gabriel devillers

casanova || scarlet angels || 28

[gabriel-devillers]

telepcth​:

when: july 15th 2020. where: bechk’s pages who: closed to @gabriel-devillers​

One environment, outside of her family home and the Angel headquarters ( sort of ), she’s grown utterly familiar with is that of Bechk’s Pages. She’s spent hours here in search of additional information she can commit to her memory; in search of another fantasy world she can sink herself into when the reality feels too harsh. There’s no real order to its books, they say, but she likes to think she’s somewhat knowledgeable of the placement of various genres, at least. She knows all the corners, most of its secrets, all of its sounds and smells. Raven knows Bechk’s Pages inside out — which is why she’s quick to notice any changes to its atmosphere.

When the unfamiliar thought source comes within her hearing range, Raven looks up, head turning toward the sound. The person is far more chaotic than Bechk’s usual customers — their wildness standing out like a sore thumb among the rest of them. She closes the book, brows furrowing as she shifts to gain a better hearing of the person’s thoughts and, consequentially, their identity. She doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word; she merely waits in silence as the person walks closer and closer — until he’s close enough that she has no doubts regarding his identity.

“Devillers ?” Her eyebrows raise in tandem with the sudden appearance of genuine surprise in her voice. Out of everyone within their group, he’s one of the few she would’ve never pictured meeting in a place as quiet as this. “What are you doing here?” Raven asks, although a fraction of a second later a feasible explanation crosses her mind. “If it’s Theo you’re looking for, you’re thirty minutes late. They already went back to the mansion.”

.

“that’s me.” he responds almost instantly, stopping in his tracks to turn towards the source of the voice. it’s the black bird herself, with an expression of surprise that is amusing to him. gabriel supposes he can’t blame her - after all, bechk’s pages has never been one of his most common hideouts. only recently has gabriel even tried to visit bechk’s pages when he hasn’t needed to; an attempt to walk in theo’s shoes and take an interest in their interests. she’s spot on with her conclusion, and though it disappoints gabriel, a smile spreads nonetheless.

“caught me red-handed.” he shrugs. though gabriel doesn’t talk about the newfound, confusing feelings he has harbored for theo, he has never bothered to hide it either. it would be an especially fruitless attempt against raven, who he is sure already knows about his curiosity for theo with just one cursory glance towards his thoughts. 

“but i can always find them later.” gabriel plops down next to raven with a sigh. he sticks out like a sore thumb in bechk’s pages, but it doesn’t stop him from settling in comfortably beside her. “i was eventually going to find you too. i heard about what happened. i hope your little threesome’s alright.”

it’s an attempt at a joke on a less-than-amusing subject, but it is backed by genuine well wishes. francesco’s close call reminds gabriel of natalya - once a third to him and alexei. his gaze is temporarily cast downwards at the memory of alexei being inconsolable for an indiscernible amount of time. even now, his brother wears the damage in the form of deep, invisible scars. gabriel would hate to see another angel suffer the same fate.

[zcphyras]

where: the deadly seven when: july 12th; 5:40pm who: @gabriel-devillers

    Before she’d learned to use her hands as weapons - before she was carved with divine purpose under the willful hands of the Scarlet Angels - she was little more than a street rat. Orphaned and abandoned, a vagabond who turned to petty theft and breaking-and-entering to put something in her stomach at night. It’s been a long time that Sofia has had to resort to such old tricks, such base instincts - but that’s what this occasion calls for, doesn’t it? One primal instinct feeds another. That’s how she sneaks into the Deadly Seven today, those skillful fingers recalling an old song-and-dance that feels like a lifetime ago.

    Once she’s inside, she swipes a bottle of vodka and two glasses off the shelf - so meticulously organized, not a speck of dust in sight, and Gabriel’s really outdone himself, hasn’t he? The thought of that brings a smile to her face. He’s never been one to half-ass anything. She knows that from experience. Sofia’s eyes peruse the establishment - this playground of debauchery for a city already so deeply-entrenched in sin - and she ultimately settles in the booth that offers a prime view of both the front entrance and the back entry. Useless, she knows, when he could simply surprise her and appear before her very eyes. She pours two shots, and congratulates herself for such thoughtful generosity.

    When she finally does see him - finally, at last, what the hell took you so long - her voice is sardonic and sarcastic. She pushes one glass towards him. “Welcome home, darling.”

[gabriel-devillers]

doors and locks have lost their value on a man who can so easily cross walls. it doesn’t, however, surprise gabriel in the slightest to see the outline of sofia in what he could consider as a second home at this point. dark eyes indulge first in the woman’s curves to long, crossed legs, before finally resting upon a sharp gaze that is already fixated on him. 

a grin tugs on gabriel’s lips as a shot glass is pushed towards him. “a woman after my own heart, i see.” he teases, knowing full well that what they have overlooks matters of love in favor of something more desperate and dirty. it is but a recent revelation stacked on a foundation of friendship - years of that, until it wasn’t just that anymore. 

“darling?” he laughs, open and wholeheartedly. the sound rings within empty walls. he chooses to lounge on top of the table, looking down at sofia through lidded, wanting eyes. the liquor burns going down his throat, though it matches the heat already emanating from sofia’s beautiful eyes. gabriel sighs, placing the shot glass back down on the surface, cheekily patting his thigh as a suggestion of a seat for her. 

“tell me why it’s cute coming from you.” the lighthearted, gentle tone is effortless in sofia’s presence, even when the atmosphere precedes a more heavy-handed event.

[gabriel-devillers]

[casanova] ↦ [zephyra]

Sofia [on 7/12/20, sent at 1705]: Don't flatter yourself.

Sofia [on 7/12/20, sent at 1705]: Doesn't matter, and besides - talking isn't exactly what I had in mind, love. Meet me at the club in 30.

gabriel [on 07/12/20, sent at 1707]: don't kid yourself. you can't resist me.

gabriel [on 07/12/20, sent at 1707]: now you're speaking my kind of language. think you can even wait that long?

[gabriel-devillers]

i like you better on your knees.

“is that so?” the hum that leaves gabriel’s lips is pensive. their conversation, one ladled in threats and in the murky line between angel and reaper, only gets muddier in the neutral zone of Gray’s. the temporary rivalry between what their organizations stand for is set aside in favor of tantalizing, golden liquor. he can smell it on her tongue as her sharp, demanding, words beckon for his attention. 

“is that what you think of? dream of?” he teases, staring boldly into long eyelashes. crossed forearms are close enough to just barely brush against tanya’s clean fingertips, “for me to submit?”

gabriel leans in then, dangerously close to the lobe of tanya’s earlobe. “for my tongue to trace your inner thighs before i eat you out until you’re quivering?” his words are playful, blunt, and yet they fall like silk ribbons; lubricated by tequila shots. 

“to be so confident in how you like me,” gabriel pauses to chuckle, “when you haven’t experienced anything of what i offer...”

“do you ever shut up?” tanya bites, a smooth hiss that’s spoken for gabriel’s ears alone. 

“you haven’t given me a reason to put my mouth to better use.” he responds, smirking. “ease up on your control issues, princess. admit you like the idea of relinquishing it for a night, and maybe you’d interest me.”

[evilsbitch]

two word starters

“ please don’t ”

“ i’m sorry ”

“ trust me ”

“ fuck off ”

“ don’t go ”

“ please stay ”

“ i tried ”

“ you’re wrong ”

“ you’re right ”

“ i know ”

“ don’t run ”

“ go away ”

“ don’t stop ”

“ it’s hard ”

“ don’t cry ”

“ we can’t ”

“ calm down ”

“ i’m scared ”

“ make me ”

“ wanna bet ? ”

“ run away ”

“ don’t look ”

“ i promise ”

“ try harder ”

“ believe me ”

“ don’t move ”

“ you’re mean ”

“ i’m cold ”

“ you’re beautiful ”

“ hold me ”

“ let me ”

“ come here ”

“ shut up ”

“ fuck off ”

“ it’s complicated ”

“ you’re okay ” 

“ wake up ! “

“ you’re on “

“ i’m pregnant “

“ you’re sick “

“ how long ? “

“ what happened ? “

“ stop it “

[musingmemes]

suggestive starters meme ( nsfw )

why don’t you make me?

i like you better on your knees.

i can think of a few ways to shut you up.

i wonder if you’re as loud in bed as your are everywhere else.

try and stop me.

is that a complaint i hear?

i hope you’re not too fond of that shirt.

why are you siting over there? there’s a perfectly good lap right here.

i thought you liked it when i was bossy.

are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?

i can tell you’re hot and bothered from all the way over here.

i hope you don’t plan on walking much tomorrow.

you’re not the boss of me.

you’re hot when you’re angry.

don’t make me come over there.

i’m this close to taking you over my knee.

you’re being an awfully bad boy/girl.

you know you want it.

you sure talk a big game… but can you live up to it?

i’m not sure you could handle me.

is that a challenge?

[gabriel-devillers]

[casanova] ↦ [zephyra]

Sofia [on 7/12/20, sent at 1700]: Day off? Are you fucking kidding me?

Sofia [on 7/12/20, sent at 1701]: Where are you?

gabriel [on 07/12/20, sent at 1702]: damn girl chill; my day off at the club. it's sunday. only a couple hours apart and you really missed me that much?

gabriel [on 07/12/20, sent at 1703]: you gonna tell me why you're so prickly today or are we just skipping the talking

[gabriel-devillers]

divinepoison​:

.

The crowd couldn’t be controlled, not while everyone moved around and screamed. Tanya had about six people trapped within her illusions, but, as others moved and pushed her, the Orlova heir lost the connection. Creating a passage for her to leave in seemed impossible, so one of her hands grabbed the nearest human and threw them to the side. If everything else failed then she’d have to claw her way to safety. Then, suddenly, her entire body lost its center and Tanya couldn’t differentiate between up and down, left or right. Only the salty, fresh air brought some balance back into her life. Another step would’ve directly sent her into the ice cold water, so she took a few steps back.

Turning around Tanya almost bumped into Gabriel. Of course. “I’m no princess, I don’t need saving,” she protested, but her voice wasn’t as pointed as it normally was. Pressing the tip of her tongue against the corner of her lips Tanya checked him out without shame. Fuck, this wasn’t what she needed right now. Just another challenge, another distraction. Pushing one dagger against his throat, Tanya smirked at the other “I don’t think you’ve earned your reward just yet.” With one eyebrow raised Tanya moved closer, bodies almost flush against one another, “You’re in trouble now. Who’s going to save you?” She teased.

.

“i said you were a princess, not a damsel in distress,” despite the fact that gabriel is clearly conversing with the enemy, the distaste and hatred that normally floods the tone of other scarlet angels is lost on him - even if he is with one of the more unsavory ones. sharp eyes give gabriel a once over, and it almost makes him laugh. he forgets how bold tanya is at times, and if there is anything about her that actually intrigues him, it is how similar the two of them have turned out to be. 

the blade is sharp and cold against gabriel’s neck. he elicits a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed, flat palms slowly rising in a show of submission. however, the casanova’s lips stretch into a wicked grin as the woman’s teasing words hit his neck, hot and quick, her legs and abdomen brushing against his own. 

“i don’t need saving, princess,” he chuckles, his usual snark and bite still ever-present despite the sharp steel daring to dig into his warm skin. “you know it as well as i do that you find me more fun when i’m alive.”

[gabriel-devillers]

vetrovareign​:

.

His voice came from behind her, and Masha had to resist rolling her eyes. Patience is one of her natural virtues, but of all her angels, it’s Gabriel who tests it - a fact she was sure he’d take pride in. “On the contrary”, she replied lightly, turning to face him with a singular arched brow, “I never miss you, Gabriel. I enjoy the peace and quiet.” A half-truth, she had to admit that he was amusing, refreshing in his nonchalance. It seemed unlikely that he was lying (even he should know better than that), so Masha’s disapproving stare lasted only a moment longer before melting into a marginally less disapproving stare. 

Sounds like you need a drink. This time Masha couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. A disrupted festival and vengeance to be planned, it wasn’t the thought of a mojito that had drawn her out to the club. Still, she leant forward onto the bar, eyes following the barman as he jumped a meagre distance of two steps in a blink.  “Give it to me straight,” she replied with a wry smile , nodding towards the bottle if vodka in his hand, “make it a double.”. She didn’t want a drink, but sometimes with Gabriel - with any child - playing along was the best tactic of them all. Besides, she came with a task; orders always went down better when accompanied by a drink. “Pour yourself one,” she added after a pause, pushing herself off the bar and towards a table, shooting him an expectant look, “we’ve got plans to discuss.”

.

“oh, now where’s the fun in lying to yourself?” gabriel grins widely, hopping up to sit against the bar counter. perched upon mahogany wood, he holds her studious gaze with a brazen one of his own. there’s little to no fear whenever the casanova talks with his boss, stemming from a lack of desire to climb the ranks. the odd benefit that blossoms is a strange comfort gabriel shares with masha - or, perhaps, he is just far too comfortable to press the woman’s buttons. 

“yes, ma’am.” he laughs, tipping the bottle to spill high quality liquor into two shot glasses; one seamless motion that is stopped as gabriel places the bottle back on the counter. as the man passes the shot towards masha, he raises a brow when she leaves the bar. he rolls his eyes gently, boldly, and swings his legs over the bartop. gabriel disappears, then re-appears in a wooden chair, teetering on one of the legs. “business and pleasure. my kind of woman. now how can i help you, miss masha?” he says easily, raising the glass towards her.

[gabriel-devillers]

[casanova] ↦ [zephyra]

Sofia [on 07/12/20, sent at 1659]: Busy?

gabriel [on 07/12/20, sent at 1700]: lucky you to find me on my day off. what's up?

[gabriel-devillers]

@divinepoison

when gabriel reaches out to touch her shoulder, it’s out of reflex than it is anything else. recognition is lost on him - he only sees a flash of blonde hair amidst a large, angry crowd, and it is enough for gabriel to sprint towards the woman. he doesn’t need to know who she is to act on instinct or teleporting out of danger. as fingers graze the woman’s arm, they are suddenly blinked out of existence, then rapidly blinked in miles away at the edge of water. 

it’s only as gabriel’s eyes focus on the woman before him that he recognizes just who he’s teleported out of the crowd. “if it isn’t the little reaper princess.” he muses, the tone almost mocking as he straightens. it seems as if this tiger princess has sunk her claws in him - could he blame her - and ever since her first attempt in bedding him, gabriel just hasn’t been able to shake her. if there’s one thing to be entertained by, it is her perseverance; one that mirrors his own in similar adventures. 

“getting yourself in trouble, are you?”

[gabriel-devillers]

vetrovareign​:

WHO: Masha Vetrova & Gabriel ‘Casanova’ Devillers, @gabriel-devillers

WHERE:  The Deadly Seven. 

WHEN: July 3rd, 17:05.

Masha Vetrova pulled over right in front of the entrance to the Deadly Seven. Anyone watching would have marvelled at her grace, noticed the sight of the motorcycle seemingly driving itself. She slid off the bike and walked though the doors with the air of someone who owned the place – which she did. Masha didn’t make a habit of visiting the club, left the business under Ryker’s eye. The dealings of the club were one of the aspects of her job (read life) she didn’t particularly  enjoy, but business was business. And money was money. 

Today though, as she weaved through the still-empty club, her mind wasn’t on the accounts. Her face was as neutral as ever but there was an impatience to her precise footsteps. Two days after an ‘incident’ and this is what she still had to deal with. As if her days weren’t busy enough. “Gabriel”  (she refused to use his codename) she called out sharply as she approached the bar. She cut the music off with a glance at the speaker for good measure, brought the lights up to a level unusual for such a glamorous establishment. She wasn’t sure where he was, but her voice tended to be unmissable. “My festival,” she continued, addressing an empty room as she leant against the bar, “I didn’t see you there. Explain - 10 words or less.” Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if he’d be in attendance, but her all-seeing eyes hadn’t landed on him. Such things had seemed trivial after.. well. But her order of attendance, she thought, had been unambiguous. Things were getting dangerous in Rosnovy - a pawn out of place (even if it was Gabriel) was not only irksome, but potentially detrimental. She shrugged off her jacket,  tap, tap, tapped her booted foot as she waited.

. 

gabriel is first heard before he is seen. laughter rings off the dark walls of the club. to the beat of the bass, the man is grooving as he is wiping down a glass. his lips silently mouth around words that are drifting from the speakers. the grin on his face is easy as he bounces to the music. lidded eyes lift to miss masha’s appearance - if it isn’t obvious enough when his music shuts down.

despite the sudden interruption to such a wonderful vibe, gabriel acts unbothered in the face of his dear leader. “Miss Masha,” he drawls, welcoming her into his space, “i was there. didn’t realize you missed me.” 

the rag snags itself between the bar counter and a palm, and gabriel leans in towards masha. “and it sounds like you need a drink.” he places a clean glass to dry, disappearing and blinking into existence beside the colored, hazy bottles. a hum leaves smooth lips, his thumb tracing stubble, as gabriel examines a vodka bottle in his hand. “what’ll it be, chief? a margarita? mojito?”

[jackson-falahee]

Come on. It’s not like we said that we were exclusive.