#tot Darius Morgan

[solaria-writes]

Is a shame that Darius canonically does not use cologne or anything of that sort (apparently he is not as formal as Artem !!) because what am I supposed to spray in my pillow at night??

[redheadkittys]

...WHY SO HOT WHEN ONLY NPCs🤯...

...i need an explanation why we can't date them🤨mihoyo...they're stunning🤩...sorry i couldn't remember the names of two...

...*sigh*to be honest...i'm drinking...

...for Darius, Marius and Vyns dad, Ogier the Butler of Vyn and not to forget Wesley+Rick+Jack+Aran and this Guy in the red suit🙈so year😂i'm simping for almost everyone 😆...

[sdaomine]

'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

==

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun��a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively,  hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

==

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

==

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he  couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn’t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

==

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

==

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

==

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

[dennavanhossen]

If Darius was one of the love interests, I would totally fall for him ❤️

[psychopomparia]

He’s a man who enjoys teas

[rexonalapis]

so... there is a reason why I'm always a bit unsure with 'artem is zhongli variant' hc and that's because hyv waited three years to release artem variant; they wanted to release him together with darius variant in fontaine.

dartem is the blueprint for wriolette and it is DELIBERATE. i said what i said.

[rikumorimachisgirl]

So, I actually submitted this. It's just a shot in the dark. 😁

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Chapters: 1/4 (click EXPAND for 3k of Chapter 1) Fandom: 未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game) Rating: Mature Relationships: Yan Wei | Darius Morgan/Zuo Ran | Artem Wing Additional Tags: Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Darius Morgan centric, Darius morgan POV, POV Zuo Ran | Artem Wing, but only a few of Artem's POV, Pining, and some of my Headcanon

---

Summary:

Senior Attorney Wing and Captain Morgan have a professional working relationship that grants them to meet often, more than they meet their own friends. But Artem and Darius meet for the first time – five years later since they first met – in the cemetery.

It all started with an umbrella.

+++

+++

 Senior Attorney Wing and Captain Morgan have a professional working relationship that grants them to meet often, more than they meet their friends. But Artem and Darius meet for the first time – five years later since they first met – in the cemetery.

Artem is leaving, Morgan has just arrived. It’s a cloudy morning, Big Data lab predicts that it’s going to rain heavily come noon. Their eyes meet, equally feeling awkward at seeing each other without their uniform. Artem is clad in a cream sweater over a sky-blue turtleneck and gray slacks, shockingly different than the sharper-than-knives suit he wears that no matter what time of day always looks tidy and sharp on him. Artem’s hair is down and loose instead of swept to the sides. Artem looks soft, very out of character from the stiff and strict Senior Attorney that Darius comes to know for years.

Darius barely looks any different, still unkept and tired but in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket instead of the slacks, shirt, and trenchcoat. The bouquet of pink lilies and lilac looks off-putting in Darius’ hands as if something so delicate doesn’t belong in the hands of a brute that’s holding them.

“Hello,” Artem says, managing to look all kinds of awkward while saying one word.

Darius isn’t any better though, he’s just standing there staring, dumbfounded. “Hi,” he finally says flatly.

Aside from his looks, the second thing Darius thinks upon seeing Artem is ‘I didn’t know someone close to him recently died.’ He almost said his condolences but held back when he realizes that it was none of his business. Artem didn’t say anything, Darius deducts that perhaps a condolence from an acquaintance is the reason why. Even though they know each other for five years, they’re not close personally.

Darius nods and goes on his not-so-merry way. His destination is quite a hike and he takes his time. He had walked this path for twelve years. Everyone said that it gets better in time. Darius is still waiting for that time to come when the flowers in his hand will stop weighing a ton.

“Captain Morgan,” Calls a familiar voice. It makes Darius tense, and straightened his back, instinctually in work mode. Turning around and seeing Artem in his sweater send Darius on a whiplash, even more, when the man is handing him an umbrella. “I didn’t see any on you, it’s going to rain.” Darius looks to the sky, and it’s so dark it almost looks like it’s closer to the evening than noon, how come he didn’t notice?

Another thing Darius didn’t notice is how flustered Artem looks when the pause lingers too long. “I’m sorry if I’m being overfamiliar…”

“No no, you’re not,” Darius quickly says, eyes switching back and forth between Artem’s face and the umbrella in his hand. Darius decides to take it, he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and it’ll be bad if he’s sick around this time. He’d have to get sick leave and be alone in his apartment, alone with his thoughts at this time, that’d be nightmarish. “Thank you, I’ll give it back to you as soon as I can.”

“No rush,” Artem says, and he lingers a little before saying. “I hope I’m not crossing any lines, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

Darius doesn’t know what to say for a while. He feels nothing for Artem’s words, but he repeats robotically, “You too, my condolences.”

They exchange stiff nods and go separate ways. In the middle of the way, Darius notices the umbrella is as grey as the sky with a gunmetal sheen, it fits Artem’s personality perfectly. Darius was praying over their grave when the first drops of the rain fall. Darius opens the umbrella and was shocked when he sees the blue sky painted under the umbrella along with rainbows, pink and blue clouds, glittery sheen, and cutesy baby angel characters with harps, trumpets, cupids bow and… are those puppies and kittens they’re carrying in their baskets? Also, the illustration is very realistic and detailed, kind of like a Renaissance painting style.

“Huh.”

Never thought Artem to buy this kind of thing.

 +++++

  Captain Morgan: Cute umbrella.

Attorney Wing: Excuse me?

Captain Morgan: *Click to see the attached picture*

Attorney Wing: I assure you that I didn’t know that. I never use it since my colleagues gave it to me as a gift. I’m at loss as to why they gave me that.

Captain Morgan: I think you’ve been pranked.

Attorney Wing: Yes, I’ve realized that now.

Captain Morgan: Still want the umbrella back?

Attorney Wing: I’m not sure.

Captain Morgan: It’s a gift, so you should cherish it.

Attorney Wing: Are you pranking me too?

Captain Morgan: I plead not guilty.

Before he knows it, he’s texting back and forth with the attorney. Darius hates weekends, he never spent them doing anything of worth. He’d smoke, watch a movie he’s watched hundreds of times, and hang out with his cold girl Julia. If he’s lucky, he gets to work on these empty weekends. Alas, after pushing himself to those working weekends for a month, his supervisor noticed and kicks him to the curb and made him spend his weekend ‘relaxing’. Darius knows it’s just politics for ‘I’m not gonna grant you any more overtime money for this’. So, no, Darius isn’t relaxing. Or, wasn’t.

Darius doesn’t have any friends he can call close enough. He has drinking buddies but that’s an entirely different category of people than friends. Never in his wild imagination that he’d ever think that Artem can be his friend. They see each other almost every week strictly for work and it’s been five constant years of that so Darius never thought it was a possibility. Then there’s work, which they’re both too invested in whenever they met, socializing nor pandering didn’t come to mind.

And yet, the stupid umbrella is just so stupid that he can’t not bug Artem about it. He was supposed to be mourning that day, but the cupid babies loom at the corner of his eyes as the umbrella opens to dry. Darius could’ve sworn the inside of that umbrella is glowing like it has a light source. Where did Artem even find that thing?

 ++++

 Darius never gets to return the umbrella, both of them are always too busy to remember. Darius often forgot his umbrella at home, then forgot them at the office. When he finally brings it into the glove box of his car, he forgot to mention it until Artem leaves in a hurry.

Two months later, the imprint of the ridiculous umbrella left his memory. His text with Artem bantering about the umbrella had been buried with texts about cases.

Then comes the rain.

Darius remembers to bring an umbrella today. He slips it inside this coat pocket. He’s assisting Artem and his partner, young Attorney Chris. They’re at the back garden of the victim’s mansion while Artem is inside the house investigating with one of Darius’ officers. The rain starts and he opens the umbrella to shield himself and Chris. She looks up at Darius, opening her mouth to say something until she sees the abomination that is under the umbrella. Darius even forgot that this umbrella was THAT umbrella until she was badly covering her smile and cupids dancing at the corner of his eyes.

“How come you have Artem’s umbrella?” Chris says.

“Ah, so you’re the one that gave it to him.”

At Darius' teasing smile, Chris blushes, “Uh, well, I was one of the people that suggest it, sure, but I’m not the one that constructs it.”

Darius’ eyebrows raise, “You’re saying you and another person custom-made this umbrella to prank Wing?”

“Me and three other people, yes. We just thought it was funny!” Chris says all of the sudden.

Darius can’t help the chuckle, “Yeah, it is, kinda.”

He walks Chris to Artem’s car and goes back to get Artem. Sure enough, the Attorney looks at him with wide eyes when he sees Darius with the umbrella.

“It really is offensively adorable, yet somehow artistic,” Artem says out of nowhere.

“If by artistic you mean uncanny-ly realistic, sure.”

To his surprise, Artem laughs, not noticing Darius having an internal 404 error. Had he ever seen Artem laugh? No, he had never even seen him crack a smile in all the five years they’d known each other.

Huh, so that’s what it looks like, Darius thinks, and he doesn’t look away. Not until Artem catches him staring and looks away almost sheepishly, which makes Darius thinks that he might’ve passed out at some point and dreamt all this.

“If you don’t mind,” Artem says after clearing his throat.

Darius flustered, much to his horror, “Ah, yes, let’s go.”

And it must’ve been a ridiculous sight for a gruff middle-aged man and another stiff-faced man nearing thirty to walk together in the rain under an umbrella that looks like a child’s bedsheet. Both of them can’t see how ridiculous they are, so the embarrassment doesn’t stop their conversation.

“Is this another case of a family fighting for inheritance gone bloody?” Darius asks.

“I won’t assume anything until I have all the evidence.”

Darius scoffs, “You say that, but every time they called the cops on an allegedly natural death of a rich guy, it’s always murder and it’s always about inheritance.”

“Not always,” Artem says airily.

“When? Wing, I assist you in every case you take, I know.” And doesn’t that take Darius back. He didn’t realize that yes, ever since Artem became an attorney in the city, Darius had always been the one that assist him, how did that happen?

“Premeditate opinion is a recipe for misinterpretation.”

“Ok Mr. Senior attorney, wanna bet?” Darius doesn’t know what possessed him to say that, but upon seeing Artem's playful smirk, everything is worth it.

“What would we even bet?”

Darius lits up. At some point, they stopped walking and had been standing face to face. Their chests almost touched under the umbrella too small for the two of them with the curtain of rain shutting the whole world from their private little circle. Darius looks at those dark blue eyes, mysterious like the ocean deep, they glint in mischief as if they’re hiding something. Looking at those eyes any longer, Darius would’ve drowned.

“The winner buys the other drinks,” Darius goes with the classic.

“You’re on,” Artem says with an amount of sass that Darius never knew he possessed.

Darius is completely mystified by what he just experienced. So much so that he kept looking at Artem as he steps into his car, said goodbye, and drives away into the road.

Only after a few seconds did he realize that Darius is still holding the blasted umbrella.

 ++++

 It took a month for Artem to wrap up the case they’re betting on. The memory of the bet had been pushed to the back of Darius’ head by other responsibilities. Artem isn’t the only attorney he works with, and there’s more to police work than just investigating death and murder, there are also these damn reports.

So, it takes a few seconds to discern Artem’s text, which is a link to a news article.

‘The Evil Mistress of the Reindhart Patriarch declared Not Guilty! The shocking truth reveals a heartbreaking story of the Billionaire’s decades fight with illness.’

Attorney Wing: I win.

Darius laughs, shocking his coworkers that never once hear any joyous tone from their strict no-nonsense captain.

Captain Morgan: And I’m a man of my word. The winner picks the time and place.

Friday, 9 PM, at a place called Dionysus. It sounded posh, and honestly, what is it with this city and greek gods? They’re nowhere near Greece.

 ++++

 The place isn’t as posh as it sounds. Darius was expecting to burn all his life savings because Artem seems like a wine guy. The name of the bar sounded like a wine place, and Darius knows wine can cost a liver and a limb.

The bar seems cozy. Earth tones, dim lighting, jazz music, couch seats. It’s getting crowded with office workers since it’s 7 PM on a Friday. Darius takes the bar seat where he can see both the emergency exit and the front entrance. Darius only waited for five minutes when Artem walks in through the door, his suit jacket in his arms.

Darius sips his whiskey to mask his instinctual gulp. This overreaction is pathetically caused by Artem without a layer of suit jacket. What is wrong with him lately? He looks at Artem and suddenly his composure takes a nosedive. He sees Artem often, sure this is the first time they meet up outside work hours –second if you count the cemetery– but Artem doesn’t look any different. Artem is Artem, which is exactly the problem now that Darius thinks of it. Artem had always been Senior Attorney Wing and he’s never just… Artem.

Hey, know what? Darius is an honest man. Artem is attractive, Darius had always found him attractive. This is only the first time that he lets himself react to it since he’s bound to his professional work ethic. There’s no harm in noticing that their colleague is attractive at the appropriate non-working hours, right?

“Sorry I’m late,” Artem says, taking the bar seat next to Darius. He smells like expensive perfume and rain.

“You’re not, hope you don’t mind me having a head start,” Darius motioned to his glass.

“I don’t mind.” Artem gestures to the bartender, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Oh, come on, Attorney Wing. Treat yourself to the top shelf, I’m a gracious loser.”

Artem sips on his quickly-served glass of two shots of whiskey, “Aren’t the winner able to get whatever they want?”

“Hey, suit yourself.”

“Artem.”

“Hm?”

“We’re off the clock. Isn’t it weird to be so formal?”

Darius disagrees, it’s weirder to call each other by their given name after years of calling their last names tightly knit to their title, and yet, “Artem,” he says, testing the sound of Artem’s name in his mouth. “Darius, then.”

“Darius,” Artem nods with a smile.

And it’s a little pathetic how the sound of his name in Artem’s voice sent shivers down his spine.

“Well,” Darius smiles and raises his glass to Artem, “For your win. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Artem toasts his glass with Darius’.

Even though both of them are outside work hours in a bar, they’re workaholics by nature and all they talk about is work. It started with Darius asking how the case wrapped up and they went deep into investigation talk.

Sober Darius would’ve panicked being so close to Artem, watching him talk and loosen up, his hair softly falling apart from the side-swept style he kept, seeing how delicate the white shirt on Artem’s body is. Pleasantly buzzed Darius, however, shamelessly enjoys the view.

Out of nowhere, Artem chuckle, and it makes Darius chuckle too.

“What?” Darius asks.

“We’re off the clock, yet I still talk about work,” Artem sighs dejectedly.

“We’re workaholics, and I don’t mind,” Darius shrugs like it’s nothing, hoping it’ll cheer him up. “Also, you’re not much of a drinker, are you?” Darius notices that in an hour and a half they’ve been here, Artem hadn’t finished his first glass while Darius is already on his third.

Artem chuckles mirthlessly, “You caught me.”

Darius watches Artem, finding a conclusion, “You didn’t have to agree to go drinking if you didn’t want to. We could’ve gone wherever you feel comfortable in.”

“That’s the problem though,” Artem says dejectedly, finally finishing the drink. “I don’t know where to go either. I work all the time, and the only thing I do outside of work are the necessities: Sleep, bathe, eat, and…” Artem pauses at the last point, something he can’t say in public then.

“Sex?”

Artem swings his head so fast Darius thought it would spin, eyes pop open so comically that Darius laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me, you caught me off guard,” Artem huffs, his face flushed with a pretty pink tone. “I was about to say I was doing… special cases.”

Ah yes, special cases, the NXX investigation team. Darius is partially let into the knowledge of their existence, though Darius knows he was only let in so the team can do under-the-table work with him. Darius had agreed with the condition that they do him a favor in similar weight. Three years after he works with Artem and gains respect towards each other, Artem finds him trustworthy enough to know their existence. Imagine his bewilderment when he’s faced with a team of a baby-faced super spy, an aloof prince-like psychologist that talks to him like he’s a lab rat, the youngest Senior Attorney in the city, and a 19-year-old Vice-CEO of the multi-billionaire company that runs half the world.

It worked out mutually beneficial. Darius gets to pull in reasonable favors, and they get fast help from the police force and confidential files.

“Sorry, sorry,” Darius says after he calms down. “We’re both adults and it was an honest question. Some argue that sex is a necessity.”

“Not to me,” Artem says carefully, watching Darius as he says it, “It’s… no, I don’t do that casually.”

Darius is pinned to the board with Artem’s strong gaze, enjoying every moment of it. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Uh-uh,” he says, not willing to elaborate.

“If not the bar, where would you’ve suggested we go?” Artem asks, moving on.

“The workaholic with no life asks another workaholic with no life, I suggest you refer to a different source.”

Artem scoffs, his eyes glinting with amusement, Darius pats himself on the back for that.

“You don’t seem to be worse off than me.”

“It’s not a competition, Artem,” Darius’s heart has no business skipping at saying Artem’s name. “We can suffer in our lack of life together.”

To Darius’ dismay, Artem smiles at him and blushes, “It’s not so bad then.” Oh, and that one does a number on Darius.

“Are you already drunk?”

“Maybe. I don’t have the greatest tolerance for alcohol. The last time I got drunk was humiliating, I swore to never touch alcohol again, in public.”

Darius sighs, “And you still agree to my invitation.”

“Well, it was the first time you ask me to meet up, I couldn’t say no.”

“Why couldn’t you? It would’ve been fine.”

“It wouldn’t. I’d… never mind.” Artem slumps, dejected towards himself.

Darius knocks his knee with Artem’s, getting the younger man’s rapt attention, “If you have no idea where to go because you’ve never been there, then how about going to a place you’ve been wanting to go?”

Artem is holding his breath for whatever reason. He’s leaning his face on the palm of his hand, and he seems to be hiding behind said palm. To torture him, Artem starts biting his lips before blurting out, “Dinner?”

“Sure, we could’ve gone for that.”

“Could’ve,” Artem says wistfully, “Now I have to find an excuse to ask you.”

Darius chuckles, “You’re so drunk.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t need any excuse. We can just, go.”

“We can just go,” Artem repeats as if still not believing what he hears or say.

“Yes.”

“That easy?”

“Was it supposed to be hard?”

“I don’t know, but it felt like it. I never knew how to do… you know?”

“No, I don’t know. To do what?”

“Having a casual relationship.”

“… Friends, you don’t know how to have friends.”

“I was trying to not make myself look pathetic, but you see right through me I guess.”

Darius barked a laugh, and he might’ve imagined the stars in Artem’s eyes, “Hey, I applaud you for still trying. I’ve given up at some point.”

“As my friend said to me once, it’s not a competition.”

Friends. Damn, isn’t that nice?

 -

-

[starimisu]

Tears of Themis side characters! Are they recognizable? Who’s your favorite?

[diavorchid]

[ Tears of Themis - Darius Morgan ]

is he a grim reaper in this au? a ferryman? you can decide

[otomiyaa]

do you have any ToT fics?

Mr. Mouse

Lee!Marius & NXX Squad ft. Reader

[Fic Reupload] - Haha I thought you were crying but then thought oh right I've been sharing Tears of Themis posts lately. Well I've got one, only one, apart from some drabbles scattered around. I'll reupload the fic ^^ It's not lee Luke though, but Marius. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 3.1K

The mood was dark and heavy. Though it had been your intention to shift the team’s focus off the complex investigation case just for a little, you did not expect it would arise new complications.

All you had done was suggest a funny game for some team bonding, fun, and to have a laugh, since there was just too much tension in this team and definitely not enough laughter. Alas, there was little to no laughter at all as the men glared at each other, even while playing the game. 

"Guys...” you whispered, watching them nervously. 

Even with those stupid cards sticking to their foreheads it didn’t look at all like the lighthearted situation it should be. Marius and Artem were exchanging death stares as if they could fly over the table any second and clash. Vyn appeared to be judging their behavior quietly, a little pile of successfully guessed cards of his own proudly placed before him as he stared at the duo with piercing eyes. And Luke...

“Luke,” Marius suddenly called out, glancing sideways at Luke who was, just like you were, observing the two nervously. “I’ll ask again, Luke. Am I Mr. Artem Wing?” Marius asked. Luke was stuttering, but couldn’t get in between them again with a firm ‘no’ or anything else, given the tense atmosphere.

Marius already continued to speak: “Summarizing all of your answers, I am a male, I am old, I am not big, but I do have big earsー”

“Mr. Wing does not have big ears though,” you whispered, but Marius didn’t hear and continued.

“You are also an animal, Marius. You are forgetting a key part of the interrogation,” Vyn said in all seriousness. You should have known. There was no such thing as playing a fun and simple game of Who Am I? with the NXX gang. 

“Ah, an animal. Right. I stick to my guess. Mr. Wing is also kind of an animal,” Marius said, shrugging. Artem glared.

“Your insults are getting less and less creative. I suggest you proceed with more clever guesses, or you should just give up and admit you cannot guess the character,” he said. Ah, these two really weren’t getting along! Still, it was hard to fight back your giggles as you felt your lips twitch unwillingly. 

On Marius’ forehead was the card that said ‘Mickey Mouse’ and for the past ten minutes it had been him trying to guess the name which was not that difficult. From Elvis to Sherlock Holmes, Harry Potter, Leonardo da Vinci, Darius Morgan, Phoenix Wright and Mark Zuckerberg, everyone else including yourself had already finished some interrogation rounds successfully and guessed the right names. 

It was just Marius who was still Mickey Mouse for such a long while since the start of the game that all of you had decided to focus your attention on him alone until he would guess it right. Though usually enjoying to be in the spotlight, Marius did seem to get annoyed and had been trying to wriggle his way out of it by provoking Artem.

“Ask more about the animal’s nature,” Vyn suggested. 

“Or his career,” Luke said.

Marius rolled his eyes, a confused look on his face that said ‘an animal’s career?’ but he sighed and growled, “Fine. Am I a monkey?” 

“No,” chirped Luke.

“Am I a cat? Or a dog?”

“No and no,” Vyn said. 

“A fish?” You shook your head at him. Marius made a wild gesture with his hands.

“A bear?” 

“Nope,” Artem said. There was definitely something smug about Artem’s attitude, and unfortunately Marius did not miss this. He lunged towards him and sneered, “Ah I see. You thought of a difficult name for me, just to finally have something I am not better at. Hm?” 

“Just keep guessing, Marius,” you tried gently, but Marius was fixated on Artem again and you were kind of relieved that he didn’t catch Luke’s very soft “It’s not that difficult though...” because if he did, Luke would be enjoying all of that attention that was going to Artem now.

“Looks like we’ll still be here tomorrow,” was Artem’s calm remark, sparking Marius’ irritation again. There had been something mischievous about the usual serious Artem all day, something childish yet not more childish than Marius himself, and you were torn between amusement and fear of this all escalating into something bad. 

“Rosa~ Help me out here? They are bullying me,” Marius whined like a child, pouting at you. It was hilarious how he really did seem at loss with this game, and it didn’t even seem to cross his mind that you were the one who came up with the idea to play this in the first place. Or better, that it was your very own hand that wrote the name 'Mickey Mouse' for Marius to guess.

“Just keep on guessing. You are really close,” you encouraged him. He wasn’t close though. You could tell Marius had still no idea.

“Perhaps he will need a hand,” Vyn said. Marius let out a sudden guffaw. 

“Oh you guys are loving this aren’t you? The only way you guys can beat me is with silly games, or maybe even a prank. I’m not gonna be surprised if I take this off and there’s no name on it. It’s getting shady, why am I the only one who’s an animal?” Marius said, grabbing at the card on his forehead, but Luke reached out swiftly and caught his arm.

“Hey, don’t take it off now!” the brunet warned. Marius was sort of right. The guys were enjoying the hilarity of Marius failing at something as simple as a guessing game, but there was no prank going on here. Marius really failed gloriously and you couldn’t blame them - especially Artem - for rubbing salt into the wound.

“See? You don’t want me to see you’re fooling me huh?” Marius said, trying to pull his arm free from Luke who held him with both hands, but Marius reached for the card again with his other hand. This time Vyn got up fast and stood behind Marius, where he grabbed both his arms and moved them behind the seat. 

“You are going to play fairly, Marius. This’ll be a temporary measure to make sure you do,” he said, taking off his own tie and using it to bind his hands behind the chair. Marius laughed out loud again.

“Come on now! As if you guys are playing fairly! This is so childish!” 

“Or you are the childish one. Just because you are finally bad at something doesn’t mean it isn’t fair. You’ll have to accept you can’t be good at everything,” Artem lectured. 

“Oh yeah? Well, it’s not that I don’t want to play a game, I just don’t want to cooperate with your pranks! I’m going home,” Marius said, but Vyn tightened the light bondage on Marius’ hands and said: “Oh but you’re not going anywhere. And it’s not a prank, Marius. It is a fair game.”

“Rosa, help!” Marius made a scene on purpose, still smug and at the same time dramatic about the whole situation, and you shook your head at him.

Vyn sat down again, but Luke leaned towards Marius and poked him teasingly between the ribs.

“I’ll give you a hint. The sort of animal you are tends to get stuck by human traps as well,” he said, but the poke caused a different reaction than everyone expected. Marius literally squeaked. 

Your eyes widened. Marius von Hagen.... Could he be.... Ticklish? Judging from the look on Artem’s face, he seemed to notice too.

“The animal makes a similar sound too,” he said, poking Marius as well from the other side, making him squeak again.

“EEP!”

“The animal does, but the character does not make such a sound,” Luke said, watching how Artem’s single finger poked Marius not one, not two, but three more times.

“Haha-hands off, Artem, you don’t want to face the consequences once I get out of this,” Marius argued, dancing uncomfortably. 

“Hm.  That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position,” Artem retorted, and this time he made a claw of his hand, digging his fingers into Marius’ torso and getting him to let out another lovely squeak. Luke snickered.

“Shall we tickle him?  he suggested, wiggling his fingers. 

“We could. Until he guesses it right.” 

It was hard to believe what was happening here. You saw how both Artem and Luke surrounded Marius who sat tied to his chair thanks to Vyn’s bondage skills, and their fingers started to poke and prod his sides. Marius threw his head back, the card sticking to his forehead like magic while he let out the loudest most hysterical giggles.

“GAhaha-guhuhuys! Y-you ahahar the wohohorst!” 

You gaped at them and exchanged looks with Vyn. He was smirking. “Amused aren’t you?” he murmured while in the background, Marius continued to laugh because of Artem and Luke tickling him. Artem was calm and collected, tickling Marius with this concentrated look as if he was some kind of work project. Luke was much more playful and smug about it.

“Heehee, take that! Well, aren’t you gonna guess?” he sang.

You chuckled at Vyn. “Yeah. Amused, and confused. What is even happening?” you giggled, amazed that even Artem would do something of such a childish nature. Perhaps everyone would act a little different if a bratty person like Marius was involved.

“Well, I can tell you what’s happening. They are tickling him. What do you say, shall we help out?” Vyn asked you, leaning close as if the two of you were having an intimate and personal moment in the middle of the tickle fest. 

“Should we?” you asked, smirking. Vyn shrugged.

“I think we should.” And so you two rolled your chairs towards where Marius was laughing for his dear life.

“I refuhuhuse to plahahay your stuhuhupid gahahames!” he laughed, and he shrieked even louder when you joined in, clawing at his tummy while Artem continued to tickle his ribs and sides, and Luke was playfully wriggling his fingers under his arms, tickling his armpits.

“You’ll have to, Marius. Continue playing, I will be the one to answer your questions,” Vyn said, sitting right before him with his hands on his knees. He squeezed, and Marius let out a loud gasp.

“AHAHah!” His eyes widened, and you could see the realization on his face. He was stuck. He struggled with his bound arms, but even if he were to shake the tie off, you were certain these guys would not let him go easily. Heh. Neither would you. This was actually fun. 

“Ahaham I a rahahabit?!” Marius finally laughed, and you couldn’t help but giggle along. He was both cute and hilarious right now, and you continued to dance your fingers all over his belly. Vyn snickered and shook his head.

“No, you are not.”

“S-sehehehe, squirrel! A squirrehehel!”

“No,” Artem said firmly.

“A rahhaahat?!” Marius roared. 

Luke giggled. “Close, but no!” 

“AHAHAH! A MOUSEehehee! A stuhuhupid mouse!” 

Vyn smiled. “Correct.” To help ‘celebrate’, Luke switched to tickling Marius’ neck with scribbly finges as he taunted, “Bingo, finally you guessed something right! You are a mouse!” and meanwhile Artem continued to squeeze and pinch at different spots on Marius’ torso, from his upper sides to lower sides, his hips and back up towards his ribs, causing him to bounce hysterically.

“Thehehen stahahhap!” he laughed. 

“You are not there yet, Marius. You are a mouse, continue guessing.” 

“WHahahaht!” 

“Like I said, ask about his career!” Luke said, going back to tickling Marius’ underarms. Marius was giggling and snorting adorably, the grin on his face bigger than ever and a huge blush spreading on his cheeks.

“GAahahah-- a cohohop!?” he asked. Vyn shook his head.

“Can you name any mouse cop? You’ll have to do better than that, Marius,” he said, and he spidered his fingers all over Marius knees and thighs, making the poor ticklish heir bark out some more hysterical cackles.

“GAAGAHha! Not thehehere!” he roared. You were still tickling Marius’ tummy, gently and not too harshly, but you couldn’t help but move up his shirt a little and scribbled circles around on his stomach, fluttering all over the soft bare skin. Marius seemed to get even more flustered at this, and he shook his head. The card threatened to fall off, but Artem slapped it firmly back on Marius’ head, making the guy yelp out loud.

“HAHAHA! Artehehem you ahahaass-ahaha!” 

“Marius, remember the questions I asked when I was Harry Potter,” you tried to help him fondly even though you couldn’t stop your fingers from tickling Marius’ sensitive tummy without mercy. 

“HEYAhah!” Marius squealed and shook his head again, but this time the card was glued firmly to his forehead, and he continued his hysterical laughing fit.

“Hahahha! Ahaham I on T-Teehehee-TV?!” Marius laughed, indeed succeeding to copy your questions from earlier.

“Correct.” 

“OHOhoh! Ahaham I Jeheherry?!” Marius really appeared like he thought he finally guessed correct, but Vyn’s answer was a teasy “No~” and he punished the wrong guess with fierce squeezes right above Marius’ knees, making him howl for his ticklish life.

“AHhahahah! Nohhoho thihis ihiihisn’t fahahahair!” he laughed. You smiled, wonderstruck by how attractive the young heir looked laughing his head off like this.

“It’s a little fair, Marius. Continue guessing, you’re so close,” you encouraged.

“Come on man, can’t you really think of any other famous mouse on TV?” Luke asked - his tickles were the most energetic, switching from rapid pokes and finger wiggles and switching spots even when it would cause his hands to bump against yours or Artem's.

“PIHIHIKACHU!” Marius roared. Luke frowned.

“That’s a mouse?” he asked, to which you nodded.

“Actually it is. But wrong guess, Marius!” 

By now Marius was really turning beet red as he continued to laugh and struggle. Artem had been quiet for a while, tickling Marius with concentration and focus of a typical lawyer, and he smirked as he drilled his fingers between Marius’ ribs.

“I think it is a talent in itself that you give so many wrong guesses, Von Hagen,” he said, triggering Marius but all the graduate student could do was laugh and giggle more as he was attacked from all sides. You only noticed now that his arms were already free again after so much struggling, but both Artem and Luke were holding an arm each, and Marius could do very little with the strength he had left. 

Using their free hands, both men continued to tickle him, making him giggle and squeal even when he was nearly out of breath.

“Guess it right, or give up,” Artem said. Vyn made a face at that.

“Mr. Wing is right,” he said teasingly. “If you would like, you can give up. It means you lose the game.” 

Marius made a face that expressed his surprise and confusion that giving up was still a possibility. But then he shouted “Nahaha-neheheever!” while continuing to squirm in between them.

“Then have it your way~!” Luke said, getting up from where he was sitting so he could tickle his armpits more comfortably. 

“Heeehehehehe! Nahahaha!” You were getting the impression that stubborn Marius was going to laugh himself to death here if he couldn’t still guess the character that wasn’t even so hard. 

Maybe you were enjoying yourself a little too much by bullying your ticklish partner like this, and not just for evil reasons. But when you looked at Artem, Luke and Vyn, you recognized expressions that matched your mood as well. They all looked fond to have the usually arrogant heir laughing like this and refusing to give in.

“Ahahaahahlright I gihihive! Guhuhhuys, enahahaa-enough! I gihiive uuhup!” he finally wheezed. Surprised he still didn’t guess it, you were the first to stop tickling his stomach, and you sat back. Luke also stopped tickling, so did Artem, and finally Vyn stopped the squeezing and digging movements his hands were making on Marius’ legs.  

Leaning forward and bending his head, Marius panted and wheezed, catching his breath tiredly. And as he did, the card finally let go of his sweaty forehead and twirled down onto his lap. It fell with the text upwards, and you could see the realization on Marius’ face as he read it:

Mickey Mouse.

“N-no way,” he panted.

“Not so hard, huh? Can’t believe you didn’t think of the most famous mouse in the world,” Luke said smugly, patting Marius’ shoulder.

“Like I said, you can’t be good at everything,” Artem said, patting his other shoulder. 

“Unbelievable... Mi-Mickey Mouseー” Marius panted, and he raised his head suddenly and glared at everyone.

“You wrote my card, didn’t you-- R-Rosa?” he panted, smirking at you despite his exhausted state. You blinked your eyes.

“King,” you said, using his codename like he kept using yours, and you smiled nervously. 

“She did,” Vyn said, standing behind you with both hands on your shoulders.

“Anything you want to tell her, Mr. Mouse?” he asked. You giggled at the new nickname for Marius, but noticed this certain teasy remark wasn’t necessarily directed at Marius. Gulp. You looked up at Vyn. Why was this situation suddenly getting suspicious? 

“It was also not our idea to play this game. You can’t blame us,” Luke suddenly said. You gasped, turning your head towards him. Wha--?! Yes, it was your idea, so...? You finally looked at Artem, your eyes begging for his help, but you blushed to see the smirk on his face.

“Clever. You perhaps knew that such classic pop culture is Marius’ weakness? Are you the mastermind behind all this?” he said. You started to stutter, blushing like crazy. They were placing the blame for their stupid quarrels and the tickle incident ー which you joined but that wasn’t the point ー on you! 

“N-no of course nohot! Marius I thought it wahahasn’t difficult, ahaahah M-Mariuhuuus!” you whined when Marius lunged at you and started to avenge whatever was left of his dignity by tickling you, the one most responsible for his predicament just now.

“Guys, I might just forgive you for what you did to me if you help me out right now,” Marius purred, smirking at the others. It was no surprise after what all of them said, but still to suddenly have the tables turned with you ending up in Marius’ position of the one tickled by all of the NXX squad, well, that was something you could never ever be properly prepared for.

“HAHahaha- guuuuys!” you howled, but these four had the time of their lives wrecking you, and you were surprised at their well-played teamwork. 

Well all in all, you had achieved your goal though: team bonding, check. Having fun, check. Having a laugh? Thanks to Mr. Mouse, double check! 

[samsspambox]

another one LMAO

[tinymaru-archived]

Not the SSR we got, but the one we deserved.

[solaria-writes]

Handcuffed to your love (nsfw)

Darius/Rosa fic for the #TNW_Kinktober22 day 14 on Twitter! Which is Handcuffs, and who else to bring the spice of handcuffs than out favorite police officer, Darius Morgan!!

[reineyday]

hc that when rosa and marius start dating, luke starts calling marius "mary" and when people ask why (is it short for marius? thats so cute!) luke is like, "nah it's cuz watson's wife is named mary." marius unironically loves this, and takes his role as rosa's wife very seriously.

[yanderelucy2]

Since I am currently on my period I have decided to do what Tears of Themis characters would do when you're on your period!!

Includes Artem, Luke, Vyn, Marius, Vincent, Kiki, and Darius!! These are all on romantic terms btw!

f!reader, I am not good at writing btw

!Might not be character accurate!

Artem Wing

He'd be so prepared and patient, kind, just exactly what you need. He will treat you as if you're sick with a cold or fever, he treats you like a princess when you're on your period, well even when you're not.

Any time he's confused he'll search the internet, but if he still doesn't get it he'll just ask Celestine straight up. It will be embarrassing for him, but out of love for you, he will do it.

Luke Pearce

He knows exactly what to do. Not. He does know the basics of like cramps and blood, but he doesn't understand the back pain, the issues with food, and all that. (I tend to throw up because of cramps, so I don't know how to write calmer cramps..)

He'll buy you supplies and buy you snacks, he'll be understanding if you're moody. He just wouldn't exactly understand how much pain you're in, if you throw up he'll make sure you're all cleaned up and that there's a space on his bed just for you to set up comfortably for a nap. Overall he tries his best and succeeds!

Vyn Ritcher

Knows a lot, he's a doctor for crying out loud. (Yes, I know he's a feelings doctor, but he still works with hospitals and has to study basic medicine) He has female patients, and he has doctor friends.

He knows all the possible outcomes that may appear, and he's very prepared. He'll let you lay in his bed all comfy and mopey, making you a nice snack with some warm tea. He'll probably just lay with you in bed and let you sleep in his arms.

Marius Von Hagen

Sadly I think he'd be too busy to physically take care of you, he'd love to but he just doesn't have time to until later on in the day. He would probably send Vincent to send you some things, and then later at night he'd sneak in and just sleep and cuddle you saying sorry.

If he did have a day off, he wouldn't be super prepared or anything he'd know of it and know what happens, he's not stupid. He just wouldn't get it kind of like Luke, but a little more oblivious. He didn't have a mom growing up and wasn't exactly people of the female sex so his knowledge comes from his dad and the internet. He would buy you chocolates like the internet says to do, and just try not to annoy you. He'd probably avoid you a bit to not annoy you until he realizes your personality doesn't change much except for just being a little ruder to inanimate objects. Overall a cute oblivious mess.

Vincent Kim

Since there isn't much info on his home life I don't know if he has a motherly figure.

He would know what to do and be very responsible when doing it, Marius would probably let him take some breaks when the times available for the two of you. Vincent would probably just check up on you every now and then like normally give you whatever you want and get back to work.

If you are having bad cramps or are getting moody at something he'd panic a little, but then just straight ask for you to tell him what to do. He wouldn't want to bother you or do something wrong, I think he'd be so cute about it all too!!

Kiki Bennet

You and Kiki are synced two miserable messes. Overall though you two cuddle and make sure the both of you are okay. Instead of Kiki taking care of you, you end up taking care of her. She's moodier than you on her period, but just being with her helps ease all the pain away. She actually understands the pain and everything. You two watch whatever she wants to watch and you can sleep in her arms while she continues to watch.

Once you both are done with your periods though she always thinks back on how she acted and ends up feeling guilty and saying sorry.

Darius Morgan

HE'S SO FINE THIS MAN OMG, I WOULD LET THIS MAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTED TO DO WITH ME. LIKE SIR PLEASE FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME... anyways

He'd be very concerned and understanding, similar to Artem but a little more serious and spends less time with you. Since he's busy quite often there's not enough time for him to put as much effort and well time into you when you're in pain, so instead, he'll call you asking if you need anything and if you are okay.

If you say you miss him he'll try to finish work quicker and say he'll try to be home earlier, if you say you do want something from like the store or something he'll send one of the training officers or something to deliver it to you.

Sorry for not posting as frequently lately! Sorry, this is not well written either. I decided to try writing something including the side characters so I hope you guys enjoyed it!