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gaycragula · 8 months ago

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Hello there

Please could i request a child male reader (around 9-12, maybe younger idk you can choose) x 141. Platonic obv. Reader is being held hostage for reasons and they have to go on a rescue mission. When reader is saved he’s scared of them all except ghost who he just clings onto LMAO

cheers mate 🙏

Lost and Found

Pairing: 141 x Child Male Reader (Platonic!!!!) Warning(s): Heavy implication of parent death, politician family, child reader, locked in a basement, he gets fed i promise, i have no idea how the military works, angst? Word Count: 2069 Masterlist

The walls were an ugly, cracks running along them, and you’re sure there was mold growing in one of the corners. The only light in the room was a small lightbulb in the center of the room that was rarely left on. The only door leading out of the room was locked from the outside. You’re not sure you exactly wanted to leave the room. Not with the heavy thumps of feet that stomped through the first floor of the home.

It was a nice summer day when it happened. You’d just finished a nice dinner with your parents when the sirens began to blare. The sound cut your ears and you covered your ears, trying to block out the noise. You were whisked out of your chair by your dad before you could get up yourself.

Hushed words were shared between your parents as they rushed through the home to the basement. Your father’s grip was tight on you as he toted you down the stairs, your mother right on his heels.

Dad set you down in a corner, trying to keep you out of direct sight of the stairs. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, your mother doing the same.

“Be good and stay here,” your mom whispers, giving you a pained smile. Her lip quivered as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Mom and Dad love you. We always will.”

. Then, they left you, footsteps receding back up the stairs into the home. You heard the door shut and a silent darkness covered you. The silence only lasted for a moment.

Something crashed upstairs and loud bangs made you cover your ears again. You curled further into the corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible. More crashing and something heavy hitting the ground sounded before it fell silent again. It was over… right?

The basement door slammed open and you gave a full body flinch. A flurry of steps rocketed down the stairs. Way too many to be just your parents.

Five or six men came into your sightline. Each of them looked like they were armed to the teeth and it sent a jolt of fear through you. These men just ran through your house. Where your parents were. Where were your parents?

They scoured the basement, flashlights leading their guns as they searched. For what? You weren’t quite sure but you hoped they would just look over you. The fear surging through your body was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe, each breath fighting to force its way out silently. You tried to stay hidden for as long as possible but their flashlights soon exposed you.

They said something you couldn’t understand before moving on and returning upstairs when they finished. You heard the faint click of the lock to the basement and you were left in the basement by yourself again. You tried to fight the tears that began falling down your cheeks as you curled in on yourself. It wasn’t a very long fight and your face soon became wet with your tears. It hit you then that you’d probably never see your parents again.

It had been a week since it had happened. The men would leave food for you at the top of the stairs. You spent the majority of your days sitting under the light in the room, playing whatever you could find. Trying to distract your mind. You were suddenly happy your parents kept a chunk of toys down in the basement for storage.

Totes of toy cars that you pretended to race with, some toy dinosaurs you’d gotten years ago, left forgotten in the basement until now. There were planks of wood you’d dragged over that you drew on with some chalk your parents kept down there. The chalk worked well on the walls as well.

Drawings littered the small walls of the basement. Cars and dinosaurs littered the floor. Your house.. Your home, your family. Where did it all go?

You’ve tried to talk to the men on multiple occasions but they only either looked at you with disdain or spoke in a language you couldn’t understand.

On the eighth day of the occupation, you heard those loud bangs and the shouts of men again. You started crying again, you didn’t even have a chance to try to stop it as you scrambled back into a corner in the room again, hopefully out of sight. Out of mind.

It felt like ages before the house fell silent again. You heard the doorknob wiggle, muffled voices coming from the otherside. Light filtered into the basement as the door creaked open. “After you, Sergeant,” a gruff voice huffs, a hint of teasing to the tone.

A short laugh followed the words before steps were coming down the stairs again, flashlights dancing over the walls as they descended. “Ohhhh hell, look at this, LT,” a second voice whispers, a light lingering on the drawings on the wall. Silence fell again as the sound of more boots started down the stairs, flashlights whipping around the room before one fell on your form.

—-----------------------

Clearing the home was easy. The bastards inside weren’t expecting an attack for a while. A home far outside any city line would surely work as a temporary base, right?

They thought so at least. So when the Scotsman barged through the door followed by six others, the occupants weren’t prepared. The firefight was short. The men inside scrambling to get to their weapons as fast as possible.

It was Roach who’d noticed the door to the basement, calling over the rest of the team. “What d’ya thinks down there?” Soap chuckles as Ghost takes a hand at picking the lock. “More guys? Prisoners they been keepin’?”

“If I had to take a guess, probably prisoners. Family who lived here was big in the political field here. Probably kept them as hostages for ransom,” Price says, gesturing for two of the guys to stand guard at the front and back doors.

The door clicked open and slowly swung open with a nasty creak. “After you, Sergeant,” Ghost huffs, nudging the Scotsman forward. Soap let out a short laugh before starting into the dimly lit basement. Ghost close behind him. Soap’s flashlight scanned the floors and walls. He noticed dinosaurs and cars littering the floor around the bottom of the stairs. He initially thought nothing of it. They knew a young kid lived here.

He was almost to the bottom as his light scanned over a big drawing of a home and a family of three drawn in chalk.

He felt his heart drop at the image. Soap was no master in chalk or anything, but the drawing looked pretty new. “Ohhh hell, look at this LT,” he says, nudging the other. Ghost went rigid for a second before gesturing back up the stairs for the other three to come down quickly.

Flashlights scoured the basement, Soap wandering towards the darkest part of the basement. His light danced over the stone floor before the body of a little boy was illuminated.

“Over here,” Soap calls out, almost missing the way the kid jerked in response to his words. Soap handed Price his gun before crouching down next to the boy. Your eyes were locked onto him, tear stains evident on your cheeks and fear clouding your eyes. “We’re here to help ya,” Soap says, trying to offer his hand to you.

“Back off the kid, Soap,” Ghost mutters. “He’s scared shitless.”

Soap let out a quiet, barely audible sigh as he stood back up and stepped back to join the rest of his team.

Your eyes shot from man to man. Your breath was heavy in your chest and you could hear yourself wheezing because of it. “Where are my parents?” You almost sobbed. Your voice was hoarse, throat tight as you waited for an answer.

The men felt their hearts drop at the pure pain in your voice. This kid, no older than 11 or 12 had his life turned upside down in a matter of fifteen minutes just a week ago.

It was Ghost who made the first, well technically second, advance towards you, much to the surprise of the rest of the team. Just as surprising was the way you sat up to be face to face with him as he crouched down.

He pulled a small picture out of pocket and handed it to you. It was a picture of your parents and yourself that you’d never seen before. “I don’t know where your parents are, but I do know that if you remain here, you’ll never find them,” Ghost spoke lowly. Just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded in understanding, shoving the picture in your pocket as Ghost stood up. He went to turn back to the team but paused when your hand grabbed his. You avoided his gaze when he looked back at you but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he picked you up and maneuvered you onto his back.

“Thank you,” you mumble, laying your head down on his back.

Ghost turned towards his team who were all gawking at the scene before them. “Get goin’ and quit starin’ at me like that,” he huffs, nodding towards the stairs before turning to speak to Roach, Gaz, and Soap. “Get the kid some clothes and we’re gettin’ out of here.”

“Aye, L.T,” Soap almost stutters, pushing Roach and Gaz towards the stairs. Price chuckled to himself before heading up the stairs after the three, rounding up the other two that he’d stationed up there.

“What’s your name?” Ghost hears you ask quietly.

“They call me Ghost,” the man answers as he heads up the stairs. He felt you nod against his back and you fell silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

You tell him your name, which he already knew but he wasn’t going to tell you that. That started a short and quiet conversation between the two of you. You asked how long he’d been in the military, where he was from, what his family was like and Ghost answered you and asked you the same questions in return.

It was a stark contrast to what the 141 was used to. Ghost was generally quiet on these kinds of missions. “It’s gotta be the kid,” Gaz whispers to Soap who nods in agreement.

“Yeah but what about this kid is different from others we’ve found?” Soap whispers back, rubbing his jaw as he watched you and Ghost interact. Gaz shrugged in response before Roach chimed in.

“Maybe he reminds him of a family member? Younger brother or nephew?” Roach suggests and it was like a lightbulb went off in the other two’s heads.

“That’s gotta be it,” Soap nods. “Does anyone know anythin’ ‘bout his family?”

Gaz and Roach shake their heads and Soap sighs. He opened his mouth to say something else, stopping when he saw Ghost shoot a look over his shoulder at him.

“Quit chattin’. Be on guard. We’re still in hostile territory,” Price mutters, ignoring the noise of complaint the three made before begrudgingly doing what they were told.

It was your first time on an aircraft. You were glued to Ghost’s side, eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Soap had tried to get your attention a couple times to no avail. If you did make eye contact with him, you were quick to look away as quick as possible.

The others didn’t have much luck either. Roach had tried to speak to you while Ghost was carrying you and all you’d done was bury your face into the fabric of Ghost’s shirt.

Price had been the most outward about it, asking to actually carry you so give Ghost a break. That was the only time you’d spoken to anyone besides Ghost. “No,” was all that came from your mouth as you shook your head. Ghost had chuckled and told Price he was good to carry you the whole way.

Ghost had given you his hand to basically ‘play’ with. You braided his fingers, bending them and whatever else you could do to keep your mind calm. The rest of the team couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces at the sight.

Who would’ve guessed. The big bad Ghost had actually a big softie.

#kid reader #kid male reader #male reader #reader #call of duty #soap cod #ghost cod #roach cod #captain john price #gaz cod #extra unnamed characters #parent death #heavily implied #hostage situation #fluff #angst question mark #angst #yippee im working on requests that are like a year old

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shady-tavern · 1 year ago

Text

Deals and Revelry

Warnings ahead of both attempted and implied murder, along with one, early-on instance of non-consensual drug use. Please take care of yourselves.

***

In a city as big as this it was easy to get lost, easy to slip between the cracks. Easy to go unnoticed even if one walked like a severely drunk sailor fresh back on the shore.

You stumbled against the alley wall, woozy and half numb and your vision was just the faintest bit off, the world around you roiling as though the ground itself had become the sea, rising and falling in slow, cresting waves.

Your breath was fogging in front of your face and you knew it was too cold to be out and about without a cloak, but you hadn't really gotten to grab one. Or shoes. You couldn't really feel your feet anymore.

But you were getting close. Already you could see the lights and colorful banners and decorations on the other side of the alley. You could hear it too, the sound of the Revelry, the biggest entertainment street of this city. A cesspool of backroom deals and unfettered delight.

Music and laughter mixed with the breathy moans of a couple that stumbled into the alley, the women pushing each other against the brick wall, one hoisting the other into her arms. You saw the glint of metal on one of them, the armor of the city guard and the cloak that fell down to her knees, cloth a dark forest green.

Neither paid you any mind when you shuffled down the alley, using the wall as your anchor. At this point it was the only thing properly keeping you up and walking in a straight line. You must look drunk, even if you were anything but.

You barely felt the cold with the numbness and as you stumbled out of the alley, it felt like you were hit by a wall of light and sound and movement. Lanterns were strung all across the street, reaching from house to house and the glass painted or stained, casting a multitude of colors across everything.

People danced in big groups or on tables, more getting pulled into alleys by one or more people, big grins on their faces. Dancers and musicians performed on the stage by the crossroads that led to the Revelry, while other stages were dotted down the street, showing off other performers.

Sword jugglers, puppeteers, actors and jesters all put on the show of the night, accompanied by music. Fortune tellers weaved through the crowd, peddlers with carts stood on corners and servers with strong arms brought round after round of drinks and food from taverns. Others lured the drunk or amorously interested towards many of the inns, slipping clever hands into unguarded coat pockets.

You had to take a moment to get used to everything and orientate yourself, to look beyond the street wide revelry towards the main house. Bigger than all the others, a four story building, freshly painted pale green walls surrounded by black wood.

Through the lit windows you saw more partying, more dancing and someone swinging through the air gracefully.

That was your destination.

You pushed off of the corner you had stumbled against and walked onward, forcing one unsteady step in front of the other. People barely noticed when you staggered past them, some even clapping you on the back and pointing towards inns before they continued on their way.

You passed tables laden with food and drink, tables where people played games, cards and dice and something that needed a knife and quick reflexes. The air smelled heavily of ale and perfume and sweat.

Coats and skirts billowed, hands clapping and boots meeting cobblestone like muted drums when you passed by a group of dancers.

It felt like it took forever to make your way to the main house, the Revelry that this street, this gathering was named after. A big sign was mounted over the large entrance door, made of dark green wood and gold letters that looked freshly polished, shining in the light.

You shouldered inside, heat and smells greeting you, followed by loud cheers. So loud and from so many throats they seemed to make the air itself rumble.

Past the shifting bodies you got glimpses of a stage that went up to the second floor, of people swinging through the air, colorful figures catching others.

The crowd cheered loudly once again, tankards getting raised or slammed onto tables in time with the jig the musicians played. Coin clattered and servers maneuvered past patrons like they were made of water, never slowing down, perfect smiles pasted on their faces.

It took you a long minute to spot him, the owner of this place, the founder of the Revelry, Quin. There were many whispers about this man who owned the night and even had the city guard unable to stop his dealings.

Face painted white with black tracks down his cheeks like tears, his lips were stained a bloody red and his grin was just a little too sharp. His canines just a tad too long. For all that he leaned back in his seat, languid and relaxed, he gave off an air of effortless power and dangerous grace.

He was dressed in expensive finery, diamond studded jewelry and silken, embroidered clothes that only the highest ranking noble houses would have been able to afford. Everything was modeled to resemble a court jester, a clear and unashamed mockery of those in power.

There were rumors about him, things you had heard here and there, whispers shared by friends and overheard from chatting guards who wishing to unsettle the new recruit. People said he had stopped being a mortal man before ever coming to this city, that he commanded the shadows and drank blood like wine.

That he had made a pact with something that should have been left damn well alone. Something older and more dangerous than anything else.

As you tried to make your way towards him, stumbling into strangers who shoved you onward with either laughs or glares, you saw that he was speaking with a nervous looking man.

The man was tall and broad, shoulders tense and posture wary as he gripped his tankard, speaking to Quin about something. You couldn't hear what was being said, but Quin threw his head back and laughed and the burly man visibly grit his teeth, leaning back slightly as though worried.

Quin grinned at him, sharp teeth and dangerous eyes and waved a hand in a lazy gesture. A whip-thin woman melted out of the shadows, dressed in all black and with a blank, white mask covering her face.

She came to stand at Quin's side and offered him a rolled up piece of parchment. Quin took it and held it out towards the burly man, still grinning.

The man took it after a long second of hesitation and the woman held out a quill next. There was no ink, but the man seemed to be able to sign anyway and you got a glimpse of bloody ink flowing from the dry quill.

His face was grim when he handed the scroll back and the woman stepped forward when Quin accepted it, waiting and arms loose at her sides.

The man got up and she followed him and they disappeared into the crowd. When Quin got to his feet, you made yourself move faster. He couldn't slip away. Not when you were so damn close.

You tripped over someone's foot, the person giving you an annoyed shove, but it propelled you forward the last bit. Undignified, yes, but Quin caught you before you could fall to your face.

"Now there, usually I have to put in some work to make people swoon like this," he said with a mocking undertone, pulling you upright with seemingly no effort at all. Before he could let go, you gripped his arms, making him raise his brows.

"Here for a deal," you managed to slur out and for just a moment it looked like he was going to send you away anyway, before he paused and leaned in.

"You are not drunk," he said, a warm finger curling under your chin to tip it up, making your gaze meet his dark eyes. "Tell me, did you intend to ingest a drug?"

Your grip on his arms tightened and a smile curled across his face that managed to be far more dangerous than the one the burly man had gotten. The sort of smile that made it easy to imagine blood being spilled and a last breath being exhaled.

"Now, I don't like that in my establishment at all," he downright purred, moving in a step, head bending down towards you a bit. He was propping you up with his body more than anything else with how close he was and you were glad he hadn't shaken you off. "Why don't you point me to the one who did that, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. It was getting harder to think and you could feel his warmth through the numbness that gripped your limbs. You had no idea how much longer you could fight this off, especially now that you had finally found him and you didn't have to force yourself to keep moving.

You were just so relieved you thoughtlessly leaned into his hold. The only reason you caught the brief flash of surprise in his eyes was because you were so close to him.

"I need a deal," you managed to say, unable to raise your voice much, but with him right there, breath lightly brushing your nose and cheek, he heard you well enough. "Please."

"Why don't you tell me what happened first, hm?" he asked, curled finger still under your chin. His brows furrowed slightly. "You are quite cold, were you outside until recently?" His dangerous grin returned. "I can find out who did this, even if it was down the street, don't you worry."

"My fiancé," you said and the smile fell away as his brows rose. "His mother is going to kill my parents and then me. They will do it after the wedding tomorrow. Please."

"Hm." He seemed curious at least. "Why not go to the city guard? I know I'm never the first resort, only the desperate and degenerate come here." He leaned a little closer still, your noses almost touching, revealing a hint of his sharp teeth as he smiled. "You do know what kind of deals I offer, don't you, sweetheart?"

"They're too rich," you made yourself say. Your tongue felt heavier than before and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. "They have deals with the captain of the guard."

Quin suddenly sounded delighted. "Is that so? How delightful, I knew Albert was going to slip up one day. Thank you for that one, darling. But why not grab your parents and go away instead of coming here?"

"They arranged the wedding." And you hadn't even minded at first. The wealthy merchant's son had been pleasant enough after all, polite and maybe a bit reserved but not unfriendly.

Neither of you would have married for love, but during the conversations you had shared with the young, admittedly pretty man, it had become clear the two of you could have come to a good agreement.

Not all marriages were unions of hearts after all and there were plenty of ways to make it work. Plenty of ways to treat this like any old business agreement that both sides could benefit from. You had even thought the two of you could become good friends in given time.

Until you had overheard his mother's plans by accident tonight and had gotten discovered when you had tried to sneak away from her study. Your fiancé had done nothing when your future mother in law had gotten her personal guard to grab you before you could flee.

Your future mother in law had put some clear liquid into a cup of water while the guard had wrestled you towards her, muttering that you had to keep quiet until the wedding. That your parents wouldn't care about the state you were in so long as you signed the wedding contract.

She wasn't even wrong. Your parents would never again get the sort of deal the merchant had made with them. Your parents' business would join together with hers and it would make everyone all the richer. But if everyone died after the wedding, then your future mother in law would get to own your family business through her son.

Your parents wanted wealth too much themselves and unless you had managed to prove that your fiancé mistreated you, which he never did, they wouldn't stop the wedding for anything. Neither would they believe you if you showed up with wild sounding accusations such as planned murder out of nowhere.

Your future mother in law had proceeded to shove the concoction down your throat once she had it in the cup – or part of it at least.

It had been nothing but pure luck that you had managed to take hold of the guard's dagger at their hip and draw it. It had been a mad scramble where you had lashed out in a blind panic, the guard falling back with a howl and hands pressed over their bleeding face.

You had stabbed your future mother in law right in the thigh and had run, managing to toss a vase at your fiancé's head. Then you had kept running straight here. The only place you could think of to get help. The only place you trusted would help you, even if you'd have to give up something in the process.

You just wanted to live.

"I see." Quin tipped your chin up again, your head having slumped down a bit. You met his gaze and there was a red, fiery glow lurking in his dark eyes as though embers had come to life. "Want to me to get rid of your parents too?"

"No." They hadn't been...great, recently, but you wanted to deal with them yourself. "I don't want to die."

"I suppose you wouldn't," Quin murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear him. "Alright then, let's get you situated."

He moved his arm to hold you around the shoulders and bending down to pick you up under your knees. His words registered and you sagged with relief at once, pressing your head against his shoulder.

You felt him pause for just a moment and you felt the shift of muscle along his neck as he looked down at you.

"Aren't you a strange one," you heard him murmur. He was quiet for a second, then chuckled, low and dark. "Just alone to spite you I will do exactly that."

It didn't sound like he was speaking to you and he turned around, walking away from the press of bodies. Even half passed out you noticed it when the air shifted and five people stepped straight out of the shadows.

They were all masked, blank or painted, their clothes either black or colorful. You moved your head enough to peer past Quin's shoulder and you saw the glint on metal on them, blades and daggers, armor hidden under cloaks and silk shawls.

They looked nothing like the guards or mercenaries, but each and every one of them felt threatening enough that you half expected to cut yourself on their presences alone.

But most dangerous of them all was Quin. He felt like walking death as he held you, something so dangerous it would have stolen your breath away under any other circumstance. Instead, it made you relax further, one hand rising to lightly grip his sinfully soft silk doublet.

Quin hummed softly and this time, the words were directed at you as he said, "You are very strange indeed."

"Boss?" you heard one of the masked ones ask and when Quinn made a low noise, they stepped past to open a door at the back of the large tavern room. "What's your order?"

"I think we're going to have fun tonight," Quin said, voice light, but if words were capable of dripping blood, his would have, staining his tongue and sliding down his chin, thick and copper-sweet.

Quin carried you down a hallway and another door was opened within a few moments. The sound of the revelry was muffled and almost far away now as he stepped into a room and a couple of steps later you were gently set down on a couch that was softer than your own bed.

"You're not even wearing shoes," Quin mused and paused when you found yourself holding onto his sleeve when he stepped back. "Easy now, sweetheart, we'll take care of that little mess, won't we?"

"Thank you," you managed to slur out and he hummed again, waiting with unexpected patience for you to let go. When you did, he spread something warm and heavy over you. A blanket. "Sleep now. Believe it or not, but you will be safe here."

"I know." And you did believe him. Somehow, despite everything you had been taught and all the rumors you had heard, Quin felt safe. Safe enough that the fear that had driven you to his Revelry finally released it's bruising grip on you altogether.

Warm knuckles brushed your cheek. "You actually do believe it," Quin murmured. "That's a first, I have to admit."

"Deal?" you made yourself ask, because everyone knew that Quin always made deals. He never did anything for free.

Quin was silent for a long moment. Long enough that you thought he wouldn't answer, until he said, "You already gave me something no one else has. Not in a very long time at least. Let that be my payment. Rest, sweetheart. Your worries will be dead when you wake."

You heard rustling as he shifted and turned around to walk away.

"My friends," Quin said, voice strong and confident and there was a deep rumble to his words, something just a little too unnatural. No human throat should be able to make that sound.

The last words you heard before you faded into unconsciousness were said with a grin that dripped with malevolent violent, "Tonight we hunt."

*.*.*

You woke up with your head pounding and your mouth tasting the way old, wet socks smelled. Your body ached all over and when you tried to shift, you ended up groaning and burrowing more into the pillow. A pillow that smelled nothing like yours.

"Good morning," an amused voice said and you blearily forced your eyes open and looked up.

There he was, Quin, the founder of the Revelry. Your memories of last were a little foggy, but mostly you recalled his warmth and how safe you had felt. You still felt safe and warm now, bundled beneath a thick, soft blanket.

"Still not afraid, I see," he mused and leaned back a bit. He wore different clothes to last night, something a bit more muted, but the face paint was still there. "I have to thank you, we had quite a bit of fun tracing back your steps and getting to hunt."

His head tipped and his smile widened into that dangerous grin, showing his teeth. His lips were painted a blood red so vivid you wouldn't have been surprised if he had used actual, fresh blood. "Want a trophy?"

"No, thank you." You winced at how croaky your voice sounded and you forced yourself to sit up, limbs aching. You blinked when an elegant hand offered you a cup of water.

You took it and for just a split second you remembered the way your future mother in law had forced spiked water down your throat, then you shook off the memory. Quin of all people had no need to drug your drink, especially when he had had you drugged and at his mercy just hours prior.

"What do I owe you?" you asked after emptying the cup.

Quin raised a brow and sat down on the other end of the couch, thigh nearly brushing your toes. He leaned back, throwing one arm over the backrest of the couch as he regarded you with dark, curious eyes. "You're not going to ask if we took care of the problem?"

"You always do," you answered. "At least, that's what I heard."

"A business man such as myself takes great pride in a good reputation," Quin mused. "You are correct, they are very much dead. I would not recommend visiting that house anytime soon if it can be avoided."

"Thank you." The relief was still as potent as last night, thought not quite as soul-deep, for the fear wasn't there anymore. "What do I owe you?"

Quin waved you off with a dismissive flap of his hand. "You already paid, don't you worry your pretty little head." Before you could do so much as open your mouth to protest, he got to his feet again. "And now I will be dreadfully rude by tossing you out on your ear. I need my office back, sweetheart."

Blinking, you realized that you were, indeed, in an office. Lavishly decorated, with a rug as black as coal and, very, very faintly visible stains along the hardwood that you were willing to identify as dried blood.

"Of course, I'm sorry for being a bother," you said hurriedly, freeing your legs from the blanket, but the moment you tried to get up, your feet bumped into shoes. Looking down in surprise, you saw simple shoes in your size, a little scuffed but otherwise well maintained.

"I'll pay you for these," you offered and Quin rolled his eyes as you put them on.

"Just bring them back later. Now, please go." He ushered you up and pushed you out the door with a polite smile, gesturing down the hallway to the door that led into the tavern.

Instead of closing the door, however, he leaned against the doorframe and a bare moment later the door to the tavern swung open and the captain of the guard marched inside.

Before you knew it, you had shied back to Quin's side, as Albert glowered at you so viciously it wouldn't have surprised you if his glare had seared your skin like acid.

"No need to be impolite, Captain," Quin said with a smile sharp enough to peel away layers of skin. Albert flinched, just a little and the way he averted his gaze to his feet was all the more noticeable for it. "We're just going to have a friendly chat."

Quin pressed one warm palm against the small of your back. "Go on," he murmured, leaning closer to you, his warm breath brushing the shell of your ear. "He won't do anything." He raised his voice without moving back, gaze pinning Albert in place the way a scientist would pin down a helpless butterfly. "Won't he?"

Albert said nothing, but he stopped walking and moved over to the side, freeing up as much of the hallway as he could. Quin gave you a small push and you walked on, shuffling past the captain of the guard, feeling like a scurrying mouse.

You glanced back just once when you reached the door. Quin regarded Albert with feigned, gentle politeness as he walked past him into his office, the door closing behind the two of them.

Barely anyone was in the tavern at this hour when you stepped into the large room. Some hungover people sat at the bar, stirring oatmeal or nibbling on dry bread, looking either a bit green or half asleep.

The place was cleaner than it would have been elsewhere after a night of wild partying. No smashed glass was anywhere, not even spilled, sticky residue from drinks. Everything from the bartop to the tables and the floor looked freshly wiped down.

The air was still cool, but not as cold as last night when you left the tavern, the sky overcast.

The street outside the Revelry looked cleaned up as well, tables moved to the side, chairs stacked on top, to make for easy passing. A carriage rattled through and you heard someone puke in an alley as you passed by with quick steps.

It felt almost unreal as you made your way home. Your childhood home, not the big townhouse you had stayed in in preparation for your wedding. Your parents were at the kitchen table, greeting you with smiles when you entered.

"Looking forward to your big day?" your father asked as he buttered his breadroll. "Your dress is waiting upstairs for you."

They didn't know yet. You took a deep breath and it filled your lungs in a way it hadn't for weeks. You felt free, you realized. Free of your fiancé and a future you hadn't wanted, even if you would have accepted it with dignity and plans to make things work to the best of your abilities.

You took another deep breath, marveling at how much lighter you felt. "There won't be a wedding," you said and the words almost made you smile. When your parents looked up, surprised and worried, you added, "They got killed last night."

It was as though your parents saw you properly for the first time. Your nightclothes which were inappropriate to leave the house in, the shoes they had never seen you wear before and your somewhat bedraggled and worn appearance.

"What happened?" your father asked at the same time as your mother said, "What did you do?"

And now you did smile, just a little. It wasn't a happy expression and you probably looked more like you were baring your teeth. "I made sure I lived."

*.*.*

The Revelry was filled with overlapping conversations and the occasional laugh as the afternoon crowd ate their lunch, spread out around the tables.

Already preparations for tonight's party were in full swing, decorations being pinned in place and some performers were warming up, others checking the trapeze and ribbons to ensure nothing could go wrong.

Quin was at the bar, speaking with the barkeep who listened with an attentive frown. She gave an understanding nod and Quin tapped the bar with his palm, smiling in languid satisfaction.

He then noticed your approach, smiling easily at you as he turned to face you, leaning back against the bar, elbows braced on the bartop. He looked just as confident and in control as a king might on his throne.

"Sweetheart, what brings me the pleasure of your presence?" he asked as you approached. Today his outfit was as blood red as his lips, accented with black and his jewelry glinted gold, the rubies looking like drops of blood that hung from his ears and decorated his neck and hands.

"I'm going to return your shoes," you said and he waved you off when you presented them.

"I don't remember where I got them," he said with a shrug. "Leave them by the door if you like. Someone will pick them up at some point."

"Oh." You were about to step away again, Quin's attention already moving on, the conversation over in his mind, when you paused. You knew he said you had paid already, even if you had no idea how or when or with what, but it didn't feel like enough. "Let me take you out to dinner."

His dark gaze snapped back to you and from the corner of your eye you noticed the barkeeper openly gawk at you.

"Are you asking me out?" he sounded bemused and the faintest bit baffled. Realizing how your offer had sounded, you floundered for a moment, then shrugged awkwardly, waving around the shoes as you gestured.

"Just...I want to say thank you properly." When he was about to speak, you quickly added, "I know, you said I paid already, but I still want to do this. You did more than you had to that night."

The barkeep downright stared at you now, looking gobsmacked that you had interrupted her boss, her gaze bouncing between you two. Quin tipped his head, earrings glinting in the light that fell through the window. Then he smiled and shrugged.

"Alright, why not." He pushed off the bar, gesturing for you to go ahead. "Besides, what fool turns down a free meal? Lead the way, my dear."

You left the shoes beside the entrance beneath the coat rack, like he had suggested. A carriage was waiting outside, the one you had taken to this place and the driver was visibly uncomfortable when Quin smiled at him as he helped you inside with a slightly exaggerated bow.

"Fancy," Quin said with a toothy grin as he sat down across from you and you knocked against the roof, the carriage lurching into motion. "I can't say I've been asked out like this before."

"You did mention having trouble to make people fall for you," you found yourself saying and he blinked, then threw his head back as he laughed.

"Oh, I think I like you," he said, eyes looking even darker than before, his smile sharper. "This might be a fun outing after all. Say, where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," you answered and he leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees as though the carriage wasn't jostling the two of you around slightly.

"Can I guess?" he asked and at your shrug, he began to list places, starting with some waterholes you had heard the worst kind of stories about and ending with places so fancy and expensive only nobility would have been able to afford them.

You had to laugh at his latest suggestion and the carriage slowed to a stop a moment later. "Alright, we're here."

You got out first and offered your hand with the same exaggerated bow as he had and he grinned down, accepting it with over-the-top aplomb. Then he looked up, face brightening. "Oh my, you have chosen unexpectedly well."

You smiled and led the way inside. It wasn't easy to get a table in this place on short notice, but you had been lucky. A patron had cancelled their reservation just moments before you had shown up.

The server showed you to a table that had a good view of the stage and while he was polite, you noticed that he seemed unable to meet Quin's eyes.

All the patrons around you seemed uncomfortable, turning tense and quiet as the two of you sat down. You noticed some whispering and two people subtly getting up and hurrying away. If Quin noticed as well, he made no mention of it.

Just after ordering food and drink, the first musician showed up and the strangers around you stopped mattering. There was no need to pay attention to anything else when people sang and played their instruments so wonderfully. Quin seemed more than happy to watch the performances as well.

"I think I have to see if I can poach some of them," he mused quietly during an interlude. He was half done with his meal and you were certain it should have grown cold by now, but it was still steaming slightly.

He turned back to you, looking thoughtful. "Are you trying to butter me up for something? Are you in need of a deal now that your future prospect has been...scattered." He said the last word with the sort of smile that felt like it should drip blood down his chin.

"No." You knew just how damn lucky you were that he hadn't demanded a proper deal from you. That whatever you had given him that night, it somehow had been payment enough. You would not tangle with that again if you could help it. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Hm." He watched you a moment longer, then cut into his steak again. "I believe you."

The performances resumed shortly after and it was quite a pleasant meal. When at last it was over and Quin and you got up, the other patrons hung back, giving the two of you quite a berth.

Quin was in high spirits, talking easily about what he had liked and enjoyed, gesturing and there was a small spring in his step.

"I have to say, that has been the best meal I had in quite a while," he said, offering his arm as you approached the stairs. You took it readily and he was still as warm as you remembered.

"I'm glad," you said. "I quite enjoyed myself as well." It had been unexpectedly easy to spend time with Quin. He clearly didn't care about impressing others or bothered to worry about what anyone thought of him and it was rather refreshing.

"Well, if you find yourself in need for a dinner companion again, you know where to find me," he said as he stopped in front of the carriage that had returned in time to pick you up. He helped you inside but didn't follow when you waited for him. "There are some artists I have to speak with. See you around, love."

He stepped back and you knocked on the carriage roof without looking away from him. You found your gaze lingering on him until the carriage rounded the corner. He had stayed where he was as he watched you leave, people still giving him plenty of space, their gazes averted.

*.*.*

Somehow, as the days and weeks passed, you found yourself returning to the Revelry again and again. You didn't always see Quin and sometimes he was too busy to do more than greet you, but that was alright.

His staff had grown unexpectedly fond of you, greeting you with smiles and offering free drinks on the house. Aside from the artists, you got to know Quin's hunters, as most people called them, rather well.

The hunters were the ones that wore masks and never showed their faces. The ones that everyone seemed uncomfortable around, though they seemed to find them slightly less unsettling than Quin.

Quin, whenever he had time for you, was excellent company. He made you feel warm and welcome and it was so easy to relax and be yourself in his presence. He made you laugh and let you lean against him, made your dreary days brighter and was well read and well educated.

You had both found yourself debating philosophical questions for hours with him and you had danced in the warm rain as summer began, laughing as he hopped through puddles with you, his make-up never once running.

He had made it far, far too easy to fall in love with him.

With his sharp blood-smiles and his dark eyes and delighted grins at all the joys the world had to offer. With his danger and confident grace and the good treatment of his employees. With the way he leaned in, breath warm against the shell of your ear, as he pointed things out to you or shared secrets.

"How come the boss doesn't bother you?" the barkeeper asked you one afternoon as you waited for Quin to finish a deal and join you for another outing. "It even took me a while to be comfortable around him and he's been nothing but friendly to me from the start."

You knew what she meant, you had observed the effect Quin had on people for some time now. Quin was dangerous and you weren't fool or delusional enough to not know that. To not know that you could easily have that danger turned on you should you threaten him and his.

But it was hard to forget the way he had caught you instead of letting you fall, that he had immediately offered to take care of a perceived offense that few others would have even bothered to acknowledge. That he had covered you with a blanket and gotten you shoes and hadn't asked you to sign any of the scrolls he handed to virtually everyone else that approached him for deals.

So you just shrugged and the barkeep left it at that.

"Love, how good to see you, thank you for waiting," Quin's voice drew your attention and he approached you, easily throwing an arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. "Where to today? The usual place?"

You had visited the academy inn you had taken him to a couple of times since, but you shook your head. "I found a new place. Come on or we'll be late."

"Oh, we can't have that, can we?" he sounded delighted, steering you towards the door and lifting his free hand in a lazy goodbye wave to his employees. "Until later, you scoundrels, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he called out, getting laughter and some hoots in return.

Hanging out with Quin had, faster than you had expected, turned into one of your favorite things. He had an ease about him that was part of anything he did and his presence had the added benefit that no one ever bothered you if you went out with him.

It was easy to tell Quin everything and he was a great confidante. Never once had he shared your secrets with anyone else and he never judged you for anything either. He spoke less about himself, but every little thing he revealed you found yourself hoarding like a jealous dragon who managed to scrape together a few coins.

Today, to your surprise, he ended up sharing more than before. Maybe it was the play you had brought him to, one that turned him quieter and more thoughtful than anything else before.

"I know you know I'm not human, not anymore," he said quietly as he watched the lead act fall to his knees in front of a demon, hands raised in supplication. "But you never ask about it."

"In all honesty, I don't care about what you are," you answered just as quietly. "I like you the way you are."

For the first time since you got to know him, he seemed to have no idea what to say. He reached out, offering his hand and you took it readily enough. To your delighted surprise, he laced your fingers together.

Then he brought your hand up to his lips and you found yourself unable to look away from him. From his dark eyes that began to glow ever so faintly like embers.

He brushed his lips over your knuckles. "I sold my soul to something far older than this world," he murmured, as though pressing his confession into your skin. "I never regretted it, I lead a life I very, very much enjoy after all."

He pressed a kiss against your knuckles, lips leaving behind red smears like blood, his gaze heavy. "But ever since I got to know you, I find myself glad for my younger self's foolish recklessness. I don't think I could have ever met you otherwise."

"We would have met," you found yourself answering, quiet but sure, certain in a way you felt in the marrow of your bones. "I would have found you."

You would have crossed paths with this man and you would have seen in him what you saw now. Someone who had shaken off the shackles of society, someone who was close to you in spirit. Someone who understood you in a way so few did. Someone who had grown so very, very dear to you.

"And I would have killed for you," Quin said, brushing one more confession against your knuckles before he let your combined hands sink down to the arm of his chair. "I hope you know that I would promise you what I promised this ancient thing years ago if I could."

You hadn't dared to hope, not when you had worried, just a little, that Quin didn't quite feel for you what you felt for him. But now your heart leaped high and soared and a happy grin appeared on your face. "I know now."

He smiled back at you and while you knew his smiles would never be soft and adoring the way you had seen other men smile at their lovers, you didn't want them to be. You liked his danger and his sharp teeth and the way he at times seemed two steps away from going unhinged.

Quin said nothing else for the rest of the performance, but neither did either of you let go of the other's hand. He held it all the way to the carriage, where he offered another of his playfully exaggerated bows while he held open the door.

You set a foot inside, only to lean over and brush a kiss against his cheek. "I had fun tonight."

"I think that's my line," he teased, looking up at you for once. "I'll take you out next time, how does that sound?"

"I look forward to it," you said and he let go of your hand, silver earrings reflecting the light as they swung softly when he closed the door.

He once again waited on the sidewalk as the carriage carried you away and you waved at him, watching him laugh and sketch another bow. The moment he was out of view, his words seeped back into your mind.

You mulled them over for days and slowly, bit by bit, you managed to tease more information out of Quin when you saw him. He never told you what sort of deal he made or with what being, but that was alright. You had access to a library after all and there was an old occultist that frequently visited the Revelry.

It was easy enough to intercept him one night and pull him aside while Quin was busy making deals. You got the man drunk enough to loosen his tongue and since he knew you and Quin were close, he seemed to have come to the assumption that you knew more than most.

You didn't, Quin had kept you firmly away from the sort of things he dealt with, but that assumption worked well in your favor.

Quin and you went on more outings together and despite his usual unafraid and near greedy claiming of the things he wanted, he hadn't done much more than share chaste kisses with you.

He was very content to take things at your pace and you found that incredibly charming, but you were ready to go further. So the next time you visited him, you leaned in and kissed him, deepening the kiss as he leaned against the bar, patrons and employees alike hooting and hollering as he returned the kiss eagerly.

"I think it's time we take this a little further," you whispered against his lips, knowing yours were stained blood red right now.

He was grinning, eyes glowing faintly when you separated. "Oh, love," he murmured in that low voice that seemed to rumble in the air itself. "You can have me as much as you like."

He kissed you breathless and took you dancing until you felt like your heart had soaked up enough joy and love to grow wings and take flight, the two of you never separating for long.

The next night you kissed him deeply once more and he led you through a night of delight, leaving you gasping and breathless and grinning as wildly as he did.

"Why didn't you ask for a normal deal when you met me?" you asked him that night when you were half asleep in bed with him, his hand tracing shapes across your back. "What was it that I gave you?"

He was quiet for long enough that you were almost fully asleep when he answered, quiet like it was an important secret, "You gave me trust in a way no one had in far, far too long."

You fell asleep with a smile while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You loved him more than ever and when your parents brought up the topic of marriage again a couple of days later, you firmly told them you had chosen your own partner this time. You were done with catering to their desires and wishes. Never again would you let them control your future like they once had.

Especially when, instead, you could spend it with Quin and the Revelry.

It took you another couple of weeks, summer fading to cold autumn, until you at last had everything ready.

A day later, on his birthday, you tumbled Quin into bed while laughter drifted up from the tavern a floor below. Laughter was caught between your lips as you kissed and he made you sing in the best of ways, curling around you afterwards, sated and delighted.

You were reasonably certain that Quin needed next to no sleep, considering that a hunter had once mentioned that he only went to his rooms to read or when you were with him. He did sleep around you, or at least something like it. He always was a little too still when he did it, his breathing just a bit too deep to be normal, his heartbeat that unsettling extra second too slow.

You waited until he grew still and deep and slow and then you snuck out of bed, slow and careful. He didn't wake, not when you pulled pouches from your pockets. Not when you drew in chalk on his floor, not when you set up candles and lit them and not when you approached him with the dagger, metal etched with symbols that made no sense to you, but you knew were correct.

He didn't even wake when you carefully pricked the tip of one finger, letting a single drip of blood fall onto the blade. That one drop swiftly filled all the carved in grooves and lines and now came the thing that had taken the longest to obtain.

It had taken you days to find people even willing to hear you out, never mind go on the sort of dangerous trip you needed to send them on.

But a group of slightly wild-eyed, hungry adventurers had taken you upon the offer and they had, after weeks, delivered. Bruised, blooded and broken but victorious, grins wilder than ever and their hunger sated. For now.

The heart looked unexpectedly small, barely bigger than half your palm, but it beat still and it was as black as tar. The last tether the ancient horror had to this world.

You placed it in the middle of the circle, Quin still deeply asleep on the bed. His mind was most likely at another place, maybe he was even with this ancient thing, listening to its demands for souls and years and emotions and whatever else he fed it. It was powerful, no doubt, but you also knew Quin was the only reason it got to eat at all.

He was the only one who had a contract with it, the first and only one in centuries who had stumbled across a half sunken tomb and had figured out enough of the symbols to cobble together a ritual. Even his hunters were only an extension of his deal with the old horror he had found.

He hadn't quite understood what he had done, what he had summoned and bound himself to, but he had whole-heartedly accepted it all the same. Unafraid as he was in everything.

There was no undoing what had been done to him, the occultist had been firm about that when you had asked. Quin had given up his humanity and reversing that would be his end. His soul and body and mind had changed too much already. Furthermore, he liked himself like this.

He didn't want to change, even if he wished he could be free of the contract.

His body bowed like a man possessed when you pierced the heart and a noiseless shriek echoed through the room. It wasn't sound but instead pressure, making the very air itself vibrate, floorboards groaned and walls cracked, windows rattled and shattered and for a second you thought you yourself would break too.

Your bones seemed to try to shrink smaller, your mind feeling like it got squeezed from all sides as fury slammed into you, your ears popping painfully. Fury and fear.

It was that last emotion, that gave you the strength to grip the dagger with both hands and twist it, rending the small, black heart in two.

It was like an outward explosion, as though something as big as a continent exhaled it's least breath forcefully, desperate as it lost its grip on life. The walls and floor cracked to the point where you half expected them to cave and crumble and all at once the candles were extinguished.

In the light from the full moon outside you watched the black heart turn to dust and then it got blown away by a faint breeze until nothing was left.

"What?" Quin's gasping inhale drew your attention and you realized you were shaking and sweating and feeling unnaturally cold.

He sat up in bed, eyes glowing like an entire fireplace full of embers. "Love," he said and his voice rumbled through the air, heavy with new power. "What did you do?"

"Happy birthday," you answered, slightly breathless. "Do you like my present?"

He scrambled out of bed, suddenly frantic and graceless in a way he never, ever was. His knees hit the ground and his hands cupped your face, glowing eyes roving over your face like he had never seen it before. Had never seen you like this before.

"You killed an old god for me," he whispered, his voice on the verge something reverent and awed as he gave off an air of power so much deeper and larger that his previous presence would have looked pitiful in comparison.

"You wanted to be free, right?" you asked quietly and when you smiled at him, you knew you still had his blood-red lipstick on your lips from kissing him previously. You knew it was dark enough with only moonlight in the room that it must've looked like real blood.

He laughed and it was half relief and half astonishment and then he was kissing you, fiercer and deeper than ever before. It felt like he was trying to pour the power you had gifted him into you, filling your veins the way you had filled his.

"I devote myself to you," he said breathlessly between kisses, each one as fierce and consuming and gifting as the last. "My soul, in light and darkness, shall be yours until my dying day."

You could only kiss back just as fiercely, gripping his hips and pulling him closer as he climbed into your lap, leaning over you and kissing you and kissing you until you felt drunk on it and his power.

"Move in with me," he whispered against your lips. "You're already a part of this place. The Revelry loves you. I love you."

"Let's adopt a cat," you whispered back and he laughed, sounding half delirious and delighted enough that it wouldn't have surprised you to hear him shout from the rooftops in a moment.

"A beautiful idea," he said, eyes glowing and blood-red grin just as dangerous as ever, his teeth looking even sharper than before. "I love you."

You couldn't help but grin back. "Neat."

He laughed, wild and free, wrapping his arms tightly around you and swaying back and forth a bit, his weight heavy and grounding and warm in your lap until the last of the unnatural chill was chased from your bones.

Then he held and kissed you until he got his newly gained power under control and someone knocked on the door.

It were his hunters and for the first time they had taken off their masks, glowing eyes staring at the two of you with barely contained hope and wonder.

"We're free," Quin said, still in your lap and his grin was delightfully wild and on the edge of unhinged. "You are free to stay or go and never again will you be trapped in a contract."

It didn't surprise you when they stayed, fists pressed over hearts and fealty offered but not demanded. Given, not owned.

"Marevlous," Quin said when they left again, pressing kisses against your face, leaving smears of blood red behind. "Precious, crafty, devious, mine."

You gripped his hips. "And you're mine."

"Until the end of time," he promised, hands still cradling your face and he pressed your foreheads together. His voice grew quieter, intense, a promise he would have never given that old god, no matter its demands, "For this life and all that follow, until this world crumbles to dust and all the stars have died."

A promise better than any wedding vow you could have asked for. "In each one I will find you," you answered his promise, feeling him press even closer, heat and weight and danger and power. "My soul will always recognize yours."

"Thank you," he whispered, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Thank you, for this gift and for trusting me when you met me. For never shying from me when others didn't even dare to look me in the eye. For giving me everything I ever wanted. For loving me."

You smiled and hugged him back tightly. He already knew that he had given you everything you could have asked for the night he killed for you. All without asking for anything. Without ever taking anything from you.

He had set you free from more than a lethal marriage contract. And now that he had shucked his shackles to an old god, now that he was free and still very much not human, you felt like everything was complete.

You couldn't wait to get that cat and to wake up to love and blood-red smiles for the rest of your life.

#my writing #short story #a long ass short story #fantasy #deals #jester #yo this became so damn long #i had so much fun writing this #I hope someone enjoys reading it!#implied murder in this one #heavily implied #also #this is a bit darker than my usual stuff #hope you guys like it!#have I figured out how tagging works by now?#absolutely not #I hope I didn't overlook too many mistakes!#thanks fyrenwater for giving me that one pass to write whatever I want #romance

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