I love subtle threats. A touch that lingers a little too long, fingers digging slightly too hard. Careful warnings laughed off as a joke, but character B reads between the lines.
Standing too close. Talking over B before they can speak. A calming smile as A plays with B's long hair, curling it around their fingers in a way that just gently tugs, all too easy to play off as an accident. All to easy to know who is in control.
Always watching. No matter how many people in the room, A's eyes never fail to find B.
It's 11:59 Wednesday somewhere in the world still...
TW: Post-battle/fight disaster, off screen death, hints towards abusive dynamics
The Villain couldn't breathe. Debris crashed all around them, and the air was filled with dust and ash. It took the villain a few seconds to orient themselves upright again, knees shaking as they stared at the wreckage ahead of them. When the reality set in, their heart sank.
Everything was ruined. The lair was broken and bent beyond recognition. The home they had once shared with friends, with people who were like family to them was gone within seconds. The Villain took one shaky step forward, and then another before breaking out into a run towards where the piles of wall and debris sat.
They kneeled on the rubble and began to dig through it. There was only one thing in their mind right now- to find the Supervillain, to know that he hadn't died. The only sounds were the fragments of brick being tossed to the side and the ringing in the Villain's ears. Although they were calling out for the Supervillain's name, they could barely hear their own voice beyond their panicked thoughts. They couldn't take in a proper breath between heaving sobs.
"Villain!"
Very vaguely, the Villain recognized the voice of the Hero far behind them in the aftermath of the battle. This wasn't supposed to happen, the Hero wasn't supposed to take it this far, and the Supervillain wasn't supposed to be hurt, he wasn't supposed to be dead.
"Villain!" This time, a strong grip had taken hold of their arms and spun them around. Villain's breath hitched as the shock began settling, and the numbness in their hands went away. They hadn't realized how badly their body was scrapped up until the Hero squeezed their hands. Every little mark lit on fire.
"Gods, are you okay? What are you doing there?" The questions were accompanied by gentle hands brushing the villain's bangs back. Villain recoiled at the touch, almost stumbling back at the unsteady ground.
"Don't you dare fucking touch me!" The venom in the Villain's voice had caught both the hero and themself by surprise.
The Hero stared at the Villain, confused at first and then they tried to approach the Villain again. The shock had left the Villain now, and anger began brewing anew within their veins. "Don't you dare take another step to me," they seethed. Between the blurred vision and the anger and panic buzzing in their body, the villain didn't notice the hero's expression darken. They didn't notice the change in the hero as the reality of the Supervillain's death settled in. What would they do now? Their home was wrecked and their one true friend was gone and-
The villain was forced to look up, their face being held in the sharp claws of their enemy. They couldn't help the choked-up sob as the Hero kneeled down to meet them on the ground. All the kindness in their eyes disappeared, replaced with the cruelty the villain had seen during the making of this destruction.
"Get yourself together, Ok?" The Hero's voice was low. Quiet, and yet, the Villain could still feel the goosebumps rise on their arms and the hair on the back of their neck rise. They tried to get themselves together, through their trembling hands and relentless tears and all. "You're ok," the hero told them, and the villain could only nod yes. "You'll be fine with me, if not better." The soft voice did nothing to hide the threat.
The Hero's nails dug into their cheeks, a subtle warning before they stood up. "See?" the hero sighed, and rested their hand on the villain's shoulder. "Come on, let's go see the rest of my team. We'll get you back in the base and into the right shape."
The villain bit their lips to hold back another outburst and nodded. As the hero led them out of the rubble, they couldn't help but look back. Their home was gone now. What safety existed has been destroyed. Where would they go now?
aaaa not the proudest of this honestly. Maybe I'll rewrite it someday?
Anyway, I'm starting to get back into writing after, what? 2 years?
This snippet is honestly not the best work but.. hopefully, by the end of October, I develop into a better writer? Idk, we'll find out
cw: firearms, talk of death, recapture (implied). pretty tame this time around
~~
There stood William among the burnt ruins of what they once thought of as home, clutching the smooth, cold metal of a pistol and holding it with a straight arm in front of them. Beyond the barrel was Romeo, his fingertips level to his shoulders as he mock-surrendered and leisurely and slowly strode ever closer to William. Gentle wind caressed William’s face and hair from the left as it twirled strands of pale blond in its fingertips. The bun in Romeo’s thick, brown hair also swayed and yielded to the breeze. The only noises filling the near-silent air were that of rubble crunching beneath Romeo’s sturdy boots and the laborious breaths William heaved like lifelines. The gun shook in their trembling hand, and William sniffled, their knobbed, pinkish fingers forcing away a tear from their cheek and readjusting their silver frames.
Romeo remained before them, a gentle, knowing smile stuck to his face as it always had been from the moment the two reunited. William was rooted to the ground, a statue placed in front of a wrecking ball, and even with the gun in their unsteady hand, they couldn’t help but feel at every disadvantage. Romeo’s caramel orange eyes, nearly overflowing with patronizing and performative adoration, bore holes into William.
Finally, he arrived in front of William. Romeo placed his gloved hands on the barrel and gently guided the muzzle of the pistol to his forehead. William’s heart leaped to their throat as they choked on their own shock.
“Do it,” Romeo murmured smoothly, “pull the trigger. It’s okay, you’re allowed.” His tender stare reached William’s ice-blue eyes, beginning again to well up with salty tears. They tried in vain to blink them away, to deny their very existence, to ignore the fact that they had, again, broken before their captor.
William’s finger twitched around the trigger, taunting them. The gun was unsteady against Romeo’s head. Its cold kiss sat in the perfect center of his hairline and his brow. Everything was in place, everything was as William had always wanted it to be. Everything was so tantalizingly perfect, everything except the twitching and shaking of their trigger finger.
William opened their mouth, but the only noises they could muster were tiny whimpers and cries that tumbled from their lips and fell to the charred ground pathetically. They clenched their jaw shut and tilted away their head, unwilling to watch the scene inevitably unfolding.
William knew they couldn’t do it. They knew from the moment they picked up the gun that they couldn’t possibly kill him. Slowly, ever so slowly, they lowered the shaking pistol to their side. Though William couldn’t bring themselves to look, they knew Romeo’s smile had grown impossibly wide. Gentle, leather fingers slipped into William’s hand and carefully collected the gun.
“That’s okay, I knew you weren’t really going to,” Romeo assured, as if it would do anything to soothe William, “you love me, too. Your subconscious mind knows better than to kill me.”
He tugged William to his chest, cradling their head against his shoulder. They were paralyzed against him, unable to do anything but weep.
“Oh, Will,” Romeo crooned. William attempted to push themselves away from his agonizingly comfortable arms, but Romeo pressed them closer still, a thinly veiled warning. “You need some rest, don’t you? Let’s go home.”
Joffrey- Please, sit sit. I do apologize, my Lady, Small Council meetings... At what point does it become treason to waste the King's time? That's a lovely gown, my Lady.
Cersei- Yes, it suits you perfectly. I imagine you might be rather cold.
Margaery- The climate is a bit more forgiving back in Highgarden, Your Grace.
Joffrey- Shall I have them bring you a shawl, my Lady?
Margaery- I am touched by your concern, Your Grace. Luckily for us Tyrells our blood runs quite warm. Doesn't it Loras?
Loras- Yes.
Margaery- Loras, isn't the Queen's gown magnificent? The fabric, the embroidery, the metal work.. I've never seen anything like it.
Cersei- You might find a bit of armor quite useful once you've become Queen. Perhaps before. Joffrey tells me you stopped your carriage at Flea Bottom on your way back from the Sept this morning.
Margaery- Yes, I paid a visit to an orphanage the High Septon told me about.
Loras- Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Highgarden.
Margaery- The lowest among us are no different from the highest, if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart.
Cersei- An open heart is what you'll get in Flea Bottom if you're not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attacked by a mob there. We had a full compliment of guards. It didn't stop them. The King barely escaped with his life.
Joffrey- My mother's always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger.
Cersei- You're right, of course. You are your father's son. We can't all have a King's bravery.
Margaery- Hunger turns men into beasts. I'm glad House Tyrell has been able to help in this regard. They tell me a hundred wagons arrive daily now from the Reach. Wheat, barley, apples.. We've had a blessed harvest, and of course it's our duty to assist the capital in time of need.
Joffrey- Well, as Ser Loras said, Lady Margaery has done this sort of charitable work before. I'm sure she knows what she's doing.
Cersei- I'm sure she does.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him waiting for the elevator with her boss. Too late to turn back; she was spotted. Her boss cheerfully waved at her to come over and join them. She did not need this at the end of her workday. Reluctantly she trudged over to them.
“You’ve met Nadine, Chris?”
Christopher Fabrice turned to face her. He didn’t bow this time, but he did give her a respectful nod. He was wearing a more casual suit and he had a less formal air about him. She doubted he was here for actual business. Even though her boss was still practically clinging to him, she knew they had a more friendly relation than just business partners. Which made things oh so much more difficult.
“We’ve had a wonderful time at a party the other day.” Fabrice smiled and extended a hand. She took it and memories of the party came flooding back to her as she felt his fingers tighten around her palm once again.
“She’s one of our top lawyers. I expect her to make partner soon.” Her boss beamed at her like a proud father.
“Oh, we’ll be doing business then, soon.” Fabrice sounded pleasantly surprised.
“I certainly expect so,” she mimicked his pleasant tone, though mixed with a hint of ice.
The elevator pinged and she joined them. She hadn’t expected to end the day on a sour note, but well, she could handle thirty more seconds in his presence and make her escape to the subway. Or so she thought.
“In respect to our becoming business partners, might I offer you a lift home?” Fabrice asked her.
She saw her boss vigorously nodding behind Fabrice’s shoulder while she could only scream in her head.
“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way—“
“Nonsense,” he gruffly cut her off. “No trouble at all.”
They rode the elevator down to the car park where a luscious black limousine was waiting for them. Fabrice held up a hand to his driver and opened the door for Nadine himself. The beige leather seats creaked pleasantly when she got in. It was like entering a small room. Seats on both sides of the compartment. Even a little work table. Champagne.
As soon as she was protected by the dark tinted one-way glass and her boss could no longer see her, her smile faltered.
She saw Fabrice shake hands with her boss in goodbye and he walked around the back of the car. He took the seat diagonally opposite her, not directly in front of her. Luckily. She was a little surprised that he maintained a respectful distance but appreciated it all the same.
“Where to?”
No way she was going to give him her actual address. Surely he wasn’t gullible enough to think that.
“Chiswick park, please.” Maybe she’d get some shopping done and take the tube home when all gaudy limousines had vacated the area. Pick up her favourite take-out at that nice Thai place. She hadn’t been there in a while and it would be nice to wash away the horrible aftertaste this ride would leave.
He smiled and called over his shoulder to his driver. “Take the lady home, Karl.”
He reached for the bottle of champagne and held it out to her. She shook her head and watched as he carefully poured a glass for himself.
“So, Nadine.” He pronounced her name in a French accent that, combined with his husky voice, gave her a shiver. He took a sip of his champagne. “I do hope you did get to enjoy the party somewhat. Maybe you found something interesting?”
Ah, so that’s what he was worried about. Or not, really. Nadine took him in but he didn’t show any signs of concern. He just looked at her with a soft condescension, like he already knew the answer. Which was that she found nothing interesting whatsoever.
“I did go home rather satisfied,” she returned the smug attitude. While really, everyone at the party only had the most disgustingly nice things to say about Fabrice. It was like any attempts at gossiping about him were instantly shutdown by disbelief and even hostility. When she had tried to explore the mansion a bit, every door, window and passage leading to, no doubt, more interesting venues, had been blocked by security.
All in all, a big bust.
“Why, I’m glad to hear that. Word reached my ears about a woman who, as described by my security detail, seemed a little frustrated roaming about the corridors trying locked doors. I’m happy to hear you cast that irritation aside.”
Of course they saw. “You’re rather on top of things, aren’t you.”
“One must keep an eye on business risks.” He shrugged. “I hope to find the experience deterred you from further snooping.” His tone of voice lowered, more business-like as he finally got to the point.
“It did not.” She smiled her sweetest smile.
“That’s a shame. I’d hate to employ different methods.”
“You can’t scare me off.”
“You don’t seem scared, no,” he mused.
“Should I be?”
“I think it’s better to let you experience that for yourself. I’m more of a... show don’t tell person.”
“Like showing me my boss is rubbing elbows with you?” She wondered who was actually rubbing elbows with whom, though. Fabrice would certainly benefit from having friends at a top lawyers office.
He smiled over his glass. “Something like that. Though that's hardly worth mentioning. I could have him cut off your investigation in a second.” He snapped his fingers. “But that would just fuel you, wouldn’t it? I would prefer you come to make the decision on your own.”
“Make your threats then.”
“Some other time perhaps. Right now I’m just driving you home.”
And he was, actually. She’d already noticed, but the car didn’t seem to be going the usual route to Chiswick. Now at the final intersection, they turned left where he should have gone right. A dull feeling settled in her stomach as they turned the corner to her neighbourhood. She didn’t need to ask where they were going.
They stopped right in front of her apartment. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and she couldn’t help a soft gasp.
“I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of driving you here. I didn’t want to drop you off somewhere unfamiliar to you. The world can be dangerous for a young woman living on her own these days.”
Mortanius’ composure remained as still as a winter lake. “I have no interest in treading upon the private lives of our Sarafan protectors, so long as they maintain their public image. Raziel is an invaluable talent. Who are you?”
