As you looked down at the casualties of your city, you sign yet again. “I suppose I haven’t been the best partner these past decades.” You uttered to yourself as you dramatically sat down on the temple, your legs dangling.
Your skin raises as a familiar coldness enshrouds you. Your body’s discards it and goes back to its regular temperature. You smile gently but don’t turn back. “Hello Thanatos.”
“Hello (Y/N), it’s been awhile.” The God of Death looked around. “I certainly didn’t expect the city of refugees to look like this,” he glanced at you, “nor expected it to survive.”
“I have to have tricks up my sleeve every now and then. You know me.”
“Knew.”
You didn’t dare flinch at the words. “Well, thank you for doing your job I suppose.”
“It’s the same old thing. Somebody has to.” Thanatos breathed in as he felt each soul descending with his presence. He had other places to be like always, but he did quite miss his time with you.
“It’s quite ironic isn’t it (Y/N)?”
“Don’t you dare finish whatever you are going to say.” You internally seethed as the hypocrisy that you were slowly becoming aware to.
“I’ll say this, I miss you.” He came up behind and his hand lingered on your shoulder. Thanatos felt a tinge of pain hit his heart when you shrugged him off. “However, I know you’re very much in love with him despite this difficult time. Don’t make the same mistake I made with you.”
You winced at those words. You couldn’t handle losing Ares too. He made you feel a different type of way than anyone else ever could. He had a part of you and you him. You looked over your people and saw them handling themselves.
You needn’t hold their hand for everything. You were a Goddess, not a babysitter. For the most part they took care of themselves so why were you wasting your time with them instead of your supposed husband?
The intense feeling of guilt pooled at your stomach. Your dear Ares must feel so neglected. You rubbed your temples again and sighed loudly.
“Thank y-“ As you turned, your old dear friend was already gone. He had done his job and left. “Well, time to find my beloved.”
________________________________
You stood before your grand shared home. People see Ares as prideful and arrogant, so you would assume the house would be large and grand. On the outside it was with its beautiful marble stature and complimenting staircase to the door.
Yet it was just a mini mansion you two enjoyed. Not as big as the other Gods homes. Ares likes a smaller space that has enough for his foolery. You smiled softly as you thought about how he crashed through the second story trying to prove a pint.
You entered and took a big whiff comfort and warmth. ‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it,’ you smiled bitterly to yourself. You looked around and giggled at the paintings, sculptures, and pictures of you and your dear husband. Such happy simple times. When did you become distant?
Your hands clasped each other’s tightly. You knew he was home, and you knew he knew you were home. “My sweet husband, your darling wife is home!” You called out the old saying you would say every time you came home. When he would come home he would say, “My darling wife, your sweet husband is home!”
Ares was still upset about the whole ordeal, but he would never deny you of your kiss of life and love and tight hug or protection. Or so you would call it. Thinking about it made his heart flutter. He finally walked down to you, and felt all those emotions from he first saw your beauty.
His breath got caught in his throat, his stomach was doing cartwheels, he’s sure he was having heart palpitations. Oh dear, you took his breath away. You were as gorgeous as the first day he met you. You didn’t change one bit.
Ares glided to you and hugged you tightly, dipping you like in those cheesy romcom moments and kissed you passionately. He carefully stood you both whilst your lips danced together. He didn’t want to pull away, but you did first; almost making him whine. Then he saw your eyes that held the sky and universe together.
“As beautiful as ever.” Ares breathed out.
You flushed slightly, “you’re just as charming.”
You couldn’t help but feel giddy being in his arms. His beautiful sunset orange eyes held so much passion and love for you that you felt exposed under it. A certain emotional vulnerability was being shown and felt that you hadn’t experienced in awhile. You did miss your husband during those years after all.
You laid your head on your chest. “I’ve missed you so much, even if I didn’t show it. Carry me to the couch? Somebody wore me out today.”
Ares chuckled as he lifted you with ease just like your wedding day. “Oh did they? Do I have to go and fight them for challenging my lady?”
You playfully swooned at his words and your fingers danced on his face. “You would do that for me?” You batted your eyes up at him innocently.
He carefully sat himself on the couch and adjusted your position to be gently laying on him. “I would do anything for my beautiful wife, anyone who dares strife with her shall have a problem with me.” He started twirling/twisting your hair with his fingers.
“How romantic!” You cheerfully giggled. You let yourself get comfortable and sighed on his chest. “However my dear, you need not strife with such a person. I handled it, you know me.”
“Ah of course of course, you are more than capable of taking yourself. I know.” Ares looked down at you with love. The feelings of bitterness and anger disappeared as you two chatted as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t the one to fight you.
As looked upon him with the same passion in your orbs, you knew that at some point the discussion had to be talked about. You gently rested your hand on his chest as you cuddled deeper into his arms. “Ares...”
“(Y/N)...”
As stubborn as ever. “I-“ you shoved your face into his chest. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was muffled.
“What was that?”
“I’m. Sorry.”
“A little louder.”
“I’m sorry!”
“For what?”
“Ares...”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for, being an uncaring spouse. I didn’t realize how long the time had passed, and I didn’t consider your feelings. I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize how much we had drifted. I still really and care for you, please remember that. And i should’ve-“
Ares shushed you and gently patted your back. “You and your communication skills.”
Although you had no room to pout, you still did. “You’re not the one to talk.”
“Maybe so, but even then. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“We had our fight. Now we are here together.”
“I suppose so.”
“Should we go to my mother for counseling?”
You snorted loudly. “Please.”
“You’re right. We can work it out together.”
Comfortable silence ensued. The both of you reminiscing of old times, how it use to be. When he was your mighty God of War and you were his healing Goddess of Peace. Two peas in pod with delightful season of chaos.
“I really do love you. I promise, from here on out, we will spend more time together.”
“That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve missed you so much.” His arms squeezed you lightly and he buried his nose into your hair. “I’ve missed this.”
You choked back tears. “Oh by the stars, I love you so much.”
Ares hushed you with a soft kiss sealing your fate with him once more.
pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)
blurb: “I’ve fallen in love with you, but you have too many secrets.”
word count: 1.8k+
title inspiration: kill4me - marilyn manson
Before we begin, I wanted to give a special shoutout to @the-darklings for granting me permission to post and write a story inspired by their own work, Children of Ares. Just so you know, Hypnophobia is a completely separate entity and does not exist in nor have any sort of canon relation to COA. I also want to give a quick shoutout to my dear friend, Tati, who has agreed to proofread my drafts for spelling and grammar errors.
This work is cross-posted on AO3.
01 | 02
A December night in Chicago is frigid. The pavement is littered with clusters of salt, melting the layers of ice that had hoped to make a home on the sidewalks and roads. This is a salt ruins leather boots that owners have neglected to protect. A salt that obliterates a pair of cheap shoes before winter concludes, before spring peaks her head between the gray clouds. When the snow falls, it blankets the drab, cold cement with an even colder white blanket. The snow buries the cars on the streets, the entrances to apartment complexes, and the sparse shrubbery meant to break the monotony. It buries the wooden platforms of the train stations that have yet to receive an overdue upgrade to concrete. Stations that are located in areas that the city does not care to fix.
Even with all of the cold, the city is still full of life. It is crowded with civilians hustling their way onto the trains, hoping to feel its warmth before their gloved hands are completely numb. People go about their day, rushing to work in the mornings and eager to come home in the evenings. The college students crack open bottles of booze, as soon as the sun sets on Thursdays. And they spend the rest of the weekend stumbling into bars and flirting with anyone willing to glance at them for more than a mere millisecond. The lonely singles are desperate to find someone who can warm their beds. Someone who can distract them for a few hours. Someone who gets them so high that they forget about the Christmas misery and forced cheer permeating the air.
And on this particular night, Beatrix stands on the balcony of a hotel room. Dressed in a black coat, much too large for her frame, and a pair of red stilettos, she examines the city streets below with her chestnut brown eyes. Despite the late hour, there are still groups of people stumbling through the streets and shouting their conversations for all to hear. Just as her eyes settle on a group of drunk women slipping on the ice, a pair of muscular, tanned arms wrap around her waist.
“Come back to bed, bella,” the man whispers into her ear. “It feels lonely without you.”
Beatrix smiles and turns around. She places a hand on the back of his neck and then pulls him down for a quick kiss. “What are you doing out here?” She asks.
Luca is, by far, the most attractive man she has had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. His towering height and dimpled smile, mixed with the perfectly disheveled coffee-colored curls sitting on top of his head, is a combination that could make anyone weak to the knees.
Realizing that the man is dressed only in a pair of boxers and an unbuttoned black shirt, Beatrix pulls him towards her. “You’re going to freeze out here.”
Luca chuckles. “Unfortunately, it appears that a beautiful woman has stolen my coat. Perhaps if she comes back inside, we can both be spared from the cold.”
“Perhaps,” she replies.
The couple leave the balcony, escaping from the ice and the wind chill. Beatrix slips out of her heels and tosses the coat onto an armchair in the corner of the room. She hops back onto the bed, while her lover rummages around in his duffle bag.
“I have a surprise for you,” Luca says.
“Oh?”
He climbs onto the bed next to her and holds out a thin black box. “A gift, to celebrate the occasion.”
Beatrix plucks the box out of his hands. “And what is the occasion?”
“A reunion.”
After throwing another glance and smile at Luca, she focuses her attention to the gift. She pries it open and her eyes focus on a large pear-shaped ruby pendant, resting on a delicate gold chain. “It looks expensive.”
Luca nuzzles his face into the side of her neck. His nose brushes against her dangling gold earrings, a gift from their third liaison, as he moves to place an open-mouth kiss below her ear. “Only the best for my girl.”
Beatrix pulls the necklace out of the box. “And did you get this before or after your business meeting?” She turns to face Luca and quirks an eyebrow.
He pauses. “After.”
“Must have been one hell of a business deal. If it makes you splurge on such a gift for your holiday fling.”
Luca frowns. “Is that what you think you are?”
Beatrix hesitates with her response, shifting her gaze away from his eyes.
The man places his right hand on the side of her neck and pulls her head to lay against his chest. It’s a gesture that feels almost too gentle for somebody whose hands are covered in tattoos of skulls and daggers.
“Tell me what’s wrong, bella.”
“I just,” she sighs. “I want to know who you are, who you really are. What you do. Where the money comes from.” She pulls away from him and starts to cry.
How much more of my time are you going to waste?
“I-I’ve fallen in love with you.” Beatrix tries to wipe the tears off her face, but just ends up smearing the liquid all over her cheeks. “But you have too many secrets.”
He’s too loyal.
Luca reaches out towards her. He pulls her hands away from her face and wipes the tears himself.
“I don’t care if you’re a criminal. I’ll love you no matter what, but I need to know the truth.”
The man sighs. “It’s best if you don’t know anything about my business affairs.”
There’s a deadline.
Beatrix peaks up at Luca through her lashes. His jaw is clenched and there’s a tinge of regret painted in his chocolate eyes.
I know.
“I’ve seen your gun. And your knife. Is your boss, like, a drug dealer?”
He doesn’t respond.
“I think I should go.” Beatrix slides off the bed. She heads for her purse that had been carelessly tossed near the bathroom door.
Luca rushes after her. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads.
Can you turn him?
Beatrix whips around and shoves Luca away from her. “Then tell me who you work for.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
Luca pauses. “I won’t.”
Doubtful.
“I’m leaving.” Beatrix responds. She grabs her purse and unbuckles the clasp.
“I know you’re upset, but I think we can work through this—”
Beatrix reaches inside her purse. When her fingertips brush against the object she’s looking for, she curls her fingers firmly around the metallic handle.
“—I just can’t share this aspect of my life with you. Not yet.”
Terminate him.
Dropping her purse, Beatrix lunges at Luca.
The man stumbles and falls backwards onto the bed. Beatrix jumps on top of him, straddling his waist. Not quite fully alert, he fails to notice when the woman raises the object in her hand. By the time he realizes what is about to happen, it’s too late to stop the dagger plunging into his heart.
Beatrix pulls the blade out of his chest and then slices open his neck. As she sits on his hips, she watches as the pristine white sheets are tainted by a deep crimson liquid. She reaches for his right hand and slips a ring off of his finger. It’s a gold ring. One that identifies him as a notable member of the Camorra.
A few moments later, Beatrix finally climbs off of him. She heads toward the armchair, grabbing her purse along the way. Settling into the seat, she pulls a phone out of her purse and calls one of the three saved contacts.
The line rings twice before the call is answered.
“Hey, you busy?” Beatrix speaks. “My boyfriend hooked me up with some amazing wine, but I accidentally spilled some of it on my white sheets. Would you mind popping by? You’re a genius at fixing this stuff. Plus, I still have plenty of wine to share.”
~ ~ ~
“At least you weren’t lying about the bottle of wine this time.” A woman, Izzy, remarks before taking a sip from her wine glass. Beatrix had met her a couple of years ago, when they were introduced through a mutual friend. Though she had been drawn to the dark-skinned woman’s sharp cheekbones and playful banter, she was more interested in Izzy’s talent for making evidence disappear.
Beatrix hums and takes a sip from her own glass. She shifts her position in the armchair, leaning back and crossing her legs.
“When were you gonna tell me that you were back in town?”
“It’s temporary.”
“Uh huh,” Izzy gestures to the corpse on the bed. “And what is this?”
“The boyfriend.”
“Okay,” Izzy nods. “Is the boyfriend’s departure from the land of the living due to a lovers’ spat? Or are you working?”
Beatrix reveals the faintest hint of a smile, before taking another sip of wine.
Izzy rolls her eyes and approaches the corpse. She leans down for a closer inspection, examining the man’s injuries and the blood pattern on the sheets. “Damn, he was cute. What a shame.” She frowns. “Didn’t put up much of a fight though, did he? I don’t see any defensive wounds. No early signs of bruising.”
A long pause follows the woman’s observations.
“Is he,” Izzy glances over at Beatrix, “Camorra?”
“You’re good with faces. I don’t think you really need to ask, do you?”
Izzy laughs before finishing off her glass of wine. She reaches for the half-empty bottle and pours herself another serving. “You? You were fucking a Camorra man? I thought you despised that organization.”
“A job’s a job, right?”
“You’re joking.”
Beatrix shakes her head.
Izzy frowns. “Someone hired you to hit the Camorra and you took it?”
The pale woman doesn’t respond.
“Jesus,” Izzy approaches her friend and leans against the wall beside her. “Bee, what kind of bullshit have you been roped into now?”
Beatrix downs the rest of wine. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Is the job done?” Izzy’s eyes shift back to Luca. “Was he your target? Some dude that they’ll replace before the sun sets tomorrow?”
“You’re not getting paid enough for that information.”
Izzy pouts.
“I just need you to clean up this mess.” Beatrix stands up and sets down her glass on a nearby table.
Izzy sighs and places her glass next to Beatrix’s. She shrugs off her coat, folds it up neatly, and places it on the table as well. Then she reaches into an oversized bag and pulls out a pair of black latex gloves. Slipping them onto her hands, she rolls back her shoulders and stretches her neck to relieve a minor kink in it. “And here I was hoping to waste some company dime by gossiping on the clock.”
A/N: I’m so sorry that Ares couldn’t make an appearance in this chapter, but she will be showing up in the next chapter, I promise!
If you are intrigued by what you’ve seen, I would really appreciate it if you could reblog this chapter. I literally have 3 followers right now (and one of those followers is me on my main blog), so I would very grateful for any help that gives me more exposure than what I would be able to reach on my own.
This is the first fic I’ve written in like four years, but I’m really excited to explore Beatrix and her position in the John Wick universe. I am hoping to post a new chapter bi-weekly (on Saturdays).
A/N: I’m really glad you guys are enjoying this little series, it means a lot. Enjoy!
Characters: Hades, Ares, mentions of Zeus, and of course, OC (I think I’m leaning towards making her name Damara. Thanks to the lovely anon that suggested it!)
Word Count: 650
"Just...tell him I'm dead or something.." I suggested, hoping it may help Hades out with our little problem. Hades, gave me a look, that I couldn't quite explain. Like he wanted to say something, but he didn't, that look fell and he just shook his head.
"That won't work." He sighed.
I rolled my eyes, and crossed my arms. "Then, just let me go to Olympus. I'll be fine, you'll be there. And..it's not like all of your family is as psycho as Zeus." I explained, trying to put him at ease a bit. But unfortunately, it didn't help much. He just rolled his eyes.
"Have you ever been to an Olympus party?" He asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer. I smirked as I crossed my arms. "Have you?"
He chuckled, he was both annoyed and impressed at my response. "Touche." He sighed with a smile. I nodded, feeling quite proud of myself. He ran his hand through his hair, and let out and exaggerated sigh.
"I just..I know my brother Zeus. He has some kind of ulterior, motive. I know it..Are you sure you wanna do this..?" He asked. I smiled softly. "Hades, you don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine! Plus, I'll get to meet more Gods! How amazing is that?!" I exclaimed. Hades smiled in return.
"Fine, we'll go. But, at least try not to freak out when you're around my family. The last thing they need is an ego boost." He explained, and I promised to keep my cool. Then, he got me ready for an Olympus party. Which, was much harder than it may seem, I had to get dressed in the most beautiful, yet exotic dress I'd ever seen.
I felt, very comfortable in it. Which was surprising to me, I didn't expect to. It hugged my body, and mu many curves, absolutely perfectly. The dress, was a clean white color, but the top of it, glistened with pearls, and it had a gold belt with it, I wore my hair in waves, and a headband, made up of pearls, and small ambrosia flowers.
It was a bit revealing, the skirt of it, on one side, was cut up to my thigh, not to mention the cleavage that I was showing off. I couldn't help but wonder if Hades had did that on purpose. The whole attire was his doing, he just had to snap his fingers to make it happen.
He looked nice too, way nicer than usual, he had my arm linked with his, as soon as we walked in, we were greeted by a rather intimidating man, one I hadn't yet.
"Hades, so glad to see you could make it. And, you brought a friend." He stated, referring to me. His voice was smooth like velvet, and deep too, it sent shivers down my spine.
Hades rolled his eyes. "Yes Ares, for once Zeus invited me. And this embarrassing mortal, is no friend of mine, she is strictly here, because of your father's request for her to be." He replied.
Of course, of all the gods to run into, it just had to be the god of war first.
Ares smirked and looked me up and down. "I can see why. A mortal eh? I wouldn't mind learning more about the human body..if you're interested, you'll know where to find me." He said before pointing to his Olympus throne, which made him all the more intimidating, his throne was made out of human skin.
I cleared my throat, and smiled.
"I'm..good. Thanks." I explained. Ares sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, humans can be so boring. Suit yourself, but don't expect my father Zeus to back don that easy, he'll just take whatever it is he wants from you." Ares smirked before walking off.
Hades rolled his eyes.
"Come with me, we'll find some better company to converse with."
a/n: reader is the goddess of peace and prosperity as well the goddess of wrath
“Ares.” Your booming voice was heard on the soon to be battlefield. “What is your business in my city dear husband?” Your eyes narrowed at the cocky god before you. Your city was protected by you and had always been a peaceful city. Many came there for refugee and was called a sanction city. You were merely stalling by talking to Ares though. You already knew of his plans and prepared your city for such a case.
“Hello dear wife, I’ve come to challenge your land. My people have been hungry for a fight.” Ares grinned sloppily at you. It’s been awhile since you two have had a battle, and he loved testing your patience and peaceful approaches. He loved when you got angry and agitated, it sparked more passion. “What’s the harm of a little fight?”
“Then you are a fool Ares.” You raised your shield and whip. “This is a sanction city, and I forbid you to cause such strife.” You put your chin up and puffed your chest to let him you weren’t backing down.
Ares growled. “How much do these puny humans mean to you?”
“Depends, how much do your fights mean to you?”
Ares didn’t like your answer. It angered him to think you cared so much about your little sanctuary. You haven’t been spending time due to you making sure these people were safe. “So be it.” He put on his helmet and raised his sword.
However, before he could say attack. An array of arrows flew out and started attacking his army. This angered him even further.
“You knew!”
“So I did.” You motioned for another group to attack his from behind. You silently prayed for them to move into the afterlife safely as you saw the bloodshed before you.
Ares grinned however as he saw your face harden. “I love you dear wife.” He prepared his sword. Of course he would never kill you, he just likes to play fight.
“And I, you.” You swiftly ran at him, ignoring the humans fighting each other. You trained your people well with the help of Athena. You weren’t too worried.
The earth shook as you both went to fight. You throw back your ship and landed a hit on his arm, leavin you enoigh time to punch him in the face. You whinced as your hand hit metal, but it didn’t distract you. Your eyes widened as Ares attempted to hit you back but you drew your shield to protect you.
“It seems you being the perfect goddess has slowed down your fighting skills.” He smirked.
“Shut up.” You kicked underneath his legs and you stomped on his arm. You put your weight on that leg and you put your shield close to his face. “You keep getting distracted.”
Ares gave you sweet eyes. You always looked so beautiful on top of him. “I am the violence. I am the sickness. Beg me for forgiveness.” He laughed. “Beg me to not destroy your city.” He motioned towards your walls that were slowly breaking.
You snapped your eyes at your sanction city. You were off guard as Ares threw you on your back. You struggled against him, but the anger rising was dangerous. Your eyes flashed white and you quickly threw him off you as you flew up and right to your city. Your voice booming as you yelled, “I am the people. I am the storm. What’s your excuse for destroying what’s mine!” You appeared right before the people, no longer an invisible goddess.
“She’s here!” A well known general shouted. “Fight more men! Our goddess is here to protect us.”
You smiled at your dear husbands souring face. You’re guessing he wasn’t expecting these turn of events. You fought off some off his people and kept your people safe in turn.
Ares rolled his eyes and flew over to you. He showed his own appearance before the humans. “You never know when to give up.”
“And you never know when to stop.” You whipped him and grabbed his arm with said whip. “You will have to atone for this when this is all over.” You threw him over your shoulder. You saw his men starting to be outnumbered. “And it seems your army have lost.” You turned to the men who were struggling.
“You are all to leave my city. Mark this as your reminder to never mess with my city ever again, no matter who leads you.” You looked at your defeated husband. “This is my land. Now leave.”
The army left while Ares stayed. He knew your people must’ve hated him now but he stuck around to help those who needed help get aid. He carried people, and he handed out water and food. Ares only did this to get brownie points. Even he knew he messed up.
You walked up behind Ares and hugged him. “Go home dear. We have much to talk about.” You felt him stiffened. “Go.”
Ares groaned but listened. He only wanted to play, not make you angry. “Yes my dear wife. May I get a goodbye kiss?”
You rolled your eyes kissed his cheek. You smiled slightly as he beamed then disappeared from your sight. You then sighed when you knew he wasn’t lurking. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What were you gonna do with him? He’s lucky you actually love him, but this wasn’t over.
pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)
blurb: “Loyalty can be rather expensive.”
word count: 2.1k+
title inspiration: game of survival - ruelle
apologies for the incredibly long wait. in mid-july, i moved across the country and immediately got sick due to 3-4 weeks of nearly continuous heatwaves (uncommon for the area i’m living in). my apartment does not have a/c, so all i had was one fan and an unbearable amount of humidity. my apartment was in the high 90s nearly every day, with the low end being.... the low 90s.....
just to note: i am starting graduate studies this monday. i am working on getting an mfa in creative writing, so all of my school-related writing projects will take priority over fanfics.
“You want me to meet with your seller?” Beatrix asks, a request for confirmation that she had not misheard the man.
“You will be accompanying Ares,” Santino clarifies. “She is the one meeting the buyer.”
“You’re not going to meet him yourself?”
The Camorra boss frowns, leaning back into his armchair. “I’ve been asked to return to Naples and I can’t push it back any longer than I already have. I’m entrusting Ares with closing the deal and I want you there for support.”
“Why send me?” The woman says. “Why not send one of your men?”
Santino shrugs. “You know sign language,” he replies.
A simple assignment, really: be the translator.
As the driver eases the car into a stop, Beatrix glances out of the window. Her eyes scan their surroundings, noting the clusters of people showing off their overpriced designer jewelry and the borderline scandalous hemlines of their clothing. The New Yorkers loiter the space outside of a ritzy expensive nightclub, Das Schwein, a club that is embedded into the bottom three levels of the high-rise building.
To get the woman’s attention, Ares reaches out towards Beatrix, brushing her fingertips against the top of her hand. And when Beatrix turns to look at her, Ares pulls her hand away, signing, We are here.
The assassin nods, before opening the door and stepping out of the vehicle. She smooths the sides of her burgundy dress and takes a moment to straighten the plunging neckline. Though the winter chill encourages a splattering of goosebumps to form along her bare arms, it, for the moment, lacks the biting cold that had permeated the Chicago air.
Ares, dressed in a matching suit, takes the lead and approaches the building. Do not speak unprompted, she commands. Do not leave my side.
Falling into step behind the woman, Beatrix nods. “I understand,” she says.
When the bouncer sees the pair approach, he steps aside before waving them through the entrance. Without even acknowledging the man, Ares steps between the doors. She scrutinizes the first floor of the club, scanning over the patrons boozed up with fine liquor, the grinding bodies on the dance floor, and the sloppy touches exchanged between indiscrete temporary lovers in the booths. Her eyes land on a private elevator tucked away in the corner of the room, protected by a couple of guards.
Ares and Beatrix approach them and the guard on the left greets them with a nod of his head. “Mr. Brecher is on the top floor,” he says, pressing a button to open the doors.
Beatrix tenses at his words.
Brecher?
No, it couldn’t be.
He wouldn’t be here, not in New York. Not right now.
Ares enters the elevator and Beatrix steps in beside her. She clicks on the button for the top floor and takes a small step back when the doors slide shut. They ride in silence, undisturbed by the subtle hum of the ascending machine.
But for Beatrix uneasiness fills the silence, floods her senses with a flight response that’s impossible to act upon in this enclosed space. Threads are tugged in the pit of her stomach, snapping as they attempt to suppress the building worry, anxiety, dread.
It could be a coincidence; a different man with a shared surname.
A button dings, signaling their arrival.
When the doors open, Beatrix realizes that this easy job, this simple task of being the translator, is a far more complicated situation. Her eyes land on the silhouette of a person she had hoped to avoid for as long as she could. And her gaze drifts to the left side of his face, confirming his identity with a familiar scar etched into the skin. One that begins just beneath his eye, before curving to slice into the side of his lips.
Matthias Brecher.
Her last thread breaks, drowning Beatrix with a renewed realization that she has spent too much time dancing next to the growing flames. That frequently tempting fate would encourage it to retaliate with the most severe consequences.
The man notices the Camorra woman first. “Ares,” he greets.
She exits the elevator, stepping into the private room.
Matthias shifts his gaze to Beatrix. His eyes flicker with surprise, before an amused grin weaves itself into his features. “Well,” he says, “I wasn’t prepared for quite the surprise.”
“Matthias,” Beatrix acknowledges.
Ares’ footsteps come to a halt and she turns her head to glance back at the other woman. She watches her, studying the assassin’s face for any subtle twitches that would give away her thoughts, betray her motives.
“I didn’t think we would meet again so soon,” the man says.
Beatrix smiles, but the false joy never reaches her eyes. “Perhaps we meet again too soon,” she forces the joke between her lips.
And the words deepen the frown that’s already forming in the corners of Ares’ mouth.
Matthias slides his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks and takes a step closer to Beatrix. He chuckles, “I thought I was having a meeting with Camorra’s people, not Lilith.”
The woman straights her back, lifting her chin just a tad higher off of the ground. “You are having a meeting with Camorra,” she states. “I am here to translate on Ares’ behalf.”
The man hums, pondering over the woman’s response. “But Lilith would never loan you away for something this trivial.” He nudges his head towards Ares, “especially when it involves one party in particular.”
“I wanted a change of pace.”
“Or,” the man leans down, “perhaps the rumors are true. Perhaps Lilith’s favored rosebud has fluttered away with the wind. I’ve found that loyalty is a tough commodity to find,” he whispers, “nowadays.”
“Loyalty can be rather expensive,” Beatrix says.
Matthias takes a step away from the woman, turning to face Ares. “Would you mind if we postpone our meeting, for a just a few minutes?”
Ares narrows her eyes.
“Miss Amsler and I are old acquittances,” he continues. “Conversations with her are always a treat. And I do enjoy splurging on a bit of pleasure before getting into business.” Matthias chuckles, “You never know which job is going to be your last.”
Ares shifts her gaze to meet Beatrix. When the other woman gives her a slight nod of assurance, her eyes dart back to Matthias. She gives him a nonchalant shrug and then retreats to the small bar on the left. She sits down on one of the stools, before gluing her eyes back onto the pair.
“Come, Süsse,” Matthias places the palm of his hand against the small of the woman’s back, directing Beatrix towards the open balcony on the other side of the room. “We have much to discuss.”
When they are just far enough away that Ares is unable to listen to their conversation, Beatrix pulls herself away from Matthias. “You said there are rumors that I’ve been disloyal,” she says. “Did you know that I was working with Santino?”
“It wasn’t my first guess,” he admits. “But I knew you wouldn’t stay with Lilith forever.”
Beatrix frowns.
“I am surprised,” Matthias continues. “The last person I expected you to align yourself with would be such a prominent figure for the Camorra.”
“People have stooped to less for a few extra dollars in their pocket.”
“I’m almost offended,” the man says. “You would choose his company, before committing yourself to someone like Tarasov, or to someone like me?”
“At the time,” Beatrix leans towards the man, “I found this to be a more favorable business opportunity.”
“Must be quite the pay,” Matthias says. “Perhaps I should consider dropping my lifestyle as the boss, huh? Work as one of D’Antonio’s lackeys. After all, you must be swimming in riches. The pay must be good, good enough to convince you to work for the man who told his people to brutally torture and murder your best friend.”
The woman tenses, nails digging themselves into the palms of her hands.
“Tell me how you sleep at night,” he continues, “knowing that you’ve chosen to snuggle up to the devil himself. Do you still think of Evie? Do you hear her screams? Her pleading cries for help?”
Beatrix takes a small step away, increasing the distance between them.
But Matthias inches closer. “Or do you hear the wails of your baby?”
“Fuck you,” Beatrix shoves the man away from her. “Don’t you dare—”
“—No wonder you look so tired.”
The woman scoffs. “Is there a reason why we’re discussing this?”
“Süsse, we’re just having a conversation,” he says. “But if you want a change of topic, let’s talk about Ares.” Matthias smiles, briefly shifting his gaze to the Camorra woman. “She’s your type, no? Deadly, powerful, commands the room, when she wants to. And stuffed full with information that you could sell for quite the pretty penny.”
The man chuckles. “I know you, more than you’d care to admit. You’d never work for Santino, but you would target him, hurt him, cripple him. So, are you going to seduce his right-hand woman? Manipulate her? Convince her to confess all of those valuable secrets?”
“Targeting her would be pointless,” Beatrix says.
“Why? Because she understands the concept of sworn, unfaltering loyalty?”
“Because it would take too long,” she says. “I have no interest in wasting my time with a pointless task.”
Matthias smirks and pulls a phone out of his pocket. His fingers press against the screen, tapping on the buttons, before angling the item towards the woman. “Is that why poor Luca got chopped up into itty bitty pieces?” He taunts. “Because he wouldn’t spill any of Camorra’s dirty secrets? Was he a waste of time?”
Beatrix glances down at the phone, swallowing the nerves brewing in the bottom of her throat. Filling the screen is the image of a body, blood spilling out of appendages that had been sliced into manageable pieces. The body had been placed inside of bathtub, one that Beatrix recognized.
“Izzy may be your friend, but she is still under my employment,” Matthias explains.
“Does she give you documentation on every job she takes?”
“Just for the handful of people I care to keep tabs on,” the man shrugs. “Is your contract for intel or disposal?”
“I think it’s best that I keep that information to myself,” Beatrix says.
“I disagree.” Matthias puts the phone away, before reaching inside of the pocket concealed beneath the jacket of his suit. He pulls out a small circular object, which he holds up, displaying it for Beatrix.
It’s a Marker.
Her Marker.
Beatrix can feel the intensity of Ares’ stare, can feel her processing and examining the situation as it unfolds. And though she wants to look at her, wants to tell Ares that she wants, no, that she needs this conversation to end, she chooses to ignore the Camorra woman. She maintains eye contact with Matthias, determined to not shudder, to not buckle, beneath his gaze.
“You owe me,” he says. “We’ve made an oath, you and I, a blood contract. I’ve completed my end of the bargain, but I still need to cash in on your side.”
Beatrix remains silent.
“Tell me the truth,” Matthias continues. “Which of your many skills have you been hired to perform?”
“What would you do with that information?” She says, “If you sell it to the right buyer, I’ll end up killed, regardless of my answer.”
The man frowns. He raises a hand towards Beatrix and weaves her loose curls between his fingers. “You think so little of me,” he says. His fingers tighten around the hair, and he pulls Beatrix towards him, before shoving her towards the railing at the edge of the balcony.
The assassin gasps when the metal slams against the bottom of her ribcage. Instinct kicks in and her fingers latch onto the rails.
“If I wanted to kill you,” Matthias growls, “there are much more convenient ways for me to do so.” He releases his grip on her hair and takes a step closer. With his chest pressed against her back, he traps her between himself and the metal that is preventing her from tumbling to her death. “I have every intention of using the task you owe me. Ratting you out would be a waste of time and resources. You owe me, Beatrix,” he hisses, “not the other around.”
“Boss,” a man calls.
“What?” Matthias answers, ever so slightly relaxing his stance.
“Do I shoot?”
The man pulls away from the woman, turning towards his henchmen.
When Beatrix turns to see what the man was referring to, her eyes widen at the sight of Ares. All thirteen of Matthias’ men have their weapons trained on the woman, whom has a gun pointed directly at the their leader’s head.
“How fascinating,” Matthias says.
a/n: thank you so much for reading. if you liked what you read, please considering reblogging this chapter. every reblog truly does help a small author like me! but any likes, comments, or other indications that you enjoy this story is also appreciated!
this chapter was meant to be much longer, but i didn’t to split it into two pieces in order to prevent even further delays in getting an update out. the next chapter’s rough draft is over halfway done. if all goes well it will be published before the end of next month.
if you’re interested, you can also follow me for more updates on twitter @ VostaraFics
pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)
blurb: “Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.”
word count: 3.1k+
title inspiration: hold me while you wait - lewis capaldi
[Hanahaki Disease AU] with a small, but significant twist. You might want to grab some tissues because this is, absolutely, the most upsetting thing I’ve written so far. This is not canon to hypnophobia, just involves the same couple!
warning: untethered angst, mentioned sexual content, and implied character death
*This work is cross-posted on AO3.
series masterlist
It starts with a touch, with Beatrix gently wrapping her fingers around Ares’ injured arm. “Let me help you,” she says.
At first, Ares hesitates, unsure of the woman’s intentions.
For Beatrix is still a new addition to her routine, a new member that has much to prove. She may have already pledged her loyalty to Santino, but once she pledged loyalty to Lilith. Beatrix has broken her vows before, and there is no evidence affirming that she won’t do it again if she finds a better deal.
But the woman fights against her resistance, pulling the arm towards her. She sprays disinfectant on the long slice engraved into the skin of Ares’ forearm, before beginning to bandage the wound with a roll of gauze.
“Thanks for the help,” Beatrix says. “That guy really got the jump on me.” With the gauze secured in place, she pulls her hands away from the injured skin.
Her eyes lift to meet Ares and a moment of silence passes between them.
No problem, Ares signs.
~ ~ ~
Beatrix knows that she is being foolish, that her evolving emotional involvement with Ares will never lead to a happy ending. But against her better judgement, she allows herself to be a fool.
Ares is a distraction, one that she’s grown quite fond of. Nights of bruising kisses, breathless pants, and hushed moans are an irresponsibility that grants her a passage to escape the world she’s trapped in. With Ares, she escapes from the lingering suffocation of being under Eli’s control. She suspends her subconscious fear of failure, of the punishment Lilith would distribute whenever she had displeased her. Her thoughts replaced with a flood of colorful butterflies, fluttering in the depths of her mind. It’s dizzying and entrancing, but Beatrix becomes addicted to this feeling. When Ares coaxes her to let go, submit to break the coils building inside of her, she obeys without hesitation. And she’s overcome by the sensation of the exploding stars that consume her.
The beginning of the end is set into motion when Ares undoes the silk fabric restraining Beatrix’s wrists against the metal poles of the headboard. Beatrix looks up at the woman hovering above her, longing to leave more bruises against her swollen lips.
So she reaches towards Ares, pulling her as close as she can to her body. And she meets her lips with a kiss that’s too gentle, too passionate. It’s too revealing, but Beatrix allows her emotions to slip through the cracks, just this once. And she knows that this could be her downfall, that everything she has worked for could unravel. That growing fond of the someone could lead to her failure, her demise, her heartache and betrayal.
But she ignores that; she chooses to live within this moment. To allow herself a rare chance to experience how it feels to be with someone that she yearns for, even through the disguise of lust.
For life isn’t guaranteed beyond this night; for Ares’ lust could fade, leaving her empty and abandoned. Is it not better to grant herself one single indulgence? To quench her desire, her curiosity, before it can bloom.
~ ~ ~
Beatrix develops a cough.
It’s a tiny discomfort, really.
Just an annoying needle, pricking the back of her throat.
She tries to clear it. She gurgles warm salt water. She drinks green tea with honey. But nothing works, and as the weeks progress the cough gets worse.
Do you need a doctor? Ares asks.
Beatrix declines, claiming that it is nothing more than a simple cold. “Santino is stretching me thin,” she says. “I just need a chance to catch up on my sleep.”
It’s a lie.
She can sense that something is wrong, that something is trapped and growing inside of her. It’s something that she can’t dislodge, something she won’t be able to force out of her system.
Ares raises an eyebrow. No more nights together, then?
Beatrix laughs. She glances at their surroundings, making sure that no one is watching them. And with the confirmation that they are alone, she leans towards Ares. “We can still have our fun,” she whispers the words.
Their lips brush against each other.
And Ares smirks in response, before giving the woman a playful bite on her bottom lip.
~ ~ ~
Beatrix lurches forward into an upright position, retching and gasping for air.
The noise startles Ares, whom was sleeping beside her. She reaches a hand towards Beatrix, rubbing it against the curve of her spine.
Between coughs, the woman sputters out the words, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Ares frowns, but continues her soothing motions.
“I’m gonna grab some water,” Beatrix says. She pushes the covers away from her body and climbs out of the bed. The woman can sense Ares’ gaze latched onto her back and she turns to look at her.
You sure you okay? Ares asks.
“Yeah,” Beatrix nods. “I’m fine.”
As she enters the hotel bathroom, she closes the door behind her. Beatrix reaches for a glass cup placed beside the sink and twists the knob for cold water on the faucet. After filling her glass with the cool liquid, she takes a long sip, hoping to settle the aching pain engulfing her throat. Instead, she chokes and falls into another fit of coughing.
The glass slips between her fingers and cracks when it crashes against the marble floor.
But Beatrix doesn’t notice the broken glass, nor does she notice the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Her mind is focused solely on the excruciating pain, on her body’s desperate attempt to rid itself of whatever is lodged deep inside of her throat.
A splotch of crimson distorts the simplicity of the porcelain bowl of the sink.
And Beatrix breathes a sigh of relief and closes her eyes. The discomfort that had been etched into her throat has finally alleviated, giving her a sliver of momentary bliss. She gives herself a few moments to enjoy the sensation of breathing normally, before glancing down at the dark color tainting the simplicity of the pearl colored bathroom.
She expects to see blood.
But she sees a single rose petal.
It can’t be real; it’s impossible. There’s no way she could be so careless, so stupid. She’s just exhausted, overwhelmed by this persistent cough, by her weakened immune system. She must still be asleep, trapped in a nightmare, and she will wake up any moment, any minute now.
With a trembling hand, Beatrix reaches towards the object. And when she touches it, when her fingers brush against the soft material, she knows that she isn’t dreaming. She knows that her recklessness, her impulsive decision pursue desire has marked her. That her exit won’t be sudden, won’t be due to an unforeseen bullet to the back of the head. That, should she live long enough, her demise will be slow, painful. Utterly miserable.
There is a firm knock against the wooden door and Beatrix is quick to hide the petal inside of her fist. The door swings open, revealing Ares, concern etched into her features.
“Everything is fine,” Beatrix says, before the woman can question her. The answer is too quick, too panicked. And she knows that Ares can see right through her, but she does her best to keep herself composed.
~ ~ ~
One petal turns into two.
Three.
Four.
And soon, one petal coughed up at a time, doubles, multiplies.
Beatrix can barely breathe, can barely stand. She can’t focus on her meetings with Santino; she spends her time rushing to the bathroom to hurl petals into ceramic sinks. To flush the evidence down the porcelain bowls of toilets.
You are not getting better. Ares tells her.
But the woman brushes off the concern, insists that she’s fine.
Go to the doctor.
Beatrix sighs.
Please.
“Okay,” she says.
~ ~ ~
Beatrix already knows the diagnosis; she knows long before the words exit the doctor’s lips.
Hanahaki Diease.
Her love is unrequited.
And the petals growing inside of her lungs will eventually kill her, suffocate her.
“It’s progressing quickly,” the doctor says. “The disease has already consumed more than 50% of your lung capacity. I’m afraid that, even if you recover, there will be lingering damage.”
Beatrix stares at them, unable to muster the words that she needs to speak.
“Unfortunately,” they continue, “it’s too late for you to fall out of love with this person. Your first method of treatment is, of course, the natural route. However, you are running out of time, so you will need to act quickly. I suggest that you tell this person how you feel. Be direct, straight-forward about your feelings.
“If all goes well, and the feelings are mutual, you will be able to reverse the progression. It is important that you have this conversation face-to-face. This cure will only work if their requited feelings for you are stated out loud.”
A crack forms, breaking the composure that Beatrix had worked so hard to maintain. She laughs. It’s a desperate, defeated noise. One that does little to disguise the realization of her doom.
“I understand if you need time to process what I’m telling you,” the doctor says. “But we are working against the clock, your condition is accelerating faster than the typical—”
“She’s mute,” Beatrix interrupts.
“I see,” they say. The doctor pauses, taking a moment to type notes into Beatrix’s patient file. “Then your only alternative is surgery. It is an invasive, aggressive method. And in your current condition, it is quite dangerous. I would go in and cut away the infected ares, including the root of the disease. Right now, your chances of surviving the procedure is about 45%. The longer we wait, the higher your risk of death.”
The doctor stops speaking when Beatrix begins to cough.
When the woman pulls her face away from the palms of her hands, five rose petals are nestled against her skin.
“Hanahaki Disease isn’t contagious, but there is no sure way of knowing who is at risk of developing it,” the doctor continues. “On top of the risk for your life, there will be risk for the life of the person you love. Once I remove the root, your feelings for them will disappear. You will never be able to fall back in love with them. If this person happens to return your feelings, there is a possibility that they will also suffer from the disease.”
Beatrix frowns. “It would be impossible for me to save her?”
“This procedure is your only shot at survival, Miss Amsler. As your doctor, I advise you to act quickly,” they sigh. “But I cannot, in good conscience, recommend you do this without first having a discussion with this person. If they are in love with you, they may also need surgery in the future. It is best that you give them a proper warning, so they can be prepared if the worst case scenario does occur.”
“Thank you,” Beatrix says, “for the advice.”
When Ares inquires about the woman’s diagnosis, Beatrix tells her the truth. That an infection has manifested inside of her lungs. That the treatment is easy, simple. But she omits the fact that the easy cure for her illness is outside of her grasp. And the alternative is a path that she will not pursue.
~ ~ ~
It isn’t long before the severity of her condition becomes impossible to hide. Her health deteriorates at a rapid pace, and soon Beatrix is unable to stand for long periods of time. She frequently collapses, consumed by long fits of painful coughing. The woman is almost breathless, barely able to fill her lungs with the bare minimum of oxygen required to keep her going.
You need to go back to the doctor.
“No,” Beatrix says. “I already got my diagnosis.”
They were wrong. Ares says. You need new treatment.
The woman coughs and it’s exhausting. “Nothing will help,” she whispers.
Bullshit. Ares frowns. You are just stubborn.
When Beatrix attempts to respond, she unleashes a new onslaught of coughing. The pain is overwhelming and liquid pools in the corner of her eyes. She feels the petals sliding through her throat. They exit her body and land on the cold stone of the floor beneath her.
“It’s Hanahaki Disease,” Beatrix says.
Ares lowers herself to the ground, sitting in the empty space next to Beatrix. She places a hand beneath the woman’s chin, turning her head to look at her.
Who is the cause?
The truth almost slips out, but Beatrix quenches that instinct. Would it not be more kind, to hide the truth? To spare Ares; to save her from experiencing the guilt, the knowledge, of being the cause for her demise? And what if her affections are returned?
It would be selfish to tell Ares. Selfish to expose her heart, to force Ares to cope with the knowledge that their relationship was cursed from the very beginning. That there exists no solution in which they are both able to live and be together. Because even with the surgery, it would be pure torture for Beatrix to share her feelings, just to have them sliced away, ripped from the confines of her body. And the risk of condemning Ares to share the same fate was nothing more than cruelty.
It would not be fair.
No, it would not be kind.
Ares had not forced Beatrix into falling in love her. Beatrix had done so willingly, had been the pursuer, not the pursued.
Beatrix pulls her gaze away from Ares, focusing her sights on the stone. “Santino,” she says.
But had she not looked away, she would have seen it.
It was there, for just a split-second, painted and unconcealed in Ares’ features.
Heartbreak.
~ ~ ~
With Santino’s permission, Ares takes Beatrix away from their Camorra duties. The pair travel to Germany, locking themselves away inside of a cottage; one that is hidden within the woods of a rural town. It’s a location that Beatrix has escaped to before, a shelter she latched onto when she had first attempted to slip away from Lilith’s grasp.
Though Beatrix is embarrassed by her dependence on the woman, she is thankful that Ares was more than willing to help her. The lack of sufficient oxygen being supplied to her body leaves her weak, unable to do tasks that were once easy, thoughtless.
Just a few months ago, showering with Ares was energetic, fueled by intoxicating kisses and touches that ignited quickening heartbeats. Masked by the noise of running water, Beatrix had allowed herself to be more vocal with her sounds, had allowed Ares to fully experience each response she was coaxing from the woman. But now, bathing has simplified to the two woman laying together inside of the small bathtub.
Their routine is simple.
Ares starts the bath, ensuring that the water’s temperature is warm enough to soothe the aches permanently settled inside of Beatrix’s chest. When the water has filled the tub halfway, Ares carries Beatrix into the bathroom. She helps her undress, before undressing herself. The pair settle themselves into the water, and then Ares washes her hair, her body. She rubs her hands across the woman’s chest, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.
And in those moments, Ares wishes that she could switch places with Beatrix, that she could save her. That she could go back in time and convince Santino to ignore the woman, to refuse her offer to kill Angelo. A life where she hasn’t loved Beatrix, hasn’t known Beatrix, is a sacrifice she could make. A sacrifice she would willing make, if it meant there was a chance of Beatrix never developing this disease. Because she knows that she will never care for someone again, not in the way she’s cared for this woman. And to live the rest of her life without her embrace would be worse than torture from the cruelest of tormentors.
Beatrix leans back, pressing her skin against the woman’s chest.
Ares responds by wrapping her arms around her, embracing Beatrix in a hug that’s too intimate, too revealing of her buried emotions.
Everything is just too overwhelming. Beatrix knows that it’s no longer a matter of months or weeks, that her time left before the disease fully consumes her has been reduced to a number of days. But it’s painful to cry, an exhausting action. It eats away the little amount of air that she can hold in her crowded lungs.
“I lied,” Beatrix whispers.
Ares tightens her grip on the woman’s waist, urging her to continue.
“It was never Santino,” she admits. “It was you. I love you.”
Ares removes her hands from the woman, lifting them out of the water. I love you, she says. And then she pulls Beatrix back into her arms and nudges her nose against the skin of her delicate neck.
Beatrix is never able to speak again.
~ ~ ~
In her last moments, Ares is with her. An oxygen mask is secured in place, but it only delays the inevitable. Still, Beatrix cherishes these few extra moments, this tiny extension of time that she can spend with her lover. They lay together in the bed, covered by a mountain of emerald green blankets.
Even knowing her fate, there is nothing she would have changed. And given the chance, she would do it all over again. Because love was never something she thought she could experience; the concept of love has always felt like a gift that would never be granted. She has done terrible things to those who did not deserve it, has sealed the tragic fate of innocent people. And if this is her punishment, her only chance to repent, she accepts it.
And the truth is that she has been lucky, to survive the consequences of betraying Eli, to survive the wrath of Lilith. She has been lucky to live long, long beyond the day when Angelo had planted a bullet inside of her. Throughout her career, her life, she has come so close to embracing the hand of Death himself. Yet, she has always refused him, choosing to push him away and cling onto the robes of the Angel of Life. But the Angel is tired, tired of her relentless begging, her pleading for another day—just one more.
Beatrix accepts her fate, accepts the pain. And she does so, knowing that unlike her victims, she can spend her last moments within the embrace of someone who loves her, is devoted to her. That this is a luxury she doesn’t deserve, but has been gifted, regardless.
She wraps her fingers around the woman’s hand, pulling it close to her chest.
And she smiles, knowing that their love is requited and Ares will be safe.
a/n: hello! thank you for reading my work. if you like my content, please consider reblogging this piece. it is a simple action that truly helps a small author like me be seen by others. i do also appreciate any likes/comments you are willing to leave.
sorry for being a sad clown and writing this, but i had an idea and i was itching to write it. normal updates for hypnophobia will resume after i’ve settled into my new apartment! so you can expect that in the next 2-3 weeks, depending on when i’m able to set up wifi.
one-shot ficlet taking place after hypnophobia. this work was written before i finished writing the series, so i omitted any details that would reveal what exactly is happening (outside of the relationship between ares and beatrix).
this work is cross-posted on AO3.
series masterlist
She awakens with the sensation of fingertips gliding along the bare skin of pale arms. And she smiles, embracing the comfort, etching the touch into her memory. Clinging to the last threads of unconscious dozing, she barely emits a longing whine when the the contact of flesh is broken. Beatrix buries her face into the ruby satin of the pillowcase. When she inhales, she breathes in the faint scent of leather, the lingering traces of her lover’s cologne.
A body inches closer, to press their chest against her naked back. They wrap an arm around her waist and nuzzle their nose against the back of her neck.
Further removing herself from the state of slumber, her brain turns on the gears, starts the process of comprehending her surroundings. She begins to register the sound of raindrops, splattering against the glass of their secluded bedroom. Exposed skin is chilled from a breeze that slips between the space provided by windows left slightly ajar. And the body behind her, the woman behind her, is stained with the scent of the jasmine perfume that Beatrix had worn the night before.
Full lips are pressed against her skin. They brush along her neck, before migrating down to her shoulder blade. Beatrix moans when she feels teeth sink into her, scratching playful markings on top of her lotus tattoo.
“Ares,” she whispers, a pleading noise escaping her lips.
The woman smiles into her skin. And then she pulls her lips away, pulls her body away.
And Beatrix panics.
She turns her body on the bed and latches onto Ares, pulling her flush against her body. She needs to feel her, to know that she’s there, that Ares is real, and that the heartbeat that she feels isn’t a fantasy that bleed from her slumber and into her reality.
Ares places a comforting hand against the woman’s back, rubbing a thumb against her. With her free hand, she brushes strands of long hair away from Beatrix’s face. She raises her head to press a gentle kiss on the woman’s forehead.
Beatrix relaxes.
She opens her eyes, blinking away the blurriness that lingers after a deep slumber. Through the window, she sees a single ray of sunlight, breaking through the expanse of gray clouds. The light illuminates the lavender flowers planted outside, on the windowsill. Then she shifts her eyes to where the warmth radiates. And she focuses on the familiar tattoos inked onto a thin arm and the heartbeat embedded into the side of a neck.
Beatrix lays the side of her face against the flat space of her lover’s shoulder. “You’re here,” she mumbles.
Ares trails her fingers against the woman’s back, tracing the outlines of a freshly healed tattoo. Though her lips are graced with a soft smile, her eyes are tinged with concern.
The couple lay together, for awhile longer, their limbs intertwined. Ares runs her fingers through the woman’s hair, untangling knots that had formed in the midst of passion exchanged. Beatrix breathes in the scent of her lover’s skin, further grounding herself into this reality.
When Ares is certain that Beatrix has calmed down, she pulls her arms away. She moves them to grip the woman’s hips, urging Beatrix to move her body.
Without hesitation, Beatrix obliges. She climbs on top of Ares and straddles her hips between her legs. Eager, she presses herself against the woman beneath her and leans down to kiss her.
But Ares stops her.
Planting a hand firmly against her chest, she pushes Beatrix to sit upright. She takes a moment to examine the woman, observing her barely open eyes, her swollen lips, and the fading lipstick smeared against her skin.
She lifts her hands, bringing them to the space between the women. Are you okay? She signs.
Beatrix blinks and then shifts her gaze to look away from Ares. She opens her mouth to speak, but pauses. “For a moment,” she finally says, “I thought you were going to disappear.”
Ares presses a hand against her cheek, turning her head back towards her.
I’m right here, she says. I’m not leaving you.
Beatrix smiles. She leans down and meets Ares in series of sweet, gentle kisses.
The buzz of a phone interrupts them.
Beatrix pulls away, sighing. She reaches for the black cellphone resting on the bedside table and frowns. A notification flashes across the screen, a message from Santino D’Antonio.
Ares slips the phone out of the woman’s fingers, turning it so she can see the screen.
“Ignore him,” Beatrix says.
Ares smiles, but unlocks the phone. She reads the message, before dropping the phone onto the bed.
He needs to see you.
“He can wait,” Beatrix responds.
Ares lifts an eyebrow. He says that it is important.
Beatrix rolls her. “He’s a big boy,” she rests her chest against Ares, “he should learn some patience.”
Ares quirks her mouth in amusement, before pulling Beatrix into another kiss. She flips them over, trapping the woman between her and the mattress.
Beatrix presses her thighs against her hips, wanting to feel all of her lover.
Ares nibbles against the bottom of Beatrix’s lips, urging her to whisper a soft moan in response. Seizing the opportunity, Ares slips her tongue between the parted lips, deepening the lust blooming between the women.
Beatrix digs her nails into the woman’s back, marking the skin with fresh scratches.
Ares pulls her lips away from Beatrix, choosing to pepper kisses along the woman’s jawline. She then presses her lip onto the woman’s neck, sinking her teeth into the delicate skin. A few moments later, she continues to trail her lips down the woman’s body. She travels across her collarbones, the space between her breasts, and along the scars etched onto her stomach.
Beatrix tangles her fingers into the woman’s short hair, impatient and desperate for Ares. Unintelligible pleas escaping from her lips.
Ares dips her head between the spread legs and—
The phone rings, screaming its godawful noise into the room.
Ares freezes, before pulling her face away from Beatrix. She reaches for the cellphone and accepts the call. The woman holds the phone up to her ear for a moment, and then passes it to the other woman.
“What do you want?” Beatrix hisses.
“Ahh,” the man responds, “a good morning to you, too.”
“Santino, get on with it.” A warning.
“The Germans have a proposal.” The man sighs. “I need you to show up for a meeting.”
Movement from the corner of her eye draws her attention. She watches as Ares untangles her limbs from the bedsheets and leaves the comfort of the fabric. She picks up a burgundy shirt from the floor, the same one Beatrix had torn off of her last night, and slips her arms inside of the sleeves. A moment later, she exits the bedroom.
“Answer me,” Santino’s voice pulls her attention back to the call.
“Which Germans are you talking about?” She questions. “Did they mention anything about what they wanted?”
“Matthias,” the Camorra man pauses, “is requesting your presence.”
“Tell him to fuck off.”
Santino chuckles. “That might break his heart. He seems to be quite enchanted by you.”
The woman rolls her eyes. “Did he mention anything else?”
“Lilith.”
Beatrix frowns. “But Lilith is—”
The man interrupts her, “Actions can lead to unexpected conflicts.” A pause. “He says that he can make it, ‘go away.’”
Silence follows, as she processes the information.
“Beatrix?”
“When does he want to meet?”
“This evening, for a late dinner.”
“I will be there,” the woman responds. She ends the call and tosses the phone back onto the bedside table.
Ares walks back into the bedroom, dressed in a clean black buttoned shirt and a pair of navy blue tapered slacks. She pauses in her steps, her eyes focused on Beatrix.
You’re upset.
Beatrix nods her head in response.
What did he say?
“That Matthias has a proposal for me.” Wrapping herself in the bedsheet, Beatrix stands up from the bed and approaches Ares. “It has something to do with Lilith.”
Ares furrows her brows. She is gone.
“It would appear that my actions resulted in,” Beatrix takes a moment to consider her words, “a rippling effect of consequences.”
Ares frowns and her eyes drift down to stare at the dark wooden floors.
“I should have known better,” Beatrix says. “Lilith’s poison contaminates all of Germany. There is no freedom from my people.”
Ares takes a step towards her, determination painted in her features. She reaches for Beatrix’s hand and pulls it towards her, placing it on her chest. Her thumb traces against the edges of an emerald, cut in a pear shape and attached to a simple gold band.
Ares removes her hold on the hand, allowing her to shape her next words. I vowed to protect you. And I intend to keep that promise.
Beatrix blinks, surprised, but comforted. “Ares—”
I will not allow harm to befall you. You do not need to ask me to fight with you, to fight for you. I will do so willingly, for as long as you wish that of me.
Beatrix lifts her hand, placing it against the side of Ares’ neck. “Thank you,” she whispers.
Ares smiles. I love you.
The woman steps closer to her lover, pulling her into her arms. I love you, too,” she says.
a/n: thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please considering reblogging it! i’m a small author, so any reblog really does help me out.
chapter four of the main series is scheduled to be released next weekend, hopefully it doesn’t get delayed any further! i wanted to release something to tie you over while you continue to wait.
pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)
blurb: “We all have secrets.”
word count: 2.1k+
title inspiration: enjoy the silence (reinterpreted) - depeche mode, mike shinoda
Sorry for the long wait! Life got in the way and I’ve been on/off sick for the past month ;; Right now, I’m actually typing this up while battling a migraine oof. This chapter was also edited while suffering from a horrible migraine, so I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed.
This work is cross-posted on AO3.
… | 03 | 04 | 05 | … series masterlist
When Beatrix opens the passenger side door, she is greeted by the familiar face of Ares.
With a small wave from the woman’s fingers and an upward quirk in the corner of her lips, Ares pulls a black cellphone out of her pocket. After pressing a few buttons on the screen, she holds the phone out towards Beatrix.
The assassin pauses to glance back over her shoulder.
Angelo’s men are probably in the apartment by now. They would be sweeping the space, calling out for Angelo and checking each room for his body. And when they discover him dead and drenched in his own blood, they will search every nook and cranny to find her, to find evidence of her. It wouldn’t be long before they burst through the back door, following her trail, ready to slaughter her in retaliation.
The woman releases her hold on the knife in her pocket and slips herself into the car.
Her fingers wrap around the cellphone. And she holds it up to her ear, just as the shrill of the ringing cuts off.
A man’s voice greets her. “It appears that you’ve completed the task,” he says.
Ares switches on the ignition of the car. She pulls away from the side of the curb and drives away from Angelo’s apartment. Glancing at the review mirror, Beatrix watches as his men slam open the back door and sprint down the wooden stairs.
“Were you doubting me, Mr. D’Antonio?” She says.
He ignores her response. “Were there any witnesses?”
“I left a specific trail for them to follow. No one will jump to accuse you of any wrongdoing. For this situation, at least.”
Santino releases a quiet hum in response. “You pinned the blame on someone else.”
“It wasn’t difficult.” Her gaze shifts to Ares, whose eyes are focused on the road in front of her. Was she taking her somewhere specific? Or just away from the scene of the crime? “Angelo wasn’t a very popular man.”
“And which of his enemies did you pick?”
Beatrix smirks. “I’m sure you are able to keep many things secret, but it’s best that you remain blissfully unaware of these details.”
Santino sighs. He’s annoyed.
“I did as requested,” she continues. “For now, that’s all you need to know.”
After a long pause, the man says, “I need you to come meet me in New York.”
“Oh?” Beatrix perks up. “Another problem you need me to take care of?”
“It’s an issue that requires,” he contemplates his next words, “a different type of solution.”
“You’re not hiring me for a hit.”
“No,” he confirms. “I want to make use of your other skill sets.”
Beatrix pauses to stare out of the car window, to examine the empty sidewalks of the frozen streets. “When do you want to meet?”
“In two days.”
“Of course,” Beatrix says. “I’ll see you then.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Amsler.”
The line goes dead.
Beatrix holds the phone back out to Ares, who slips it back inside of her pocket.
“Did anyone see you parked outside of Angelo’s place?” She asks, turning her head towards the other woman.
Ares rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She pulls the car aside, parking it in an empty spot next to the curb.
“Of course not,” Beatrix says. She reaches to pull open the handle of the door. “I need to get out of here, before someone sees us together.”
Ares leans across the car the wraps her fingers around the woman’s wrist. She pulls Beatrix’s hand away from the door and tugs it towards her. With the fingertips of her right hand, Ares places them underneath the assassin’s chin and urges the woman to face her. When their eyes meet, Ares releases her grip and pulls her hands away from Beatrix.
She brings them in front of her. And when Beatrix realizes that Ares is trying to communicate with her through the motions of her fingers, she glances down at the woman’s hands.
You’re bleeding, she signs. Ares lifts a finger to point at the woman’s head, at the spot where Angelo had slammed Beatrix against the bathroom mirror.
Confused, Beatrix lifts a hand to touch her forehead. She jerks away when she feels a burning sting of pain at the contact. Lowering her hand, she glances at the blood coating her fingertips. “Oh,” she whispers. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Ares opens the glove compartment and pulls out a long piece of gauze. She then presses it onto the wound on the forehead, causing Beatrix to flinch and pull away from the material. But Ares places her free hand upon the woman’s neck, forcing the woman to remain still.
Beatrix relaxes. She lifts her hand up to her forehead, placing it on top of the other woman’s. “Thank you,” she says.
Carefully, Ares begins to pull her hands away. She pauses, allowing Beatrix to adjust her grip on the gauze, before removing herself completely.
You knew him, she says.
“Angelo?”
Ares nods her head.
Beatrix leans back into the cushion of her seat. “How do you know that?”
I saw the way he looked at you. Ares reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She pulls up a photograph and turns the screen towards Beatrix.
On display is a photograph of her and Angelo, sitting together in the booth at the bar.
“You were in the bar?”
She shakes her head. Someone else.
“You’ve been observing me,” Beatrix says.
Ares shrugs. Just keeping tabs.
Beatrix raises her left hand to press against the gauze. With her right hand now freed, she raises it in front of her. Lie, she signs.
A playful spark appears in Ares’ eyes and she smiles at the woman. We all have secrets.
“Did you share this information with Santino?” Beatrix lowers her hand.
No.
“Why haven’t you?”
Ares locks her eyes with Beatrix. She examines her, searching for any hints of weakness and deception. She can sense that the woman in front of her is an act, a shroud to conceal an endless well of secrets. She just needs to find a crack in her exterior.
Who was he to you? Ares questions.
The woman ponders her response. “An old assignment,” she says. “One of the first that I received from Lilith.”
You failed.
“I suppose that from her perspective, yes.” Beatrix blinks. “My priority was the extraction of information. I retrieved what she wanted, but not without complications.”
He found out.
“Angelo was much more intelligent than I believed him to be. He knew for quite some time that I was using him. He was biding his time, waiting for me to slip up and reveal what I was doing with the information.” Beatrix sighs. “But his boss was impatient and ordered Angelo to kill me. The next time I went to see him, he shot a bullet straight into my stomach.”
Ares raises an eyebrow. Why try to hide this?
“I didn’t think it was relevant information.”
Now you are the liar.
Beatrix laughs and shakes her head. “You’re worried that I used this as an opportunity to get my revenge and place the blame on Santino.”
Did you?
“No,” she says. “I am not one to chase a petty quest of vengeance. My instincts are more inclined for acts of survival, not pursuit. I grasp onto opportunities that keep me alive for just a day longer than before.”
Ares pauses, analyzing the woman’s response.
“I’m not interested in shortening my lifespan by framing Santino.”
Stay in the car, Ares says. I will give you a lift.
~ ~ ~
The moment Beatrix unlocks the door of her hotel room, she regrets it. Even with the lights switched off and the door opened just an inch, she can feel Eli’s presence permeating the room. When she steps inside, she sees him. He is sitting on the edge of her bed, twisting a butterfly knife between his long fingers.
“You’re back,” he says. He sounds bored, but Beatrix can hear the annoyance that is bubbling beneath the surface of his calm demeanor.
She shuts the door behind her and takes a cautious step further into the room.
“You’ve been gone awhile.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve been sitting here for a few hours now.”
The woman keeps her mouth shut. She knows that if she opens it now, if she makes the tiniest peep of noise, Eli will lose his temper.
“Got a call while you were gone,” he continues. “Any guesses on what the call was about?”
Beatrix inhales a shallow, nervous breath of air. “I wouldn’t know.”
“They said that my girl, my darling Beatrix, was hooking up with Angelo Ricci. Is that true?” Eli glances up towards her.
Upon seeing her face, the twirling knife freezes in his hand.
He stands up from the bed and approaches her. His eyes trail over her open wounds, the bruises beginning to surface, and the lingering traces of blood on her skin. “What happened?” Eli demands.
“I got into a bit of an argument with Angelo.” Beatrix says.
The man sighs. “You killed him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“For business,” the woman responds. “I can’t just waltz up to Santino D’Antonio and stab him to death. I won’t be able to kill him until I know for certain that I will be able to shoot before getting shot first.”
The man clenches his jaw.
“If you want me to kill Santino, I need to do a few favors for him.”
Eli narrows his eyes. “And what did you gain from killing Angelo?"
“Opportunities,” Beatrix says. “He promised me further employment, so I pulled the trigger.”
He raises his knife towards Beatrix and uses it to lift a few strands of hair away from her face. “And by wearing those earrings, you’ve effectively framed me for the hit.”
Beatrix stands up straight, a subtle challenge to Eli’s control over the situation. “I told Santino that the blame wouldn’t fall in his lap. I needed a scapegoat.”
“I suppose I am the most believable option,” he lowers the knife. “No one would question the motive of a man who openly hates him.”
Eli tucks the knife into his back pocket.
“But that doesn’t explain why you left without telling me,” he says. “Why you haven’t shared any of your plans with me. You’re supposed to keep me in the loop, right?”
Beatrix doesn’t respond.
“It’s one of the rules. You tell me everything. Your ideas, your plans, and your destinations. And I tell you what you need to do, who you need to meet, and where you need to be.” He leans down towards Beatrix, brushing his lips against the edges of her ear. “But lately, you’ve decided to do whatever the fuck you want to do. Where’s the communication, Bee? Where’s my little obedient pet?”
“It won’t happen again,” she says.
“Good,” he pulls away from her. “I would hate to kill you if you slip up again.”
~ ~ ~
The hot water of her shower did wonders to soothe the aches and bruises emerging on her body. And once she has washed away all of the blood and the lingering traces of Eli’s touch, she sits in the middle of her bed and dials a familiar number.
The call is answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice. The word is muffled and she sounds groggy.
“Hey, Veronika,” Beatrix greets. “Did I wake you?”
The woman sighs. “If it wasn’t going to be you, it definitely would have been the baby.”
“How is she doing?”
“She screams and shits, typical baby stuff.” Veronika groans. “God, what time is it?”
Beatrix pulls the phone away from her face and glances at the clock. “It’s nearing 4a.m. for you,” she says.
A pause follows the response.
“How bad was it tonight?” Veronika says.
“I’ve had worse.”
“You sure? Cause you sound absolutely terrible, exhausted.”
“Thanks,” Beatrix releases a soft chuckle. “Don’t hold back.”
“Hey,” Veronika hesitates for a moment, before continuing her words. “I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen you in months and you barely respond to my calls or texts. I just want to know that my sister is alive and okay.”
“I’m fine.”
It’s a response that won’t satisfy her sister, but it will have to do for now.
“Really?”
“Listen,” Beatrix says. “I’m coming back to New York.”
The statement distracts Veronika. “You are?”
“Yeah, I got a new client.”
“Is that why you called?”
The assassin takes a moment to respond. “I just wanted to hear your voice. And tell you through a phone call, not a text.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Go back to sleep,” Beatrix says. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Let me know when you’re back, okay?”
“I will. Sleep well.”
Before Veronika is able to respond, Beatrix ends the call.
The woman slides off of the bed and scoots an armchair towards the large window. She settles herself into the seat and watches as Chicago is painted with a fresh coat of snow.
a/n: thank you so much for reading! if you liked what you read, please considering reblogging this chapter. every reblog truly does help a small author like me!
but any likes, comments, or other indications that you enjoy this story is also appreciated!
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