if the shoe (ring) fits
in which we meet ichirou, who’s a lot more tolerant to neil’s fuckery than expected.
“Condolences on your father,” Neil said, respectfully with a gentle bow of his head.
He had not liked Kengo Moriyama. The man had been brusque and ruthless, and sickeningly traditional. In a way it was why he and Nathan had be been so well matched together.
“Condolences on yours,” said Kengo’s son, looking out across the sea of milling individuals, dabbing their eyes with napkins and clasping each other’s wrists. Kengo’s brother was down there, somewhere, but not his second son. Nor his wife, who was killed for allowing Riko to exist.
The funeral was plasticky. Neil had never actually been to a funeral, seeing as his mother had been thrown into the bottom of a lake and his father had died whilst incarcerated.
Neil hummed, settling down beside Ichirou.
“We need to talk about your security.”
Neil paused a moment before rolling his eyes. “This again?”
“Yes,” the man said, one eyebrow arched. “How do you expect to continue a dynasty without a child?”
“I’ll have a child,” Neil said offhandedly, even if the idea terrified him. Every day he walked around wondering if there was a switch in his body that’d turn him into Nathan, or at least open up and shove him down the path to become him. Perhaps having a child was that trigger. As a coddling infant, Neil could remember one or two moments of peace and joy with his father, before Nathan decided Neil was a good target for his anger. “Anyone can have a child.”
Neil had never, and would never, have sex with a woman, so long as he was still with Andrew. Which he fully intended to be. But he assumed that it was relatively simple.
“You need a wife,” Ichirou’s voice was cold. “There are many good candidates that you can evaluate -”
“I’m already married,” Neil blurted out. Oops. Andrew was not going to be pleased that Ichirou knew before even he did.
Ichirou finally turned from overseeing his father’s funeral, up on his prestigious balcony, to look at Neil. His eyes were impossibly narrowed. “You’re what?”
“My lord,” Neil said, emphatically. “It has been successfully strategic. This person diverts police attention away from me and the Wesninski name, which in turn includes your name. I do believe I avoided telling you because I didn’t want to trouble you whilst your father was ill.”
“Bullshit, Nathaniel,” Ichirou bulstered, his calm facade broken. He looked very tired and a little incredulous. “I can’t believe you’re married to that fucking cop. Seriously? I could have looked around him being a man, but a police officer?”
Neil shrugged. “It’s worked for us.” He jostled the man’s shoulder. “I forget you’re only a few years older than me, with the way you act like a wall.”
“Yeah, well,” Ichirou muttered. “Neither of us can live up to how our fathers wanted us to be, I suppose. Gay and married to a cop,” he scoffed, but it was almost a laugh. “Your father would’ve had an aneurysm.”
“Not gay,” Neil muttered. “And he did. That’s how he died.” Blunt trauma to the head, clotting, aneurysm, boom: no more Nathan. No one was sad about it.
“You need an heir of your blood and bone, still,” Ichirou insisted. “Not letting you get away with that one.”
Neil waved him off. “Surrogacy with Allison. We’re in the modern world, Ichirou. There’s always a solution.” He wasn’t about to say that he didn’t intend on sticking around for that long.
Ichirou considered him for a bit, before turning back with a resumed stony expression. “Don’t forget your place, Wesninski.” After a few moments, he added “Congratulations.”
Neil felt something settle in his stomach. Relief.
Now he just had to tell Andrew.
The apartment was dark when Neil arrived home, lugging his little suitcase through the door. He’d only gone to New York for the weekend, of which Andrew had been thoroughly peeved about: they both worked long hours during the week, and weekend were meant to be their time.
It was easier now that they lived together. They’d moved in a year ago: it meant Neil only needed heightened security detail on one place rather than two, the rent was cheaper together (not that Neil really needed to worry about that), and it was closer to Andrew’s precinct than his old place.
The dusty yellow lamp was still on in their bedroom despite the late (or early) hour. Neil left his suitcase out by the couch and tip-toed his way into their room.
He had fallen asleep reading, the book on his chest and head at an awkward angle on the pillow. Neil grinned: Nicky had given him a set of grinch-themed sleep clothes last year for Christmas. He wondered how many times Andrew would stab him if he took a photo and sent it to his cousin.
Andrew had to be up for work and Neil wanted to avoid waking him if he could, so he dressed in pyjamas as quietly as he could manage and eased himself onto the mattress. The bed was pushed up against the wall so that Andrew could sleep with his back curled against it, so Neil could easily relieve Andrew of his book, settle it on their one nightstand and switch off the lamp. Then he held Andrew’s shoulder lightly, and tried to ease him into a better position that wouldn’t hurt his neck.
Andrew made a few light noises before rolling and almost squishing Neil underneath him. Neil laughed as Andrew’s arm came around Neil’s chest, his face settling into the crook of Neil’s shoulder.
Neil twisted around till his back was against Andrew’s chest and let himself relax. He’d worry about the marriage proposal later.
Neil knew, objectively, that Andrew wouldn’t say no to marrying him. They were kind of a forever package: The four years since they’d first met and just over three years since they first got together have been as smooth as any relationship between a mobster and a police officer could be.
Neither of them had really sat down and said that out loud though: they each had their fair share of problems than inhibited any such emotional conversation. But Neil still knew.
It was in the way Andrew cooked him his favourite meal when he got home at eleven at night, exhausted and haunted by screams, continually scrubbing at his hands. It was in every sacrifice Andrew made for Neil, the faith he put into Neil’s promises that they wouldn’t have to live they way they did forever.
“You have something to tell me,” Andrew said the following night, when he’d arrived home from work. Neil put dinner down on the table - mac ‘n’ cheese, with nothing remotely healthy about it - and Andrew arched his eyebrow.
Neil sighed and slumped into his chair opposite him, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It was suddenly very warm. Had he turned the oven off?
“Neil,” Andrew warned. “Did something happen in New York?”
“Oh, you know,” Neil said, lightly. “Nothing really. I, uh,” Andrew leaned closer, eyes narrower. “I may have told Ichirou we’re married to get him off my back?”
For a moment, Andrew stared.
“So, what do you think?” Neil asked, voice reed-thin. “I’d change my vows to be ‘CI till death do us part’.”
It didn’t seem like the joke went down well: Andrew’s chair skidded back as the man stood, immediately vanishing from the living room. The bedroom door clicked firmly shut behind him and Neil put his head in his hands. It was too soon, or Andrew didn’t feel the same, or maybe this was Neil’s final straw and now he’d fucked up one too many times for Andrew to tolerate.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck.”
It’s not like Neil was hell-bent on marriage either - he’d seen the bloodied divorce between his own parents - but it put the two of them on a different page. There was no way that Neil would force Andrew into something he didn’t want - or that Andrew would let him - but it’d be a rift between them. Maybe even permanently.
Neil didn’t want to lose Andrew over this. He should have waited - it’s not like Ichirou would have actually checked legal records to see if they were properly married - they’d only been dating for three years, that wasn’t that long by modern standards, if Neil wasn’t so ridiculously irrational then this wouldn’t have been a problem. He wouldn’t lose Andrew over his loose tongue, when there were plenty of valid reasons for Andrew to leave him -
Neil looked up, movements jerky and uncoordinated. His limbs felt dismembered. Andrew was stood by the table, watching him with hooded eyes and curled fists.
Neil made a weak noise of inquiry. It broke in his throat.
“Stop thinking,” Andrew clarified, slowly sitting back down on his chair. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Neil snorted, rubbing the corner of his eye. After another moment of terse silence, Neil cleared his throat. “I can fix it. I shouldn’t have said anything, Andrew - ”
Lightning fast, Andrew reached over their food and put something on the table. For a moment the little velvet box didn’t register in Neil’s mind, but then his stomach was rolling on the floor, heart swooping and soaring. With careful fingers, he picked up the box and opened it.
Within were two silver bands, identical but for the size. Simple. Glossy. Neil took out the smaller one and slipped it on - it fit perfectly, of course. The new weight on his finger felt odd. Odd but good.
“How the fuck did you get my size?” Neil remarked, quiet. Everything was very quiet, but for his heart, which was probably thudding loud enough that even the corpses in Linkin Park could hear.
Splotches of colour appeared on Andrew’s cheeks. “You were napping.”
Neil laughed, admiring it. He wasn’t fussed about jewellery, or ceremonies, or titles or heirs or tradition. He just wanted to know that he’d go to sleep and wake up by Andrew’s side, every day that he could.
“Yes?” Andrew asked, just to be sure.
Neil took Andrew’s left hand where it was resting on the table top and slipped on his respective wrist, kissing his knuckles in lieu of an answer.
“You cannot have ‘Nathaniel Wesninski’ on your marriage papers, Andrew. Are you insane?”
“You’re not taking my name. Or hyphenating.”
Neil huffed out a laugh. “Wesninski-Minyard. No, thank you.”
Andrew scoffed. “I think you mean Minyard-Wesninski.”
Neil shook his head, leaning into Andrew’s shoulder. A lot of time had gone into not reacting to that name with visceral disgust, like it would have a few years ago. “I’ve been meaning to change my name for a while now. For real.”
Andrew looked at him. “They’d allow that?”
“Who cares about them?” Neil said, fierce. “It’s just a name. If they’re upset by that, they’ll be devastated by the knife in their stomach. Fuck them.”
Andrew hummed. “What will you change it to?”
Neil took the file of paperwork they were meant to fill out from Andrew’s la, already bored out of his skull. His legs filled the space, draped over Andrew’s lap. Neil pressed an open mouthed kiss to the corner of Andrew’s jaw, to which he rolled his eyes and muttered “Fine,” even though he was just as sick of the paperwork as Neil was.
“You already know what I’ll change it to,” Neil said, letting Andrew pick him up and carry him to their room.
“Neil Abram Hatford,” Andrew mumbled, laying Neil down atop of his side of the bed. It was unmade, as usual. He grinned and kicked the sheets away with two errant flicks of his feet, arms looped around Andrew’s neck. “Has a ring to it.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew muttered. Neil just laughed.
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I'd like to request something on reader sweetly pegging sasara, samatoki, ichiro and dice, I'd like harem au, but you can choose the format, au and other specifications you'd like. Thanks for the wonderful writing you do every time.
Since you said “sweetly”, I tried to make this one cute and gentle~ :3
. . .
Anything with Sasara is a laughing matter... whether you like it or not. Getting him prepped to take your toy ends in both of you smiling like crazy, and Sasara squirming restlessly by the time you’re done.
“Do it already,” he whines.
“You’re eager,” you tease right back. “Wanna get fucked that badly?”
Sasara gives a clear affirmative, not a hint of shame in sight. He trusts you. You don’t know how, but he trusts you more than you’d ever expected.
The toy pushes in. You go slow, but deep, and in no time, Sasara is panting and whimpering at the stretch. Another thrust back in makes him squeak and twist where you have him all but pinned, and the noise that escapes him makes him laugh immediately after.
“I sound so weird!” he snickers. “Mmm, I’m trying to think of a joke, but I think you’re fucking my brains out already.” That’s a surprise. Sasara never seems to be short for stupid puns.
“Then let me do an even better job.” With that promise, you shift his leg up, adjust your angle, and thrust in with a sharp force that makes him shriek like you’re killing him.
When you look at Sasara’s face, his eyes are open wide.
On his back and bared to you completely, Samatoki looks exactly as embarrassed as you’d expected. Even with all you’ve done to him in the time he’s been with you, this is new.
“Stick it in already...” he mumbles, clearly not happy with the way his legs are spread and his now-loose hole is fully exposed.
“I’m getting there,” you say, and run your hands up his sides.
Of course, Samatoki melts into the contact. He’s more touch-starved than he wants to admit, after all. You slowly push inside of his open, willing body, and delight in the way his eyes go wide at the sudden pleasure. You can guess he wasn’t expecting it to feel this good at all.
A strangled noise tears out of him— then a louder one when you thrust in all over again. The look on his face is absolutely precious.
“That was cute,” you laugh. Samatoki attempts to shoot you a death glare, but it’s entirely ruined when you strike his prostate again. Instead, he all but whimpers.
“Sh-Shut up!” Even his backtalk lacks its usual bite.
You’re going to fuck this man until he can’t stand up on his own when you’re done. He’s being so cute, he’s going to get wrecked.
When you slowly push inside, Ichirou moans. It’s a sweet, pleasured noise, lacking any of the pain you’re certain he was expecting.
The strap-on isn’t particularly large or thick. You’re going easy on him for now, even though you know this is far from his first time taking something like this. Consider it a gesture of gentleness.
“Feel good?” you ask him.
“Y-Yeah,” he answers, sounding a bit like his brain is melting under the ripples of pleasure you’re sending through him with every little thrust.
Ichirou is on his back specifically so you can see his pretty face. His mismatched eyes flutter with pleasure, and when you wrap your hand around his quickly hardening cock, he groans at the same time that his hips buck up into the touch.
The dazed look on his face almost makes you laugh— and yet, it’s kind of heartbreaking, at the same time. Is this the first time something like this has actually felt good for him, instead of merely being used?
You pull back and slide in again, slow and deep.
The toy must scrape over his prostate, because Ichirou shudders all over and lets out a low, overwhelmed sound. When he gets his eyes open enough to look at you, he’s smiling gratefully.
Dice is the type who never stops moving. He wriggles around too much when you prep him, and never, never shuts up. Whether he’s muttering to himself or rambling out loud, there’s never a quiet moment.
Even when you push into him, he moans loud. You give a series of short, nudging thrusts, and that moan rises to a keen.
“F-Fuck, c’mon, more—” he whines, still squirming.
“Be good, and I’ll give you more,” you scold, grabbing his hips to try to keep him still. Even flat on his back, Dice finds a way to move and buck into everything you do.
In return, he smiles. “But it feels good. I want it. I want you. Come on.” Still complaining, he wraps his legs around your hips and pulls you in.
You roll your eyes, but draw back and shove right back in nonetheless. Dice, as you’re expecting, all but shrieks. The sudden pressure against where he needs it most makes his whole body writhe. That park makes you smirk. Now, it’s entirely involuntary.
He gets louder and louder as you fuck him, soon spewing praise about how good the toy in his ass feels. His dick drools a steady stream of clear pre against his stomach. You have him right where you want him.
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East Tower Scene
Okay, so one of the most pivotal and interesting scenes of the foxhole court is when riko and ichirou meet for the first time. It’s a very powerful image--two brothers meeting for the first (?) time-- nevermind that one is the head of one of the most powerful gangs in the world and the other has...er...issues. And then, one of them kills the other, without any aplomb. It’s a very haunting image, and it’s also a great window into Ichirou and Riko’s characters, as well as Tetsuji’s and Neil’s. Less so for Neil’s uncle, Stuart, but he, too, gets a little bit of development. But the two characters I really want to talk (rant) about are Ichirou and Riko. I find their relationship (or lack of one, haha) very interesting.
Let’s start with Ichirou. We know already from Neil’s interactions from him that he’s a very composed, cold character. Menacing. Granted, this is probably been twisted because of Neil’s POV-- Ichirou has a lot of power over him, and Neil doesn’t know if he’s going to let him live (at one point, Neil even worries that Ichirou has just arranged for the deaths of all the foxes).
Kengo, at the time of Neil meeting with Ichirou, has just passed away, and it is unclear whether or not Ichirou is grieving. My interpretation, however, that he is not too upset at his father’s death (or at least not showing any grief)-- he tests Neils immediately, asking him why he hasn’t offered his condolences, and throughout the meeting does not reference his father in any meaningful way. Ichirou’s a very cold character, from the very first meeting to the very last (he’d have to be, growing up where he did). It’s also interesting that Neil catalyzed Riko’s death-- yes, Riko laid the groundwork, and yes, Ichirou was known to be cutting losses and tying loose ends at the time (“Little boss is cleaning house and cutting losses...Bloody, too.”), but Neil is the one who brings attention to all of Riko’s clumsy maneuvering and posturing (it is possible, too, that Ichirou already knew of these things, and that Neil repeating this information contributed to Ichirou deciding to leave Neil alive). Ichirou also had incentive to kill Riko in the first place. Riko represented a danger to his power because he was the younger brother, and, if Ichirou died without having children, Riko would inherit the Moriyama empire. Sure, he was estranged and it was clear he was far less influential than the main branch Moriyamas, but he was still powerful enough to pose a threat (I don’t think, though, that Riko would have acted on this power against Ichirou until much later in life, which I will explain later). Ichirou planned Riko’s death (it was not a last-minute thing-- why else would Ichirou hand the gun off to another man? Ichirou didn’t want to touch his brother’s corpse, for various reasons). Regardless of whether or not the Ravens won, Riko was a dead man.
Another facet of Ichirou is revealed in the scene in the East tower: weeks before, when meeting in the car, Ichriou tells Neil that he’s not worth his time of day, but Ichirou visited because of his father (Nathan). It is interesting to note that while Ichirou did not deem Riko important enough to invite him to their father’s funeral, he did deem him important enough to kill in-person, which is an odd dichotomy-- a bit paradoxical, like Ichirou only after the funeral realized that Riko was, indeed, important. Maybe he eliminated him personally because he was a threat, or because Ichirou considered him an embarrassment to the family name, or maybe even because he wanted Riko to know he wanted him dead. In any case, his change in attitude is definitely an indicator of personality.
Riko didn’t know he was a dead man, not right up until the Ravens had lost and his arm was broken.
But first I’m going to talk about Riko’s obedience. Okay, so here’s the thing about Riko: he’s awful, and acts out and hurts people purposefully, (badly, too), but he only does so in places where he feels secure about his power (I am not defending him! Merely attempting to explain, maybe, some of his character!). When he’s not in control, he’s relatively obedient, like he was raised to be. That’s the thing with Riko: he will do anything to please the Moriyamas, specifically his father and Ichiro (he’s already learned that trying to please Tetsuji is a lost cause, and besides Tetsuji is not his father). He plays Exy obsessively because he wants to please them and make (his father) proud/care about him, even if it’s just as an investment (Riko has also been groomed from a young age into thinking that Exy is the only thing can is allowed/can do, so he feels that he’s got to be the best, otherwise he’ll never gain his father’s favor. That’s definitely a contributing factor in why he broke Kevin’s hand-- he felt threatened and was afraid that Kevin would destroy his chances at winning his father’s favor. It probably didn’t occur to Riko until later that his father would never pay attention to him, regardless of Kevin). Again, Riko wouldn’t ever think of betraying his brother or father until maybe later on in his life (but he never got the chance, did he?).
In the East Tower scene, Riko knows that he is going to die. He knows that he left money trails, he knows that his broken arm might impair him from the one thing he was trained to do (Exy), he knows that Tetsuji will not defend him (and why should he? Riko, at this point, has ruined the Raven’s reputation [beating Jean nearly to death]), and he knows that his brother likely considers him to be a bad investment. Neil describes Riko as being “shuttered and hollow”-- by this point, Riko’s lost everything that’s valuable to him, except his life. His career in Exy has been threatened by his injury (which he, ironically, would not have gotten if he’d kept his temper in check like a decent human being), he just lost to the Foxes (there goes his enormous, delicate pride!), his father is dead, and his brother is there to off him. Exy, and his hopes for familial acceptance, the two major driving forces in his life, were gone. Even so, Riko doesn’t try to resist or flee (he probably knew it’d be useless anyway). The only time that Riko may have been begging for his life is when he says “Ichirou”, but we don’t really know. Then, Riko goes quiet (in shock) when his brother touches his cheek. He knew that he was looking death in the face, and then-- and then, his brother touches him. It definitely highlights his human-ness in a way that the rest of the books don’t, because, well, asshole. Anyway, I’ll probably think about this a lot more, but these are my opening thoughts on the scene in the East Tower. Enjoy?
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