#[ ch: i'm jack's smirking revenge ]

[jadeee]

Vendetta Ch. 12, Part 2: The Storm

📰 read chapters 1 - 12 here!

Warnings: angst, swearing, & violence

Word Count: 4.8k

divider by @saradika ©️

Your heart beat in your ears as you approached the stand. Martin spent the last few weeks prepping you and the others for this moment. Day in and day out. When you woke up, you ran through your testimony and you did it again before you went to sleep. Everything led up to this very moment, so why did you feel sick?

Your hand rested on the leather bible as you looked straight ahead "So help me God."

Chris, Rocky, and Taylor had already went. The trial had been going on for a few days already and you were fine then. You knew what to expect but as Martin stood in front of you now, you clenched your hands in your lap. He locked eyes with you and nodded softly. You gave him a small nod back.

"What's your favorite thing about living in California?"

"Objection, your honor." Floyd's lawyer, Jack Fleming, stood "Irrelevant."

"Sustained, Mr. Martin get to the point." The judge glanced at him with tired eyes.

Martin nodded "Compared to living in New York, how's life different?"

"It's better. I don't feel like I have to look over my shoulder all the time. Or at least, I felt that way before Floyd came back."

"How has your life changed since that night?"

"I'm paranoid... I keep thinking what if the law doesn't protect us, again? What then? We could move but he'd just keep following us. Until we're dead."

"What did Floyd do to you when you were kidnapped?"

"He drugged me, tied me up, and threw me off the pier. He left me for dead."

Martin approached you, "Why did he want you dead?"

"To hurt my husband. For revenge."

Martin faced the court then held up a photograph and passed it around the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a picture of my client's wrists the night they survived that attack. If you look closely today, you can still see the bruises."

Martin took the photograph back and set it aside then faced you "What do you want when this is all over?"

"... peace of mind."

He looked at the judge "No further questions, your honor."

Jack stood with a grin and walked toward you "Does that work on everybody?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Your pity-me-victim act. You're in the film business so it would make sense."

"Objection, relevance." Martin said cooly. 

"Sustained."

Jack raised his hand and smirked "My apologies." He stepped closer "I'm just in awe of someone like you."

You remained silent.

"Before you met Nicholas Valentino, no one ever heard of you. Then you show up and not only does his life change but so does my client's, except it's for the worst."

Your eyes wanted to look at Nicky's who wasn't too far off but you heard Martin's voice in your head. His advice from your various mock trials filled your mind: He's going to get under your skin but don't let him see you break. You look him dead in the eye and stand your ground. Whatever you do, do not break on that stand or we lose this whole case.

Jack faced the court "Ladies and gentlemen, what the Valentinos won't tell you is how they attacked my client and coerced him into a false confession."

"Objection, hearsay."

"Overruled."

Martin clenched his jaw and stared at you. You didn't have to look, you could feel it. Do. Not. Break.

Your new nemesis had his back turned to you as he grabbed photographs and held them high in the air "Floyd was attacked by the Valentinos. They tricked him into coming to their production company, alone and under false pretenses, where they beat him to a pulp. They even knocked his tooth out," he faced you "Isn't that right, sugar?"

"That's not my name."

"Answer the question." the judge glanced over at you.

"No, that's not right. My husband did invite Floyd to the company to discuss a business deal. Things quickly went south when Floyd went in for a punch. We acted out of self defense."

The judge looked at Jack.

"Y'know what's funny? The police department got that confession tape you submitted but towards the end it just stops. Almost like something's missing. What happened to it?"

"I don't work cameras so I don't know."

He squinted his eyes "So we should get someone from your staff on the stand?"

You stared at him and he snickered. "One last thing: along with that missing footage, my client has bruises that are synonymous to being attacked with a baseball bat and brass knuckles. Yet when we searched the scene, we couldn't find those. Care to tell me about that?"

"I don't recall brass knuckles. All I remember is fighting to stay alive.. twice, because of your client."

He nodded "No problem, your husband should know how to answer that question given his history."

You tensed at the mention of his name yet again.

"Tell me, he put you up to this?"

"What?"

"He tell you to sit here and act pretty? Let daddy take care of everything? Let familia handle it, right? That's what mobsters do."

"Objection, badgering. Your honor, this is ridiculous!" Martin waved his hand.

You clenched your jaw. Do. Not. Break. Those sitting in the gallery became rowdy and the judge smacked the gavel "Order! Order!" He faced you "Answer the question."

"There's no question to be answered because what this man is insinuating is pure fiction. My husband would never do such a thing... unless you have any good questions, we're done here."

Jack slipped his hands into his pockets "No further questions, your honor."

You slowly rose from the stand and felt your legs go numb. As the bailiff helped you down, you heard Jack utter "Good performance."

The comment made your ears burn.

The judge tapped the gavel "Recess. Meet here in fifteen minutes."

You walked right past Nicky and the others and headed straight for the bathroom. You sat in front of the toilet until your knees felt raw. You felt like you had to puke but never did. There was a knock at the door of your stall.

"That better be morning sickness. I could use some good news, right now."

You chuckled at your husband's joke "Ha ha, very funny." You sniffled and wiped your nose.

"You shouldn't be in here, they'll call us 'rule breakers'."

"Who gives a shit?"

You looked over at his shoes which showed under the bathroom stall door. For some reason, seeing the black leather made you remember when you'd bought them and why. Although, you never bought them with the intention of wearing them to a court case.

Your hand reached up and unlocked the door. He stood back to let it swing open then glanced down at you with a soft smile.

"Hi."

Tears pricked your eyes "Hi."

"Why are you crying?" He sank down by your side and sat on the tile floor.

"I just want to go home."

"Okay, we'll go straight home after this is over. Then we can do the same thing tomorrow and the day after that. However long this damn case takes." He guided you to lay on his chest. 

"I'm gonna mess up your suit."

"I don't care." He caressed your back "Maybe it'll help our case. They'll call me 'loving husband'." 

When you laughed at his comment, he smiled at hearing his favorite sound for the first time that day.

"I could've choked that bastard with his own tie."

"Amore!" He pulled back and looked at you with shock and amusement. "In the courthouse?" He whispered.

You nodded and laughed. He wiped the last of your tears.

"He's gonna choke on his own words. Him and Floyd. We got a solid case, we just have to believe that."

You nodded again "You're right."

"And I could really use some of that gusto you had on the stand," he guided you back to his chest "pure fiction" he mimicked your tone from earlier.

You giggled at his impersonation of you "It was."

"I know," he rubbed your back. "I'd love to hide in this bathroom with you forever but we have to get back or we'll really be in trouble."

You nodded then started to get up but Nicky stopped you for a moment.

"What?!" You asked him. 

He studied your face for a second then kissed you "That's all."

After recess, there wasn't much action. The court simply reviewed the evidence and testimonies for that day before adjourning the trial for two days. That's when Nicky and Floyd would take the stand otherwise known by the media as "The Main Attraction". People did cling onto the fact that Dr. Parsons's spoke and backed up your testimony as well as Chris's. They even heard from Mr. Wilson who saw where you and Chris were kidnapped and how Nicky looked when he'd found out that night. There was also Officer Pratt who admitted his coldness on the case initially and that he should've followed Nicky's concern. What people didn't know, and even Floyd himself, was that Umberto was caught. He too would take the stand.

"Let's just stay inside."

"Are you sure? We aren't prisoners, y'know?" Nicky caressed your shoulder.

"I know but I don't want us to go out and be gawked at like we're some circus show. Plus, I know you testify soon and I don't want to put you on edge."

He sat up from the cushy pillows "I appreciate that."

"I know how things got when you heard about Maurizio and we never talked about it. Which I'm not forcing you to now, it's just... you seem a bit better and I don't want to ruin that."

"You wouldn't be ruining anything." his hand rested on top of yours. "You're right, let's just stay in today."

He glanced at you over his shoulder and you nodded.

Martin looked at his watch then back at Umberto.

"Forty five minutes, that's a new record."

Umberto remained silent and Martin sighed.

"As usual, thanks for wasting my time. Although, I do appreciate the silence. It gives me a nice break."

Umberto shook his head and smirked. "Don't you get it?"

"That you're stupid for not talking?" He nodded "I do."

Umberto scoffed.

"You could've asked for a deal."

"You wouldn't have given it to me."

"At least negotiate!" Martin chortled, "You're not even trying. You really think Floyd hasn't snitched on you already?"

He shook his head "I know he didn't."

"Oh really? Because you two are such good friends?" Martin leaned forward "No one gives a shit about you, so you're either going to cover your ass or let him walk all over it."

Umberto leaned back and crossed his arms.

"What'll it be?"

The two of you sat side by side. Nicky suddenly went quiet.

"What? Is it that bad?"

A slow smile spread across his face "No," he put his hand on his cheek "it just tastes like my mom's."

You shrunk back "You're kidding."

"I'm serious!"

You smiled softly and continued to eat the meal you cooked for the two of you.

As the hours passed, it seemed like you both forgot about your court case and all the other chaos that was happening in your lives.

You managed to sneak away while Nicky was reading a book and you set something up in a separate room. When you were ready, you made your way to him. 

"Nicky?"

"Hm?" He poked his head up to look at you.

"I want to show you something. Is now a bad time?"

"No, no, of course not." He set his book down then got up.

"Actually, you can bring that with you."

He scrunched his brows "Okay?" He grinned "What are you up to?"

You held his hand and led him towards the surprise.

"I've been working on something ..."

You both walked into the room and the tent made out of sheets glowed with the lamps you'd set up.

"It's kind of childish but I figured that's what we need right now." You let go of his hand and crawled into the makeshift fort you built then poked your head out. "Are you coming?"

He chuckled and crawled in and sat by you. He looked around at the pillows you carefully set up and the different snacks you brought. Stella walked in and sat in the middle of your fort. You scratched her ears then laid on a pillow, "So?"

"It's lovely." He laid near you and kissed your forehead. 

"I'm glad you like it."

You reached over and grab the book he brought with him. 

"What are you doing?!" He laughed softly as you reached over him.

"I'm about to read to you!"

He laughed softly while you settled back against the pillows with the book in your hand. You started to read and he kissed your temple, then your cheek and your jaw. You rested the book on your stomach, which his hand gently roamed over.

"Nicky," you turned and when you did so, he kissed you on your lips. His hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer to him.

"You really didn't expect me to make a move on you?"

Your shocked expression morphed into a smile.

"You're such a sweet talker."

"You love it though."

"I didn't say otherwise."

That day seemed like ages ago now as Nicky took the stand. Even though you weren't up there, your heart beat in your ears all over again. Martin approached Nicky and asked him the same questions you heard in your living room just last week. Nicky was even saying his answer in the same tone. He was cool, reserved, himself. How he did was a mystery to you still, despite knowing him inside and out.

"Nicholas, it's no secret you and Floyd have history. Some people still see you as the flashy guy from New York but that's changed. Tell me, how are you different?"

"I'm not. I'm still the same guy who'd go for a walk down the pier and watch the game. If anything, I'm less selfish and I've got my one and only to thank for that."

"Your spouse, correct?"

Nicky nodded.

"Will you tell me about the night they disappeared?"

"My spouse and cousin, Chris, went out to get something for dinner. They'd been gone for a while, about an hour, and I knew something was off. I had this feeling I couldn't shake... that's when I called Mr. Wilson."

"How did you know Floyd was behind it?"

"Because there's no one else in the world who would do what he did."

Martin nodded "Floyd not only attacked your spouse and your cousin but he also attacked you later the following morning. Can you walk us through that?"

"Sure," Nicky shifted in his seat "It was about two in the morning after I talked with the police. I knew he was going to show up at my home so I waited for him. Talking didn't last long so we got into it. He had backup, of course, and Chris was there. There was broken glass, Stella got involved and bit some of the guys, Chris got shot. That's when I took him to the hospital then I went to Goleta Pier shortly after, where I thought I lost my spouse for good... turns out they were home waiting for me."

Martin gave Nicky a half-hearted smile. "A few days ago, Floyd's lawyer talked about the confession tape that was turned into the police department. Can you explain why you decided to get Floyd's confession on tape?"

"Well, the police didn't bat an eye when I told them my spouse and cousin were kidnapped. There was no way in hell I was gonna let them disappoint me twice so I figured if we got his confession on tape, there's no denying it."

"Can you explain the missing footage from the confession?"

"That's when Floyd lunged at us and we acted in self defense. I didn't think it was necessary for people to see that. I didn't want to paint him as weak. After all, he's a big boy. He can stand up for himself." Nicky glanced at Floyd who was trying to keep calm in his borrowed suit.

Martin slid his hands into his pocket "I forgot to ask, what injuries did you suffer from your scuffle with Floyd? Dr. Parsons mentioned that you not only suffered physically but also pscyhologically."

Nicky's jaw clenched slightly and he nodded "I had some cuts and bruises but I had trouble sleeping... I was paranoid at times. I often shut people out and shut down. One day.. I felt like I couldn't breathe.. like the wind was just knocked out of me. I still feel that way sometimes."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Martin faced the judge "No further questions, your honor." 

He took his seat and said a silent prayer as Jack approached Nicky.

"How much did that suit cost you?"

Nicky buried his iconic smirk "Nothing, it was a gift."

"Oh, friends in high places?" he cocked his head.

"Objection, your honor. Relevance." Martin said in an annoyed tone.

"Overruled."

He tried not to roll his eyes as his nemesis proceeded.

"You've always been flashy, Mr. Valentino. Even before you moved to California. I mean, c'mon.."

"Style is subjective. I don't see how that's relevant to Floyd attacking me or my family."

"Oh, on the contrary. Y'know what I think," he inched closer to the stand "I think this whole thing is a set up. You did it for the money, the attention, the fame."

Nicky remained silent.

"No comment?"

He shook his head "Nothing you've said has been worth a response."

He scoffed and the judge rolled his eyes "Let's keep it moving, gentlemen."

"Apologies, your honor. Mr. Valentino?"

Nicky simply looked at him.

"It's no secret you've had a rough life. Especially, your childhood. You were involved in crime at a young age, were you not?"

Martin watched Nicky with a careful eye.

"Crimes such as?" Nicky retorted.

"Y'know," he shrugged "stealing, trespassing, typical stuff."

"Worst thing I did was steal a stuffed animal."

"That was for your sister, right?"

Nicky's eyes faltered for just a split second but you saw it from the bench.

"Sofia was her name?" The man moved closer to Nicky "Pretty na--"

"Objection, your honor! The defendant is attempting to rile up my client."

"Sustained." He looked down at Jack "Get to the point, quickly."

"I'm just saying, you'll do what you have to for the people you love. Isn't that right?"

"I think anyone in this room would agree to that statement."

"But I'm asking you specifically."

Nicky heard it the same moment you did. Do. Not. Break. "I love my family and friends, but if you're suggesting I'd go so far as to murder someone for them. You're wrong." I'd do more than that, he thought to himself but he said "It'd only hurt everyone in the end and what's the point in that?"  

The lawyer stood still and looked at Nicky like he was a stain that wouldn't go away. 

"Earlier, you said you beat Floyd out of self defense. How'd you do it?"

"With my hands."

"You use brass knuckles?"

He shook his head.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"No. No, I didn't use brass knuckles."

"So you, took down someone Floyd's size?"

"I defended myself."

"To the point where you knocked out teeth?"

"Objection, badgering." Martin said without even looking away from the scene.

"Sustained."

Jack hissed softly "Weren't you two friends at some point?"

Nicky chuckled in disbelief "Absolutely not."

"This man was like a father to you when yours couldn't even stand up straight. How dare you sit there all high and mighty?"

Nicky smirked and he shook his head "My old man was more than Floyd will ever be. He made an honest living, Floyd can't say the same... you think I want to be here? On this stand, in front of half of the city?! All I want is to be home with my heart, that's it."

"And you'd do anything to get there, wouldn't you?! Like lie to Floyd to get him alone under false pretenses just to beat him to death."

Nicky glanced at Jack then Floyd "I'm sorry you think you're going to get away with this."

"Don't look at him, look at me!"

He looked at him "I'm sorry for the both of you."

The judge spoke over Jack who started ranting and raving "You're done. No further questions for Mr. Valentino."

"But your honor, I'm not finished!"

"You should've thought about that before you started foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog."

You watched Nicky descend the stand and tried not to smile.

"You were glorious." You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him.

"Hey," he chuckled "people will think we're celebrating." He hugged you back.

"Why not?! I have an idea. Let's go the park, just for a quick stroll. We could get some ice cream?"

"Hm... it is a nice day out." He surveyed the blue sky.

"We wouldn't advise that." An officer stepped forward and spoke up.

"C'mon, you've been trailing us for months now. The case just started about a week ago and we're still safe. We can go out to the park for just a few minutes."

You pleaded and felt Nicky's thumb stroke the back of your hand. "You guys will be close?"

The officer nodded and looked back at the other officers who were with him.

You and Nicky walked hand in hand eating your ice cream cones and basking in the sun.

"How are you not messing up your lipstick?" He glance over at you.

"It's a skill. Plus, you can mess it up later." You teased.

He made a flirty face and bumped shoulders with you which made you smile. He wondered if he could make you do it again.

"I really love when you do that."

"What?" You finished off your ice cream cone as he looked at you "What?!"

"When you do anything..."

"I don't believe you."

He chuckled and finished his ice cream cone "Why not?!"

"Because that's so unrealistic," you laughed and he smiled. That was twice now. Maybe he could go for a third time. "So, all I have to do is breathe and you're obsessed?"

He cupped your cheeks in his hands and looked at you tenderly "You don't have to do anything to make me love you. It just happens. I look at you and it just happens, like breathing or blinking or.." he tried to find the words.

"Like eating?" You chuckled.

"Yeah," he chuckled "like eating but all of my favorite foods could never equate to you."

You held onto his wrists and went in for a kiss.

When he was about to duck down, he had that feeling again. The one he spoke about in the courtroom except this time it was back. He noticed something far off or rather, someone. It couldn't be. It didn't look like him but why was he pointing a gun at your back?

Nicky wrapped his arms around you and switched places with you. You shouted as you fell to the ground then blacked out when you heard screaming, running, and a pop. He was lying on top of you.

"Nicky?" Your breathing picked up when he didn't answer "Nicky?" Your voice cracked.

A handful of officers rushed towards the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him and your hands felt wet. When you pulled them back, you saw red.

"No, no, no," you sat up slowly and let him lay in your lap. "Hey, hey," you held his bobbing head in your hands. "Nicholas? Nic-- Nicky?!" You tapped his cheeks and he moved in his half conscious state. The officers surrounded you and the rest was a blur.

Minutes later the ambulance showed up and you rode in the back, holding his hand whenever the paramedics let you. You relished in it since you knew you couldn't be with him when they took him back to the operating room.

Rocky and Chris were there as soon as he went into surgery. You immediately broke into tears when you saw them. They both hugged you and you felt your legs give out. If it weren't for them holding you up, you would've been sprawled out on the floor.

Eventually, the tears stopped flowing. Chris got you something for your eyes since they were hot from crying. Rocky got you something to drink.

"It's my fault. I wanted to go to the park. If I didn't--"

"No, don't do that. He wouldn't want you to do that." Rocky rubbed your shoulders "C'mon kid, it's gonna be alright. It's gotta be alright." 

And just like that, the tears came back and you buried yourself in his chest. He rubbed your back as you released heaving sobs for what felt like the seventeenth time. Chris came back with a cold compress but set it aside when he saw Rocky holding you close and letting you cry into his shirt.

Moments later, the sobs had reduced into sniffles and puffy eyes. Chris sat with you in the lobby while Rocky went to the chapel. You let the cold compress rest on your eyes. Seeing black felt odd. It made you wonder: What Nicky was seeing right now? Was he out yet? Was he okay? You sniffled and tried not to cry again.

"I need to see him." Your voice cracked.

"They'll get us when he's ready," Chris took your hand in his and you cried again. His own eyes filled with tears as he heard you whimper and sob into your free hand. Rocky gave you a hankerchief earlier but it was soaked.

Chris noticed you weren't using it, so he gave you some tissues he jammed into his pocket earlier. The gesture made you cry more and you held your head in your hands.

When you managed to barely compose yourself, you stepped away into the restroom. You looked in the mirror and noticed your eyes were practically swollen shut from all the crying you'd been doing. You created a pool of water in your hands and let your eyes rest in the cool for a few moments. Before you left, you wiped the lipstick off of your face. The crimson red did nothing but remind you of your husband's blood on your hands. There was a knock at the door.

"One second," your voice faltered as you scrubbed the last of the lipstick off.

"It's Rocky. Nicky's awake." 

You ran to the door and flung it open, nearly knocking Rocky in the head and sending him to his own hospital bed. 

"Where's the nurse? I want to see him."

"I know. C'mon," he held your hand and walked past the lobby. Chris stood and joined you two to see Nicky. The nurse approached you as you started to cross the threshold.

"He's still out of it, so only one visitor at a time."

You nodded and looked back at Chris and Rocky.

"What are you waiting for?" Chris asked you.

Rocky gestured for you to go first "He could care less about us right now."

You pressed your lips together then walked into the room. You sat down in the chair next to Nicky's bed and noticed his tossled hair, flushed skin, and the IV in the back of his hand. Where was his wedding ring? 

You looked around and saw it in a small container on the table next to you. You opened it then heard him move slightly. When you looked back, you saw him opening his eyes. He smiled softly at you, his eyes still half shut.

"Hi, amore mio."

"Hi," you gently rubbed his wrist and kissed his forehead. 

His eyes opened some more "Why'd you take off the lipstick?"

You smiled then started crying again.

He offered you his hand but you just rested your head on his arm. He caressed your shoulder since that was as far as he could reach.

"I was so worried about you." You kissed his hand then slid his wedding band back onto his finger.

"Are you proposing to me?" He chuckled then clutched at his side and grimaced "Mmph, don't make me laugh."

"I wasn't being funny." You sat on the edge of his bed and he looked at you. 

His eyes opened up some more as they adjusted to the light "Can you stay here?"

"Of course I can, but Chris and Rocky want to see you and it's only one visitor at a time."

"Stay a bit longer. They'll be alright."

You bent down and kissed his forehead. A tear fell from your eyes and landed on his skin.

Author's Note: This was heart-wrenching but also one of my favorites to write. That lawyer Jack is really something, huh? Also, I'm debating on how I wanna write the next chapter since Floyd will be testifying and Nicky will definitely wanna be there although he just got shot {he's so stubborn, he'll probably hobble in there}. I think the next chapter will be the last! Knowing me, it'll be another two-parter haha 🥂until then, take care!

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[strangerthanfiction]

“i’ll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you? that i would take you there? the splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?” - richard siken

( @ofcrouch​ )

[strangerthanfiction]

bitter are the wars between brothers...

[strangerthanfiction]

and it's wrong, wrong, wrong            (but we'll do it anyway 'cos we love a bit of trouble)

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“i don’t want to be just a nothing, a sick blank, withdrawal into myself forever. i just want something, beside the emptiness i’ve carried around in me all my life.” –– allen ginsburg

“a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it into the river                but then he’s still left    with the river. a man takes his sadness and throws it away                                            but then he’s still left with his hands.” –– richard siken

"i was not a lovable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs.” –– gillian flynn

“you will always be fond of me. i represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” –– oscar wilde

“power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.” –– george orwell

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Rabastan Edric Lestrange NICKNAMES: “Rab” by most, “Bash” by those who know him best, “Eddy” by his grandparents AGE: Twenty-six BIRTHDAY: April 13th, 1954 GENDER: Male, cisgender PRONOUNS: He/him/his

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Sabine Lestrange (nee Avery) (52) FATHER: Gaspard Lestrange (48) SIBLINGS: Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange (sister-in-law), Narcissa Lestrange (sister-in-law), Lucius Malfoy (brother-in-law), Andromeda Tonks (sister-in-law)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Penn Badgley BUILD: Fit, muscular, and clearly works at maintaining it. Wishes he was taller always. HAIR: Longer than it should be, according to his mother, growing out of the buzz cut he got in November, thick and wavy. He’s also sporting stubble that’s quickly turning into a beard. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, almost black EYE COLOR: Hazel on a normal day, amber on a sunny day, murky brown on a cloudy day SKIN COLOR: Pale, thin and translucent, like parchment. Anyone can see when he’s hungover or had a shitty night of sleep because his eyes look hollow and the skin underneath it looks almost purple. DOMINANT HAND: Right ANOMALIES:

TATTOOS: The Dark Mark on the inside of his right arm, a sketch of the sculpture of Laocoon and His Sons sketched out from the top of his left rib cage to his hip, the first lines of the Iliad on his collar bone, stretching from his left shoulder to his right shoulder, a stick and poke of a muggle ghost on the inside of his ankle, and, perhaps his favorite of them all, the word “TERROR” on the inside of his bottom lip. He charmed it so that, any time he flips his bottom lip out at the world to show the tattoo, the letters pop out in a magical version of a jump scare.

SCARS: His elbows and knees are shredded up from years of Quidditch and not following proper rules when it comes to healing potions. He’s got the slightest scar in his left eyebrow from falling off his broom when he was nine. Plus, he’s got the scrapes and scars of a fighter, a soldier, and he wears his ragged skin with the brashness and boldness of someone unafraid of battle.

SCENT: Tobacco, crisp linen, and, if he’s getting all dolled up, he puts just the tiniest dab of amortentia at his throat, because, well, “then I always smell good.” ACCENT: RP because his mother wouldn’t have her children sounding like scoundrels. But his Northern accent slips out every now and again when he’s particularly hammered. ALLERGIES: Bees. DISORDERS: Rapidly developing alcoholism. Slowly developing PTSD. FASHION: Punk but make it pureblood. Lots of silver rings with huge gemstones inset or crests carved into the metal. Amazing shoes always – be it chunky black combat boots, beautiful leather loafers, or the occasional (slightly) healed Chelsea boot. Skinny jeans and slouchy hoodies on his days alone in Manchester. Pressed shirts rolled up to the elbows and perfectly fitted trousers on his days at Lestrange Manor. His favorite robes are black velvet, with a gold clasp across the chest in the shape of a skull. And, of course, his clubbing outfits. Leather, mesh, crop tops (yes, Rab wears crop tops, and no, none of you will ever see it because he’s CAREFUL heh), muscle tanks, and the odd denim shorterall (with nothing underneath) moment. NERVOUS TICS: He used to bite his fingernails as a kid, but the nannies spanked that out of him. His oral fixation has been replaced with cigarettes – any slight bit of tension, and he’s lighting up. QUIRKS: He doesn’t know how to sit normally in a chair because he’s gay.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Lestrange Manor 75% of the time. His own flat in Manchester 25% of the time. BORN: In France, while his parents were on holiday. He wasn’t supposed to be due for another three weeks, but his mother’s water broke while she was on the beach, and Rabastan was born five hours later. RAISED: In Yorkshire, with every other summer abroad (France most years, but sometimes Italy or Spain, and one very special year, Norway), until he went to Hogwarts. PETS: Gunther, a black Great Dane, who lives at Lestrange Manor, and technically is both his and Rodolphus’ – their mother got the dog for them as a means to help them bond, but really, Gunther is Rabastan’s and only gets attention from Rodolphus when their mother is around, so as not to offend her. And, in Rabastan’s eyes, but probably not in the eyes of other, more progressive individuals, Iphigenia, the Lestrange family house elf.

CAREER: Spending the Lestrange fortune. Being a Death Eater. EXPERIENCE: He’s been doing it his whole life. Nine years. Since his final year at Hogwarts. EMPLOYER: Voldemort.

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters / Pureblood values. BELIEFS: Purebloods created this world, and now it’s their time to defend it. The Dark Lord is the only one capable of leading them to victory, and the purpose of men like Rabastan is to give him the aid he needs, no matter the personal cost. MISDEMEANORS: Truancy, defacing Hogwarts property, breaking curfew, bullying, tardiness, breaking dress code, and infinite more. He was never quiet about his rebellions, always laughing in the face of authority. And, now that he’s no longer at school, there’s nothing he can’t buy himself out of. FELONIES: Well. He’s killed more than a few people and gotten away with it, so. You do the math from there. DRUGS: Rabastan likes muggle drugs a little too much. Cocaine, particularly. He’s also been known to dabble in expensive, experimental potions from an alchemist the Lestranges have been using to cure their every ail and malady since Rabastan was a boy. SMOKES: Religiously. He started because every young boy wants to be just like their father at one point or another, and then he just never stopped. ALCOHOL: Rabastan’s rarely without a drink in his hand. It’s a glass of brandy as soon as he comes home, flask of whisky constantly at his hip, a Bloody Mary and some pepper up potion to eliminate his hangover first thing when he wakes up. It’s not a problem, he can stop at any point, or so he says. He learned how to be a functional alcoholic from all of the men he observed around him at a young age, and he’s found a very specific line – enough to feel gently numb, to feel invincible, but not so much that he’s incapacitated. And more and more, in recent months, especially since the disappearance of his brother, has he crossed that line. He’ll go through spurts of detoxing, of getting painfully sober for a few days, and then, he’ll be so overwhelmed by the world around him, by how loud it is, by how unforgiving, by how painful it can be, and then he’s right back where he was, with a bottle in one hand and a bump on the back of the other. DIET: Rabastan eats extremely well. Mostly vegetarian, except for fish, lots of legumes and greens, lots of fiber, etc. He knows how much crap he puts into his body, and while he doesn’t particularly care about the fact that he’s shortening his life, he does care about what it does to his physique. And, of course, the trade off is never going to be equal, but he does try to eat as cleanly as he can.

LANGUAGES: English, French, German, and self-taught Latin

PHOBIAS: If you asked him, he’d say he has none. And that’s mostly true. But there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t think about getting outed to his family and then being banished by the Lestranges for his deviant behavior, and there isn’t a day that goes by where the very thought is enough to turn his blood to ice. HOBBIES: Drinking, fighting, fucking. When he’s not indulging his vices, he’s actually quite a scholar – he’s read through every book in his father’s study twice, and he taught himself Latin when he was thirteen. He also loves flying and still takes to a broomstick when he needs to clear his head. He’s also surprisingly adept at tending to plants (he effortlessly got O’s in Herbology his whole time at Hogwarts), and he’s got a lovely, melodic voice.  TRAITS: { + }: Quick-thinking, fierce, loyal, playful { - }: Reckless, vulgar, lazy, submissive

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Spiny Serpent, specifically the secret fight club in the basement. It’s his favorite place in the world, the one place where he actually feels alive and free. He’ll heal all of his visible injuries with magic, but sometimes, he’ll leave a bruised rib or a tweaked knee because the pain of it reminds him that he’s alive, he’s present, he’s real. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps (and United ever since he started living in Manchester, but he’d rather be caught dead than admit to following the muggle Premiere league) GAME: Quidditch and he’s trying to start his own Swivenhodge league MUSIC: Much to his mother’s distaste, he’s an avid Hobgoblins fan, and his father begrudgingly took both his boys to meet Stubby when they were fifteen and eighteen respectively. Rab would never admit to listening to Celestina Warbeck, but after he’s had a few, he’s been known to do his own rendition of, “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love” MOVIES: Too muggle. Absolutely not. (But he’d fucking love ALIEN if he knew it existed) FOOD: Venison, so rare it’s still bloody BEVERAGE: Double whisky on the rocks COLOR: Gold

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 13 inches, Holly, Dragon Heart String, Brittle AMORTENTIA: Pine trees, cigar smoke, candied ginger, and the unmistakable musk of all the men he’s ever fucked (oops) PATRONUS: A Deerhound BOGGART: A blue ticket. Even though he’s no expert in muggle history, he spends enough time in queer muggle spaces to know what they are, and the first time he found out about that, the first time someone told him about dishonorable discharge because of something so seemingly trivial, it made his blood turn to ice. He couldn’t shake the image, the idea of it, and to this day, he avoids boggarts at all costs because he knows it’ll give away his secret.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral MBTI: ENFP MBTI ROLE: The Campaigner ENNEAGRAM: Type 6 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Loyalist / the Skeptic TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine WESTERN ZODIAC: Aries CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse PRIMAL SIGN: Hammerhead Shark TAROT CARD: The Devil TV TROPES: Beard of Sorrow, Millionaire Playboy, Black Shirt, Draco in Leather Pants, Lovable Rogue, Punch-clock Villain SONGS:

1. balaclava by the arctic monkeys 2. bury a friend by billie eilish 3. to be so lonely by harry styles 4. make up your mind by florence & the machine 5. winter of our youth by bastille 6. broken crown by mumford & sons 7. i’m still standing by elton john 8. people by the 1975 9. ball and a biscuit by the white stripes 10. let’s have a kiki by scissor sisters (am i joking? idk)

IDEOLOGIES:

Adores birthdays and refuses to let people get away with not celebrating them. He loves any excuse to drink and party, and he knows he gives a mean toast, so people might as well fucking celebrate so he can put his skills on display. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Despite the contradictory nature of this, he doesn’t hate all members of the Order / all blood traitors on principle. He understands that they’re just trying to defend their place in the universe, and frankly, he respects the survival instincts he’s seeing play out. Of course, he knows his side is going to win – that’s inevitable. But it’s still admirable to see them all go down with such a valiant fight.

Hates cats. Period, full stop.

Refuses to go to St. Mungo’s, or any hospital for that matter. His uncle on his maternal side went there for a minor illness and came out in a box. Rabastan was seven, and his tiny brain came to the conclusion that the hospital was what did in his uncle, not his illness. And now, Rab knows how illogical it is, but he’d rather pay the family healer to come take a look at him than go to the doctor.

Would rather stand on public transportation than sit next to a stranger because he loves his own personal space just a little too much

As much as he does spend his family’s money a little too freely, no one can ever accuse Rab of hoarding his wealth. He always buys a round for everyone in the bar, picks up the check without being asked, buys things for his friends that they want but don’t need, lets people crash at Lestrange Manor whenever they need to. He’s not miserly in the slightest, not like Rodolphus.

Never makes a crucial decision without consulting a seer first. His mother taught him the habit.

Always flips one cigarette in the pack when he buys a new one.

No matter what time he wakes up, breakfast food has to be the first food he eats.