s character is well known for his manipulation tactics against other characters; pitting them against each other, crushing them under his heel, bending their will to conform to his own. It’s what makes him an interesting villain. It’s something fun to discuss.

But is it still fun to discuss manipulation tactics if they’re so subtle, almost no one notices them? This is the paradigm Technoblade’s character falls into. While people know Techno for his laid-back personality, dry humor, and complex motivations, many fail to recognize him as a manipulator. The reason why this is so hard to spot is because it is mostly unintentional on behalf of the character. Dream performs his craft with intention, Techno does it without realizing.

As well as this being unwitting, it is sandwiched between Techno’s actual attempts to connect with Tommy and care for him. Thus, making the manipulation feel less damaging. The only problem is, this still hurts Tommy just as much, regardless of the intentions behind it. Especially after just escaping Dream, Tommy’s reality and sense of identity are horribly distorted. In this vulnerable state, he desperately needs healing and someone to help ground him. This is what makes him even more susceptible to Techno’s influence.

And because it is much subtler, it is harder to notice, and much harder to break free from. Despite Tommy claiming to hate Techno for what he did on November 16th, he still chose to flee to his house because it was the only place he could think of going, as well as being the safest area possible. After the failed execution, Techno mentioned potentially hurting Tubbo through a vengeance plot. Tommy voiced extreme distress over this, to which Techno threatened to kick him out of his house.

Tommy then says he’s fine being homeless because he doesn’t want anything to do with someone who would hurt his friend. This is when Techno decides to weaponize Tommy’s own trauma against him. To be fair to Techno again, Tommy never told him the extent of the abuse he suffered in exile. But Techno isn’t stupid. He knows Tommy is extremely afraid of Dream, and for good reason.

So he tells Tommy that if he were kicked out, he’d be defenseless. That if he were out there all alone, Dream would find him very easily. That Dream would drag him right back to Logstedshire in an instant. He notices the way Tommy reacts to this, how quickly he changes his mind about being kicked out. He continues to use this trauma repeatedly in order to keep Tommy under his roof, no matter how disagreeable he gets about Techno’s plans. He knows he can’t retrieve his weapons alone because he has no leverage.

Therefore, using Tommy like a wild card was a major side strategy. Techno knows it will hurt Tubbo by doing this and may make the President more willing to compromise. In addition to this, many of the strategies Techno utilizes are Narcissistic manipulation tactics, categorized by their intent to keep the victim in a position below the abuser in terms of worth. This includes Techno using the silent treatment as a punishment, something which hurts Tommy since he craves affection from others.

He also attempts to isolate Tommy by telling him he doesn’t need anyone else; that everyone abandoned him during exile (something which Dream has also said.) He tells Tommy that he’s only alive because Techno is there to defend him and supply for him, as well as constantly reminding Tommy to not let any compliments he receives get to his head. These are both meant to make Tommy depend more on Techno and doubt his own abilities. Techno also occasionally engages in subtle gaslighting, attempting to sow doubt in Tommy’s mind about his relationships with Tubbo, Quackity, Ranboo, and Fundy.

It’s also vital to keep in mind what exactly separates Dream and Techno in this regard. The most important thing being that Techno actually does care about Tommy. He trusts him and wants to earnestly help him. He knows Tommy has been traumatized and abused in some way, but he doesn’t know how to help because he’s not that great with people. It also doesn’t help that Tommy is unable to tell anyone what happened.

In the end, Techno really does want to be a shield for Tommy. Despite debating handing Tommy over to Dream, it’s more likely Techno was using this as bait for Dream to waste his favor on something useless. After all, he could always save Tommy, should he ask for him to. Techno’s warnings about Tubbo and L’Manburg also come from a place of love, as Techno was personally hurt by them and wants to protect Tommy by telling him to leave it behind. However, just because something is done out of love, doesn’t mean it’s automatically helpful or good for someone.

There’s no better example of this than in Techno’s most damaging and frequently used tactic: ‘Buy Their Love,’ a technique commonly used on children by narcissistic parents. At first glance, nothing seems wrong. Techno gives Tommy most things he asks for; providing him with food, gifts, protection, and a place to sleep. The manipulation within this arises when the act of kindness is counted as a debt against the person who receives it. That by receiving so many good things, they would be ungrateful to go against their abuser. Doesn’t matter if they emotionally or physically hurt you, they gave you gifts, so you should shut your mouth and allow the abuse to continue.

Whenever Tommy speaks out against Techno’s violent actions or his plans to hurt his friends, Techno would frequently bring up all his ‘good deeds.’ He consistently reminds Tommy that he could’ve just thrown him back to Dream, but he was too kind. That he went out of his way to give him gear, food, and a roof over his head. That he was kind so Tommy should be quiet and let Techno plot to hurt the people he loves. Or else he’s selfish and ungrateful. Or else Techno will take all of his gifts back and leave him with nothing.

Knowing this, it is horrifying seeing people justifying this behavior by mocking Tommy’s character and calling him ungrateful using this very same fallacy. (Especially for those who grew up being controlled by this very tactic.)

It is through knowing Techno’s use of the ‘Buy Their Love,’ method that makes Tommy’s, ‘I am worthy,’ response, not one of betrayal, but one of triumph. This moment is a major positive character change for Tommy for many reasons. When Tommy decides to stand against Techno, this causes him to fall back on his most reliable tactic. He insults Tommy and then asks for the Axe of Peace back. Instead of caving, Tommy refuses.

By keeping the Axe of Peace, Techno’s final gift to him, he is not only rejecting the destruction of all he loves, but he is breaking free from Techno’s manipulation. He says, ‘I am worthy,’ because now he knows his own self-worth. He doesn’t need Techno or Dream to decide it for him. This moment is Tommy finally breaking free from not just Techno, but Dream as well. He is finally free.

“Tommy was only using Techno and never thought of him as a friend.”

Tommy and Techno’s relationship is complicated, which is why pretending only one side was in the wrong isn’t entirely accurate. Their friendship, in summary, is tragic when fully examined; being doomed from the start. Techno and Tommy are brought into conflict often because they are simultaneously so similar and so different. Techno and Tommy both deal with grief in the same way. They both long for a life of peace and comfort. They each long for companionship, hold their ideals in kind, and are both naturally resilient in the face of adversity.

Yet, their personalities and courses of action are polar opposites. What makes this friendship one of tragedy is the fact that not just Techno, not just Tommy, but both of them, actually thought the other was their friend. They had each wanted to be the other’s friend since the day they’d met. Tommy never stopped wanting to impress Techno and get on his good side, even if his methods annoyed the target of his affections. Him calling Techno ‘The Blade’ was never meant to dehumanize him; it was a title of adoration.

Along the same spectrum, Techno is a character who generally longs for friendship, but pretends not to after a lifetime of hurt. He’s been burned too many times, and so he chooses to stay alone. Techno is generally very reclusive and awkward around others, so when he likes someone or cares for them, it’s noticeable from a mile away. Their friendship has a very brotherly dynamic, and the fact that Techno allowed him to stay in his house, implies Tommy is a step above pretty much everyone else but Phil. Putting up with Tommy’s shenanigans is itself a sign of affection.

However, when their goals come into conflict and the two start to drift apart, they deal with this in massively different ways. With Tommy devastated and enraged, and with Techno withdrawn and hurt, once more burned by someone he slowly learned to trust. They were once both friends, neither one was pretending. Yet, both of them thought their companionship was unreciprocated.

On top of this, both Techno and Tommy were using each other. Techno used Tommy to get his weapons back by manipulating and lying to him. Tommy used Techno to protect him from Dream and get his discs back. They each hurt the other and refused to listen, both shouting valid complaints at the other that they refused to hear.

Their relationship is also deeply affected by the themes of vengeance in the current arc, which is something I haven’t seen many people talk about. Most of the current conflicts this past month have resulted from characters being unable to forgive, resorting to revenge as a way to cope with loss. L’Manburg was the first to initiate this, through the influence of Quackity. The Butcher Army was formed to punish Techno for a war crime he committed. And while this is perfectly reasonable, what isn’t is the way the incident was orchestrated. It was an unchecked abuse of power to execute someone without a fair trial, as well as punishing Phil, who was not involved whatsoever.

This was also particularly unfair to Techno, as many projected their anger at Wilbur onto him. Even Tommy did this, finding himself unable to blame his late mentor, so Techno was the next best option for him. However, it was Techno’s response to this that was interesting. He chose a path of vengeance, the same way L’Manburg did, after vowing to live his life as a pacifist. By doing this and following through, he hurt everyone, not just the people he claimed needed to pay for their actions.

Instead of just picking the weed in the garden, he set the entire flower bed on fire. Through L’Manburg’s destruction, he gets what he wants. He destroys their government, but he also scars the earth and shatters the sky. He leaves uninvolved people homeless, deeply hurting Ranboo, Eret, and especially Ghostbur. Philza turns to vengeance as well, taking his anger at the death of his son out on people who do not deserve it.

Tubbo, a day before the second Festival, was given another chance to seek revenge when Techno had spawned a wither on their land. Instead, all Tubbo could say was, ‘We do nothing … It’s pointless, vengeance. It’s poisonous.’ By doing this, he has managed to be a bigger person than even Techno was, with the strength and maturity to turn the other cheek. And now with Tommy’s plan to kill Dream, the conflict continues to escalate; only ending where forgiveness begins.

It’s sad to think, if Techno didn’t choose a path of vengeance and Tommy was strong enough to tell Techno how he really felt, the two might have remained friends. Who knows? Maybe they still can.

“Tommy was the one in the wrong. Techno was right to destroy L’Manburg.”

Techno is a lovely character. He’s well-written, engaging, funny. He has many values and quirks that are generally relatable and interesting. His motives are deeply understandable and sympathetic. And yet, he is perfectly capable of being evil, in just the same way that Tommy can be deeply flawed despite being the protagonist.

I’m sure most people already know that Technoblade is a villain. Or more accurately, a tragic antagonist. Techno (the streamer) knows he is and he’s having fun playing that part. Just because a character is morally in the wrong doesn’t mean their values and ideology don’t have merit. The best character I could compare Techno to is Thanos.

They have completely valid concerns and points, but it is the way in which they go about achieving their goals that makes them into evil people. And despite this, many will still agree with them, even after they do something reprehensible. Contrary to popular belief, Technoblade’s tendency towards violence isn’t a good thing, no matter how you look at it. Even Techno himself knows this, that’s why he decided to reform and become a pacifist with Phil. He was not a good influence on Tommy, on top of also manipulating him.

Techno caving to hatred and vengeance makes him no different to the resolve of the Butcher Army that pursued him. It is precisely the fact that he went on to destroy the home of not just Tommy, but also Ranboo and Ghostbur, that puts him in the wrong. He is allowed to despise all government and remove himself from it, but the moment he decided to insert himself into someone else’s country and take their home from them in order to destroy it, he abandoned an integral principle to his own values.

This principle being: ‘Choice.’ The act of letting others be free to decide what they want for themselves. It is a huge component to the concept of anarchy, the freedom to choose. And yet Techno robbed this from, not just the ruling powers that hurt him, but individuals who were not even involved in the first place. He justifies this by saying it’s for their own good, that he’s helping; while acting in a self-serving manner.

In his anger, he became the punisher, stooping lower than L’Manburg has ever gone. There is also the issue of Dream weaponizing Techno to destroy the one thing that has been a thorn in his side since the very start, manipulating Techno’s grief to achieve his goals. Tommy’s biggest sin in the Doomsday War was standing up to Techno and getting in the way of him hurting his friends and destroying his home.

This isn’t to say Tommy is perfect, because he still hurt everyone he ever loved. But the only way he knew to redeem himself was to fight for what he knew was right. And so he chose to fight alongside his best friend, Tubbo. However, just because Techno is in the wrong doesn’t mean others are wrong for wanting to side with him, or by finding joy in his ruthlessness. The biggest appeal of Techno is the fact that he opposes people like Tommy.

He knows how to put people in their place and it’s satisfying to watch. Some people love rooting for villains and it’s entertaining to see a being with so much power crush everyone else down so effortlessly. Especially because it’s so easy to sympathize with Technoblade. Sympathetic villains are the best kind; where they have understandable motivations, relatable flaws, people they love, and something they can lose. Dream is a villain you love to hate. Technoblade is a villain you hate to love. Simple as.

Despite the destruction of L’Manburg being either devastating or fantastic depending on who you are, there is one major good it has done. It has pushed Tommy more towards the completion of his character arc. By losing one of the three things he loves, it will be impossible for him to pretend any longer. He will be forced to confront reality very soon. It all depends on whether Tubbo will have to die first for him to finally see it.

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angelarmitage98 · 3 years

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Harry Potter preferences...

How he asks you to be his girlfriend:

Harry:

His P.O.V:

She was sat quietly in the library reading a book about magical creatures to kill time as she had nothing better to be done for the rest of the day. When suddenly, BANG! A loud noise was heard throughout the entire library, I could see her wondering where that noise came from. I hope she doesn't notice it was me, not just yet anyway. She stood up searching for where that sound came from. So, I stood still behind the old, dusty shelf, waiting for her to come wandering around the corner to find the surprise, I have on my invisibility cloak so she doesn't see me yet. Finally, I see her trotting along to where I made the noise. She looked around as she noticed the little box I placed there for her, waiting and anticipating for her to open it.

Your P.O.V:

I heard a loud noise coming from behind the shelves in the library and before, I knew it my feet took me towards the sound. When I got here, I saw nothing but a tiny little box wrapped in a nice mint green wrapping paper and a golden ribbon. I picked it up wondering who's it could be when I saw a tag attached so I made the decision to check and see who it belonged to. Once I looked I noticed it had my name on it, hmm how peculiar I thought but yet it was so exciting, so I opened it to which a whole bunch of confetti and fireworks flew out, BANG! WOOOSH! WOOO! I looked up to discover the fireworks spelling out, 'WILL YOU (Y/N) (Y/L/N), DO ME THE HONOUR OF BEING MY GIRLFRIEND? - HARRY POTTER' wow, how beautiful I thought, I could not help but have the biggest grin on my face. Suddenly, I hear a noise from behind me, "so, will you?" it was Harry, I just looked at him with the biggest smile ever, this was the best day of my life. Obviously, I nodded my head frantically because of course who wouldn't, it's THE Harry Potter, every girl loved him, and of course, I was one of those girls, and I am still one of those girls.

Ron:

Your P.O.V:

I've just finished my last lesson of the day and have now decided to go find Ron, I haven't seen him the past couple of hours and I'm worried about him, what if he's sick. I saw Harry and Hermione walking my way and who better to ask about Ron than his two best friends, am I right? "Harry, Hermione, have either of you seen Ron anywhere?" I politely asked. Harry was looking at me in this weird way, and it began to make me feel as though I had something on my face. Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs which to me was rather odd, but nevermind that I need to find Ron. "Oh, Ron is in the kitchen with the house elves, feel free to go find him," Hermione told me. I could tell she was trying to hold back a huge smile but I wonder why. Hmm, oh well I'll just talk to her about it later. "Ok, thank you," I replied and set off walking towards the kitchen. It took me ten minutes to get here but at least I finally arrived. I walked through the doors to see Ron covered in what seemed to be flour. 'Huh, I wonder what he's been up to.' "Ron, what are you doing? You look like a complete mess." I spoke. "Oh, (Y/N), you're here, erm I was just making cupcakes." The minute I heard the word cupcake, I rushed over, grabbed one and took a bite. "Bloody hell (Y/N), you were supposed to read them first." 'Oops,' I thought. "Ronald, seriously? How was I supposed to know that? And besides, its cupcakes how can I hold back from eating one." I said. "Look, I'll put it back and read them," I spoke again. Lucky enough I only took a small bite and the letter was still written on the cupcake. "Good." He replied. I placed the cupcake back where I got it and look at them to see it said '(Y/N) WILL YOU DO ME THE HONOUR OF BEING MY GIRLFRIEND?' as I read it I felt a small tear drop onto my hand. I then turned to look at Ron with a huge smile on my face. "Ronald Weasley, I would love to be your girlfriend," I spoke ecstatically, knowing that this is the start of a beautiful relationship.

Draco:

Regular P.O.V:

You were sat at the Gryffindor table when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder. You turned around to see Crabbe stood there with a beautiful white rose. 'Hmm, my favourite.' You thought. "Follow the roses." Was all he said and pointed towards the Great Hall doors. You arose (no pun intended) from your seat and began walking towards the doors. There stood Goyle with another rose in his hand. 'How peculiar' you thought. "Keep going." He said. So you walked through the doors and heard Fred and George shouting your name. "(Y/N), This way, come on (Y/N), move those legs." Which caused you to laugh at them. 'Oh Merlin, these two are strange' you soon arrived in front of them and the boy gave you a rose each. "Just a few more to go." then pointed in the direction in which you're supposed to walk. You looked at the end of the hall and saw Ron standing there and began to make your way there. "Almost there, just head that way," Ron said nodding his head in the direction in which you're supposed to go while handing you another rose. You were so confused as to what was going on but you felt so intrigued to find out what was going on and how it all ends. You continued your walk and came to find Harry with another rose. "Just one more of these and you're there." 'Huh,' you thought. You then began to quicken your pace to see what was lying ahead. You came to a stop when you found Hermoine with the last rose. "Just there." She spoke in her soft voice and pointed outside towards the Whomping Willow, you took the final rose and made your way there. You came to a halt when you say 'Be Mine? - Yours Truly, Draco' written in rose petals. You heard someone say "ahem" from behind you and turned to see Draco. "I would love to be yours." You told him. "Good, and don't say anything about me asking Potter and his friends to help. I did it for you and that's all you need to know." You giggled at what he had said and thought to yourself. 'Best. Day. Ever'

Neville:

His P.O.V:

So, today's the day I've finally decided to ask out my crush. Her name is (Y/N). She's so beautiful, she has (H/L) (H/C) hair that frames her face perfectly. Her smooth (S/C) skin is radiant when the sun hits it just right. And her li- "Hey Nev, you ok?" A voice pulled me from my thoughts, it's her, oh Godric I'd know that angelic voice anywhere. "Ugh, erm, yeah. I'm good. I'm just getting a couple of books to study. Are you ok? And what you up to?" I already know what she's doing, I know her schedule better than my own and I know she's here to do a bit of light reading but I wouldn't want to say that out loud I mean she will think I'm a complete freak just like everyone else already does. "Oh, ok. You look a little a pale and I thought you might be feeling a little sick, but anyway I've just come for a bit of reading, would you care to join me?" I could listen to her talk all day. "Oh, sure. I'd love too, that would be great, I mean only if I-" "Nev, you're rambling, now just come on, let's go find some seats." "Yeah, sure," I told her as we began walking, we walked all the way to the back of the library and sat down on the seats further back. 'Ok,' I thought 'time to put this plan into action' "Nice book that, how far have you got?" I asked, trying not to let the nerves get the better of me. "I'm just on chapter thirteen, and honestly it seems pretty good so far." "That's good. Can you do me a favour? Go to page five hundred and twenty-one, line seven." I asked her, god I hope this goes well.

Your P.O.V:

Huh, Nev seems to be acting a little strange but that can wait. I've decided to do what he's asked and went to the page and look at line seven. The words 'This was his moment, it was time to ask her, but will she say yes...' Wait. What. Is he... Oh my gosh... He's asking me out. "Oh Nev, yes, yes, yes thousand times yes." this is the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me, and I'm glad it was Nev, I mean I've adored him since we met each other in my compartment of the train.

Seamus:

Your P.O.V:

I was walking down the hall when I noticed if I didn't hurry up I would be late for my next class. I parted ways with my friends and scurried off down the hall towards potions. There's no way I can risk being late considering the fact that I have Professor Snape for a teacher, he's so heartless and doesn't even give you a chance with anything if you're not Slytherin and guess what I'm not Slytherin. I walked into the classroom and realised that he wasn't here yet, phew, I thought. I took my seat next to Seamus as I usually would but for some reason he looked extremely nervous, I wonder why? But before I could ask Professor Snape walked in. 'Great' I thought. The class proceeded as normal and halfway through making my potion, I heard the usual bang come from the side of me, which usually meant Seamus messed up his potion, so I turned to the side to help him fix things as I'd normally do. Only this time I noticed something different. I saw the words 'Will you (Y/N), please be my girlfriend' written within the smoke. I looked at Seamus who said "Will you?" with a nervous smile etched on his face. "Yes, definitely yes," I spoke with excitement laced in my voice. "Miss (Y/L/N), Mr Finnigan. Detention." I heard Professor Snape say The one thing I didn't want to happen today, happened. But in all honesty, it's definitely worth it.

Fred:

Regular P.O.V:

Today's the day for the Quidditch match. It's Gryffindor VS Slytherin to see which team shall win the final match of the year. Yet even though you should be cheering for Slytherin you're not. In fact, you're actually cheering and screaming for Gryffindor instead, all you keep doing is cheering for Fred Weasley, your crush and George. All you want is for them to win but at the moment they only have 70 points and Slytherin have 80, which of course you're happy with because it is your house team but you'd be so much happier if it was the other way around. You're pulled from your thoughts when you saw a bludger come your way but before it had the chance to get close enough you saw Fred fly down to save the day, he hit the bludger away then turned to you to give a sly wink. You couldn't help but let the blush form on your face. Then all of a sudden they called for a time out and everyone began chattering among themselves confused as to what was going on. Then suddenly Fred was in front of all the players with a microphone at hand "So," you heard him say, you looked right at him to see what he was about to do next. "We all know this gorgeous girl that I always have by my side, she's my partner in crime, well my other one, I also have George." You couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, anyway, she's perfect and I've been crushing on her for a long time now and well I have this for her." And randomly the team started flying around to spell out. 'Will you please go out with me?' and then Fred began flying towards you. You stood shocked. He arrived right in front of you and said: "So, (Y/N) will you be mine?" You stood nodding your head vigorously not knowing what to say because you felt as though you couldn't trust your words. Fred smiled at you as though he'd won the lottery and screamed through the microphone 'she said yes' and the whole crowd began to go wild. You felt as though you had never been happier in your whole entire life than at this moment right now. This is the start to a beautiful life to a guy you've been in love with for quite a while now and you can't wait to see what the future has in store for you both.

George:

Your P.O.V:

I was sat with Fred in the Gryffindor common room waiting for George so that we could go get dinner, but I wonder what's taking him so long. Suddenly Fred stood up and told me to follow him. "But what about George?" I asked, "Don't worry, we're off to find him." He replied. So I stood up and began to follow him, we had a small conversation about his pranks and how good he feels his and George's prank will be. Next thing I knew we had arrived in the middle of the Quidditch field and saw a beautiful picnic laid out. "Fred, what's going on?" I asked but when I looked up he was nowhere to be seen. "Fred... Fred..." I kept shouting but he wasn't anywhere near here. I sat down on the blanket, wondering what was going on when all of a sudden I felt someone grab my shoulders while screaming boo. I jumped, feeling frightened. I turned myself around to see George stood there, I picked up a pillow and began hitting him with it while screaming at him, telling him how much of an idiot he is for scaring you like that. "Ouch, ouch, stop it, woman, I'm sorry." He said while laughing. "Yeah, you better be, now what the hell is all this you idiot?" I asked. "Well, this dear is a date." He replied. "Oh," I said. "So, erm, (Y/N) how about I teach you to fly." George suddenly said. "Ok," I replied. We got up and he began to teach me how to ride a broom. We had now been doing this for about an hour when all of a sudden I began to lose my grip. I began to fall off my broom and screamed for George and he swooped me into his arms. "Why thank you for saving my life. You're my hero, my very own Superman." I said while laughing "Well if I'm Superman can you be my Lois Lane?" George asked with seriousness laced within his voice which caused me to stop laughing. I stared straight into his eyes and replied with "Nothing would make me happier than being Lois Lane to your Superman." And with that, he flew you back toward the ground where you sat and finished your picnic while waiting for the sunset to come. (You told him about Superman because you're muggleborn and know all about him, so you thought it would be fun to tell him about superheroes and anything related to them).

#harry potter preferences #hp preference #preferences #hogwarts #x reader #harry potter #ron weasley #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #seamus finnigan #fred weasley #george weasley

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haehaeming · 3 years

Text

100 random facts about SJ members that may or may not help you with your FF

Or if you’re just... bored

1. Eunhyuk doesn’t like finger prints on screens, glasses, etc... It’s a little thing I find cute

2. Kyuhyun was a fan of SJ’s music before debuting with them

3. Leeteuk knows what ‘daddy’ means in a sexual context

4. Leeteuk also understands the concept of a sugar parent, but it was not a positive experience for him. It’s possible other members also understand this concept.

5. Kyuhyun likes men and women

6. Yesung writes his own music

7. Leeteuk has many unreleased songs

8. Eunhyuk has difficulty with his emotions in a general sense, so he’s thankful SJ understand him

9. When Kyuhyun was a teenager, he has to rebel against his fathers wishes to debut as a singer.

10. Kyuhyun dated many girls as a teenager, but only kissed one

11. Sungmin and Kyuhyun have the highest amount of testosterone among SJ members. This was public information a long time ago, though, and alcohol consumption has probably lowered the number a little over time.

12. Sungmin and Kyuhyun share a love of wine

13. Ryeowook is an affectionate drunk

14. Leeteuk is a Leo Venus which means he’s very annoying (read: passionate) in his relationships (This fact was corrected by @fanbynature , it originally said Heechul was a Leo Venus too but he’s actually a Leo Virgo, bonus fact!!)

15. Donghae thinks Eunhyuks lips look best in the morning.

16. Eunhyuk understands the concept of drag.

17. Yesung is very talkative but only when you’re close to him

18. Yesung would kiss SJ good morning back in the dorm days

19. Kyuhyun shows love through acts of service

20. Yesung shows love through quality time

21. Leeteuk is a huge flirt, any fan who met him more personally will tell you

22. As far as we know, Yesung used to collect all sorts of jewellery.

23. Ryeowook and Leeteuk are into cute things (phone cases with cute characters, charms, etc)

24. It’s said Yesung and Sungmin will sleep the least amount of time, but Ryeowook will sleep the most

25. Sungmin and Leeteuk share a moon phase (Waning Gibbous)

26. Back in the dorm, Donghae would also wake his members with affection, but no kisses.

27. Donghae lost his first love because he was too clingy.

28. Kyuhyun and Leeteuk were consider ‘mom’s friend’s kids’ in their school days because they excelled in everything they did. Like the scold ‘why can’t you be more like my friends kid’

29. Kyuhyun has a HUGE fanboy past. Now he can barely use the Internet without making it clear he’s old.

30. Shindong doesn’t like to be clothed at night or in the summer. He takes off his clothes unconsciously

31. Donghae was entrusted to Leeteuk by Donghae’s father

32. Donghae keeps his habits from the dorm days around Leeteuk even now. When he and Leeteuk would share a room, Donghae would cuddle Leeteuk. Even now, when they share a room to sleep, Donghae sings to Leeteuk to try and lull him to sleep.

33. Kyuhyuns relationship with Donghae has been a little bit confusing for him, but recently he said Donghae is like SJs son

34. Yesung’s favourite song is ‘I’ll Make Love To You’

35. Sungmin is the only introvert in SJ

36. Kyuhyun, Leeteuk and Sungmin are open to book recommendations at all times

37. Because of Koreas age system, Yesung and Sungmin are basically the same age.

38. Sungmin technically ages 2 times on his birthday.

39. Teenage Leeteuk celebrated little milestones in relationships like ‘100 days anniversary’

40. Leeteuk would rather be called his stage name than his given name.

41. DBSJ* worked with a ghost in the recording studio, according to Sungmin

42. Donghae and Eunhyuk share a love of strawberries

43. Kyuhyun does not like to be called with pet names

44. Yesung has always shown interest in Canada for whatever reason

45. Ryeowook played the triangle in his school band. Literally

46. Yesung, Donghae and Leeteuk don’t drink.

47. Leeteuk and Kyuhyun love the colour white

48. Sometimes, Kyuhyun unwinds by solving math problems

49. Kyuhyun cited himself in his college thesis on K-pop’s popularity.

50. Leeteuk is taller than Sungmin. It’s more drastic than you think

51. Donghae and Sungmin have both been deemed as ‘naturally cute’, but oddly enough, Sungmin has said he doesn’t act cute anymore. Donghae hasn’t changed in terms of cuteness once

52. Donghae is very fond of dogs. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook are not

53. Sungmin and Eunhyuk were the closest friends predebut. They would take the bus to SM together and make sure nobody else sat next to them. There’s a picture somewhere online of a predebut Sungmin resting his head on Eunhyuk during one of those bus rides

54. Leeteuk didn’t have many friends when he was younger. Leeteuk still thinks he doesn’t have many friends.

55. Donghae and Sungmin share forgetfulness.

56. Leeteuk and Heechul became friends easily because they’re the same age and look out for each other. Also because if Leeteuk was busy or resting, Heechul would be the oldest and have authority over the young SJ for him.

57. Leeteuk and Kyuhyun taught themselves how to cook. Ryeowook and Sungmin were good at it from the beginning

58. Leeteuk wanted to become an idol because of 90s kpop groups looking super cool. He wanted some of that for himself and now I think he’s one of the coolest people ever

59. Leeteuk smokes

60. Sungmin used to sleep in a pink nightgown. Even now, he doesn’t let the fact go, but he says it’s embarrassing

61. Predebut Eunhyuk stole a Shinhwa CD from SM to impress a girl

62. Leeteuks waist size is 26 inches. The ideal size for women in the west

63. Leeteuk entered to win special edition Nike shoes 100 times total. He won

64. When a younger Sungmin was frustrated, he would vent online. Similar to how Leeteuk would when he was younger

65. Sungmin recently said men ask him for his number when he goes out

66. As far as we know, Yesung used to worry about whether or not he would live to grow old :(

67. Donghae has always had a love of poetry

68. Kyuhyun’s originally near-sighted

69. Both Yesung and Leeteuk struggle to define their relationships with others

70. Yesung doesn’t smile a lot when cameras aren’t on him

71. Eunhyuk doesn’t like seafood. Donghae does.

72. Donghae doesn’t like sweets. Eunhyuk does

73. Sungmin was the first member to open his YT channel back in 2018.

74. Ryeowook is said to be a heavy drinker

75. Leeteuk finds peace in the rain

76. Kyuhyun is said to have one of the biggest hearts in SJ, alongside Leeteuk

77. Eunhyuk first appeared publicly in 1992 on a TV show by complete accident. It made him happy

78. In order to sleep in a new location, Donghae sleeps best if there’s something near him that reminds him of home. This is an old fact holds up today, Donghae often sleeps close to his members

79. Predebut, Eunhyuk and Junsu purposefully tried to make Donghae cry

80. Every roommate Donghae has had, he has had multiple complaints about all of them

81. Yesung bought a turtle a long time ago because he felt bored without a pet. Even after buying the turtle, he was still bored

82. Eunhyuk is constantly getting ‘friend zoned’ by Donghae. It’s mostly Donghae who calls them as friends, Eunhyuk got a million other words

83. Sungmin studies English and music every day.

84. Leeteuk loves to learn and is always studying something new as well

85. In high school, Leeteuk studied German

86. ‘Don’t give up’ was Sungmin’s motto in elementary school

87. Leeteuk and Sungmin are big Na Hoon Ah fans

88. When Donghae was in elementary school, he was taller than his classmates and even had a nickname relating to how tall he was

89. Sungmin is still mistaken for his 20s

90. Sungmin loves to eat, he talks about food a lot, but still diets strictly as a couple with his Saeun~

91. Eunhyuk is clumsy

92. Leeteuk is very different off camera, but he’s always aware of hidden cameras, so it’s impossible to catch him ‘normally’.

93. Leeteuk and Yesung curse like sailors

94. Kyuhyun and Shindong share great memorization skills

95. Donghae doesn’t like to eat alone

96. Yesung is the only Virgo in SJ. Kyuhyun is the only Aquarius.

97. Leeteuk finds some men to be cute. Particularly men with beards (in terms of dating)

98. Sungmin wants to record music in English for his international fans

99. Sungmin and Leeteuk both have a fan they consider a friend

100. Eunhyuk loves to be in Japan

#super junior #suju #eunhyuk #donghae #yesung #kyuhyun #shindong #ryeowook #leeteuk #sungmin #heechul #🖤 idiot

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

Your feet were killing you in those too-high heels. Heading firstly to the bar and then onwards to a comfy-looking sofa right next to it, you sank down into it and crossed your legs as elegantly as you could. Then you took the biggest damn slug out of the G&T in your hand that you could manage.

What a boring, tedious, stupid freaking cocktail party this was.

You owed your little cousin a major favour, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

Saying ‘no’ to start with, she’d begged and pleaded with you, then finally threatened to tell your parents she’d recently picked you up from police custody unless you went along in her place.

Leaving work just as she called, you heard her tinny voice mentioning the Parent Threat and you stopped dead in your tracks, hastily taking her off speaker. People were tutting at you for being in the way, so you quickly moved to the side as you hissed, “Shut up!” at her.

Not so long ago, there had been a certain little public disorder thing you’d become embroiled in. Well, okay, had kind of started. In fact it was the reason why your boyfriend was now your ex-boyfriend.

You’d both been at a rowdy house party, got really very drunk and you’d eventually lost him in the mob of gyrating, smoking and over-imbibing bodies. As someone had cheerfully informed you when you asked where the Missing Link was, you found out he was very busy indeed on the patio with his tongue lodged down some unknown female’s throat.

You’d sucker-punched him and hard-slapped her, and a long, loud screaming match ensued. You’d been in the winning corner as far as you were concerned. But...ha, yeah... that was the sound of the police. Being let off with a caution not to be a naughty girl again, your ‘Angel Face’ look lasted until the door of the cop shop hit you on the butt on your way out.

The first thing you did as you walked away was send the “Fuck Off and Never Contact Me Again” text to your now-ex. Second, you texted your cousin and asked for a lift. Hence the favour you owed her.

You’d sighed and agreed you’d cover for her at this ‘do’. There was no way your parents could ever find out about this; you’d graduated with a Business degree a few years back, had recently opened your second cafe & patisserie in town and were therefore designated as a ‘responsible adult’ in their eyes. They’d be truly appalled if they knew what you’d done, although you were sure you’d get at least a little sympathy from them due to the circumstances.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were just taking another huge gulp of G&T when someone was suddenly looming over you, and you glanced up to see a guy who figuratively had “Lounge Lizard” written all over him. Inwardly you sighed, but just stared at him, expression neutral, to see what his approach was going to be.

“Well, hi,” he beamed, his eyes flicking over you, “can I buy you a drink, pretty lady?”

Yeah, about what you expected. You decided to go with Polite Reply No 1.

“Thanks for offering, I’m fine right now though.”

He parked himself on the sofa next to you, angling his body towards you. “Aw, you sure I can’t tempt you? You look a little... thirsty.”

Ooooh you asshole, you thought. You’ve just moved up the scale to Eviscerating Reply No 2.

You opened your mouth to speak, about to bring out the big guns, when another figure stopped beside you. A hand landed on your shoulder, fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“There you are, angel. Sorry I took so long.”

You looked up at the man who’d spoken; tall, lean, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. And handsome. Very handsome.

“Uh.. it’s fine, darling. I just got myself a little G&T while I was waiting.”

Lounge Lizard put up his hands, mumbling an apology and moving away abruptly.

Your saviour looked down at you, a small smile on his lips, “You looked like you needed rescuing.”

“Well, I could’ve handled him perfectly well, but I appreciate the assistance.”

He held out his hand, “Billy Russo. CEO of Anvil. It’s a private security company.” “Oh, OK.. I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of it,” you replied as you shook his hand. You gave him your name, without saying anything else. He looked at you, a little puzzled.

He nodded his head back towards the main crowd, “These are all mainly current and ex military types, sprinkled with security guys like me.” His dark brown eyes looked deep into yours, “So how come you haven’t heard of Anvil?” You shifted on the couch slightly, damn - he’d found you out.

Your cousin - who worked in Admin at one of said security firms - had said you just needed to provide a face to go with the invite. She didn’t want to miss out on any future invites by passing up on this one.

“Look, Mr Russo...” you started saying. “Billy,” he interrupted you. “Billy... okay, look. I’m just filling in for my little cousin who works in security. I run my own business but it’s nothing to do with...” you waved a hand around, “....all this. Can we keep that between ourselves, please?”

A mischievous gleam came into his eyes, and he smiled at you. It was just a small smile, hardly lifting his lips, but you suddenly felt there was something dangerous behind it. “For a price.”

Oh here we go, you thought. Here you were thinking he was a nice enough guy, and he’s really just a smartass after all.

You raised an eyebrow, unsmiling, “What’s the price?”

“Come for a drink with me.... but not here. Let’s go somewhere else.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo

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austajunk · 3 years

Text

Game of Despair (fic)

Chapter One: Despair Gamer

Summary: Surviving through her massive injuries following the ending of the Despair Arc, Chiaki Nanami has fallen after her fellow classmates have become Remnants of Despair. However, when altercations with a certain Servant brings up the chance to find a special person that she lost once again, Chiaki and the aforementioned problematic Servant have no choice but to traverse the apocalypse to bring Izuru Kamukura back to the light of Hope…maybe!

Rating: Mature (because duh)

Warnings: Gore, death, general manipulation and Remnants of Despair Shenanigans

A/N: Hey there. Originally this was a fan comic on tumblr that I did, but due to the scale of the project, I decided it would work better as a fic. The introduction to this fic is different from the fan comic just so I could keep things fresh to write. Please enjoy! You can also find this fic on AO3 if you prefer to read there. I’ll link later.

Games were supposed to be fun. Anyone could play them and they could be played together. It didn’t matter if it was a bad game or if the person you were playing with had any talent whatsoever. It wasn’t the point. The point was to get closer to another person.

At least, that was the philosophy Chiaki Nanami once went by. Games were something that made her happy, but another thing that chained her down at the same time. By being the Super High School Level Gamer, she was locked to her beloved talent and didn’t see any way to open herself to others. That was until she met Hajime Hinata and her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, had showed the strawberry-haired gamer that it was possible to form all the connections she wanted in her life through her talent. For the first time in her life, she had started to feel complete at Hope’s Peak Academy. She was the Class Representative of a band of Ultimate students who were anything but normal... but she loved them with all her heart.

Until the claws of Despair ripped everything away from her, that was. Chiaki Nanami was now a shell of her former self, but that was okay. With her mind filled with nothing but an urge to induce chaos, she couldn’t feel anything for the person she once was. If she couldn’t remember that person, what were they really worth?

—

The fiery skies poured overhead and mixed with the blackness of the night. There was no possible way to see the stars anymore at this point so deep into the end of the world. The only light that could be seen was from a small Nantendo game screen flickering. A girl with pink hair and discolored pink and red eyes leaned against some wreckage, watching as several people ran from demolished buildings and screamed in anguish for their loved ones. Children, women, and even grown men sobbed as a waterfall of bullets cascaded down on their bodies from above.

“You’re losing, you know?” The gamer sighed, twirling a small finger around some of her peach-tinted hair.

On her game screen, a hoard of bullets were raining down on a mass of zombies, massacring them on her side of the screen. The zombie side was fading pitifully fast, their organs squishing from the onslaught of shots.

Beside Chiaki, a man was trembling with the Nantendo in his hand. Sweat was pouring down the front of his head and his breathing was heavy. It looked as though the pale-faced man was going to pass out at any moment. His eyes were blood shot. He had been at this for hours, all to keep the game going and going and going... but it felt like one big, mad, never-ending spiral. He just wanted to drop the game, but all his hostages and prizes were dying all around him the moment he showed any weakness. A large black collar around his neck was tightening every time a point fell from his score. His throat was so constricted that his lips were starting to get purple.

Oh well, Chiaki thought. She was starting to get bored of this anyways. It was really sad though. For a few sweet moments, she had felt an exhilaration like no other. Her entire body had tensed, heat caking her cheeks. She wanted to drop the game and throw herself at the poor man beside her, to rub her curvaceous body against him until she got off on human contact alone when his score had gotten ahead. But alas, that sort of contact had started to wane on his score... and Chiaki’s interests.

“This is disappointing,” said Chiaki, obliterating the rest of the man’s score. Her side of the screen flashed WINNER in big bright red letters and the man beside her squealed in terror. He started convulsing and screaming, the air in his lungs dissipating fast until he seized over and fell over. His eyes bulged from his skull and his neck was bruised and purple until a satisfying crack sounded from his neck. Well... as satisfying as Chiaki could imagine it anyways.

Watching the man’s corpse go limp, she dropped her handheld game console beside him and simply fished another one from her black and white bear-shaped bag. She tapped the screen to life and began to jab at the buttons as though she wasn’t lying beside someone's corpse on top of a bunch of debris underneath a smoke-encrusted sky of darkness. But that was just the world.

Shrieks and screams of agony littered the sky, joining together to create a chaos-induced despair. It was probably the biggest death count Chiaki had earned so far. Her victim, to his credit, had lasted a total of thirteen hours before his score declined and Chiaki’s interest dropped. It was pleasurable until he waned. Now Chiaki was content to just let the cries in the night be silenced as the conclusion of their game (with real human casualties) and to just get up and leave. She did so, leaving her purple game console with the man’s corpse as memento and something of her personal signature. All the world would know where to find the person who could bring the greatest challenge of a killing game to them and that was what she wanted.

The gamer longed to find someone who could beat her and make her feel alive again. Or to feel anything at all. Even if Chiaki knew that she was nowhere close to feeling anything anymore. “My purpose... is Despair,” she uttered to no one in particular, merely touching her forehead as though to remind herself of that fact. It was foolish to stray, foolish to want or desire anything in such a world. Something like that almost seemed like a spec of Hope was left in her heart... which was impossible once the legendary Junko Enoshima snuffed it out.

Thanks to Junko, all the games in the world would not suffice to bring Chiaki Nanami back. One by one, she had been forced to watch her classmates fall into Despair, to watch them torture, massacre and rape others in Junko’s image. Chained to a wall, she watched for over a year as blood sprayed across a dingy massive screen that Junko had left her to view the carnage. She had been tormented and stuck in Hope’s Peak Academy until the last inch of Hope was executed from her body, until she finally wavered and gave into Despair. With the last specs of good will drained from her, the chains around her neck slipped off and she was allowed to walk free in this ruined world... where it felt entirely purposeless to live. But that was the point.

Everything was ruined. Her life was only good for making everyone else experience her own personal Despair. And Chiaki had set to it.

And as far as she was concerned, games were meant to be shared with everyone. Even the bad ones…

—

On the eastern side of a Towa city, a dingy and caved-in subway had been remodeled into a small chamber for the Despair Gamer. She always returned there to rest or to just recollect herself whenever she was bored or wanted to avoid the other Despairs. A bunch of pillows were tucked together for a makeshift gaming chair that she was slumped over, absorbed in one of her prized Nantendo titles.

Only the soft clinking of chains from behind roused her attention ever so slightly.

“Ah… that guy from before didn’t keep you occupied for long, did he?” Said a carefree voice behind Chiaki as she played. “For a moment, it looked like he was really doing it for you.”

Chiaki tilted her head, sinking back into her cushioned gaming chair. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the other presence in this fortress of death was, so she didn’t bother to look at him as he went to work on disposing of the body. What she didn’t notice however was that her Servant wasn’t empty-handed. He had entered the chamber with a large burlap sack… one that was squirming eerily.

Nagito Komaeda. To say he gave into Despair wasn’t quite so accurate. Hope would always win in the end… but it had to be challenged, cultivated… yes, becoming Despair was only meant to encourage Hope. And that was why he belonged to the other Remnants of Despair. He was theirs to use as they saw fit, but he just could not help returning to her again and again. Chiaki Nanami was like a serial killer by now… one complete with a soft, pudgy face and wide, innocent eyes. Utterly fascinating that one so lovely and gentle could rip apart so many people. Despair really had power over others… an alluring, undeniable, sick and twisted power… all Servant wanted to do was be there to witness Hope shatter the monster before him that Despair had created.

But until that happened… oh, how thoughts of Junko Enoshima made the heat swell through every inch of his body…

As if craving her attention, Servant spoke to her again. She could practically feel the grin etched on his face. “Have you gotten so used to the stench of death, Chiaki? You’re actually letting the corpses decompose around you now…” He nodded his head to rotting cadavers left at the back of the room. Perhaps Chiaki had forgotten they were there?

Chiaki’s lips twitched into a small frown, more so from being interrupted. Servant was a strange one. He had something familiar about him, like someone she should remember but it simply did not occur to her to try and do so. If he caused no reaction in her, then that was all there was to it whether she recalled him or not. The pale-haired boy seemed to follow her about like a puppy-dog, sometimes aiding her in procuring or disposing of victims whenever they met up. Chiaki had considered simply killing him, but something in her intuition told her that playing a Killing Game with the likes of him simply wasn’t a wise choice. And straight up slaughtering him was too kind, too merciful. How was she to invoke Despair in the name of Junko Enoshima if she simply hacked up his body?

And so, Chiaki found herself lifting her head at the jostling of chains behind her, watching the metal links swing side to side from around the Servant’s neck. He had a large grin painted on his face as he always did, taking a seat across from her in her little chair. “I guess the smell of death caught me off guard last time,” she mused thoughtfully to him, uncaring if he was really here for conversation or not. He did as he pleased and proved to be quite the clingy individual. But so long as he did the dirty work, Chiaki didn’t mind occasionally indulging him.

“It made me sick... but... now I don’t smell anything. I wonder if I’ve destroyed my sense of smell. Or my brain simply cares less and less each time...” Chiaki said with sigh, curling up in her chair and reaching for her games again. “Why did you come back?” It was really annoying when Chiaki was content to be left alone with her games for the rest of eternity. Alas victims were hard to come by in the apocalypse. Something about people wanting to salvage their lives. She couldn’t understand that. People were going to be slaughtered en masse either way, so shouldn’t they be trying to find the best way to have fun?

That was what Ultimate Despair Gamer was for. To teach others that life was just one big game and if they weren’t having fun, well... their lives didn’t amount to much, did they?

Servant tilted his head at her, his green eyes holding her emotionless gaze for a moment. “Oh, yes! I actually brought you another gift. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but…” He gestured to the struggling brown sack beside him. “I think this may really be the one. If he can’t satisfy you a little more than your usual prey, then I’ll take full responsibility…”

“Hm?” Chiaki stood up and slowly drifted over to the squirming sack that the Servant had left in the middle of the room. A gift? For her? A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she approached the bag and knelt down to pull it back. As soon as she saw the victim awaiting her, a jolt of electric joy shot through her. She gasped lightly and watched as the person’s light chestnut hair spiked up into her view. This was... No... why was the sight of the person’s hair inspiring such a range of emotions on her face? Her eyes lit up and a shudder ran through her body. She wanted to pull the captive close to her already.

Lightly, she pulled the gag from his lips and let him cough and sputter. He wanted to scramble away from the bizarre Gamer, but she quickly grabbed ahold of his shoulders and urged him closer to her. Her breasts rested against his front and she nuzzled him almost affectionately. Startled by the cute girl’s sudden comforting presence, the man didn’t want to feel at ease, especially with her twisted smile flashing down upon him. But at the same time... she seemed harmless. Perhaps a little deranged? But soft and pretty enough... He shakily steadied her against him, wondering if she was the prisoner of this strange, messed up death chamber just like he was. He barely took notice of the boy behind her with the manic grin and kept his eyes trained on her.

“Wh-Where am I...?” The chestnut-haired student asked her. At least, he appeared to be a student with his plain white uniform and dark trousers. A pair of glasses rested askew on his nose. “Are you a prisoner too?! Did that guy kidnap you?”

Chiaki couldn’t help but to tense at the guy’s caring voice, the way he put concern for her before anything else. Even himself. It felt so familiar and she was melting on the inside. Her face became more twisted, more heated and aroused. This was the one! He had to be the one! He was going to play with her until she could finally lie down and let the cold grip of death eclipse her. A final game where she could be happy, fulfilled, complete—

“What’s your name?” Chiaki asked him lightly, trying to hide the frantic blush on her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her heart was fluttering for him.

“Ahhh? Oh... Um, Yusuke?” The man responded, looking around. “Look, why don’t we try to find a way out of here before that guy shows up again? That mastermind!”

“Hm?” Chiaki crossed her legs. “Oh... him. He doesn’t matter. What matters is... well... do you like games, Yusuke?” Her soft voice almost held a low purr to it.

Suddenly, there was a sense of unease in the air. Yusuke blinked and pushed up his glasses. “Um...games?”

—

A small tear trickled over the pale, dead face of her latest victim. After hours and hours and hours of gaming, Yusuke had simply crumpled over. All throughout the week, he had kept Chiaki occupied. Even when he sobbed to her and begged her to let him go, Chiaki was completely enthralled with him. Not a single one of her victims had been so satisfying. He must have truly adored her to keep up such a unique concentration to whatever game she picked out for them to play. He cared for her... he must have loved her to play with her all this time. But then... it was as though his body simply gave out.

Now Yusuke’s corpse decorated the floor of her room, his body still warm from how hard it had worked to bring her even an ounce of joy. Chiaki lingered beside him, her face twisted with what could truly be called Despair. It wasn’t fair. He loved her. Why did he break under all the gaming? She could go forever...

Servant watched her from the corner of the chambers, a small sigh leaving his lips. Something about her actions had slightly disturbed him. For close to a week, he had watched Chiaki become truly elated. It was like she was a different person. And now the young man he had offered up to her was nothing more than a body getting colder by the moment. She drained every last agonizing bit of life from him. It was so thoughtless, so empty…

“I wonder why you don’t just let them rest…” He said, stepping forward as if to pull Chiaki away from the body. “Oh well. I’ll find you a new toy. That will satisfy you!” What hollow words. There was nothing out there that could satisfy the monster before him. That was probably the most horrifying thing about her… but it made him utterly enthralled with her.

“...It’s never going to be enough...” Chiaki said solemnly as she heard the rustling of chains clinking in the background. She knew Servant was behind her, waiting for the body to be disposed of, but Chiaki didn’t want to let it go.

“This was the... the best one... and he wasn’t even enough. Nowhere close... He was like a barrel of love... and I need an ocean... I...I...” She trembled, stifling a sob. Even as a Remnant of Despair, it wasn’t like she lacked feelings... even if they were only centered on herself and self-preservation.

She sighed a hollow bitter sigh and stood up, giving Yusuke’s body a savage kick with her boots. After watching the dirt from her shoes smear his cheek, she turned around and walked past Servant.

“The person you’re searching for… he doesn’t exist anymore…”

Chiaki suddenly clutched her chest tightly as though she were in pain. There was an unbearable pounding in her head. Make it stop… it had to stop… why couldn’t she ignore it?

“I’m not staying here. I’m... I’m going to leave. I want to find something else...something I lost.” The words left her lips before she even realized it. She could almost envision that person with the same chestnut hair and soft, sincere smile. But she didn’t remember his name... not a bit…

Just as she headed to the entrance of the chamber that Servant was leaning against, a foot suddenly kicked up to block her exit. She stepped back and looked at Servant, a frown working onto her gentle features.

“Ah… I thought we may hit this little snag,” Servant said, his smile fading slightly. “You’ve lost a lot of things. It won’t help you to search for all of them! More than likely, you’ll never find anything!” He put his hands together, pleading. “Let me find you another toy! The next one will satisfy you for sure.”

“What..? I…” Chiaki blinked and rubbed her eyes. Those words were making her feel just a tad woozy.

“There, there,” Servant cooed, entwining his arm with hers to lead her away from the door. “Won’t you stay here with me, Chiaki? Just for today… don’t look for what you can’t find. Just stay here today.” Forever. He intended to keep her as long as he could. Hope had to be protected.

And the person she wanted… that same person lit up his entire world as well. The thoughts of that person…

“Chiaki, just stay here… ah, I know,” said Servant behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “let’s play a game together. You and me. If you win—“

“Then I leave,” muttered Chiaki. Then she blinked again in realization.

The smell of this chamber was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was because the last toy truly was something she did like. She couldn’t stop playing with him until he broke. But Chiaki wasn’t looking at the remnants of her beloved toy anymore. Instead, she peered at the filthy walls and floors of her game chamber. Decayed bits of body parts were strewn about across the floor and the stench was starting to become invasive again.

How long had she been in these chambers? She couldn’t remember when she had first entered, only that soon after, the Servant had appeared. He would scavenge for food and toys for her, to keep her occupied and “satisfied” with any new playthings he happened to procure. Chiaki groaned, her head feeling a bit heavy. “Ungh...” She clutched her face, trying to ignore the stench of death wafting in the air. Something about the charming spell of this place was starting to wear off fast and she quite despised it.

Chiaki shook her head, trying to brush off the sickening realization that she just didn’t know how long she had been in a chamber like this, playing games with toy after toy after toy. How many had she killed? Well... they existed to please her, so it didn’t matter. But... when had she last stepped outside? When had she tried to leave? Every time she had risen from her chair to peer out into the world, the Servant would give her a friendly wave and insist that he would go out to bring her food or more toys. It was all just too irksome.

She turned back to Servant. “I want to leave.”

“Of course. If you’re ready, you’ll win,” said Servant cheerfully, waving his obscured hand. “But if I win… hmm… how about this? For every game you lose against me, I’ll alter your appearance just a little…”

“Alter my appearance…?”

Servant nodded, motioning for her to take a seat back in her Gamer chair.

“That’s right. For every game you fail,” he said, letting his voice trail off just a bit, “I’ll remodel you to look a bit more like Lady Junko Enoshima each time.”

“Of course, are you really sure you want to play?”

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 1

Note: So, I decided to do the same thing I did last year, which is to turn the whumptober prompts into one continuous fic! This first chapter heading info up here is a mess! I’ll fix the next post! Also will be posted on Ao3 (the link will only be on the chapter index page so I don’t keep forgetting to do that). These chapters are typically on the shorter side just because I am writing a chapter daily and haven’t written ahead more than the first two chapters!

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

No. 1 - ALL TRUSSED UP AND STILL NOWHERE TO GO

“You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Chapter Index/ Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean you don’t have a ruler?”

“I don’t need one.”

“What are you doing—… no!”

Never had there been a more malicious offence in Zelda’s eyes. Rulers were the key to life: they kept things straight, and they made things balanced. There was equality in every precise and calculated movement, and a delicate hand was required to hold the simple mechanism steady.

So, watching Dorian take the scissors and cut three strands of paper was like cutting straight through the muscle of Zelda’s heart.

“Why would you do that!” she screeched, more an accusation than a question. “Now they’re uneven, and they’re crooked! You’re insane!”

“It’s just a stencil, Zelda. If you want to cut the wood with a ruler, go ahead, but now we have an idea of how much we need.”

“We need to redo that. It’s not accurate.”

“I’ve been doing this since before you were born. It’s accurate enough. I can eyeball it. Do you want to fix the fence today, or no?”

Zelda grabbed their tools off the table and sulked behind Dorian as he left without waiting for her answer.

There were some battles Zelda knew she had to lose to win the war. This was one of them,

The fence was a priority to keep out anything that might have been affected with Malice from entering Mabe Village. There were so few survivors as it was.

Before the Malice had invaded Hyrule, Zelda had thought that her student loans were the biggest problem she’d have to tackle. She’d thought the money she’d spent on an apartment outside Castle Town was worth it, despite being far from her family back in Akkala. She thought there was a bright future waiting for her behind the years she’d spent in academia, trapped behind computers writing term papers and researching and experimenting and playing by others’ rules with the dream of one day making her own.

Then, the Malice spread: a thick purple substance that oozed from a seemingly endless source; a vile smell that reeked of rotting food in a broken refrigerator, and a gaseous haze that followed that made it near impossible to breathe. Worse, it corrupted any who came into direct physical contact with it for too long, and most of those affected were now dead for one reason or another.

She remembered when her car stopped working on the highway as the purple smoke filled the air on that first day four years ago. She’d stayed inside the metal hull, watching in awed horror as it engulfed her in an endless stream of fog. She ducked down below the steering wheel and listened to the crashes of other cars on the road that didn’t manage to slow down before their sight was stolen by it all. The constant ring of a jammed horn had her blocking her ears after too long.

Three days in the car, officially parched and hungry, no one had come for her. No phones worked; no drivers dared leave their vehicles. But it had become too much, and Zelda decided it was worth risking a venture outside, even amidst the lingering smoke. Her tongue was dried out and every breath of air came out in a wheezing hiss. But she’d done it.

The haze had been unpleasant and burned her eyes a fair bit, but when she stumbled into a water cooler that had fallen from a shattered car’s backseat and chugged every drink inside, she found other survivors along the side of the highway doing the same, and they all stayed together until they could reach safety.

Enter Mabe Village, four years later.

Zelda and her group had scavenged on the side of the road for almost a full year before they’d found the refuge. It was safe from the crazed bokoblins who once lived peacefully in their own territories. It had walls to prevent any of the fast-but-grounded lizalfos from scaling over. And each creature came at them with a vengeance, each fueled by contact with the Malice.

For a while, Zelda was the only engineer who could fix the solar panel garden and keep the power running. She developed as many mechanical skills as she could, fixing tools and maintaining the plumbing. She even began to learn carpentry to keep the houses upright.

Then, Dorian came in: someone with far more experience than her to help lighten her load. She slept more with him around, and he was full of energy to work through the nights when Zelda couldn’t.

“Would your mom ever let you do this?” Dorian joked as they made it to the wall and set their tools down.

Zelda, now in her mid-twenties, hadn’t seen her mom in years, but she’d learned everything from her. She thought about the blonde woman with blue eyes who used to sneak Zelda dangerous tools when she was too young to comprehend the danger. The woman who had her daughter assist her with live wires because she needed a third hand. Zelda knew how to hold a soldering pen before holding a real one.

“No,” Zelda snorted, always careful about her mother’s carelessness. “She’d let me watch, but she’d definitely be too worried about my hands.”

“Always the hands,” Dorian repeated with a joking smile.

“Always the hands.”

The two set out to fix a gaping hole in their fence, and while Dorian took the outside, the barbed wire that was laid over the wood planks to discourage any creatures from ramming into it, Zelda took the wooden boards inside.

When they were all in place, Zelda examined some of the old wood, intrigued by a perfect set of bite marks.

“Dorian! Was this Ms. Maple’s dog who did all this damage?”

She turned it over in her hand and set it down with half a mind to stride right over to the only dog owner in Mabe Village, but when she heard silence from the other side of the fence, Zelda stopped herself.

“Dorian?” When it was still silent, Zelda turned and grabbed the closest tool she could reach: a screwdriver. She glanced down to see if there was anything better, but there was only her ruler, a hammer, nails, and a second flathead.

Looking behind her, she tucked the flathead into her belt and gripped the hammer as tightly as she could before heading around the gate to check on Dorian.

He wasn’t there.

There was barely a moment to think that something might have happened to him before she was face first in the grass with a heavy pressure holding her down.

Zelda tried to buck them off of her, but they were too heavy. There was a sound of metal scraping against something, and Zelda let out a muffled scream into the grass, still trying to free herself.

“No, wait! Wait!”

Zelda’s head whipped up and she saw a large group walking towards her, each dressed in red bodysuits with a strange mask concealing their faces. The voice though… the voice was…

“Dorian!” she screamed, trying to move again. “Get help!”

His face contorted, and he bent down in front of her, but his words were addressed to whoever was behind her. “She’s useful. She’s smart, handy, talented. We need her. And she’ll understand why we did this. She smart,” he said again, nodding to her.

The man behind her hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Positive. I’ve seen her work. I know her.”

A chill shot down Zelda’s spine, and she felt herself tugged upwards until she was sitting on her knees, face-to-face with Dorian in his red suit and a white mask atop his grey hair.

“Fine. Bring her with us. Tie her up.”

“Don’t fight, Zelda. I promise, this is just a precaution.”

She couldn’t help her body from struggling a bit, and she watched Dorian slide his mask into place.

“What’s happening? What’s happening?” Her wrists were tugged hard behind her back, and the rope was frayed enough to cut into her skin a bit.

Dorian held out his hand, and Zelda, now bound, was handed off. “You’re with the Yiga Clan now.”

And with that, every other member of the group drew out their weapons and headed into Mabe Village while Dorian held Zelda still through her sobs for all the friends she’d never see again.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw au #modern au #post apocalyptic #link #zelda #zelink #whumptober #whumptober 2021 #whumptober2021 #no.1 #barbed wire #bound #whump #dorian #yiga clan #malice #writing

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

invisible string

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: sequel to willow. wanda is a tarot reader and you cannot tell me otherwise. it is canon.

WILLOW - TOLERATE IT

Time, curious time gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

James was taken aback by her move, watching his black king cornered by both her white queen and king. How had he not seen it? It was right there ever since she moved her queen to lay in F7 right at the beginning of the game. How? It didn’t matter but her naughty smile, pushing at the corner of her chapstick painted lips left no doubt to who had won this game. He bit his lip leaning against the couch, full view of the glass chess board. She had less pieces left than him but she had still managed to won and as such he extended his hand towards her. She looked at his hand hesitantly, her winning grin fading and her usual insecurity returned as a shake hand came to shake his.

- No one has won a game against me in years. - he grabbed the glass black king from the board, handing it to her. - How’d you do it?

- You wanted my king. You wanted it so badly you forgot about your own, so I distracted you with minor pieces. Gave you the false sense of security you had it and then struck down.

- That’s such a dirty trick, petal. - he leaned against the velvet fabric of the armchair, eyeing her up and down. She felt naked under his gaze, almost as if he could see through her walls and clothing. She guessed a man like him needed to have such a sharp eye but it wasn’t any less intimidating, even if she had just won a chess match against him.

He rose slowly from the armchair, his feet moving slowly towards a silver cart leaning against a wall, just under an abstract painting with several glass bottles of several coloured liquids. He took the glass stone from one of them, pouring some of the dark amber liquid onto two glasses before offering one to Y/N.

- Glenlivet. - he spoke out, noticing the confusion on her face. - You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?

- How old do you think I am Mr. Barnes? I thought you knew everything about your employees.

- And I do, petal. I know where you went to school, kindergarten even, know the name of your friends and that’s all from one of my men following you for a day. - Bucky rose his glass in a small toast before starting to drink. Y/N’s colour drained from her face as she started to wonder if she’d gone to see his father in the precinct. She hadn’t. At least she thought yet her body started shaking and it became harder to breathe. - Y/N? Hey, are you okay?

- Yeah ... I just need some fresh air. - she tried to get up from the couch but she couldn’t, her nerves getting over her. What if he’d heard her speak about the undercover job, she was dead, she was definitely flirting with death the moment she stepped into his home.

- Someone was following you from the bar, petal. I’m not going to kill you, if I were to kill you it wouldn’t be in the comfort of my own home. Blood is a bitch to take out of white carpets. - Bucky once again seemed to read through her. He once again got up from his couch, placing his gun on the marbled island of his kitchen before returning to her. - You’re paranoid, petal.

- It’s not ... I don’t really like being followed. Why were you following me?

- That guy from the bar followed you home and since he got his head smashed against the counter and a drink thrown in his face, I thought better to send Steve after you for that night. You are awfully clumsy and if you had any real enemies, you’d be dead by now. You leave your key under the entry matt and so does your housemate and her lousy brother too. Twins?

- Yes.

- You’re so afraid of me but in all honesty petal, you’re the biggest danger to yourself.

- Has Steve followed me recently?

- No. I’ve been driving you home ever since, park a bit outside campus to ensure you get in. It’s an ugly world out there, petal.

- I know. Trust me, I do ...

After her mother died, the home she had once learned to love lost its homey feeling. Suddenly, the home that always smelled like fresh lemon tarts and gardenias was now dark. His father left his case files all over the kitchen and would sit at the table smoking his cigars with a glass of port as he read through the cases. Her father loved her, he did, just in his own way.

She still remembered peaking by the door, holding onto a blanket her mother had quilted for her with her name embroidered in aqua blue, and seeing the photos scattered around the table of murders, abusers, robberies. She knew there was darkness, she just preferred to ignore it.

- You live inside your head very often don’t you? - he eyed her as she took a sip of the drink he had offered her. Scotch was never her drink of choice, she preferred not to drink at all seeing how it had soured her father. Yet, she guessed a centenary drink was no joke.

- That’s called being an only child, Mr. Barnes. Besides, my ideas are rarely worth listening.

- Hm, I see ... Perhaps you’d like to see your room? - he changed the conversation, offering a hand to her so she could get up.

Her soft fingers wrapped around his cold hand, a stark contrast to her warm hand. Bucky finger lingered over the top of her palm, feeling the softness and plumpness of her skin compared to his scarred, rough one. She didn’t mind, she followed him happily through the halls of his way too big house.

Steve had told him when he bought it that it was too big for himself alone but for Bucky buying a big flat meant he made it, he could now tell everyone else who doubted him to fuck off yet it was hard to come back to it at the end of the day. Always clean and always empty. The staff didn’t stay behind for much longer, having heard all sorts of rumours and he believed if Y/N wasn’t so afraid of him, she would’ve probably left. Yet, he couldn’t find himself to sell the flat so he just slept in hotel rooms. Smaller roomers where it didn’t feel like the emptiness surrounded him constantly.

He led her to one of the guest rooms he had decorated in soft pinks, whites and greys. Bucky guessed it’d make her comfortable, it matched her cardigans and little embroidered dresses she would bring around to the bar despite most of his waitresses constantly berating her on it, saying it would get her no tips.

Y/N peaked through the door crack as he opened it. The room was rather soft with a large king sized bed with white and blush pink bedding along with a grey rug nearby. With so many bedrooms, he probably had enough time to decorate each one with a different colour palette.

- There should be some pyjamas in the wardrobe. Might be a bit big but it’s better than sleeping with your clothes on.

- You seem prepared. Is this where you bring your mistresses?

- My mistresses don’t sleep in my house. - why would you say that, Y/N? Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I’ll drive you home tomorrow at 8AM so you should go to sleep. Goodnight, petal.

- Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Barnes. - he closed the door behind her and she was left with herself in the bedroom.

She padded around the linoleum floors, phone in hand as she photographed the horizon so maybe her father could locate the house and search for evidence. Y/N couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself to go investigating his house as he was kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Instead she just investigated the room which was so much better. It was a suite with its own bathroom decorated with monogramed fluffy white towels and white marbled surfaces. She wondered why he wouldn’t bring someone here, it was clearly a work of architectural art but yet again, maybe don’t show strangers where you sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown it to her.

At least she was doing something right. At least he didn’t hate her enough not to allow her to listen to his conversations, to the talks of deals that would surely provide her father’s precinct with the clues that they were not insane to think that there were tradings happening under their noses. She was doing good but she felt dirty nonetheless. She didn’t like lying but she also wanted to graduate, to be something other than the Capitan’s daughter.

She ignored her mind and got dressed in the steamed and washed pyjamas that were hanging on the silk hanger of the closet and got inside the bed. She was okay, she was going to be okay.

The daylight ruptured through the night and she was the first one up to get dressed and make the bed as well as put the pyjamas back on their place. Bucky didn’t take long to knock on her door and as she opened it there he was again, polished suit and hair as if looking casual destroyed the whole appearance. It didn’t, he was a handsome man and she was absolutely certain he would look handsome in anything.

- Did you sleep well? - he questioned as she stepped out the room, holding onto her worn out faux leather brown satchel.

- Yes, it’s a very comfortable bed. What about you?

- I don’t have time to sleep, petal. I was thinking about having some breakfast before I dropped you off, if that’s okay with you.

- I just want to get back home. My flatmate might worry.

Bucky didn’t force her. She was like any other staff and he guessed having breakfast with the mob boss wasn’t her idea of a good spent morning, besides, she probably still needed to go to class. He drove her back to her small, unsafe which she saw as safe flat, keeping an eye on her every once in a while. Her posture was rigid or even one that a manner teacher wouldn’t correct, it was slouched over his window, hand under her chin as she observed the early morning light illuminate the city.

Getting to campus during early mornings were always funny to her as she never knew what she would find; some students would be still returning from nights out while some would exit the library with piles and piles of books and notes. Either way, it was always a fun game. He stopped in front of her flat, putting the car on stop, engine slowly lowering its sounds.

- Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Barnes. - she held her satchel against her chest.

- You got an evening dress? Cocktail party maybe?

- So not a black dress? - she teased, biting the skin of inner lip.

- Definitely not.

- I think I might have something.

- You’re not working tonight, you’re coming with me to an auction. I’ll pay you double the salary of a nightshift if you say yes.

- Plus night wages?

- Everything you’d get paid a night, I’ll double it.

- I’ll get to work finding that dress then. - she opened the door of his car, exiting before waving him goodbye.

Getting inside her flat, she could definitely sense the difference between worlds she was living in. Spend time with James Barnes, her father told her. Besides, how bad could an action be? There were several people there and if she knew what he was buying maybe it would prove useful in the future.

She climbed the stairs up to her door which was slightly open. She would’ve questioned why had it not been for Pietro’s voice echoing through the whole hall. Of course. None of them really close the door whenever the other one is around.

- Wanda, I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. - he told his sister who merely rolled her eyes at him. - Shuffle it again.

- It says you’re a fuckboy deal with it. - she crossed her arms, before noticing Y/N had come in. - Hey you, you’re here early. I thought you were gonna appreciate your motel stay for a little while.

- Well, I ... I was just homesick. - she lied. Wanda clearly wouldn’t like to know where she had spent the night. - What are you guys doing?

- Pietro asked me to do a reading on him and he’s upset at the result. As per usual.

- I’m telling you the deck is broken. Do Y/N. - he pointed at the captain’s daughter who sat down by the coffee table where the two were. Wanda shrugged and asked Y/N to touch the deck before she started to shuffle it, three cards falling onto the table as soon as she did.

The Lovers, the Devil and Death. Y/N knew those cards all too well, she loved roaming through Wanda’s deck and marvel at the beautiful pictures and Wanda normally told her that the Death card was not as bad as everyone made it look like as well as the Devil. However, this time, all the colour drained from the brunette’s face as the stared at the cards fallen on the table. She shuffled the deck again, hoping for more cards, this time getting the Six and Nine of Swords.

- Everything okay, Wan? - she asked her friend who was intensely staring at the cards in front of her.

- Yeah ... I guess Pietro is right, the deck is broken.

- See? I told you so. You never listen to me.

- I think I should be getting to class now. - she interrupted the two sibling’s bickering. - I’ll see you later.

She spent most of her classes thinking about the auction. It was harmless enough and her father was over the moon, telling her she should be proud that she was now part of the “inner circle”, whatever that meant. Nevertheless, she was getting paid double which would always help with rent and utilities. The last module took hours of a lecturer going through yet another generic powerpoint followed by a class of over a hundred students rushing out the door the moment it was over.

She took to her bedroom before Wanda arrived to search for the only evening dress she had which barely saw the light of day, mostly living inside the black box over her wardrobe. It was her mother’s, something she had left behind that Y/N had taken a particular liking to once she grew up. It was a baby pink slip dress with the hem in matching lace and she guessed it would be appropriate for an auction.

- Where are you going? - Wanda asked as Y/N stepped out of the room. Shit. Of all the days for her to be home early, it just had to be today. - What are you doing wearing your mum’s dress?

- It’s fancy dress day at the bar.

- Fancy dress day at a mob bar?

- Clearly.

- What are you hid ... - Wanda was interrupted by Y/N’s phone. Mr. Barnes had texted her he was outside just at the right time.

- I’ll see you later, Wan. Have fun but not too much fun.

Before the brunette could question her, Y/N was already out the door, bag in hand. She went down the stairs and outside where Mr. Barnes was leaning against his car, dressed in a navy blue suit which made him look like a model gracing the cover’s of fashion magazines.

- You’re supposed to make me wait, petal.

- I like being on time. - she walked up to him, standing less than an arm’s distance from the posh dressed mob boss.

- I should start by warning you not to go by your real name today. Safety purposes.

- What should I call myself then? Your date? - she asked as he helped her inside the car.

- You can call yourself whatever you’d like, petal. As long as it’s not your real name and I know what name you’re going by.

- Uhm ... I wanna go by Betty.

- Betty?

- Like Betty Draper from Mad Men. She sounds like the type of woman who would go to an auction.

- So you wanna be Betty Drapper? - Bucky hide a small smile as he drove through the dark night.

- No, I wanna be called Betty for tonight. - she leaned against the comfortable seatings of his car.

“You’re part of the inner circle now, darling. Do something about it”, her father’s words echoed in her mind through the faint sound of the radio playing Doris Day. Yet again she had no idea how going to an auction would be a break in the case unless Mr. Barnes was buying weapons or drugs. The fact she was going by a different name didn’t calm her nerves but he wouldn’t kill her in a public setting. She watched the trees pass by from the window of his car until they reached a big white house which could be certainly considered a mansion.

Mr. Barnes got off his car while the engine was still roaring, handing the key to the valet before opening her door. She looked up at him, blinded by the fairy lights all around the mansion and suddenly she got nervous, very nervous. Nevertheless, she took his help in getting off the car, walking to his left as the valet drove away with his car.

- We’re sticking with Betty? - he asked as they climbed up the stairs to the entry of the mansion.

- We are. - she nodded as he knocked on the door. A poshly dressed man opened the door allowing for her to peak inside. The room was full of people chatting to each other, champagne flutes in hand of roaring laughter. This was definitely different from the environment she was used to back at the club.

Without noticing, she clung to his side as he moved through the seas of people drinking and admiring art work which she guessed was what was being auctioned until they got stopped by a slightly shorter than him man dressed in a black tuxedo.

- Barnes, you made it. I saved some of your favourite pieces for you. - he was happily talking until he noticed Y/N by the mob boss’ side. - Who is this lovely lady?

- This is Betty. - he was an excellent liar, even she would’ve believed her name was Betty.

- Pleasure to meet you, miss. - he curtsied which greatly confused her. - Do you want to come see them? I told my Miriam that the Proserpina paintings would be for Mr. Barnes when we started picking pieces.

The mob boss was sweet on art? She curiously followed them into a badly light room in shades of burgundy and dark browns where several paintings. She observed them with an innocent look as Bucky heard about the prices and its overall worth. Of course they were not going into auction, they had been saved for him and him alone. He was important, stupidly important when compared to these other people. She could hear whispering from other people as he passed by, away from the room through other people.

The man, whose name Y/N still hadn’t really heard, left them in the entrance with everyone else, two champagne flutes immediately making their way to them. Yet, she still didn’t know exactly what to do. What would this be of use to her father? Someone liking art was common, something very common. Once again useless.

- Why did you bring me here if you don’t even need to attend the auction?

- It’s a bad look to appear unaccompanied. Besides, I’d like to see the auction tonight.

- I didn’t know you liked art.

- You thought I’d only like to see people dying, petal? - he spoke in a soft, calm manner but she could see his smirk through his strong facade.

- Look who it is. - Bucky’s face switched into an heavy expression, something Y/N barely saw and didn’t like to see. His arm pulled her behind him as someone dressed in what looked like a taffeta black suit walked up to him accompanied by a black haired woman in a skin tight burgundy dress much more sensual than Y/N’s blush pink flared dress. - James Buchanan Barnes, I thought you didn’t visit this part of town.

- Rumlow, I visit whatever part I want.

- You remember my wife Rachel. - he pointed at the woman nearby him. - I don’t think I remember your friend. Care to introduce us?

- This is Betty. She’s Sharon’s niece.

- Pleasure. There sure are lovely jewellery pieces tonight at auction, aren’t there?

- And I believe I should care about those since I’m a woman. - Y/N gave him a forced smile, earning a scoff from Bucky who was trying not to laugh at her quick wit.

- I’m here to bid on the Elizabeth earrings. They’re a brilliant piece, don’t you think?

- Yes, well ... we should be getting to our seats. - Bucky ignored the request for continuing the conversation, instead holding Y/N’s hand and leading her towards the auction room.

That was an odd conversation, one with underlying feelings of animosity. Maybe coming here was worth it, maybe that name “Rumlow” would be of use to her father. However, it didn’t matter as she was rather exciting to be in her very first auction. Sitting down in gold painted chairs she could see the paddles with several numbers and even the odd gentleman with a monocle.

Bucky looked at her with a faint smile, observing how his world seemed to still entice her as for him it had long its spark a long, long time ago. People kept sitting down and soon enough the auctioneer was on the stage presenting pieces and shouting values of high amounts of money. High enough to pay for the rest of her degree, a masters and a few PhDs but she guessed this was how high society lived.

- Finally, one of tonight’s most special pieces. - the man pointed at a pair of earrings on a glass box. - The Elizabeth earrings are made of white gold with two diamonds taken from The Cullinan diamond, one of the most precious in the world whose siblings belong to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Let’s start at 5 thousand.

Brock raised his paddle.

- 5 thousand, does anyone says 6 thousand?

James rose his own paddle, surprising Y/N. She thought he was only here for the painting.

- 6 thousand, 7 thousand? - Brock once again rose his paddle. - 7 thousand, 8 thousand?

Bucky once again rose his paddle, smirk on his face. He always enjoyed the chase and an auction chase was no exception. Besides, he would love to win those earrings just to piss off Brock Rumlow.

- 8 thousand, 9 thousand? - Brock rose his paddle again. - 9 thousand, 10 thousand?

- 5 hundred thousand. - Bucky spoke out loud and clear for everyone to hear.

- 5 hundred thousand, any higher? - Y/N’s gaze moved over to Brock who kept his paddle neatly in the middle of his lap, an upset expression gracing his face. His face moved to look at Barnes but he didn’t care, holding a winning smile on his lips. - Going once, going twice, going thrice ... Sold to Mr. Barnes. Congratulations.

Bucky didn’t low himself down to look at Rumlow instead getting up once the auction was over. Y/N followed him, curiosity once again getting hold of her and every fibre of hers. She had never seen diamonds in person, much less as precious as these ones were so once she went into the back and saw the woman place them into a red velvet box, she was done for. They placed the box on a nice black matte bag and handed it over to Mr. Barnes along with the certification of authenticity.

The auction after party become boring afterwards, with Rumlow giving Barnes a look no one would like to receive and him having little to no care about it. At around 11PM, the time she would end her shift today, he started to walk away, tipping the valet some money to fetch his car while both of them waited outside. It was a cold night, the wind moaning in slow blows and suddenly she regretted not bringing a jacket.

- You should’ve brought a jacket. - before she could roll her eyes at this comment, she felt something fall onto her shoulders. Looking to the right shoulder, she recognised the navy blue fabric of his suit’s jacket. - Did you enjoy being someone else for the evening?

- I didn’t envision my alter ego being Steve’s girlfriend’s family but I’ll accept it. It was nice, thank you for bringing me.

- My pleasure, Betty. - he joked. - I do prefer your name over Betty.

The valet brought back his beloved car and handed back the keys. It had been a rather fun night, one that surely went above and beyond her expectations. At least she had a name to give to her father, one of a contact that would be willing to speak about Barnes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel absolutely dirty about it. He hadn’t done anything bad to her, anything that would consider her betrayal. He’d hurt people, or at least that’s what her father said. He’d hurt people, but she’d only seen him doing it to those who actually deserved it. It was wrong, it was wrong but she had too.

These thoughts kept her quiet, with eyes on the road. This was bad, this was bad, how was she going to betray him but that was the job. Feel nothing, her father had told her before, feel nothing and don’t get hurt. She didn’t want him to get locked up yet again maybe she was too innocent to see what was really happening.

- We’re here, Y/N. - he killed the engine, stopping in front of the building. - You don’t look alright. Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?

- Oh, no, no. I’m just tired. - she lied. Once again lying.

- I’m sorry for keeping you up this late. I’ll double your night pay too.

- It’s not necessary, Mr. Barnes.

- Bucky.

- Pardon?

- Call me Bucky. - he corrected her. - From now on, you can call me Bucky.

- Bucky. - she repeated, a silly smile forming on her face. - Well, goodnight Bucky.

- Goodnight, petal. Don’t forget your bag. - he handed her bag to the young girl before waving his last goodbye.

She stood in the sidewalk, watching his car leave with a silly smile on her face. Why was she even smiling? She should be feeling guilty, not smiley. Yet she was stuck in the middle of those two emotions. She needed to go back to bed, that’s what she needed. She needed to go back to her bed and sleep it through so like every single night, she climbed the stairs up to her flat. Once in front of her old student flat door, she opened her wallet to search for her keys.

Damned keys, always seemed to disappear in the darkness of her bag and as she rummaged through the contents she had been throwing inside her bag over the years. As she kept searching for her keys, something fell from her bag onto the bag.

- Shit. - she mumbled to herself, squatting down to grab what had fallen. Her mouth opened agape as she saw the same velvet blue box from the auction. Looking around and seeing no one around, she opened the box and there they were, the same earrings she had seen on the auction glass along with a note. Maybe Betty will like them. JBB. - I can’t believe it.

Once again, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of mistake. These were 5 hundred thousand dollar pair of earrings for a woman who was wearing a hand me down dress from her mother. Before someone else could see them she shoved them back inside her purse, opening the door to her flat.

- We need to talk.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Feed The Wolves

A/N: your local zoyalai stan neighbor is here yet again for another content but this time it’s for @wafflesandkruge‘s birthday!!! I went way overboard with this ig but the Vincenzo fever we’ve been on for the past two weeks was still strong and the ending still tugs at my heart. So pls have this mess, Tiff, I’m sorry HAHDKLHJAFDS Happy birthday, dearest! 🥺🥺

Word count: 13 874

CW: graphic depictions of violence and gore. Read at your own risk.

The Lantsovs have finally taken their move to overthrow the Brums’ tyranny to the extremities. They thought they already have the upper hand and that the odds are finally on their side. But in a game that two players have nothing and everything to lose, there is always a catch in every move they make, and with it also comes a price.

How far are they willing to take it?

If Nikolai could be proud of one moment, he knew it would be today. One couldn’t just make an easy audience with the head of the Brum Family; usually it would take nearly a week to set up an appointment. Jarl Brum was one of the first men to establish their own Families, along with the Tabans, Lantsovs, and the Morozovas, and he was the most powerful among them.

For now.

When one of the biggest Families was in a war and planning to attack another with the same reputation, it was only necessary to play carefully. Especially going against a cunning opponent like Jarl Brum. Today’s predicament was tricky; one wrong move could cost them the chance. Or worse—their lives. Either way, it was dangerous. But if they didn’t at least try to keep the Brums at bay, it would only be a matter of time before they take over all the cities, including Os Alta. And considering how they handled things, lots of lives could be lost.

There was still another way out of this, but it involved extreme measures and there would be no returning after that. He could only hope he wouldn’t have to settle for that last resort no matter how slim his chances were.

Nikolai snapped the lid of his lighter closed, his loud mind finding solace in the metallic clink it made. His eyes caught on the engraving on the side of the lighter. Consigliere Idiot. He fought a smile. The lighter had been a gift to him by Zoya on his birthday a few years back, and it somehow became his talisman ever since. It was a weird kind of gift at first, with Zoya knowing too well that he didn’t smoke that much. But he still got attached to it.

You never know, it might come in handy when you suddenly have an urge to set some place on fire, was what she had told him.

He scoffed at the memory, and then took a deep breath as he focused on his current situation. The risks of having this meeting turn to the bloodbath Nikolai was expecting were high, and if he were to be honest, winning a fight against the Brums was almost impossible.

But he was never the one to believe in impossible. Only improbable. The one thing he could do now was to put faith on the odds being at their side at the end of the day.

He flicked his lighter open and closed again before checking his watch. The bright numbers glared back at him like a countdown of a time bomb nearing its detonation. 17:48. Twelve minutes.

If his estimate was right, Zoya and her men would have arrived by now and started their raid. But knowing the Lantsov Underboss to be careful and precise, they would need a bit more time. It only meant Nikolai had to continue making small talks with the man to try and see if he could settle a score with the Don without the use of violence. Talking proved to be a bit difficult, though, as the head of the Family was being attentive to focusing on his paperworks rather than Nikolai’s presence.

"The numbers are really unstable in the past two weeks and it's mostly plummeting," said Jarl as his eyes scanned the paper he was holding for the last time. Then with a dramatic sigh, he opened the drawer to his right and put the file inside, plastering a rather fake smile on his lips afterwards. "There's been a lot of visitors."

Nikolai could see right through the man's displeasure. He almost laughed. At least the feeling is mutual. "Tell me about it," he said with a light laugh. "Having your business overrun without any reason sure does something to you."

A shadow crossed the Don's face, but Nikolai only smiled innocently and held his gloved hand out for a handshake, a sort of formal gesture between a Don and a Consigliere before and after every meeting. Anyone lower than the Underboss aren't allowed to touch the head of a Family, and they could only do as much as bow in respect for the Don.

Jarl accepted it reluctantly, his grip firm as if he were contemplating breaking Nikolai’s hand. Nikolai was grateful when the man didn't. Maybe because it wasn't a good sight to have and talk business to a Consigliere with a broken hand.

"A pleasant afternoon, isn't it?" mused Nikolai as he took a sip of the coffee. It tasted good, but not nearly as good as Genya's brew. No poison. Or maybe there was and the effects just weren't kicking in yet. He suddenly wished for the woman's knack on any poison. "The perfect chance to kill time.”

The Brum Don laughed lightly, the sound mildly threatening as if he had just thought of something vile. “Indeed, Consigliere,” he said, leaning back more comfortably in his chair. “Is the coffee good? I apologize if it isn’t, but I do hope the atmosphere is comfortable.”

Nikolai fought a wince. He had been here a few times before. Jarl’s office was ice white—ranging from the walls, floorings, and the ceiling. Even the chair he was sitting on had been white. The only thing that gave another color to the pasty room were the furniture and a few appliances. At least his couches were blood red, and the view of the huge window behind his desk was different in shade. Nikolai was thankful for the change of scenery.

“No, no. Everything is good.” It sounded fake, considering how he despised the man's office. But he shook it off. He tipped the mug up in a toast. “I appreciate it, and thank you for accepting my appointment.” He found it funny and silly, when Jarl’s caporegimes used the term “appointment”. It was as if Nikolai wanted to get his teeth checked by a dentist, and considering how the man’s office looked, maybe it really was one. “I thought it would take me another week to wait for the confirmation.”

“You’re a Lantsov, from the first pioneers of the Families.” Jarl paused, a hint of a sneer appearing on his face. “You needn’t to be delayed.”

There was something the way Jarl spoke that didn’t sit well with Nikolai, like the man knew something he didn’t. A thought crossed his mind, but he shook it off. There was no way Jarl knew about that. Or was it? It was not impossible—the Brum Don had a wide network of informants. Rumor had it that there were a few in Os Alta, the city that the Lantsovs had control over.

Him knowing about Nikolai’s real father would only give him power against them. But then Nikolai still decided to brush it off, though its dangerous possibility still lingered at the back of his mind. It wasn’t the time to think of it. They had to take back the territories that were once theirs, even if they had to do it by brute force. It’s what Zoya would have preferred, anyway.

“That’s good to hear,” said Nikolai with a tight smile.

The man crossed his hands over the table, a glint evident in his eyes. Nikolai didn’t know what to make out of it. “So let’s hear it, Consigliere,” said Jarl. “What brings the Lantsovs here?”

Straight to the point. Nikolai put his mug back to the desk and removed his gloves, exposing his scarred hands. Jarl’s eyes flitted to Nikolai's hands for a moment before looking away, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Nikolai felt a sneer twitch on his lips. Scars weren’t new to people like them—they had new ones very often, depending on the work they were doing that time. It was their brand, and they wear it with pride.

But if people knew the history of the scars you bore, especially when you had gotten it from being the vicious Enforcer who once intimidated the streets of Halmhend, you would have an ace against your enemies. And for Nikolai, he exactly just had that.

“We’re eyeing the areas in Halmhend and Ulensk for expansion,” he said, and he noticed the Brum Don perk up a little from his chair. Now Nikolai had his attention. “I heard that the two properties in those locations require some...changes. Big changes, if I may add. So I would like to propose an offer to buy the property for double its actual value.” He stopped to consider, putting a finger to his chin. "No, wait. Make it triple."

Jarl didn't answer for a while, and his expression was in between being offended and amused. Nikolai wondered if the man thought that his offer was a bluff.

"I think you're quite mistaken, Consigliere," he said mildly, his tone having an underlying disbelief. "We do not place our properties up for purchase or any sort of deal."

The properties you had taken from Families by force, Nikolai wanted to say, but he bit back his tongue. The feel of the lighter in his other hand was enough to ease the sudden flare of anger in his chest. He put on his signature grin to cover it up. "Ah, but I thought your numbers were plummeting for the past two weeks? I think my offer would help the numbers to be friendly and rise up nicely again."

"Is that what your father told you to do?" Jarl asked as he leaned back further into his chair. The look on his face had gone from slightly friendly to threatening. "To try and sway me with money?"

"Don't we all want to be swayed and pampered by money?" countered Nikolai, the grin never leaving his lips. Jarl’s expression only became darker, and it made Nikolai want to goad him more. "Think of the numbers finally rising, Jarl. I know you want that."

"It’s foolish to think that I’d willingly sell properties that we have the ability to look after just quite well, Consigliere.” The Brum Don shook his head with a disappointed expression. “I never thought you would be this desperate.”

This ticked something inside Nikolai, and he found himself suddenly saying, “Is that why you worked with the Radimovs to overthrow our territories?”

There was a tense silence, and the expression on Jarl’s face turned from angry to mildly surprised, like he hadn't expected Nikolai to know about the Brums involvement with the assault. They weren't the only Family with spies stationed in different cities; the Lantsovs had just as much informants as the Brums have, if not a bit less.

Nikolai took the silence as his chance to continue. "Ah, let me make that clear. The Radimovs doing the dirty work and the Brums happening to ‘buy’ the two properties the following day from them. That's pretty much all of it, right? And it's not different from what you did with the Tabans and the Demidovs. And somehow the Morozovas too." He chuckled darkly. "Though it's probably pretty much the Morozovas' payment to your Family for protecting their ass, so I wouldn't really take that into account. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

Jarl’s jaw was set, as if determined not to admit to the accusation. His eyes were hard, but Nikolai could notice the man's hand suddenly fiddling the pen within his reach in tense movements. He has such an obvious tell. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm merely joking, sir. I mean, I am indeed a genius in certain aspects, but I didn’t learn about that information by connecting the dots. I knew about your tactics from an informant," said Nikolai with a kind smile. "We may have been spiraling a bit out of control since the attempted murder of my father, but we're not as stupid as you think."

The Brums had used the Lantsovs’ distraction in prioritizing the Don’s security to their advantage, going as far as making frequent appearances in their properties, and even in Os Alta. One of the instances he couldn’t forget were the three Brum soldiers who had caused disturbance in their bar in Kribirsk, and it stirred up the brewing dispute between their Families.

Nikolai wouldn't even be surprised if the Brums had something to do with the assassination. And if he were to really think of it now, it was most likely possible. The Demidovs weren't that powerful enough to do something as bold as trying to take down one of the most powerful Dons in the country, unless there was a much bigger hand controlling them.

The only Family who had the ability to pull off a stunt like that was the Brums. But knowing them, they always used someone else to do their dirty work for them as they wanted to maintain the 'clean slate' of their name.

They could always put out the fire, but they can never cover up the smoke.

Jarl considered Nikolai for another moment, and then he let out a loud laugh. “I get why Alexander appointed you as Consigliere and not your older brother. A clever boy, you are,” he said. "Can't be fooled easily."

"I'd take that as a compliment, sir," said Nikolai.

He reached over to the mug of coffee again, but his hand suddenly felt stiff and rigid as if something was keeping it from being able to move. Then his vision blurred slightly for a moment before it sharpened again, making him blink.

It took him a second, and a quiet laugh bubbled from his chest. His suspicions were right, then. He gripped the lighter tightly in his hand like it was the only source of his strength. Coffee was the last thing he had expected to have poison in it, and disbelief muddled his mind.

Cheeky bastard, should have put it in brandy or whiskey instead of slandering coffee this way.

Nikolai held the mug with a bit of effort in his outstretched hand, trying not to let his strain show. But when he looked up back to the Don again, there was no denying that he had already noticed Nikolai’s difficulty in moving, and the beginning of a smirk was evident on Jarl’s expression. The knife hidden under the lapel of Nikolai’s coat suddenly felt heavy.

This was going to be a pain to get through again.

"How's your father, Nikolai?" the man asked. Even his voice sounded faraway now. "Is he recovering well?"

"He is. Quite well, I'll say. He might get discharged next week," Nikolai replied before raising the mug to his lips again. It was only when he took another sip of the coffee did he finally recognize the slightest difference in the taste of a purely black coffee. Genya would have scolded him for not recognizing it right away. Cyanide. Cheap. "He sends his regards, by the way."

Jarl smiled. "I appreciate it." He paused, his eyebrows furrowing in mock concern. Nikolai wanted to laugh. "Are you alright? You seem to be looking quite unwell."

Nikolai shrugged, the movement requiring much more effort as he was still adjusting to the toxins in his body. "I'm fine, just a bit stiff. The coffee had a bit of a kick in it."

"Ah, but you did like your coffee without sugar, right?"

"Yeah, makes it more bracing." He gestured to the mug with a nod before placing it back to the desk. A dull tremor shot through him, and he fiddled with the lighter in his hand to keep it from going completely numb. "So, is your answer really a no?"

"You make me laugh, Consigliere. Here you are, alone, wanting to have an appointment to meet with me just to offer some nonsense."

“I wouldn’t actually call it nonsense I would say ultimatum, but that sounds too threatening so I think I’d tone it down for a bit,” said Nikolai, his tone light. He checked his watch. 17:58. Almost there. But then another tremor shot through him, and this time, he wasn’t able to stop a pained groan from tearing in his throat. He raised a finger. “Wait, give me a second.”

Nikolai closed his eyes and breathed deeply, flexing his fingers open and close. This was becoming rather embarrassing for him, to give threats to someone of a much higher rank than him while looking he was about to throw up, but he took his time. After a few more moments, he finally regained his composure. When he looked back up to the Don, Jarl had an amused expression on his face as if he were thinking of Nikolai as a big joke.

"Consider it a friendly warning," Nikolai said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want to spew threats yet when I still haven’t tried to convince you to change your mind.”

Jarl’s expression darkened. "This is a three-hectare property. No one would notice the Lantsov Consigliere not coming out of here."

"Oh, dear me. Are we doing threats now?" Nikolai laughed, or more like wheezed, and shook his head. "Three hectares, you say? So if I burned down this side of the compound, firefighters won't arrive in time, no? Or even just shooting you, I'm pretty sure no one else would hear."

"You're in my compound, Nikolai. My territory."

Nikolai shrugged. "Hasn't stopped me before."

"There are guards patrolling around right outside the hall. They will immediately barge in the moment I hit the alarm."

"Ah, let them. I like that kind of attention. Boosts my ego exponentially." The watch around Nikolai’s wrist beeped softly, and he glanced down at it to confirm that the numbers had already turned to 18:00. "I also did like my coffee without poison, actually. But I appreciate the improvised addition. Cyanide as an alternative to sugar? Genius. Gave a rush of thrill in my blood."

If Nikolai could frame the look of the evident shock on Jarl’s face, he would have made a whole exhibit just for it. People needed to see such a rare sighting of the Brum Don getting caught off guard. The man blinked repeatedly, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing in front of him.

Trust me, this will get useful at some point, Genya's voice echoed in his head. Nikolai silently thanked their caporegime's insistence for him to develop poison immunity. All those days of handling mild paralysis and unconsciousness was worth it.

"Oh, pardon me. Was I being too straightforward with that?" He chuckled lightly. "I can repeat it though. You got me good there, I can already feel it kicking in. But if you wanted to kill me, I think I would prefer a bullet to the brain just to be sure. That's a hundred percent chance I wouldn't walk out of here alive, or just mix in as much cyanide as you have. A sprinkle won’t be enough."

Jarl let out a laugh of his own, but the sound came out nervous instead of threatening. The man was evidently pale and he was now holding the pen so tightly in his fist he could have snapped it in half. "But that would be messy now, wouldn't it?" he said with a grin. Even his smile looked forced. "As you've told me, we don't do the dirty work.

"Hmm, fair. But there would be no thrill at all, would it? Having to hide behind your coffers and let others do the labor? That's icky." Nikolai shook his head. There was another tremor that shot throughout his body, but it was much weaker than the ones before it, and he almost smiled. At least that was over. Bless you, Genya. He leaned forward for a bit, his eyes narrowing curiously. "Do tell me, Jarl. How would it feel when someone else takes over your business by force, and brutally kills your men and innocent workers in the process? They’re not a threat, Jarl. Much less an enemy. Why involve them in the mess? We don’t do that. That is against our principles. But I guess that's never in your book, was it? You just do things that would satisfy your greed and thirst for blood."

“Getting bolder now, aren't we, Consigliere? I would watch that mouth of yours if I were you. Do you think the Lantsovs could handle another loss, especially their Consigliere?” The Brum Don shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. “Who would try to handle things diplomatically?”

It was threat after threat. “That is a good question, sir,” said Nikolai. He flexed his fingers on both hands and put them on his knees. “I know Nazyalensky can be diplomatic if need be. But I also know she prefers to use rather drastic measures than talking. ‘It’s the easier way’, she always says. I would have to agree with her at certain times.”

“Are you implying something?”

Nikolai plastered a grin on his face. “Only the fact that you’d be facing lesser diplomatic meetings with the Lantsovs if I ever not make it out of here alive,” he said. A soft ping resounded, and he took out his phone from his coat pocket. He checked the alert, his grin turning smug and menacing, the kind that people rarely see the Lantsov Consigliere ever did. “And that you’d probably be dealing with it sooner than you thought.”

A look of confusion bloomed on the Don’s face, and then, as if on cue, the telephone on the side of his desk blared, the sound startling Jarl and making him jump slightly on his seat. He looked at it with suspicion. Nikolai wanted to laugh, but he figured that it would be rude. Besides, the whole ordeal wasn’t done yet—a lot could still happen, and he was still reeling from the effects of the poison. But he could already see the odds on their side.

“I would answer that if I were you,” Nikolai said calmly, his fingers finding the lid of his lighter again. He flicked it open and back close. He could still feel the strain in his hand, but at least it he could move it properly again. “It’s probably important.”

Jarl narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s your deal, Consigliere? Why are you really here?”

“Just answer the telephone, sir. Maybe it will give you the answer.”

There was another tense silence. The Brum Don suddenly didn’t look like he was having fun trying to get him cornered. This was the best part for Nikolai, the thrill he always got whenever the upper hand his enemies had against him was suddenly taken away from them and he would watch them crumble slowly and back away until they were the ones cornered instead of him. It was such a satisfying view to watch.

And Nikolai were to look at it now, it was exactly how he wanted it. One didn’t just easily get Jarl Brum on the edge of his seat.

“Well?” Nikolai mused.

The frown on Brum Don’s face only deepened, and then reluctantly, he reached for the telephone and slowly raised the receiver near his ear. A few beats, and then, “Yes?”

Nikolai watched the man’s face pale, his eyes shifting everywhere with the look of evident panic in them. His hand tightened around the receiver until his knuckles were almost white from gripping it too much. There was just so much anger radiating off of him that Nikolai was surprised the Don hadn’t even pointed a gun at him yet.

Then Jarl’s attention snapped to him after a moment, his eyes murderous with every intent to kill. Nikolai returned his look with an innocent grin, and the Don’s jaw was set in complete rage. If were some other person, he knew he would have cowered back in fear. But years trying to prove himself he was worthy to be an official member of the Lantsov family despite his bloodline contributed a lot to the name he had built for himself.

The Demon Prince of Halmhend—the people had whispered his name in both awe and fear. And with each dark and nasty scar and blood he got on his hands, the stronger his reputation grew. He would get the job done, and he would use whatever method he had to, even if it meant having to have a staredown with death himself.

It would take much more than some Don’s murderous look to derail Nikolai from his goal.

He watched patiently as the Don put back the receiver to the cradle, his dark gaze turning from enraged to cold fury, like he had finally accepted whatever was said to him in the call. Jarl stared down at him for another long moment, and Nikolai could practically see the gears in the man’s head working.

“Alright, Consigliere. You made your point.” The Don kept his face expressionless, but his eyes told Nikolai otherwise. “What do you really want?”

Finally. “Stop the unnecessary attacks and killings,” Nikolai said. “You can’t keep that act up and expect the others not to turn against you.”

“No one would dare go against us. We both know that.”

“It’s because we’re still holding back.”

A shadow passed over Jarl’s face, and his expression darkened even more. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” replied Nikolai. He reached up to fix his tie. “If I were to be honest, the Tabans could take you any day. They just don’t choose to. Waste of resources, they say. But really, I understand. It would be too easy for them.”

“The Tabans don’t choose to fight because they’re cowards,” Jarl said with a huff. “Not because they don’t choose to do so.”

Nikolai wrinkled his nose. “Tell that to Madam Makhi’s face, and you’ll see your throat by the end of her sword,” he said. He leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “She keeps a very sharp sword in her office, by the way. And she knows how to use it, so I don’t really suggest going against her.”

Jarl shook his head, the smirk still evident on his lips. “And if I don’t agree to your motion? What can you possibly do with—”

�� “You would find my family retaliating,” Nikolai cut him off, and the Don reared back in mild surprise. “The attacks would continue, and I will let it go on. Don’t try fighting in a war where you’re going to lose.”

The Don didn’t say anything after that. Nikolai gave him a smile, feeling a bit more confident than before that maybe they had driven Jarl Brum into a corner. Then, to his astonishment, Jarl did something entirely beyond his expectation.

He laughed.

And it wasn’t the desperate type but rather a genuinely amused one, like he had just heard the funniest joke that Nikolai could have ever done. Instantly, his grin faded. Jarl Brum was actually laughing. Nikolai could only look back at the Brum Don with utter confusion as uneasiness settled in his gut. The man acted as if he was one step ahead of them, and whatever confidence Nikolai had in himself the moment he stepped inside the man’s office was gone.

“The White Island, huh?” Jarl said through his laughs. He shook his head, dramatically reaching up to wipe the nonexistent tears from his eyes. "That hotel is quite a sight, but its location in Ulensk is utter shit. You can burn it down all you want, I wouldn't mind. You didn't have to hide the fact you would raid it just to make a point."

Dread washed over Nikolai. It felt like this was the real poison taking effect in his system and halted his thoughts completely. How in the saints' name did Jarl know about the raid? Were Tolya and Tamar safe? Which part of the Don's terrified look had been real?

He watched the Brum Don stand from his seat and walked to the drawers behind his desk. He bent down to pull a bottle of wine out along with two glasses, humming happily as he went along. It was a baffling sight to see Jarl’s shift in his demeanor, especially from the perspective of a person who knew their way around manipulating their own emotions.

Was this how he looked like to other people? Awful and terrifying?

"You're a lot silent now, Consigliere," mused Jarl as he poured wine onto the two glasses. He didn't even need to turn around for Nikolai to know that the man was having fun having the upper hand once again. "Did I surprise you?"

Nikolai's hand clenched into a fist to keep it from trembling badly with suppressed fury. It wasn't the right time to act yet. He glared at the Brum Don's back, and with slow, silent movements, he carefully reached for the knife under his lapel and slipped it in the edge of his sleeve. The distress and fear clouding his mind may have been overwhelming enough to make him unable to answer, but he wasn't going to let any chances slide. The Brum Don took his silence as a cue to continue.

"Ah, don't worry. Your guys leading the raid in White Island Hotel is fine," said Jarl with a light laugh. "I didn't put extra security there tonight on purpose. So your guys are probably done turning the place upside down by now." Then he paused, lifting his head up to stare out the glass window in front of him. "It's actually your people who went to the arms factory I'm worried about."

Whatever composure Nikolai had in himself crumbled to nothing. No—

"You're probably wondering how I knew about it. Well, like you, I have my informants too. And that huge shipment of firepower last week? What other reasons did the Lantsovs have to have that kind of shipment aside from going to war? Doesn't need to take a genius to figure that out." Jarl walked back to his desk and placed the other glass of wine he was holding in front of Nikolai. "And what's the most convenient thing to hit during a war? The arms factory and its warehouse. It's only our luck that you sent Nazyalensky to her own demise. I did put more security in that place."

For once, Nikolai didn't have anything to say back. He usually prided himself of being able to make people bow down to his wishes, even if it meant threatening them to the extremes or just simply having a conversation with them.

And yet the mere thought of Zoya in danger was enough to spiral him out of his thoughts.

"I did surprise you now, didn't I?" Jarl chuckled, taking another sip from his glass. "You see, this is what I meant when I said no one dares to go against us. I'm always a step ahead."

Nikolai gritted his teeth, clenching his hands into fists to keep himself from lunging at the Don. "What did you do to her?"

"Do settle down, Consigliere. She's not in danger. Oh, at least not yet. I haven't given them any orders." He paused, frowning as if he had said something wrong. "But that may change in a moment. Unless you do something for me."

"What do you want?"

Jarl raised an eyebrow. "That was fast, I haven't even blinked," he said. "It's quite a sight to see the great Lantsov Consigliere quickly bow down just because his woman is in danger."

"Just say your conditions, Jarl."

"You will agree to sign a contract that would legally make the Lantsovs as the Brums' subsidiary."

Nikolai looked at the Don with utter disbelief like he had just grown another head on his shoulder. Jarl must have been joking. Maybe Zoya was alright and had already handled the situation at Halmhend. Nikolai's irritation suddenly flared. His thinking was becoming too unstable—which wasn't ideal for his current situation. And if he continued to let Jarl’s words get to him, he would certainly lose this fight.

"In fact, it's still quite a generous offer." Jarl tipped his head in respect. "It's for seeing through that coffee I gave you. And even surviving it."

"And what if I don't?" Nikolai asked, voice nearly a hiss.

Jarl smiled. “Then Nazyalensky dies. Very simple.”

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

Then as if on cue, Nikolai’s phone rang again, tearing his attention away from wanting to lunge at the Don. He looked at the screen, and it showed a restricted number was trying to make a call. And even though it didn't exactly show who was calling, Nikolai already knew who was on the other line.

"I would answer that if I were you," said Jarl, his tone smug as he repeated Nikolai’s line from earlier. With a confident smile that almost ticked off the last Nikolai’s patience, Jarl added, "It's probably important."

Nikolai looked down at his phone again, thinking that maybe if he stared hard enough at the bright numbers glaring back at him, the call would stop and prove that the Brum Don was just bluffing.

But when it continued to ring, it stabbed fear into his heart. Zoya never called him during an operation, only quick signals and messages.

"Well?" Jarl mused. He took a sip from his own glass and raised an eyebrow. "Nazyalensky won't wait all night."

The urge to act upon his anger was now stronger than his will to keep on a neutral face, and yet Nikolai still held back. He wouldn't do anything unless he was sure he had every reason to.

But the mention of Zoya's name from this despicable man's lips was making it hard to keep himself from killing the Don.

"If you lay even one finger on her," Nikolai said, voice low with threat, "I will burn every single place you have until the flames reach you and you will be burning down with them."

A shadow passed on Jarl’s face, but it was gone as soon as Nikolai could blink, and there was the sneer on his face again. "Just answer the call, Consigliere."

Nikolai did what he was told and he swiped the icon to the right. He slowly put the phone to his ear, his gaze never wavering from Jarl.

The other line was quiet, except for the occasional strained breathing in the background. He fought the urge to call out for her name—it wasn't the time to give the Brum Don more leverage against him. So he waited.

Zoya, he pleaded in his mind. Please be alright.

It was a desperate thought, one he hoped that would be true, because he would have to settle for the last resort and the Don wouldn't see another sunrise after tonight.

There was another silence, more ragged breathing. Nikolai's vision was starting to tunnel as he fought for composure, and Don's smirk was only adding fuel to the fire in him that was waiting to be ignited.

A beat, and there was a pained voice that said, "Nikolai—"

Something in Nikolai snapped, and he was suddenly flicking the knife out from his sleeve and then hauled it at Jarl Brum.

It hit the man on his shoulder hard enough for his chair to tip back, and he fell over with a shout. Nikolai shot up from his own chair and slid over the Don's desk, landing on the ground next to the man and kicking the man's arm even before he could reach for the alarm button under the edge of the table. He kept Jarl's arm pinned to the floor with his foot, and when the Don tried to reach for Nikolai's ankle with his other free arm, he pressed his foot harder against the man's arm he was sure he heard a soft crack.

Dizziness hit nim like a tidal wave that almost threw him off balance. His vision swayed. Waiting for his body to adapt to the toxins would still take a bit of time, but he was being driven by his rage that he almost forgot he wasn’t here to kill the Don.

"Did I catch you off guard?" Jarl asked with a strained laugh. "She really is your soft spot, eh? If I had known earlier I would have—"

Nikolai didn’t let him finish and brought his foot down with force, completely breaking the man's wrist. Jarl opened his mouth to let out a scream of pain, but Nikolai's other foot had already hit the Don across face before he could make a sound. Blood dripped from the side of the man's lips, and he spit it out to the side.

“I would watch that mouth of yours if I were you,” Nikolai said. With casual ease, he nudged the handle of the knife with his toe, and it earned another shout from the man. A smirk twitched on his lips at the sound of the Don's agony. There was always something satisfying in hearing your enemies scream in pain. "Not looking so tough now, aren't you, sir? But do scream all you want. Your office is soundproof, isn’t it?"

Despite himself, Jarl still hadn't cowered back in fear. If possible, he only became much angrier than when Nikolai was goading him before. "The Families would know about this assault," he said through gritted teeth. "You're making a big mistake by attacking the Brum Don."

"Am I now?" Nikolai leaned closer, resting his elbow on his bent knee. He reached out his other hand and patted Jarl on the cheek. The man flinched under his touch. "And 'Brum Don'? All I see is a dead man."

Jarl’s eyes widened in fear. "You won't kill me."

Nikolai huffed lightly. "That's what our enemies in Halmhend used to say." He shrugged, and then reached for the Don’s uninjured arm. "Look where it got them."

With a hard tug on the man’s wrist, Nikolai kicked the desk until it was farther away from Jarl’s reach. He wasn’t taking any chances of the Don trying to sneak and alarm his men to his office. At least not just yet. They had the time for games later. Nikolai dragged Jarl to the wine drawer, throwing him off to the small wooden doors with a resounding thump.

Jarl groaned in pain, and yet it still sounded restrained as if he were keeping himself from making another shout. He was cradling his broken wrist on his lap, shoulder hunched forward enough for him to not show his face.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Don't be shy now, I know you want to shout," he said as he grabbed the Don's fallen chair, standing it upright again and pulling it in front of Jarl before sitting down. He pulled out the lighter from his pocket. "I don't like it when they don't scream in pain."

There was no answer for a long moment, with the Don still in his hunched position. Nikolai eyed him sideways. The man's shoulders were shaking with every breath he drew, and the spot where the knife was lodged continued to leak of blood.

It was new to him to see Jarl Brum in such a vulnerable state. But he was still trying to put up the tough persona a Don should have, and Nikolai was determined to break him slowly. Inflicting immense pain was one of the strengths Nikolai learned in the streets that gave birth to his name.

“Still good, sir?” he asked in mock wonder. “You’re not as strong as I thought.”

The man shot up from his place on the floor, his other arm stretched out as if to reach for Nikolai’s neck, but the Consigliere had already anticipated it. He simply leaned back and grabbed the man by both of his arms. His movements stopped.

Nikolai gave him a sneer. "Courageous," he said with genuine respect. "But still slow."

He kicked the man on the chest, sending him crashing back to the drawers in a heap. Then Nikolai brought his foot down to Jarl’s ankle this time. There was another resounding crack, followed by a howl of pain. He almost smiled.

"Now that's the shout," Nikolai said. He stared down at the Don with pity. Jarl looked incredibly smaller for the Brum Don that terrorized everyone else. It was amusing to see how pain made anyone kneel to its extremities. "I thought your pride would still forbid you to scream. Make it louder for me, yeah? It sounds better."

"What do you want, Lantsov?" Jarl spat as if the name were some poison that stung his mouth. “Or should I say Opjer?”

Nikolai’s jaw ticked in annoyance. He knows too much. "Not 'Consigliere' anymore? I feel sad about that, sir." He bent down and reached for the man's arm, bringing his hand close to him. He opened the lid of his lighter and put one of the Don's fingers in between the edge of the lid and the case. "I'll be brief, which I rarely do as I prefer talking more." He paused. "Call off your men."

Jarl let out a laugh. "Too late for that, Nikolai. But I can almost assume that they're already leaving now that the threat was handled in the—"

Nikolai forced the lid of his lighter close, and the Don screamed in pain. The tip of his finger was set in an odd angle, with blood leaking from the damaged nail. It dripped onto Nikolai’s hand and his wrist, and then to the cuff of his sleeve. He inwardly winced in displeasure. It could be taken care of later.

He kept his expression impassive and moved to another finger. "Call off your men," he repeated.

Jarl’s face was twisted in cold rage, but there was no denying the agony he was under that he was still trying to put up with. When he didn’t answer, Nikolai closed the lighter onto the man’s next finger. Another howl of agony. He moved to another finger.

“Eight remaining fingers, eight remaining chances,” he said. “I will say it again. Call off your men, Jarl. I’m still being generous with giving you chances.”

The man only smirked, and just as Nikolai was about to break off another finger, a loud thump resounded somewhere behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. The doors to Jarl’s office were rattling, almost threatening to come off its hinges. The Don's men had a good way of knocking.

"As I've said," Jarl wheezed, making Nikolai turn back to him, "too late to do that."

Nikolai tsked. "Very well," he said, and then clamped the lid to the man's third finger. He let go of his arm, and Jarl crumpled down to the ground. "A reward for being able to sneak past me."

His men were still trying to barge the doors down, but they were almost succeeding in doing so when Nikolai caught a glimpse of the light outside the hall through the small space by the door that was beginning to grow wider. He turned back to the Don.

"Let's make you a bit more presentable, shall we?" said Nikolai.

He grabbed the man by the collar and forced him to stand before dragging him to the chair. Jarl wheezed in pain as he tried to fight back, but both of his hands were so badly damaged he couldn't make use of them. The Don could only give Nikolai as much as a glare.

He forced the man back down to the chair. "No need to look so angry, sir."

"You won't get out of here alive, Lantsov," growled Jarl. "You are totally outnumbered. My men would—"

"Ah" —Nikolai patted the man on the cheek— "let's not get ahead of our predictions. Let me borrow this for a second." He swiftly pulled out the knife from Jarl’s shoulder. "I'll be right back."

"You and Nazyalensky are goners, Consigliere. Both of you are not going to make it through the night."

"We'll see about that."

Nikolai eyed the still rattling doors, and glanced at the bloodied knife in his hand. He would be at a total disadvantage, he knew, but it was better than having nothing. Besides, he'd had far much worse situations that he got out of, some that involved using bare hands and teeth just to survive.

Tonight wasn't any different either.

He approached the doors just as there was finally the sound of a wood splintering, and he pressed himself against the wall beside the entryway. With a twist of his knife in his hand, he reached up to remove the tie around his neck with his other, letting the ends fall loose onto his shirt. It would only be a hindrance to his movements.

The doors barged open and men in gray overcoats came rushing in. Nikolai tightened his grip around the knife and counted heads. Seven. Jarl should have invited more.

The man nearest to him hadn't noticed him yet, and he took his chance.

Nikolai stepped forward and pushed his knife behind the man's throat.

One.

He immediately pulled the knife out, letting it fly towards the other Soldier to his right. Blood spurted from the man's neck. He crumpled to the ground with a gurgling sound.

A sneer twitched on his lips.

Two.

He started humming. The remaining men finally turned to him with their guns raised, but Nikolai was already on the move. He collided with the third one. His hand closed around the gun barrel and the other to the man's hand, pointing the gun to the other Soldiers.

Nikolai pulled the trigger. It hit the other Soldier on the head.

Three.

He turned a bit to the left and fired twice on the fourth Soldier's chest.

Four.

Nikolai twisted, using the third Soldier as a shield just as the shots erupted. The body convulsed as it took the barrage of bullets. Then the shots stopped, and he pressed the barrel under the man's chin before pulling the trigger.

Five.

He grabbed the gun, aimed over the dead man's shoulder, and fired at the other Soldier. He immediately crumpled on the ground after the bullet went straight through his skull.

Six.

With a push, Nikolai finally let the body fall to the ground. He turned to find the last Soldier, but he wasn't fast enough.

A shot rang out, and pain burst on his ear. He stopped humming and blinked. The remaining Soldier looked at him with a terrified expression, his hand trembling so badly as if he was out enduring the cold winter night. Then he dropped the gun completely and he fell to the ground.

Nikolai approached him slowly, like a predator cornering his prey. The Soldier started to back away. But the tremors quaking his body were too much that he couldn't even move fast enough.

A moment later, Nikolai was hovering above him, with the barrel of the gun pointed at his face, and he immediately raised a hand to protect himself.

"No—"

But Nikolai already pulled the trigger before the Soldier could even plead, and he crumpled to the ground on the pool of blood from the hole in his head.

Seven.

The room went silent again. Nikolai reached a hand up to his ear, feeling the sticky wetness around it along with the sting of pain. When he looked at his hand, his fingers were drenched in blood. He huffed. At least they were able to nick him.

He turned back to Jarl, who was still sitting idly on his office chair, the expression on his face was a mix of horror and bewilderment.

"There'd be more of them in a few moments, right?" Nikolai asked mildly as he went and got his knife from the Soldier's neck. He wiped it at the edge of the Soldier's gray coat, staining it red. Then he put it back behind the lapel of his coat. “How many are there left?”

At the Don’s silence, he scoffed. He walked back to Jarl by the desk, grabbing the man by his collar and forcing him up to his remaining good foot. It’d have to do. An audience was still an audience no matter how few they were, and he wanted Jarl to see every drop of blood shed by his men for everything they had done, and for every life they had ruined.

For hurting Zoya.

Because in the end, he would rather let himself be the one to end all this rather than branding himself as a traitor for selling his own Family out and risking any chances of putting Zoya's life on the line even more. He could only hope Tamar would be able to reach her on time.

There was no turning back from this.

This tyranny had to end tonight, as it would only continue until the point of time where no one could stop them.

It was time to be the monster that he had been once more.

Nikolai dragged Jarl outside the doors of the office. “Let the hunting party start, then.”

---

Zoya struggled against the restraints bounding her hands behind her. But then pain shot up to her side from where a bullet had grazed her during the shootout earlier. She grit her teeth, glaring at the man in front of her. She would definitely break his neck the moment she got free.

The storage room where they had been holding her was guarded with three other men in gray overcoats. They looked stiff and alert, their guns poised readily to aim at her the moment she tried to do something funny. Zoya wanted to laugh. She understood the hostility around her, especially when there's only several of them left in the warehouse.

It was supposed to be much lesser than Zoya had expected—the arms warehouse should have been empty except for a few guards on patrol and a Brum Soldier staying in the upstairs office.

But instead of that, Zoya had walked straight up into a trap instead, with the number of Jarl’s men tripling and they were being led by Ivor Kravchenko, the notorious Brum caporegime known for his brutal tendencies when it came to taking down his enemies.

She had come to think that there might have been a leak of their own plans to orchestrate the simultaneous attacks against the Brums. They had been able to reduce a great number from Jarl’s men, but it cost all the lives of Zoya's men that were with her during the attack. Their blood would forever be on her hands.

The other thing she could hope for now was that Nikolai and the twins were alright on their sides of this predicament.

“You shouldn’t have left your Don’s compound,” she said. It was taking a lot of her remaining strength to speak. "You all left your boss' to the wolf's mercy."

The man, whom Zoya remembered as Ivor and Jarl's notorious caporegime, gave a dark laugh. "A wolf, you say? It doesn't matter, a lone wolf is no match for a whole pack," said the caporegime. "Your Consigliere might even be dead by now. Just like the rest of your men here. Don't get too cheeky now."

Zoya's rage flared, the urge to make the man suffer stronger than before. "You seem to be forgetting that I killed half of your men alone," she said. "You better make sure I don't get out of these bounds because it will be your blood spilled on the ground next."

This seemed to annoy Ivor, making him step forward in haste with a murderous expression on his face. But then he stopped abruptly as if he had just remembered something, and he straightened back up. "I could kill you right now and be done with it, Nazyalensky," he said in a low voice. "But I still just choose not to. It's fun to see the great Lantsov Underboss tied down at the Brums mercy."

"Chose not to, or you're still waiting for your Don to give the order like a good puppy you are?" Zoya said back, savoring the look of new rage on the caporegime's face. She gave him a sharp smile. "It's been an hour since you called my Consigliere and tried to rattle him down. You haven't even heard from Jarl ever since then."

Ivor snarled, and then he was grabbing at Zoya's hair and pulling her head back, his knife suddenly pressed to her cheek. Zoya smirked triumphantly. It was so easy to derail him—the whole Brum Family if possible. They were all bombs that were ready to detonate at any time.

This would be fun when she finally had him under her mercy later. But having to reach that point seemed very difficult and almost next to impossible, especially when there were ropes bounding her hands.

An realization dawned in her head when her eyes trailed down the knife near her face. She just had to make the man drop it somehow.

"Do not test me, Nazyalensky," Ivor growled as he pressed the knife harder to her skin. Zoya felt a trickle of blood run down her face. He traced the blood with the knife point lightly before hovering it to her skin again. "I can be merciless at certain times."

As can I, Ivor. "Suits you, then," said Zoya simply. "I have the freedom to choose when to be merciless. Unlike you, who still has to wait for a go signal from his person before he can bite."

With a growl, Ivor tugged at her hair harder. "Did you know what Jarl told me before I left to go handle the mess you will try to stage here?" he hissed. "He said that the Lantsov Consigliere and Underboss are the ones keeping their Family upright. If they were the ones to go first, they would all crumble, and he planned to do just that." Ivor smiled wickedly, the kind that spoke of a triumph gotten from a dirty play. "Starting with your Consigliere. I wonder how things would be if the Don suddenly decides to get rid of him."

She clenched her fists behind her, her fury burning cold in her blood. Nikolai was a lot smarter than the others give him credit for. There was never a dire situation that he hadn't gone through before—he could always find a way out of anything.

But their current standpoint only struck fear and doubt to Zoya. He was in their enemy's nest, the place where they had the absolute authority on everything. She had been reluctant for him to go alone, and yet he had insisted, saying that he had a plan just in case something went wrong.

And now that there had been a hole in their planned attack, Zoya could only hope that his plan didn't involve him risking his life more than he already did.

She would come and drag him out of hell if needed to.

"I'm pretty sure your Consigliere would run out of ideas at some point," added Ivor thoughtfully. "Tonight might be the time."

You can all dream.

Zoya gave a short laugh, and then she tipped her head back and struck Ivor's nose with her forehead.

The man shouted as he pushed back from her, dropping his knife and putting a hand up to his face. She quickly took the advantage and tipped the chair down sideways. Pain shot up to her side when she hit the floor, and her vision blacked out for a few moments. The blow to her head earlier only added to the dizziness that made her vision spin. But she shook the ache away and her hands felt around for the knife from the floor as the three men were still occupied with coddling their boss.

When she finally grasped the knife handle, she immediately tucked it to the insides of her sleeve before looking back up to Ivor.

Blood seeped through his fingers that were tightly holding his now broken nose, and his face was scrunched up in pain. Zoya felt a laugh bubble from her chest.

"Can't even take a hit, eh?" she called to Ivor, who only glared at her with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Come and train with our men, you'll learn how to brush off a punch to your jaw like it's merely dust."

Ivor let out an angry growl and started to walk his way to her again, but one of his Soldiers stopped him.

"There aren't any orders for us to kill her yet, sir," the Soldier said with finality. He looked a bit younger than the other men, but he had a sway on them that even Ivor stopped to consider his actions. "We should be patient."

Zoya huffed silently. Another well-trained pup, then.

The door to the room suddenly opened, and another one of Jarl’s men appeared by the threshold. "Sir," he said, gesturing outside, "it's urgent."

Ivor sighed in frustration. He gave Zoya another pointed look before turning to one of his men again. "Get her up and keep a close eye on her," he said stiffly, still holding a hand to his nose. "I might finally be allowed to kill her after."

With one last low gaze to Zoya, he stomped off the storage room. She huffed in amusement as she watched the Caporegime's retreating form disappear by the doorway.

"Petty ass," she muttered. But when Ivor's footsteps finally receded, she slid out the knife from her sleeve and started to cut through the ropes.

It was the younger Soldier that moved to lift her chair upright, his movements brusque and rough it made the pain on Zoya's side shoot up again.

"Easy with the moving, will you?" she hissed at the Soldier.

He sneered at her, pushing the chair roughly back down to its feet instead. "Witch," he hissed back, and Zoya had to laugh. The Soldier pointed the gun under her chin. "The only thing keeping me from firing is that the Don didn't want you dead just yet, and we're just waiting for the go signal." He pressed the barrel to her chin harder for emphasis. "Don't get too smug."

Men and their egos. "Sure thing, hon," said Zoya mildly with a shrug.

It seemed to be enough for the Soldier as he put down the gun and started to back off. But then ropes finally cut loose, and a smirk twitched at her lips. She kept her arms behind her and flipped the knife in her hand so that it pointed forward.

"Lapdog," she muttered, making sure the Soldier heard her.

And he did, because he suddenly stopped walking and turned to her again, a look of rage evident on his face. His jaw was set when he reached her again in a few quick strides.

He bent down and grabbed at her face. "What did you say, you—"

His next words came out in a gurgling mess when Zoya's hand shot up and pushed the knife into the man's throat.

She reached for the man's gun with her other hand just as the two other men noticed what was happening. She aimed and fired at the two of them before they could even raise their guns to shoot, and they crumpled to the ground with a thud.

The Soldier clawed at his neck desperately, his movements panicked. Zoya looked at him pitifully before yanking the knife out. The man fell to the ground.

She wiped her bloodied hand and knife to the squirming man's coat for a moment, staining the fabric blood red. His other hand still tried to reach for her ankle, but Zoya merely stepped away.

Then she pointed the gun to the Soldier's face. "For gunning down my men," she said before shooting him in the head.

He slumped to the ground, lifeless. Zoya winced at the sudden sting that pierced her side, and she almost doubled over. She checked her wound. The long line of the bullet graze was still oozing with blood, but much lesser than before. She would have to put up with it for now; she needed to have a talk with Ivor first.

Rushed footsteps echoed outside just as she neared the door. She immediately pressed herself against the wall beside the doorway and waited. A few moments later, the door barged open, and Ivor and another man came rushing in.

They hadn't noticed her yet, and Zoya sprang.

She raised her gun and shot the Soldier in the head. Ivor turned just as she aimed the gun to his thigh and pulled the trigger. He reared back with a shout, and Zoya swiped the gun up and whacked him across the face with the stock. Ivor crashed to the floor.

But when she finally got a closer look at the man's face, she realized it wasn't Ivor at all. The Soldier was only wearing the Caporegime's coat.

Zoya gritted her teeth as she pointed her gun to the man. "Where's Ivor?" she hissed.

He didn’t answer, and it made her anger flare even more. She put her finger closer to the trigger.

"Where—"

A crack of gunshot, and then a flash of excruciating pain on her other side just below her ribs. Zoya backed a few steps, dropping her gun and putting a hand to her side. When she checked on it after a moment, her palm was already covered in red.

"Miss me?" Ivor called out from the door.

Zoya didn’t have the strength to turn completely, and she crashed to the floor. The surroundings blurred into a mess of colors, the sudden flash of lights adding to the swaying of her vision. She put a hand to her wound, and she stifled a groan when another wave pain shot up to her body.

Ivor's figure appeared in her line of vision, his steps slow and deliberate as if he had all the time in the world. Zoya could only do as much as glare at the Caporegime, at the broken nose that had the faint traces of dried blood around it, and hoped for the Saints to give her enough strength to kill the guy right then. But her wishes were ignored and the pain only became worse.

"You think you could get out of my watch that easily?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I thought you were better than this."

"Come closer and I'll show you," Zoya snarled.

"A real tough one, aren't you? Even as you lay dying, you can still make someone cower in fear." Ivor laughed loudly, and it was like the sound of a chair being scraped off a tiled floor. "I had to admit I was impressed on how you got that knife. That was neat."

Zoya blinked. He had known?

As if he had heard her thoughts, Ivor chuckled darkly. "Oh, I did notice. That's why I staged a little dress up with one of my Soldiers here after the phone call. Always did the trick."

"Staged?" Zoya laughed, but it came out as a wheeze instead. "Did you really just use your men as bait just to kill me dramatically?"

"Ten points for Nazyalensky!" Ivor announced before raising his gun and pointing it at the Soldier he had made to wear his coat. "We're busted, unfortunately. Thank you for your service." Then he pulled the trigger.

Zoya winced at the sound of the dead body falling to the ground. She shook her head. "You're mad, Kravchenko."

"That, I am. But you know who's worse?" He bent down a little as if to tell some secret. Then he pointed two fingers at her. "You two." He paused to laugh again, and then he started pacing back and forth.

She took the small distraction to pull the handgun closer to her and hide it under her back. And when he stopped and stared back down at her, she noticed something strange. There was a wild look in his eyes, the deranged kind of glint of a paranoid man.

Ivor waved his gun carelessly in the air. "Oh, don't worry I finally have the order to kill you."

Zoya turned to her bad side slightly, bearing the pain that washed over her again and reaching for the gun she had hidden behind her.

"Worry not, Nazyalensky. You're going to meet your Consigliere soon," said Ivor. "The Don never planned to let your Consigliere get out of there alive, you know. The chance was too good to let it pass. He was a dead man the moment the Don accepted the meeting."

She knew Ivor was trying to get to her head, and she knew better that she shouldn't let it, but it was proving to be difficult when it was Nikolai’s safety being used against her. It was then she remembered this was what Ivor was known for—tormenting his enemies rights before he killed them. But Zoya knew to herself that she would have preferred physical torment than this. She wouldn't even have the chance to know if Nikolai was safe from any danger.

A bittersweet laugh bubbled from her chest. Even in near death circumstances, Nikolai was still her headache. She could only hope he would be able to get through tonight.

Zoya gripped the gun tightly. She wouldn't this man torment her until her last breath. Not without bringing him down with me.

Ivor was seething when he was checking his gun chamber. Something was definitely wrong with him. Had something come up after that phone call?

"This is a payback to your Consigliere for acting stupidly. And for what he's done," he said and he shook his head, fury and annoyance evident on his face. "He's so going to pay for that. I can't wait to kill him myself—" He stopped abruptly and turned back to Zoya. "You'll meet him soon, Nazyalensky. Don't worry, I'll make it—"

With what's left of her strength, Zoya lifted her arm and fired at the Caporegime, emptying the whole gun's whole clip at him. Ivor convulsed with every bullet he took, his eyes wide in shock as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

When the gun only gave a click, Zoya let her arm fall. A triumphant smirk twitched at her lips as she watched Ivor's bewildered expression. His hand fell limp at his side, and he looked down at the holes on his chest.

A scoff tore from his throat, and along with it came blood that leaked from his lips. His expression turned from shocked to angry in a blink. With a shaking hand, he pointed his gun back at her. "You witch—"

There was a crack of gunshot. Zoya closed her eyes and waited for the momentary pain before the end.

But it didn't come.

There was a loud thud, like the sound of a body falling to the floor, and she opened her eyes again.

Ivor lay on the floor, lifeless, his wide, empty eyes still open. Blood started to pool around his body all too quickly.

"Zoya," a familiar voice said.

Through her blurry vision, Zoya could make out a figure of a woman approaching her in rush. Tamar.

She immediately held out her hand, and felt Tamar take it right away. The woman's other hand came to put pressure on her wound. "You're okay," Zoya said. Her breaths were starting to come out in short bursts. "Is Tolya—"

"He's fine, General, you should think of yourself first. Save your breath. You'll be fine." Tamar let go of her hand to pull out her phone. She dialled a number and started speaking to someone, but the words faded into echoes of distorted sounds.

A moment later Zoya heard Tamar's voice again. "Stay with me, Nazyalensky." She clasped at her hand, gripping it tightly as if it would give Zoya enough life again if she held on tighter.

Nikolai, Zoya wanted to ask her. Is he safe?

But the pain and exhaustion were too overwhelming for her to stay awake, and she found her grip on Tamar's hand loosening with every ragged breath she drew.

Have I done enough?

She didn't know.

Be safe, idiot.

She took another breath.

Then everything went dark.

***

Zoya opened her eyes.

Immediately, a dull throb washed over her body that almost made her pass out again, but the gentle touches she felt on her hand kept her anchored down to consciousness. She drew in a shaky breath.

She was still alive. She has survived the ordeal. Tamar and Tolya were safe too and—

Nikolai.

Where was he? Was he alive?

Zoya turned to her right in haste, but she stopped when she spotted a mess of blond hair on her bedside. The grip on her hand tightened, and she felt her eyes sting.

He's okay.

"Hey," she said, voice still rough from sleep.

Nikolai instantly bolted upright. He looked like a mess, with his hair ruffled and the bruises and cuts on his face. There were traces of dried blood on the side of face down to his collar, his coat, and even on the edge of his sleeves. His hands were no different; the skin around his knuckles were torn open and red. But the worse one he got was his left ear—or what was left of it. He was tired and in pain, and yet he only had the look of utter relief and warmth in his eyes when he looked at her and smiled.

There was an unexpected prick in her heart. Zoya wanted to reach out and hold him to her, to tell him that she was glad he was alive, but she couldn’t do anything of those as her body still felt heavy like lead due to the exhaustion and medication.

A tear fell down from his eye, and Nikolai quickly wiped it away with a tired laugh. Then he shifted closer, his hand reaching out to smooth the hair away from her forehead. She closed her eyes and leaned against his touch almost immediately.

“You’re a mess, dear,” he said, his tone light with amusement.

Zoya huffed weakly. “You should see yourself.” She nodded at his state of dress. "It's not you to have your suit ruined like that."

“There’s always a first one, you know.” Nikolai gave her a wink. “Just not the thing I prefered. I can always throw it in the laundry, though.”

“You, doing the laundry? I know you’ll break the washing machine first before you can get anything done,” she said, and Nikolai laughed lightly. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she laced their fingers together. What she expected to be a gentle touch was a trembling grip instead. His hand was badly shaking. Concern washed over her as she looked at him in worry. “Nikolai?”

“I’m fine. I just—” Nikolai stopped. He laughed again, but it sounded more like a sob of relief instead. He shook his head. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered. He still looked like he was about to break any moment, but it was gone in a blink and he put on his signature grin that brightened up his features. “But I guess I didn’t have to worry that much now, yeah?”

Tears stung Zoya’s eyes again, and she smiled ruefully. I almost lost you too. But she covered it up with a smirk. “They can’t get rid of me that easily.”

"I know."

Silence fell around them. It was unusual for her to have a quiet as she was used to hearing all types of noises, whether it be the angry and rising tones during meetings or the gunfire that followed after when the negotiations went wrong. Even at nights, which was supposed to be when everything was in peace, were still haunted by the voices of the people who had died under her jurisdiction, and their blood was on her hands.

Having this moment struck dread to her, because good things, even the smallest ones, always came with a price. And she wasn't entirely sure if she was willing to give up anything.

"Do tell me your thoughts, dearest Zoya," Nikolai said, breaking the silence. He smiled as he continued his ministrations on her hair. "When you're quiet like that, I'm worried that you might be planning someone's death."

Zoya huffed. "How can you be sure that it wasn't your death I was planning?"

Nikolai chuckled. "Please, you can't plan something that's already done," he said in amusement, and then his face fell after a second as if he realized what he just said. He smiled but it was half-hearted than his usual ones. "I like being one step ahead, you know."

"What happened, Nikolai?" she asked softly, not wanting to risk him shying away. Her hand tightened its hold on his. "What did you do?"

"I did what I had to do," he said simply. There was a faraway look in his eyes as he stared down at their joined hands. He rubbed circles around her skin, his touch feather light. "There was no other way."

"Did you—" Zoya stopped. She didn't want to say it. She wanted to believe that if she didn't, it could change the truth. But the defeated look in his eyes only solidified the truth.

“Jarl Brum is dead," Nikolai said. A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he looked back up at her. “He died when his compound had caught on fire due to faulty gas pipes. And the Lantsov Consigliere died with him in the fire. It’s what the people would hear by morning.” He paused, and breathed in deep. Then he smiled his usual grin again. “He put up quite a fight, though. It ruined my suit doing it. What a sad mess.”

Zoya could only stare at him in melancholy. She didn’t even have the heart to answer his joke back. That was their last resort. They both agreed that if things had turned out the worst, he would have to settle with killing the Don. But that was before, when they thought that their plans were foolproof.

I should have known and done better.

Nikolai must have seen the look on her face, because he shook his head gently and his grin turned into a rueful one. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do that to yourself. I don't regret doing anything,” he said. He took her hand in both of his. “He was going to force me to hand over the Lantsovs to them, saying he’ll have you killed if I don’t. It was a deadend. There was no guarantee they won’t hurt you even if I agree. And I was never going to sell us over, anyway.” He paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "I'd rather get hurt a thousand times more than lose you."

A tear finally fell from the side of her eye. If this was the price she had to pay for having this moment with him, she did not want it. She would give up anything else to pay the price. Just not this. Not him.

“So, I guess this is our last night together,” Zoya said, her voice breaking slightly.

His hand reached up to her face and wiped the tear with his thumb. There were also tears clouding his eyes. He nodded gently, the sad smile still on his lips. Zoya leaned in his hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I promise to annoy you to death so you would have enough spite for me to last in a long while.”

Zoya huffed in amusement. She had never hated him so much than she did now. How could he make it sound so easy when he was going to leave? “I already have enough spite to last for the rest of my life.”

Nikolai laughed back. “That’s good to hear.”

Another short silence filled the air, and Zoya looked him over. If it was the last time she would see him, she wanted to bask in the warmth radiating in his eyes and remember all the quirks he had, as if she hadn’t memorized everything about him before.

She lifted her hand slightly, and Nikolai went to hold it back in his. He turned his attention to her forearm, tracing the dark lines of the tattooed dragon on her skin. It felt like he was doing the same, memorizing a distinct feature of her that he would carry with him.

“I’ve always thought this one’s cooler than my wolf one,” he said softly, running his fingers on her skin. “You always get cooler ones than me.”

“Where would you go?” Zoya asked instead.

Nikolai stopped his ministrations, his fingers coming back to lace with hers. “It would be better if no one knew,” he replied solemnly. “Besides, I wouldn’t stay in one place for long.”

Zoya took a deep breath. This was their reality, and she should know better than lament over it. She wasn’t the type to let emotions take over her. But for Nikolai Lantsov, she would always be willing to make an exception.

“Maybe I can mail something from time to time,” he said. “Postcards and pictures, how do you feel about that?”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

Her Consigliere chuckled lightly. “No, I am entirely serious.” He shrugged. “Mail is the safest thing to get something across without the risk of being traced.”

Zoya shook her head with a light laugh. I’d take anything. “Whatever you say, corn salad,” she said, and Nikolai laughed. A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over through her. The medicine must be taking its effects now. No, not yet. A few more minutes. “When do you leave?”

A beat, and then Nikolai said, “Soon.” An amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You don’t have to be so excited.”

“Idiot,” she mumbled. There was a twinge in her chest with the nickname she had of him, knowing that it would be the last time she could tell it to him in person.

Nikolai tightened his hold on her hand, and she felt it trembling again. His eyes were bright with tears when he said, “I’ll miss that nickname.” I’ll miss you, was what never said aloud, but Zoya heard it all the same.

I’ll miss you too. Zoya gave him a small smile. “Just look at the engraving in your lighter, it will remind you.” Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she found her eyes drooping slightly.

Zoya heard him laugh softly, making her blink to shake the drowsiness away. Nikolai reached up to brush at the hair on her forehead again.

“Go get some more rest,” he said. His hand came down to her cheek, and he gently caressed her skin with his thumb. “Don’t fight it, I know you’re still tired.”

"I'm not tired," she grumbled back.

"Whatever you say, dear."

Her eyes were starting to feel too heavy for her to stay awake, but she still fought the drowsiness from taking over so she could still see him for a little more time.

"Go rest," he said again.

Zoya squeezed his hand. She was never the first one to ask. To their world, everything was a trade—you give and take. A request meant a desperate wish, and you should always be willing to pay the price.

But she had already paid for it, and it was only fair if she wished for one final request. Be it a selfish, impossible kind.

"Stay?" she asked. Even just for a moment longer. "You've always made a good bodyguard."

Nikolai smiled softly. I can't, was what his eyes said, and yet, aloud, he still said, "Of course." He tucked the blankets higher to her shoulders, his movements gentle and careful. "Now go back to sleep. I'll be here."

They both knew it was a lie.

Zoya closed her eyes, knowing she couldn't bear seeing him leave, and she'd rather have him do it while she was asleep.

Then he started humming. His shitty, off-tune humming. Her shoulders shook as her body racked with silent sobs, her eyebrows drawn tight together to keep her tears from falling. But they still did, anyway.

She felt him press his lips to her knuckles, and small droplets fall against her skin. She didn't even have to open her eyes to know that it was his tears.

"Good night, Nikolai," Zoya whispered in a shaky tone. Farewell. Be safe.

A short, heavy silence, and she heard him draw a ragged breath. "Good night, Zoya." Goodbye, Zoya.

His voice and the feel of his hand tight in hers were the last things she knew before sleep took over her.

And when Zoya finally slept, she dreamed that she would never have to let him go.

***

News about the death of the Brum Don because of the fire that caught his compound was heard early on the next morning. Television news, radio, newspapers, and even the social media boomed with the word, and it spread like wildfire.

It went even bigger when the Lantsov Consigliere was also reported to have died along the fire, with all the current evidence proving that the fire had been intentional. But none of them pointed to Nikolai. The investigation was still open, and it will probably go on for quite a while. The only thing that lightened the burden on Zoya’s chest was knowing that he was alive. He had known how things would go beforehand, and made sure that none of them ended up implicating the Lantsovs.

Always the well-prepared one.

The chair where Nikolai had sat last night was empty, as if he wasn’t there at all. The only traces left of him was the lingering scent of his perfume and the dip on her bedside where he had laid his arms on as he watched her with all the warmth in his eyes, the same warmth he took with him when he left.

Zoya felt her eyes sting with unwanted tears again as she looked out the window, but this time she didn’t try to keep them from falling. She smiled ruefully, a bittersweet feeling left in her heart. It was probably bad fate that had them cross paths, and it was also what separated them. But either way, it was still what had brought them together. She was thankful for that somehow, even if they only had limited time.

But then it struck her, that it didn’t always have to be fate that should handle things. She was the Lantsov Underboss, the one who drove the saintsforsaken Family out of the mud with the Consigliere. If there was something they were good at, it was handling things their own way and bending the odds to their will.

A near death experience had her questioning herself if she had done enough. She didn’t know the answer by then, but she did now.

I am not done yet.

She wouldn’t give up on Nikolai that easily. Even if it took her years to do it. She would bring him back.

Because she knew he would do the same for her.

I’ll see you again, Nikolai, she vowed. And it wouldn’t be the last.

Zoya would make sure of it.

***

A/N: if you’ve reached this far, please know i appreciate you ;-;

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221bsunsettowers · 3 years

Text

TK/Carlos: I Shake and I Shiver Just to Watch You Breathe

(Takes place during Season 2, Episode 6)

As their car pulled in, Carlos leapt out, churning up dust as he took off running. The minute he spotted the 126, he knew.

Oh. Yep. Love of my life. Following a duffle bag, spray paint and a prayer across an active loaded minefield.

And then TK leapt onto the first circle.

In which Carlos ends up at the minefield right as TK starts his journey across.

Takes place during episode 2x06, because Carlos should be in every episode, and because there was so much potential for Carlos to be there watching TK jump through an active minefield.

CW for a few swear words, panic, anxiety, explosion, fear. No blood, injuries, or medical procedures are described.

Thanks so much to @buddie-buddie who once again was an amazing support system for me to push through the self doubt and just keep writing.

Title from Run by Matt Nathanson and Sugarland

Can also be read on a03

It definitely wasn't a secret to Carlos' coworkers he was in a serious committed relationship with a firefighter from the 126. When he could, TK would stop by the station to bring coffee and a kiss, especially if he knew Carlos was having a hard day, and Carlos was constantly being good-naturedly teased about the apparently epic heart eyes between him and his boyfriend anytime they were on the same call.

If somehow anyone didn't know by that point, the framed picture of him and TK on his desk would have given that one away.

So Carlos found his cell phone pinging over and over in the seconds before the news came over the radio. His fellow officers had tried to warn him what was coming, not that he could take much comfort in that with what he was hearing.

126. Minefield. Two firefighters attempting a rescue.

His partner didn't even hesitate before responding that they were on their way to the site.

As their car pulled in, Carlos leapt out, churning up dust as he took off running. The minute he spotted the 126, he knew.

Oh. Yep. Love of my life. Following a duffle bag, spray paint and a prayer across an active loaded minefield.

And then TK leapt onto the first circle.

Carlos felt that morning's breakfast rising in his throat, battling with his lung's sudden amnesia regarding breathing, and he was doubling over, head swimming, until he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

"We gotcha," Judd's voice rumbled soothingly in his ear, and Carlos suddenly found himself perched on the back of the truck, Tommy's kind eyes meeting his as she reminded him to breathe in and out. The rest of the 126 had pressed closer together, and Carlos felt Paul's shoulder tap reassuringly against his own.

"I--what even--" Shaking his head, Carlos gave up on even trying to ask how they now all found themselves at the scene of this unbelievable situation.

"They needed a medic," Marjan explained softly.

"TK said you guys filled that spot though..." Carlos turned his head to find the eyes of a man who sure as hell looked like a paramedic quickly darting his gaze away. "You son of a bitch," Carlos growled, and that was definitely not a sound he knew he could make, but that bastard stood on this side and TK was on the other, and whose fucking fault was that then.

"Carlos...." Paul's arm was around his chest, gently tugging Carlos back, and Carlos sagged, because that medic was worth nothing and TK was worth everything and wasn't that what really mattered anyway.

And then, as if on cue, explosion.

Smoke shot everywhere, and Carlos felt his knees buckle, and by the time he hit the ground they still couldn't see a damn thing. So he knelt there, holding his breath, trying to will TK's way out of the ashes, and it wasn't until Tommy's radio announced the news that Carlos let out a gasping choke of air.

Rising, Carlos dusted his uniform pants off as the Bomb Squad pulled into view and the injured teenager on the field woke up. He nodded his head at the officers he recognized, tried to smile for his patiently waiting partner, kept his shaking hands concealed inside his pockets and his relieved sobs clenched tight inside his throat. He knocked shoulders with the 126, and he knew they knew him far too well at this point to believe he was fine, but they also knew him well enough to know he was one soft touch away from crumbling.

And TK was suddenly walking towards him, that beautiful sunshine grin quickly shifting into concern as he took in Carlos.

"Los," was all TK got to say before Carlos had his arms around him, hard enough to carry him back against the rear of the engine. Carlos was whimpering, another sound he had no idea he could produce, and TK was holding Carlos together, a tight embrace and soothing murmurs and a kiss to the side of Carlos' jaw.

"Aren't you supposed to be the one shaking here?" Carlos tried to joke, eyes closed as he nosed along TK's hairline, breathing him in.

"Adrenaline crash hasn't happened yet," TK assured him, clutching his fingers in the curls at the nape of Carlos' neck. "Right now I'm worried about you, baby."

"I had to watch that whole thing, Ty," Carlos whispered into TK's skin, the crook of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. "I love you so much and I'm so mad at you."

"I know, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," and TK's hands were clutching at Carlos' back, gripping his uniform tight enough to tear, and Carlos was nodding into TK's shoulder, drawing breath in.

The crew, the Bomb Squad, the kids from the field, everyone was out of sight, blurry visions around the corner from where TK and Carlos now stood. Pulling back slightly, Carlos wiped his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down at their dust-covered shoes.

"TK, just imagine you're standing on the other side of a fence, and there I am, about to enter a field full of, let's say, snipers, to try to save someone who's already been shot. And every time I move I throw a rock, and if that rock misses the nearest sniper, I get shot." Carlos choked out, shaking his head violently. "That's what that felt like for me to watch you on that minefield."

"Please don't ever make me imagine that," TK's voice was shaking, and Carlos met his eyes, saw them tear-filled, saw the way TK's trembling hands reached for him, and he swept TK up in his arms again.

"Please stay safe for me," Carlos whispered back, words settling along their skin as they both nodded in unison, Carlos knowing TK needed the hopeful promise just as much as he did.

"Are you still mad at me?" TK's voice was so quiet, quivering in uncertainty, and Carlos pulled back just enough to cup his boyfriend's face in his hands.

"You saved a kid's life," Carlos said, voice full of awe and so much love as he brought his forehead to bump gently against TK's. "I knew what I was getting into, Tiger, may not have seen a minefield coming, but still."

They both laughed, TK's head doing that adorable little tilt to the side, just far enough to lay a kiss on Carlos' palm. "I love you so much," TK promised, wrapping his arms around Carlos' waist, leaning into Carlos' waiting arms.

"I love you so much too," Carlos vowed back, pressing their lips together into a soft, steady kiss. Before stepping back, Carlos murmured, "And you better believe I'll be expecting a full body massage tonight since you just took ten years off my life with that stunt." He grinned as TK blushed, giving him no warning as the rest of the had been extremely patient 126 came barrelling over, and TK ended up in a combination headlock hug tackle.

"See you at home!" TK managed to squeak out from where he was currently pinned. "Love you Carlos!"

"Love you too baby," Carlos grinned, shoulders shaking with laughter as TK's hair was forcibly ruffled by Judd's hand. Turning to his also extremely patient partner, Carlos squeezed her arm gratefully. "I owe you the biggest coffee we can find."

"Oh you owe me at least three giant coffees, Officer Heart Eyes Emoji," she bantered back with a laugh and a smirk.

"New nickname for the win!" Marjan crowed, TK shrugging sheepishly as he emerged from under Mateo's arm.

Laughing as he slid back into the car, Carlos just caught her next words before the door closed. "Oh don't worry, we would never leave you out, the Heart Eyes Emoji Formerly Known as Strand!"

@i-had-bucky @bikingthroughhawkins @officereyes @highqualitykhakis @meloingly

Let me know if you would like to be added to my Tarlos tag!

#9-1-1 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #tk strand x carlos reyes #tk x carlos #carlos reyes x tk strand #carlos x tk #episode 2x06 #minefield #tarlos #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #always more carlos #emotional hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #126 ships them like we do #126 firefam #otp: we make a pretty good team

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symphonicmetal101 · 3 years

Text

Babysitting in the Devildom- Mammon and Levi: MINE! VS ME TOO!

You and Lucifer reached the livingroom, where everyone was supposed to be watching Solomon's magic show.

Supposed to be.

However the only thing that may have resembled a magic show would have been the smoke in the air.

Solomon was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, with a blackened pot of...something. You thanked the stars when you saw that Satan, was in fact not the cause of panic, as Simeon had taken it upon hinself to distract him with more cat videos. Asmo was in the corner, making faces at himself in a mirror you could only assume Solomon had materialized for him. Barbatos was trying to keep Luke calm and Diavolo looked close to tears as he sat on the floor near him. You could hear Beel and Belphie crying from the kitchen, but what concerned you the most were the two little demons quite literally throwing each other across the room.

"That doll is MINE!"

"First of all, she's a figurine, second of all, SHE'S NOT YOURS!"

Leviathan then used his tail to whip Mammon and run to you with what looked to be a plastic Ruri-chan figurine. However, his little legs didn't take him far enough, fast enough, as Mammon used his wings to propel himself forward and tackle Levi to the ground, where they continued to wrestle.

You felt Lucifer shift next to you. Before he was able to say anything to his brothers you knelt down to talk to him again. "Hey Luci. I know you wanted to help me with your brothers, but I need someone who knows how to be a friend. You see Diavolo? He seems kind of nervous being around so many kids he doesn't know. Do you know how you can help him?"

"Of course I do!" He huffed. With his priorities shifted, Lucifer made his way with confidence to Diavolo, as this was all too familiar chaos to him.

Now back to the other two, who were still going at it, however, it was clear Levi was getting tired. Mammon grabbed his wrist.

"Why ya punching yourself, huh? Huh? Why ya punching yourself? Ya see this doll?" Mammon ripped the figurine from Levi's other hand, dangled it in front of him and licked it. "It's MINE now."

"Eww! Levi don't touch it, it has yucky germs now. It has Mammon-cooties!!" Asmo piped up from his little corner.

"Shuddap Asmo! I got the doll now, I got the doll now, it's mine, all MINE!" Mammon danced around gleefully as he waved Ruri-chan through the air. Leviathan retreated to another corner in the room crying.

"What a crybaby! I bet he couldn't ev-"

"Mammon." Your voice rang with a clear warning.

"Uh-oh." Immediately, he started running away from you. You let him run. If he could still do that, then he wasn't badly injured, and Leviathan could be your priority. You gently placed a hand on his back, to which he flinched.

"O-oh, it's just you."

"Are you ok Levi? Did you get hurt?"

"N-no, not really. I just really like Ruri-chan, and Solomon summoned it for me because he told me you used your powers again to help him know what we like but then Mammon came over and tried to take it from me because he wanted to have the biggest toy pile in the universe, but I told him Ruri-chan was not a toy, and he said it looked like a doll and that I don't deserve to have cool toys so I should give it to him and that made me really mad because he does this all the time." Levi took a small, shaky breath. "I'm sorry I'm talking so much. You have better things to do than talk to someone like me.

"Levi, I need you to understand something." He turned so that he could see you a little better, despite having his head on his knees. "What is it?" He whispered, almost aftaid of the answer you would give him. "You are incredible, and I love and appreciate you for who you are. If there's anything you want to talk to me about- good or bad- please do! I love hearing your ideas and I want to help you, ok? Sometimes I might need you to wait a minute, but I will always make the time to listen to you, alright? Also, I can get Solomon to summon some more figurines for you, ok?"

He started crying again. He threw himself at you for a hug. "You're the best!" You held him for a moment before you registered that youstill had to find Mammon, check Beel and Belphie, make sure Lucifer wasn't smothering Diavolo, relieve Barbatos from baby duty, thank Simeon for helping with Satan, and reprimand Solomon for leaving them alone as well as ignoring what you said.

Ok Levi, I'm gonna go talk to Mammon."

"Ok." You stood up, but to your surprise, Levi latched himself to your leg. "If I stay close to you, nobody can spend more time with you than me! Lucifer already got time with you, so I need to have more time than him....even if it means seeing Mammon." You smiled down at him, ruffled his hair, and hobbled over to Barbatos. "Hey Barbatos. Thank you for helping with Luke. I know he can be fussy, I can take him back." Barbatos hesitated. "You know? I kind of like holding the baby. Maybe I can still hold him if I sit down?" You felt a bit of relief as Barbatos situated himself on the couch and reached out to accept Luke again. If he was content with the baby, it gave you two less children to worry about. You glanced over at Diavolo and Lucifer, who had found a deck of cards and were playing a game. They were fine for the time being, so you walked into the kitchen, where Solomon was still trying to make dinner despite the cries of the twins on the floor. You tried to keep yourself calm, as you didn't want to scare the kids by lashing out at the only other caretaker they had.

"Solomon." He stopped stirring the boiling monstrosity he had on the stove and turned to look at you. "What? You were taking a while with Lucifer, so I took the liberty to summon some toys and make dinner. You should be proud of me."

"Excuse me? I gave you very, VERY simple instructions to follow, and because you didn't listen, Mammon and Levi got into a fight, scared Diavolo, and the twins are bawling! Simeon and Barbatos are being more of an adult than you are! And your "dinner" isn't edible, not even by baby Beel standards!" You felt a tug on your pant leg. You hadn't noticed, but the twins had made their way to you, but Levi made it impossible for them to grab the same leg he was on.

Solomon was quiet. You sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. Let's just order some dinner. Also...do you know if the twins are wearing diapers?" Your face contorted in disgust as one of the twins sat on your foot, to which the texture was unpleasant.

"Uh..."

"Great! To make it up to me, you can change them and order dinner. I'm going to go find Mammon."

But I-" you walked away, and headed in the direction Mammon had run, stopping to thank Simeon on the way, and to have Levi readjust hinself on your leg so you could walk faster. You walked for a while, Levi still holding onto your leg. You sighed after about ten minutes of looking. You looked down at Levi. "I guess he'll come back when he's ready, huh?" Levi nodded, then shook his head, leaving you confused. He cleared his throat, tightened his grip on your leg. and whispered, "I have an idea." "I GET TO BE WITH MC AND YOU DON'T! MC'S GONNA GET ME MORE FIGURINES THAN YOU! I GET MORE TIME WITH M-" You were brought down from behind, Levi getting out of the way before you fell on top of him.

"SHUT UP LEVI! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Mammon stood up straight, ready to pounce again in his demon form, while Levi hid behind your recovering form. "MC IS THE COOLEST PERSON WE'VE EVER MET AND YOU MADE THEM ANGRY AT ME! NOW THEY HATE ME, AND LOVE YOU! I ALWAYS GET IN TROUBLE! I ALWAYS DO THE WRONG THING! AND THE ONE PERSON THAT I COULD HAVE TRIED TO BE OK WITH HATES ME! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING LEVI! JUST LIKE ALWAYS, JUst like always..." He choked out the last few words. His eyes were filled with tears he refused to shed in front of Levi. Tiny fists by his side, shoulders raised, and uneven breaths left him as he avoided your eyes. You could feel Levi bristling next to you at the weight of Mammon's accusation. You stood up and ruffled Levi's hair in an attempt to calm him down without using words. He locked eyes with you, and immediately backed down. He hid behind you again, glaring at Mammon, but he wasn't trying to kill him, so you considered it a win. Mammon still wasn't letting himself cry, using his sleeve to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. You knelt in front of Mammon and gently turned his face towards you. He stopped swiping at his tears, letting them finally fall as he held your hand in place on his face. You pulled him in to hug him, which he gladly accepted and buried his face into your shoulder. You gently stroked the back of his head while you held him. You stayed like that for a while before you spoke.

"....Mammon?"

He clung onto your shirt tighter, trying to hide his face even more. He started shaking, so you held him a little tighter, hushing him gently. After a few more minutes, you tried again.

"Mammon." His grip tightened again. "Hun, I'm not going to let you go, I just need you to know I'm not mad at you. I know it's hard for you to share. That's ok! I still think you're "THE GREAT MAMMON!!" Nothing will ever change that. I know that you're a good kid." Mammon hadn't moved at all.

"....why? Why are you being so nice? Even my own brothers think I'm a bad kid. I'm always the bad kid. I don't know why, but I always want more. I don't care what it is, but I always want more and I always end up upsetting everyone. So why even try and be a good kid? Lucifer's the good kid, Levi's the shy kid, Asmo's the cute kid, and the twins are the youngest, so it doesn't matter what they do! And they always tell me I'm dumb and scummy! And I am dumb because I don't even know what scummy means! Even Asmo knows! And he's four! I-....I need a friend. Lucifer is already talking to the cool kid in red, the green hair guy likes babies and I don't want to get close to the baby like the other guy......so guess what? You get to be my friend! You're not allowed to say no!!" You blinked a couple times. Kids are confusing. You weren't quite sure how Mammon had reached that topic after just spilling his guts, but you tried to keep up. You didn't want to bring up his other comments again, worried about making him upset. All you knew was that Mammon needed a protection squad, even if said "squad" was just you alone.

"Of course I'll be your friend! Maybe...maybe the "Great Mammon" will even let me be his best friend?" He pushed away from you, flashing his million dollar smile. "Oh, maybe. I'll have to think about it." Levi cleared his throat behind you. "Hey, I thought I was your best friend!!"

"YOU'VE BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME?!" Mammon yelled. Levi just nodded. He bit his lip, looking unsure of something, then launched himself at Mammon. You were going to intervene, however, the fighting didn't ensue as you had thought. Instead a very emotional Levi had his arms wrapped around his big brother.

"....You know, if you can be nice, I can share my figurines with you. Then we can have the biggest...um..toy pile in the universe....and you're actually a pretty good big brother when you're not taking my stuff. Remember that time you got my comics back from Lucifer? That was really cool. I want to be cool like you, because I know I'm not anywhere near as cool and-" Your hand on his shoulder was enough to settle him down. Mammon was in a state of shock, then started to boast.

"Of course ya wanna be like me! I'm the Great Mammon! And...uh, you're actually not bad.....ok you're pretty cool too. Thanks for giving me another chance."

And audible sigh of relief left your lips as the three of you made your way back to the main area, where everything seemed relatively calm. Simeon was still keeping an eye on Satan, however he had been dealt into the game Diavolo and Lucifer were playing. Lucifer was sitting almost behind Diavolo in order to distance himself from Satan, and waved, smiled and gave a thumbs up when you walked in. You returned the gestures in turn, and checked on Barbatos, who was playing peek-a-boo with Luke. Asmo was still making faces at himself. Mammon and Levi strted playing nicely together with the toys Solomon had summoned for Mammon. You walked into the kitchen to find that Solomon had cleaned it. You found him on the floor "playing" with the twins. He was summoning food almost non-stop for Beel and Belphie was asleep on the floor next to him.

"Oh, hey." Solomon greeted you. "Hey. How's it going?" You plopped down next to Solomon as he summoned another snack for Beel. You watched in amusement as Beel worked his way through a slice of watermelon that was nearly double his size. "It's fine...I'm sorry, I didn't listen to you." You forgave him and just took in the stillness of the moment.

Again, the stillness of the moment.

And then the yell came.

From Asmo.

You turned to Solomon as Asmo's message rang loud and clear.

Oh boy.

Chapter 5

#Ahhhh this is really long I'm sorry #I didn't know how to break it uo #Babysitting in the Devildom #Om brothers #Om side characters #Om mammon #om leviathan #obey me shall we date #obey me

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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