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[geeseandlimes]

[Honkai Star Rail] led with your hands tied

Rating: T Pairing: Gallagher/Sunday, pre-slash Character(s): Gallagher, Sunday Warning(s): Depictions of Violence, Someone giving the other cigarette burns, dog metaphors and predator/prey dynamics (briefly) Summary:

“Master Sunday will not be pleased with your performance, hound.” “Let him be angry. Still got the job done.” or; Gallagher decides to play with fire on the next mission given to him by the Family. He gets burned, literally.

“Master Sunday will not be pleased with your performance, hound.”

“Let him be angry. Still got the job done.”

It’s hard not to tell the Oak Family representative that Gallagher doesn’t particularly give a rat’s ass on how Sunday feels about the entire thing. If the job is done, it’s done, and the sooner Gallagher can go back to doing far more important things with his time. Things like sleeping or taking care of whatever petty thing his subordinates somehow miraculously fumbled. If Sunday wants to be pissy about how Gallagher does things, let him. Not like Gallagher will ever get a promotion or a pay raise in this damn place.

The Oak Family representative doesn’t seem too pleased about Gallagher’s answer, either. They can shove it for all Gallagher cares.

He pulls out his lighter from his pocket, shooing the representative away with a lazy wave of his hand. They make a displeased huff and march off. It leaves Gallagher alone, at peace for once in the hustle and bustle of Penacony’s dreamscape. Gallagher pulls out his box of cigarettes to tap one out and light it. As fake as these things are in this dreamscape, he can still imagine the rush of satisfaction on that first hit of nicotine and going through the motions lets his mind calm down.

He was truly at peace for the briefest of moments.

…or that could be the self-satisfaction talking.

Truth be told, Gallagher is playing a dangerous game this round of “pretend to be loyal to appease the Family.”

A ruthless and merciless mutt like Gallagher should be perfect for this mission, Sunday had said when he approached the Bloodhound family head with this particular request. With such an outstanding record, he’ll have this problem solved neatly.

Efficiently.

Sunday was acting entirely as if Gallagher hadn’t been defanged and declawed by the Family to make him an obedient dog. Sunday was taunting him.

So Gallagher decided to taunt him back. Old hounds can be “messy eaters” when they have barely any teeth left to bite and chew properly.

Gallagher was sloppy.

He knew the issue Sunday needed the Bloodhound Family to deal with almost immediately. A far too industrious (too curious) reporter working for the IPC managed to wriggle their way into the dreamscape under the guise of a vacation—paid for entirely from their own pocket and not ICP funds. This reporter then proceeded to stick their nose in places it didn’t belong. They wandered dangerously close to Family secrets that did not need to be discovered. Naturally, this meant they needed to go.

ASAP.

First, Gallagher sent some of the newer recruits. Still wet behind the ears and jumpy, keen to prove themselves. Predictably, they fail, and the IPC reporter gives them the slip. There’s collateral, too. Gallagher went to find the reporter himself, next. But he doesn’t do it with the usual finesse. Instead of stalking quietly from the shadows he made his presence known.

Any chance to show himself, he did, and watched as the IPC reporter scurried away in fear. Gallagher continued to stalk them. He waited, listened as they tried to trickle as much information as they could (as much as he let them) to the people back in the IPC, before he finally pounced. He was sloppy, yes, but the hunt had been good.

The reporter practically squealed for mercy. Begging and pleading for their life before Gallagher’s jaws closed around their neck. He was messy there, too, and that was the reason a Family representative approached him.

Now, here Gallagher stands, metaphorically picking his teeth clean after a fresh kill.

Gallagher takes a long drag of his cigarette. One beat, two, and then he exhales. His eyes watch the smoke as it lazily curls its way up to the perpetual night sky. It should only be a matter of time before Sunday gets here. As sloppy as Gallagher was, Sunday won’t let his entire performance of this mission slide. It’s almost a blemish on the Family’s (on Sunday’s) pristine record.

He taps the ash off the end of his cigarette. Gallagher should probably make himself scarce for the time being to try and get a little bit of breathing room. He’s got some sharp wit, certainly, but his mind is still exhausted from the hunt. He’d rather face Sunday when he’s got a well-rested mind.

“Going to run away from the scene of the crime as soon as you’re done? Or is it that you are trying to run away from your own bad behavior?”

Gallagher curses in his head. Speak of the devil, and he will come.

He turns around to face Sunday, hands in his pockets and lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Just going to freshen up before I make my report,” Gallagher says smoothly. He purposely ignores the barely concealed disgust in Sunday’s eyes. He can’t get giddy just yet. It’ll blow his cover.

Sunday gives Gallagher a once over. “Freshen up?” he parrots. His head even tilts to the side cutely, almost like one of the origami birds. Gallagher tries hard not to bare his teeth. “I wasn’t even aware you knew how to do that,” Sunday continues. He walks towards Gallagher in even, measure strides, stopping once he’s in front of him. Gallagher almost snarls when Sunday’s hand comes up to tap a knuckle delicately against Gallagher’s tie.

“Not when you barely seem to care about your own slovenly appearance.”

“I’m sure the way I dress is not why you’re here.”

Sunday’s hand falls away, once again taking position behind his back.

“Considering your lackluster performance, I felt it imperative to talk with you myself.”

Gallagher gives a noncommittal hum. Sunday’s wings twitch the slightest in annoyance, but otherwise the man stays impeccably calm and unbothered. It makes Gallagher want to grab him by those wings and pull, act the disobedient dog Sunday likes to paint him as. It makes Gallagher want to do what he just did to that reporter not too long ago. Stalk him, make him paranoid, wait for the right time until he can lunge forward and sink sharp teeth into Sunday’s delicate breast.

The taste of blood will be so sweet.

“What you did almost cost the Family some of our reputation and money. While the Alfalfa Family assured me that there has been no decline in funds, the damage has still been done.”

Gallagher brings his hand up to grab at his cigarette. Sunday doesn’t let him. A prim, gloved hand swats Gallagher’s own away. That same hand plucks the cigarette straight from Gallagher’s lips. He can only watch, a little wide-eyed, as Sunday brings the cigarette to his own mouth and takes a drag off it.

The smoke he blows from his mouth is wispy and delicate, but smothering, just like the man himself.

“You were reckless,” Sunday says, “and almost caused us to lose a lot of money. The only reason the other heads have not rallied for a more extreme punishment is because you did finish the job in the end.” Just not to Sunday’s standards. That was what Gallagher was going for, but he needs to play the fool. He sheepishly brings a hand up to scratch at the back of his head.

He tucks his tail between his legs, lets his metaphorical ears draw flat against his skull. Gallagher even tries to act a little bit apologetic.

“Must have had a bad night, then,” he says. “Sorry, I’ll do better next time.”

Sunday appraises him, long and hard.

“I do not care for liars, hound.”

Gallagher wishes to tear out his throat and feast on his innards.

“Know that you will have to work hard to make me believe you. Do not slip up like this again.”

The threat of a heavier punishment hangs over Gallagher like a guillotine. His gums are itching, his muscles tense—all of it a bone deep anger that Gallagher tries to repress.

“Yes, sir,” Gallagher rasps out.

That seems to appease Sunday.

His smile is mocking, “Good boy.” Sunday is taunting him again. Gallagher can only watch as Sunday takes one last puff off of the cigarette. “Hand,” Sunday instructs.

“I’m not an actual dog—”

“Hand.”

Gallagher gives it far too willingly. His pride stings, but he reminds himself of the reason he’s doing all of this. Sunday doesn’t even say anything when he takes Gallagher’s hand. He just briefly runs his thumb over the bumps of Gallagher’s knuckles.

A burning pain follows.

It is the dreamscape, but pain still feels all too real. The only noise Gallagher makes when Sunday presses the lit end of the cigarette against his skin is a sharp hiss of breath. He keeps steady, still, knowing the game Sunday is trying to play. One wrong move and Gallagher is in the doghouse. One wrong move and he’s back to square one. He closes his eyes to block out the pain, opening them again when Sunday lifts the cigarette off of Gallagher’s skin and flicks it to the side.

A harsh red circle stars back at Gallagher. “A reminder,” Sunday says. “If you mess up again, the punishment will be far worse.”

Gallagher doesn’t even watch his tongue this time, “Fuck off.”

That smile Sunday wears turns cold, wicked.

“Care to repeat that?” Sunday’s voice holds a dark promise.

Gallagher swallows thickly.

Remember, remember why you’re suffering through all of this. Remember your plans.

“I’m sorry, sir, and I will not do this again.”

“…good boy.”

And with those words, Sunday turns on his heel and leaves Gallagher alone. When Sunday is out of his sight Gallagher spits and seethes. He angrily stomps out the cigarette, grinding it into the false concrete of the dreamscape.

He can’t wait to finally break Sunday.

*****

When Sunday opens his eyes, it is to the real world. When his senses finally come back to him, he almost rushes to the bathroom with how ill he feels. The fake cigarette that he had taken from Gallagher in the dream had been atrocious. The smoke filled his head, his nose, and suffocated him in a way that he hated. It made him feel horrid.

But not as horrid as that Bloodhound did.

Sunday can still taste the cigarette on his tongue. Or perhaps it is something unique to Gallagher.

Sunday doesn’t care.

He doesn’t wish to know.

That old mutt just needs to obey.

[geeseandlimes]

[Honkai: Star Rail] Simulated You

Rating: G Pairing: Caelus/Dan Heng Character(s): Caelus, Dan Heng, March 7th, Herta Warning(s): None Summary:

A bug in the Simulated Universe causes Caelus to leave with a copy of Dan Heng's Imbibitor Lunae form. A very clingy Imbibitor Lunae. The only way to solve the problem is by either letting it run its course or...to fulfill Caelus' desire. Too bad Caelus is pretty sure Dan Heng doesn't like him like that.

“Well,” Herta says with a drawl in her voice that shows more amusement than disinterest, “it’s not like it’s im possible.” 

Her extra emphasis only makes Caelus cringe. If Herta shows amusement then it just means bad things for him on the horizon. All of the newer features that kick his ass in the Simulated Universe are all prefaced by Herta showing some sort of almost genuine excitement. Though he’s not sure if he wants the puppet to dissect what’s going on right now.

“And can it be fixed?” Caelus asks.

Herta waves her hand, flippant. “Yes, yes, it can. It’ll just take some time.” Herta speak for ‘ I’m too amused by this so I’m going to drag it out as long as possible. ’ There’s the slight narrow of her eyes. A sly little smile that makes its way onto her face. “But, would you really want me to fix it?” she asks.

“Yes,” Caelus says, a little desperately. “It scares me.”

“I scare you?” a voice whispers into his ear. Caelus can’t help the red flush that creeps up his neck. He desperately tries to ignore the press of a soft, but firm, chest against his arm and the press of plush lips against the shell of his ear. Caelus especially tries to ignore the curl of a tail around his leg and the gentle embrace he is currently finding himself in. It makes him have thoughts and he can’t have thoughts because–

“Dan Heng doesn’t like me like this and this isn’t real,” Caelus blurts out. 

All while a copy of Dan Heng’s vidyadhara form is clinging to him and nuzzling close as if Caelus is all he wants in the world.

“He’s real !” Herta sounds almost offended. “He’s fresh from the Simulated Universe–although due to a bug in the system–so he’s very much real!”

“He’s data! ” Caelus’ protest falls on deaf ears. Herta waves him off with a flick of her hair.

“But he’s in the here and now, courtesy of my Simulated Universe!” she says. “So you might as well treat him as if he’s real until I figure something out. Give Himeko my regards.” And that’s that. Herta does not give Caelus any room to argue. She cuts the conversation off, goes back to whatever she works on when he isn’t sifting through the Simulated Universe, and ignores him. Just leaves him to his…clingy Vidyadhara fate.

Speaking of Vidyadhara, Caelus is not going to have fun explaining why he’s coming on board with another Dan Heng.

“Caelus?” Simulated Dragon Dan Heng tightens the hold he has on Caelus. “Aren’t we heading back to the others?”

Caelus closes his eyes in defeat. There’s no avoiding this. He can’t just spend an indeterminate amount of time on the space station. Better face the music now. “Yeah, let’s go,” he says, and prays to god that March does not make a fuss.

*****

March makes a fuss.

She’s wide-eyed and flustered, her finger pointing furiously back and forth between Regular Dan Heng and Simulated Dan Heng. Her finger finally lands on Caelus, mouth slack jawed. “ How!? ” March squeaks out. “ How, how, hooooow!???? ” 

Caelus wishes he can answer her with proper words. Maybe something along the lines of the Simulated Universe is just weird, or that there was a little hiccup. Instead, trapped as he is in Simulated Dan Heng’s arms (and tail) he can only awkwardly shrug. “Herta wouldn’t explain it properly,” he adds, as if that will help any. March fumbles for a bit, obviously confused, but it’s Dan Heng that Caelus is worried about. He keeps glimpsing over at the other man trying to gauge his reaction but he sees nothing. He doesn’t even hear Dan Heng say anything.

Simulated Dan Heng nuzzles close, cheek rubbing against Caelus’ own. It’s far too affectionate compared to how Dan Heng usually is. It gives Caelus thoughts again. All the “what ifs” and “could have been” if only–

Simulated Dan Heng presses his lips against Caelus’ cheek.

March shrieks, eyes wide and expression scandalized. Dan Heng looks just as scandalized, if not betrayed. Caelus can only pray for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him. Maybe eject him out into space where he will then die of suffocation and the stellaron in his body can blow up safely. Anything to save him from whatever is going on right now. 

“What’s wrong, Caelus?” Simulated Dan Heng asks, all coy and sweet. There’s honey dripping from his words. Something that Caelus finds incredibly hilarious considering what a simple question it is. A question that’s followed up by another kiss that lands dangerously close to the corner of Caelus’ mouth.  This is absolutely slipping out of Caelus’ control (not that he had any).  He places his hands on Simulated Dan Heng’s arms, ready to push them off. First thing first, he needs to extract himself from Simulated Dan Heng’s hold. 

As nice as it is to even have Dan Heng (though not the real Dan Heng) pressed up to him, this situation is not meant to happen. Caelus wants things to be normal. Normal conversations, normal interactions–normal, normal, normal. He’ll just keep his feelings for Dan Heng tucked close to his chest. No need to shake the fragile atmosphere on the Express after everything that happened on the Luofu.

“Nothing’s wrong–”

“Everything is wrong.”

Caelus blinks owlishly as he feels a firm grip on his arm. With one harsh tug he finds himself stumbling out of Simulated Dan Heng’s hold and into Dan Heng’s chest. “Everything is absolutely wrong,” Dan Heng repeats. “You need to give him space so he can answer our questions.”

Simulated Dan Heng’s eyes narrow. His arms cross, so reminiscent of regular Dan Heng, and the look on his face is unimpressed. Caelus, still cradled in Dan Heng’s arms, finds himself sweating. He’s not quite sure what’s about to happen now. 

“Then, shouldn’t you let him go, too?” Simulated Dan Heng asks. His tail is flicking behind him in annoyance. “You’re also holding on to him far too tightly.”

Dan Heng lets Caelus go as if he’s been burned.

Caelus stumbles forward, finally allowed to have a little breathing room ever since he left the space station. March is quick to rush up to him, nervously clinging to his sleeve as she stares at the two Dan Hengs staring each other down. “C-Come on you guys, let’s just figure out how to solve this,” March says. 

“Herta is the only one who can help, though,” Caelus tells her. “And you know how Herta treats me.”

“Like a guinea pig, it’s disgusting,” both Dan Heng and Simulated Dan Heng say at the same time. The two glare at each other, but Simulated Dan Heng is the one who does something. He makes his way back to Caelus’ side. He doesn’t hug Caelus like before. He just nestles himself close to Caelus’ side, tail idly coiling around Caelus’ leg.

“I don’t like it at all,” Simulated Dan Heng murmurs. A hand comes up to rest on Caelus’ chest. “She puts you through way too much. You can ask for my help.” That hand trails up Caelus’ throat, delicate fingers coming up to tickle at Caelus’ chin. March is making flustered noises, her grip on Caelus’ sleeve threatening to tear the fabric.

“Stop that,” Dan Heng snaps. 

Simulated Dan Heng scoffs.

“Why? Are you jealous and wish to be where I am instead?” Simulated Dan Heng follows his words up by gently grasping Caelus’ chin. Caelus has to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes widening as his head is turned to look at Simulated Dan Heng. He’s trapped by jade eyes, bright pupils, by his own thoughts of always wanting to kiss Dan Heng. Caelus’ heart is pounding as Simulated Dan Heng leans in. A part of his mind is yelling at him to pull away, but the love-drunk part of him, the one who loves Dan Heng a bit too much, demands he stays still.

“Caelus! Caelus, snap out of it, Dan Heng looks ready to kill!” March’s words fall on deaf ears.

Caelus parts his mouth, body shivering as he feels Simulated Dan Heng’s nose brush against his, their mouths about to connect–

Caelus is drenched in water right at the same time as the door to the lounge car slides open and Himeko comes strolling in with Welt announcing that she was able to get the solution for their problem from Herta. Dan Heng had turned into his Vidyadhara form, having used his cloudhymn magic to interrupt the almost kiss.

“Oh,” Himeko says, eyes wide, “did we perhaps interrupt something?”

*****

Yeah, Caelus definitely wants to die now. Not that he can, considering he is currently sat on Dan Heng’s bed in the archives, with Simulated Dan Heng curled up in his lap and purring .

Purring!

Dan Heng himself is standing by the terminal inputting data to the archive as always. Though, if Caelus squints his eyes a little, he swears he can see that Dan Heng’s movements are stiffer than usual. Angry, Caelus thinks. Dan Heng is angry. Caelus doesn’t blame him for being angry, either. The information that Herta had supplied Himeko with revealed too much information than Caelus was comfortable with. And that information directly involved Dan Heng.

Herta told me that the bug happened due to Caelus’ own desires getting mixed with the system that made Aeons manifest. The Dan Heng that is currently…very affectionate with him is what Caelus wishes to have. It should go away on its own. Or, if you wish to have this entity disappear faster, then simply fulfill those desires.

Caelus groans and closes his eyes. The worst way for Dan Heng to find out that Caelus harbors feelings that go beyond friendship for him. Simulated Dan Heng snuggles closer, as if taunting Caelus. At least the explanation Himeko gave explains the uncharacteristic way Simulated Dan Heng is asking. All of Caelus’ desires, made manifest thanks to a simple bug in the Simulated Universe. Honestly, Caelus should be apologizing to Dan Heng for all of this.

He came on board with a copy of Dan Heng’s Vidyadhara form. Said Vidyadhara form was latched onto Caelus and refused to let go. On top of that, Himeko then dropped the equivalent of a nuke in terms of information by saying that this Vidyadhara form reflected every single desire inside of Caelus. Dan Heng had to find out that Caelus wishes to not only kiss him, but also want him glued to his hip almost twenty-four seven.

Caelus would hate himself, too.

“Hey, Dan Heng–”

“Why aren’t you asking me,” Dan Heng, like he’s been doing since Caelus came back, cuts him off.

Caelus blinks owlishly. “What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you asking me for help?” Dan Heng repeats. He’s stopped working on the archive, making his way to where Caelus and Simulated Dan Heng are sitting. “We can solve it by fulfilling your desires, right? So why aren’t you asking me?”

“Wha–Dan Heng, you do know what I want considering how this other you is asking, right?” As if to emphasize Caelus’ words, Simulated Dan Heng coils his tail tighter around Caelus’ waist. “I can’t ask that of you. You don’t…you don’t even like me like that.” Admitting it out loud hurts, but it’s the truth. Dan Heng appreciates Caelus as a friend. There’s no romantic attachment. 

Dan Heng’s face looks conflicted, face twisting in rarely seen emotion.

Simulated Dan Heng’s purring stops. His hands cradle Caelus’ face, once again making Caelus look at him. “Look at you,” Simulated Dan Heng says, “so sad. Don’t look like that, you have me.” Simulated Dan Heng leans in for a kiss again, as if to comfort, but Caelus stops it by bringing a hand between them. It’s too much. 

The smile Caelus puts on towards Dan Heng is self-depreciating. “Sorry, this must make you uncomfortable. I know we moved here just because it’s easier to keep an eye on the Simulated Universe version of you, but we can leave.”

Dan Heng doesn’t answer. In lieu of words he sits down next to Caelus. Almost awkwardly, he leans against Caelus to rest his head on Caelus’ shoulder. Simulated Dan Heng watches. Silence stretches between the three, long and awkward. It’s broken by Dan Heng.

“I don’t…I don’t know how to express myself properly,” Dan Heng says. “I’m too used to keeping to myself. That and I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you.” 

“...yeah?” Caelus waits for Dan Heng to continue. Unconsciously, he tightens his grip on Simulated Dan Heng, who also stays quiet while Dan Heng speaks.

“So seeing you come onboard with the other me and seeing him do what I’ve sometimes thought about doing really made me…jealous.” Dan Heng seems to curl in on himself after admitting that. It’s an admission, a confession, that makes Caelus’ heart leap into his throat. He desperately tries to untangle himself from Simulated Dan Heng but only succeeds in draping one arm over Dan Heng. Jealous , Dan Heng is jealous . All because this other him had been clinging to Caelus and kissing him and doing the exact same things that Caelus thinks of whenever he sees Dan Heng.

“So you like me?” Caelus asks. “Like I like you?”

The tinge of red on Dan Heng’s ears tells Caelus everything.

“So I can keep saying that I like you. That I love you and want to kiss you and– mmph! ”

Caelus’ words are cut off by Dan Heng fisting his collar and dragging him in for a kiss. Their teeth bump together awkwardly and it’s more like they’re mashing their mouths together more than kissing. Caelus doesn’t care. He drinks it all in with glee, heart beating hard in his chest.

Dan Heng likes him.

Dan Heng loves him.

“Hey, I want one too,” Simulated Dan Heng says, trying to lean in and steal a kiss of his own. Dan Heng growls, his own tail finally coming out to wrap tightly around Caelus’ arm.

“You can’t have one,” Dan Heng says. “He’s mine.”

“I’m you, so that means he’s mine, too.”

Caelus can only awkwardly laugh as the two bicker, only to pause once he realizes that Simulated Dan Heng is still in his lap and not gone like Herta said he would be once Caelus’ desires were realized. Dan Heng seems to notice this, too.

“Caelus, what was it, exactly, that you wanted to do if he’s still here?” Dan Heng asks.

“Uhm.”

“Caelus?”

The following day, Simulated Dan Heng is gone and Caelus and Dan Heng come into the dining car together for breakfast. March is sitting there, head in her hands, and when they sit down she glares at them.

“Loud,” she hisses, “you’re too loud. Next time you guys decided to have some surprise fun time do it somewhere else.”

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his fist while Caelus looks absolutely unashamed. Hard to be embarrassed when he got everything he wanted last night. He casually hooks an arm around Dan Heng, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Couldn’t help it, I was just happy to be with the guy I love.”

Notes: Wooo! Baby's first post on the writing blog lmao. Written for a CaeHeng server's valentine's exchange for my giftee who gave me the fun prompt of Clingy DanHeng and Caelus sandwiched between his normal form and vidyadhara form.

don't question the logic for the Simulated Uni bug it was for plot purposes