Summary: Demons AU. You've been slumbering as a human for far too long. Time to wake up, time to play. It's been a while since we've last met, my Demon King Arthur.
Warning: Blasphemous themes. Demons. Grammar. One F bomb.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Drag In, Dragged Down
Chapter One: An Hour of Breath
"Have you thought about my offer?"
Arthur glanced down at the stranger who sidled up to him. Black leather jacket, mini skirt, and the devil's grin. He leaned further back on the metal rungs, balancing himself on his elbows and bending his back to an angle where his head lolled dangerously close to the edge. He stared at the dusk sky with its reds, blues, and magenta hues, the last vestiges of light, and tried to count the stars.
There were none out tonight. Only the waning moon.
The beer bottle he had been nursing clinked on the metal rungs of his hotel room's veranda. Was this his sixth or seventh? He couldn't remember – though if he could still think coherently, he obviously hadn't had enough.
He was about to fish around in his pockets for some cigarettes when he remembered that he had quit.
Fat good that gave him. He called it quits too late. He was dying now.
Instead, he took another swig and the dull burn slithered down his throat. He took another three gulps just to spite the woman before responding. "Yes."
"…And? C'mon, don't leave me hanging here. I already gave you three days to think about it. I guarantee that's much more than any other demon will give you," griped the woman. Her coat billowed with the incoming breeze, exposing her shapely legs to the biting cold as her dark hair was wind swept.
Arthur couldn't help but study her side profile. Not out of lust, or any carnal desire. No, it was merely the hungering artist in him appreciating her aesthetics, as fabricated to her advantages as they may be.
In all honesty, she was beautiful. She had delicate features and a slender physique. She had placed her elbows atop the rungs and one hand cradled her chin. Her back arched gracefully in her position and her heeled boots tapped the cement in a rhythm only she knew. Her blue eyes were lined by kohl and her lips were painted the color of freshly spilt blood. Her short locks framed her face in a fashion that softened her qualities even more, invoking a type of false innocence. Though, he knew, she was anything but innocent.
Arthur scoffed, unimpressed. Of course she would be beautiful. Beauty was her seduction, and it was just the thing to lure him in.
Not that he'd make it any easier for her. He'd make this reaping as difficult as possible.
"Why go through so much trouble for one measly soul?" Arthur asked, half out of boredom and half out of intrigue. "We both know you answer to someone else, deny it or not. So why risk yourself for a deal with a dead man?"
The woman giggled. "I dunno. Intuition? Curiosity? The fact that I've been in this profession for so long that I'm willing to take on any type of entertainment? Take your pick. And you're not dead, silly. At least not yet. My schedule has you dying of an… accident in about, oh, give or take an hour."
If that was supposed to comfort him, it did no such thing. These days, only his mind-numbing alcohol and the absent nicotine could do that. He told her so.
Like the damned thing she was, she promptly whipped out a pack of Marlboros, lit one with the snap of her fingers, took a hit, and blew the cloudy smoke ring into his face.
"Fuck you," he said. She giggled obnoxiously.
"You know, if I cared, you could've really hurt my feelings." He glared and told her explicitly where she can shove her feelings. "Tsk, tsk, tsk! Someone's a bit testy. Try to reign in the attitude, mortal. For a man rapidly approaching their death, you're pretty rude to the only divine being willing to deal you salvation."
"It's not salvation when you lay claim to my soul from whence the contract is signed until the end of time."
"I never said it was for free now, did I?" she smiled and her grin was razor sharp. "I said we can make a deal: you will be granted immortality. The only thing is, you'll come do my bidding whenever I ask for it. Quid pro quo."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "And you think I'd just be a docile housecat and follow blindly without any protests?"
"Oh no, not at all," she said as she took another drag and expelled the smoke from her lungs. Arthur was seriously itching for a drag of his own by now. "In fact, I'd be more worried if you suddenly lost your bite and became compliant. No, that's just boring. I've had enough of boring. Centuries do that to you. Don't forget, silly, that you are to be my newest source of entertainment. If anything, breaking you will be the most fun I've had in decades."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You want a slave, and yet you don't want one that will obediently cater to your every whim. Just from what angle are you playing at?"
"Every angle, sweetheart, I'm playing at every angle." She threw her arms wide open in a gesture to present him the darkened city of Los Angeles, the so-called city of angels inhabited by mortal scum. Another drag. Inhale, exhale. "This world, so full of people. So full of corruption. So full of endless possibilities.
She turned her head to gaze at him tenderly. She knew Arthur had nothing to tie him to world, no family, no friends – his addiction had cost him that. Bluntly speaking, he was alone and damaged. She knew she had Arthur from the very beginning, three days ago, when she first appeared to him. She knew that he would say yes. She knew the outcome of it all, but it's the thrill of the hunt she's after, not the end. She wondered how long until she breaks him.
"Humans are such fragile beings and they provide amusement to creatures like me. This world is truly a demon's playground, and even demons need playmates." She outstretched her hand, palm up, specifically, the one holding the pack of Marlboros. "Join me?"
Arthur stared and paused for a minute before he moved.
Nonchalantly, he took the pack and tapped it unto his knuckles until one stick slides out from the opening. He placed it in between his lips and grabbed hold of the woman's nape, pushing her forward towards him as he lights his joint with the spark from hers. His eyes conveyed an unspoken message. From there, he outright ignored her as he alternated between swigs from his beer and hits from his cigarette, still precariously leaning against the metal rungs.
The woman giggled. All according to plan. Without word, the contract was well and signed.
This one will not be a bore, she knew. "Expect a visit from me in a week," and with that, she flicked his balance with a finger, tipped his body over the rungs, and unto the awaiting asphalt fourteen floors below did his remains splatter with a wet sound.
Just in time too – his hour was up.
"Oh, how gullible of you and how messy of me," she mused. To grant him immortality, she needed to get rid of his weak, mortal body. Instead, she'll make him one out of her own, rip out a rib and mold his new meat suit from it perhaps. Besides, she already owns his soul anyway. What difference does possessing his body too make? She's had him before.
And he's had "her" too. Night and night again, in a time long gone.
She snapped her fingers in glee. In a split second, where the woman had been standing now stood a man.
Broad build, black hair, blue eyes, a smirk full of promises, and a deep, rich, sensual timbre voice rang.
"You've been slumbering as a human for too long. Time to wake up. It's been a while since we've last met, my Demon King Arthur."
A/N: Hello and thank you for reading. English is my second language. Please PM me your corrections if you see any mistakes! Otherwise, tell me what you think!
I wrote this for a creative writing assignment, then just later changed the names and descriptions to Arthur and Alfred.
Inspired by: Hannibal, Hell Girl, Childish Sadism (check out their work here on FF!) and an unhealthy long list of Doujinshis.
Haruhasu