seven devils ⇢ angel &. sebastian

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

a n g e l   d e   c o s t a 

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Fuck around and you are bound to find out.

I ran away to Six on a whim last year and discovered my deep, viscous hatred for babies. Gugu, gaga- fuck off. They hog the spotlight all the time, and are devious little bastards, ready to steal the attention from under you. When I was there, Parson rarely looked my way- he was too busy fawning over Georgie, attending to her every need instead of my own. And between you and me, let’s be real: she is not as interesting as I am, not even close.

Citing a vague excuse, I leave them there and return to Seven and her trees. Turns out that is a good decision, for Parson. He is mayor! Good for him, bad for me. Angel De Costa, dream boy extraordinaire, a catalyst for everyone’s metamorphosis except his own, it’s a wonder why I haven’t ended it all yet. But even after the years have gone by, I have not turned over a new leaf. My childhood and forever love is my own damn self, to the concerning extent of overt narcissism.

After all, I have only ever had myself to love and to captivate. Lone wolf from the very first day, I learnt how to be comfortable with my catalogue of flaws and my accoutrement of scars over the year, befriending each one as though they were my potential enemies.

But perhaps it’s time I invite someone else in.

I wait for that particular someone else at a reputable bar he is known to frequent, decked out in all my finery: sabre black mesh shirt dotted with diamond sequins, and an equally scandalizing pair of leather trousers. My one good eye gets a lay of the land. Rich folks and their mistresses, god help me, but who am I to judge when I am here with my own dark agendas?

It’s always a challenge to ensnare a serpent.

But daredevil that I am, I make my sleaziest grin as I see Sebastian enter with his entourage and bling. The bodyguard steps in front of me, I duck under his arm, and lo and behold, our eyes clash.

I quirk a brow first. “I come unarmed and with gifts in tow.” Two glasses of alcohol- one is smoothly slotted between Sebastian’s fingers. “There’s a cozy place at the back. May I interest you with a business proposal there, Mr. Baz?” And before he can answer, I add, “it would be rude to turn away an old friend.”

[Deleted]

s e b a s t i e n   s a l a z a r

Yeah, life's never really been better since killing my dad about a week ago. 

Call it a short grieving process, alright? The "Rose Plague" works in mysterious ways - that's what we're going here. If anybody asks, my dad just got super sick and withered away into nothing, and I got a little bit of a small cut of that nothing. See, when he wrote his will it was meant to be split 4 ways, but then Jacinta denied all part of her's and Lucrezia, well, Lucrezia took a long walk off a short pier like pops, so that left a piece for Elena and three for me. 

What she doesn't know won't keep her up at night. 

That's my motto anyways. She's happier than ever too getting to move on knowing her biggest hater is dead, and I'm doing great, too. I'll be inheriting the family business soon- ehh, I don't really like going into detail about it, you get me? Whenever I talk too much about my successes, I feel like I'm just bragging, and who the fuck wants to hear that? Right, right, nobody. That's why I'm so silent these days, ain't much to say when all I'm focused is me, myself & I.

But then it's goddamn Angel de Costa. My eyes catch his just as his hands catch mine, slipping a bottle of bacardi into my grasp. I grab him with my other, making sure he doesn't get away from me too soon again - "I remember you," you motherfucker. He tells me of a cozy place and I imagine what I'd do to him in the back of the club, curtains drawn, it's more important to me than what he has to say. I can't hardly hear him over my fantasies and the club music, so I scoop him into my arms bridal style, his mouth to my ear as I carry this woodland boy away.

He belongs to the forest, him and I both know it, and I just had to remind him again. Where he belonged, I heave him onto the couch in the back room, a tacky red and black affair. "You know me, all business," I don't waste time with small talk. Instead I slide between his legs on the other end of the couch, pressing my waist to his and leaning over him, "cut the shit," I tell him. It's a turn off, I grab his hands and hold them above his head, pressing my chest against him, face to face, "what, coming back all this way just to show up here?" 

I don't mind games as long as you let me win, I hover my lips above his when I ask, "why did you come back?"

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

a n g e l   d e   c o s t a 

There is an old saying I’ve heard from some of the lumberjacks I used to be friends with: ‘Keep your eyes on a serpent if it crosses your path.’

With those words etched in my head, I fix my gaze unblinkingly on Sebastian Salazar. I keep myself still, muscles locked in place, until his hand interweaves with my own, the roughness of our calloused skins greeting each other again in tow. A shiver runs down my spine. The darkness within me keens at the darkness within him, likes calling to likes, and it dawns on me that perhaps I have always been a serpent myself as well, weaving through life, ready to bare fangs at anyone who drew too close.

Something tells me Sebastian understands that. And fuck the mortifying ordeal of being known, I want him to study me like a thesis paper when he picks me up in his arms.

Suave as ever, I wind my arm around his neck and put on my best spellbound eyes.

And I let him spirit me away.

Past the lights, past the throbbing beat and the mass of bodies, heading towards a red and black chamber. He pushes me against a couch, and my heart has already begun playing a crazed beat. I’ve tasted this thrill before when I put a knife through a teenager’s eye, but this sensation feels new, fresh, a chemical cocktail. My hands reach out for him, a move that would have succeeded if he hadn’t swiftly taken a hold of them, pinning me down.

I flash my best evil grin. “Oh now, this is one of my favorite positions,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist, luring him closer. Sebastian knows this is a trap, a beautiful one, draped in cashmere and silk, but a steel trap nonetheless.

Spring me up and see my jaws – I have to make a full mess of him yet.

He leans in, all cologne and fire whiskey, and asks again: “Why did you come back?”

I roll a shoulder daintily. “I grew bored.” Half-true. “Six has very little to offer to someone who needs a high upkeep. So I am back, looking to strike other bargains.” I run a finger down from his temple to cheek, then circle it back around and rest it on his lips.

“Tell me,” a whisper, the hushed contract of a silent bargain, “what does the newest heir to the Salazar fortune have to offer?”