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geekydane · 4 years

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Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - prolog

Warning!!!

This prolog contains a lot of sensitive subjects and if you are easly triggered by traumer please don’t read this and go directly to my summary in the end of this post.

Prolog contains: Rape, abuse, suicidal thoughts and more alike.

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Summary:

Y/N has been through a lot that causes her to suffer from selective mutism. Her legal guardian will soon kick her out and she has to get a job and provide for herself. That is how Tommy Shelby ends up in her life and her in his. That are both damaged good and finds a way to heal each other, but is that enough for any of them?

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Prolog

It was too dark for you to see anything in the room. They had left you alone. Your body was sore all over and your breathing never really went back to normal since the panic and shear terror was still lingering. You could still hear them though. Very faint but you could hear your rapists interact and laugh in the distance. Or at least you thought so. It could just be your mind playing tricks on you, since you also thought you could still smell them in the room. The smell of smoke, coal and spices. The spicy smell of their person told you that they couldn't be native to your country. You had smelled something alike on some of your travels with your father but your fragile and panicked mine couldn't place where in the world you would have smelled that before.

The room you were in looked like a small forgotten office. The walls were chapped and the row brick wall was visible in many places. In the middle of the room was a single desk and the chair that belonged to the desk were in pieces and scattered across the room. The result of one of the men getting angry with you, when you fought back and smacked it across your back. The cold wall felt good against your still aching back. You pressed yourself into the dark corner, not that the whole room wasn’t totally dark in the middle of the night, but you had a little silly hope inside, that they might not see you, when you tried to blend into the wall and dirt.

One thing was certain; they did this because of your father.

Your father wasn't a bad man. He drove a honest business with honest people, but that didn't make him less of a target. He was worth a whole lot of money and that meant that you were too. Since the law of inheritance were changed when Queen Victoria was at the throne in United Kingdom in 1880s, children - especially female - by noblemen and other well affluent people were targeted and exchanged for a ransom. The influence of the Queen spread throughout Europe and the law was permanently changed. They all changed the laws and soon no children of any merchant, politician or alike was safe from the mafia, gypsies or just simple bounty hunters.

Your brain was fogging over as you heard their voices started to come closer. It was still a mumble, but they were for sure coming your way. You didn't know for how long you had been there but you already knew that whenever they came to you, it meant pain in your already destroyed lower body. The door was unlocked with a scratching sound and the room was lit up by a small flame of a candle the first brute carried in front of him. As his eyes fell upon you his ugly broad face lit up in a creepy toothless smile. One thing that you could be pleased about was the fact that he actually had a few teeth before meeting you. Not that it made any difference, but it was a small victory.

“How is our favorite doll?” He said in a thick accent, trying his best to speak english. You didn’t answer. You knew that no matter what you said to them, they wouldn’t leave you alone anyway. There were no point in screaming or trying to talk to them. You could just wait until it was over with.

“Not much of a talker are you? You don’t want to scream at me? Rip my face off maybe?” He came closer and closer with the candle in his hand. His mates laughed behind him and the spicy smell of him filled your senses. It was the biggest trigger for you and your whole body stiffened. You couldn’t move and naturally you stopped breathing at the same time. Trying to keep the smell of the man out. You closed your eyes. It’s just a nightmare. A nightmare. Just…

“Come here, lassie.” Said one of the monster’s friends. The one with the rough hands and bitten down nails. Those hands had been everywhere on you, but mostly around your neck or pressed against your mouth, making it hard to breath. His hands were around your arm and they all started laughing. You hadn’t even counted how many they were because it didn’t matter anymore.

You were thrown against the table that were already covered in all kinds of bodily fluids.You were utterly numb, and didn't even think or fight back. You didn’t want to do anything than get it over with and crawl back to the corner. You closed your eyes and the tears started to run down your cheeks as one of the men ripped apart your already ruined clothing. You didn’t make a sound. Didn’t ask them to spare you. It was pointless. Everything was pointless. If you were lucky, maybe one of them would be crazy enough to throw you against the wall again and maybe this time you would actually…

“HOLD! STEP AWAY FROM THE GIRL!!!” The moment after were a blur. The room was suddenly filled up with light and many more men stormed in. You didn’t move out of your position on the table but you heard gunfire and yelling around you. Some of the many bodies fell to the ground and the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder.

“Are you alright, miss?” Someone grapped you by your shoulder and you flinched at the touch. The man immediately removed his hand from your shoulder and tried to lift you up from the table by your arm.

“Sir. Her back… Her… Lower…” The man mumbled.

“Get something to cover the girl up. She needs to get out of here. NOW!” Someone yelled and suddenly everything was quiet. You felt someone laying something heavy, soft and warm over your still shaking body. You finally opened your eyes and saw the classic dark blue colour of the local police force.

“Can you stand up, miss? Let me help you.” The man the was standing next to you - a young officer - reached out his hand for you to grab. You got up by yourself and reached out for the jacket around you, so it didn’t slide off of your shoulders.

“You are safe now, miss. We will bring you to the hospital.” Another man said. You stepped aside when the taller and older officer got closer to you. He had bushy mustache that reminded you of one of your rapists, but much more… groomed. How much would remind you of these last few days? Every man you meet from now on?

“I… i just want to go home to my dad.” You said in a harsh low whisper. The young officer looked at you with sad eyes and you knew something was wrong. You guessed he saw the worry in your eyes because he looked at the older officer, like he wanted to speak up, but needed permission.

“I wanted to wait until we had gotten you to the hospital, but i guess there is no point in dragging it out. It will not be possible for you to go home anymore, miss y/l/n. You see, the men who captured you has been after your father’s name and fortune for some time now. He did put up a fight. Especially when he heard that you were taken. They burned down the y/l/n mansion. Your father… didn’t.. make it. I’m sorry, miss.” The well spoken officer said and you were sure that he thought he had delivered the news in the most sensible way. But there weren't any sensible way to deliver news like that to a girl that only had her father and no one else in her life. A girl that just went through hell.

“No….” You whispered before the tears and the darkness consumed you.

And that was the last time you ever muttered a single word.

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Prolog summary: Y/n is catured and raped because of her fathers fortune. In the end she is rescued by the police that tells her that her father died trying to save her. The trauma causes her to develop Selective mutism.

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Hope it wasn’t too much and i hope that if anyone ever reads this, you might want to read what comes next too?

Masterlist

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fan fiction #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy

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yourdreamscenarios · 6 years

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The Bodyguard I part 2

Characters: Jungkook / OC Genre: Bodyguard AU Word count: 3,443

Summary: You’ve always thought that you were fine on your own. Even though life was hard, you’d never had trouble standing up for yourself. That was until the death of your mother decides to throw your world up side down. Taking extra measures to protect you, your father hires Jeon Jungkook. The handsome looking bodyguard who is supposed to protect you twenty four seven. Yet, you don’t want him around and you’re surely not planning on making things easy for him... His pretty face isn’t going to get him in your favor, he’ll have to work for it.

Part 1

Staring up at the ceiling you tried to find the encouragement you needed to get out of bed and get ready for school. You’d say that for a person who actually pleaded to go to school that you’d be a little bit more motivated than this. But due to circumstances you found yourself no where near the mood to get up. All night yesterday’s events had been playing through your head. It had taken a very long time before you had been calm enough to actually lay down in bed and stop pacing through the room. There had been so many thoughts filling your head. The conversation with your father, Jungkook’s stare. They way he had assured you that he would do his job, no matter if you told him to leave. There was something about him though, that had caused his face to swim round and round in your mind all night. There wasn’t a single cell inside of your body that wanted a bodyguard. You were a normal high school student.

Apart from annoying classmates who threw some ugly words at you and teachers who would overload you with homework you had nothing to worry about. You had never felt threatened or in danger before while being out. Your father was exaggerating and once again you were the victim of that. By now your mom’s voice should have reached out for you already, telling you to come downstairs and get your lazy ass out of bed. But now, nothing came, no matter how long you waited. Heaving a deep sigh you forced yourself to push yourself upright, the ceiling disappearing from your point of view. It was dark inside of the room and as you grabbed your phone from your nightstand to check the time the brightness stung your eyes. A frond escaped from your lips when you realized that if you wouldn’t get up now you’d be late.

There no way you would give your father the satisfaction of hearing that you stayed home today. You couldn’t let him think that any of this matter to you because then he’d know how to get to you from now on. Until now that had always been your advantage, the fact that he had never gotten the time to know his own daughter. This now made it easier for you to trick him. As long as he thought that you weren’t bothered by what he did then he didn’t have anything to use against you. He wanted to let someone babysit you? Fine, but tat didn’t mean that you had to agree with it or that you had to make things easy for him. You weren’t someone who went down easily, and you sadly enough had to admit that was something you had inherited from him. Your mom hadn’t really been the kind of person who had bitten herself into things.

Overall she’d had quite an easy life. For as long as you could remember she had never gone out working and she had stayed home to take care of you as your father had worked around the clock. She had always refused to take a nanny, not wanting you to get raised by strangers. Today you could only be thankful towards her that she had done such a thing. Thanks to her you’d felt as if you had had a family, as if you’d been a part of something, as if you’d at least meant something to someone. Rolling out of bed you shivered when your bare feet hit the cold tiles and even though they were still shining brightly you knew that later on today, after you left for class, Elena would come over to swop them. when you would come back here tonight it would look as if no one had ever been here, the bed neatly made, as if this room wasn’t your own anymore.

Shuffling towards the bathroom you flickered on the bright lights, squeezing your eyes to get used to the new environment. The bathroom was your favorite place in the house. Even though you hated your father’s fortune and everything it stood for, you definitely didn’t hate this bathroom. A large bath was settled in the middle of the room, a shower in the corner. Baths were usually taken on crapy days, while you quickly took a shower if you didn’t have any time to spare. The mirror against the wall was enormous and your mother had always made sure that as a girl, you owned everything you could possibly need. Not that you often laid a hand on the make up she had bought for you. Brushing your fingers along the material of the dresser you could still remember the image of you as a little girl, sitting on a chair in front of that mirror. You had been so little you had barely been able to reach the damn thing.

But you’d been having the time of your life while your mom had been trying to put your hair into small braids, making you feel like a lady. That part of you was long gone, the sweet girl curried deep inside of you. Feeling a familiar tug at your heard you quickly pushed the thoughts aside. Self pity wasn’t going to help you, it wouldn’t bring you any closer to figuring out what had happened to her, who had done this to her. The urge to know gnawed at you a little more and more every day. Somehow you got the feeling that your father wasn’t even trying to figure it out, or that he already knew but that he simply refused to tell you about it. Yet, the thoughts that your mom had died for nothing, that there was no one who cared enough to find out who had done this and try their best to get that person behind bars, actually broke you into pieces.

You couldn’t just sit here and pretend as if everything was alright, you couldn’t just accept this and do nothing. You needed answers and justice. Getting towards the sink you splashed some cold water into your face, trying to ignore the worn out look inside of your eyes as you stared at your own reflection. Some day you would take revenge, and it would be sweet. In a slight hurry you got ready, freshening up and getting dressed. Leaving your hair down your shoulders in waves you hoped that would be enough to cover up the slight dark circles that were left because of the sleepless nights. Walking back into your room you walked towards the desk, grabbing your bag from the chair and swinging it over your shoulder. Slipping past your night stand you made sure to unplug your phone and slipped it into the pocket of your heads before making your way out of the room. Immediately you froze, suspiciously staring from side to side in the hallway. No Jungkook.

There wasn’t a single movement inside of the corridor and finally your shoulders relaxed. Perhaps he had already left. Maybe he had changed his mind after thinking over what you had told him last night and he had run. You wouldn’t be surprised, more than once had one of your father’s employees been scared off because of your demeanor. Though somehow, you felt a slight pang of disappointment rip through you. He hadn’t seemed like the person who would give up so easily and a small part of you had hoped that he would be different. That maybe he wouldn’t just leave, forget about you and turn around as if he didn’t care about what happened to you. But who were you fooling? Those people, they were all the same/ they were here for one thing only, because of your father’s money. There wasn’t a single one that truly cared for you. The only one who seemed to have slightly earned your trust over the years was Elena, but only because she had been close to your mother as well.

Walking down the hall you passed the elevator and aimed for the stairs. Your socks patted against the floor as you took one step adder age other, heading straight towards the kitchen. Throwing your bag down on one of the chairs you enjoyed the silence inside of the house. When Elena had first started working here she had always made you breakfast. From pancakes to muffins, sometimes even waffles. After a while though you had asked her to stop, you no longer enjoyed those things now that you had to sit at the table all by yourself. The food no longer tasted as good. Wiggling towards one of the cabinets you got out a bowl, placing it on the counter before setting off towards the fridge. Usually you kept breakfast quick, you didn’t have the time to prepare some fancy meal so you usually stuck to your favorite cereal.

It was fast and efficient, and it kept you going all the way to lunch. spotting the brick of mils you reached for it and stepped back to close the refrigerator. “You’re late.” The words appeared out of nowhere and so suddenly that your heart skipped a beat inside of your chest. Gasping loudly you scrambled back against the counter, the milk slipping from your grasp and crashing onto the floor. Jungkook was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, the expression on his face unreadable but a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Shocked your glance lingered between him and the doorway, wondering how it was possible that you hadn’t heard him come in. It was so quiet in here, you’re sure you would have been able to hear anyone sneak in here. But it seemed like he hadn’t been lying last night, perhaps he was really good at his job.

Glaring at him you watched the amused glint inside of his eyes and it made you want to go over to him and hit him. You couldn’t image that you had been wished he would have stayed a few minutes ago. You wanted him out, you couldn’t stand him looking at you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You growled, looking down on the mess that had been created. The white fluid was covering the entire floor, splashed against the cabinets and the wall. Your jeans was ruined with milk, your red blazer looking like a mess. Reaching for a towel you frantically tried to clean yourself up. Jungkook pushed himself off from the wall, moving as graceful as a cat, as if it didn’t cost him any effort at all. Just like yesterday he was wearing a black suit, tight around his shoulders and arms, the first two buttons of his white shirt left undone. Most girls would melt at the sight of him, the thought of a guy like him being so close to them almost unthinkable.

With his agile fingers he grabbed a mob which was standing in the corner of the room, but before he could start you ripped it from his hands leaving him staring at you in surprise. “I can do it.” You groused, not wanting him to start cleaning the junk you had made. Why did everyone have to treat you like you were a little girl? You didn’t need anyone to baby you, the only person who had been allowed to do so wasn’t around anymore. You could feel his attentive eyes on you as you began cleaning the floor in a hasty pace, knowing that if you wouldn’t leave soon you’d be late for class. Which reminded you of something. Sending him a dirty look, everything seemed to fall into place. “How do you know what time I get up?” You asked, remembering how he had called you out for not being on time.

He shrugged his shoulders, standing back against the counter, towering in front of you. His hair was slightly messed up, as if he hadn’t been able to get out of bed himself this morning. “I asked the staff for your schedule. I have to know what time you leave for school so that I’m able to take you there.” He explained, as if that was the most normal thing in the world to say. Yet, your mood only worsened because of his words. Throwing the mob back on its previous spot you marched out of the room, stepping into your shoes before getting straight towards the door. “I don’t need a babysitter!” You roared, boiling with anger. Hearing the way he cleared his throat behind you, you turned on your heels, ready to stare him down furiously. Your bag was dangling from his finger, a mischievous expression on his face. Not able to control it you felt the way a blush started to travel up our neck, settling on your cheeks.

Taking a deep breath you demanded yourself to remain calm as you rushed back to him, swallowing your pride. Someone had to rebuilt that handsome face of him so that he wouldn’t be so smug anymore. Ripping the bag from his hold you meant to leave again, but he stopped you. You lulled to a halt as he placed his hand against the wall, blocking your way. Tugging up your eyebrows you shot him a indignant look. “Excuse me?” You squealed, trying to make it seem as if you were outraged because he was getting so close to you. Yet, instead you were actually trying to slow down your fast beating hard, which was something you couldn’t allow to happen. He wasn’t the first handsome person who had ever been forced in your presence, you were supposed to be stronger than him. Yet, there was something about the way he searched eye contact with you that made you weak in the knees.

“I’m not here to get to you. I’m only trying to help you.” He pointed out, but you sniffed at that. Straightening your shoulders you tried your hardest to hide your inner thoughts from him. He had no idea how he was getting to you, and you didn’t like it even the slightest bit. The only way you could go on with your peaceful life was if he would get out of it. Not only was he someone your father had forced into your life, he was also someone you didn’t need. Another person who would try to get into your life, throw things upside down, thinking they had something to say about you. You were sick and tired of being thrown from one side towards the other. It wouldn’t be the first time that you would believe that someone was actually trying to do what was best for you, only to have a knife jabbed into your back later on. “I just want you to leave me alone.” You repeated, still stuck in the same mind set as you had been last night.

He seemed slightly disappointed, as if he had hoped that he might have been able to get through to you. Pushing himself off he rearranged his suit, tugging the jacket straight. All of a sudden he turned back into the professional man he had been before, a distant look inside of his eyes. Somehow you felt the need to tell him that he shouldn’t take it personal bubble inside of you. That was the thing about all the staff inside of this house, it never got personal, that was the deal. Straightening up your shoulders you continued your way down the hall, sensing him following you right on your heels. Fisting your hands next to your sides you really tried to stop yourself from lashing out on him. This was insane. “You haven’t had breakfast, do you want us to stop somewhere so we can get you something?” He suddenly asked behind you, a strained sound mixed with his friendly words. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d driven a usually friendly person to get to the point where they completely hated you. You always told yourself that you didn’t care, what they thought of you wasn’t your problem.

“I’m not hungry.” You muttered softly, swinging your bag over your shoulder as you pulled the doors open and got outside. Extending the large stairs you quickly tried to walk towards your car, the small Mini Cooper you had bought of your own money when you had gone out working this summer. Back then you had still had the support of your mother when you had announced that you weren’t accepting a single dime from your father to buy yourself your own car and you wanted to save for it yourself. She’d had your back and she was the reason why that car was parked on the porch right now. “Where are you going?” Jungkook asked behind you, surprising you by grabbing a hold of the lug of your bag, holding you back. His power surprised you as you were unable to put even another single foot forwards. Stuttering slightly you tried to brush him off, but he was strongly holding on, refusing to let you go.

“We’re taking the other car.” He remarked, his finger pointed towards the black vehicle beside your small one. The windows were tinted so not even a single soul was able to see who was sitting inside of the car. It looked like it was bulletproof, and it could be used in war. Not the kind of thing you wanted to arrive in when getting to school. “I’m not getting in there.” You quickly informed him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest and digging your feet into the pavement. Your car was your pride, it was the one thing the students at school actually admired you for. There was no way you were going to give that up. Being who you were was already hard enough without you father trying to interfere with your school life. “You can come voluntarily or I can carry you.” Jungkook suddenly said, as if it was a reminder which didn’t make a single room for discussion, but if he thought that you weren’t planning on arguing with him then you were very wrong.

Spinning around to face him you took a big step forward until you were standing right in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t get defensive, as if he somehow knew that you wouldn’t get aggressive towards him. “Listen to me, you muscle pig. You may be hired by my dad, but if you want to keep this job livable for yourself you better start listening to what I’m saying. I’m the one you have to work with, not my father. I’m saying we’re taking my car and if that doesn’t please you then you can walk. Am I clear?” You growled, and even found yourself lifting your finger and pocking it against his chest. You tried to ignore the feeling of muscle underneath his shirt, while he wasn’t even trying to flex them. You really didn’t want to know what he was hiding underneath those clothes, it had to be the dream body of any man. Yet, he surprised you by suddenly enclosing his hand around that finger, holding it still midair. All your nerves tingled at the places he touched you, causing your breath to catch inside of your throat.

His dark eyes were drilling right into yours, and you could tell that he was going over his options inside of his head. “Fine, we’ll take your car. But if I start working for you, I want you to stop working against me. This isn’t going to work if you’re going to try to get me out the door before I even put a single foot in.” He shot back, and you felt your jaw clench at the deal he was proposing. Everything he said went completely against your personal plan. It was your goal to get him out, not to suddenly start getting him into your team instead of your father’s. In the end they always went back to him, none of them could be trusted. But somehow, as you stared deep inside of his brown eyes, you couldn’t help yourself as your answer rolled off your tongue. “You better don’t disappoint me Jeon Jungkook, otherwise I’ll have your ass whipped, and then it won’t matter how strong you are.” You snarled before you broke free out of his grip, turning to walk back towards the car. But you had still been in time to see the way his eyes had lit up with amusement.

Part 3

BTS Masterlist

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lolibat · 7 years

Text

How Many Parts Make a Whole? Ch. 1

Fandom: Makai Ouji: Devils and Realist

Summary: AU long fic: What if William found out about Solomon's soul much sooner? The last words of a father he can barely remember translates into a very different life for young William Twining. Gen fic, cannon compliant, spoilers up to most recent chapter (ch. 88).

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11877003

"Father?" William asked, his voice uncertain and trembling with a child's fear. He looked for reassurance- of comfort, as a child needs- and all he found was crimson blood. Blood splattered over the broken carriage, bodies upon bodies, horses with their legs snapped and crying in pain.

"Mother?" He asked, shaking hands gently reaching out for his mother's hands. They were cold and lifeless, limp in his grasp. Her lace dress was torn and her hair unbound. Perhaps she would just be sleeping, if it weren't for the blood oozing out of her head and dying her light blond hair bright red.

From underneath his mother's protective embrace, his father stirred. "Father!"

William raced over as fast as he could, ignoring the stinging pains of the wounds on his legs. Tears welled up over his eyes as he knelt beside his father's figure and tugged. His efforts were futile, and the man remain pinned underneath the carriage.

"William..." He said weakly. "My child... Take my ring and promise me to never let it go. This is our heritage- Solomon's Ring. It will protect you, my child. Please, stay safe." He said in between coughs. Slowly, his breaths grew weaker, and his last words were but a wheeze, but William heard them none the less. He stayed by his father's side. For how long, he didn't know, but in the time between high noon and twilight- the time he waited while his parents expired and breathed their last- he quietly slipped off the ancient and rusted ring from his father's cold hands and onto his own.

When Barton found the tragedy-struck family at sunset, cold green eyes greeted him. Green eyes that were far too ancient to belong to a six year old child. When he would search his brother's corpse for Solomon's Ring, he would find it gone, as though it had never appeared in the first place.

He saw things, sometimes. Ever since that fateful night, he began to change. He saw things when he was awake- feathers and flitting gossamer wings around the edges of the gardens. He would pluck herbs nilly-willy and brew herbal teas. The maids would always scold him, but the tea he made, he was sure to have made it before. He saw how the animals and pets around the manor which used to greet him during the day, ran away with their tails between their legs.

More so, he saw things in his dreams. He saw a timeless metropolis in the desert, surrounded by bustling marketplaces and bright fabrics. He saw white pillars and a bright tower, overseeing all of the city from far above. In his dreams, there was a man: a very sad man, reclining on a seat high above in the tower.

"Father?" He asked once from within the dream. His heart ached for his parents. The manor was far too quiet, and everyone was in mourning. He missed the days where he would play catch with the hunter's dogs and interrupted his mother's tea with her high classed lady friends. He missed catching caterpillars with Kevin and slipping them in the maid's dresses. He missed the days where he was just William Twining and not the six year old Lord Twining. He didn't dislike Uncle Barton, but he could never replace his parents.

The man turned and stared at him with piecing emerald eyes. He stroked the fur of the lion next to him and got up. William stood, ramrod straight and raised his gaze in challenge. He swallowed nervously but refused to back down. Chuckling, the man kneeled down and patted him on the head.

"My, what a brave young soul you are. What are you doing here, Child? It is far before your time." The voice was gentle and soothing and nothing like his father's.

"You're not my father..." William said, his voice trembling. "I miss my father." He looked down to hide his tears, his fists clenched and shaking.

With a sigh, the man who was draped in gold and silks embraced him tightly and pulled him close. The fabrics felt soft on William's tear stained cheeks, and he let his tears fall. Surely with all that fabric, he wouldn't notice if some of it got a bit damp.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Little One," he murmured, stroking William's hair gently. He didn't even know the man, only that the stranger appeared in his dreams and that he felt safe around him. He didn't know how or why, but he trusted him indiscriminately. For the first time since that day, he felt safe, in the embrace of the stranger. Perhaps it was a dream, which is why he didn't question his feelings.

"You'll be safe here, Little One. The world is not often kind to parentless children," his gaze saddened and his grip tightened over William's small body.

"William," he said, sniffling and wiping his tears on his sleeves. "My name is William Twining, and I'm six years old."

The man smiled- he looked gentle- "My name is Solomon, and I'll take care of you from now on."

And William believed him.

It was odd, Solomon thought with wonder, that his soul would manifest in a child so young. He mourned briefly for yet another vessel of his soul, dead for a curse that neither he nor anyone else was to blame for. Another family torn apart- descendants he never had the chance to meet. He mourned, though in his heart, he wasn't quite sure mourning feels like anymore.

The child was fearless, that is for sure, he thought and chuckled as six year old William Twining tugged on the lion demon's tail and clambered over the great beast's back. He tugged on the ears, laughing as a six year old would.

He visits the dream world often, in the aftermath of the accident; or rather, to the outsiders looking in, William Twining slept a lot for a six year old. In reality, he was escaping to the dream world with Solomon, far away from his troubles. He tells the older man of his parents sometimes. The wise king knows that getting the child to open up- not to bury his miseries- would only be part of the recovery process. Still, he was fascinated by William's family, however short it lasted.

He had a loving father, a scholar at heart and a top student when he was in school. William proudly takes after his father that way, boasting of his kindergarten grades. They looked alike, with Solomon's blonde hair and green eyes inheriting strongly. His mother was the third daughter of a noble family. Their marriage was an arranged, but loving, one. They were childhood friends who grew up together and married to start a family. They had one son, a proud son whom they raised with utmost care... A son who turned out to be a rambunctious little hellion, dropping beetles and caterpillars onto the maids and climbing trees daily. A son who would burst into his mother's tea parties crying with scrapes and bruises, who would fall asleep on his father's study waiting for him to come home on the carriages. They loved him dearly, taking him on outings and spending time with him when they were able.

It was like something of a fairy tale, Solomon thought bitterly, thinking of his own dysfunctional family. Perhaps this was what he wanted for so long- a different life far away from Israel and the burden of being king. A life where he wasn't hounded by demons and angels alike- where he has a loving family and could live a normal life.

A normal life- he chuckled- that part has already disappeared. He glanced at the child, only to find him trying to pry the lion demon's mouth apart to look at the teeth. The poor beast was at its wits end, knowing well not to harm the carrier of Solomon's soul, yet not quite sure what to do with a humanling this young.

He would have to pay attention to William and guide him carefully- even in a land as unfamiliar in England, human greed remains universal. There are already hungry sharks aiming for the Twining family's fortune, and the closest and dearest ones are often the root of disaster. For one brief moment, he saw Thomas Barton through William's eyes. He saw the exaltation of heaven around him like a halo; he smelt the pestilence on him, draping over him like the sheen of spilt oil. It was no accident that the carriage driver suddenly had a tuberculosis attack and died, he thought. And to think that the Rider of Pestilence who once laid waste to Jerusalem would want to claim his soul for greed. Solomon's green eyes narrowed in thought. He would have to be very careful.

Yes, he would have to protect the little ray of sunshine with all his power. The child wasn't ready to take on the burden of his soul- that much was clear. Yet, he had potential... bright potential indeed, he thought, listening to the child's laughter echo through the halls.

"Solomon! Solomon!" William shrieked down the halls, tracking in muddy footprints and shedding leaves in his wake. Even in his dreams, his attire is in disarray, the king thought amusedly. In his days, he would surely have been given lashings for his behavior.

"William," he said with an oomph the eight year old barreled straight into him. "What has got you this excited today?" It was a wonder how the child still had so much energy to spare, seeing how he was just as awake in his sleep as he was during the day.

"I made applewood tea like you taught me to today, and the maids said it tasted good!" He puffed out proudly.

"Really?" He chuckled. Applewood tea was one of his favorites- he remembered how he often had Dantalion keep a mug of it nearby. He tipped it over often over his papers, but magic was useful for a reason. He wasn't a great magician (as Asteroth often jibbed) but he could manage a small spell like that.

"Yeah!" He crowed and tugged at the older man's clothes.

Solomon chuckled. "You're far too big now to ride on my shoulders," he berated. The child only pouted in response but continued on.

"And Kevin helped me peel the inner bark of the wood! He wouldn't let me touch Father's knives though," he reported, nodding.

"You're much too young to handle knives, William- you'll hurt yourself," he looked down at the child clutching to his robes, feeling every year his age. He had heirs once upon a time- he was never close to them- was this what being a father felt like? Honestly, it was exhausting at times.

"Can I make some for you next time? I'm really good at it now!" the child insisted loudly.

"Maybe next time," he conceded, thinking of how he didn't even have a body to drink tea with. He didn't want to discourage the child from causing chaos though. It was honestly quite entertaining. "Did anything else happen today?"

William nodded, his hair turning even more of a rat's nest with the motion. "I made top of my class again in the exams, and I finished my homework really quickly today! Kevin promised me he would teach me how to identify all the bugs and plants around the garden!

So that would explain his appearance, Solomon surmised. Kevin was someone he heard a lot about; he had refrained from taking over the child's body after that fateful day. Instead, he spent his time scrying and planning the future. Occasionally, he would see William's dreams when he wasn't in the dream world. He knew of the outside world from the small child and thus grew familiar with the people around him even though he didn't see the world from William's eyes. He knew to give the child privacy where he could.

"Congratulations," he smiled gently. "I'm proud of you." He ruffled William's hair, and the child beamed back at him.

He saw William's dreams sometimes. They're not all pleasant. Sometimes they're an innocent child's dreams, full of doll houses and flowers and bugs that squawk like chickens. Sometimes, they're... something else.

"Father! Father!" the screams echoed. As a spectator, Solomon could do nothing to wake him from the dreams. But even then, the world was black before them. The floor sloshed with an unidentified fluid. It smelled of copper.

"Mother!" William screamed, running and slipping on the blood in the dark. He ran, his short legs carrying him nowhere in the darkness. With lips pressed tight, Solomon could only watch with sad eyes- these were dreams no child should have. He observed as the child tripped over something- a piece of cloth that sent him stumbling face first into the blood.

He picked himself up, crying and gagging at the smell. A hand emerged from the folds of the cloth to grasp his ankle. He screamed, trying and failing to yank his leg free. An arm rose with the hand, and with it a torso and a head broken and bleeding.

"William, it's all your fault. You killed us! Why did you survive and not us?" A woman's voice moaned in pain. A closer inspection revealed that it was William's mother, dying in her last moments.

"... No, no!" the small child scrambled backwards, yanking at his foot still.

"You'll lead the family to ruin," a broken body rose from the darkness and whispered into his ears. A dark hand of shadows caressed his face, covering the child's face completely. Soon, the screams became muffled, and the dream faded into nothing.

Solomon looked away, mourning the cruelty of fate. He didn't know whose fault it was, really.

When he saw William next, he gave the eight year old a long hug. If his robes got wet, he never mentioned it.

He was nine years old when the dreams started. He has known Solomon for a while now, ever since the accident. It was odd, how no one saw Solomon but him. The maids were almost convinced they ought to call a doctor when William asked them if they saw a blonde man called Solomon. When he complained about the maids' stupidity to the king one day, he only chuckled.

"No one can see you but me, William. You're special that way."

"But they don't believe me!" the seven year old said, frustrated beyond belief.

"You don't need them to," Solomon said calmly. "If you know- if you believe, you don't need any other person to do so as well."

Getting praise from Solomon was always the highlight of William's day, but he never told anyone else about Solomon after that. In an odd way, he was happy that Solomon was his secret and his alone- a confident who would always have time for him, who didn't mind that he broke the rules constantly and let him roam free and be a child. He was almost the cooler uncle that he never had (not that Uncle Barton wasn't cool, but no one was as awesome as Solomon who seemed to know everything and still wants to know more). When he mentioned it hesitantly to the man, he only received a blink and a laugh.

"I'm far older than your uncle, Child."

"You look younger though," William pointed out with the blunt honesty of a child.

Sharp as a tack that one, Solomon thought, privately amused that his current incarnation thought that he looked better than the Rider of Pestilence.

Solomon wasn't very fond of Uncle Barton (William wasn't quite sure why- Solomon will always be the cooler uncle anyways no matter what ancient books and artefacts Uncle Barton brings home), and he seems fascinated by Kevin.

"He's really tall," William confessed. "I want to be that tall one day," he pouted.

"I'm sure you will be," the man said mildly. He knew that William probably won't get all that tall if he takes after him at all, but he won't dash the kid's hopes and dreams.

"He's been around for a long time! He was going to go be a lawyer in London, but he stayed for me." William said one day, watching the sunset over Jerusalem with his legs dangling over the ledge.

"He could still be one," Solomon said gently. "He's still young, and you'll be off to boarding school soon."

"I guess," he looked down guiltily.

"I'm sure he doesn't blame you," Solomon said, thinking of the kind man who stayed with the child after his parents death. Oftentimes, William would run to Solomon babbling about what "awesome and amazing thing" Kevin had done that day or how he was really good at gardening and could read Latin really well or how he knew his scriptures like the back of his hand. He thought of how the young man would help his charge escape priests and strict schoolteachers alike and knew that William must bring Kevin just as much joy as he does Solomon.

William nodded, still a bit guilty. "By the way, I dreamed of you yesterday."

Solomon paused. "You dream of me every day, here."

The child shook his head. "No, not here where I'm talking to you. You looked a lot like me when you were my age, right?"

He froze. It can't be- surely, it was too soon. "It's more the other way around, but yes."

"You had a sister named Tamar too, right? She's really pretty!" William crowed, not noticing Solomon's growing unease.

"She is," he echoed. Was, his mind corrected. William nodded, enthusiasm undimmed.

"You had way more books than you do now, but I couldn't open any of them. I called your name, but you didn't see me or recognize me, so it must have been a dream," the child reasoned.

"A memory," Solomon said quietly. "What you saw was my memory."

"Huh, I wonder how that happened." William cocked his head in confusion.

"How indeed," the king mused. Looks like fate would not even spare this small child from disaster, he thought with grief. He didn't want William to die. Was it too much to ask, for this idyllic life to continue for just a while longer? Just yesterday, he was but a small toddler, just a little over six, looking for his dead father. In the span of these three years, he had lived far more than he had in the past thirty years, slumbering in different incarnations of himself. He saw sunshine in the bright laughter of this child. He saw bravery and courage and stubbornness that rivaled his own. Truthfully, he didn't want the child to inherit his curse. William Twining was what he could have been, had he been born to a different family in a different time. He didn't want that joy to disappear.

With a hardened heart, he knew that he would just have to do his best to make sure William will weather through whatever demons and angels may put him through (Is it possible, that this curse might have an end? He didn't dare to hope.)

"Are you really the wise king of Israel?" Ten year old William Twining asked one day, sitting next to Solomon.

"I am," he admitted honestly. "What makes you ask?"

"We got to your name in the Bible in church today," he answered.

"I thought you got to that part a long time ago," the other man chuckled. It was fascinating to know what happened after his death, with the rise and fall of God's son (perhaps a particular human who caught God's eye? That Gabriel, the General of White Lilies, be the one to bring news to the mortal in question was rather unusual.)

The child was silent for a while, looking down at this toes. "I'm having troubles with my Bible studies," he finally admitted.

"With which part?" he asked, holding back laughter. Of course his incarnation would have problems with God.

"I yelled at the pastor today. I told him that God doesn't exist and the world is made of atoms." He said matter-of-fact, having only recently learned of the existence of atoms.

He couldn't help it- he burst out laughing.

"What?" William pouted, an expression far too cute on a face that was beginning to lose its baby fat. "Kevin had me write lines in Latin, and he never makes me do that!"

Solomon looked at William's upset face and laughed louder.

"Who was this King David anyway? He sounds stupid." William muttered angrily. Solomon stopped laughing.

Ten year old William Twining learned that day not to never bring up Solomon's past, if only to avoid seeing that look on his trusted mentor's face.

"I'm going to start teaching you magic today, William," Solomon said one summer day. He had in his arms a number off books and scrolls.

"Magic doesn't exist," the now preteen said, busy working out his latest lesson in the dream world. "The world is-"

"-made of atoms, yes," the king interrupted. "But there are things that cannot be explained by science."

William looked up, a rebuttal on his tongue, only to see that the king was completely serious. He trusted Solomon enough by now to know when he was joking and when he was not.

"It doesn't exist," he insisted stubbornly.

Solomon sighed. "How else can you explain all this then?" He turned his head in a vague gesturing way towards the surroundings, which felt very real to William's mind. "Unless you believe what the doctors told you years ago? That you went mad with grief? That I am merely a hallucination you made up, despite knowing far more than you can possibly imagine or explain?"

William was silent, his chin jutting out stubbornly. He could see hesitance in the child's eyes, but it would take some more work to convince him fully.

"If you claim to be the scientist that you are- then the least you can do is to experiment to disprove a theory, not to reject a claim without proof. At least learn it first to disprove it." He persuaded.

"... Fine, but only to disprove you." He huffed.

This is turning out to be a very long year, Solomon thought tiredly. Hopefully his charge will have more magical talent than he did in his youth.

William turns out to be abysmal in all things magical, much to Solomon's dismay. It seems like he takes after his distant ancestor far more than he does either of his parents. He still sees Solomon's memories in his dreams. The venerable King David was but a blinded, prideful old man who would not accept the existence of his sin. He saw the lonely Solomon grow into an even lonelier King Solomon, surrounded by people he didn't care about.

Logically, he knew that it was impossible for him to dream up such an elaborate life story, unless he really was hallucinating. Yet, despite all reasoning, he had a hunch- an inexplicable feeling- that Solomon is real. That everything he dreamed of did happen. That the demon names and faces he saw in dreams do exist.

He touched the ring on his finger absently. He never took it off, from the day his father told him to put it on with his dying breath. He hid the ring's existence from everyone- not Uncle Barton, not Kevin, not the maids- none of them knew that it existed. Solomon is his secret alone, and he will not have him taken away (the king explained that he was connected to the ring, after sitting through three hours of the child genius' theories on how neuroanatomy and biophysics can explain the dreams somehow).

He practiced his magic in the dream worlds, not daring to even touch chalk in the real world. Who knows what the pastor would do? He only had harsh memories of the church, with lines upon lines of Latin and grammar that would make any child cry. He had no desire to go there beyond the bare minimum requirement or social niceties. In his dreams, he drew and redrew the pentacles and diagrams that would call to the seventy two pillars of his venerable ancestor. He was privately happy, each time he successfully memorized another diagram or performed another spell successfully. Praise from Solomon always made him feel a thousand times more capable than he was, and more often than not, he'd overreach in his next spell and have to start from the beginning.

He doesn't regret feeling happy though- someone was genuinely proud of him. Even if he didn't believe in God or magic or demons, he would still learn what Solomon had to teach him, if only to hear him say "Good job."

Occasionally, they would discuss demons instead. They would talk of whatever demons William saw in his dreams as of late- of Dantalion bringing Solomon jugs of tea and cleaning up after this spilled piles of books. He dreamed how Solomon collected his demons, one by one, and how he had their undying loyalty- one way or another. He saw Asteroth at parties- an ancient mother in law of sorts- Baalberith watching over a Sytry dancing through the fields of golden wheat. He took comfort in the pillars, knowing that no angel of retribution will take them away.

How odd is it, that the angel looked oddly familiar in his dreams. When he mentioned it to Solomon- that he couldn't quite place his finger on it- the older man only looked pensive.

Solomon was perhaps grateful that William had not quite stumbled upon his exact relationship with Dantalion quite yet, but he supposes it was only a matter of time until the observant child had some uncomfortable questions to ask. He shuddered.

Uriel observed the newest incarnation of Solomon soul's with a critical eye. He first met the child on his parent's funeral, where the child had come to him for comfort.

Angel of penance, cruel sadist or not, he couldn't help but hold the child tight and let him cry on his shoulders. He was but a child of barely six years old- no sinner of any sort. Solomon's curse had taken yet another family, and even ‘til now, it ties him down in duty and obligation. Yet, he does not regret losing his wings.

Now looking at the preteen busy pouring over textbooks far above his level, he couldn't but help to be proud. He had pretty much raised the child on his own- with his uncle always abroad and the real Kevin Cecil sent to fulfill his dreams in London. He was a handful, for a child. Vivacious and energetic, stubborn and brilliant, little William Twining always managed to get into trouble and yet weasel his way out of any substantial punishment (by his account anyways). He was off to a successful life with a bright future in front of him. With a strong sense of morals, justice, and responsibility, the angelic patron of England couldn’t see anyone better to be the future Prime Minister.

He hasn't quite found Solomon's ring, but he knew that watching over Solomon's bloodline was just as important. If the two were to ever meet, Solomon may yet be revived. Little William Twining was nothing like Solomon, and Uriel would fight with all his might to keep it that way.

At seventeen, William Twining could feel his future going down the drain. His uncle had gone bankrupt, and he couldn't find a way to pay his last year's school fees without any of his family assets. He planned to become a lawyer, and from that, a politician. Now he couldn't do anything at all without any of his noble family's assets. Surely, there remains something that could be sold off.

He could feel Solomon stirring from his sleep in the back of his mind, rising to the feel of his charge's panic. He knew he would have quite a bit to explain later when he fell to his dream world, as per usual for the past eleven years. Perhaps the elder man will have some advice for him or some secretly hidden tomb that he can liquidate? It was a bit farfetched to even hope.

He burst through a wooden door in his basement rashly, looking for anything that may be hidden there. In his haste, he cut his hands, which now dripped with blood.

"Young Master," Kevin rushed in after him.

"It's just a cut," he said absently, waving away the concern. The blood dripped to the floor, and a very familiar diagram lit up on the floor. His breath caught. This was the moment to prove everything he had learned in the past decade. In the back of his mind, he wondered- who put it there? Who drew this and put it behind a locked wooden door with no key? And to put a glass vase behind the door, where it can easily fall over and break?

He could feel Kevin grabbing him from behind, protecting him from the rush of the summoning. He didn't care for that though. He knew that no demon would harm him- not his demons.

"I've waited many years, but I've finally found the one who has Solomon's soul. Rejoice- I have chosen you! I am Dantalion, the Duke who commands the 36th army of Hell. I am also a candidate to succeed the throne in the demon world!" A familiar voice announced. William's heart skipped a beat- he was the same voice from his dreams. This was the proof that he never dreamed Solomon up.

To the side, Kevin was looking decidedly unimpressed. Shouldn't he be shocked? William thought in the back of his mind. He certainly was surprised at a random man appearing in his basement in a tattered coat and odd costume.

William was silent, observing Dantalion and Kevin alike. "I know," he said finally. "You've grown, Dantalion."

Kevin's blood drained out of his face, and Dantalion looked gobsmacked. They looked at each other, angel and demon for once having the same thoughts. How did this happen?

Notes:

Mandy: A fic for the Makai Ouji fandom! Just a warning- I probably won’t see this fic to its completion. I’m a busy med student with a chronic disease to boot, so I writing fics is pretty low on my priority list. Nonetheless, this was just too good of an idea to pass up. I think the fic itself will mostly be in a series of drabbles roughly following the timeline of the cannon plot (yay, an excuse to reread one of my new favorite mangas). Feel free to take the general idea and run with it, but please don’t copy any of the passages.

Gift fic for @syphiria and @Imey-chan! Thank you very much for scanning, translating, and typesetting Makai Ouji! :)

#makai ouji #devils and realist #fanfic #HMPTaW #@syphiria #@Imey-chan #Gen fic #Cannon compliant #Spoilers up to most recent chapter

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