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ckjbun · 4 years ago

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What kind of ability would Higuchi have and its potential name?

Hi to whoever is reading this! This is my first self-written post so I’m still figuring out how all this works and I’m sorry, if it gets a bit chaotic. Anyways, recently, I came across a question regarding Higuchi from Bungou Stray Dogs. It was about what Higuchi’s ability would be called and what type it would be. So I won’t go into details whether she has an ability or not. I believe she has since she is named after an author (and Asagiri himself kinda confirmed it via Twitter). Thus, I just want to write my thoughts on the potential names and kind of ability.

Since abilities in the BSD world are always named after rather well-known works of the authors, I compared some of the famous works of Higuchi Ichiyo. Now mind you, I haven’t read her works myself. I mostly relied on comparing summaries and analyses of them. Since there are not a lot of summaries, I read two lesser-known stories myself. I will add the links of the summaries/analyses of the works down below. However, while comparing I found two works that would fit Higuchi. Now, first what do I mean by “fit”? Well, it might be best to start explaining what I think about the type of Higuchi’s ability.

I believe Higuchi has not an offensive type of ability. Nothing like Atsushi’s, Akutagawa’s, Kyouka’s etc. If she had, I’m sure she would have used it already, since she’s fighting a lot with her guns, why wouldn’t she use her ability as an addition, why would she hide it? There are two possibilities why we haven’t seen her ability yet. First possibility would be that her ability is not visible like Odasaku’s or Ango’s, maybe it’s even an ability that she hasn’t even discovered, just like Fukuzawa hasn’t realized he has one before the ADA. Second would be that she can use her ability only under stringent conditions. And I believe it’s the latter, hear me out.

Remember this scene from Chapter 14? Higuchi reaches out to hold Akutagawa’s hand but then pulls back because she remembered him saying that he doesn’t need her help. Now, you could argue that holding the hands of injured loved ones is a gesture of closeness, a way to show them your support, a way to tell them that you’re staying by their side. And Aku doesn’t want this support, so that’s why she retracted her hand. But something bothers me here. In this scene it looks like Aku slapped Higuchi’s hand away, doesn’t it? And then he says, he doesn’t need her help, instead of support. I know, you could say support and help are almost the same. But to me, help is something that you do more “actively”, while support can be something passive. What if Higuchi’s hand represents this “active” help? And what would actively help Akutagawa in this very moment? A healing ability for example. Coincidentally, in the panel before, Hirotsu asks Higuchi what power she posses to make them [the black lizard] obey. Is this a hint that there is a hint about Higuchi’s ability in the next panel? Maybe. But let’s look at the next panel. It’s the title page of this chapter.

As you can see, Higuchi has a bandage wrapped around her leg and they seem connected to Akutagawa. In this chapter, it is revealed that Higuchi contemplated about leaving the Port Mafia but her reason for staying is implied to be Akutagawa. This is perfectly symbolized by the bandages in this title page. The bandages coming from Akutagawa are holding her leg back, stopping her from walking away from the PM. But maybe there is a second interpretation? If you’re looking at Akutagawa’s left hand, the bandages are starting to come off. What if this means Akutagawa is healing and doesn’t need the bandages anymore? Instead it wraps around Higuchi’s leg, restricting her movement. What if Higuchi’s ability allows her to help someone else (doesn’t have to be necessarily a healing ability) but in exchange she needs to sacrifice something? Anyways, I think she has an ability which allows her to help other people in a non-combat way. With this in mind, I was looking through several works of Higuchi Ichiyo, searching for something that “fits”. Meaning that I was looking for parallels and themes in irl Higuchi’s stories that could be “converted” into an ability. Just like the coat that the protagonist of Rashomon��stole in order to now die of hunger was used as Akutagawa’s ability which seems to be able to eat everything, or like the wish that one’s brother does not die in war in Thou Shalt Not Die became Yosano’s ability and serving as a basis of her background story. Anyways, I’d like to present the works that could be used for Higuchi’s ability and draw some parallels.

1. The Thirteen’s Night

The story revolves around a poor woman, called Oseki. Thanks to her marriage to a rich man, her family was able to live a better life and her brother found a job. But on the thirteenth night of the ninth month of the lunar calendar (one of two special nights for moon viewing), Oseki visited her parents with the intention on asking her parents for approval for divorcing her husband. Before entering, she overhears her parents talking about how lucky they are that they have such good children who don’t cause trouble and that they are very thankful for this marriage. Hesitating at first, she finally goes in and admits that she wants to divorce her husband because he abuses her mentally. He insults her constantly and tells her that she's worthless, stupid, and uneducated. Her mother is outraged. But her father, even though he acknowledges her suffering, reminds her what her husband has done for this family and that she would lose her son since women couldn’t get custody of their children after a divorce at that time. Agreeing with her father, Oseki decides to go back to her husband:

“It was selfish of me to think of a divorce. You're right. If I couldn't see Tarō, there'd be no point in living. I might flee my present sorrows, but what kind of future would I have? If I could think of myself as already dead, that would solve everything… Then Tarō would have both his parents with him. It was a foolish idea I had, and I've troubled you with the whole unpleasant business. From tonight I will consider myself dead — a spirit who watches over Tarō. That way I can bear Isamu's cruelty for a hundred years to come.”

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

Just like BSD Higuchi contemplates leaving the PM, the protagonist here wants to leave her husband. The PM is like the husband. It allows her to support herself and probably her family (at least we saw that she has a sister). But there is constant abuse. Akutagawa is clearly the biggest source of abuse that we can see. But it’s not only him. In Chapter 14, Mori asks her if she is really suited for this job. Telling her indirectly that she is useless or that she is too weak for the PM. Later, you can see the Black Lizard doubting her capabilities, even threatening her. But just like Oseki she stays because of a loved one. What really concerns me is Oseki saying that she will consider herself as a dead spirit watching over Tarō. What if Higuchi, in order to use her ability, has to sacrifice part of her lifespan? Or maybe she loses a feeling? Like e.g. she loses the ability to feel happiness, making her a bit more dead inside? If you draw this parallel, you could also say that when ‘consider myself dead’ is the condition of the ability, then ‘watching over Tarō’ is a hint to Higuchi’s ability. An ability that allows her to watch over and protect her loved ones? This theme fits Higuchi perfectly, since a big topic in Higuchi’s story line is how she wants to help and protect Akutagawa. So it makes sense that her ability might be something that would help him (**intensely squinting at the recent events in the manga, especially chapter 88**). Moving on to the second possibility before the pain starts to set in.

2. Takekurabe (literally: "Comparing heights", "Child's Play" in the Robert Lyons Danly translation, "Growing Up" in the Edward Seidensticker translation)

Now this is considered as Higuchi Ichiyo’s masterpiece. So the chances are high that the ability is based on this story. The story accompanies a group of children who live next to the Yoshiwara quarter. There are two rival gangs: the main street gang (’omote-machi’), lead by Shōtarō, a cultivated young boy who is the grandson of the owner of a pawnshop, and the back street gang (’yoko-chō’), lead by Chōkichi, the impulsive firefighter’s son. (Maybe a parallel to the ADA with (cultivated) Fukuzawa and the PM with Mori who’s a doctor which belongs into the same category of occupation as firefighters?). Among the main street gang, there was Midori, popular and pretty, who lives in the brothel where her sister works. Shōtarō probably has a crush on her. But Midori probably has feelings for the other main character, Nobu, the son of a Buddhist priest. Even though he returns her feelings, he distances himself from her out of his self-consciousness. Later he joins the rival gang after repeated request by Chōkichi. Anyways, they spend their days very care-free, attending school, playing with each other after school. One day, some conflict arises between the gangs and Midori, while protecting someone else, gets slapped by Chōkichi with a sandal. He then proceeds to tell her that their gang is backed by no other than Nobu. Midori feels humiliated and stops going to school. Soon she also stops playing with the other children. After some time passed, Midori is seen with her hair all done up. She has become a distant, lady-like young woman. This probably means that she got her first period and is old enough to become a prostitute or that she just had her first client as a courtesan. Little by little, the children grow up. Nobu is sent off to be trained as a priest and Shōtarō has come to accept the responsibilities of his family’s shop.

There are several themes in this story that I’d like to point out, namely unrequited love, Midori’s transformation and underlying unchangeable fates. The first one is obviously a big theme in Higuchi’s story. Midori and Nobu are unable to express their love for each other because of their positions in life. Just like Higuchi is unable to express her feelings for Akutagawa. If you want some hope, AkuHigu shippers, maybe Aku has also feelings for Higuchi but is still very confused and self-conscious about it just like Nobu. Anyways, because of their positions in the PM, it would make everything very complicated if Higuchi confessed. Additionally, Midori feels like she was humiliated by her love when she got slapped by that sandal. I’m sure that Higuchi gets humiliated by Akutagawa a lot. The next theme is Midori’s transformation from a tomboyish to a lady-like, distant woman. We all know Higuchi looks really badass in her suits. But again, look at the title page of chapter 14. Higuchi is dressed up all prettily and lady-like in a dress, and her hair is done all up. Just like Midori after her transformation. Midori’s transformation stands for Midori accepting her occupation as a prostitute even though she doesn’t want to. In this chapter, we see that Higuchi has accepted her job in the PM, even though she doesn’t want to do this job. At the end Shōtarō sings the following:

"Growing up,

she plays among the butterflies

and flowers.

But she turns sixteen,

and all she knows

is work and sorrow."

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

I don’t know about you guys, but to me that necklace that Higuchi is wearing in that title page looks like a butterfly to me. This is really farfetched but maybe this could be a hint about when Higuchi joined the Port Mafia? However, the biggest theme in Takekurabe is the underlying unchangeable fate of the children. Shōtarō was destined to become the next owner of the pawnshop, Nabu was destined to become a Buddhist monk and Midori would become a prostitute. Maybe this gives us some insight into why Higuchi joined the PM? Maybe one of her parents was a PM member? I also like to think that since Aku is in the PM, since she wants to be with him, she can’t but stay in the PM, and this is her fate. Nevertheless, fate is a central theme in Takekurabe. This is the reason why I think, if the ability is based on this story, Higuchi’s ability would be something like changing fates. Changing fate of someone else but in return she must sacrifice something.

Okay, so this post has become quite long. But I still wanted to mention two other stories Yamizakura (Flowers at Dusk) and The Sound of the Koto where I saw a lot of parallels. I just want to briefly tell you the story of The Sound of the Koto. In this story a woman abandons her son in order to leave her husband who has a bad reputation. The husband then turns into an alcoholic and dies later at a party because of alcohol intoxication. The boy becomes hardened to the world, despises his mother for leaving them, and even contemplates suicide. The story shifts then to a woman playing the koto. I want to give you an excerpt for the end of this story:

“On this night the sound of the woman’s playing helped another to be reborn. Through fourteen springs and fourteen autumns, the boy had been buffeted by the rains. His heart had gradually toughened until it had become as hard as stone. No arrow could penetrate it. He seemed destined to follow the example of his father, to die among the fields or in the mountains, where his remains would be bleached by the elements. Some were convinced the boy’s life would end in prison chains, while his bad name spread to every roadside.

But now, at once, the tenderness buried in his heart was freed by the midnight strains of the koto. For the first time in many years, he felt tears come to his eyes. Or were they jewelled drops of dew? He would not exchange them for anything.

He, who had known neither love nor compassion, and who had no idea what the player of these refrains could even look like, felt a moment of happiness as the music drifted over the garden wall. […]

[…] How could a stormy wind blow now? The clouds in his heart had disappeared. Once more the woman began to play. The sound of the koto would be his friend for a hundred years, the seed for a hundred years of yearning. He had entered a world where a hundred different flowers wer in bloom.

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

This boy somehow just reminds me so much of Akutagawa. Just like this boy, without any parents and home, wandering around in this world, Akutagawa has become hardened to the world. I’d like to think that Higuchi’s ability could free Akutagawa from his pain, just like the sound of koto does for this boy.

So, now I said everything I wanted to say, I guess. If there is really anyone reading this and reading this until here, thank you so much! I appreciate it very much that you kept reading even though my thoughts are probably quite chaotic. I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or weird sentence structures or anything like this. English is not my first language. I’m very happy, if you could point out any mistakes or have any suggestion for improvement. Lastly, I just want to remind you that these are my thoughts, I love discussing so feel free to comment your thoughts but I’d like you to keep in mind that there is not necessarily a wrong or right, theories are theories, interpretations are interpretations. Everyone has another interpretation. They can only be proven wrong by Asagiri sensei himself. Until then just keep the discussions friendly and tolerant towards other people’s thoughts and opinions.

Sources:

All manga panels used in this post are from easygoingscans

Higuchi Ichiyo (樋口一葉)

Higuchi Ichiyo: "In the Shade of Spring Leaves"

In The Shade Of Spring Leaves: The Life Of Higuchi Ichiyo, With Nine Of Her Best Stories, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

In the Shade of Spring Leaves – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 1

“Flowers at Dusk” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 2

“Encounters on a Dark Night” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 3

“Child’s Play” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 4

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ: BADASS WOMEN IN JAPANESE HISTORY

The Thirteenth Night (Wikipedia)

Female Subject, Interrupted in Higuchi Ichiyō's "The Thirteenth Night"

GAME OF TRADITIONS: TRADITION IN THE THIRTEENTH NIGHT AND DIARY OF A MAD MAN

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ IN MODERN JAPANESE AND EUROPEAN DRESS: Modern Japanese versions (gendaigoyaku) of Higuchi Ichiyō’s Takekurabe and their Relationship with English, Castilian Spanish and Catalan Translations

Separate Ways Summary

Literary Analysis of “Separate Ways”

Flowers at Dusk

Nigorie (Wikipedia)

From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō's "Troubled Waters"

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atiny-ahgase · 4 years ago

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The Promise And A Stray Pup

Title: The Promise And A Stray Pup

Chapter 2: Promise You’ll Be Good

Author’s Note: Okay so I usually write the author’s notes before I even write the story idk why… I just do. Anyway, I had no idea how this is gonna turn out soo..yeah.

Summary: Y/n returns home in search of a hybrid friend that she had left oh so long ago. Will she be able to help him? Did their friendship withstand the hands of time or did it crumble from the pressure?

This is chapter 2 of the Series “A Pinky Promise And A Stray Pup, you can read chapter 1 here.

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Pairing: Hybrid Yunho x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Genre: Hybrid au, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Smut, Dom Reader, Sub Yunho, Edging, Controlled Orgasm, Masturbation

Contains: Hybrid Yunho, Gender Neutral Reader, Fluff, Smut

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You paced through the narrow hallway of your one-bedroom apartment for what seemed like the millionth time. Releasing a loud groan you dove unto the soft cushions of your couch, burying your face in one of your many throw pillows. It had been exactly 2 days,14 hours, and 27 minutes since you had last seen Yunho...not that you were counting or anything. He seemed kinda off during your last interaction, his breathing seemed strained and his cheeks were a bright shade of pink, granted his face seemed to be tinted that light shade of pink quite often. His voice wasn’t the smooth sweet melody that you had already become so used to, it seemed deeper, almost huskier. Sure, he had just woken up but still, something felt off to you. Maybe you were overthinking it, over-analyzing the situation as you usually did but how could you not? He hadn’t contacted you for two whole days. Sure, he could be busy with work but when you visited his workplace they said that he hadn’t been in on that day. Then where was he? What could he possibly be doing?

What if he was sick? What if he had realized that you weren’t the same kindergartener that he had met so many years ago? What if he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? What would you do then? Everything that you had done since the moment you and Yunho had parted ways was all done to meet him again. You studied extra hard to get a scholarship, you worked extra shifts to pay off apartment expenses, you settled on choosing this apartment because it was closer to your old school. Everything that you had done was all for him but...what if he didn’t want that? What if he was having second thoughts? Where would that leave you? What would you do when your entire reason for bettering yourself decided that you weren’t enough?

He said that he’d come to visit you again but it's been two days and still nothing, you were starting to worry. Sure you hadn’t seen him for twelve years prior but now even a day without him feels unbearable. You’d wondered how you had survived so long without having him by your side. Even your tiny apartment felt as though it had tripled in size since his absence, the walls seemed to have expanded overnight, feeling far too large for just you. Yunho seemed to fit so perfectly in your life so the fact that he wasn’t there next to you felt like such a foreign feeling even though he had only recently reentered it.

Your worrying carried on for the remainder of the week and before you knew it classes had begun. The first couple of days were pretty basic; mostly consisting of introductions and lesson plans. You had even somehow managed to befriend the bespeckled hybrid boy who sat next to you in your Math class. His hair was dyed a soft orange which highlighted the warmth of his smile, he wore an oversized hoodie and round-rimmed glasses. Even seated he towered over you, and to be quite honest you were originally incredibly intimidated by his large stature but that lasted a solid two minutes. His dog-like playfulness immediately shining through, casting away all of your prior fears. You had both managed to get pretty close before your class had started, him laughing at all of your jokes, his tail happily wagging behind you as he clutched his stomach, tears springing from his eyes.

He introduced himself as Mingi, a dog hybrid who only moved in a few months ago, apparently he wanted a fresh place to make a new start and opted for somewhere quiet. Surprisingly you both shared a lot of the same courses which was great for you because now you had a seat buddy. The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly and it was finally time for lunch, you and Mingi sat on the wooden benches across from the school library, taking in the way the yellow leaves danced in the wind as the breeze sang a gentle song. Your shoulders brushed each others’ as you listened to his stories about his hometown, your attention hanging on to every single word that he spoke. His way of telling stories captivated you, it was as though you were watching a movie, every scene that he set was so vivid, it was as though you were living through each moment. Before long your school day had ended and it was finally time to go home. Walking out from your final lecture for the day you looked up at the sky “, Looks like it’s about to rain,” you hypothesized.

“Please don’t jinx it, the UNI’s Shuttle doesn’t drop me off at the front of my house and I really don’t wanna walk through the rain,” he explained with an exasperated sigh. Soon after his words were uttered a thunderous roar was heard from the sky and raindrops began falling unto the earth below. You could hear the displeased groans from your friend beside you which caused you to let out a small laugh. “Alright Mingi tell me where you live and I’ll think about giving you a ride”, you jokingly said while pulling him in the direction of your car. “You’re the best Y/n,” he said before engulfing you into a hug from behind. “Mingi you’re gonna crush me then I’lldie before I drive you home,” you exclaimed while trying to control your laughter. Were all dog hybrids this affectionate?

Mingi lived fairly close to the supermarket where Yunho worked which was great for you since you found yet another excuse to ‘drop in’ after you had dropped Mingi off. Unfortunately, Yunho wasn’t there yet again and quite honestly it was starting to get on your nerves. You released a loud sigh before heading to your car and driving home. It was only upon arriving home did you notice Mingi’s jacket seated comfortably on your back seat. You playfully rolled your eyes before retrieving it and bringing it into your apartment. Pulling out your phone you sent him a quick text informing him that you were holding his jacket for ransom and if he doesn’t buy you breakfast tomorrow then he’ll never see it again. You know just a basic text. After that was done you decided that your couch was as good a place as any for Mingi’s jacket to rest for the night.

Not long after getting comfortable, you heard someone knocking at your door. “Who could that be?” you thought. You didn’t know that many people from around here and even if you did they didn’t know where you lived. Getting up from your couch you walked over to the door pulling it open to reveal who was on the other side.

“And here I thought that you forgot where I lived,” you remarked as you looked up at the dog hybrid towering above you. Of course, it was Yunho, the only other person in town that knew where you lived was your landlady, and something was telling you that she had little to no reason to come knocking on your door at this hour. “I’m really sorry Y/n,” you heard him say softly, if it had been any quieter you would not have heard him at all. Looking at his face it seemed a lot paler than you remembered and he wore a tired expression as though he hadn’t slept for days.

“I wanted to come to see you sooner but I was really sick and I wanted to call but I didn’t have your number,” he began to explain in a voice that was even gentler than what you were used to. Even the yellow of his eyes seemed to dull significantly, how could you stay mad at someone in that state. To be honest, he could have shown up at your doorstep in peak condition and no excuse, and you’d probably still forgive him. For the longest time whether you were together or apart you had the softest spot for Yunho, even with the greatest determination once you looked into those golden eyes your heart would surely falter.

“You should probably come in, it’s getting pretty chilly these days,” you smiled up at him before further opening the door allowing him inside. Closing the door you sat on the couch and patted the spot beside you expectantly. Yunho taking that as his cue quickly filled in the empty space next to you engulfing your body in his warmth. You had quickly become used to having him next to you so much that his absence for those few days had you feeling incredibly cold. “I really am sorry Y/n, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he explained as he placed his head on your shoulder nuzzling into your neck.

Placing your hand at the nape of his neck you were about to comfort him about the situation; since he seemed to be beating himself up quite a bit. However, before you could otter a word you could feel his grip on you tightening slightly.

“Y/n” you heard him say no louder than a whisper, his voice deeper than you were used to, “Whose jacket is this?” Referring to the green jacket which was placed on the couch.

“Oh, that’s Mingi’s he forgot it in my car-,” you began but before you could finish you felt a sharp pain at your collar bone followed by the soothing sensation of his warm tongue gliding over your bruised skin. You could feel it caressing your skin so tenderly that goosebumps began to form all over your body. “Yunho,” you whimpered in his arms while struggling to escape his grasp.

“I don’t like it. Why are you spending time with other hybrids when you already have me?” he calmly stated, punctuating each word with gentle kisses running along your throat. “I’ve only just found you, I’m not letting another hybrid take you away from me. You’re mine and I’m yours” he continued on while tightening his grip on you even more. His body pressed firmly to yours as he continued to nip on the tender skin of your neck.

The area began to burn with the most pleasant of pains, your body aching in the best way imaginable. But you knew that you couldn’t stay like that otherwise he would just continue to misunderstand you. “Yunho could you just listen-,” you tried to reason with him as best as you could even though you could hear your voice falter as his lips reached your collarbone. This was the second time he had done this and as pleasurable as it is also beginning to get tiring.

You kept on telling yourself that this was bad no matter how good he made you feel. You couldn’t deny that you could easily become addicted to the sensation of his body on yours; completely trapping you in its warmth. But you couldn’t just let him do as he pleased. It’s true that hybrids have a more difficult time controlling their emotions but this is not an excuse. He couldn’t just continue to act on impulse every time his emotions get too strong. It gets easier with time and a hybrid of Yunho’s age should already be adequately good at it.

But I guess that’s the difference between Yunho and other hybrids his age, they were probably trained better than Yunho. He lived his younger years on the street so there is a possibility that he still hasn’t perfected self-control. He was like a puppy in an adult dog’s body; succumbing to every urge that comes his way. Gathering your thoughts you took a deep breath before speaking. “Yunho sit,” you said in a stern voice, much more than you ever thought you could muster up. You felt his body become rigid against yours but he made no actions to remove himself from you. “Yunho sit!” you said with a little more force; your eyes piercing into his. You heard him whimper before he peeled himself away from you to have a seat. You had expected him to return to his previous spot beside you but he didn’t. Yunho opted to sit on his heels at the base of the couch; right where your feet had lain. His head hung low as his palms gently rested on his knees.

Seeing the sight before you left you struggling to remain seated, he looked so ductile, so obedient and something about it made you feel so hot. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes and you loved it, although you had been the one to stop his previous advances it was almost as though you were at the mercies of your instinct, you wanted nothing more than to completely devour him. You took a deep breath in the futile attempt to gather your thoughts before speaking to him, he’d probably let you.

“Yunho I let your behavior slide twice before, but at this point, I’m beginning to think that you want to be scolded by me,” you stated while coking your eyebrow up. “No I don’t I’m sorry,” you heard him mumble towards the floor. Placing your hand on his cheek you felt the way his body shivered at your touch. “Puppy shouldn’t you look at me when I’m talking to you,” you whispered your face only a few inches from his. You could clearly see his lips quivering as you took in the strained features of his face.

“You’re right I’m sorry,” he whimpered, his fists clenched against his jeans. “And exactly what is my puppy sorry for?” you inquired, your lip twisted up in a slight smirk. It amused you; someone so much smaller than him, could have so much power over him, just the thought had you shivering in your seat.

“I’m sorry for attacking you and for not coming to see you,” he stated, his pleading eyes drowning in your own. “And what was the reason that my dear puppy couldn’t come see his owner?” you continued on loving the pure look of ecstasy on his face when you referred to yourself as his owner. His knuckles tightened as his body began to tremble, clearly holding itself back from the pleasure that was clearly bubbling inside of him. “I was sick,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Oh were you now?” you edged on, your pointer finger gliding across his adam’s apple. “Please,” he whimpered before he began to hunch forward in an attempt to ease the pressure building up at his crotch. “You say that you’re sorry but apparently that doesn’t apply to all of you,” you confessed before gently placing your foot on his crutch. The sound that he released was probably the most beautiful you’ve ever heard; it almost made you want to end your teasing, almost.

Removing your foot from his crutch you stare in awe at the thin thread of clear liquid which connected your toes to the ever-growing bulge in his pants. “For someone who is soo sorry you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit,” you stated as you wiggled your toes, almost playing in the precum coating them. From your seat above him, you could see him frantically shaking his head as he rocked in place on the floor beneath you. “Oh, so you’re not,” you inquired as you brought your face on the same level before you continued, “then maybe you should start answering me honestly? There is no need to be this stubborn with me”.

“I was in heat,” he replied; his head hung low as his ears began to redden. “So my puppy left me worried and alone cause you couldn’t keep it in his pants? Seeing the state that you’re in I can’t say that I’m surprised,” you replied, your eyes never once leaving his quivering body. Leaning back into your seat you took one final glance at him before speaking, “Take it off.” You could hear him release a sigh before reaching for his shirt. “No,” you interrupted him mid-action, “just your bottoms.” With crosswinds coming in so quickly Yunho was dressed in a caramel-colored knitted turtleneck and a pair of black jeans. You didn’t think that turtle necks could turn you on to this extent, just the thought of Yunho wearing turtle necks to hide the marks that you’ve left on his neck got a fire burning deep into your core.

You were so lost in your thoughts that the only thing pulling you away was the load, animalistic groan which escaped the hybrid’s lips as he slowly touched himself. His nimble fingers teasing the tip of his erect cock, urging it to release even more precum than it already was. The clear liquid flowed from the tip of his reddened cock down his hand, coating it in the perverse liquid. “I don’t remember telling you that you could touch yourself now did I puppy,” you stated watching as he briskly removed his hand from his aching cock; wincing as the cold breeze caressed it. “Do you want me to touch you?” you inquired.

“I do,” he began; his breathing short and strained, “but I’ve been bad.”

“That’s true but that doesn’t mean that my puppy doesn’t deserve to be cared for now does it?” you rhetorically asked.

Finally leaving your place on the couch you crept beside him, grasping his dick in your much smaller hand, your mouth watering at the sight. Almost immediately you could feel Yunho bucking his hips upward, chasing his much-desired release with great intensity. Taking your free hand you gripped his hip harshly, your nails grazing along his side. Yunho moaned at the pain, his body shivering as his head dropped to rest on your shoulder. “Stay still for me okay baby,” you whispered, your breath tickling his ear. Continuing at a rather snow pace you ran your hand along Yunho’s engorged dick, tracing its veins with your fingers and watching as his entire body twitched in response. You could feel him leaving tentative kisses along your shoulder but you didn’t stop him this time, he was finally being good so he deserved a little treat. Right?

You tightened your grip as you continued to pleasure him, enjoying the sweet sounds of his moans in your ear; you could listen to it all day but that might actually break him and you couldn’t do that to your puppy. “Close, I’m close. Please can I come,” he begged into your shoulder as his hands caressed your sides ever so slightly; the searing heat radiating from his entire body paled in comparison the that of his pulsating dick. He looked as though he was ready to burst but resisting until you gave him the go-ahead trying with the utmost desperation to be good for you. Should you allow him to release or should you let that pressure build up inside of him just a little longer to see how long he could fight against his instinct?

Your thought process was interrupted by your phone ringing on the couch cushion behind you, you weren’t all that interested to answer but you had an idea of who it might be so you decided to play with your puppy just a little longer. “Yunho could you grab my phone for me please,” you asked, your free hand caressing his back to get his attention. Looking at his face caused shivers to run through your spine; it was nothing like you’ve ever felt before, your body was screaming with pure ecstasy. His face was flushed pink and glistening with perspiration, his teary, yellow eyes were almost engulfed by his dilated pupils and only heavy breathing could be heard from his swollen lips. Yunho was always irresistible in your eyes but seeing him in this state; he looked absolutely delectable.

You had expected him to put up some sort of resistance but he didn’t, he simply stretched forward; groaning at the new angle in which you were holding his dick, and grabbed your phone. “Who’s calling?” you inquired, already having a decent idea of who it is. From the growl that escaped Yunho’s lips, you already knew that you were right but you still wanted to hear him say it. You didn’t say a word to him you simply stopped the movement of your hand and looked at him, your eyes boring into his in an attempt to deduce his next move. Was he really that against you talking to Mingi? Or was it just because of the timing of the call? “Mingi,” he whispered before handing me the phone. Taking it from his hand you could see Yunho attempt to fix his clothes. “Stay,” you simply said to him before answering the still ringing phone.

To be quite honest you weren’t really paying any mind to what Mingi was saying; your senses focused on the whimpering hybrid beside you. You had already begun caressing his dick once more while still being on the phone with Mingi, you didn’t mind too much if Mingi found out what you were doing but Yunho on the other hand tried his absolute best to keep his noises at bay. This continued on for a few more minutes as you tried your best to keep Mingi on the phone, testing how long Yunho could hold out. Quickening your pace on his ever-flowing dick you could see Yunho convolve as he clung unto you, his teeth threatening to tear through his lush lips. He was almost at his breaking point.

“Mingi could you just hold on please my friend is calling the apartment phone,” you lied, “oh no you don’t need to hang up it will only take a minute.” Placing your phone against your shoulder; but not really attempting to muffle any sound, you turned to Yunho, “Are you coming today or not?” you enquired in the best nonchalant voice you could muster up. To Mingi it would just seem as though you had a friend over but Yunho knew better, his needy pants and muffled whimpers understood all too well. Looking up at you he nodded his head frantically before burying his face into your shoulder once more in a desperate attempt to muffle his sounds. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, if he was asked to his entire body would have surely combusted right there and then.

“Okay then hurry up,” you replied before returning to your phone call. “Yeah I’m gonna watch a movie with a friend in a bit, you should come next-,” you continued your conversation until you felt a sharp pain on your neck causing you to yelp, followed by a splash of liquid landing on your hand. “Are you okay?” you heard Mingi ask. “Yeah I’m fine I just bumped my toe,” you explained with a slight laugh trying your best to calm your breathing. “Well that’s good then,” he continued, “but please be careful else you’ll make me worry.”

“You don’t need to though, I already have someone like that and he’ll be here soon so I should go,” you stated before saying your goodbyes. You could sense a slight opposition from Mingi on the phone but that didn’t bother you much cause you had someone else to worry about. You look one last look at the quivering hybrid who had collapsed on your living room floor before you stood up.

Rushing to the restroom you began filling the bathtub before retrieving a damp cloth and heading back to the exhausted hybrid in your living room. After cleaning up most of the mess you told Yunho that he needed to take a bath which resulted in him releasing a groan before attempting to get up. Standing beside him you watched as his legs shook releasing a small giggle at the sight. “Shut up,” he said with a slight pout on his lips. “I really did a number on you didn’t I,” you continued.

“Please stop talking,” he groaned as he slowly made his way to your restroom. “Are you going to make me?” you pushed on loving the personality gap that he was displaying. You loved how he went from a whimpering mess to the playful yet slightly defiant Yunho that he currently is. You felt his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to him until your bodies were connected. “Do you want me to?” he inquired, his golden eyes searching yours. “Huh?” was the only thing that could leave your mouth, unbelievable, even after all that you’ve just done to him he can still reduce you to a deer in the headlights that simplicity? “I’m yours,” he whispered just softly enough for you both to hear; like it was a precious secret only to be shared between you too, “I’d do anything you want me to. Whatever you want from me I’ll give it to you.”

#ateez #ateez au #ateez hybrid au #hybrid au #ateez fanfic #ateez hybrid fanfic #ateez hybrid #ateez smut #ateez fluff #yunho hybrid #yunho fanfic #jeong yunho #jeong yunho fanfic #gender neutral reader #I honestly dont know what else lol I havent done this in a while

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left, boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school, taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts au #hoseok au #bts smut #hoseok smut

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post-nuclear-sweetheart · 4 years ago

Text

Tranquille Moments In Chaos (1)

The start of several moments that fill in the gaps of developing a friendship, then relationship, with Hancock.

Hancock x reader/sole.

Find it on ao3 as well!

(1853 words)

“Come with me.”

You had begun to question your sanity before the words fully escaped your lips. You leaned against the wall of the State House in Hancock’s disorganized bedroom, attempting your best not to look like a complete mess inside.

You saw how his blackened, clouded eyes looked you up and down. It was casual, and it reminded you of how the “cool kids” - you deemed them - would look through your flimsy persona back in high school. His dry and malformed lips stretched into a grin, and you could see amusement play across his face.

Hancock let out a short, breathy chuckle, before reaching into his back pocket of his trousers for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. “So lemme get this straight,” he started as if you were merely having a casual conversation. He pulled out his lighter from his other pocket, leaving you hanging off his words, until he lit up the cigarette and took the first drag.

“This is your… what, second week? Roamin’ around the Commonwealth like a stray dog?” That amused look slowly turned into a scrutinizing smirk. “Fahrenheit told me all about how you turned on Bobby. Can’t even hold a gun without the recoil throwin’ your arms all over - and you wanna run with me?”

The heat of embarrassment crept up to your face. True, you still weren’t terribly handy with a gun, despite your ex-spouse having military experience, but you made plenty sure they kept that sort of violence outside the house, what with the arrival of your newborn. Oh, how you would come to regret that rule.

But if there was one thing you were good at, that you honed over your college years, was how to fake confidence. You steeled yourself and pushed off the wall, standing your not-so-tall stance against Hancock. Sure, your cheeks were still very red, but you fronted a coy smile and a raised brow.

“I dunno, Hancock. You said it yourself - you’re soft. I may have been out here for a few weeks, but you’ve been lounging around longer than I’ve been surviving. Are you sure you can run with me?”

You stared into his dark eyes, appearing so sure of yourself. You began to falter inside, however, when his playfully degrading look turned to one that was serious. He took another painfully slow drag, starring you down all the while, then blew a puff of smoke into your face. You suppressed your cough, but the tears from the stinging smoke escaped.

Hancock chuckled darkly. “I can admire a babe willing to stand up to the man. Alright, hot stuff. I’ll tag along and maybe give you a few pointers.” He winked at you then, deciding he was done with his half-burnt cigarette, tossed it down and squished it out with the heel of his boot.

“First I gotta address the people; give ‘em a big mayoral speech. Don’t wait up.” He pressed the tip of his tricorn hat down, as a way to physically show he was switching over to his “business side”, and disappeared through the white door next to the wall you had leaned next to.

You released a sigh. There was no way you could keep up that air of confidence for long, especially around the man who radiates pure confidence. Pair that up with his natural ability to remain cool and keep it all from going to his head, and you looked like a nervous teenager on the first day of work next to him.

You heard the guards that stood outside the door to his bedroom snicker. You didn’t blame them. There was one thing that made you feel a little better about devolving into a mental puddle around Hancock. Irma had told you all about how he used to be a major hit with the ladies, and sometimes the gentlemen, and it wasn’t unusual when a person or two would fall at his feet. Of course, this was all before he turned into a ghoul, and yet…

Something tells you his ghoulification only amplified his charm.

He made good on his promise, even if it was made in jest. In your days wandering with this alluring ghoul at your back, he had taught you how to properly hold your 10 mm gun, and when you felt ready for rifles, he taught you how hard to press the stock against your shoulder and how to safely handle them. Although seeming to be intimately familiar with most common place guns, he himself preferred the ol’ reliable shotgun.

You’ve also come to be acquainted with his way of life and his morals. He lived up to his self-proclaimed title of “freedom fighter” with his rebel-rousing, tough guy nature who kept an eye out for the little man. He tried telling you after he shanked Finn to death, but you didn’t quite believe it then. A mayor, fronting as a freedom fighter? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until one dark day with a downpour to rival a waterfall that would change your mind.

After one particularly bad firefight, you both found shelter in a half-dilapidated, vacant home. You had a friend in this neighborhood many years ago, although he moved away to another town to attend high school.

You sat on a dust covered cushion near a fairly in-tact windowsill, watching languidly as the rain fell heavy. One leg was tucked under you, while you stretched the other so that Hancock could remove the bullet deeply embedded in your thigh. You didn’t feel much of his makeshift surgery, what with the drug concoction he fed you. You were more entranced by the rainfall, and how the droplets pattered on the crumbling road not far from the house. The only light you had to serve was the half burned candles from the last squatter at the residence; five waxy candles that illuminated a warm, flickering orange against the cold darkness of the rest of the house.

“Hancock?” You quietly called for him, never moving your stare from the outside world. He hummed in response.

“Did you-“ you paused yourself. Your drug-filled mind struggled to figure out how to word your question. “Were you… Did you grow up here, before the war?”

Although the pain was completely numbed, you did feel an intense pressure from his work. You felt that pressure stop momentarily, before starting again.

You heard Hancock let out a scoff. It didn’t sound rude, but baffled. “What makes you think I’m one of those pre-war ghouls?”

“You’re a ghoul.”

Hancock laughed quietly. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m in my thirties?”

“Thirties?” You lulled your head, rolling lazily on your shoulders to face Hancock. Your vision was blurred by the pain killers, but still you could see the deep ravines in his skin. His eyes appeared exceptionally black, and where his nose rotted off long ago appeared darker. At the sight of what would have frightened you 200 some years ago, you smiled. “You look amazing for your thirties.”

“You should’a seen me before.” He looked up to wink at you, before reaching for a roll of bandages he kept hidden away in his coat pocket. “Drugs are a hell of a… drug.”

“Drugs can make you a ghoul?”

“Not just any drugs. This stuff,” he blew air from between his recessed lips as his mind dove back into his memories. “they didn’t even have a name for this stuff. Picture it - a vial of this scary glowing liquid that promised to give you a high that was outta this world. And get this, there was only one more hit of it left. You know what I did, doll?”

There was something so charming, so endearing, about the way he spoke. It was old school, but his rumbling voice, no doubt caused by their decay via radiation, kept you enraptured. Your smile grew more silly and enamoured. “What did you do, Hancock?”

“I shot it up.” He began to wrap the bandages around your thigh. “Lemme tell you, there’s nothing else in this whole damn world that’ll make you see - no, feel - the things I did. Everything else pales in comparison.” He tied them off with a yank, and gave your leg a light pat before continuing his story. “‘Course, it came with a price. That price is this gorgeous mug you see before you.”

You giggled at his display of gesturing to himself and giving you an exaggerated smoulder. He shifted over to the cushion that was beside the one you sat on and took his place beside you. You came to an agreement to wait, guns ready, for the rain to pass before moving on. Hancock leaned his back against the wall from where he sat, and in your drugged-up haze, you slumped over against him.

“Good Neighbour didn’t mind a ghoul for a mayor?” You asked, unaware of how your line of questioning came across. Still, Hancock answered freely.

“I wasn’t a ghoul yet.”

“How did you become mayor?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

Seeing no harm in telling you, Hancock regaled you in the bigotry of Diamond City, and the reign of terror Vic held over Good Neighbour. He told you, laughing through it as he explained how the red coat of John Hancock could speak to him, and with the courage of drugs and a take-no-bullshit attitude on his side, he and a group of fed up people stormed the town hall. He went into gruesome detail of gunning down Vic’s men, and how they tied a noose around Vic’s neck and hung him over the same balcony Hancock would give his speeches. It was then, with unanimous decision, that John Hancock became mayor of Good Neighbour. It stayed a safe haven for everyone Diamond City rejected, and the rest was history.

It was then, as you stared up at Hancock with a mixed look of disbelief and admiration, that you truly believed he was, and is, a freedom fighter.

“And you traded a life of gunning bad people down for office work?” You nudged him playfully.

“Hey, I can do both, can’t I? Good Neighbour’s full of good people. They can fend for themselves while their fearless mayor cuts his teeth on some raiders.”

You attempted to nod in agreement, but found your head heavy and comfortable against his shoulder. You let out a yawn, the last thing you remembered, before the haziness you felt finally took over your senses and dragged you to sleep.

Hancock glanced your way and lightly chuckled at your slumbering form. He gently moved your wrist in your lap to peek at the time on your Pip-Boy. It was getting well into the evening, but still it was early enough that raiders and gangsters didn’t roam quite yet.

He reached up to tip his hat down over his eyes and slouched against the wall. There was a long night ahead of you both, and if there ever was a time to nap, a dark rainy evening was certainly it.

“Sweet dreams, vault dweller.”

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sinsbymanka · 4 years ago

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Hello! I uh. Got so many Fenders prompts guys. Like. A lot.

I combined three of them because I really wanted to try this ship and I really liked writing it a lot. I hope I did them justice! Thank you to @dalish-rogue, @morganlefaye79, and @wardenari for the prompts! This is for @dadrunkwriting!

Title: Not What Was Intended Ship: Anders/Fenris Rating: T Word Count: 1561 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crimes & Criminals, Bathing/Washing, Sharing a Bed, Bickering, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Fenris doesn't mean to go to the clinic. But when he sees the windows smashed in, he has to check it out. He is not doing it for himself, he is doing it for Hawke. It's a good lie. Almost believable.

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Fenris does not mean to stroll past the clinic.

It is nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgement. He is too used to walking these darkened streets so the chain link fences, the broken street lamps, they all weave a background tapestry he hardly notices. His feet drag him onwards down the path he usually walks with Hawke, despite the fact that Hawke is not with him.

Fenris could have gone home. Instead he turns the corner to find the clinic’s windows smashed, broken glass littering the cracked sidewalk. Fluorescent lights flicker inside, although whether the bulbs themselves are finally reaching the end of their life or Anders has not paid the bill again, Fenris can’t say.

He hesitates a moment, his contraband ammunition heavy against his chest where he tucked it inside his coat. If he is caught with it, the papers Varric somehow obtained will be useless. He’ll be back in Tevinter before he can blink, and for all Fenris knows Anders is about to be dragged out by the Templars kicking and screaming, blonde hair falling wildly about his face, eyes crackling…

That image forces him into movement. He ducks quietly through the ajar door, suspicious eyes darting into every corner. He tells himself he is there for Hawke, for Varric, for all those who for some reason believe the meddlesome doctor and his idealistic opinions are worth the wrath of the rich and powerful.

Fenris almost convinces himself. It is a good lie. One Varric himself would approve of.

But the truth shrivels it the moment Fenris slips past the abandoned reception desk and into the triage area. Because standing in the middle of the room is Anders, surrounded by debris and refuse.

Something loosens in Fenris’ chest immediately. He crosses the wreckage of the clinic easily, voice dropping to a low growl. “What have you done?”

Anders finally lifts his gaze from the trash littering the floor. Fenris expects a flash of irritation, a scowl to match his own, but it does not come. Instead Anders rubs his stubbled jaw and shakes his head.

“Just what I needed. A lecture. Andraste’s pillowy tits. Could this day get any worse?”

There’s a bitter thread of hurt in his voice that makes Fenris uneasy. He does not pull his gaze from Anders, jerking his chin to the destruction surrounding them. “You were raided?”

“I wish,” Anders snorts. “I expect the Templars to fuck me over cause of what I’m doing. Who I’m helping.”

“Varric pays the Coterie. And the Carta. This was not them.”

“I’ve told him to stop but you know how he is.” Anders puffs out his chest in mockery. “Me? Annoyingly taking care of your problems? I’d never do something so blighted risky and-”

Anders bends down, stumbling to stop in his impression as he picks up a long, ruined piece of unravelled gauze. He sighs hopelessly as he looks at it before he shakes his head and lets it drop in defeat.

“You’re right, you know.” Anders looks up, a bitter grin twisting his lips into something monstrous and out of place on his warm features. Something that brings the dread from when he saw the broken windows back tenfold. “I’m down here risking all our asses and for what?”

“Justice and the greater good, or so I’ve been told,” Fenris replies dryly.

“So a bunch of kids whose bullet wounds I stitched up last week, no Templars involved, could come back and steal thousands of dollars worth of medical supplies and ruin even more. All while I was out doing home visits for a solid thirty hours.”

Anders closes his eyes, agony breaking over his features, making him look three times his age. “Maker. I’ll never recover from this.”

The statement rings too loudly in the heavy silence. It stretches on and Fenris waits for the other man to crack a flippant joke, but it doesn’t come. It is up to Fenris to fill it as best he can.

“This is unnecessarily dramatic,” he sniffs. “Hawke will gladly resupply you.”

“I’m not living on Hawke’s charity,” Anders snaps.

“Then you’ll live on Varric’s. How long have you been awake?”

Anders finally shows some sign of his own temper, straightening up. “Sorry, should I call you daddy or-”

“Fasta vass, you are impossible.” Fenris surges forward and grabs Anders by the cuff of his coat. The other man is so dizzy from exhaustion it takes almost none of his strength to drag him from the triage area deep into the clinic.

Fenris himself has been stitched up in this location enough times to know it like the tattoos in his skin. He shoves Anders toward the showers with a growl. “You smell of disease and stale sweat. I will secure the clinic.”

“You say the nicest-”

Fenris slams the door shut behind the other man and turns grimly to the clinic to survey the damage. He doesn’t bother with the ruined supplies or the evidence of the ransacking. Instead, he begins the slow, methodical business of checking the exits. Securing the bolts. The windows are, of course, a problem. He drags clean sheets from the cupboards and pins them in place to keep out the wind and cold, but Anders needs new windows.

And perhaps an alarm system. Or a dog instead of the fifty stray cats that linger in the alley.

When he’s done what he can, he makes his way back to the bathroom. The water is running and Fenris thinks only to pop his head in and announce that he will return with boards for the windows.

He’s stopped short, once more, by the sight of Anders. No longer standing, but curled into the corner of the shower. Knobbly knees are pulled to his chest, sandy hair plastered to his skin. His shoulders shake with silent sobs.

Fenris should leave.

Yet again, he doesn’t.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and slips his coat from his shoulders. By the time Anders looks up, blinking water from his eyes, Fenris is laying it and his illegal purchases on the counter.

“What are you-”

“You are clearly incapable of taking care of yourself.” Fenis lifts the hem of his cotton shirt over his head, not daring to meet Anders eyes. He knows the other man is tracing the elaborate designs, a brutal reminder of his life before, and he doesn’t wish to see it. “If you drown in your own shower, I will have to explain it to Hawke.”

Anders’ silence is more maddening than his constant babble. Fenris braces himself to turn, only to find that instead of staring at him, Anders is gloomily examining the grout in the shower.

“I know you think I’m pathetic.”

Fenris climbs carefully into the shower and grabs one tiny bottle of expired shampoo donated from a cheap motel and a limp sponge. “I have never said that is the case.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do not have to justify things I have never said.”

Fenris squirts the sickly sweet shampoo on the sponge and rubs it between his fingers. Anders’ eyes latch onto the movement quietly. Fenris thinks his words over before he turns to Anders.

“I am envious of your desire to help others. I believe that is a part of me that is gone.”

It had been ruined, as so many things had. Before he can think too much about his past or about the pale freckled skin slicked with water, he brings the sponge to Anders’ chest and swipes it over his collarbone.

The motion is soothing. Dull. Repetitive. Soap beads on his skin and falls to the drain. Anders is silent, the only noise the lukewarm water streaming from above and the sound of their quiet breaths.

“They should not have abused your kindness,” Fenris finally says, flicking his eyes up to meet Anders’.

A moment of silence, fragile as the soap bubbles. Fenris takes hold of Anders’ thin, lithe arms and hauls him to his feet. He tries not to think of the way the other man sways on his feet, the brush of their chest together. He carefully does not look at the golden hair decorating his chest or the taut muscles beneath his skin.

Fenris tries not to hear the soft whisper against his ear as he drags the sponge down Anders’ stomach.

“They shouldn’t have abused yours.”

Everything passes in a blur. He does not remember how he finishes washing Anders, only the brief tantalizing flashes of skin and warmth that are seared into his memory. But the other man is almost limp with exhaustion as Fenris drags him to a cot.

Anders trips into it, taking Fenris with him. He curses under his breath and Anders chuckles, warm and real and so much better than the heartbroken man he found.

“You can’t stay here,” Anders murmurs sleepily, lips twitching in amusement.

“I have no wish to,” Fenris hisses between his teeth.

The cot is soft, just barely big enough for both of them, and his arm is trapped beneath a man who is rapidly letting exhaustion overtake him. Fenris means only to rest there until he can free himself without waking him.

He does not mean to fall asleep beside him, arm over his waist, face pressed into his shoulder.

Yet he does.

#manka writes #dadrunkwriting #anders showers bring mage flowers #fenris #anders #fenders #anders/fenris #fenris/anders #dragon age #dragon age 2 #alternate universe #modern

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sanders-sides-dnd · 4 years ago

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Family Reunion Chapter 1

Here it is! The beginning of our adventures. I’m sorry this took so long. This was the first session of the first game we played together, everything the characters do was the choice of their players. This includes the romance, I later worked their pairings into their backstories to add some clarity. If you have any questions for us or the characters our askbox is open. Wordcount: 5048 TWs: Kidnapping, swearing, violence, implied child death, implied child abuse, ghosts, hunting, dog Pairings: Logince, Moceit Taglist (ask to be added): @crazydemigod666 @newtnotfound @star-crossed-shipper @3amthebitchinghour @s4moose

The group woke up and felt a tight rope tying them all together. They looked around the darkness and most were able to identify they were in a cell, they also saw Prince Roman sitting outside the cell. He softly stroked Kai, the paladin Patton the Moral’s hound. Roman didn’t notice his friends had woken. Logan, a human wizard and partner of Prince Roman, recognised the cell. They were in the castle of Creativiton which explained why Roman was not locked up. His parents wouldn’t lock up their heir. But why were they locked up? Logan was the first to try and get Roman’s attention.

“Why are we here?” Logan asked. Roman’s black eyes lit up when his partner spoke. “What happened?” The group all looked at Roman. Kai stuck his head through the bars to try and get to his owner. Roman felt guilty, this was all his fault. He remembered what had happened. They were happily walking through the forest, unaware how close they strayed to Roman’s kingdom. They were ambushed by familiar guards, his mothers personal battalion, they knocked out his friends before they could even fight. They were all tied up and brought back to the castle. He was separated from his friends and brought to his less than pleased parents who promptly banished him to his room to wait, however he clearly didn’t stay there long. “Are you all okay?” Roman asked full of concern. “We were ambushed on our journey.” The half-orc answered as he slid a cup of water through the bars towards his friends. Patton, being only a few feet tall, easily slid out of the ropes and inspected the water. “My parents are… displeased we left. They wished to speak to all of us, I was waiting for you all to wake up.” Patton brought the water to Logan to inspect, he was much smarter after all. Logan nodded and took a sip, Patton followed hesitantly. Janus the deceiver, Patton’s partner, a wicked tiefling warlock, smirked and took a drink not worried if it was poisoned or not. Virgil drank too and Patton returned the cup. “Why are we in a cell?” Patton asked as he handed the cup over. “Couldn’t they have spoken to us over dinner or something not… this?” Virgil, the rogue elf, piped up. Roman looked away guiltily. Patton moved to pet his hound. “I think they’re just angry we left the castle. Although I agree, locking you up is a bit drastic.” Roman sympathised. Janus scoffed. “And tying us up is just for safety.” Janus remarked, snarky as always. “Right, totally believable.” Janus never trusted royals, the only reason he could get along with Roman is because they met away from the castle. Roman paused for a moment. “We’ve been here a few hours and I haven’t seen Remus yet.” Roman said solemnly. Prince Remus or, as he preferred, Duke Remus was not the kind to be quiet. Especially after his brother who has been gone for so long came back. Virgil knew this was weird too, he was a close friend to Remus. Well, until he abandoned him that is. Roman shook his head and got back to business. “I could break you out of here and we can leave. Or we could stay and talk to my parents… although I am starting to think fleeing might be our best move. What do you think we should do?” Roman nervously eyed a nearby guard, trying his best to stay out of sight. Virgil asked what everyone was thinking. “Did you know your parents were going to do this?” Virgil pressed. “Of course not, I have no idea why they would lock you up!” Roman defended. “You know your parents best. Do you think talking to them would work?” Virgil asked. He already knew from what he’d heard from the twins that the Queen definitely wasn’t the talking it out type but perhaps the king was? Logan spoke up after a bit of contemplation, working at the castle meant he had a good array of knowledge to help make a decision. “If Duke Remus is missing then something suspicious is going on. I vote we flee while we have the chance.” Logan concluded. “I’m sure they have a reason to want to talk! Even if they weren’t the best to their guests...” Patton opposed. He always saw the best in people, it’s what he was taught in the temple he grew up in, even when it got him in trouble. "I say we get out now and then we'll see." Janus said. He was Patton’s grounding force, bringing him back from his dream lands and reminding him of the harsh reality. “They were in a foul mood when I spoke to them earlier, I vote we get out of here.” Roman informed. "If we escape do you think your parents will send people after us?" Virgil questioned. Roman thought for a moment before replying. "Most likely, but what other choices do we have?" Roman finally replied. "What if they just kidnap us again?" "Then we'll get out again." Janus announced. Virgil knew how to do that, he’d been in these jails many times. Logan grew agitated, they needed to make a decision quickly. "We do not have time to worry about that, we must be focused on getting out for the time being!" Logan reminded them all. "The best we can do now is to get as far away as possible, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Roman added. With a nod Virgil and Patton finally gave in. Virgil quickly got to work. With his hands behind his back he quickly found the knot keeping the men together, the knot was tough but Virgil was an expert. In mere seconds the rope slacked and the men were free. Virgil knew the key to a successful escape was speed so he wasted no time beginning to pick the lock. Roman looked at the guard, he was still unaware. The bars opened with a quiet squeak. “Where to now?” Virgil whispered as they all exited the cell. They had no gear, no weapons, they weren’t in the best position. Roman remembered all the times Remus and he had snuck around the castle, trying to think of an exit. "I can lead us out of here, but we'd have to go through the main halls. There's a high chance we could be spotted." Roman whispered. "Damn, no secret passageways?" Virgil retorted with a smirk. In all his years here he had never found any but then again he wasn’t a royal. "None that I can think of right now, and none that won't be monitored by my father's men." Roman informed as the group started sneaking. “They wouldn't expect us to go through the main halls, out in the open. It's our best chance of escape." Roman looked around the corner, it seemed clear. The men kept low and ran quietly, Roman took care looking around every corner to watch for guards. Eventually they made it to sight of the door, but as Roman looked around the corner he saw the shins of a familiar human. He looked up to see the black armour his mothers battalion wore, the same colour as the man’s hair and stubble. His helmet was off so Roman could clearly see his grey eyes looking down at him. “Ah Roman, how predictable.” Remy teased as Roman rose in shame. "Remy, " Roman said grimly. "Let us pass, my friends and I have done no wrong." Without a word, guards seized the group and brought them to the throne room. Roman was set at the front of the group with the others slightly behind. They stayed silent as two royals stepped out. A tall and stocky orc woman with brown dreaded hair and a lean human warrior in a golden crown on his silver hair. The king and queen stood on a dais with one throne, looking down at their son and his party.

“Ah Roman I see your companions are awake.” The king sung. The king was a professional man, even Roman had never heard his name. He had always called him Dad or Your Majesty. This didn’t mean he was a stick in the mud, he was a happy man just a stickler for titles. “Welcome to Creativiton!” Queen Bhom Head-Crusher greeted, knowing well some of the group had been here before. The Queen was a true blood orc, married into human society. Steel and war ran through her veins. She was caring but violent and bull-headed. “Salutations.” Logan said with a controlled glare. “Pleasure.” Janus followed with a scoff. Patton tried to bow and Virgil tried not to barf. “It’s been a while since I had you in chains, Virgil.” Remy chuckled. "Can't get enough of me in chains?" Virgil shot back. “What is the meaning of this?” Roman cried, outraged at the treatment of him and his friends. They had been knocked and locked and now, just as they had a taste of freedom, chained. Queen Bhom looked across the group then let her eyes land on Roman. “When you left your brother was quite upset that you didn’t ask him to join you. He felt as if you didn’t care about him anymore. He was sad for a while but then it turned into anger.” She explained. Roman felt guilt begin to scratch at his stomach. “He wanted to find you and make you explain yourself. So he left, without telling us.” The Queen’s black eyes grew sad, but her face did not waver from it’s strong expression. "Is that all?” Janus announced. All eyes turned to him. “Hardly seems a reason to put us in chains and a cell." Janus didn’t let royals hold power over him, he had once and it ended with blood on his face and a demon in his mind. “Well, street rat, we can’t have both of our heirs just off running around in forests. We need at least one of you here or our reputation will be destroyed.” The King reasoned. He looked directly at Roman. “So we're grounding you until your brother comes back and we can sort this out together. Your friends must stand trial for treason and kidnapping but if they leave without causing trouble then I won’t stop them.” Roman blinks, momentarily thrown off guard. "He's never shown interest in fighting with us before, I didn't think this time was any different, so I didn't ask." Roman mumbled. This wasn’t like his brother. Yes he was wild and unpredictable, and he hated the castle, okay maybe it was like him. "Not to be rude, your majesty, but how is it our fault if Duke Remus felt a certain way and did certain actions? Those were of his own volition." Logan asked. “And it’s not kidnapping if Roman came with us willingly.” Virgil added. Patton raised his hand. “Your highnesses?” He addressed incorrectly. “Some of us are not even from here. How can it be treason if we aren’t citizens?” Roman put out a hand to silence his friends. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. He could stand up to his parents one on one, but both of them together is a challenge. "Mother, Father, surely you see that this is unreasonable?” Roman began. “I went with my friends of my own volition, it was in no way a kidnapping. Let them go peacefully, and I swear to stay and do whatever it takes to locate my brother. He couldn't have gone far. Let me take responsibility for him, but let my friends leave." Roman’s plan to sacrifice himself did not sit well with his friends. However, his mother looked down proudly. “Well how about a trial by combat, an orc tradition.” Queen Bhom announced proudly. The king tapped her arm gently but she gave him a reassuring glance. “If you can find your brother and bring him back then it would be quicker and we won’t have to send more guards. It’ll also prove to us that you can go out and adventure with your companions without getting yourself killed.” The queen waited for a response. Roman looked back at his friends, they all gave him enthusiastic nods. Roman pulled himself to his full height. “I accept.” With a wave of her hand the guards escorted the group to the armoury where all their gear was laying on the ground. While everyone gathered their gear Virgil turned to Remy. “Don’t miss me too much.” Virgil flirted with a wink. Remy looked away, the faint blush on his face mostly covered by his stubble. The others kept a close eye on Virgil while they gathered their stuff. Roman thought it was a good idea to have the head guard on their side. Logan and Roman looked around at the other guards protectively. “Hurry up and get your stuff before I lock you up.” Remy said in a stressed tone. Virgil began collecting his stuff while looking back at Remy. “I’m sure you’ll be looking forward to that.” Virgil shot another wink. Remy looked away awkwardly. Virgil did too as he remembered the last time before this he was locked up, it wasn’t his most graceful encounter. Janus made a gagging noise and rolled his eyes.

When everyone had their stuff Remy escorted them out of the castle and slammed the large door behind them. The streets were narrow and the group walked in sets of two. Logan looked at Roman. “You know Remus the best, where is he likely to go?” Logan asked. “Tavern.” Virgil and Roman answered in unison. Roman continued. “He’s a fan of wandering around. He’s usually at the tavern but I’ve seen him around the inn, the blacksmith, and that old burned farm.” “There’s also a hunting store he likes to visit.” Virgil added. "Maybe we should try the tavern first," Roman mused. "He's probably passed out drunk under the counter." "With so many places, perhaps it would be wise to split up?" Logan suggested. They all agreed. Roman split from the group to go to the tavern, he didn’t find Remus but the bartender did tell him they hadn’t seen the duke in a week. Logan and Janus went to the inn, they hadn’t seen him at all. Patton brought his hound and found the blacksmith, he informed him that Remus had stopped by a month ago to get some weapons sharpened. Virgil took the hunting store where he found out Remus had bought a large sum of dried meat about a month ago.

The group met up again at the gates to share their findings as they headed out to the last place on their list. The burned down farm. The sky was a dim orange as the sun disappeared. "This is worrying, to say the least," Murmured Roman. He started to look visibly concerned about his brother. "Sharpening weapons, hoarding dry rations, sounds like he was planning to go away for a while." Logan put a hand on his partner's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He knew Remus and Roman were close, this had to be affecting him a lot. "Well we were gone for a while ourselves. It's a good thing he at least has anything with him at all.” Janus reasoned, but it only made Roman’s guilt grow. “Now what is the deal with this farm?” Roman and Virgil smirked at each other before leaping into a dramatic stance. “We don’t know a lot about the farm…” Roman began suspiciously. Logan knew this song and dance. “I heard a child who was just learning to control magic lived here with her family. One day she lost control and burned down the whole farm.” Virgil explained and Roman made an explosion sound behind him. Janus and Logan rolled their eyes but Patton was entranced. "The flames didn't touch anything on the other side of the fence, and they didn't touch her younger brother's things. The girl and her parents perished, her brother was never found." Roman finished with a flourish. Patton clapped. Roman turned around and saw a charred fence. They were here.

By this time it was dark, and the darkness only enhanced how creepy the house was. Under the full moon’s glow they inspected the burned walls. The house was a husk, not even the roof remained. However a small hay bed and some kids toys were alone, only touched by a thick layer of dust. They felt a cold presence around them. Janus lit a torch to help them see. “I feel like something doesn’t want us here...” Roman said as he lit up another torch. Logan inspected the toys without touching them, they had no ash on them. Just dirt and dust. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. Patton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Using his divine powers bestowed upon him after a lifetime of prayer, he could sense the presence of good and evil. He breathed deeply through his nose. He could smell the foul scent of an evil and greedy presence. It was so strong it nearly startled him. Virgil saw a flick of white in the corner of his eye but when he turned there was nothing here. "I don't like the vibes of this place. How about we just confirm that Remus isn't here and get the fuck out?" Virgil fretted. He did care about Remus, but this place seemed off. Janus saw what Patton was doing and put a hand on his shoulder. Patton nodded in response. “There’s something here.” Janus shouted to the group who was spread around the house. They all looked over. “What kind of something?” Logan asked. Janus enjoyed being vague but it annoyed Logan. Maybe that was part of why he enjoyed it. “Only one way to find out.” Janus smirked. He gave his torch to Patton and sat down. He began chanting in a language no one else could understand. “Venite Tenebrae Animae et Ostende te.” Three ghostly figures faded into view in front of him. One child and two adults. The child appeared in the corner, she looked to be hiding. The adults, a man and a woman, quickly turned on the party with a hiss. The group readied their weapons. Patton was first to attack as he grabbed his battle-axe in one hand and raised his shield with the other. He pulled back and swung his axe at the female ghost. It passed right through her. “Crap…” Patton let out before the ghost retaliated. She scratched his face with her long nails. It didn’t do much but it was enough that it pushed him back. Roman took out his great-sword and raised it above his head. The heavy steel blade and golden hilt caught the torch light. Roman was about to take a risk. But it didn’t seem like he could do much else. If Patton’s silver axes didn’t work then surely his sword wouldn’t do much more. "Don't come any closer!" He yelled with his booming orcish voice. "I am Prince Roman of Creativiton, and I command you to stay back!" When they were alive they clearly lived in Creativiton, perhaps not during Roman’s life but at some point. Perhaps they still had some loyalty. Roman’s risk paid off as the ghosts cowered, leaving them vulnerable. Janus took the opportunity. He took out his staff and held it horizontally in front of him. The staff was curved and made of light coloured apple wood. A python is etched into the wood circling to the top, the side of the staff where the head was. “Illusio.” He whispered to himself. He pointed the end of his staff towards the attacking ghosts and a wall of flames shot towards them. They were shocked and backed themselves against the wall, much more scared than Patton’s attack. The male ghost looked to his right to see the scared child. He grabbed her and held her out like a shield. “Janus, what can we do?” Virgil asked as he pulled out his daggers. Janus was their creature expert, there is nothing he hadn’t fought. “Healing items and magic.” Janus shouted back. Virgil put away his daggers. Those weren’t going to do squat. “Healing?” Virgil asked again. Janus rolled their eyes although it was hard to tell since they were pure gold. “They lose connection to the physical realm because of the healing properties.” Janus explained as the male ghost shook the child at them. Logan was the only other who knew spells. He pulled out his silver staff, the blue gems attached to the top already glowing. He pointed the staff at the female ghost, streaks of blue shot out. The ghost disappeared as it was hit by the rays of frost, only leaving behind a thin layer of ice on the wall behind it. Roman shot a proud smile at his partner. He loved watching him fight, the way his face was lit by the magical spells he trained so hard to learn was his favourite sight. “One down.” Logan said proudly. Patton took advantage of his close range and called upon his divine powers again. His hands glowed with a healing light. Janus took the opportunity to reach to the shelf behind him and pick up a few small pieces of rubble discarded there. Patton lunged at the remaining ghost, attempting to avoid the child he shielded himself with. The ghost quickly turned on him, holding out the child. Patton retracted, not wanting to harm her. Across the room Janus put away his staff and pulled out a sling. He closed his hand around the rocks and whispered into it. “Incanto lapis.” When Janus opened his hand, the pebbles had a hint of a pink glow around them. He loaded the three small rocks into the sling and took aim. “Are you aiming at the child?!” Patton yelled from across the room. He knew his partner too well at this point. The rest of the group also looked over at him “Yeah.” Janus responded. The party looked between the two, not even paying attention to the ghost. “The child is a child!” Patton scolded. “Fine.” Janus groaned. He let go of the elastic and the rocks flew towards the ghosts. The little girl put up her hands to block her face but the pebbles went around her, bouncing off the wall and hitting her attacker. The other ghost faded after the rocks hit his head, the small girl fell to the floor. She stood and looked around. She smiled brighter than the white glow around her as the party put away their weapons. “Thank you! Thank you for helping me!” She said gratefully. She looked around at them all before her eyes fell on Kai. “Oh, can I pet your dog?” She asked happily. Patton offered the girl a comforting smile. “Of course you can.” He answered. The girl floated forward and began playing with the dog. They all looked at each other. Roman kneeled down next to the girl. “Hello there.” He said gently, trying to get her attention without startling her. She looked over with a smile. “Hi!” She replied. She looked at Roman quizzically for a second. “You look my friend.” Roman looked interested. For anyone else this’d be just a confused or funny kid moment, but he had a twin brother who hung around this house. “Your friend?” He asked, trying to pull more information from the child. She turned away from Roman to continue playing with Kai. “My friend Duke. He always scares away my parents when they try to hurt me but he wasn’t here this time.” She explained happily. Roman looked up at his friends. “He came by a month ago and told me that he was leaving. I miss him. He was silly and made me laugh. He promised he’d come back though!” The story seemed to fit what Roman’s parents had told them. Remus was a prince but preferred the title of duke in non-formal settings. He always said What’s the point of being called a prince if I won’t get the crown? “He’s my brother.” Roman was excited to finally have some information but tried to keep his voice quiet and reassuring. "We haven't seen him in a while either, do you have any idea where he went? Also what’s your name?" He questioned. He felt guilty for interrogating a small dead child. “I don't remember my name, but I do know where Dukey went. He said he was going to find you. He went to the witches in the north forest to see if they knew where you was.” She stopped playing with Kai and turned to Roman who had now shifted to a sitting position. “I’m looking for my brother too! Have you seen him? His name is Elliott.” Roman looked up at Logan who shrugged. He looked at the others who also didn’t know. "I'm really sorry, we haven't seen your brother,” Roman said. "Or my brother," he added after a pause. The small girl reached out and touched his hand. She smiled at him, he couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay. If you see him tell him he’s late and Mama and Pa are going to be mad.” The child said as she started to fade. Roman gave her one last nod as she disappeared. Roman stayed sitting for a couple seconds. He felt bad for the young girl. Logan put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “We should find somewhere to set up camp.” Janus prompted. Roman nodded and stood slowly. They all left the burnt out house and set up camp on the edge of the northern forest, lighting a small fire and dropping some of their gear. “Our supplies are low.” Logan said, rummaging through his bag. “We’ll need to find some food.” Virgil nodded. He and Logan went into the forest. “I’ll go too, we’ll have a better chance.” Janus said as he stood. “Take Kai.” Patton told him. Kai trod up next to Janus. They headed into the forest together. After a while Logan and Virgil returned. "I saw some berries.” Logan said upon returning. Virgil settled empty handed by the fire. “I thought they were blackberries. I tried to get them. I was unable to, and was damaged by the thorns." Logan put out his arms to show a number of scratches. Behind him Janus came out of the treeline. "Well it turns out having the dog with us was very beneficial." Janus said and dropped a dead fox in front of Logan. "Look what he caught." Logan flushed red as Janus nudged him jokingly. "Never speak a word of this again." Logan huffed and went over to sit in Roman’s lap, Janus picked up the fox again. "Of course not Logan, I wouldn't want to blackmail you with any of this." Janus teased as he handed the fox to Patton. After the fox was skinned and cooked they all sat around the fire eating together. Janus and Patton sat facing each other, both with food in their lap. “You know I think I left something in the forest.” Janus said as they ate. “Help me come look for it?” Patton rolled his eyes. Janus and him had been dating for near a year now. He knew his tricks. “Janus! Everyone can hear you.” Patton didn’t really mind that much. “Yeah they look very interested.” Janus laughed and nodded towards Logan and Roman. They had abandoned their dinner and started kissing instead. Virgil was playing with Kai nearby. “Even so. I would prefer something a little more romantic then just follow me into the forest.” Patton responded. Again, Patton didn’t really mind. He loved Janus no matter whether he was able to come up with fancy words or not. He just enjoyed teasing him. Janus tried to come up with something quickly but his flustered mind couldn’t find anything. “So…” Janus began. “Papaya?” Janus drew out the last sound of that word. Patton giggled, it was cute putting Janus on the spot. He was usually so sharp tongued but when it came to Patton he would lose his nerve. Patton decided to throw him a bone. He put down his plate and put his arms around Janus’ neck. “Well I don’t know anything about papaya…” He began. He got close to Janus’ pointed ear, his breath warmed it better than the fire did. “But I do know about peaches.” Without warning Janus stood, holding Patton. He ran off into the forest with his partner. Virgil enjoyed the company of Kai. Virgil didn’t talk much and Kai didn’t mind, mostly because Kai was a dog and also couldn’t talk. Virgil also enjoyed being an elf. It meant he could stay up later than his friends. He looked across at his sleeping friends, he hated just sitting around. It meant he had to think. There were lots of things he didn’t want to think about right now. He went into the forest and climbed into the trees. He jumped from one branch to another. He did this as a kid, except instead of trees it was buildings. It helped him clear his head, focusing only on where to jump next. As he jumped he heard a scamper below him. He looked around and saw a fat rabbit. “You shouldn’t be out this late.” Virgil whispered as he grabbed his shortbow. He also took out an arrow, the purple feathers were stiff against his hand as he pulled the arrow back against the string. “Goodnight little bunny.” Virgil hummed as he let go of the string. He gathered the rabbit and took it back to the camp. There were just enough embers left in the fire to cook it. He stored it in his bag and found a place to sit against a tree. The other four were huddled together, sleeping in one big pile. Even Kai was with them. He felt a little left out, but he needed to be alone to meditate. Virgil closed his eyes, signalling the end to another day of adventure.

#sanders sides d&d #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #remy sanders #ts remy #logince #moceit

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years ago

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I’m Dying for a Taste of You: Chapter 5

Chapter Title: The Side Effects of You

Chapter Summary: Michael and Alex follow Caber out to the middle of nowhere and witness a horrific sight. Michael makes a decision regarding Alex that doesn't work out the way he hopes.

A/N: I've officially planned out the rest of this story! I've never planned anything before and it feels strangely liberating. The remaining chapters will be longer (like this one) so I can wrap up the plot of this story in a reasonable amount of time. There's a pretty graphic depiction of blood and body horror in here so be warned. And we have the return of highly possessive Michael. So enjoy!

Kinks Explored: Somnophilia, bondage, wax play

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

Alex and Michael followed Caber out but lost sight of him as he wove through the cars. Alex watched Michael’s eyes as he glared at every small movement that Alex wouldn’t be able to see. He rested a hand on his arm.

“Just stay calm. He wouldn’t stray far from Alayna right? Are we really going to assume she just left?” Michael rolled his shoulders in response.

“I can still smell the creep. Wait here,” he said. He quickly unhooked the chain from Alex’s neck and he vanished. He was only gone for a moment before he was back and shoving a sweatshirt and gun into his arms. Alex raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d come here without having a way to arm you, did you?” Alex didn’t know what he thought. He had been perfectly willing to let Michael handle the fighting if need be.

What’s wrong with me? I never completely put my life in someone else’s hands. It’s stupid.

Alex pulled the sweatshirt on and wrapped the strap of the holster around his waist. Michael looked him over once and grabbed his hand, pulling him in a direction away from the club. Alex knew this would be faster to let Michael go alone, but he didn’t seem to be willing to do that.

His prosthesis made it hard to run. Michael seemed to be conscious of it but the pace he was walking certainly wasn’t easy. Alex just clenched his jaw and kept pace. He wondered if turning into a vampire would heal his leg. He assumed not but the rumor was that becoming a vampire healed everything. He had learned to live with it and it wasn’t as though it bothered him, but what would it be like to actually experience sensation again?

Michael gripped his hand tightly and seemed to slow his pace. Alex just squeezed his hand back as they walked. Michael was scanning over everything, occasionally lifting his head like a dog would, smelling the air. Alex wanted to chuckle but he figured he could tease him about it when they weren’t hunting a killer vampire.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, tugging on his arm. Michael stopped walking.

“I don’t know if Caber is the vampire behind the murders. But even if he’s not, I have to kill him for breaking the rules of the club.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities, but isn’t he way stronger than you?”

“I’m a lot more pissed off. I know you can’t smell it, but he’s surrounded by blood.” Alex nodded slowly and Michael turned to keep walking.

They were walking into an open field next to the club. The neon lights still obscured the stars and served as a beacon to find their way back. Not that Michael would get lost. The rocky New Mexico ground made Alex stumble but he never fell with Michael holding onto him.

The walk was silent except for the dirt under their feet. The darkness grew as they moved further into the opening. His eyes were adjusting slowly but the moon was absent so natural light was minimal. Alex looked up at the stars, wondering just how he had gotten into this mess.

He could just barely see the dip of the water retention hole. No water would be there now but the spring and the melting snow usually filled it. Michael sped up his walking again, pulling Alex along behind him. He was at a light jog by the time they got to the edge.

A small hint of light coming from one of the sewers caught his attention. The biggest one. He glanced at Michael who was hyper focused and glaring at the light.

“Stay here and I’ll be back,” he ordered quietly. Alex shook his head.

“There’s no way I’m letting you go down there alone. You gave me a gun for a reason,” he whispered back.

“I can smell a lot of blood. Whatever’s down there… I don’t think you should see it.”

“This is my job remember? I need to find the identity of who’s killing girls to clear your name. And I have a strong feeling it’s Caber.” Michael clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair.

“Dammit, fine.” He released Alex’s hand and lifted his to his mouth, biting it. Alex didn’t flinch as Michael lifted his bleeding hand and wiped it from his chin down his neck. He repeated the same motion on the other side. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“What’s all that for?” he asked.

“It’ll cover your smell for a little while. Hopefully long enough to get some useful information.” Michael started walking down slope to the basin. Alex watched after him for a moment before following. He stumbled a bit but Michael was right in front of him, looking over his shoulder as they walked.

When they finally made it down, Michael, grabbed his face gently. Even in the dark, his sharp features stood out. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It felt too much like a goodbye. When Michael tried to pull away, Alex grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Alex wasted no time running his fingers over his shoulders and up his neck to rest on his face. He kissed him again. Filling it with a promise of later that he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep.

Michael held him close for another few moments, sighing against his lips and hands slipping just under the sweatshirt so his fingers brushed over Alex’s skin.

“Stay behind me,” Michael mumbled. Alex nodded and they pulled apart. They walked as quietly as they could to the sewer opening, finding the grate cover set to the side of the hole. Michael had to duck slightly but it was wide enough for them to walk side by side. Alex followed him in, opting to stay only one step behind him as opposed to a few.

The light at the end of the tunnel pulsed and flickered every few seconds. Why would they light a fire in a place with almost no ventilation? Alex started to see the imperfections in the wall as they got closer. The tension in Michael’s shoulders refused to relax. Alex couldn’t smell what he did, but it must be torture.

They rounded the curve of the sewer, Michael trying to peak ahead before they accidentally walked out and gave themselves away. Alex grabbed his hand again, trying to make sure that he didn’t stumble too far forward. Michael squeezed his hand in a silent acknowledgment.

Suddenly he stopped and pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could. He lifted a finger to his lips and inched his way along the stone. Alex tried to peak around his body but Michael kept him pressed back. Alex dropped his hand and reached for his gun. He finally picked up on the quiet talking.

“I promise baby girl, I’ll stop whenever you want. This is just a scene I’ve wanted to try,” he heard Caber say. His voice was weirdly gentle and reassuring.

“I don’t know if I like being tied up like this. I mean… what if you can’t stop?” A small voice squeaked out. They finally inched far enough that Alex could look around Michael.

Torches burned along the walls and in the center of the room. He watched a shirtless Caber walk around a stone slab. It was almost straight but rested at an angle with a girl who was still fully clothed chained to it. Alex chanced a look at Michael who looked sick to his stomach.

“You don’t trust me? I’m hurt. I promise you’ll enjoy this.” He stopped in front of the girl and leaned in, biting her shoulder. Her limbs pulled against the cuffs as she sighed in pleasure. Alex looked away. He started to feel hope. That maybe this girl wasn’t in danger, just at the mercy of some weird fantasy.

The tearing of fabric made him jump as his head jerked up to watch in horror as a knife ripped through her dress. She screamed and tried to cover herself but with her hands and legs restrained, she was helpless. Alex gripped the gun in his hand, ready to jump in and stop this.

“Stop! I don’t want this!”

“So you lied to me? That’s not very nice.” Alex could hear the sick joy he was getting from this. The girl’s eyes widened as he pressed the tip of the knife into her throat. She choked out a sob and desperately pulled at the cuffs.

Alex took less than a step towards them.

He thought he would go deaf from her scream.

Michael grabbed his arm.

“Your blood is for a good cause. Promise.”

Blood poured from the line running down her torso.

A hand clamped down over Alex’s mouth and pulled him back from the scene. His fingers trembled around the gun and his feet weren’t on the floor. Water spilled from his eyes and his stomach turned. The image burned into his mind replayed on every surface he looked at.

Michael held him so tightly he thought he might snap in half. But he also might fall apart otherwise. He mumbled soft hushing sounds into his ear. Telling him to wait for a bit longer. Michael pulled the gun from his hand and slipped it back into the holster on his hip.

Alex had seen the bodies after they had been drained. But they were never like what he just saw. He hadn’t considered what the other victims looked like while it was happening. Now he had a perfect visual. One that he couldn’t force away.

He could hear Michael mumbling words in his ear but couldn’t make any of them out. The light at the end of the tunnel was growing faint but even the dark couldn’t stop the replay of the knife cutting the girl open.

The night air brushed over his face, forcing him to finally blink. Tears still ran over his cheeks and the nausea hadn’t subsided. He struggled in Michael’s arms as his stomach flipped. He released him and Alex fell to his knees hurling. Sobs made his shoulders tremble and broke up the sounds of his emptying stomach.

Michael rubbed his back slowly, pulling him into his arms when he couldn’t puke anymore. They sat together as Alex cried, his eyes screwed shut, willing the image away.

“I know, I know. He won’t get away with this ok?” Michael reassured. But Alex couldn’t take it. The tears didn’t stop as he wrenched himself away from Michael, rage filling his body. “Alex—”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Alex growled out. He grabbed the gun and ran- as much as he could on shaking legs- back toward the entrance to the sewer. He didn’t get far before Michael was grabbing him again, arms wrapped around his waist as though he were a small child.

“You will die if you go back in there right now!”

“I don’t care! I’ll take that bastard with me!”

“Alex, listen to me! I will help you, ok? I will help you get rid of him but please, stop!”

“I can’t let him walk for another second!” Michael’s fingers dug into his waist as he was pulled back. Alex struggled but Michael held him fast. He was spun around to look at Michael’s face.

The background faded away and he couldn’t break eye contact. Michael’s eyes glowed bright red in the dark. His mark throbbed and he dropped the gun to the ground. His body relaxed and he struggled to remember what they were arguing about. Michael spoke slowly, but his mouth never moved.

Calm down. I’m here. Stop fighting.

And it was the best idea ever. Alex leaned in slowly and Michael pulled him to his chest. Soft kisses were dropped over his cheek and down his neck. He let his head roll to the side and eyes flutter shut.

Sleep. My love.

Light filtered in from the edges of the shade when Alex cracked open his eyes. He closed them again when he determined it was too bright. Feeling slowly returned to his body. The soft sheets were wrapped around him. Softer than normal cotton. They rested against skin all the way down his body. He was sore from the previous day but pleasantly so. He reached out and ran his fingers over the fabric before they brushed against another body. He turned over slowly and pulled his eyes open again.

Michael’s face was soft and his curls looked like a halo on the pillow where the light fell. Alex followed the lines of his face down his neck to his shoulders. He followed the hard lines until they disappeared under the covers at his waist.

Alex didn’t remember much after they followed Caber out of the club. It’s like there was a blank where memories should have been. Alex sighed and figured he would just ask Michael when he woke up.

He wanted the answers now but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peace that was the two of them in bed together. Alex reached out again, running his fingers over Michael’s cheek and over his neck. He snored softly and shifted under Alex’s touch but didn’t wake.

He scooted himself closer as his hand ran over his shoulder and down his side. He slipped his fingers under the sheet and pushed it away slowly. Alex kept his eyes on Michael’s face, making sure he didn’t wake up. He rolled him to his back carefully, leaning down and kissing his chest.

Michael was beautiful and Alex had known that since the first time they met. But now he had time to really take him in. He might have blushed if he had been awake but this was his time. His time to be selfish.

Alex kissed his chest, flicking his tongue over his nipples and watching them harden from the attention. Michael sighed in his sleep as he slowly worked his way down his torso. The lower he moved, the more Michael’s cock hardened.

“’lex…” Michael mumbled. Alex held in his laugh from the joy of knowing he could have this effect on him, even in his sleep. He let his fingers dance over his skin, barely brushing the surface. The hair on his chest tickled his fingers and face.

He moved lower, nipping gently at the skin on his hips. Michael’s breathing was picking up, and soft moans occasionally escaped. Alex wondered what he was dreaming about. He ran his hands down his arms and tickled the palms of his hands. Tracing his mouth along the V of his hips, Alex positioned himself between Michael’s legs.

Alex started slowly, taking the head of his half hard cock in his mouth. A small whimper made him grin. He scratched his sides gently, moving down to his hips and then legs. Michael’s mouth opened slightly as he sighed. Alex swirled his tongue around the head, tasting the pre cum that had started leaking.

He pushed Michael’s thighs apart slowly, running a finger along the crease of his ass. He sucked his cock in as deep as his gag reflex would allow. Michael whispered a broken sound that might have been his name. Alex teased his fingers around his hole as he wrapped his tongue around his cock as much as he could.

Alex kept watch on his face as he moved his head up and down at a steady pace. His free hand massaged his own growing erection as it throbbed and begged to be stimulated by something else.

If I wake him up, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to solve this problem.

Alex pushed the tip of his finger into Michael’s ass. He’d wanted to do this yesterday but he’d been spent. As fun as it had been to include Forrest, he needed to own Michael. Make sure he was the only one Michael wanted.

He released his cock from his mouth and ran his tongue down his shaft before sucking one of his balls into his mouth briefly. Michael’s eyebrows drew together along with a soft moan. Alex moved on quickly, pushing his tongue against his entrance alongside his finger. He only lingered a few seconds before pulling away. He glanced around the room and noticed a brand new bottle of lube on the dresser. He ran his eyes over Michael again and decided against pulling himself up and putting on his prosthesis just for that. He pulled his fingers out and spit on them before pushing them back in.

Alex kissed Michael’s thighs as his fingers moved in him slowly. He watched Michael’s cock jump every time he pushed in. He went back and forth between his legs, working his way back to his hips and the head of his now fully hard cock. Alex let his eyes flutter closed as he took Michael in his mouth again.

“Well this is certainly my favorite way to wake up,” a groggy voice mumbled. Fingers ran through Alex’s hair as he opened his eyes to find Michael smiling at him. He hummed around him and Michael sighed happily, gripping the strands of hair. “Fuck,” he breathed out.

Alex curved the two fingers buried in his ass, pressing against his prostate. Michael’s cock throbbed in his mouth as small moans slipped out. Michael let him take his time. Never thrusted though he could feel the way his legs were shaking.

“God Alex, I won’t last if you keep this up,” Michael joked, breathless. Alex released his cock from his lips and grinned up at him.

“Fine. Do me a favor and get the lube you so kindly picked up.” Michael smiled back as Alex pulled his fingers out. Michael moved quickly and was back on the bed kneeling next to Alex in no time at all.

Alex pushed himself up on his knees to meet him halfway. Michael cradled his face in his hands as their lips met softly. Alex reached of his hips, running his hands over them to the muscles in his lower back. He splayed them over as much skin as he could, feeling the muscles flex.

Michael licked at his lip before tugging on it gently, making Alex sigh. He ran his hands down to squeeze his ass before pushing a finger back in. Michael yanked their bodies flush against each other, save for the space where he was gripping both of their cocks and stroking at the same pace as Alex’s finger.

“I had never seen anything so beautiful. You sleeping next to me,” Alex said during a pause in their kisses. “Every part of you free for me to take. I couldn’t help myself.” Michael chuckled and Alex could have sworn his cheeks were dusted pink.

“You keep reminding me how much I don’t deserve you. But I refuse to let you go.” Michael nipped at his lip again, slightly elongated fangs catching the skin. Alex pulled his finger out of his ass and gripped his hips instead.

“The feeling is mutual,” Alex said. Then he pushed Michael onto his back again. He dragged his hands more roughly over his torso than he had earlier. Michael rolled into his touch and reached up to run his own hands down Alex’s arms. Alex didn’t allow it for long, grabbing his wrists and pinning them together above his head.

Michael’s fanged smile turned Alex on more than ever. Everything about Michael was perfect. He leaned down to press hungry kisses against his mouth that Michael gladly returned. Alex rubbed their cocks together, shuddering at the stickiness that leaked from both tips.

He grabbed the lube and pushed the cap open. He released Michael’s wrists but he never moved them as Alex coated himself. Michael’s eyes burned holes in his skin as they roamed his body. Alex closed the lube and tossed it aside. He grabbed Michael’s wrists again and let his now lube coated fingers slip inside him.

Michael moaned and rolled his hips. His noises cut short by Alex kissing him again. He moved his fingers quickly, spreading and twisting them to relax the muscles. But Alex was already impatient, and apparently so was Michael.

“Fuck Alex, I need you inside me,” he pleaded between kisses.

Alex pulled his fingers out roughly, making Michael yelp and grabbed his cock, pushing the head into his ass. Both of their mouths fell open at the tight squeeze. Alex rocked his hips slowly but his legs were shaking with need.

Michael wrapped his own legs around Alex’s hips and pulled him in. He thrusted forward, burying himself deep inside. Alex’s head fell to rest on Michael’s shoulder as they both moaned and panted.

Alex thrusted roughly again and again. His eyes closed, lost in the bliss of Michael clenching around him. He pressed his mouth to his shoulder and kissed once, twice, then bit. Michael met his next thrust, making them both gasp.

“Alex, please. I need to touch you,” Michael begged. Alex met his gaze before releasing him. Almost instantly his arms were around his neck, hands tangled in his hair, pulling their mouths together. Alex kept his rhythm steady but he was close and it wouldn’t stay that way much longer.

“You’re mine, Michael,” Alex said when they parted. “I don’t want you going to anyone else for anything, understand?” He watched as Michael’s eyes turned red and teeth extended. He tried to turn his face away but Alex grabbed his throat, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I refuse to let you go.”

Alex held Michael down by his throat. Knowing full well that if he wanted to, he could escape. He sat up and bent one of Michael’s legs back so he could hit deeper. They moaned together at the new angle. Michael grabbed himself and started stroking as Alex snapped his hips forward.

His mind was getting fuzzy. All he could focus on was chasing the edge that he wanted to fall over. He squeezed his hand around Michael’s throat tighter and watched as his back arched and his fist twisted into the sheets.

“Cum for me Michael,” Alex ordered. Michael moaned and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from his throat. Alex smirked down at him as he pressed his lips to the pulse point in his arm. “Go on baby. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Alex’s hips stuttered in their rhythm when he bit down. It hurt. So much more than usual. Alex hissed but kept his thrusts going. He cursed as he felt the pressure in his groin. Michael was staring up at him, eyes as red as the blood that escaped from the side of his mouth. He wanted to beg Michael to kill him. To turn him.

Michael released his wrist and pushed himself up with his free hand. Alex leaned in to rest his forehead against his. They panted together, chasing the relief that they both needed.

“Michael, I’m…” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before he was filling Michael’s ass with his cum. Choking out a low moan and grabbing his legs, bending them back so he could pound into him. Michael’s ass gripped around him, sending waves of overstimulation to the rest of his body. His cock throbbed as it emptied itself.

“’lex…” Michael moaned out. A few more rough thrusts pushed him over the edge.

Michael’s back arched as his hand pumped his cock. He came over his abs and fist, moaning brokenly as Alex’s thrusts slowed. Alex pushed himself fully inside Michael before letting himself fall forward onto his chest. Michael squirmed beneath him, rubbing his cock against Alex’s stomach and grinding his ass against his hips where they were connected.

“Stop moving,” Alex mumbled, nuzzling his face into his chest.

“Can’t. You feel too good,” he replied though he did attempt to still his hips.

Alex lifted his head and rested his chin on Michael’s chest. He watched him curiously. The blood on his lips started to dry and he seemed to be biting his bottom lip to keep himself still. Alex leaned up and kissed him, pulling his lip from between his teeth. Fresh blood slipped over Alex’s tongue and he sighed happily.

“If you need more—” Alex started. Michael cut him off by flipping them over. The mess on his stomach was now covering Alex’s too. He grabbed his cock loosely and rubbed slowly, grinding his ass down.

Alex whimpered quietly but didn’t stop him. He ran his hands over his legs and hips, moving Michael back and forth. His cock throbbed from the continued stimulation but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

It wasn’t long before Michael was gasping and moaning above him, jerking himself off with shaking legs. Alex dug his fingers into his hips and thrusted his own up quickly. Their hips met a few times before Michael shuttered and came again with a low groan. There wasn’t nearly as much as the first time but his cum still made a mess between them.

Michael pulled himself off Alex carefully before rolling onto his back next to him. Alex turned his head to watch him run a hand through his hair and smile. The sun caught his hair again and Alex chuckled. Michael glanced in his direction with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re still the most stunning person I’ve ever seen.” Michael just rolled his eyes but Alex saw the small grin that snuck out.

“I’ve got nothing on you, hunter.” Alex blushed and Michael rolled onto his side, running a hand over his arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone as perfect as you. Even though you’re reckless and let me drink when you know you shouldn’t.”

“I just want you to be happy. And I want to be the one to make you happy.” Alex took the hand that was running over his arm and pulled it to his mouth, kissing his fingers.

They laid there for a couple hours, talking about nothing in particular. Michael teased Alex about their activities the previous night and Alex was reminded of the missing time in his memories.

“Hey, I can’t remember anything after we left the club. What happened?” Any part of Michael that had been relaxed tensed under Alex’s fingers. He sat up and pretty much jumped out of bed.

“I believe I promised you a warm bath. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Michael was gone from the room before he finished speaking. Alex’s eyebrows drew together. What was he hiding? He had six days to solve the murders of the girls and he didn’t have time to worry if Michael was being honest.

He was almost certain it was Caber but couldn’t figure out why his gut insisted that. He needed proof if he was going to get Michael off the hook. Michael wandered back into the room a few minutes later with a cocky smile on his face. Alex didn’t have time to react before he was being scooped up into Michael’s arms and carried to the bathroom.

Michael’s tub was huge and had jets. He hadn’t used them last time he was here. But here he was, being set down into comfortably warm water with Michael sliding in behind him. His arms wrapped around his waist, pulling Alex against his chest. He kissed his shoulders and mark making Alex sigh.

This was obviously a distraction. Alex’s brain told him to just go with it. Michael would be happier if he did. Michael pressed a button on the side of the tub and the jets started shooting slightly warmer water. Alex tried to make sure he didn’t get lost in the therapeutic massage against his knee, just above where his missing leg was.

“Michael,” he mumbled out, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. It would be so easy to just let it go…

“I’ll take care of you alright?” Michael said next to his ear. Alex slipped into the comfort of his arms. But only for a second.

He reached for the memories of last night again, only to come up blank. Something significant was cut from his recollection of the previous night.

“Michael. As much as I want to let you get away with the distraction, what happened after we followed Caber yesterday?” Alex leaned forward to put some distance between them. He looked over his shoulder at Michael.

His face was wrought with worry and nerves. He refused to look Alex in the eye as he grabbed the soap and lather his hands before rubbing the tension out of Alex’s shoulders. Michael washed slowly, digging his thumbs into the muscles. Alex sighed and looked away, allowing him time to think.

“You were horrified by what we found. So I took your memories,” he said quietly. For a minute, the only sounds were the water as it shifted with Michael’s movements.

Anger bubbled under Alex’s skin. Michael had told him he doesn’t use his powers like that. And now he’s gone and taken an entire evening of time from him. He wanted to jump up and run away but he was confined to the bath. He cursed his missing leg. Instead he gripped the sides of the tub until his knuckles turned white.

“Please understand Alex. I’ll tell you what you need to know but I wasn’t going to let you suffer with seeing visions.”

“You had no right to make that decision for me.”

“You were in a rage, Alex. I had to stop you. You didn’t handle what we found out well.” Alex paused but stood his ground. Even though it killed him to go against Michael.

“You’re going to give me every memory that you took back,” Alex said lowly. He glared at the white wall.

“Alex—”

“No! You are going to do as I say Michael Guerin. Or I swear to god I will leave.”

Alex’s throat burned with the words. He knew it was an empty threat but he didn’t know how to make Michael understand the betrayal he felt. Michael had gone silent behind him, fingers frozen in place on his skin. Alex turned to look over his shoulder at him.

He met Michael’s red eyes. Fury rolled off of him as his fingers started to dig into Alex’s skin. He flinched at the sharp pain.

“Michael. Let go of me.” He finally blinked and looked down to where his fingers were. He released Alex but it didn’t last long. Alex was yanked back by his waist and Michael was burying his teeth in his mark.

Alex yelped at the sudden intrusion and tried to squirm away from Michael. Tears pricked at his eyes as Michael sucked at the skin. He wasn’t drinking. The way his jaw clenched and bit made the message clear. This was intended to hurt. Alex pushed as much as he could but Michael refused to release him. Then words began to float into his mind.

You are mine. You will not leave.

His brain demanded that he believe those words. That they were the only right solution. Michael detached from his throat and Alex scrambled to the other side of the tub. The fear creeped into his mind and he grabbed at his neck, as though to stop the bleeding even though there was none. Michael’s eyes glowed bright red.

“What is wrong with you?” Alex snapped.

At his voice, Michael seemed to slump back. His eyes blinked rapidly as the red faded. He looked around the bathroom as though he didn’t know where he was. His gaze finally landed on Alex, who shook even though the water was warm.

“I— Alex I—” He shot up and climbed out of the tub, grabbing the towel and slamming the door closed behind him. Alex jumped at the sound.

Alex finished washing himself before climbing out of the tub and siting on the edge. Had he gone too far? Did threatening to leave send Michael into a frenzy?

He looked around and while there were new handrails on the wall, he wouldn’t be able to maneuver himself back to the room without crawling. He stared at the closed door for a few minutes before deciding to ask for help.

“Michael,” he called. He wasn’t sure if Michael was still here but he hoped. He let his anger get the best of him. While he didn’t think he was in the wrong, he could have gone about it differently. The door squeaked open slowly. Not fulling opening. Alex took a breath, thankful he hadn’t left.

“I need help getting back to the room,” he said quietly.

“I’ll bring your prosthesis to you,” Michael mumbled out before starting to close the door.

“No. I want you to help me.” Alex knew what Michael was feeling. He needed to make sure he understood that Alex still trusted him. Michael hesitated before pushing the door open. He had put on a pair of sweats with a loose t-shirt and he wouldn’t look at Alex. Just offered his hand. He shoved back the embarrassment of his next demand. “No. Carry me.”

“It would be better if I just got your prosthesis. You don’t need to pretend like you want me to help.” Alex’s nose twitched in annoyance.

“Carry me,” he repeated more firmly. Michael finally met his eyes and he could see they were red from crying. His heart broke. “Please,” he begged quietly.

Michael moved slowly but lifted him into his arms. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, resting his head on his shoulder. Michael held him securely. There was no danger of being dropped. He wouldn’t hurt him.

He was placed on the bed gently and Michael stepped away before he could stop him. He walked across the room to pick up his prosthesis and bring it to him. He set it on the ground next to Alex.

Alex grabbed his wrist before he could move again. He tried to get Michael to look at him but he simply refused. He tugged on his arm to bring him closer. Michael hated himself and Alex could tell.

“Can you bring me some clothes?” he asked quietly. Michael nodded and moved to the dresser, pulling out more sweats and another shirt. He handed them to Alex before beelining for the door. “Wait!” He froze just as he stepped into the hall.

“I want to talk. About yesterday. About what just happened. About us.” Alex pulled the sweats on, then the shirt. Michael stayed in the hall while he got dressed. Only turning once he was done. He moved back into the room, leaning against the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Alex sighed.

“I’m sorry I said I would leave. I didn’t mean it.” Michael’s eyes flicked up to him for a second.

“I… You shouldn’t apologize. You have every right to want to leave. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“It hurt Michael. The way you bit me.” His eyes screwed shut and he gripped his arms.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to find a way to keep you here. Keep you with me.” Alex knew this. Knew that he had tried to compel him to stay. But he fought it back. He was here because he wanted to be.

“You tried to compel me. It didn’t work.” Michael looked up at him, confusion written all over his face.

“It did. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Alex shook his head.

“No, Michael. I resisted the compulsion.”

“That’s not possible.”

“You’re the one who told me I had to learn how to fight off the influence of the mark. So I did. Compulsion is no different.” Michael stared at him. Dumbfounded. A small smile broke on his face before it vanished again.

“You never fail to amaze me,” he said quietly before looking away again. Alex sighed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you compelled my memories away yesterday. When I probably wasn’t prepared. You still had no right. I need all the information to make an accurate judgement,” Alex explained. Michael ran a hand through his hair and bounced one of his legs.

“I just wanted to protect you. I was scared you were going to get yourself killed.”

“I get that but I want them back, Michael. Then we can figure out what to do.” He looked at him and took a few steps toward the bed.

“We?” Alex’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since the bath. He gave Michael a small smile.

“Yes. We.”

Michael kneeled down in front of Alex and took one of his hands gently. Alex squeezed back in response. He lifted his free hand to rest on Michael’s face as he leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“I forgive you for taking my memories as long as you return them. And I forgive you for what happened earlier. I trust you Michael. That hasn’t changed.” Michael lifted his head and chased Alex’s lips, pressing soft kisses to them.

Alex allowed this for a long while. He could feel Michael’s hesitation and fear in the way his hands trembled. The pleading in his kisses that begged Alex to reconsider. Their lips slipped over each other easily, soft sighs breaking the silence.

When Michael finally pulled back, he took a deep breath and ran his hands up Alex’s arms. Placing his hands on his face and pressing their foreheads together made Alex feel safe. Michael spoke softly.

“The part of your memories I took was when Caber sacrificed a girl. You froze and I had to drag you out. Once you regained your senses you were determined to kill him. I used compulsion to calm you down then seal your memories.”

Alex nodded, placing his hands over Michael’s. He swallowed, suddenly nervous about what he would see. What if Michael was right and he couldn’t handle it? Sacrifice was far off from any of the hypotheses the police force had. He would need to convince them of a new motive and that Michael wasn’t part of it.

“Alex, I’m going to need you to look at me,” Michael said softly. Alex opened his eyes to get lost in the golden brown of Michael’s. He watched as they slowly shifted to a glowing red. Mesmerized, Alex leaned forward, lips brushing against Michael again.

Remember everything that happened before I compelled you.

Like he was speaking into his mind, Alex felt like the answers to the universe had been laid out before him. A realization that he had been reaching for but could never quite understand.

Images began flashing through his mind. Some were fuzzy as the nature of memories go but there was no mistaking the blood drenching every part of the vision in front of him. A girl chained to a stone slab, a knife, a cut down her body. He distantly felt Michael’s hands on him, holding him upright.

Michael’s hand covering his mouth to stop the scream was when things blurred. He couldn’t make out any of the walls. The sacrifice replayed over in his mind until the outside came into view. He remembered the disgust and anger. He felt himself throw up in the memory and he wanted to gag all over again.

Then he was raging, grabbing for a gun and Michael was yelling. They both were. Alex needed to calm down and Michael overpowered him. Then they were pressed together and Michael’s eyes were red.

Alex slumped forward into Michael’s arms, trying to control the urge to start puking again. He tried closing his eyes but the image of the knife running down the girl’s torso wouldn’t let up. It felt like it wasn’t as vivid as the previous night, as though he was already starting to forget.

Michael pressed kisses to his head and held him close. He had moved to sit next to him on the bed. He made soft hushing noises and Alex was grateful. He felt the anger rising again. At himself. At Michael. But mostly at Caber.

“Why did you stop me?” he asked once the nausea ebbed.

“Like I said yesterday. He would have been too strong. You would have died.”

Alex didn’t respond, not wanting to get into the same argument. He had always been prepared to die to protect people. He lost his leg protecting someone from a vampire and he would happily lose more limbs to rid the world of vampires like Caber.

“I know what you’re thinking. But my first instinct will always be to protect you.” Alex laughed humorlessly.

“That’s technically my instinct too. But you told me I should suppress it,” he pointed out.

“It’s different for me.” Alex snorted.

“How so?” Michael blushed and looked away from him.

“Because I brought you into this life. It’s my job to keep you safe. Besides, if I wasn’t there then you probably would have died that night we met.” Alex fell silent. Would Isobel have killed him? Everything that Michael said seemed to imply that she wouldn’t do something like that.

After a few moments of silence, Alex pulled away from Michael and grabbed his prosthesis. He rolled the sweats to above his knee and began the process of putting it on. He was acutely aware of Michael’s eyes on him but he tried to ignore it.

Once he was done he stood slowly, walking back and forth around the room to make sure he had put it on correctly. Then he rolled the sweats back down to cover it. He met Michael’s eyes and smiled.

“Let me make you some food,” Michael said, standing and offering Alex his hand. He took it and they moved downstairs together.

Michael made him pancakes and sausage and Alex would never not be surprised that he could cook so well. They tread carefully around their topics of conversation, wanting to wait until there wasn’t food in danger of going to waste.

Alex insisted on rinsing the dishes because Michael had cooked. But Michael was still intent on making up for attacking him. At least that’s what he assumed. He had grabbed everything before Alex even had time to stand. He had rolled his eyes and just decided to watch him.

His thoughts drifted to their activities in bed and he smiled. He would make sure to wake him up like that more often. His cock twitched and he shifted in his seat.

“Alex. I’m trying to give you a break after yesterday but I’m only a man.” Michael didn’t even look away from the plate he was scrubbing down. Alex felt the heat in his cheeks and tried to think of anything to stop the arousal.

Once the dishes had been placed in the washer, they both moved to the couch. In an effort to keep things serious, Alex sat across from Michael. As opposed to straddling his hips like he wanted to.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for stopping you yesterday,” Michael started. “But just because we saw him do it doesn’t mean you have evidence right?” Alex nodded.

“It’s unlikely they’ll take my word on anything. Especially considering it’s not a theory they had come up with yet.” He took a breath. “You were right to stop me yesterday. I still disagree with your methods.” Michael looked away from him. “What sacrifice was he performing?” Alex asked. Michael ran a hand over his jaw and shrugged.

“There’s a handful of old rituals that call for sacrifices but they haven’t been used for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. They’re generally regarded to not work.”

“Well what are they?” Michael glanced at him before pushing himself up from the couch. Alex raised an eyebrow as he walked to a bookcase he had never inspected too closely. He ran his finger over the spines of a few books before grabbing one with a green cover. Michael flipped through the pages before handing it to Alex.

“This is just a record of the rituals that have been performed. Most didn’t work.” Alex skimmed through the script that he could barely read. The page seemed to talk about reducing the sensitivity to light.

“But some did?”

“Yes. The one’s that worked,” Michael pulled the book from his hand and flipped to the back, “are here.” He handed it back and there were a total of maybe fifteen rituals. Some of them even seem to be repeated.

Healing Sun Sensitivity Fertility Sun Sensitivity Human Immortality Sun Sensitivity

Alex read over them again and again. None of them sounded like something Caber would be interested in. He ran his finger over the word ‘immortality.’

“There’s a way to turn a human immortal?” Michael swallowed and shook his head, as though he was trying to get rid of bad memory.

“This is just a list of rituals that worked. That doesn’t mean it went well. It requires a horrific amount of sacrifices and the human killed themselves after finding out.” Alex couldn’t even imagine how many people were required.

“What about this sun thing? It’s done the most.”

“It’s repeated every few hundred years. How do you think I can go outside without burning to ash. It’s a… less intense… ritual. Only requires a few people.” Alex’s eyes snapped up to Michael, appalled at the way he talked like their lives didn’t matter. “Alex. I can promise you that we only use the worst of the worst for it. That one’s not picky with who’s blood is used.”

Alex swallowed. He believed Michael that they picked horrible people for the sacrifice. But his stomach still turned at the thought. Some of the rituals had requirements. Was it something stereotypical like women virgins? Or were there other specifications. He shook his head and flipped through the pages more.

“None of those sound like something Caber would want.” Michael took the book from his hand again. “Hey—” Michael pressed his mouth to Alex’s to silence any protest. It didn’t linger long but it was enough to leave him wanting.

“I will help you with this. Isobel and Max both have books with more information. We have a week right?” Alex nodded. It didn’t sound like much time to him but Michael seemed confident.

“I just want to keep you safe,” Alex mumbled. Michael smiled and cradled his face in his hands.

“I know.”

Michael was right when he said that Isobel and Max had more resources. They both brought by more dusty old books than he had ever seen outside of an actual library. Isobel had even hung around most days to help them. Alex was not spared the lecture that he was sure Michael had heard already.

“Look. I don’t know what Michael told you but these kinds of relationships almost never end well. Someone will end up hurt or dead. I love Michael and I don’t want him getting killed because you decide you hate vampires after all.” Alex chose his own words carefully.

“I care about Michael. I’m trying to clear his name so people stop coming after him,” he insisted. She glared at him, as though trying to determine if he was telling her the truth.

“You’re smart, Manes. I don’t have to tell you that I could kill you if you so much as breathe the wrong way.” Alex hoped the fear that made a chill run down his spine didn’t show on his face. She sighed and pulled out her phone. She tapped a few times before she turned the phone to show him a picture.

He looked at a photo of Caber with a new girl. Happy and seemingly all heart eyes for her. The nausea returned. Isobel scrolled and showed another girl. Then another.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him since that night Michael said you saw the sacrifice. I’ll send these to you. It’s not definitive proof but it should be enough to get the police to look into it right?” Alex was dumbfounded. She had done that for them? Maybe it was more accurate to say she had done it for Michael. She cleared her throat and he realized he hadn’t answered her.

“Uh, yea. It should be enough. Thank you,” he said. “These girls haven’t been reported missing or dead yet. If they had, the police would already be on the porch. I’ll run over there now.”

Before he had time to stand, the front door opened and Michael rushed in and slammed it behind him. Alex would have asked a question but there was a pounding on the door.

“Your friend is on me again. Claiming that I broke the deal.” Alex’s eyes widened and he rushed to the door. One of the girls had turned up. He looked back at Isobel. She wasn’t part of this but if she was seen with Michael, she might be pulled into it.

“Stay out of sight,” he ordered her.

Alex pulled the door open just enough to squeeze out. He didn’t think before shoving Kyle back and glaring.

“What are you doing here? I have two more days.”

“That was only if no one else turned up dead. But your little pet or whatever killed another girl.” Alex shook his head and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

“No. He’s been with me the whole time!”

“Oh really? He wasn’t with you just now when I found him.” Kyle spoke like he won and Alex fumed. The accusation was meant to trip him up. He had used it on suspects before.

“Listen to me Kyle. He didn’t do this. But I know who did. If you’d let me come with you to the station then I could show the chief too.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and saw three attachments from an unregistered number that he assumed was Isobel. He clicked on the message to the three pictures she had sent and handed his phone to Kyle. “Look. This is the guy you should be focused on. His name is Caber.”

Kyle clicked through the photos. Alex saw him swallow and clench his fist around his phone. He shoved the device back against Alex’s chest.

“Send these to me and I can look into it. The chief will be back in two days and you better have something we can act on.” He stormed back to his car and Alex watched him until he disappeared around the corner. Only then did he let his shoulders relax.

He opened the door again to Michael and Isobel sitting on the couch. They talked in hushed voices, Isobel glaring at Michael. They stopped talking when the door clicked shut again. Michael stood again and moved to wrap his arm around Alex’s shoulders.

“Look, Alex is doing everything he can. If you insist on helping why don’t you seduce that cop?” Alex raised an eyebrow as he looked between the siblings.

“He is hot,” she said in a curious voice.

“Do me a favor and don’t kill him,” Alex replied half as a joke. He would be lying if he said that it wasn’t something he was concerned about.

“Oh honey, no. Just want to take him for a ride. You can bet that he won’t hate vampires after that,” she said, smirking. Alex chuckled and looked over at Michael who had a disgusted look on his face.

“Thanks for the gross image, now get out,” Michael said, gesturing to the door. Isobel rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll be back when I figure out where the next sacrifice is. I trust you two can keep yourself occupied until then.” Alex felt the heat on his cheeks from the suggestion. She seemed to float out of the house and he and Michael were alone again.

Michael ran his hands over Alex’s shoulders, rubbing circles into his muscles. He sighed and let himself relax back against Michael’s chest. He ran his mouth over his neck as he rubbed, kissing softly. As much as Alex wanted to let this continue, he still had things to do.

“Michael, I have to send some emails. Not to mention I have to try and narrow down the search area for Isobel.” Michael just hummed and sucked gently at his pulse point. Alex moaned softly and let his head roll to the side. He cursed Michael for being so good at distractions.

It took all of his will power to pull himself away from his wandering hands and mouth. Michael pouted and grabbed his arms again. Alex stood his ground and gave him a disapproving look.

“You’ve done nothing but work all week. It’s ok to take a break.” Alex just sighed.

“Working on a way to save your life might I remind you,” he said.

“I feel like I should be insulted that you think I wouldn’t be able to get away from that little police force.” Alex couldn’t help but crack a grin. Michael made fun of him often for the education the academy provided.

“I’ll feel better when I’ve cleared your name.” Michael watched him for a moment before releasing his arms. Alex smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then he made his way over to his open laptop at the kitchen table.

The house was mostly silent for about twenty minutes apart from Michael moving around upstairs. Alex sent the pictures to Kyle and was searching through the police data base to see if there were any patterns to where the victims were found. He marked another red dot on the map for the most recent discovery.

They had sent Isobel and Max to the sewer area where he and Michael had witnessed the sacrifice but there was no indication that Caber had been back since then. If the rituals were moving around, then there must be a pattern. He had always hated ‘connect the dots’ but it’s what his map was turning into.

He was so focused on his map that he didn’t hear Michael come downstairs. In fact he had no idea he was nearby at all until he felt a pair of hands running over his thighs under the table. He jumped slightly and pushed his chair back so he could look down.

Michael just grinned up at him, trying to play innocent. Alex could only watch as he nuzzled his thigh and traced his nose up to where his cock was tucked. Excitement made him twitch under the attention. Michael kissed him through the fabric of his sweats and Alex shuddered.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” Alex said sarcastically.

“I’m doing nothing. Feel free to keep working,” he replied almost innocently. Alex rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him, reading through the reports again.

Michael’s hands wandered, squeezing and rubbing his legs and thighs. His mouth was focused on gently teasing the outline of Alex’s cock that was slowly hardening. Michael ran his hands up and hooked his fingers in the waist of his sweats. He tugged gently and Alex considered making difficult for him but was more content letting him have his way. He lifted himself and Michael slipped his sweats down his legs and eventually off.

Alex scrolled to the next page of information as Michael’s breath hit his skin. Soft kisses landed on the inside of his thigh and traveled upward at a torturously slow pace. Right as Alex thought he would feel the warm wet of his mouth around him, he moved to the other side, avoiding his now annoying erection completely.

He read the same line for the fifth time as Michael kissed up his other thigh and nibbled at a spot that made him whimper. Alex looked down at his fingers on the keyboard as they trembled. He clenched his fists and demanded his brain focus on the task at hand. But Michael was making it hard to ignore him.

He tapped a few letters into the search bar before Michael was breathing right next to his cock, making it twitch. He ran his lips over him lightly, barely touching at all. Alex dug his nails into his palms and tried to read another sentence.

“You didn’t even ask where I was earlier,” Michael said sweetly from between his legs.

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to.” Alex cursed the way his voice shook.

“I got you a present. Of sorts.” The way he said it made his skin burn. It was then Michael wrapped his mouth around him. Alex’s hands flew from the keys to his hair. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs wider.

Michael worked him slowly, using his tongue to tease the tip while his hands roamed. One moved to cup his balls and run a finger over his ass. Alex’s hips rolled slightly at the stimulation. He pulled on Michael’s hair and felt the rumble of his groan around him.

“The present isn’t this torture right?” Alex gasped out. Michael released him with a wet sound that made Alex tug on his hair again.

“No, it’s not. But I thought I was being nice.” Alex looked down at him in time to watch him drag his tongue from the base of his cock to the head before swallowing him again. His hips jerked up and he moaned loudly.

“What made you think this was nice,” he scolded halfheartedly. He saw the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he pushed a finger into his ass, making Alex squirm. Michael refused to answer him as he took his cock in until it hit the back of his throat. Alex cursed and let his head fall back again.

Michael picked up the pace and Alex was spiraling fast. The finger in his ass moved in time with the bobbing of Michael’s head. It occasionally curved to just brush over his prostate. The chair he was sitting on squeaked every time his hips rocked forward.

Michael pushed the chair back so he wasn’t under the table anymore. He grabbed Alex’s leg and lifted it over his shoulder. He repeated the same process with the other leg. Alex called out as the finger inside him curved up again. He gripped the edge of the chair to keep himself steady.

“Oh fuck,” Alex moaned out. Michael was too good at this. He sucked harder and Alex was sure he would be content letting him do this forever. His body screamed for more as Michael’s tongue swirled around the tip of his leaking cock. He teetered on the edge of orgasm and he wanted to move but Michael had him pinned.

“Michael please,” he begged. The fingers inside him spread open to make sure he was prepped. Michael took his cock to the back of his throat once, twice… then pulled off. Alex whimpered as he backed away, smirk on his face.

“I need you sensitive,” he said smugly. Alex’s cock throbbed as he tried to glare at Michael who swept him up in his arms.

Michael carried Alex to his bedroom and the smell of rain and lavender overwhelmed him. The room was dark except for the candles scattered about. Alex’s mouth opened but no words came out. How was he supposed to react? His heart pounded in his chest as his emotions ran wild. Then Michael spoke next to his ear.

“Who said I wasn’t a romantic?” His tone was teasing and he set Alex down on the bed. His hand ran over Alex’s face gently.

“What is all this?” Alex asked nervously. The little light the candles actually provided was enough to see his wicked smile. Michael grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off him. He tossed it to the side before grabbing his throat and squeezing.

“I’m going to remind your body exactly who it belongs to.” It didn’t answer his question but he didn’t care. He trusted Michael.

He tugged Alex’s hands forward and positioned them as though he were praying. He walked to the other side of the room and pulled something out of a bag. When he stood in front of him again, he could make out the braiding of rope. Alex’s cock jumped as he remembered the way some people had been suspended at the club.

He had almost forgotten his desperation and need in the surprise of the candles. His hormones hit him full force and his hips rocked on the bed. Michael wrapped the rope around his wrists in a figure eight, occasionally tugging to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Alex thought about squirming to see his reaction but it was too late for that.

Michael pushed him back on the bed and pulled his arms up by the rope, tying the ends around the headboard. The rope was soft but if he pulled too much, there would be marks on his wrists.

“I feel like I should be concerned that you knew how to do that so efficiently,” Alex teased. He heard Michael chuckle in response.

“Isobel taught me a long time ago. She claimed it would be ‘good to know.’” Once Michael was satisfied with the knot he traced his hands down over Alex’s body, making him squirm. He pulled but the rope held him mostly in place. Michael made quick work of his prosthesis and Alex couldn’t help but smile at how good he had gotten at it. He didn’t get to dwell on the sweet thought for long before Michael was back to his torture.

Alex’s hips rolled as Michael’s nails scratched lightly at his hips before one hand wrapped around his aching cock. He moaned and pulled at his ropes again, whining when they didn’t move.

“Makes it harder to be a brat doesn’t it?” His breath caught in his throat as he looked down his body to where Michael was unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and stroking Alex with the other. Alex rocked his hips into Michael’s fist a few times before he released him. He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and crawled onto the bed, hovering above Alex.

“I need you,” Alex begged. Michael traced his finger over Alex’s lips before slipping a couple over his tongue.

“I know what you need, baby,” he said tauntingly. Alex’s hips rolled as Michael dragged his fingers from his mouth and down his body, nails scratching his skin. “You’ll only feel what I want you to.”

Michael vanished from above him and Alex tugged on the ropes, needing some kind of stimulation. His hips jerked up into nothing. He whimpered out Michael’s name and heard him chuckle. He watched as Michael picked up one of the small white candles and carried it back to the bed slowly. He met Alex’s gaze.

“Stay very still for me.” Alex could only nod in response, unsure if he would actually be able to keep the promise.

Michael tipped the candle and poured the wax into his palm. He closed his fist slowly and opened it again before the wax could harden. Then he placed his hand over Alex’s chest and he hissed in surprise. It wasn’t ‘hot’ per say but the warmth seemed to spread throughout his body.

The wax cooled quickly as Michael pulled his hand away. Alex’s muscles in his arms flexed as he tugged at the ropes. Michael leaved over his face and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, avoiding touching any other part of his body.

“How did that feel?” he mumbled against his lips. Alex’s body shook with need but he forced himself to answer anyway.

“Warm. Nice.” His voice was breathy.

“Good. Now close your eyes,” he ordered gently. Alex did as he was told and his skin buzzed as he felt Michael’s breath travel down his body.

He jerked when Michael flicked his nipple with his tongue. He could feel the precum leaking from his cock as it rolled down his length. Michael didn’t focus on his nipple for long before he pulled away. Alex was tempted to crack open his eyes and peak.

A sharp burn hit his sternum. It rolled down towards his navel as his back arched and he cried out. The heat rippled over his skin as though it was Michael’s venom but it eventually cooled. His breath left him in small gasps as he felt Michael’s fingers trace the same path as the heat.

Alex’s cock jumped again and he rolled his hips. He needed to be filled. He needed the relief.

“Michael, please,” he whimpered out.

“Have a little patience. Doesn’t this feel good?” His voice was next to his ear, making him shudder.

“It’s too much,” Alex panted.

“Oh but we’re just getting started,” Michael taunted.

Alex could see the flickering of the candle behind his eyelids. Michael’s finger traced over his jaw and chin, tilting his head back. Alex expected a kiss.

His arms yanked on the ropes as an intense burn settled in the hollow of his throat. He squeaked out a moan that was swallowed by Michael’s lips. His cock begged for stimulation as it twitched and leaked. The wax ran out from the dip in his throat and over his neck. Michael pulled away and dragged his fingers through the wax and over Alex’s collarbone.

The wax hadn’t cooled before the burned started on his sternum again. This time it ran all the way down to his navel and Alex couldn’t help but squirm. He heard Michael chuckle.

“Am I going to have to tie your legs down just to keep you still?” A hot drop splattered over his abs near his hips. He gasped and felt the rope rub welts into his skin as he pulled. Michael’s fingers, covered in hot wax, ran over his bicep and Alex’s hips jerked up again.

“I need you to fuck me Michael. Please, I’m begging.” Michael just repeated the same movement over his other arm.

“Not yet,” he said, voice sweeter than honey. Alex could visualize the smirk that he would be wearing. His tongue would be running over his canines, taunting him with the idea that he might bite him.

Another hot drop splattered on his hips and upper thighs. His legs shook as he tried to stay still. If he moved too much, the wax would run between his legs. He moaned as Michael poured a long line of heat over his other thigh and down to his knee. Alex moaned.

“Michael,” he whispered out, voice shaking.

His cock throbbed again and every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He imagined Michael between his legs as another pool of wax was poured over his thighs, closer to where his legs connected to his pelvis than before.

Alex called out as his hips rocked more, making the wax drip down and over his ass. The heat continued to burn through him and on his skin. He imagined Michael bending his knees back and thrusting into him raw.

Every rough movement would hit just the right place. He would fist his own cock until Michael replaced Alex’s hand with his own. He would bend over him before sinking his fangs into the mark and Alex would grab at his back, leaving red scratches.

“Alex,” Michael panted out next to his ear. Another hot drop hit his pelvis and Alex’s body spasmed.

“Fuck, Michael!” His cock jerked and cum shot over him, mixing with the still cooling wax. His orgasm moved through him in waves, all as Michael whispered in his ear.

“Good boy… good boy… All mine. You’re all mine…”

As Alex came down, the wax cracked on his skin with movement. His eyes fluttered open and he turned his head, looking for Michael. The other candles around the room made sharp angles on his face but he could still see the gentle smile.

Alex lifted his head as much as he could and Michael met him halfway, pressing their mouths together sweetly. Fangs caught his lip and he sighed happily. Michael stood slowly and undid the buckle on his belt. Alex drooled at the way he popped the button. He pushed his jeans down in full view of Alex who’s cock twitched again.

Precum glistened on the head of Michael’s cock as his wrapped his hand around himself and stroked a few times. Then he was moving to grab the lube from the dresser and slicking himself up with the hand not covered in wax. Alex rocked his hips slightly and Michael smiled as he settled between his legs.

He pressed two cool fingers against his hole and pushed them inside easily. Alex’s toes curled and he rolled his hips. Michael scissored his fingers a few times before pulling them out and pressing the head of his cock inside instead. Alex sighed and clenched his fists that were still restrained above him.

“Fuck baby. I’m not going to last long,” Michael said, running his hands over Alex’s thighs and hips. He rolled his hips again and looked up at him, pleading.

“That’s ok. Use me however you need.” Alex rolled his head to the side, making it clear that he really meant what he said. Whatever he needed. He glanced at Michael again, noting the glowing red of his eyes.

Michael thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside Alex. Alex’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan. He felt Michael bend over him and there was a tearing sound as his hands were freed.

As soon as his arms weren’t blocking the mark, Michael’s head was buried in his neck, kissing and licking the mark before biting. Alex’s eyes rolled back as he wrapped his arms around Michael, digging his nails into his skin.

Michael’s hips started to slam into him with little restraint. Alex could hardly make a noise as his own oversensitive cock rubbed against Michael’s abs. He dragged his nails down over Michael’s skin, feeling the growl it elicited from him.

Michael fucked him roughly as he licked away the blood from his throat. Alex could feel the throbbing as he did his best to match Michael’s thrusts. He moaned louder with every move and could feel a second orgasm building fast.

Michael’s fingers dug into his hips as he guided the movement of Alex’s hips. His tongue pressed the wounds closed before he sat up and grabbed Alex’s legs, bending them back so Alex was spread wide.

“Ah—fuck!” Alex grabbed himself and stroked, watching Michael’s face.

His heart raced as he watched Michael’s look of pure ecstasy. He was so attentive. So sweet. Smart. Snarky. Helpful. Devoted. Perfect. Loving…

Alex’s mind went blank as Michael adjusted his hips again to rub against the sweet spot on every thrust. He called out Michael’s name over and over again, more breathless every time until it was just noises of pleasure. Alex twisted his free hand into the sheets and gripped his own cock harder.

“Gunna… cum…” he managed to moan out between noises. Michael grunted above him and any rhythm he had left was gone as he slammed into him.

“Cum with me, baby,” Michael encouraged, breathless. A few hard thrusts later, Alex was shooting another line of cum onto his abs and chest as Michael filled him. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass and it only served to drag out both of their orgasms.

Eventually Michael pulled himself out and collapsed beside Alex. He removed the rope from Alex’s wrists but they were clearly bruised. Michael kissed the welts and held Alex’s hands to his chest as his eyes drifted closed.

Alex watched him, knowing he wasn’t asleep. He traced the lines of Michael’s face with his eyes. His heart thumped in his chest and he was sure Michael could hear it, though he never said anything.

The wax on Alex’s body cracked and fell off as he shifted closer to Michael. He gently tugged one of his hands out of Michael’s and ran his fingers over the scratchy stubble along his jaw and cheek. His eyes opened again and they just stared at each other for a moment.

Alex was the one to lean in, kissing him more gently than they ever had before. There was no rush and no desperation in the way their lips pressed together. Everything felt easy with Michael. Even though there was all this outside drama, being with Michael was the only thing that felt right now.

He thought back to old books and poems. Every description of falling in love was defined by a moment. Maybe it was sudden. Maybe it was slow. But this was his moment. In the way their lips moved, hands touched, and the completeness of his heart.

I love you.

#malex #vampire au #malex vampire au #malex fanfiction #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin/alex manes #michael guerin #alex manes

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Lingering Light

Author: @zettern

For: @nadisabug

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: fluffy confession

Author’s notes: I tried my best at being fluffy! I hope you enjoy it! :)

“Time passes so quickly.”

Two men sat outside the Jabberwock Island Library, with countless books scattered on a thin blanket. They spent the day together in silence, passing the time reading with an occasional conversation popping up. When they spoke, it was for shared information concerning the book in hand. They shared ideas and tossed around theories about the current state of the world. It was mostly about a world they no longer had access to, as they collectively decided to set their freedoms aside for the better. It was a permanent promise that was deserving, of course.

All the students cursed with the marking of the 77th class had nowhere else to go. No family to return to, no childhood friends and no other connections. They were simply wiped away from the face of the planet and the former students were left with each other. Although that was months ago, they had learned to grow accustomed to this normal.

The sun was falling, bathing the island with broken gold. Shade provided from the trees and garden shielded their eyes. It smelled faintly of sweat from the summer heat as well as the salty air from the beach. Two scents they have become well-acquainted with. And if a book was brought close enough, the moldy scent of old dog-eared pages would help in transporting them to a new world where there was more than an abandoned island.

Nagito and Hajime were sitting side by side, close enough to feel each other’s electric presence but far enough that they weren’t touching. Sweat was running down Hajime’s neck for two reasons. One: it was far too hot outside to not long for the modern air-conditioned room. Two: the setting sun was bouncing off Nagito, giving him an ethereal glow.

The corners of his lips were curled up softly as his eyes scanned the pages, the only escape from his own harsh reality. He didn’t bother to wipe the stray strands of hair that were partially blocking his vision. He was so entranced by the words, Hajime assumed he didn’t hear what he said mere moments ago. It was only during times like this when Nagito appeared to be at his happiest. Flicking through the pages in the silence that not even his luck cycle could disturb. All of this and Hajime couldn’t recall when he put his own book down to admire the man before him. What he wouldn’t give for Mahiru to capture this moment forever.

Their friendship had always been a rocky one, due to the unstable nature of their lives. But when they returned to the island, it was like Nagito reverted to the boy Hajime met on the beach in the simulation. He could easily recall the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore and the silhouette that stayed behind to keep him company. Hajime remembered the feeling of betrayal, the pain he experienced when he ran into the warehouse. He could never forget the lies and the truths all in the time they were locked in a simulation. He could never forget when he was the World Destroyer and the realization that Nagito desired nothing more than a peaceful life and to be loved. Sure the man was…odd about hope, but once Hajime recognized his struggles it made more sense.

It pained Hajime to think this burden of living the rest of their lives on Jabberwock Island was the closest thing to peace Nagito has had in years. This was true for all the inhabitants of the island, he supposed.

In this time, the two had gotten to understand each other better, writing over the hiccups caused by a stressful environment.

Nagito flipped the page of his book with his new arm. He released a soft sigh before resting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Frozen, Hajime had to remind himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It had grown to something more. Hajime’s face was no longer flushed from the heat. His heart was pounding in his chest and prayed Nagito wouldn’t hear it. Something Hajime wanted so badly to put into words to officiate whatever was going on between them. The wild clouds of Nagito’s hair tickled Hajime’s nose, threatening a sneeze. He was suddenly aware of how sweaty he had been all day.

Did Nagito take notice? Was he repulsed?

“It does.” Nagito said, folding in the page of his book and setting it aside.

“…What?” Hajime croaked. God, he sounded like a prepubescent boy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What?” At least it sounded passable this time.

“Time. It does go quickly. It’s been months since we returned to Jabberwock Island. So much has changed since then.” Nagito studied his robotic arm, waving his artificial fingers around. Hajime’s heart danced at the knowledge that Nagito wasn’t ignoring his words, not that he ever did. “And even so, you spend each day with someone like me instead of enjoying your time with the others. Have you grown tired of me yet, Hajime?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t appreciate your company.” Hajime shifted slightly enough to get more comfortable in his position. “You should know this by now.” He took a leap and rested his head atop Nagito’s. He felt the other man tense up and Hajime immediately questioned whether or not he made a mistake by doing this. The sun sank further down into the horizon. Hajime kept his eyes closed, reveling in the moment, never wanting to lose it. Nagito soon relaxed under his weight.

“I wonder what bad luck will come my way for having this.” Nagito whispered. “My apologies, Hajime. I shouldn’t be burdening you with the thought of my luck cycle.” It was at those words that Hajime lifted his head, losing the physical closeness he wanted to keep. He couldn’t stand it when Nagito spoke of himself that way. Like he was no more useful than a stray leaf in the wind.

“It’s not a burden!” He defended a little too enthusiastically. “…Besides, with everything that has happened in your life, don’t you think you have nothing but good luck waiting for you?” It was too idealistic of a claim. They both knew.

“That’s not exactly how my luck works, Hajime. I’m damned to be stuck in this cycle for the rest of my life. I’ve already come to terms with it.” Nagito sighed as he pulled away from Hajime. His greediness would only lead to bad luck after all.

“I k-know that!” Hajime turned, so that Nagito could turn around and look him straight in the eyes. “But with my talents…” He began. “My talents…can cancel out the bad luck…” He tried to continue but the words wouldn’t come out. His heart was pounding, threatening to break free at this point.

“The only way that could ever work is if you were constantly at my side. I doubt you’d want to bring that kind of misfortune upon yourself.” Nagito averted his gaze, choosing to focus on the flowers next to him. His prosthetic hand was digging into the dirt, fighting the urge to be wishful.

“…I wouldn’t mind.” Hajime finally dared to say part of what he always wanted to. The hint of the words he wanted to reciprocate before Nagito went and deceived everyone in the killing game.

“What could someone like me possibly have to offer to you?” Nagito finally looked up to meet Hajime’s eyes. Frantic at the implication of those words. “Someone as talented and popular as yourself has no need to waste time with trash.” He tugged at the sleeves of his worn jacket, curling into himself. It was always Hajime could be with someone better, Hajime should be with someone better or Hajime would be with someone different had they survived. It was never what he wanted.

Hajime reached out.

“You don’t have to offer anything!” He grasped his shoulders, Nagito could only stare at him wide-eyed. “Nagito, your presence alone is enough for me to be satisfied! How long is it going to take for you to understand that I care about you?” It grew silent. The only sounds came from the waves running onto the nearby shore and Nagito’s wild thoughts. Seconds ticked away, their gazes unwavering.

Hajime delicately took Nagito’s chin in his hand without thinking. He didn’t want Nagito to do what he always did and recoil into himself and his doubts. “I’ve grown to care about you so much it hurts.” Hajime’s voice was a tremor of an earthquake yet on the inside he felt the bellowing surge of a wave. “Every morning I wake up excited at the thought to spend time with you. I don’t care if we go the entire day without speaking, as long as you’re nearby I am satisfied.”

“How?” Nagito dropped his arms. “I have absolutely nothing to give.” He whispered. “I have no other purpose than to be used. Everything I have ever come to love, leaves me! I’m always left behind!” He was quivering like a lost dog on a rainy summer night. “Choosing to remain here with me is nothing but misfortune waiting to happen.” Did Nagito truly think that alone would scare Hajime away? They’ve been through hell already, so he was going to have to try harder than that.

“Then it’s a misfortune I want for the rest of my life.” Hajime gently cupped Nagito’s face in his hands. His eyes were brighter than all the stars beginning to sprinkle the sky. The hope in his eyes was clouded by a thick fog of doubt. Hajime wanted nothing more than to embrace him in this moment and remain that way for all eternity to clear any doubt.

“I can’t avoid these feelings any longer, Nagito. There is nothing I want more than to see you live an ordinary life and to spend it with you.” This was true from the moment they left the Neo World Program, it has been Hajime’s grandest wish. He wanted to wake up and see Nagito smiling for the right reasons filled with hope for a better future. He wanted to kiss away all the negativity just so they can finally have this chance to be happy.

Nagito stared into Hajime’s eyes in disbelief. Hajime could hear the shaky breaths escaping his lips. He swallowed. “You said you were in love with the hope sleeping within me. So why can’t I do the same?”

Nagito audibly gasped. “Hajime…” And before he had the chance to shut himself off in an attempt to avoid the situation, Hajime pressed their foreheads together. “Will you let me?” Hajime asked. The question seemed to work as his shaking slowly subsided and turned into soft nods. Nagito leaned further into the touch. Hajime watched as his eyes fluttered shut. “Is… this really alright..?” Hajime tucked stray hairs away from Nagito’s face, lightly grazing his cheek in the process.

“Of course it is.” Hajime replied as he closed his eyes. He slowly inched forward, his mind racing.

Their lips met. This was something Hajime had dreamt of for what seemed like ages. From Nagito’s fear to trying not to grin like an idiot during their first kiss. Nothing could compare to the actuality of it. And how much better it felt to physically experience it instead of spending sleepless nights wondering about it.

Nagito’s lips were softer than he imagined. Hajime was near to melting on the spot as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nagito shuddered and slowly curled his fingers around Hajime’s waist, pulling him closer, never wanting it to come to an end. Time had stopped to listen to their dazed thoughts.

When they pulled apart, Nagito whispered three words that were music to Hajime’s ears. A song he would never tire of listening to. “I hope that’s okay.” He added.

“Always.” He felt so choked up and free.

The sun had long since disappeared. They were enjoying each other’s company in the moonlight filled with new promises. Books were forgotten, tossed aside for another time. Hajime was smiling ear to ear like an idiot as he listened to Nagito explain what he was reading earlier. No distance was placed between them. Nagito made sure, albeit hesitantly, to close any form of distance. And Hajime might as well have been soaring at the sound of Nagito’s voice. His presence. His steady breaths. His lips. The messy hair that got too close to his nose. The green jacket that he wore every day despite the heat. The memory of waking up on the beach. Nagito’s first attempt at a confession. The World Destroyer. Nagito finally waking up from the simulation. The boat ride back to Jabberwock Island.

Hajime loved and cherished it all.

The two lovers spent the rest of the night recounting all they have been through that brought them to this exact moment in their lives. And before they realized, the sun was creeping up from behind. They took it as a signal to pack up their belongings and return to their rooms. Not a wink of sleep and both men had never felt so awake.

That dawn, they walked hand in hand to the cottages for some well deserved peace.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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kaaras-adaar-a · 4 years ago

Text

He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

Characters: Kaaras Adaar, The Iron Bull Post-Trespasser Warning: Contains adult themes, profanity

The air was like ice to his skin, frost puffing from his nostrils with every breath as the sun had barely risen. He could even feel his lips sting as he licked them with a warm tongue, tasting the sharpness of frost. He could smell it, too. The scent of home. Ferelden. It was hard to describe what the cold air tasted and smelled like. And no, it wasn’t the scent of dog, like everyone claimed. Sure, Fereldans certainly liked their hounds, especially their mabari war hounds, but mabari were not something one saw on a regular basis. They were special hounds, bred for war. The only dogs that would be seen here were common hunting hounds or retrievers. And right now, there wasn’t a single one in sight, not that one could see far considering the thick fog that crossed the fields and hills.

The sharp chill caused Kaaras’ arm to ache, where the anchor had once been. He was still getting used to it, even though it had been months since he’d seen Solas, since he’d been in Halamshiral… since he’d been the Inquisitor.

The thought made him feel hollow on the inside, like a large part of himself was missing. He’d allowed the last few years to consume him, his title, his purpose Now, without it… it was difficult to lead a normal life once more.

Oh, there was nothing normal about Kaaras Adaar. He’d been a war hero, he’d been the man to stop Corypheus and his demon army, and the world would never forget his tale. But it still felt so strange to be away from it all. The companions, even if they were never truly too far away from him. He could always trust Leliana knowing of his whereabouts, Cassandra close in tow. Cullen had also returned to Ferelden, so it was easy enough to catch up with him. The rest, letters were common enough between them, and it wasn’t like Kaaras could ever take his ‘uniform’ off. How could he when Thedas still needed him? They might not know it, but something much bigger was coming, and when the time came, the Inquisition would be there--he would be there.

Kaaras knew, even before the Exalted Council, that he could never abandon the Inquisition, that he could never abandon Thedas. So let the public think that they had disbanded, let them believe that they had put away their swords, but they were still working hard, putting together a force to fight when the time would come. After all, it was not in his nature to simply give up.

He had given the Inquisition his all. He had served Thedas, helped those in need. He couldn’t abandon that now, not when he knew that they would need them again. The choice to disband had been one of the hardest things in his life, and yet… he knew it was right. He knew that Ferelden had a point. So be the hero while they needed him to be, and put the sword down when the time was right. They had served their purpose, they had defeated Corypheus and restored order. Let them remember the Inquisition for the good deeds that they had done, not for the corruption and power that would soon devour it if they allowed Solas and his people to infiltrate. It was the safest thing to do, but the right thing to do by everyone else as well. His companions, his soldiers, they had paid their price. He could not take them from their lives anymore, their families and friends.

Resting his hand against the wooden railing of the balcony, his fingers brushed at the icicles that had formed. Snow was yet to come, but it would be here soon; he could feel it in the air. A few more weeks, perhaps, and the entirety of all he could see across the fields would be covered in white, and the poor, little tavern that they were in would be having it rough. Not many tourists or traders came this way for holidays. A few stray travellers maybe, such as themselves, but that would be all. Such was the life of Fereldans. A hardy bunch, but often struggling to make a living.

Kaaras was used to it. His whole life, he’d had to work hard, harder than most considering his grey skin and horns. People never much liked to give him a chance, and they either stared at him in fear or awe. Sometimes it was both. He’d made it this far, though, and he’d heard just about every insult that could be thrown in his direction. After a while, his skin grew thicker, but it didn’t take much to know that he was soft beneath it all.

The view before him was simple but beautiful. He should have been colder than he was, but this was the weather he’d grown up in, and he was far better at tolerating the cold than he’d ever been at dealing with the heat. Even now, he stood outside on the balcony in nothing but a pair of woollen socks and a gown wrapped around him, his shins victim to the cold chill.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts as two strong hands made their way around his waist from behind. It startled him, but he was held in place as he felt Bull’s body press up against his.

“You’d better have some pants on…” he teased, pressing himself against the thick of Bull’s chest.

Bull laughed. Of course he had pants on, but only because it was so fucking cold out here. “Where’d the fun in that be?” The Iron Bull replied, a hand moving down Kaaras’ arm and overlapping his lover’s knuckles. “It’d be a pleasant view, to you and everyone else. Better than this damn cold.” Bull grumbled to himself then. “And I thought Orlais was cold…”

“It is,” Kaaras chuckled, though he also looked back just to make sure Bull was actually wearing something. Thank the Maker he was. Nobody was up yet anyway--otherwise Kaaras probably would have properly dressed himself as well. He supposed being with Bull had made him a tad bit more confident, although he still didn’t like the idea of most of his skin showing on any given day. He was truly a private individual.

Bull’s thick fingers intertwined with his own on top of the cold wood as he felt warm lips brush up against the side of his neck, just behind his ear. It tickled and had his cheeks warming, a tingle going all through his body. It didn’t take much to get him going, but he adored Bull’s affections when he was wanting to give it.

“I can still smell the oils from last night's bath on you. How is it that you always smell so damn good, Kadan?” Another hand moved over Kaaras’ shoulder and down beneath what remained of his mangled arm, wrapping around the front to pull the former Inquisitor into an embrace of sorts. Bull had gotten used to waking in a bed beside the other qunari now, and some mornings still caught him by surprise. Pleasant surprise of course. This had never been a life he thought he could lead--a real romantic relationship, one he had found love with. One he could feel so devoted to outside of the Qun. Now… now, the man in his arms was his life, the one he fought for and beside. There were still days where Bull felt himself a monster, a savage with no control, especially ever since he had been stated Tal’Vashoth, but there was one constant in his life, and that was Kaaras. He was what kept him grounded, just as much as Bull was for Kaaras when he needed support and someone to keep his feet steady.

The blush on Kaaras’ cheeks only lingered, a coy smile spreading across thin lips. Even after the last few years, Bull still made him blush as if it were his first time. Turning over his shoulder, he gently pressed his head against Bull’s before he planted a soft peck onto his lips in response.

“I do it just to rile you up,” he jested, though gasped when Bull pressed himself up against him and pinned him to the balcony. If his blush had been coy before, it was certainly flustered now, long ears flicking downward. He would have caught himself with both hands before, but instead, the limb twitched, like it was going to, but nothing came of it and he was a little lopsided because of it.

It made him feel uneasy, the lack of control. Not because of Bull--it had nothing to do with his lover--but because he’d always been such an independent person. Now he felt… hopeless at times. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like asking for help (although that was true, too), it was more the fact that Kaaras hated to feel like he was burdening others.

It had taken a long time for Kaaras to come to terms with his dismemberment. The mental and physical struggles had been hard to overcome, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely over it. If it weren’t for Bull’s reassurance (being disabled himself), and Dagna’s hard efforts into making him a prosthetic, he wasn’t sure how far he’d come from it all. Kaaras knew what it was like to be in a dark place from his adolescence, and he pushed himself to never fall back into that darkness. Maker, it had been hard. Without the strength of his lover, he may have fallen.

Mostly, Kaaras missed being able to hold Bull, to feel him in the palm of his hand, to brush his fingers against his skin or… something else. Clearly Bull noticed the reaction, because the next thing he felt was a strong hand gently moving across the muscle on his arm, just above where his elbow was.

“Hey, you know you’re perfect the way you are, yeah?”

Kaaras turned around so he could face Bull now, a saddened smile across his eyes. “I know you say that…”

“Yeah, I do.” He lifted Kaaras’ hand and pressed the man’s knuckles to his lips. Bull also knew that him saying it wouldn’t bring Kaaras’ limb back, nor would it make him feel like he was perfect or complete. Words didn’t always make everything better, hell, sometimes they made shit worse. But Bull was here to let Kaaras know that he wasn’t worthless because he’d been butchered by some ancient bastard. He supposed he could have been angrier, Solas could have killed his lover. Then he’d be everything the Qun taught him he’d be: a savage monster, ready to kill. Alas, he’d not been with Solas those last few moments before he disappeared, but something told the warrior that Solas was on a mission to destroy himself. And if he didn’t, he’d be there to do it for him.

“And I mean it when I say it.” Bull’s other hand moved to cup the stubble-covered cheek, a thumb brushing over the scar on the mage’s bottom lip. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Kadan. The bravest, and kindest.” Hell, he was willing to forgive Solas when he knew he’d never have that kind of strength, let alone kindness.

“Sexiest, too…”

Kaaras breathed a laugh at that. “I think the cold’s gotten to you.”

Bull smirked. “I’m feeling pretty hot actually, if you get my drift.” The warrior wiggled his brows, the patch that usually covered his marred eye back inside, having been discarded somewhere last night. That was a future issue he’d deal with. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on the beautiful man that stood before him, wrapped in a tedious gown that should be stripped off immediately so he could devour every inch of him from head to toe.

“Why don’t we get out of this cold before my nipples snap off, and before you get frostbite on your tootsies.”

Kaaras looked down. “I was smart enough to wear socks,” he pointed out, raising a brow as he eyed Bull’s shirtlessness. It was no one's fault but Bull’s that he was cold. Bull grumbled in response, which only made him respond with an amused look.

“Well, we could stand out here all morning and argue who’s more dressed than the other, and how damn cold it is, or we could go inside and lay by a warm fire. I’m pretty sure I know which one I’d rather do.”

Kaaras chuckled, his hand moving to Bull’s and holding it. “Alright, alright,” he smiled, jutting his chin in the direction of the door. Bull happily opened it and stepped back inside, Kaaras following. The difference between inside and out was stark. Even if the fire that had been going last night was nothing but embers now, the temperature was still much warmer.

He felt Bull’s hand leave his as he picked up a few logs and put them in, stoking the fire to restart. Despite being around magic for so long, Bull still didn’t rely on it. Nor did Kaaras, if he were honest. He had always been taught to never rely solely on his magical abilities. If he was stuck in a sticky situation, one which would get him into trouble, or one with magebane, then it would not bode well for him to rely upon his talents as a mage. Even as a skilled mage, Kaaras had always used it only when he needed to--aside from his training and meditation. It was no surprise that Bull stoked the fire without asking for his assistance, and Kaaras hardly took any kind of offence.

Moving to the bed, he took a seat at the edge, fingers brushing thick furs. The tavern was no fancy palace or estate that he may have been used to spending his last few years in. In fact, this was far more like the years before being Inquisitor. It was humble, cosy and if Kaaras were honest, comfortable. This was his core being. There was little more Fereldan one could get than feeling the furs on the beds, the fire bouncing off old, wooden walls. All he needed was a slice of cheese and a warm cuppa.

His eyes watched as Bull awakened the fire, just watching as his lover moved, the flicker of light off thick muscle as the sun began to rise above the treeline outside now. Strong, mentally and physically, but surprisingly soft Bull was. He might never admit it, but he was far more romantic than he gave himself credit for. It had been a large risk for him to accept Bull’s company that one evening over three years ago. He had been terrified, terrified of getting hurt, of making some kind of a mistake, but Bull had proven to be one of the most caring and compassionate people he’d ever known. He was hardly the monster that he made himself out to be, the thing. He was a person just like anyone else, and so much more than that.

“There. That’s better.” Bull stood back up as the fire roared back to life from the fresh kindling and logs. As he stood, he cracked his back and stretched his arms before he turned to see Kaaras on the bed.

“You okay, Kadan?”

Ruby eyes looked up to catch Bull’s eye. “Hm? Yes, I’m…” Kaaras hummed through his nostrils and shook his head. “Never better, really. I’ve got a warm fire before me, a comfortable bed and most importantly, you as my company.” He outstretched his arm, beckoning for Bull to come and lay down with him. To spend the morning together before they were back on the road. Moments like this had felt rare when he was the Inquisitor, a calm moment he could share with his lover. Now, whilst he could, he wanted to take every chance he could with Bull. To never miss an opportunity, a moment to love and cherish him. He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

It took mere seconds for Bull to be on the bed beside him, laying down facing one another. Bull propped himself up onto his elbow so his horn wouldn’t scratch at the head of the bed, or kink his neck too much.

A large hand moved to cup Kaaras’ cheek, Bull looking between each of those deep, red eyes. “You helped me find my purpose without the Qun, Kadan. I’ll help you find yours without the Inquisition.”

Kaaras’ eyes lowered for a moment, watching Bull’s lips so he didn’t have to look him in the eye, until Bull’s hand moved and propped his chin up so he had no choice. He wanted to say that that had been different, but it hadn’t, had it. They had both lost a part of themselves. For Bull, it had been so much more. He’d lost his home, his culture, his identity--even if he’d been living as a Tal’Vashoth for years. The reality of no longer being welcome, no longer having those contacts to a place called home? Kaaras only felt part of that, but the Inquisition had become a home, a family to him. Perhaps that made him a weak leader, too compassionate and comfortable. But he missed it all, and would continue to do so for a very long time.

Awkwardly, he shuffled himself so that his hand could take Bull’s. He should have attached his prosthetic, but he wanted to be warmer before he did that. The cold made his arm ache and the skin was stiff.

“I believe you.” He meant what he said. His hand moved lower, tracing down the cord around Bull’s neck to feel the smoothness of the dragon tooth necklace that hung between his thick bosoms. “No matter how far apart, we’ll always be together.”

“Damn straight.” Bull pressed a kiss against the man’s lips, pulling him closer and tangling their legs. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that shit, but he sure as hell believed in Kaaras Adaar.

#Adaar #Iron Bull #the iron bull #Kadan #Captain to Captain #Adaaribull #Post trespasser #My fics #my art #// I'd been sitting on this one for months but thanks to some inspo from Tas I finally decided to work on it today #// Just a quiet post trespasser moment between Kaaras and Bull :3

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

The Falls

Summary: Arthur and Y/N reach Gotham City Hall. Two weeks later, they share a taste of newly-wedded bliss.

Warnings: Swearing, Adult situations

Words: 5,953

A/N: This request came from @jokerownsmysoul. I'm grateful for it - it was a real challenge. I can't wait for more! I also need to extend a hearty thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her support. I've been going through a rough period, which is why my output has slowed. She encouraged me, listened to and helped me work through my doubts, and gave me great feedback. Also, send love to @howdylilflower for reading through this, sharing her thoughts, and pointing out my obvious errors!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Gotham City Hall was, to put it briefly, imposing. Statues of former mayors and city founders stood on either side of its massive staircase. The Corinthian capitals of the portico's columns rose three stories above the entrance. The glass and copper doors, made heavy by their vertical, iron security bars, provided a sense of elite exclusion, regardless of it being a municipal building.

As Y/N and Arthur dashed up the marble steps, their buoyant laughter filling the air, none of that mattered. All that pomp and circumstance was immaterial compared to the leap they were about to make. The leap she hadn't expected that morning but had craved for months. The leap into wedlock and all the dedication, trust, and responsibility that went with it.

The Office of Licensure and Registration was far busier than she'd assumed - it was set to close in half an hour. Two clerks worked the winding line of people dealing with the unremarkableness of bureaucracy. A woman complained about the cost to renew a dog license. ("But he's only a mutt!") At the window, a man was being told he needed to head down the hall and to the left. One guy was muttering to himself about what he was going to have for dinner once he was "out of this hellhole." The atmosphere, admittedly, was not ideal.

However, the love of her life standing beside her, clutching her hand a tad too hard, made it perfect. She examined Arthur's profile as he stared ahead. The joy and relief hadn't left his visage after she'd accepted his proposal. Pensiveness hid in the flare of his nostrils, though. In the repeated clench of his jaw. In the quiet bounce of one knee.

She pursed her lips. Taking off up the street and demanding to be married straight away had been pushy. Under no circumstance did she want him to feel pressured, especially not when it came to this. But, she considered, it was natural to be anxious. And he'd appeared ecstatic, too, nearly yanking her onto his lap on the bench at Lemmars Park.

Tucking back the stray, chestnut strand by his temple, she murmured, "I'm the happiest woman on earth right now." She gently loosened her fingers from his grip and hugged his slim waist. With a bashful duck of his chin and quick puff, his arm went across her shoulders. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes told her his tight-lipped smile was sincere. That he needed this as much as she did. That he'd be all right.

The clerk, whose nametag read "Kyle," was polite and indifferent. Leaning on the counter, they hastily retrieved their IDs from her purse and Arthur's wallet. She rattled off her social security number from memory, while he had to find his card. After paying a fifteen-dollar fee, a slew of typing, and Y/N promising to provide a copy of her divorce papers, Kyle handed them a fountain pen and beige piece of parchment.

Floral borders decorated the edges, an art deco design out of the twenties. The title "Marriage License" leapt out, printed in a font belonging to a carnival barker's wagon. Their names, cities of birth, and birthdays were listed. A final paragraph stated the following: "The undersigned are both of sound mind, are consenting adults, and willingly commit to the bonds of matrimony." They merely had to sign on the respective "bride" and "groom" lines to make it official.

Y/N bent to sign the paper without delay. Not wanting to smudge the ink, she forced her hand to go slower than usual. Arthur grazed her knuckles as she passed him the pen. Only a couple seconds went by, then he jotted his name, a scraggly "A. Fleck." She heard his breath catch as the clerk notarized the document.

The paper needed to be mailed to central office for processing, Kyle explained (which Y/N already knew). A photocopy was made so she could change her name. The official marriage certificate could be picked up in approximately three weeks. To her surprise, he said, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Fleck" before closing the window's shade.

And that was it. They were husband and wife in less time than it took to register a new car.

Exhilaration fluttered in her abdomen. Pumped its way from her heart to the tips of her toes as they strolled arm-in-arm towards the closest subway station. Y/N suggested they grab a bite to eat to celebrate, maybe go to Kao Wah. But Arthur stated he wasn't hungry. "I'd like to be home. With my- with my wife." He averted his gaze as he said the last words, the tip of his tongue darting to his top lip as if to the savor their flavor.

Given how much he'd learned about traditions from old movies, she'd suspected he'd try to carry her over the threshold. She was grateful he didn't. Instead, he pressed her into the coats and jackets hanging on the wall. Kissed her with his entire body. "I need to make love to you," he uttered into her neck. The softness of the euphemism was strikingly different from his urgency as he unbuttoned her blouse. He'd have likely taken her in the entranceway if she hadn't led him to the bedroom.

The intensity with which he fucked her into the mattress hadn't been experienced since he'd shown up at her apartment drenched, lost, and unable to fully accept she loved him. But this moment was distinct. Although the lines of his face were taut, his eyes were filled with ardor. He entwined their fingers, crushed her to him, drove her hand into the pillow. "Say you're mine," he implored, the jerks of his pelvis deep and uneven. "Please. Say you're all mine."

It wasn't like her to give herself to someone. To allow that person to own her. She'd tried that before; it hadn't been good for either of them. Yet, she'd pledged her fidelity to Arthur barely two hours ago. She knew what his request meant. He didn't want to change or dominate her. He simply needed to hear her answer. To know he was no longer alone in the world and wouldn't be for the rest of his life, even if he doubted.

Caressing the expanse of his back and his distended shoulder, she responded. "Of course, I'm yours, Arthur." The tip of his nose met hers, and she savored the smile he pressed against her cheek. "Of course, I'm yours."

She absentmindedly played with his hair. Holding him to her breasts, she went over everything she had to do the following day. Having a plan calmed her, aided her in thinking straight. And the list she was making was a pleasure because everything on it involved him. "I have to call the landlord to add you to the lease. Go to the DMV to get my name changed. Add you to my insurance at work. Oh, we need to combine our bank accounts, too." She peeked at the top of his head. "I have a feeling I'll remember to write 'Mrs. Fleck' easier than '1983' when the new year arrives."

The emerging rigidness of Arthur's frame and the burps that suddenly left him alerted her to his tumult. He pushed himself off her, swung his legs over the side of the bed as guffaws ripped their way from his throat. She scurried behind him to see his palm hover above his ribs as he covered his mouth with the other.

It had been weeks since his condition had flared up around her. Even longer since he'd tried and failed to hide it. Acceptance of his affliction was a concept that was sometimes hard for him to accept; her kindness and love couldn't erase thirty-five years of distress. But he had gotten better at believing it and she was proud of him. Not wanting any of his progress to be lost (especially not on their wedding night), she helped him through it, as usual. Kissed his bicep. Reminded him to take deep, even breaths. Blessedly, the attack didn't last long.

He was wringing his hands, the shaking of his head almost imperceptible. "What if I-" He spoke lowly, fear emitted with every syllable. "What if I wake up in Arkham? Or taking care of Penny again?" Y/N continued to listen as she searched for the best reply. "I never thought I'd have what I wanted." A humorless chuckle as he swiped his nose. "I don't want it to go away."

She wondered if what he was saying was due to trepidation or illnesses. Then she realized the differentiation was irrelevant. What mattered was soothing him. Letting him know it was all right. And real. Slowly, she knelt on the floor in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere," she confirmed, cupping his weathered cheeks. "I adore you." Smiling, she claimed his lips. "I'm your wife."

His toothy grin caused her pulse to skip, and he drew her to his chest. "I'm your husband."

"There's no one else I'd rather be married to."

Laying on the mattress, he closed his eyes. She stroked his lean pectorals, delighting in his resulting sighs. Once the tension in his sinews seemed to ebb, once he looked relaxed, he made a thoughtful sound. "Are we gonna have a honeymoon?"

~~~~~

For as long as he could remember, Arthur had ridden buses. They were usually crowded, stuffed full of humanity. A cushioned, plastic seat was free about a third of the time. Apart from the engine, the rides were fairly quiet. Everyone wanted to get to their destinations instead of conversing. He'd gathered that from observing them. From trying to figure out how to make a connection.

The tour bus he was currently on felt like the pinnacle of luxury, with its padded, fabric chairs and tinted windows. A newer adventure movie played on the tiny television built into the ceiling, its volume so low he could make out only half the dialogue. There was a bathroom (a bathroom!) in the rear, cleaner than any public one around the city. Passengers were few. A young couple sat across the aisle, playfully teasing each other. Sights like that had sparked melancholy in the past. Now the corner of his mouth quirked.

He'd yearned to get out of the city. To go somewhere warm, beautiful, and calm. To have space but not loneliness, which was readily available at home. The postcards he'd kept in his locker at work and on his refrigerator had been a feeble attempt to keep the hope of leaving alive. A co-worker had asked about them once. Arthur, seeking to cover-up his vulnerability in a room full of tough guys, had mumbled a quick, "They're just pictures."

California's distance from Gotham had made it a promised land. He would have liked to walk its shores. They had to be cleaner than those of the city. Meet the people there. They were likely kinder due to the sunniness of the state's weather.

He'd lain on his worn sofa or written in his journal, particularly on chilly nights, fantasizing about playing ukulele on the beach with a pretty Hawaiian girl. The light shining off her tan skin, a contrast to his own pallor. The sway of her hips while she danced the hula would match the rhythm of his novice strumming. After a shallow dip in the ocean, they'd make love in the sand. The sun would be setting to their left. A campfire would burn bright on the right. It would have been great.

But the woman currently dozing on his shoulder made the reality he was experiencing finer.

It had been difficult for him to admit his disappointment upon learning Y/N hadn't thought of a honeymoon. The notion had been unimportant to her, as unimportant as having a wedding. When they'd married two weeks ago, she'd said, in her usual, casual manner, "You're my husband and I'm your wife and that's fine." He'd believed he'd gotten her meaning - that frills and fusses were unnecessary, so long as they were partners. But his chest had ached all the same. He'd awaited the opportunity to let out the old romantic in him for years. Those frills and fusses were crucial to him.

The brochure for Niagara Falls had been one of many in the travel agency's window. Its bright blues and greens had caught his eye when he'd passed by on the way home from therapy. He'd heard of the tourist spot on television. Weekend trips were awarded as prizes on game shows. A magician may have gone over them in a barrel. It was supposed to be the honeymoon capital of the world. And it was only four hours from home. He'd figured it would be easy to sell her on the idea.

He'd shown her the pamphlet as soon as she walked through the door, prattling with anticipation as she slipped off her heels. "There's a Skywheel. We've been on the Ferris wheel as Amusement Mile but this one's taller." He'd pointed at a picture while taking her coat. "There are a lot of restaurants. And a town we can walk in..."

Trailing off, he'd lifted one shoulder. "I know you've done all this before. A honeymoon, I mean." His brows pinched. "But not with me. I just want-" The interruption of Y/N's lips had stilled him, the twine of her fingers in his hair switching the racing of his brain to the pounding of his heart. Once they'd parted, the affection in her eyes reassured him.

"That's wonderful suggestion," she'd said. "We'll call a hotline for motel recommendations after dinner. I'm sure I can wrangle a free Friday from Phil." Her eyelashes had fluttered against his neck and she'd snorted. "You should have seen his face when I changed my name. And told him you'd be joining me on every business trip."

The memory made him feel fuzzy in spots he hadn't known existed until she'd seeped into them.

It was early evening, cold, and raining when they arrived. Y/N held her pop-up umbrella over them as he retrieved their shared suitcase. Thank goodness the stroll from the bus depot and to their lodgings was short. Only shallow splashes got on their pants during their scurry up the sidewalk.

Arthur had chosen the Honeymoon City Hotel for a few reasons. The ad had promised a view of the falls from every room, which he'd thought charming. A special newlywed's suite had been offered, Jacuzzi, cable television, and free breakfast included. And the place's corny name. Its silliness had touched the part of him that had bought a rose when he'd had no clue what he was doing, having dinner at a woman's apartment like a regular man. The part that compelled him to impulsively grab her hand while they stirred pots on the stove. The part that could, every so often, envision a brighter future for himself because he had her.

The motel, however, stated there was a problem. The room had been double-booked, a mistake blamed on a new employee having forgotten to note their reservation. The other guests had checked in earlier and couldn't be moved.

Having had a plethora of first days, Arthur understood what it was like to be new on the job. But he was still irritated. He asked where they were supposed to stay, then muttered to himself. He didn't want to be upset on their special weekend. Graciously, Y/N patted his arm and stepped in. He self-soothed with nicotine and noted how, in her kind but direct style, she negotiated a stay in one of the business suites and a ten percent refund. The front desk person told them their bag would be in their room.

They were also given a coupon for the nearby revolving restaurant. He'd been intrigued by the mention of it in his brochure, but he'd assumed it was too expensive. It was just beyond the Canadian border in Skyfall Tower. Because of the discount and no passports being needed, they decided to catch a cab and go.

Though Arthur usually didn't eat a lot, they opted for the buffet. He'd thought it a better value, and it would allow him to try new dishes without worrying he'd be stuck with something he didn't like. The novelty of the made-to-order stir-fry felt opulent. And it was fun adding broccoli, carrots, and mushrooms, but no water chestnuts because their texture was bizarre. Y/N appeared to enjoy the chicken Kiev and quiche, going back for a second helping of the latter.

Gazing out at the panorama provided by the windows surrounding them, Arthur titled his head. Droplets ran down the pane of glass, obscuring the view. The multi-color illumination of the falls were hazy from the rain. The plaque at the entrance had stated they were fifty-five stories up. In Gotham, he'd never been worth enough to go above the tenth floor. He wondered how fast they were spinning. He couldn't feel the momentum, but their position had changed slightly during dinner.

In his peripheral vision, Y/N was licking the rest of her chocolate mousse off a spoon. Nonchalantly, as if she didn't know the effect it would have on him. "This was almost worth the mistake the motel made," she said. But she winced as she straightened, put her palm on her stomach. "I'm not going to be able to move for the rest of the night."

Rolling his eyes and giving a half-smirk, he stood and guided her out of her seat. "You just need to walk a little." He slipped her jacket around her back. "Come on."

~~~~~

Y/N tried to stifle her laughter at Arthur's bewilderment. The room was...not what either of them had anticipated. (And a reminder why she was dubious about motels that had silly names.) Saying it left something to be desired was being generous.

Brown wood grain paneling, too dark to be considered cozy, was on the walls. Two twin beds, about three feet apart, were on the right. She chose the one closest to the windows, and it creaked and groaned as she sat on it. ("I hope the walls are thicker than they look.") Dim lamps with avocado green shades were on the nightstands in the middle. A thirty-two-inch television sat on the bureau across from the footboards. The room's saving grace was a fireplace in the back corner.

He popped his head into the bathroom, stated the shower was smaller than theirs, and grumbled that there was no whirlpool bath. She did not mourn that loss. The couple of times she'd used one, the pumps and jets had been loud and distracting. Besides. They were bound to test one out eventually.

Arthur made his way to the acrylic curtains and opened them. "I see...a parking lot." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket and sighed. "This wasn't what I pictured."

She knew he'd blame himself because he'd picked the place, which was ridiculous. They'd both agreed to it. Disappointment and guilt on their honeymoon? That wouldn't do. "Vacations never go as planned. That's why you return home more drained than when you left." Reaching behind her, she flipped on the radio. Searched for and found a station playing upbeat music. Kept the volume at a level where the notes of "The Hustle" were barely audible but could still cheer. She stood and flipped back the covers. "Well, the sheets are clean. Help me push these together."

Chuckling, he brought the lamps she'd unplugged to the nearby desk, then moved the nightstands out of the way. There were four or so inches between the mattresses when the bed frames met, but they'd make the most if it. The ease with which he'd moved his bed against hers impressed her, prompted her to squeeze her thighs together.

While Arthur stuck his head out the window for a smoke, Y/N got to work. She dug out the sparkling wine she'd packed (not champagne, which he found too sour) and unwrapped the plastic cups by the ice bucket. After screwing off the top and pouring them both a serving, she stripped to her bra and panties, a lacy dark green set she'd bought for the trip. Then she tip-toed to him. "Mr. Fleck, would you do me the honor of starting the hearth?"

He flicked his cigarette, stood, and turned to her. The desire and love in his intent stare as it roamed up her body, and the softening of his features made her blush. She looked at the brown carpet demurely. "I only packed lace."

The raging flames were half a yard away, a yellow and orange glow illuminating them both. She traced his spine to the beads of sweat gathering in the small of his back. They'd begun mere minutes ago, but she was already light-headed. Not only from the satisfaction of him repeatedly filling her, the joy of joining with him entirely. But also from the blazing heat.

She focused on the drop perspiration rolling down his forehead to his nose, then felt it fall onto her neck. "Arthu-" The last letter was stolen by his lips, the tip of his tongue teasing hers. She broke off, gasping. "Can we take a break?"

Blinking at her, he stopped, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "A break?"

Gently, she pushed at his hips and nodded. "I feel like I'm going to melt. And not in the good way."

He left the grip of her body carefully and went to the knob next to the fireplace. "I think it's on a timer." She watched his grimace as he attempted to turn it counterclockwise. "It won't budge."

Y/N scooted away from the fire, rolled onto her side, and grabbed her mostly full cup. "We'll have to wait it out." He pouted at her and she laughed. "Hey, waiting will make the quenching sweeter." Taking a sip, she beamed up at him. "I don't think I told you how I got to Gotham."

There was a pause before he swiped back his damp locks. "What do you mean? It was your old job." He stretched to lie beside her, propped on his forearm.

"That's true but there's more to it." Entwining their calves, she draped an arm over his hip so she could caress the modest curve of his rear. "I used to get groceries every Tuesday in Missouri - the shop was further out, so I couldn't go and get a couple of ingredients, like you and I do." She turned onto her back, surveyed the off-white popcorn ceiling. "It would be empty. Lines were short. New stock would have come in.

"I always bought three newspapers for the help wanted section: the Daily Planet, the Toronto Star, and the Gotham Journal. One week I had to work late and go on a Thursday, and the store was out of the Journal." She giggled and shook her head. "I was so annoyed. I'd avoided the Gotham Globe because it looked like a trashy tabloid. But I settled."

The skim of his fingertips across her belly was a series of tender, repeated lines. Her gaze flicked to his, her smile breaking her face wide open. "That's where I found the ad for Shaw and Associates." She brought his knuckles to her mouth. "That annoyance is what got me my job. Allowed me to move to Gotham." She grasped his chin, ran her thumb along his deepening dimple. "What led me to you." Arching a brow, she gave a little shrug. "It's almost enough to make me believe there's a reason for everything. Not quite. But almost."

The concentration in the lines of his forehead told Y/N he was trying to find the right way to express himself. He gave it a go. "You're my reason."

She winced. It was a conversation they'd often had. While she appreciated what he said, held every word in her heart, he tended to aggrandize her and not give himself proper credit for how well he was doing. For going to treatment, for trying different medications. For being honest. She was still finding the kindest, most effective ways to correct those notions. To emphasize they were equals, through and through. "Arthur, I can't be your only reason."

"That's not what I meant." He rubbed the side of his face. Sitting up, he hugged his legs to his chest and his eyelids fluttered shut. "I don't hate myself as much as I used to. Not every day."

He fidgeted with the carpet. Y/N put her palm on his foot, traced the tendons of his ankle. Tried to help bolster him to confide whatever he wanted. "My mother would say she was the one who knew my purpose. That she didn't mind my laugh, because I was happy all the time." Scoffing, he took Y/N's proffered cup. "If she told me I wasn't funny or I did something wrong-" He swallowed hard and finished her wine.

She got it. Penny, along with his experiences in and perceptions of Gotham, had hammered into him that he was hard to love. An egregious, groundless lie. The pain underlying what he'd disclosed settled in her stomach, a dull ache for what he'd lived through. She was about to speak when he wiggled his toe to stroke her wrist. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."

"Psh." She sat to hug him across his back at the waist. "I've never been uncomfortable around you. Not once." He leaned into her as she kissed his temple. The reflection of the hearth in his light green eyes was beautiful, flecks of brown and hazel shining. Gladness lurked in them, undeterred by their earnest exchange. She tousled his curls, ran her nails over his scalp until a pleasured moan escaped him. "Don't ever apologize for telling me how you feel."

A prolonged but companionable silence, then. As the fire died down, she lay on the floor. Pulled him to follow her until his wiry frame covered her. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not that weird."

Enfolding their fingers, he squinted at her. "I'm not?"

"Sorry to let you down." She wrapped her legs about his middle, squeezed him tight as he opened her lips with his. "Loving you is one of the easiest things I've ever done," she purred. She kissed his face in a line, then whispered in his ear. "Planning to proposition a man on the third date was never a habit of mine."

"Hm." At the weight of him hardening against her thigh, she gripped his shoulders and arched towards him. "Did you always flirt with men in the grocery store?"

The mild pinch to his bottom was instantaneous.

~~~~~

After procuring two apples, bananas, and donuts from the breakfast buffet and bringing them to their suite, Arthur decided to journal. He'd been awake since four. There was only so much smoking, staring at the walls, and trying to go back to sleep he could do. So as not to disturb Y/N, he went to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet, notebook on his lap.

The pen flowed freely and he snickered. It always felt good when jokes came easily. "My mother wud say (change voice here) 'mariage isn't for everyone.' But I found the one person who wanted to marry me. Sorry, mom. It's funny." "I have a wife. It's great to have one special person to steel the blankets from."

Tears pricked a couple punchlines later. He wiped at them with a square of tissue paper. "Today I feel good," he jotted. "I think it's because I like being maried. I'm so proud of myself for sticking with Y/N. The worst days are better. I used to wunder how long I could live with noone caring about me. But I don't half to anymore. I hope I never do again."

A yawn beckoned him and he padded through the doorway to peak towards the beds. Y/N was opening the drapes, just enough to let a strip of sunlight illuminate the room. She was pretty, barefoot, her nightdress ending mid-thigh as the rays framed her silhouette. He sidled up behind her. "What do you call two spiders that just got married?"

Turning, she tapped her chin, apparently giving it a good, long think. "Mr. and Mrs. Arachnid?"

Even if she was wrong, he appreciated her effort. "Newly-webs." Giggling, she hugged him around the neck, stretched slightly to kiss him. "I was on a roll this morning. Maybe I can make them part of my act."

She clambered into the bed beneath the covers and patted the narrow space next to her. It was a tight fit, but he climbed in eagerly, anyway. As he brought her half on top of him, she said she'd looked at the TV schedule and found a movie to start the day. One starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. The film was new to him, though he'd heard of it. He enjoyed the unexpected love story between two people from completely different backgrounds. Nibbling on a chocolate donut, he wondered if Y/N saw the parallels. If that was why she'd chosen it.

When they finally got dressed and headed out, they discovered the Skywheel Arthur had been looking forward to was closed for the season. It appeared they'd gotten married too late in the year for a lot to be open. There was a wax museum and an arcade in the nearby town. Neither appealed to him. But as they wandered the streets, they found the Houdini Magic Shop.

The manner in which she was browsing the props and instruction cards made it was obvious Y/N was out of her element. The only clown performance she'd seen in years had been his. But she was sweet and enthusiastic, and pointed out items she thought might be of interest. He was polite when he declined them. In the end, Arthur picked out a color changing blossom and a never-ending scarf. Although it was a store for performers, he found pens Y/N could use for work. He presented them to her with a flourish, and she promised she'd use them daily.

They stopped by a nearby souvenir shop. It was small, about half the size of their living room. He bought a few postcards to go with the ones on his vanity. She chose three, scrawled "We're hitched!" on them, and mailed them to Patricia, Mabel, and Penny. There was a photographer's booth, too, and he convinced her to have their photo taken. The cardboard frame he chose had "We're honeymooning at Niagara!" emblazoned at the top in bright blue letters. It wasn't her taste. Not at all. But she claimed to like it, stating simply, "At least you're gorgeous."

And now, after a quick lunch of sandwiches and soup at a nearby cafe, they stood on the observation deck overlooking the falls.

Beyond city parks, Arthur hadn't seen a lot of nature. Though he appreciated the majesty of the place, he wasn't mesmerized by it. Not really. The height intimidated him. There had been periods in his life during which he would have gladly flung himself into the depths. Not to die. Just to make everything stop. Smiling slowly, squeezing the hand of the woman next to him, he was grateful not to feel that now.

He swiveled to study her. She was peering through coin-operated binoculars, a contented look on her face. She offered him a turn but he declined, already having the best view. He ran his thumb over the gold band on her left hand and shut his eyes.

He'd heard a song once. The lyrics had said he would be nobody until somebody loved him, and until he found somebody to love. It was plain the love the person sang about wasn't the one he'd felt for Penny. He'd thought half the equation might have been enough. But he hadn't felt much improvement when he'd fallen for his neighbor. He'd grown to hate it, going so far as to hawk the LP, despite liking the other tracks on it. He'd known he'd always be a nobody - he didn't need a tune to rub it in.

Nothing in this world, not even its natural wonders, would ever compare to the beauty of Y/N understanding him for who he was. Of her choosing to care for him even after seeing him. Of him finally having the ability to demonstrate the love he'd always wished was buried somewhere inside him.

Of her confirming his existence.

Her hand going to her forehead caught his attention. He tightened his grip on her, blinked away his musings. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just a little vertigo. I'll be fine." Resting on the metal railing, she let out a long exhale. "It's too bad we have to head home tomorrow. This is miles better than my first honeymoon."

A burn came across his cheeks. "Oh?"

"My monthly started the second day. My ex's entrance exam for law school was reschedule, so we cut it short." Their gazes met, her irises glittering. "And you weren't there." Her eyelids fluttered and she cleared her throat. "It helps that I'm with a man who won't tire of my tenacity."

That wasn't a word he knew, but he figured it out from the context. It was strange that anyone would be put off by Y/N's strength of character. Her courage had been what had saved him on the subway. He'd found it odd, at first. He'd met so few people with any hint of it. Hoyt had shown his fortitude by yelling. Randall had talked him into shitty jobs and lied.

Didn't she know her strength supported his own? That her confidence, both in him and herself, made it easier for him to function? Lent him an inkling of what it was like to matter?

He palmed her side, took her hand in his, and leaned forward to whisper, "If you close your eyes, you can pretend we're alone." Flights of fancy were harder for her, he knew. He was pleased when she acquiesced. Kissed her browbone and pushed the bridge of his nose to it. Humming softly, he did his best to imitate one of their favorite songs. He didn't lead her in a dance, but a gentle sway from side to side.

Chest on the verge of bursting, he longed to accurately convey the emotions rushing through his core. Such positive experiences still felt new. He chose to use the phrases he would want bestowed upon himself. "I love you because of your...tenacity." Shrugging, he pressed his lips together. "You were always so nice to me. I think you're the best thing I've ever seen. I don't want you to change, Y/N."

The delicate caress of her fingertips on his neck made him shiver. "Should I nag you to quit smoking when I'm ninety? And you're pushing me around Gotham in my wheelchair?"

"Yes," he laughed, nodding swiftly at the idea of them being together for fifty years. That would be heaven. "And that I need new socks." He smoothed his hand down her back until she was flush against him. "And to take my medication." Palming her hip, he grinned down at her. "And to make love, if you still want me then."

She giggled, fisting the front of his jacket. "Definitely." On her tiptoes, her lips seized his. "I'll never stop wanting you." Groaning, he grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely, knowing he'd lose himself in her as soon as they returned to their room.

~~~~~

Van McCoy - The Hustle

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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crow-writes-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Death Sentence

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), possible Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2020, broken trust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mori Ougai Being An Asshole (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs), Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia, Chuuya potentially joins the ADA, Caring Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), no one dies, just wanted to make that clear considering the title Series: Part 4 of Soukoku Whumptober 2020 Summary:

Chuuya receives his own death sentence in form of a mission. He goes to the only person he can think of.

Ao3

"Well done, Akutagawa." Chuuya always makes sure to congratulate the younger on a successful mission. Ever since Dazai has left, Akutagawa has been even more desperate to prove himself. Chuuya knows he can't replace Dazai in Akutagawa's mind. But that doesn't mean he can't show him a little kindness. He likes to think that both Akutagawa siblings have warmed up to him over the years. They even train with him from time to time.

Now though, in the company of others, Akutagawa brushes him off. Chuuya doesn't take it to heart. He heads to his office with a smile.

Despite Dazai being the one that recruited Akutagawa in the first place, Mori has an excellent grasp on him nowadays. Of course, the boss knows how to use all of the more prolific Port Mafia members to his advantage. It's a skill Chuuya has admired from day one.

The way to his office is uninterrupted. Chuuya enters and closes the door behind him. No one is going to bother him for a while. There is a little pile of neatly stacked paperwork on his desk. More interesting, however, is the envelope lying in the middle. A new mission?

Chuuya sits down and opens the envelope. He glances over it quickly. It is indeed a mission, directly signed by the boss as well. Chuuya reads the outlined mission. Then he rereads it. And again.

A loud crack rings through his office. Chuuya only now notices that he has been gripping onto the armrest of his chair. It has splintered apart. There is a ringing in his ears, and his head suddenly feels like it's enclosed by cotton. He has to blink to clear the fog from his eyes.

He reads the mission one last time. He checks the signature. There is no doubt that this was written by the boss himself.

This is his death sentence. Written like any regular mission. Use Corruption. Black on white.

For a long while, Chuuya does nothing but stare at the paper in his hand. Okay. He takes a deep breath. Okay. So this is how it is.

Chuuya puts the mission down on his desk. Then he takes a pen and some paper and starts writing. He writes three letters; one for Kouyou, one for the Akutagawa siblings and one for Hirotsu. Chuuya seals the letters and places them on his desk. He knows that Ane-san is going to check by his office in two hours. No one else should appear before then.

His phone rings. He takes a quick look at the caller id and picks up. "Yes, boss?" His voice is calm, but it sounds hollow to his ears. "Ah, Chuuya, I trust that you have received your newest mission?" Mori's voice sounds deceptively cheerful. "Yes, boss." "There will be no problems with it, I'm sure." Chuuya swallows silently. "Of course not." "Splendid! Enjoy the rest of your day then."

The line goes dead, but Chuuya keeps staring at the phone for a while longer. There wasn't a single hint of regret or doubt in Mori's voice. He believes that Chuuya's loyalty reaches deep enough for this mission. Under different circumstances, he might be flattered by this.

Chuuya takes one last look at the three letters. Then, he grabs the mission and heads out of his office.

He's glad not to encounter anyone that would want to strike up a conversation on his way out. He's not sure he could keep up appearances otherwise. With not an inconsiderable amount of regret, Chuuya decides against taking his car with him. Instead, he walks through the city.

It feels like only seconds have passed when he stops in front of his destination. Logically, he knows that can't be the case. But he can barely remember the path he took.

Without waiting any longer, he heads inside and up the stairs. When he stands in front of the last door, he hesitates for the first time. This is final. If he enters, there is no going back.

Chuuya opens the door.

He ignores the general alarm and outrage his appearance causes and heads straight for a particular desk. Dazai looks up, some smart-ass quip certainly on his lips when he stops short. Chuuya wordlessly hands him the mission letter. Usually, he would have taken pleasure in the fact that Dazai is actually affected by what he reads. His face turns pale, and he clearly reads the instructions twice. Chuuya can't bring himself to feel anything.

Finally, Dazai looks up at him again. "You want me to come with you?" "No." Dazai stands up, brows furrowed. "Chuuya, I'm not letting you walk into certain death. This is-" Chuuya cuts him off, raising his hand. "I want out."

Dazai's mouth falls open. Then, he starts smiling. "Okay."

Chuuya takes shuddering breath. It's like an overstretched spring suddenly releases inside him. All the emotions he hasn't allowed himself to feel suddenly wash over him. He blinks, unable to articulate his thoughts.

Dazai gently takes him by the elbow, and moments later, he finds himself in a separate room. Dazai is the only other person here. They sit down on a small couch, side by side. Chuuya leans forward and puts his face in his hands. Dazai thankfully keeps silent for him to gather his thoughts.

"I'm," Chuuya finally looks up, "so pissed off." Dazai laughs. "I'm not surprised by that." More sombre, he adds: "I'm angry on your behalf, and I already knew Mori was a piece of shit." Chuuya scoffs. "Just this morning I was thinking, that he has a good grasp on what we all need to do to help the Port Mafia. Looks like he's run out of uses for me." "Do you know who your targets would have been?" Chuuya hums. "They're an up and coming rival organisation. They've been encroaching on our territory for a while now. Their main quarters are far enough off, though, that the boss," he frowns, "that Mori thinks I can destroy the place without coming too close to Yokohama." "While killing yourself in the process." "Exactly."

They stay silent for a while. Dazai is the first to break the silence: "I think Mori miscalculated." Chuuya looks at him. "No shit. I'm not dying any time soon." "No, that's not what I mean. Mori probably thought that you'd tell me. But he believed your loyalty to the Port Mafia would outweigh his betrayal. And that I'd be forced to help you out, which would start to pull me back in." Chuuya frowns at him. "So, either way, I'm just a worthless pawn." Dazai puts a placating arm around his shoulders. Chuuya could shrug him off. He doesn't.

"Well, don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll find something worthwhile for you to do." "We?" Chuuya questions, looking at Dazai's suspiciously cheerful face. "Why, of course! Now, that you're no longer part of the Port Mafia, I'm sure the Armed Detective Agency won't have anything against you joining us."

Chuuya is on his feet immediately. "That", he seethes, "is not why I came here." Dazai shrugs him off with a smile. "But it is your best bet." "I'm not leaving one organisation, just to get used by another," he spits. "Not again."

Dazai lets his smile fall as he stands up as well. His posture is open, trying to appear non-threatening. Chuuya has to force himself not to back away.

"I can assure you that the Agency won't just let you stick around because you might be useful." Chuuya narrows his eyes at him. Liar. Dazai seems to realise his mistake immediately. "What I mean is, that no one is going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do. The Agency doesn't work like that." Chuuya only relaxes a smidgen. Dazai takes another step towards him. "Chuuya, I swear that I won't let anyone treat you like a pawn again."

Chuuya sighs. "Except for yourself, I presume?" Dazai shrugs. He puts his arms around Chuuya and pulls him into a hug. Chuuya lets him. "Possibly," Dazai hums and Chuuya finally relaxes. He feels like he's been drained of energy ever since he read that mission.

"You'll be fine," Dazai murmurs above him. "I won't let anything happen to you, partner." And for once, Chuuya really wants to believe him.

#whumptober2020 #no.12 #Broken Trust #Bungou Stray Dogs #fic #soukoku #bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu

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alkhale · 5 years ago

Note

Omg omg can one of the causes of fights between mini shanks n mini mihawks be bcs Hoku doesn't call him "Brat" ????

(First scene Mihawk is fifteen, next scene is 16 along with Shanks, best reference is the young Mihawk Oda drew but I found a slightly older version someone made, it’s colored by a deviantart user but I don’t know who the original artist is so credits to them!)

When fifteen-year-old Mihawk finally woke up, wild, ink black hair pushed back over his headit was to something soft and warm beneath his head and the flash, secondary instinct to grab his sword at his side, as though the hilt and his palm were connected entirely.

And then a soft laugh hit his ears.

A simple click and the memories returned, easy and a bit bitter to swallow, but he was not a fool and he was not an idiot.

Dracule Mihawk, on a quest to become the strongest swordsman alive, had challenged the current reigning king of said title, and lost. Quickly, decisively and fairly. There was nothing more to dwell on the matter aside from his own lack of discipline, of training, and of certain skill.

Though such an action very much might have warranted losing his life, he was not dead.

Mihawk half turned to the woman who was waiting behind him, kneeling with a warm grin playing on her lips that allowed a thin glint of white from a canine of hers to peek out.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” Hoku said, “I’m never sure how to handle types like yours.”

Mihawk remained silent for a moment, dropping his eyes down to his hands. He considered their scabbed, rough feel hidden behind now clean white bandages. He touched his chest where he was no longer bleeding, tight white bandages wrapping neatly around him along with nothing but a bruise along the side of his face where the legendary Wado Ichimonji had decked him sideways and knocked him into the ocean without mercy.

“I did not ask to be treated,” Mihawk said calmly.

Hoku looked even more amused now, eyes a little half-lidded when she looked at him. Her heavy, sturdy coat hung over her shoulders but was pushed back to reveal the warm tan of steady arms–hands that knew work. He could clearly see the outline of her own blade–a notable, ungraded and legendary short sword by the name of Mau who earned its reputation far and wide.

This woman, Mihawk knew. He did not concern himself with the particulars of the legendary Straw Hat crew aside from their captain, Zoro, whom he longed to beat, and this woman, Hoku, since she was the only other crew member to carry a sword.

“I know,” Hoku said. Mihawk realized she had moved his head to her lap while he was unconscious. “I only did your hands, by the way. Chopper did the rest.”

Mihawk continued to stare at her.

“He thinks you have potential,” Hoku said simply. “You trim buds, but you don’t kill them off before they can bloom, do you?”

He understood now why he made it out with his life.

“You fight with that blade,” Mihawk said, though he posed it as a question. Hoku seemed to be considering whether or not he was worthy of an answer and he took no offense to this. He did not know of this woman’s skill, but he knew it existed. She had earned her rank and place. Her sword spoke to that.

“Not as much anymore,” Hoku said instead. “The two of us are a bit retired now and I definitely don’t take challenges like that monster. I’m more of an artist at heart.”

Mihawk had heard about that too. “But you craft.”

There was something pleased in her expression by his knowledge of this, though a touch wary. It made Mihawk a bit more interested himself. He turned, on his knees as he faced her with his hands on his lap.

“Yes,” Hoku said, a little warm. “I do.”

She tilted her head to the side for a moment, as though listening. “That’s a good sword. It kept you safe for now. It’ll do what it can to bring you as far as it can go.”

Mihawk touched his hilt and then looked at Hoku.He stared at her for a moment longer than he would have liked and then stood. Hoku blinked, curious as he remained standing before he promptly bowed to her.

“Thank you.”

And then Mihawk turned, a young man and his sword, and left.

Hoku watched him until he disappeared, a small, fond little huff escaping her lips.

“Told you there’s no point in talking to him,” a lazy voice called above her. Hoku didn’t even look, shrugging helplessly as heavy feet came to rest behind her. “Not much of a chatterbox.”

“Neither are you,” Hoku said. She rubbed the back of her neck, “Dunno. I just feel like you won’t see people like him often. He’s a bit cute. Like a stray, maybe?”

“You called that golden axe the other day cute too,” Zoro snorted. Hoku leaned back against his legs, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms high as she relaxed. “Might have to give him a scar to remember next time.”

“Ah, you’re soft on him,” Hoku said. “You like him.”

“Brat’s gonna come for my head next time.”

“I dunno, can’t you guys trade titles in the future without chopping each other’s heads off?”

Zoro set a hand down on her head. His fingers splayed out and Hoku turned to look up at him.

“That eager for me to kick the bucket?”

“Oh, please,” Hoku mused, tipping her head into Zoro’s hand. Her humored her, leaving it there for now and curving his fingers below her chin. “I don’t plan on letting anyone take your head anytime soon.”

Hoku made a face. “I’m speaking for Luffy, not for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, get off your lazy ass. I need a coating.”

“I’ll charge you one day for all you owe me. Nami’s keeping track.”

- - - -

Shanks really was lucky.

He had felt good about this beach the moment his crew set anchor on the other side of the harbor. He and Buggy were racing to see who could find the biggest and best catch and bring it back to the ship by dawn–

And truly, this was without a doubt, the best catch.

He knew it was her in an instant. It’d been a little while and he’d only caught glimpses of her in the newspapers, her captain making headline after headline as the marines raced after him. But that moon-white hair, the slope of her shoulders hidden by a cloak and–

She was just sitting there, where the grass of the forest met the sand, her back to everything else as she seemed to watch the ocean a safe distance away. Shanks thought he must be dreaming at first or perhaps this island had a secret mirage.

But he caught sight of their ship, her ship. A legendary ship anchored several leagues away and knew–

It was fate.

Something curled in the pit of his stomach. His heart pumped blood fast and hot through his body, fueling liquid courage all the way down to his fingertips. He was a year older now. He was less lank more muscle. He was taller too, maybe even taller than her now, he’d like to think, though he never minded a tall woman, he fancied the idea of cupping his hand under that curved chin and raising it to his–

Shanks’ eyes landed on a heavy bough of flowers beside him. Pretty, bright red things. A smaller branch of silver flowers grew below it. He considered them both, teetered dangerously and cursed under his breath, snapping the branch of soft silver flowers clean.

He had to ease into this sort of thing after all. Coax her sweet so she wouldn’t slip off, make her a bit interested enough to stay.

Shanks ran a hand through his bright red hair and walked forward, lightly swinging the branch.

When he was only a little ways away, she seemed to finally register his approaching presence, as though he were a deer who’d broken away from a herd of things. She still faced away from him, tilting her head to the side as though listening curiously before she started to turn.

Shanks stopped as close as he dared for now, a few steps from her–and he kept in mind to treat kindly the fact that she let him get this close and that gave him hope–he dipped the branch low.

Those ocean eyes blinked, slow and curious, round at the bundle of flowers presented before her before looking up.

“I didn’t think there was treasure on this island,” Shanks said with a bright, sunny grin. “But it looks like I found some.”

“Brat,” Hoku said, pleasantly surprised. He withheld a wince at the name. “Huh, I guess Robin was right. This island is getting a little more popular now…”

“I think it was fate,” Shanks said. He shook the branch. Petals fell, dappling her hair and she looked up, amused at his antics. “Did you miss me?”

“I hardly thought about you at all,” Hoku said, a small smile on her lips. Shanks inched a step closer. “I thought we wouldn’t meet for ten more years.”

“I don’t think my heart could take such a thing,” Shanks crouched on the sand beside her. Hoku looked amused, watching him with vague curiosity. Her hair was a little longer and he’d fight to run his hands through it once.

“Too long for–” Shanks’ eyes dropped down and he stopped. He blinked, once, twice, and then a third time for good measure.

There, stretched out in the sand before her, was a youthful face. A face not much older than his own. A hardened face who Shanks recognized from the waves he was making. A face that was currently attached to a head that was very much resting on the soft and supple skin of Hoku’s thighs, fast asleep and–

Dracule Mihawk was sleeping on Hoku’s lap.

Shanks stared.

“Oh,” Hoku said, following his eyes. “He’s another rookie like you. Maybe you two have heard of each other–”

Shanks stared at Hoku as though she’d driven a knife right through his heart. His eyes went soft, staring at her in his best, most charming sense of a puppy-dog face. Hoku stared at him with round eyes, blinking. “What’s that look for? All I said was–”

As though summoned, Mihawks’ eyes finally slid open. Shanks gaped at him. Hoku looked down. The young swordsman seemed to consider several things for a moment before promptly he sat up–to Shanks’ relief–and turned to Hoku.

“He developed an even stronger technique,” Mihawk said.

“Oh, you noticed,” Hoku grinned. “He never stops advancing, you know. You’ll have to run to even get close to catching up.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes flickered before he nodded. He moved, standing up and Hoku let her hands fall into her lap. Shanks continued to gape.

“What’s the matter with you?” Soft fingers tapped the side of his face and Shanks’ head jerked to the side. His cheek connected with Hoku’s warm palm, ocean eyes curious as she watched him. “You seemed confident as a lion just a moment ago–”

“I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted,” Shanks said, a wide, quick grin curling on his lips. He flashed Mihawk a sharp look who simply stared blankly back at him in return. Hoku moved to pull her hand away and Shanks quickly reached up, cupping his hand over hers.

Hoku arched a brow.

“Lovely dove,” Shanks said, voice a little low, eyes a little pleading, expression soft. His fingers moved lightly over the back of her hand in a way he hoped was distracting. “What do I have to do to be spoiled like that?”

Hoku blinked. She seemed confused by his question for a moment before something must have clicked and then she laughed. Shanks’ eyes went half lidded at the sound and Mihawk raised a brow at the redhead’s expression.

“Challenge the greatest swordsman alive,” Hoku said, eyes a little wild. “And we’ll see what happens.”

Maybe I should play a little sick next time. Shanks wondered. I wouldn’t mind being spoiled like that–

“And you should really just let me coat your sword for you,” Hoku said, ignoring Shanks and pulling her hand away. He pouted at the loss and Hoku faced a calm Mihawk. “I promise it’ll help–”

“I’m not good enough to have you coat for me,” Mihawk said simply. “Not yet.”

Shanks huffed, “Dove, I’d gladly let you do anything to or for me–”

Shanks stopped.

He was fairly certain his heart might’ve too.

Red, soft, flush red colored her cheeks. Hoku’s eyes were a little wide, almost soft at Mihawk’s words. She looked hopelessly embarrassed, flushing in pride at the praise as she reached up and placed a hand over her face as though to hide the entire view, crumpling a bit.

“You can’t just going saying things like that,” Hoku said, sheepish and soft. “Really now–”

Shanks wanted that face engraved to memory. He wanted that face to be made because of him. He wanted it under his fingertips. He wanted it, begged for it beside him. He wanted to see it color darker, a little more flushed, eyes soft on him and his hands running low and pushing, playing, trying to see how much more he could–

Shanks paused. Maybe this time Buggy was right and a little bit of that passion was bleeding a bit toward somewhere else.

“HOOOKKKKKUUUUUU!” Shanks and Mihawk froze, the loud, resounding voice boomed across mountains, echoing blaringly clear. “WHEEEEEERREEE ARRREEEE YOOOUUUU?”

They both looked to each other, realization coloring their faces as to who the voice belonged to and–

Without another word, Hoku stood. Her head turned toward the sound of her name, at her call, eyes warm, the expression on her face–

Something Shanks wasn’t sure he knew how he ought to feel about. It reminded him of her moment with Zoro. A simple call of her name and yet–

Something too far for him to ever grasp. Something that shouldn’t be touched. Something he couldn’t touch.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, brat,” Hoku grinned at Shanks, holding a silver flower up. Shanks blinked in realization. “Thanks for the flowers.”

Turning to Mihawk she added over her shoulder, “Rest up. See you again, Mihawk.”

She beamed at the two of them and promptly set off, never once looking back as she followed the continued calls of her name, hurrying maybe just a bit.

…

“Alright, spill it you sly dog. What did you do and what did you say to get her to treat you like that?” Shanks nearly pulled tufts of red out. “You were in her lap! Her lap, you dog! And that face–do you understand how cute she is?”

Mihawk stared at him as one would a bug.

“Who are you?”

- they’ll all meet again

#memos #Hoku #Shanks #memos au #young!shanks #older!hoku #young!mihawk #Mihawk #Shanks x Oc #ShaKu #MiKu #Zoro #monkey d luffy #pirate king luffy

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