#clothing the ladies unnecessarily bared one scene at a time

[flo-n-flon]

"Do not let Lan follow me. He will try, if he sees me."

#The Shadow Rising #The wheel of time #wot book spoilers #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #book: wheel of time #character: moiraine damodred #character: lan mandragoran #fanart #clothing the ladies unnecessarily bared one scene at a time #but yeah I finished TFoH and UH #that quote is resonant #I was not fine during that scene in TSR #a lot of it is the strain between them and how little we get of them and suddenly this scene which is desperate and completely silent #come talk to me about those two because I am devastated #I have still one scene I want to draw from TSR but it's going to be the hardest emotionally #I am afraid

[patchwork-panda]

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない”  Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single                 

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here                                        

It’s well past last call when you leave. 

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up. 

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that. 

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...” 

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x y/n

[psychosistr]

Green-Eyed Monsters- Chapter 5

Summary: Dominic finally gets the chance to deal with the women who’ve been irritating him all evening, though one of them still manages to get the better of him and his partner.

Notes: Very slight trigger warning in this one for a scene involving someone being knocked out by a poisoned needle and Emelia trying to follow through on her plan, but nothing as bad as the last chapter.

-First Chapter-

Following his partner and the heiress had been trickier than Dominic expected. He had to stay close enough to see which turns they took while staying downwind of the vulpine vixen to avoid detection. Then there was the matter of the guards patrolling the halls- they were always absent from whatever hall the pair found themselves in, but the loon noticed they were quick to return to one of the other halls nearby within thirty seconds of the two passing, leaving their uninvited follower to quickly follow in their footsteps and duck behind some ridiculously unnecessarily lavish piece of hall furniture. (Seriously, who needs THAT many tables and counters set up just to hold a single vase of the same arrangement of flowers per surface? The aesthetic is nice, but it’s so wasteful and repetitive- at least change up the flowers or something!) Eventually, though, the two entered a room with an extremely ornate door that left no question as to whom it belonged to.

Slipping behind them before the heavy door could swing shut all the way, Dominic used his dark feathers and clothing to help him blend in with the few shadows surrounding the entryway of the grand master bedroom. Honestly, it felt more like he was in an upscale condo with how big the room was: The room had two levels with a small staircase leading up to a large balcony area dedicated to holding the largest bed the loon had EVER seen- it had to be an Alaskan-king, it was even bigger than the California-king in Steelbeak’s room- with a circular shape, ornate golden base and headboard, silken sheets under a dark red comforter, and a sheer black curtain-style canopy suspended from the ceiling above it. The lower level was split. Half of it served as a lounge area with several expensive pieces of leather furniture, hand-carved wooden tables, a small bar with two seats in front of it, and even a large fireplace with a TV mounted above it. The other half seemed to be an office space of some kind with a large desk, locked filing cabinet, and computer all set up near the ornate windows that provided a view of the city in the distance. There were a couple of closed doors that Dominic assumed to be the bathroom and/or closets, but he had little time to contemplate it as the foxy femme led his partner up the staircase towards the gigantic bed.

Steelbeak gave an impressed whistle as he willingly followed his hostess’s lead, leaning heavily on the railing to keep his balance as he swayed with each step. “Real’ swanky digs ya got here. Ever think ‘bou-” Whatever he’d been about to say turned into a squawk as he was shoved face-first into the thick red comforter. It took the metal-mouthed fowl a moment to roll over and look back up at the perpetrator, the act of doing so apparently leaving him dizzy and disoriented. “Woah…you don’t waste time, do ya..?”

Emelia smirked down at the now prone rooster below her as she climbed on top of him, one hand on his chest to help her keep her balance (and partially pin him in place) while the other slid sensually down her body to keep his attention. “What can I say? I’ve never been one for patience~” As the hand on the fowl’s chest slid lower, the one on the vulpine’s own body reached for something under the edge of the blankets. “Now…let’s stop playing games and cut to the chase~” Furry fingers found their mark- a dagger with a bejeweled hilt that had been tucked away in wait for the pair’s arrival.

Just as she began to grip the decorative base, however, the barrel of a silencer-equipped pistol was pressed against the back of the rich woman’s head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“!!” Green eyes widening in panicked realization, Emelia turned her head just enough to see the rather agitated man standing behind her. The look of barely-restrained rage made it clear that he would NOT hesitate to pull the trigger if she so much as breathed the wrong way. “You-?!”

“Took ya long enough, stripes.” Steelbeak took the opportunity to lazily push the stunned woman off of his lap and sit up, going slow enough that his partner could keep his gun trained on her. “An’ here I thought you’d changed your mind an’ decided t’ leave without me~” While his voice still showed signs of intoxication, it was nowhere near the apparent act he’d been putting on up to that point.

“What?!” Temporarily forgetting about the weapon still threatening her life, the confused billionaire’s head whipped around to stare at the lighter bird incredulously. “HOW?! I gave you enough to drug a rhinoceros! How are you still-?!”

“Don’t take it personal, doll. I’m sure that little ‘trick’ o’ yours works just fine on the guys that’re too busy droolin’ over ya t’ see straight before their first drink.” Steelbeak stood up from the bed, still swaying slightly in place but not fighting gravity as he had been less than a minute ago. “Unfortunately for you-” He gave the foxy lady a cocky smirk as he leaned over and plucked her earrings from her ears. “-my standards are a bit higher.” The end of the rooster’s explanation(/insult) was accompanied by a wink sent in the shorter man’s direction.

Despite the scowl on his face, Dominic felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the gesture. Darn those gray eyes- they made it really hard to stay mad at him.

Reminding himself that now was neither the time nor place to think about forgiving his partner for his words downstairs, the loon rolled his red eyes and shook his head. “If you’re done making a fool of yourself, we should be leaving.” Turning his attention back to the one still on the bed, Dominic’s expression hardened as he pressed the barrel of his gun more forcefully against the mammal’s head. “There’s just one loose end to tie up before we go…”

“Actually, would you mind letting me borrow her first?” An annoyingly familiar voice chimed in from behind the loon. “I need her passwords~”

Already knowing- and dreading- who would be there, Dominic looked back at the new addition to the conversation with a glare that spoke volumes of how badly he wanted to pull the trigger on BOTH women and be done with them for good. “When did you get here?” The venom in his voice was even deadlier than the look in his eyes.

“About two seconds after you did~” Showing no signs of fear whatsoever at the short-fused sharpshooter’s tone of voice, Maravilla just smiled calmly from her spot seated on the railing at the top of the staircase. “I wanted to help make sure our dear chief officer stayed in one piece, but it seems you have the situation under control. Good job~”

Dominic seriously contemplated shooting the jaybird for her patronizing tone alone, but held back- albeit just barely. “I am more than capable of seeing to my partner’s safety on my own.”

Steelbeak muttered something in response that sounded frustrated, but the loon didn’t have a chance to question him on it as Maravilla hopped off of the railing and sauntered over to the other birds. “I can see that, and I’m quite impressed~” Showing absolutely no fear (was this woman afraid of anything??), the lady in red lifted up the longer portion of her dress just enough to reveal a knife tucked securely into a garter belt. “Now, darling-” Once the black-handled needle-point dagger was removed from its sheath, one purple hand grabbed the heiress by the base of her long locks and guided her towards the stairs- the knife staying close to her throat in a clear warning not to scream or try to run. “-let’s have a little talk…just you, me, and all of those sweet little files on your hard drive~”

Frustrated, but clearly not in the mood to die tonight, Emelia allowed herself to be dragged to her desk downstairs and provided the smaller woman with the necessary numbers and letters whenever different boxes popped up on the computer screen.

Domino glared down at the women below with a scowl, arms folded as he leaned on them against the railing overlooking the rest of the room. “I could set both of them on fire from here…that would be effective…” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“Nah, not worth it.” The taller fowl joined his partner, hands pressed against the railing for support to keep himself steady. “Mara might be hard t’ get along with, but she’s good at what she does an’ we need all the inside-help we can get ‘gainst those losers at SHUSH.” He shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “’sides, I don’t wanna deal with her boss- Vi’s less of a headache than that guy…and less likely t’ try stealin’ my job.”

“Hmh.” The sound was one of acknowledgement, but not necessarily agreeing. Dominic wasn’t ready to be civil with his partner quite yet. “Did your plan include a way out of here without getting caught by the guards?”

The answer he received was a calm shrug. “Figured we’d just jump out the window.” An off-white thumb gestured towards the windows along the right side of the room. “Pretty sure we’re near the car.” A thought seemed to occur to him and he reached into his pocket, retrieving something and holding it out before dropping it in the loon’s unarmed hand. “Here.”

Looking into his hand, Dominic saw the rooster’s keys had been deposited in his palm. “Really? You expect me to drive that gaudy monstrosity?” Despite his annoyed tone, the darker bird was aware of how big of a deal this was. Steelbeak never let ANYONE else drive his car- he barely even allowed anyone to SIT in it unless he was sure they wouldn’t track in anything that might stain his “baby”.

“She ain’t gaudy, she’s classy.” Steelbeak corrected with a roll of his eyes. “And yeah, I’m lettin’ you drive my baby- but just this once.” Before the shorter man could show his (sarcastic) appreciation for the other’s “generosity”, he continued in a quiet but serious tone. “I’m good ‘nough t’ walk an’ stand up for a few minutes, but not enough t’ drive…you’ll have t’ do it this time.”

“……” That drug must have been something to make Steelbeak admit to even THAT much of his current state. If he was really that bad off, then Dominic knew it would be best to save the rest of their “discussion” for later. For now, he’d rather get his partner to one of FOWL’s doctors to make sure there wouldn’t be any long-term side effects (he doubted anyone was expected to survive after receiving the proper dosage, let alone the amount Steelbeak had ingested). “..Fine. I’ll drive your tacky little toy this time. But no complaining when you have to readjust the seat and mirrors later.”

That managed to bring the smallest of grins to the rooster's beak. “Deal……but you ain’t touchin’ my radio.” And that earned a slight quirking of the loon’s mouth, as well.

“Awww, are the lovebirds done fighting?” An infuriating voice called up to them from below. When the deadly duo looked down at the other agent still occupying the room with them, they saw Maravilla removing a flash drive from the computer before tucking it away safely into her garter belt. “Good, because it’s time to go- I’m pretty sure our esteemed hostess here tried to trip a silent alarm while she was logging in.” The purplish jay gestured to the currently unconscious fox now lying sprawled out across her work desk, a small needle sticking up from the back of her exposed neck. “Luckily, I already got what I needed~” Making her way up the stairs to her fellow FOWL agents, the lady in red seated herself right between the two on the railing they were leaning against. “So, do you two have an escape plan?”

Steelbeak gestured once again to the large windows beside them. “Figured we’d take the express route.”

Maravilla giggled gleefully and placed one small purple hand over Steelbeak’s much larger off-white one. “A man after my own heart~”

Dominic glared down at the offending appendage, barely resisting the urge to smack it away from his partner- or better yet, break those pretty purple phalanges permanently. Instead, he chose to poignantly nudge the woman’s hand away with the tip of his gun, hoping that would get his point across. “If time is of the essence, then we should leave. Now.”

Clearly aware of the darker bird’s growing ire, the double agent gave him a playful smirk and made direct eye contact with him while giving his partner’s hand one last squeeze. “I suppose you have a point~” Rather than slide down from the railing and walk to the window on the floor like anyone else would, Maravilla opted instead to swing her legs up onto the railing and walk to the window that way, her closed hands held out on either side of her to help with her balance. “It’s been fun, boys~ We’ll have to do it again sometime~” Still perched precariously on the railing of the balcony, the jaybird kneeled down enough to unlatch the window before standing upright and looking back at the duo- at Dominic, in particular- with a smirk. “Oh, before I go, would you mind doing me a favor and shooting at me a few times?”

“Gladly.” Dominic needed no further prompting or explanation, he just raised his pistol and aimed it right at the woman’s head.

Steelbeak seemed to find the whole thing amusing, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Gotta get your ‘danger fix’ in before ya go, Mara?”

The colorful avian giggled, bringing one of her closed hands up to her beak. “Ah, you know me too well, Steely~” Then, the look in her eyes changed from playful to devious. “Really, though, I just thought it’d be more…believable. After all, it’s not like you’d just let me get away with this, right?” In lieu of an explanation, the double-agent’s hand opened to reveal a very familiar earring with a very unique green diamond in the center.

“!!” Standing up straighter with a surprised squawk, Steelbeak looked down at the hand he’d had the earrings in- the same hand that Maravilla had been touching moments ago- and discovered that he now held only ONE of the priceless gemstone-adorned trinkets in his palm. “How the h-?!”

Maravilla winked at the baffled rooster coyly. “Nothing personal, Steely- but it would look bad if I was in the room with a couple of FOWL agents and didn’t at least TRY to stop them from getting what they wanted, right?”

Having had more than enough of the duplicitous diva’s tricks, Dominic wasted no time in finally pulling the trigger on his silenced pistol. “Why, you-!!”

“Thanks, tough guy! That’s just what I needed!” Maravilla merely laughed at the blood-thirsty look in the loon’s eyes as she made a leap for the window. The pane of glass flew open without breaking, allowing the purplish jay to swan-dive from the bedroom and out into the cool night air like a professional diver.

Luckily for her, the reckless avian’s companion was waiting right below the window the moment she jumped out. “Mari!” Lining herself up with her fellow agent, Xaviera managed to catch the free-falling woman by bracing one of her long legs against the wall and extending her arm to make sure she caught Maravilla’s head and torso properly. “Oof!” The impact left her a little shaken, but the fact that she was still standing after catching the other woman was a testament to the vulture’s strength. “Are you-?” Before she could finish her question, the gunshots still ringing from above caught her attention. “!!” Adjusting her grip so that Maravilla could grab onto her neck and shoulders while Xaviera’s arm looped around beneath her legs, the taller woman took off in a sprint towards the surrounding forest (she was certainly grateful she chose to wear her sandals for this mission).

Once the two were far enough away, Maravilla looked up at the lighter avian with a playful smile. “See? I told you I’d save a dance for you~”

Slowing to a walk once she was sure they weren’t being chased, Xaviera sighed and shook her head. “That wasn’t exactly the kind of dance I was hoping for..”

“Aw, you didn’t like it?” Putting on a clearly fake pout, one of the femme fatale’s fingers started tracing patterns on the other woman’s neck. “Well, then..” The colorful digit made its way up to the vulture’s head, teasingly twining a lock of the other’s long hair around her finger tip. “I’ll just have to give you a better one later…after all, I hate leaving a lady unsatisfied~”

A brilliant red that could have rivaled the shorter bird’s dress quickly blossomed across the one armed woman’s face and part of her neck. “I-! Bu-wha-no! I mean, yes, but-! Not like that-! I just-! I didn’t-!” Trying to salvage what remained of her dignity (though at this point she doubted there was much of it left), Xaviera cleared her throat and quickly shook her head. “You-You should be more careful next time. What you did was very dangerous and broke several SHUSH protocols.”

The shorter woman’s pout returned with a vengeance. “Are you going to report me to big-bad-Gryzlikoff?”

Xaviera seriously considered it for a moment- Maravilla’s actions went so far against protocol that she’d likely get written up for her misconduct…………but, looking into the jaybird’s pleading eyes, the vulture’s resolve crumbled. Darn those pretty eyes.. “N…No. Not this time…just, please promise me you’ll be more careful next time, okay..?”

And, like magic, the pout vanished and was replaced with a beaming smile. “Aww…see? This is why you’re my favorite, mi cielo~” Tilting her head up, Maravilla planted a kiss on the corner of her protector’s beak. The resulting chirp and visible lipstick mark brought the shorter woman great amusement, prompting her to leave a matching one on the other side before easily slipping out of her stunned companion’s grip. “Come along, darling, we have to get back before they send Jasper to look for us~”

Xaviera was too stunned to move for a moment, her eyes following the other woman’s movements as she walked away while her own feet remained firmly rooted to the ground. Bringing her fingertips up to touch the spot on her beak that she could swear still felt warm from the kiss (or possibly from her own incredibly flushed face), the vulture’s thoughts from earlier rang in her head once more: That woman was going to give her a heart attack one of these days.

But, she mentally amended, it might be worth it.

<--Previous Chapter Next Chapter-->

End Notes: Well, that’s the dangerous spy stuff out of the way and the last we’ll see of the SHUSH ladies for now. Next chapter is short before the final chapter, sorry ^.^”

#darkwing duck #dwd #steelbeak #Dominic Domino #steeldomino #xaviera #double agent maravilla #darkwing duck oc #dwd oc #not my oc #and #my OC #trigger warning #non-consensual drug use #green-eyed monsters

[hollywooduniversityalumnus]

8. no power over me

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The day she went with Elaine Peaches, Margot was so numb that she didn’t feel her knees scraping against the concrete when she tripped on the way to her house, or the hunger that rumbled through her body. Though she had been provided with jam-dotted cookies, water, and an apple, food after however many days alone only whetted her appetite. Her body ignored all pain signals (the scraped skin, the little rocks embedded in her palms when her hands broke the fall, her eyes’ sensitivity to light), focusing its energy on keeping her upright long enough to get to wherever she was being taken.

The police had asked a lot of questions and she didn’t know the answers. She didn’t know her mother’s real name, or where anything that could have her name on it would be, or where she might have gone. Margot didn’t even know how long she had been waiting inside.

“First time I saw her mother, she was on her way into the shed with some groceries,” Elaine Peaches had told the officers. “I thought it was peculiar for her to be keeping groceries in there, but Ned – Ned Kulpturn, the man who owns the big house - told me he’d rented the space out, fixed it up with amenities.”

“Ned Kulpturn.” One of the officers scribbled the name onto the paper balanced on his thigh. “Where might I find him?”

Elaine lifted one of her shoulders. “Beats me. Haven’t seen him since last Sunday. Sometimes he takes his boat and disappears for a week or two. Normal for Ned.”

As the adults kept talking, another officer – Bailey, according to her uniform - knelt by Margot’s side, offering her an apple she’d rinsed in the sink.

“You’re a brave girl,” Officer Bailey said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You were in there for a while.”

Margot only nodded, taking the apple in her hands. There was a bump on it that was darker than the rest of it, but it was otherwise perfect, like an apple she’d drawn. She dug her fingernail beneath the small sticker and peeled it off, pressing it to her bare knee while Officer Bailey looked on.

The officer speaking to Elaine came over and joined Officer Bailey by Margot’s side. He was much older than his co-worker, graying hair on his temples and wrinkles sagging his face. He did not smile.

“Margot,” the officer said quietly, “we’re going to need you to come with us now.”

Margot, whose mouth was already poised around the apple, pulled away from the fruit. “Why?”

Officer Bailey’s hollow smile reappeared. “You can’t stay alone here.”

“But I have already.”

Officer Bailey’s lips pressed together in a thin line, and she looked away, shoulders shaking.

“It’s not safe,” the other officer said sternly. “You could get sick or hurt or worse without supervision. You’re . . . how old are you again?”

Margot threw her two hands up in front of her, fingers on both hands flying up to convey the number.

“Seven. All right.” The officer rubbed his forehead. “Look, Margot, I know this must be scary, but we have to make sure you have somewhere to stay tonight and-”

“Wait.”

Elaine Peaches crossed the yard in a few strides and stood on Margot’s other side defensively.

“I live next door,” Elaine continued. “I have a spare room with a bed all set up. I can keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t be any trouble. If her mother comes back, or if something happens, I’ll call right away.”

And, though Elaine and the officers kept talking over each other for a while, in the end Margot was pushing herself off the ground again and again on the way to the front door that led directly into the neighbour lady’s kitchen.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Hold still.”

Margot tried not to move as one of the makeup artists rubbed more crumbled eyeshadow onto the skin where her costume was torn. Beside her, in the cramped (for lack of a better word) passageway, Oliver was getting similarly dirtied up, though his artists were circling him with a gun-like contraption that oozed fake blood with every squeeze of the trigger.

“It looks too neat. Remember, they’ve been through literal hell. He’s staring in the face of death. She’s beginning to accept that she may never escape.” Penn Cattrall’s strong voice echoed around the area. “I want them looking halfway to decayed.”

“Yes, Penn,” the artists said in unison, as if they had practiced it. Margot wouldn’t be surprised if they had; Penn Cattrall’s crew was mostly made of previous collaborators who’ve known him for longer than he’d been in the spotlight for his work.

Once her makeup artist, Milla, deemed her look suitably “halfway to decayed,” Margot sidled up to Penn to do their typical pre-take talk. It was something Penn implemented after seeing her and Oliver struggle through their first few scenes in the catacombs, and she was grateful for it.

“Miss Margot,” Penn Cattrall greeted, eyes glued to the monitor they’d squeezed into the part of the catacombs they were filming in. “Do you have any questions or concerns about the scene we’ll be tackling?”

Margot smiled. “No more than usual.”

Penn finally looked away from the monitor, nodding to himself at the sight of her bloodied skin peeking from beneath the torn fabric of her shirt and jeans. “You will do well.”

“I will.”

“Remember the signal if you need to stop.” Penn did the gesture, and Margot mirrored it. “Good.”

And then the director turned away and began barking orders, giving Margot the out she needed so she could escape back into the passageway and stick her head between her knees.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Do you think my mommy will come back?”

“Eat your cereal, Margot. It’ll get soggy.”

Margot made a face at the O-shaped bits in her bowl of milk. They didn’t taste like chocolate or sugar. And they were already soggy; the milk soaked in them as soon as Miss Peaches poured the cereal in.

(Yes, Miss Peaches put the milk in first. Margot would always think that was weird.)

“Come on, Margot, or you’ll be late for school.” Miss Peaches reached up to fix her bun, which had two unsharpened pencils sticking out of it in weird angles.

“Your education is important.”

“Why can’t I stay here with you today?” Margot argued. “My mommy let me stay home all the time.”

Miss Peaches frowned. “School is good. You will learn lots of things. Important things, like multiplication and division.”

“I hate math.”

“You dislike math. Hate is a strong word for you to be using.”

Sensing that Margot was not going to shovel any more Cheerios into her mouth, Miss Peaches finally relented and had the garburator noisily make a mush out of the soggy remains. Then, she swung the bright blue backpack she’d purchased for Margot over her shoulder and held out her hand. Margot’s closed around it, and they slipped through the front door and down the steps.

The school Margot had been lucky enough to get enrolled in late was not the best school – far from it, to be honest – but it promised an education, and that was what she needed. Miss Peaches had to sign a lot of papers to get her in, but she figured she had to suck it up; weeks had passed and neither Margot’s mother nor Ned had returned. She had allowed Margot to stay home for the first two weeks while they both got used to each other, and because Margot was visited often by Officer Bailey, who always had a new question that she couldn’t answer. But it was time for her to go to school and keep her on track, so off she went. She’d been attending it for a little more than a week and was still dragging her feet whenever they made the walk over as if it were the first day all over again.

“I’ll be here at two-thirty to pick you up,” Miss Peaches said, holding out Margot’s backpack while she readjusted the Velcro on her shoes.

Margot nodded.

And Elaine Peaches watched Margot walk through the doors, standing there until she couldn’t see the bright blue backpack through the window anymore, before heading home.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Action!”

Oliver lay on the ground, leg bent in an unfortunate angle that exposed bone and pulp. A pool of blood slowly grew beneath him. Beside him, on her knees, Margot held one of his hands between both of hers, fingers lightly tracing the rune he’d cut into his palm in an earlier scene.

“We’re almost out,” she said, and even she could hear the falseness in her words. “Just hold on.”

“No.” The urgency in Oliver’s voice was tinged with his obvious pain. “You can still . . . make it.”

Margot pressed a hand to his head wound, closing her eyes upon feeling the blood rushing between her fingers. “Don’t leave me here, Peter. You promised.”

Oliver choked. “I’m so s-sorry.”

Margot began to cry, cowering over his body as he slowly slipped away. She let the tears fall onto his clothes, and did what came naturally to her, like raking a bloody hand through her hair as she sobbed.

And then the flashlight she’d propped up in the middle of the passage died, plunging her into darkness.

Margot felt her heart seize upon being cloaked in mostly darkness. A little light came from where the camera had been set up, and she knew that Penn was using a night-vision lens that would capture her movements even in the dark.

But still, the tears that slid down her face were real.

She remembered ants on a peeling windowsill, searching for crumbs on that cold concrete floor.

An unnecessarily loud sob tore from her throat.

And then, as if a ghostly hand had pressed itself against the small of her back, she was surged by a memory, a small comfort, a glow in the darkness.

You are not alone.

There are people here.

You will never be alone like that again.

She ground the palm of her mostly clean other hand into her eyes, as if to suppress the tears she allowed to spill over anyway. Then, she scuttled over to her flashlight, shook it a few times, and flipped its switch. Enough light for her to see the only other hole in the passage that she could go through. Big enough for her to fit into, but not much bigger than that.

Setting down the light, she lifted one of her legs and notched her feet into the hole. Then, with her hands on the top, she pushed herself through.

Or, at least, she did a pretty good job of pretending.

“Cut.”

One of the crew members flicked on the lights. Another helped Margot out of the hole they’d built into a false wall they had to make, disassemble, bring into the catacombs, and reassemble. The makeup artists circled like vultures, descending upon Oliver as he opened his eyes and blinked at the bright light.

“I think we got it.” Penn checked the monitor again, before clapping his hands twice. “Nineteenth time’s the charm.”

“Up we go?” asked a makeup artist hopefully, already zipping up their touch-up bag.

Penn smiled. “The usual people stay behind. Everyone else, great work today. Rest up. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Every day’s a big day,” a boom operator named Jaime retorted.

At the director’s words, Margot strained to remember what was planned for the next day’s shoot. They’d conquered Peter’s death scene, most of the traps, and the first appearance of the Presence, so . . .

“Your call time will be early tomorrow, Miss Margot,” Penn reminded her as Oliver began ushering her out. “Come ready with energy to fight.”

Oh. Right.

That scene.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

After grabbing dinner with some of the crew, Margot returned to her hotel room to unwind after yet another exhausting day “in the ’combs,” as Milla called it. She indulged in a bath in the old-school clawfoot tub in her spacious bathroom. Steeped tea without doing the mindfulness bullshit. And finally, wrapped in a fluffy robe with the hotel insignia stitched into the lapel, she opened her laptop.

No new comments.

The production progress journal entry she’d inputted the night before had been seen, as per the checkmark next to the date. But no comments. No smart aleck responses or biting criticism about her “bordering-on-whiny progression notes” from the man eight hours and an ocean away.

She really missed them.

The responses.

Oh, who was she kidding?

She missed Hunt. She missed Thomas.

She missed whoever he was when he spoke to her, for sometimes she swore he was a hybrid of both identities, of both people she knew he was and could be. Sharp, critical, cold. Thoughtful, heartening, spirited (well, as spirited as Thomas Hunt could get).

He seemed not to care anymore, now that her and her limitation have learned to co-exist long enough for the cameras. After the phone call she’d made the morning of her first solo shoot in the catacombs, and the resulting entry about how she’d managed it, his replies went from encouraging to non-existent.

She felt hollow every time she opened the program and found a checkmark next to the last entry’s date, but no little pencil symbol indicating a reply.

It had been like that for too long.

Still, she started a new entry and wrote the expected things. How she was doing, how the production was going, how she dealt with the scenes she shot that day, and so on. And then, wholly unsatisfied, she submitted the entry and tucked herself into bed.

Tomorrow’s a big day, she reminded herself.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Her sobs rend the night, shaking Elaine from her dreams of muscular men on horses with billowing white shirts and flowing hair. She pulled herself out of bed and padded barefoot into the hallway, stopping just outside the spare room’s door. She held her breath and listened, then knocked upon hearing another wail.

“Margot?”

Elaine twisted the knob, and the door swung open with a creak loud enough to wake the dead.

Margot sat on the centre of the bed with her forehead balanced on her knees. The only source of light came from the moon illuminating the room through the spaces between the blinds, casting a bluish light about the sparsely furnished room Elaine had originally planned to convert into a home studio.

Elaine flicked on the light, and Margot’s head snapped up to look at her.

“Margot, what happened?” Elaine came over to her and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Are you sick?”

Margot’s voice was watery. “I miss my mommy.”

Elaine smiled sadly.

“Margot, sweetie.” Elaine sat beside the girl’s legs. “What can I do to help you feel better?”

Margot stared up at the ceiling light, blinking into the brightness like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The streaks of tears on her cheeks shone.

“Bottle the sun so my room never gets dark,” she replied.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Long before she’d enrolled in Hollywood University, Margot amused herself by watching movies and guessing how they’d filmed parts of them. Any and all live-action movies that had CGI character components, like a certain reboot of a beloved animated children’s show, brought her joy to dissect, watching scenes over and over again to see how the actors coped with talking and acting seriously to something that, at the time of their filming, was a silly prop stand-in, like a tennis ball mounted on a mini-tripod that would later be digitally replaced with a fan-favourite lightning-blasting rat-like creature.

She’d seen behind-the-scenes videos of how certain cinematic creatures were filmed, like the faun in Pan’s Labyrinth, with the green screen suit that hid Doug Jones’s lower legs that were not part of the end result look. After that, she usually imagined a person or a small team of people puppeteering the creatures, squinting to see if she could tell where the creature’s body ended, and the green screen suit began.

She didn’t think too much about how horror movies might use the same techniques. She was more focused on the fantastical elements.

But now, staring at the figure fully encased in a green screen suit, she realized she definitely should have looked into it before.

“Miss Margot.” Penn beckoned her to come over to where he and the green-suit stood before the monitors. “We are just placing the mats, then Erika will work you two through the blocking.”

The green-suit seemed to look at her. She couldn’t tell; there were no holes for the eyes or mouth, but the indentations indicated that there was indeed a nose and lips under there.

“Hi,” she said to it.

The green-suit did not respond.

“This is a pivotal moment in the film,” Penn continued. “The Presence is upon her. She either fights or dies, and she has come too far and lost too much.”

She nodded along with his words.

“We will most likely have to reshoot parts of this on the sound stage,” Penn admitted, “but we hope to capture most of the scene here. The more authentic, the better.”

“And the less work the editors have to deal with,” chortled Lewis, the boom operator for the day.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The stunts for the day weren’t hard to do, especially since they’d picked a surprisingly spacious area to film in. They took take after take, adjusting for different angles, and though she found herself embarrassingly out of breath by the time Penn called for their lunch break, she had to admit that she was relieved that the green-suit was there to guide her movements and ground her desperate struggle to survive in realism.

After all, it would be pretty hard to fight and tumble with thin air and make it look convincing.

She smiled upon reaching the surface with her group – “Buddy system!” Lewis crowed – soaking in the sunlight while pinching her nose shut at the smell of piss that seemed to waft around the area. As she made her way to her favourite panini stand, she watched as the green-suit slipped into a nearby trailer and closed the door behind them. There was no name on the door.

“Hungry, are we?” Milla slung an arm around Margot’s shoulder, catching up with her stride easily. “You’ve probably burned more calories today than I have this whole year.”

“Feels like it, too.” Margot rolled her shoulders back. “I have to admit, the green-suit person makes it pretty easy to be scared.”

They reached the stand and made their orders to the kind old man who ran it. As he layered smoked salmon, spinach, and creamy cheeses between slices of bread from the market a short walk away, they sat and chatted on a nearby bench.

“Who’s the green suit, anyway?” Margot asked. “I tried to ask for their name, but they weren’t talking. Method actor, I guess.”

Milla took a sip from her water bottle. “Oh, yeah. I have no idea, either.”

“Do you think that’s, like, on purpose, us not knowing?” Margot watched the old man press the paninis on a grill pan.

Milla rolled her eyes. “Probably. I can never tell what Penn’s got up his sleeve.”

“He’s very accommodating,” Margot said. “I mean, between you and me, I was giving him absolutely nothing to work with at the start. Though, in hindsight, I guess it was pretty obvious.”

“He’s not yet hardened by Hollywood,” Milla replied. “I kind of doubt he will ever be just like the other directors preening on red carpets and delegating their work to lesser knowns who won’t get credit for it.”

“And dating nineteen-year-old models when they’re in their late sixties,” Margot added.

“Yeah, what is up with that? Every time I see someone more than three times my age, I don’t think, ‘Wow, a viable sex partner.’ I think, ‘Cryptkeeper.’”

Their laughter was explosive, scaring away the nearby birds pecking at crumbs.

“Maybe it’s a sugar baby thing?” Milla guessed. “I mean, why else would a twenty-something bombshell play with some old dude’s saggy-”

“Shh, Milla!” Margot clapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t want the mental image, thanks.”

“Mademoiselles,” called the panini man.

“Saggy,” Milla whispered into Margot’s ear as they headed up to the stand.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

After they ate, Margot came up and put a few bills in the tip jar without looking the kindly old man in the eyes.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

She was choking, choking, and she was sure she was going to die.

Her fingers raked along the floor of the passage, trying to find something to grip onto, to give her leverage to buck off the Presence climbing over her. Her fingers closed around the wrist strap of her now-broken flashlight.

She struggled under the Presence’s hold. Grinding her teeth together, she mentally chanted that empowering line that always came to her now when filming in the dark before letting herself go limp. Tears spilled down her face. Her eyes began to close. She mouthed something to the air, an apology, an acceptance.

“Pete – Peter -”

Her grip loosened on the wrist strap.

The Presence slowly climbed off her, walking backwards to the wall from which it burst through.

She silently counted to ten.

Then her eyes sprang open, and she gasped for air, hands rubbing at her throat in confusion.

“Cut!”

Margot looked up at the green-suit, who silently offered their hand.

“Thanks,” she said.

They nodded at her before turning to look at the monitor.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“I think we’ve got it all for today.”

Penn was practically glowing, and everyone on set felt its warmth. It was a stark contrast to when production began, and the two leads kept getting panic attacks or violently ill. Now, the energy was infectious. And, since everyone had the next day off, there were whispers of finding a bar or club to loosen up at after the shoot.

Margot just wanted to go to her room and bury herself beneath her bed’s thousand-thread-count sheets. Maybe order Labyrinth, one of her favourite fantasy films, to watch on repeat until the next shoot. But a drink, especially after being tousled around by someone whose identity was still unknown to her, sounded good, too.

As the crew packed up, Penn shouted, “Don’t go too wild tonight and tomorrow! Your days off are for rest and recuperation. I do not want to hear of sprained ankles.”

“Yes, Penn,” Margot said in unison with the rest.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Two cocktails, one shot, and a hit off Lewis’s dab pen later, Margot felt like she was floating a foot above the ground.

Kamil, a member of Penn’s regular film crew, had found the nightclub with the private room and texted the address to every person in the production group chat. He had bought the first round, dedicating it to “their whip-cracking director and his wild-ass ideas,” then disappeared into the crowded dance floor with a few other crew members. Oliver had shown up and downed three shots before he and Milla took refuge in the corner to make out. And then Jaime had dragged Margot out for a dance, which turned into two, which turned into three, before Lewis and a few other guys from the crew she had barely interacted with usurped her for dances.

Her hands were on some tattooed, muscular forearms, and she didn’t quite know what she was doing with the rest of her body, but she was having fun. Her dancing partner was handsome, almost clichély so, and she sort of wanted to cry over how pretty his eyes were. In the strobe lighting, they flashed green and gold. The musky smell of his cologne clashed with a nearby dancer’s classy perfume, and the mix of those scents made her press her thighs together.

She impulsively ran her fingers through his dark hair. Ran a finger over his sharp jawline, his high cheekbones, the lone freckle just beside his nose. He leaned down, for he was so, so tall, and pressed his mouth to her neck.

“You got a boyfriend, Miss Margot?” teased the man she was dancing with.

He meant no harm. A simple question.

But it blew the wind out of her sails.

She began to touch the ground again, and everything around her was discordant. The flashing lights, the lit-up dance floor, the writhing bodies bouncing and grinding. A mouth against her ear, whispering something about a hotel and making her feel good.

She pushed him away.

The shock on his face morphed into worry. “Are you all right, Margot?”

“I-” She swallowed hard. “I’m tired.”

She was. She felt like her body had reserved all its tiredness until that moment and dropped it upon her like she was some cartoon villain standing under the conveniently placed anvil.

“I’ll walk you to your hotel.” At her look, he held his hands up. “Not to, you know. I just want to make sure you get there.”

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

True to his word, the man walked her to her hotel, distracting her from the darkness between lamp posts with small talk and pointless stories. He offered his jacket and his arm, both of which she took gratefully.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.

“Which was?”

He smirked. “Is there a boyfriend waiting for you at home?”

Margot wanted to match his smirk but was too tired to bullshit. “There’s no one waiting for me at home.”

His eyebrows rose. “I doubt that.”

“Don’t. It’s true.” She shrugged as they entered the hotel lobby. “Just how it is for me.”

“So, just to be clear,” the man said, “no boyfriend.”

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

He hesitated. “Anyone under the impression that they may be in a relationship with you, whether it’s exclusive or not?”

She burst out laughing, startling the clerk behind the counter.

“How specific,” she remarked dryly.

It was his turn to shrug. “Can’t be too careful these days.” He cocked his head to the side. “So . . . ?”

Margot thought of dark hair, dark eyes, suits.

You are not – and will not be – alone. You will never be alone like that again.

He had not replied to her. Had not spoken of the masquerade, of that night on the set, of the date auction, of the Fairy Kingdom Formal. She did not know how he felt about her or them, other than how it “cannot be.” He had shown his kinder side to her time and time again, but did that mean anything?

To her knowledge, her feelings were unrequited.

And there was a handsome man standing in front of her, kind and courteous and funny, to whom she felt attracted, who certainly would not give her the cold shoulder or tear her self-esteem down if she kissed him right now.

She did not doubt he’d be a man of his word, making her feel good.

Still, she reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she smiled.

“Thanks for walking me back,” she said.

He nodded. “Thanks for humouring me.”

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

It was only when the elevator was rocketing her up to her floor – alone – that she realized she didn’t catch his name.

And that it didn’t really matter.

Not then, anyway.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Production Progress Journal Entry 24:

Today was one of the hardest days. I had to fight the entity known as the Presence, which was physically portrayed by someone in a green screen suit who never actually identified themselves to me or the rest of the crew. I suspect Penn knows who it is, but he didn’t volunteer the information.

Anyway.

Four weeks into production. We’re right on schedule, which is apparently very rare for a film production. Within the next two weeks, we’ll be working on the sound stage.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I’m coping. It’s going okay. I think I’ve found a failsafe way for me, and it really doesn’t require a lot of work on my part.

If the great Thomas Hunt has ever deigned to watch it, he would know from which movie I had adopted my mantra, which I repeat to myself during harder parts of filming:

“You have no power over me.”

I’m learning a lot about myself and what I can handle. I won’t let what happened to me hold power over me anymore. At least, not enough to interfere with what I’m most passionate about. I want this film to be something I am proud of.

And so far, I am.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

After submitting her entry, Margot slipped into the bathroom to wash off the grimy feeling the nightclub left on her skin. The hotel provided adorable miniature bottles of body wash and hair products, and she used a sample of a hair mask she’d gotten with her last Sephora order. On a whim, she decided to hop into the tub, using a complimentary bath bomb that smelled of citrusy sweetness and had a core of dried rose petals and lavender buds that clung to her body. She had to hop back into the shower to rinse them off.

More than an hour later, she stepped out of the steamy bathroom to a notification on her laptop.

One new comment.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Thomas Hunt’s comments on Production Progress Journal Entry 24:

I am well aware of 1986’s Labyrinth, thank you very much.

Still, I’m pleased to hear that you are coping. You are working with your limitation. Perhaps it’s not much of one now.

Good luck with the rest of your production, Miss Schuyler. Professor Singh will be marking these entries from hereon out.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

#only fools fall for you #thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #hollywood u #hollywood university #fanfiction

[purplesurveys]

961

What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen? Unsettling films are my jam, man. To name a few, there’s Eraserhead, Room, Midsommar, Eyes Wide Shut, Misery, and most recently, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Eraserhead takes the cake though. That movie always makes me queasy...

What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole? I’m a firm believer in nothing good ever comes out of unethical practices. I’ll never forget reading about an experiment where a group of newborn babies were given basic needs like food and being bathed, but weren’t shown any affection whatsoever and it was meant to see if humans can survive with just the most basic physiological needs. By the end of the experiment period half of the babies were dead. The results were honestly a lot bleaker than how I’ve put it, but I don’t wanna be a downer lol. Suffice it to say that experiment haunted me for days after reading it.

When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t? It was around a week or so ago, I’m pretty sure.

Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base? My sister is into K-pop and I hear insights from her all the time, but her one constant is that BTS breeds the most annoying, toxic fans. I’d have to agree. Ariana Grande’s fandom was also annoying at one point, but I haven’t heard much from them making a mess these days.

What are you interested in that most people aren’t? Autobiographies.

If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you? Why would I deserve a PhD on something I’m clearly not qualified for...I’m not sure I’m following this question right, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard about it.

What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement? I’m happy with the features that are widespread now, but I wish companies adhere more to countries other than the common ones like US, UK, Australia, etc. I always see ads about phones being able to tell you how much movie tickets cost or track boarding passes, but those are all irrelevant here. It makes a lot of Apple’s basic apps useless on this side of the world haha.

What’s something people don’t worry about but really should? Long-term effects of poor habits like not getting enough sleep or drinking too many cups of coffee. I know because I’m guilty of this.

What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis? “I won’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow,” but I usually say it to myself, especially when I feel stressed.

Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents? Better, but idk if that’s just me being biased because my generation will be the next parents lol. I just think that a lot of Gen X parents still have a lot of dated prejudices and mindsets that my generation was able to learn better from. For example my mom doesn’t like using people’s preferred names, especially if they’ve transitioned -_____- and I know I’d never want to set such an example for my kids.

What’s the funniest joke you know by heart? I know I’ve come across hilarious ones but I always fail to come up with one when asked on the spot.

When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life? LOL RIGHT NOW

What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having? It’s more stupid than funny and I know I’ve already mentioned this before, but Covid Bryant as a first and second name still takes the cake for me. My sister went to school with a girl whose name is just her surname backwards, and for a time I was really weirded out by it. But in the times I’ve seen her she really owns her name and never looks bothered by it, so I quickly stopped caring.

Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money? For me it would have to be organizations for animal welfare.

What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week? Post-El Camino Jesse Pinkman. I wouldn’t want to live through his chaotic shit  from Breaking Bad, but his fate after El Camino is something I’m super envious of.

What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now? Flip phones, Blackberry phones, Roshes, Frappuccinos.

If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack? Phone, laptop, their chargers, important IDs, some of my favorite tops and jeans, underwear, essential toiletries, wallet, a family photo, a journal and pen, earphones, certain knickknacks to remember Gab and my dogs by. Minus the clothes, all of these are pretty tiny so I think these would all fit in the bag just fine.

What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen? I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of rating the most/worst this and that stuff in my life, either. I feel like I unnecessarily rack my brain too hard for them when I take surveys to have a chill time.

If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first? Probably something that’d keep my dogs from dying.

If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do? No thanks. I’d be the chillest ghost tbh, I’d like to just sneak up on people’s business and hang out but never interfere in them.

What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving? Climate change, global warming, alleviation of poverty. Corporations and the few people who actually have the power and money to change things only ever come up with short-term shit like donations and never look at the big picture. What problem are you currently grappling with? So many personal ones. But just like the recurring theme of my surveys so far, “I don’t want to get into it.”

What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role? As much as I love Kristen Stewart, I heard she was cast as Princess Diana for an upcoming film and I’m not really feeling that decision. They could’ve gone with a British actress for starters?????? The movie is still in production but it is pretty annoying to think about lmao.

What game have you spent the most hours playing? Probably GTA: San Andreas as a kid.

What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in? Luxury hotel beds are always so fluffy and comfortable.

What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard? Omg one time at a coffee shop Gabie and I sat beside this older couple that obviously was going through some heavy SHIT. There was a lot of animosity and tension between them and I caught the lady silently break into tears a few times. I never overheard anything but then again they sat in silence for hours until the lady finally walked out on him. Never knew what it was about but I’ve always guessed that the man did something crappy, like cheat, and was discovered. It was a really sad sight and a crazy situation to witness and I think I felt even more sorry because they were obviously in their 50s or 60s. I hope the woman is in a better place now as she looked rough as fuck that evening.

What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked? I wore a lot of hats when I was in my college org, and that was on top of balancing my acads as well.

What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it? That scene from Friends where Ross plays the keyboard for Chandler, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel.

What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation? It depends on what music they’re into and if I have actually have a recommendation in mind for them. I obviously can’t suggest Paramore to someone who mainly listens to metal.

If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose? I’m down for any monuments that are super ancient like Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza.

If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying? I’d go with frogs, but only because they get annoyingly loud in the evening.

What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been? Playing The Sims, Mario Kart, Rock Band, or games in the Burnout franchise.

What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? Japan was so fucking cold when I was there. Didn’t do my research and ended up being dressed poorly, and I was so cold I could barely talk to my parents or fully enjoy my time. Sagada was also nearly unbearable in the early morning.

Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate? Not from a book or movie, but BoJack Horseman. Diane can also be in the running as I always found her too whiny. I get that she had her personal shit to deal with, but I don’t think living with her would be good for my own sanity and mental health.

Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine? It annoys my chef dad to death that I don’t lol. No matter how great it looks, I’d bounce. I once ate expired Kit Kats that tasted like cardboard and that scared me off of expired food forever.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought? I once bought a stupid novelty soap that to this day I’ve never even opened. It’s in one of my drawers, and I plan to just throw it out at some point.

What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen? Not a fan of these but one that got to me is Dear Sister from SNL.

What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten? A few years ago there was a local breakfast place that offered red velvet pancakes for a limited time and I was all over that crap, so I went and ordered. The actual pancakes ended up not being any bigger than my palm, and I remember not being able to hide my disappointment once the server placed the dish on my table haha. I felt so scammed. I had to order something else to feel full, because those pancakes were stupidly small.

What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job/jobs? One of my superiors, when she was presenting a pitch to our director yesterday, kept asking questions and picking at the director’s brain so that she can get suggestions and answers straight from the director herself and so that she didn’t have to do any brainstorming anymore. I thought that was a pretty nifty and clever hack.

What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? Hiking a mountain!

What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them? Umbrella by Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.

What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone? Idk, anything can be the worst depending on the context. I’m not a fan of giving those, though.

What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched? Unsolved Mysteries’ Dupont de Ligonnès episode was a lot of fun to watch.

What was the last song you sang along to? I think it was Thinking of You by Katy Perry? but I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t sung along to anything in a while.

What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet? I don’t really download and use a lot of apps other than the basic ones, so I don’t care too much.

When was the last time you face palmed? Last night.

If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create? I’d give it away to the Martial Law museum currently being made near my university so that it can do more to show the atrocities of the Marcoses. And so that I can piss off my pro-Marcos relatives.

Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up? Uh hating myself, if that counts.

What really needs to be modernized? Public transportation systems in this country.

#survey #surveys

[not-my-givenchy]

Tragic Fate pt. 3 (Tony Stark x Reader)

Summary: Saying you and Tony Stark had a tumultuous relationship was the understatement of the century, but no one could discount the love you had shared and the good you provided to each other’s lives. 

A/N I started this story on my main blog many moons ago. So I’m moving it over to this side bloggy in hopes of finally finishing it. 

Word Count: 2,421

Warnings: Drinking…mentions of cheating

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

The shrill sound of your watch pulled you from the task in front of you. The day was finally done, and you leapt from the barn with excitement. This was the first night of the summer that you had plans with someone other than your parents and the cows, and lady time had been cruel and slow leading up to your release. It was nothing special, dinner and some drinks with an old high school friend you had grown apart from, but now that you wouldn’t be returning to school in the fall you figured you should start reconnecting. So you pushed down your self pity by remembering all the fun you and Bailey had in high school. Even more exciting was the fact you wouldn’t have to talk about milk for a change.

The screen door shook behind you as you ran through the hallway. You weren’t fast enough to sneak by your mother who came charging out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon.

“Boots!” Old man Jennings down the road could probably hear her shriek.

You stopped in your tracks and looked over at the muddy path you left. Before running up the stairs, you kicked them towards the door and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. Shouting your apologies as you ascended the creaking steps.

“I’ve raised enough pigs in my life, I don’t need another one!” She yelled at no one in particular. 

Your clothes laid in a damp sweaty heap by the door. The neighbors had been kind enough to offer you extra work for cash, but your sore limbs were not happy with the extra labor. Normally, a cold shower would help soothe the knots in your back, but after an afternoon of hauling hay and mending fences you would need something a bit stronger. Working every hour of the day was the only way you suppressed the sadness of dropping out. The only time you weren’t thinking of everything you were leaving behind was when your hands were raw and your knees threatened to give out from under you. 

Every decent article of clothing reminded you of Jennifer. When you finally pulled on a top, you could hear her voice clear as day asking if that was really what you wanted to wear. You were stuck there staring at your reflection for what seemed like hours, but the shrill ring of the phone downstairs snapped you back to reality

“Sweetie! You’ve got a phone call.” Your mothers voice carried into your room 

“Coming!” You shouted back practically throwing yourself down the stairs.

Your mom raised an eyebrow as she passed you the phone. Your voice came out in a rush, “Hello this is Y/N.” 

“Hello Miss. Y/L/N, this is Mrs. Labelle calling from the office of finances.” Her shrill voice hissed through the phone. 

“What is this concerning?” You groaned. 

“Well, I just wanted to inform you of a payment made to your account. Now I know you were in the process of withdrawing, but the remainder of your tuition for the year has been paid. We would hate to see you go right before graduation—,” you slammed the phone into the receiver. 

“That asshole!” Stomping out of the house, you ignored your mothers calls behind you. 

Behind you the phone was ringing madly, but as if on cue Bailey was pulling up the driveway. Urging her to drive, you practically threw yourself into the passenger seat. She took her time to look at you like a fool before rolling her eyes and obeying.

The pub had been crowded when you first arrived, families and couples scattered through the booths. However, Bailey’s cousins owned the tiny establishment, so you were seated in a favorable back corner booth. The t.v at the bar hummed in the background, as you and Bailey laughed at old memories. Your meals had long been replaced by drinks, and the families had retreated back to their homes. The bar was full of regulars, and every so often some high schoolers would stumble in for fries and act like they weren’t drunk off their parent’s liquor cabinet. It was a quiet night, and hours passed before you gained the courage to tell Bailey about your current dilemma.

Bailey tried to mask her laughter by taking a swig of her beer, but when you continued rambling in an attempt to validate yourself beer came shooting from her nose.  

“Now look, you’ve gone and made a fool of me and you!” Her giggles were replaced by tiny hiccups and her arm knocked over the empty bottles as she wiped up the spill with her shit.

“What are you talking about!” Everyone in the pub was now staring at the two of you, so you lowered your voice, “I’d look more like a fool if I took the money.” 

Bailey’s arms flailed in the air. “That bastard broke your heart, the least he can do is pay for your college. Hell, he’s probably got the money to buy this entire god damn state, your tuition is like pocket change to him!” Bailey huffed paying no mind to the attention her little scene was grabbing. “You’ve got the brains to get out of this god damn town, don’t waste them because your god damn ego.” 

“Whatever, you don’t get it. I don’t even like it there Bails.” You returned to your drink with a grumble. 

“Shut up.” Bailey’s eyes grew dark and her tone more serious. “You know what I’m going to be doing at the end of August?”

She dared you to speak, “the same god damn thing I do every year. I’ll be hauling hay and picking up shit! Literal shit! You don’t have to be hauling hay and picking up shit no more, so why the hell would you choose to.”

Hearing her voice break tore at your heart. When you were finally able to look her in the eyes you noticed they were glossed with tears. Your cheeks flushed red and your mouth opened and closed like a dumb fish. Everyone in the pub had gone quiet, and when your eyes frantically scanned the room they all avoided looking back

With a slam of her glass, Bailey shot to her feet. “Plus your mama would kill you if you didn’t go back. Anyway! Let’s get you home before 12 so she doesn’t have to kill you twice.” 

You chuckled at her retort. As soon as you stepped onto the street the humidity slapped you in the face. Bailey wrapped her arm around your waist and leaned her head on your shoulder. For the first time in ages you could breathe deeply. 

Only two cars had passed in the half hour you had been walking, and as the road turned to gravel you doubted you’d see any more. The two of you exited downtown, and your only reminder of life was the soft hum of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. With each step, your knees screamed, but your mind was finally calm. Throughout the walk you both commiserated over work and love; Bailey definitely had her share of relationship drama. Drunk, sore, and walking drunk down a dark deserted road complaining about life caused you both to go delirious. Soon enough, you were skipping hand and hand screaming songs from many summers past. For a brief moment, all of your stress and troubles washed away and you were just two friends in a happy world. 

However, moments like that never last long, and with a quiet hug you wished Bailey a good night. You waited to turn towards the road until you saw that she made it safely indoors. The two of you had shared many nights like this in the past, and it made you realize how different you were now then you had been over four years ago. When the gravel beneath your feet changed to dirt, you knew you were reaching home. The alcohol had long left your system, but you were still blissfully unaware of the real world surrounding you. Along the way you realized that you would be returning to school in the fall, but that made the walk even more bitter sweet. You wanted to hope that after graduation you’d have a secure job somewhere in a city, but the little devil in your mind reminded you nothing was certain.

The crickets went quiet at the sound of a car pulling behind you. Squinting in the light, you failed to recognize the car. Your heart pounded violently in your chest, it was too fancy to belong to anyone around here, but only people that lived on this road drove down it and at this hour no one who lived on this road dared to drive. Your mind begged your feet to move, but you stood glued in place gaping as the strange car stopped beside you. 

The window began to roll down, and your now sweaty hand gripped the flashlight tighter. Millions of worst case scenarios ran through your head, and you heard you mothers voice in the back of your head telling you to never walk alone at night. However, the reality was worse than you could have imagined.

“What the fuck!” You whisper yelled at the driver. 

The bags under Tony’s eyes were on full display under your bright flashlight. His hand reached up to shield them, “What the hell are you doing out at this hour?” 

Flicking off your flashlight, you let out a breathe you didn’t realize you had been holding in. “I could ask you the same thing!”

His eyebrows furrowed and he opened and closed his mouth searching for a response. 

“Heck, what the hell are you doing on my street?” Your voice was unnecessarily loud.

He sighed, “just get in the car, I can explain.”

You practically chortled, “explain! Has that every worked for you?” 

“Y/N. Get in the car.” 

You rolled your eyes before walking towards the passenger door. It slammed harder than you had intended, and Tony jumped at the sound. The leather seat was cool against your exposed legs, and the AC that hit your face was a welcome release from the humidity.

“You’re on the wrong side of the road.” You grumbled looking ahead. 

“No lines, no rules.” He retorted. 

You rolled your head towards him, “God. Are you sure you’re not a country boy at heart?” 

Tony laughed and looked over at you. “At least I don’t smell like one.”

You had barely started driving when nausea ripped through your stomach. It felt like some cruel joke. “Tony pull over.” Your voice cracked.

“If this is because I called you smelly—”

“I swear to god I’ll jump out.” You pleaded gripping the door handle. If it weren’t for the booze in your system Tony probably would have called your bluff, but he knew better.

Letting out a long sigh he put the car in park. He stared at your hand waiting for you to leave, but you were frozen in your seat. You too were looking at your hand trying to will it to work. Pinching your eyes shut you willed yourself to wake up. To leave whatever sick dream you were trapped in. However, when you opened your eyes your hand was still there clutching the handle. Your chest was rising and falling faster than you could think, and soon enough Tony’s hand was covering your own. Your eyes were glued to his as he enveloped your hand.

“Y/N.” Your name was but a whisper on his tongue, and in the moment you would’ve sworn your heartbeat was louder than him.

All you could look at were your fraying jeans. His thumb still rubbing yours and his eyes begging searching for your gaze. 

“Tony.” As soon as you said his name your resolve cracked. Hot tears poured down your cheeks, but you didn’t feel like crying. Desperately praying they would stop, you pulled your hand from his to wipe them away.

“I’m sorry.” He tried to pull your hand into his again, but you folded it onto your lap. 

“Stop.” Your voice cracked, this time his hand cupped your cheek. Closing your eyes, you leaned into it and allowed his thumb to wipe away the remnants of your tears. When you opened your eyes you saw his tired ones staring back. 

“Why are you here?” There was no fight left in your voice, you had given up a long time ago. 

“Well—I wanted to make sure you knew you could graduate.” He but his cheek nervously waiting to gauge your reaction. 

You were expressionless. “Yea, but why are you here.” You emphasized. 

“I—I don’t know.” He stammered now unable to meet your eyes. 

You pulled your face from his hand and leaned against the headrest. “Well it’s almost midnight and we’re on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, so I don’t know isn’t really an answer.” 

Tony didn’t answer. Ashamed, he turned towards the road again.

“I’ve given you so much.” Your voice cracked. “And you—you shit on all of it.”

Your vision blurred as the tears began to fall again. It was the kind of cry you feel in your soul. When emotionally you have no more to give, but you can’t stop yourself from giving even more. Tony couldn’t bring himself to look at you, even after every fight he had never seen you like this. For so long you had lied to yourself and suppressed how all of the cheating and lying had made you feel. When he ignored you for weeks you had shrugged it off. Sitting there sobbing in his car long after the damage was done and the relationship had ended, you realized that you had only let yourself feel his love. For so long you had ignored the hurt, and it came crashing down on you like a tsunami wave. And through the tears, you managed to lift your head and observe him. He had his eyes squeezed shut and his chest rose and fell. Your hand threatened to reach out and stroke his hair. It had grown longer and more disheveled than you remembered. Feeling your eyes on him, he quickly rubbed his eyes trying to hide the tears in their corners. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked, but his eyes didn’t leave your own. 

All you could do was nod, there was nothing left to be said. 

Next Part

#Tony stark #Tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #young!Tony #young!Tony Stark #marvel #mcu #avengers #imagine #Tony stark imagine #marvel imagine #Tony stark series

[madamquacklemore]

Chapter 6(part 2)-The devil at bay

a/n originally this chapter was too long so I've to divide it into two parts as I wanted to give our lovers the scene they deserved. So warnings! mature content s03 e05 spoilers etc.. enjoy and please let me now what you thin! Again this chapter is entirely in Tarian's POV. P.S I don't think I've ever really written..a..mature adult intimate moment (best P.C to explain it?) So er.. Bare with me. Like this story its a skill and WIP For those not reading to read such a scene it will be sectioned off ;)

Your pulse it races with mine and I swear that there's no other girl Your body shakes, it's like tonight we can take the world Your pulse it races with mine and I swear we can take the world Is this the life, the one you imagined Is this the life, the one from your dreams Is this the life, the one you imagined Is this the life, the one from your dreams 

She wants Revenge-Take the world

Tarian and Finan both exhausted, summoned their strength together to carry Osferth to the tents they had set up for the wounded. Tarian was at the top cleaning his face and humming a peaceful tune, Finan checked the wound and staunched it as best he could whilst Sihtric fetched Uhtred. Was this part of the curse or just life as Finan would say? She looked at the tearful Irishman even now he could still banter with his ailing friend. Uhtred returned concern evident on his face and gave the boy what he so desperately wanted-recognition for bravery. Uhtred left the tent with Sihtric,  placing a kiss on his forehead Tarian did the same leaving to find some herbs for the pain only after Finan was joined by the short bald priest they had met at Aylesburgh. The stocky dark haired Dane-Dagfinn-was now prisoner and spat at her feet as she walked by calling her a traitor in his native tongue. She stopped and turned round unsheathing her dagger she held it to his throat, Uhtred called out to her from behind."Tarian! The prisoners are not to be killed." Turning away from her lord she glared at the Dane settling for clubbing him with the hilt of her dagger. Osferth will be proud she thought as she continued to make her way to the trees searching for anything that could help him. "Will it work lord?" "I believe so. But the others must believe it too." "Lie to our own men?" "If this is to succeed we must." Tarian hid behind the next tree and watched Sihtric walk  away as she rounded the other side she walked straight into Uhtred. "You are good Celt but I am better." he said simply. "You will not tell anyone what you have heard here. Not even Finan is that understood?" "Lord I-" "You swore an oath to me Tarian, besides his ignorance may very well save his life-all of our lives. Go now. We will march to take the fortress itself shortly." Herbs in hand she followed his command.

As the sun began to set they had found the fortress itself almost completely empty. Word of Haesten's defeat and how he fled made its way back and Alfred and his army had no problem taking the fortress itself. The slaves there were given the option to aid them or to leave. Those who chose to stay were watched (unnecessarily) and prepared food for the new owners of Beamfleot. Her belly full,  Tarian bid goodnight to the men she had fought alongside and went to check in on Osferth. He was still awake listening to an amusing tale of Finan's with Sihtric and the priest. Wishing them good night,  she went to the small room that been given to her courtesy of Edward,  "you remind me so much of Aethelflead, " he told her. Well the young prince's favour certainly had it's benefits as in the middle of the small but comfortable room was a fireplace and two bowls of hot clean water and lavender. Stripping off her clothes she began to wash her self,  noting that stinging pain on her left side was nothing more than a scratch which she had forgotten all about. Once her body and hair was satisfactory she dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for her and went back down to where Osferth was stopping on the way for ale. 

"Dear god in heaven I know it's been a while. But I promise ya-no I beg of ya-not for my life but for that of one of your own preachers. Protect him make him better an' I will do whatever you command of me..." "May I join you?" she called out to him, once his prayers had finished. The second largest hall in the fortress had been designated for the wounded,  there was little privacy and even less space. Finan kissed the cross around he wore around his neck and looked up at her. Sihtric-who was slumped on a stool the other side of Osferth's bed-was fast asleep. "I brought you both some ale but I don't think it will do him any good" she gestured to the sleeping Dane who had begun to snore. "You're too good." he muttered into his ale cup. "You should really get some sleep." she told him. "He is in the best place he could possibly be right now." "Yeh..yeh I know your righ' Uhtred's gone and got summoned by the king I should-" Finan started to move. "And he will come to you should he need you, " she finished for him grabbing his arm. Finan swayed on his feet poor man was exhausted. "Come walk with me some air will do you good." Tarian offered her hand and the Irishman took it linking their arms together, she led him out of the make-do recovery ward. No one paid them much notice as they walked around the compound together they rounded  the stables and found a quiet place in the shadows, Tarian shivered as her hair was still wet from earlier.

Finan pulled her into her into his arms wrapping what he could of his cloak around her she gazed up at him and he down at her. They were they were alive and they were alone. He kissed her softly and she kissed him back. Despite the cold she could stay there in his strong arms for eternity. There they stood foreheads pressed together he sighed. Tarian recalled her earlier desires, they were alive now but would they be the next day? It was now or never. "I like to try to live a life without regrets." "As do I" he chuckled. "But this morning, going into battle I had but one." "What was that Tarian?" he pulled away slightly so he could look in her the eye. Was it her imagination or were those hypnotic eyes twinkling with the same desire she felt? "That I did not lie with you." Finan was a silent for a moment then swallowed hard. "A-and now?" "That desire has not changed." Licking his lips he said "I feel that desire also." Tarian looked down and was surprised at her need to summon her courage. It would not be the first time she had lain with a man why was she so nervous now? "You will wash first though" "Ah righ' well I'll have to-" "There is a wash bowl in my quarters." "You wish to wash me my lady?" Finan teased. "You will wash before you touch me that is for certain." she gave him a bemused look and led him to her room. Unlocking the door she instructed Finan to make himself comfortable while she went to fetch more hot water and lemongrass as he seemed to be partial to it. When she came back she had found him in his breeches having fed the fire. "I half expected to find you asleep." she teased. "Tarian no man would sleep after what you had said to me." he grinned. Sitting on the chair she provided for him she gave him a bowl for the lower half of his body and she would work on the top part. She started from behind rinsing the dried blood and grime from his neck and his back feeling him tense up as she ran the cloth over the wounds from his time on the slave ship. "Do they still hurt?" she whispered. "Only in my mind." he croaked. Tarian kissed the scars on his back and returned to his front. His feet were now in the second bowl and Tarian had to be careful not to trip as she moved to clean his face his and throat. She could feel his gaze as her hands ran through the hair on his broad chest, across his shoulders and down his arms and over his toned scared stomach. In one swift motion Finan took his feet out of the bowl and pushed it aside drawing her to him where he buried his face against her. There she held him as what felt like tears soak through her tunic. He made no sound as he cried silently against her and she said no words as none were needed. They had lost loved ones and faught many battles but they were alive. And they were together. After he had composed himself he pulled himself away to look up at her. "Are you sure you want this? Because I don't want-" Tarian kissed him mid-sentence. "My dear Finan I have wanted this since that day outside the gates of Saltwich." Finan smiled as they both remember that day where he had thought he had bested her but she had turned the proverbial tables on him. 

a/n mature content The half naked Irishman now much cleaner stood up to face her with a dangerous look in his eyes. Even if she were married even if she wanted another Tarian did not think she could resist him for he was the most handsome man she had laid eyes on and he was practically naked with a look that charm even the most pious of women. He pulled her hard against him kissing her with such passion she thought she the heavens themselves had opened up to take hold of her very body and soul. There tongues intertwined and Finan wasted no time untying first her cloak then briefly breaking the kiss to help her remove her tunic and undergarments. She watched him as he took a step back to marvel at her nakedness. Licking his lips as he too removed what was left of his clothing and pulled her towards the small bed. As Finan lay above her, he took a moment to look into her eyes almost as if he was searching for a change of mind-he found none. His kisses were slower this time starting at her forehead then her nose , her cheek , her jaw until they found her lips. He wanted to take his time for which Tarian was grateful for as she too wanted this night to last forever. Her hands roamed his body as he kisses went lower and like herself he was fond of biting. She traced her nails down his broad back over his muscular arms intertwining her legs with his. Tarian could feel him hard between her legs with one skilled hand he entered her with his fingers as her nails dug deeper into his back . "Do you like that?" he breathed in her ear. The sound she made in response was not audible but it must have been the answer he desired as he began to build up the pace. She could wait no longer-the tension too much -she was going to explode if he didn't give her what she needed right there right then. "Finan!" she ordered. "As my love commands" he chuckled in her ear. Pulling up slightly he guided himself inside her watching her reaction entering slowly to give her time to adjust to his sizeable width. With each slow , deep thrust Tarian rose up to meet him wrapping a leg around him she pulled him closer. "Faster." Finan was a man for following orders and faster he went. Tarian was like a woman possessed as she matched his ferocity biting down hard on his shoulder as she found her release Finan followed soon after nearly collapsing on top of her. That night they both slept soundly in each other's arms , their demons at bay they found their own little paradise amidst the the death and bloodshed around them.

@laketaj24 @geekandbooknerd @itzmegaaaaaaan @sprinklesthrows17 @ariellostatci @tesstrash @medievalfangirl @xthezodiacage

#the last kingdom #fanfiction #finan the agile #FinanxOC #wessex #Mercia #beamfleot #sihtric #osferth #uhtred

[republicscum]

When Jumping into Battle Doesn’t Work

AN: 2,666 words

Male Sith Warrior x OC, Male Sith Warrior & Vette

I didn’t do this with anything particular in mind. I just wanted to practice my action/fight scenes and see how well my story paced prose does compared against my more Fancy(TM) pretentious prose. I also wanted to scribble things down for Grimm because he’s one of my favorite villains. I’m not sure how time is working for him yet in how my interpretation of events happens, so I just set this as though his apprenticeship happened at the same time it does in game and yadda yadda. It shouldn’t be too much different from my personal canon events except for some year transplanting.

Points to note: violence, blood, Grimm (Ansilm) treats Vette like property, and there is some mild language.

Past the Imperial barricade, the tombs were not restful. The rustles of other acolytes seeking their plunder carried through the cavernous halls from all points around, but there was a presence louder and yet all the more still to Ansilm Wx. In the murk there was an omnipotence breathing the stagnant air and biding the eons. Unheedful of things older than him, he pressed deeper into the temple.

The ground sloped into a steep fall beneath his feet. Eventually the shriek of wind blasting around sharp desert outcrops faded into a dull moan and the silence of the grave pressed in. The going for a while was painful and slow, since the sizable Pureblood had to fall back onto his haunches to avoid careening carelessly into a K’lorslug or another acolyte in the gloom. He found himself gritting his teeth. The physical part of his body told him that his muscles were expending laughably little exertion, but frustrated desires whelled so deeply in his chest that it tensed the thin band of rationality keeping him in place.

Ansilm bared his lips back so they stuck against his teeth. Strange power rested here and it would be strange power that would be the undoing of many an acolyte already pushed to fervor as they jockeyed to become Sith. But fighting ones inhibitions was discordant with the natural energy of the Force, and Ansilm did not suspend the tugging in his chest lightly.

Then the ground finally evened. He couldn’t hear the wind anymore. The tomb of Tulak Hord glowed a soft yellow from ancient lights that hid more than they exposed. But the retinal glow of the Pureblood’s eyes provided him an advantage over his human rivals. He wandered for a while encountering nothing until nothing weighed very heavily on his mind. The rooms and halls were built so similarly to the untrained eye that nothing but K’lorslug slime differentiated features. The chambers’ various meanings and purposes once common knowledge to Ansilm’s ancestors was now lost to monotony on him. Occasionally the shouts of someone being killed in darkness rang out, which was an unnatural comfort over the repetitive shuffling and mutterings.

Around the corner, a scream bellowed. Unlike the echoes that might’ve occurred a few paces over or an antechamber away, this was sharp and desperate on the ears. Not residual but real. The taste of electricity laid over the back of Ansilm’s tongue in a thin coating just a second before purple threw the caverns into stark relief. He charged forward to the strobing violet flicker of the Force energy.

The woman who’d screamed lay in the thick of a pack. From their practical minded blades and clothes they were nothing more than tomb dogs scavenging after artifacts. From the mouth of another hallway intersecting the antechamber, Ansilm could see another acolyte drawn out by the yells swiftly unsheathing his warblade. She was blissfully unware. It was an unnecessarily vulnerable position she’d put herself in to antagonize a few treasure hunters, but it was a situation he could leave to resolve itself and pick off the winner. Yet yawning tombs were lonely places for victors of petty fights.

Ansilm sprang onto the other acolyte as he brought his hands down to strike the lightening user. There was a yelp of pain as Ansilm’s warblade broke his grip and wrists, sending the combatant and his sword skittering across the floor. He lashed out with the Force in desperation, pushing Ansilm with a crack into the wall. His back hit hard knocking the wind from his lungs, but his feet and head remained steady. Lightening flared dangerously close to his wine-dark skin and danced off of it in violent crackles as he bared his teeth and advanced forward. Ansilm could barely see from the disorientation and the strobe from slowly frying bodies, but he could feel. He thrust his hand down where he could feel the other curled on the ground. He could feel the breath knocked from his cracked rib cage. One handedly, he drove downward and felt a gushing spurt of what could’ve either the living Force or blood whell into the sucking chest wound. Ansilm brought his other hand to the back of the pommel and forced the blade forward until it sparked against stone. The life drained like an ooze from his body and into the sealed tomb with his last rattling breath. Lost forever.

It fell dark again. The stench of cooked meat filled like blood in his nostrils. Ansilm wrenched his blade from the dead acolyte’s sternum with the protesting jolts of electricity propulsing violently away from sinew and bone. Behind him, the woman, a Red Sith, was poised in a textbook perfect combative stance. One hand raised to Ansilm and his heaving sweaty bulk fearlessly. Almost fearlessly. There was a line of tension down her spine that curved away from him in a guard.

“Well met, sister,” he managed between controlled but massive gasps of stale tasting air and sheathed his blade. His tongue felt thick with electrical charge and exhaustion.

The tense line of her body relaxed into a mistrusting question mark.

“I’ve no quarrel with you. Those Imps got what they deserved.” Her voice, in contrast with his even timbre was high, sharp. It danced on points, like her lightening.

Ansilm wiped away locks of black hair from his face and back over the top of his scalp. “And what was that?” he asked. Dry amusement tinged his voice.

“A dishonorable death. May they shit themselves in the place they were trying to befoul.” She stepped out of her stance to reveal a long siding of wall. The glyphs carved into the heavy rock had been removed into a long gaping trench, like a wound in the temple. From it energy flowed raw and damaged. There were many such gaps like it in other rooms.

“And what of it? Sith don’t concern themselves with petty thieves.”

“Sith? Funny word for one to use who isn’t concerned with his own heritage being raped and plundered.”

Ansilm’s eyes narrowed. She was quickly beginning to pluck at his nerves. “Sith is a legacy; it’s more than any one race. Unfortunate as the rape and plunder may be.”

She scoffed. “If that’s what you think, then you know nothing.”

Ansilm felt the band of irritation begging him to cave in to slaking his fill of power. It expanded with the adrenaline fueled rise in temper at this infuriating ungrateful woman-- It was that swell that ultimately brought him back to a steadying breath. His lungs were still shaky after the disturbed ozone and roasted flesh, but the rawness called attention to his surrounds rather than the provoked pool of emotions within. “Then you can tell me about it on our way into the tomb.”

The woman blinked. “I—I suppose a truce is a good idea. Then you feel it too? The need to give into your worst senses?”

“Yes, it’s tempting. And I think it’s the failure of many an acolyte. A smart Sith is a thinking Sith – not a beast. But at the same time, only Jedi are stupid enough to batter their true selves down. I believe an alliance is the best solution. You’re a good fighter and passionate; if nothing else, we might at least be able to have an interesting conversation.”

The woman’s sandy orange eyes sparkled with interest in the dark. She approached him and held out her hand. “You’re very flattering when you’re talking sense. My name is Jikksi. If you betray me, I'll kill you.”

"Noted." His four clawed fingers practically engulfed all of her small but corrosively smoothed hand. “But pleased to meet you Jikksi as long as you give me an honorable death. I’m Ansilm. Ansilm gestured her forward. “Well, we can’t waste the day talking.” She threaded her arm through his instead.

“What? Can’t a lady even get an escort from the big strapping man who saved her?” Jikksi fluttered her eyelashes coyly. Her tendrils swayed under smirking lips. A snide edge to the words told Ansilm she was feigning for her own amusement, but he returned the smile anyway.

“Of course the lady can.”

Since then, his trials seemed long behind him. The jungle before him. 

“Figures you’d get out at the Imperial Spaceport then have to walk uphill five miles wading through man eating beasts to actually get to the city.”

Ansilm spared a sidelong glance at the Twi’lek slave and considered the shock controls in his belt. She stiffened every time his hand strayed too close, so giving her another jolt for speaking her mind seemed like overkill. All Ansilm Wx expected was obedience and competence. It was a paltry price for he would’ve demanded the same from any other companion of status.

For now she seemed content to stretch the durable woven fibers of her new armored gear. He’d had her change into the new jacket and pants during their last few uneventful hours on the Black Talon and had been relieved to see that it fit. After the simple hide tunic and pants he’d refitted her in on Korriban, she seemed reinvigorated by the proper wardrobe. More importantly, it gave her a suitable edge in combat, while reinforcing the idea that her sense of identity wellspringed from him.

“Can you keep up?”

“Uhh-h, yeah, guy. Tomb raider who got you that nifty glow stick strapped to your belt, here?”

“And I thank you for that.”

“I—you’re welcome. I think. Can we go before you start being nice to me?”

Ansilm shouldered his sparse haversack of belongings then started forward into the looming trees.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be nice to you? You’re walking freely in the middle of dense wilderness, are you not? If I valued your servitude over your well-being I could easily have you on a drag line in front of me.”

Vette, a few paces behind his shoulder in case of threats, winced. “I’m sure you mean that nicely, but it still sounds creepy. I guess, it’s because this is a kind of everywhere to hide but nowhere to run to situation.”

Ansilm saw her glance up to the canopy cover. As they stepped over an invisible line, it swallowed them. Something made a trilling cry from deep within.

“That in no way negates what I said. I think you’re in a different arrangement for the time being and need to stop overthinking things. Your situation is plain and you’d do better taking it a day at a time for your own sanity. Paranoia will make even the strongest person go crazy.”

She fell contemplatively silent behind him and a smile curved Ansilm’s lips. Remarkably simple how punishment and kindness worked in conjunction to reform injustice to complacency. But one thing was missing in his quiet assurances: the promise of freedom. It was important that Vette not have a goal to work towards. Just a long haul day by day of getting used to her new life. When she reached that next milestone Ansilm would reward her with something nice. Something she liked. He just needed time to parse her out.

Aside from some sparse chatter where Vette asked Ansilm where he was from (Kaas City) and some comments on the weather, they continued the hike in silence. Coming from Korriban to a planet where the atmosphere was the same consistency as soup and well above sea level, the few kilometers felt like parsecs. Every step felt like an overexertion and he was beginning to feel the edge of a chill. Vette was doing better with her stamina for exploring, but even experience couldn’t negate the harsh barriers of rapid climate change. He could feel them both beginning to flag, when they encountered their first Gundark.

They had seen movement in the trees occasionally but nothing desperate enough to interfere with the man-made pathway. The exception was foraging just off the path with its head bowed and grunting into the soil.

It had been a while since Ansilm had seen a Gundark, and the reality of how gruesomely large they were was a daunting eleven-foot reality made of mealy smelling taut stretched hide.

Vette groaned. Fatigue snagging even the edges of that. “We sh—” she choked off then glanced hesitantly between Ansilm and his belt.

“We press on,” Ansilm said as if nothing was amiss.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know you’re built, but that thing is you and then on stims on top of the stims its already on.”

“Come on,” Ansilm said again as though she hadn’t spoken and reached for his blade.

As he turned it on, the creature’s head snapped up. He felt Vette lurch back bloodlessly over his shoulder and knew she’d be useless. She had already succumbed to the terrifying elements and exhaustion. Ansilm would, as usual, have to rely on himself.

He coiled his legs into tethers of energy that he didn’t have and made an impossible leap with his arms poised in an overhead cut to bring down across the creature’s body. Hopefully the thick hide would tear like canvas and spill intestines on the ground. In slow motion, blurred by the speed of his surroundings, Ansilm watched one of the creatures tree trunklike arms come up effortlessly to bat him away. Committed now to his plan, Ansilm followed through with the cut and closed his eyes. It was like hitting a wall on a speeder bike. There was a beastial scream of pain, his bones folding into something solid, and …

Vette looked like she was vibrating; it made him feel dizzy.

...

The next thing he saw was cloth tarping and a Sith woman. She was beautiful. With a fine face, and elegant features piqued by a naturally mischievous demeanor and drips of gold piercings against her angular tendrilled ears and pouty lips.

“Jikksi? What’re you doing here?” The words came out too slow even though he was speaking normally. Almost like his tongue was too fast but his mouth too thick, but he felt good. Fresh. Cooler and softer somehow. “Korriban was a long time ago.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

Ansilm frowned. “Why would I need to? I’m fine,” he insisted a little hotly and leveraged his weight onto his arms to stand.

Quicker than he could comprehend, she grabbed his arms. The practical coarseweave was rough against his bare skin. Her fingernails dug into his slippery skin at the same time her light floral scent dug into his nose. She was strong. Ansilm – who had seen her control convulsive torrents of electricity while keeping perfect saber form - knew this, but it was another thing to feel it gird down through his muscles.

“Where’s my shirt?”

“What year is it Ansilm?”

He took a deep breath knowing there was no way to convince her he wasn’t okay when she was so assured that he needed medical attention.

“10 ATC.”

Her hands relaxed as he became less of a flight risk.

“Where are you?”

“A few miles from Kaas City.”

“Who was the master you were hoping to apprentice under as an acolyte?”

“Darth Baras, and he will be very unhappy if I’m late.”

Jikksi smiled and let go of the pinning hold on his biceps. He felt cold again after she left but not in a pleasant way. “So you were successful then.”

“Of course.” Ansilm blinked. “Vette.” He tried to bolt upright again, but a current of stiff pain that hadn’t been present before stopped him with a gasping grunt.             “You took a harsh knocking. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a few fractured ribs,” Jikksi replied and compelled him back down with both hands on his shoulders.  “I understand you have a lot to worry about, but if you try and get up again, I will restrain you. Anything you need, I can do.”

“You don’t understand. My slave—”

“The Twi’lek woman?”

“Yes, is she—?”

“After you were knocked out, she killed the Gundark and went looking for help. She found me, and we brought you here. She’s being attended to for her own injuries.”

Ansilm blinked back to Vette’s out of focus face and the thunderous sky framed behind her. He recalled retroactively the sharp scent of sap and ancient soil. She must have dragged him on his back.

“Here is where?” 

He tried to turn his head, but found that the stiff rod of pain prevented that too. Glows of a fire danced along the dark tenting material and conversation ebbed and flowed in the distance. It wasn’t enough to make anything out.

A mysterious smile played around Jikki’s lips. “I’m not at liberty to say anything except that you’ll have to be marched out with a blindfold on. But… She’s a very loyal slave. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Ansilm slipped his fingers around Jikksi’s wrist – where her palm still rested flat and even on his shoulder, like an afterthought. “I do.”

#SWtOR #Star Wars: The Old Republic #Sith Warrior #The Grimm Legacy #Ignol Grimm #Jikksi Grimm #Vette #you can definitely tell where i got tired #and went to hell with description #but i think it works well #it carries the story #and this isnt supposed to be polished anyway #fan-fiction

[shipmistress9]

Not one of Them - Epilogue 2: Dress

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3: Chapter 4

Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8

Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Epilogue 1

A/N: So, here it is, the second epilogue. First of all, I want to say that there won't be a detailed description of what happened to Heather and Eret when they entered the club. I'm sorry, but I'm the wrong writer for a scene like that. I don't even like it when someone lightly humiliates himself in some romantic comedy let alone enjoy watching someone getting humiliated on purpose. And I definitely don't want to enter the state of mind that would be necessary (for me) to write a scene like that! So, sorry again, but no detailed roasting here. There is, however, a small recap somewhere in between.

The focus here is more on Hiccup and Astrid again (Because, honestly, that's why I'm here ;) ). And this epilogue is for @thepixiedustfactory, you know why ;) Thanks again.

Another thanks goes to @athingofvikings for helping me edit this story. So far, those changes are only in the fanfiction.net-version of this story but I’m going to apply them here as well.

Alright, let the show begin! I'd recommend listening to the song 'Dress' by Taylor Swift while reading this, in case that's your style of music ;)

. o O o .

"What is that?"

The baffled expression on Hiccup's face was priceless. Astrid wanted to burst out laughing and was only barely able to contain herself.

"It's a dress, Hiccup," she explained, lips twitching. "Surely you have seen dresses before. Girls occasionally wear them."

It took Hiccup a couple of seconds before he caught himself again. His slightly dazed gaze landed back on her face and only occasionally flickered downwards. "I know what a dress is," he said carefully and swallowed when his eyes dropped to the intriguing neckline, her bare shoulder and the fading yellowish bruise on her collarbone. "I just never have seen you wearing one. I didn't even know you own one."

While Hiccup spoke Astrid walked into the living room. She was just about to pick up her purse from where she'd placed it earlier on the kitchen counter when his last words caught her off-guard.

"Well, I bought it... some while ago," she explained, making some indistinct gestures with her hands. The day before yesterday, to be precise but she wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't understand why. Maybe it was a little foolish, anyway. But then, it was an in-joke for herself only and she liked the idea. That was what counted, right?

"And you're wearing it now? I thought we wanted to go to the club? You know, the first time as a couple?"

Astrid caught the slight flush spreading across Hiccup's face. It might have been adorable had his words not made her cheeks flare up, too.

A couple. That word still sounded surreal and made her feel the weirdest things. Like her heart beating rapidly. Or the warmth spreading through her entire body right now. Or the light dizziness in her head. She and Hiccup were a couple now, truly and officially. In fact, they were for almost three weeks already but Astrid still wasn't used to that term. It sounded too good to be true.

"Am I not allowed to wear a dress at the club? I think I saw other girls doing so occasionally," she tried to sound calm and in control but felt like she was failing miserably. Because Hiccup was right, she'd never worn a dress at the club before; had barely worn any dresses ever! Wearing one now and Hiccup's critical expression made her nervous.

"Don't you always say it's too risky to drive in flimsy clothes like that?" he pointed out, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Isn't that why you always wear your riding leathers and leave the dresses to other girls?"

Did he not like it?

"Well," she began hesitantly. "I was hoping you would give me a ride for once. I've heard you're used to driving carefully while having a girl in a flimsy dress sitting behind you."

Hiccup's face softened slightly and his lips twitched but those were the only reactions she got to her words. If the last three weeks had proven one thing then it was that their easy friendship hadn't vanished just because they had sex now. On the contrary, it had grown and had become even closer and more comfortable. It had become more!

And yet, it still felt kind of the same. Their playful bantering hadn't changed much and referring to the past and the life they'd lived wasn't painful or awkward in any way. It was who they'd been, what they knew about each other and didn't change where their relationship was going.

"Okay," Hiccup nodded slightly and gave her appearance another once-over. Astrid hoped he liked what he saw; the tightly fitting deep blue dress with only one strap over her right shoulder – and clearly no bra beneath – and fitting kitten heel pumps. Well, she liked it at least and it wasn't like she planned to wear this more often. Just for this one occasion...

"Alright, let's go then. Just... don't distract me any further while we're on the road."

Astrid couldn't help but grin.

. o O o .

Just like on most other nights, Crazy T let his gaze wander over the crowd below him. He often thought it was funny how the atmosphere was almost tangible to him. As if he himself could actually feel the mood the people were in.

Granted, on most days it was more or less the same; a wavering mixture of laughter, yelling and the light but ever-present aura of erotic interactions. This was a nightclub after all and not a monastery.

Two weeks ago, the atmosphere had been different though. He remembered how the mood had switched within minutes only. It had almost been scary and he was just glad that the sudden outrage that had spread through the room hadn't been directed at him.

C's plan had gone like a clockwork. It had been eerie how the low music he'd played had gotten interrupted by a loud chorus of different beeping noises, how it had been completely silent for a second and how then everyone had scrambled out their phones. Within a few minutes only, everybody had read the text C had sent. The first disbelieving whispers had soon changed into disgust and angry conversations. For a while, he'd even been worried about what these people would do when Heather and Eret finally showed up. Not that he generally was easily worried, but in that moment, he wouldn't have ruled out plain murder as an option.

It hadn't come to that, however, and reliving the memories served as great entertainment. He remembered how Heather had walked into the room, head held high and a smug smirk on her too red lips and Eret following her with an equal expression on his face. He must have felt incredibly glorious for being able to satisfy Haddock's ex.

T remembered the initial reaction of the crowd, how people had pointed at the pair of offenders to each other, anger and disgust plain on their faces. He remembered how their smug smirks had slowly vanished, remembered the tears of frustration and humiliation in Heather's eyes. And he remembered the delicious looks of stunned disbelief on their faces as Scott and Throg finally escorted them out after Eret had punched someone. It had been for their own safety but that didn't seem to matter.

At the last moment, Heather had looked up at them; her gaze finally spotting C. T remembered very well the hateful glare the black-haired girl had thrown up at them and also how utterly unperturbed C had been. She'd even raised her cocktail glass in a mock salute. Never before had T been this glad to be able to call C a friend. T knew that C had recorded it all but hadn't publicised it. Yet. He guessed she wanted to use it as a bargaining chip against Heather; C would publicise it in case she ever pulled anything like that again!

Indeed. On that day, the atmosphere here in the club had been quite unlike the usual.

And today it wasn't as usual, either, although in an altogether different way. Anticipation was buzzing high and filling the room with a practically tangible electric charge and the reason for that was as simple as it was silly. Because Hiccup Haddock was back.

For months, he'd only been here in the company of that bitch. And then, he hadn't been here at all anymore. But today, he was back and, just as usual, only in the company of his friend. T shook his head and chuckled to himself. Everyone had read the text C had sent. How was it possible that still nobody saw it?

But maybe they just didn't want to see it. So many eyes were on him as he now stepped down the stairs from the DJ platform to the dance floor below. They were all waiting, just as usual, waiting for the starting signal that would open his hunt. They all still remembered, of course. How he would jokingly hit on A and then go on the prowl for real after she turned him down. Well, they would be in for a surprise if T suspected correctly. H had been up here just now to thank him for his help but also to make a special request. The request to play a certain song, but only after A was back from the ladies restroom.

Oh yes, they will be in for a surprise indeed! T thought with a grin. Playing matchmaker was fun.

. o O o .

It was a strange feeling to be here again. To Astrid, this club had been like a second home for a while, but now, everything felt weird and different. For the umpteenth time, she inspected her reflection in the broad mirror. No strand of her hair was astray and the little make-up she wore was as it should be. She had no reason to hide in here any longer. After unnecessarily fixing her dress once more, she finally left the bathroom.

On her way through the corridors, she was met by the same weird looks as before. Cautious smiles, sympathetic nods, and even the occasional encouraging word. It wasn't like she hadn't expected those but it was still disconcerting. To think Hiccup's idea to pay Heather and Eret back might have made such an impact that now random people tried to comfort her. Well, Astrid wouldn't complain. She didn't mind getting reminded of them, not anymore.

When she entered the big dance hall, her gaze wandered reflexively over the crowd, looking for her favourite mane of tousled auburn hair. It took her a moment but then she spotted Hiccup at the other end of the room. He leaned against a wall, arms crossed in front of him and studiously ignoring the people – mostly girls – around him. He spotted her right away and, after throwing a look up at the DJ's platform, pushed himself off the wall.

Graceful like a mountain lion, he made his way through the unsuspecting crowd. Every now and then the stroboscopic light caught in his impossibly green eyes, flashing in her direction and it made her heart beat faster. A small and detached part of her noticed how other people around her watched him as well, but she didn't care. Because right now, he was making a beeline for her!

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

Astrid couldn't help the wide grin spreading across her face as that quote popped up in her mind. Oh, how she loved reputation. It was incredible how much that album applied to her... to their lives. But it wasn't 'Call It What You Want' she'd been thinking about non-stop for three weeks now...

Without her help, her legs slowly began to move toward him as well. This was the moment she'd been looking forward to. It was childish in a way but she felt like this was important, necessary even. No, she was not one of them, not a meaningless and interchangeable one-night-stand. Hiccup had made that clear. And yet they both had felt like they needed to play this game for one last time. The end game.

Suddenly, Crazy T's voice sounded through the hall and momentarily tore her out of her daydreams.

"And hello again! It's me, the almighty voice from above. I don't think I've played this one ever before for you but I suggest you take a break and relax for a moment. Because now, on special request: ‘Dress’ by lovely Taylor Swift"

Astrid stopped dead in her steps, disbelievingly staring up at where Crazy T seemed to wink at her. Had he just said ‘Dress’? That couldn't –

The first chords waved through the hall and Astrid recognized it immediately. Her favourite song. The exact one that was playing through her mind ever since the first time Hiccup had kissed her three weeks ago. The one she hadn't been able to get out of her head which was kind of why she stood here right now. How had he...?

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

Her head whipped around to look back at Hiccup when the first lines of lyrics echoed from the hidden speakers. He was only a step or two away from her now, a lopsided grin on his face as he closed the distance between them.

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

Yes, her hands were shaking as he stopped there not an inch away from her. How had he known? How had Hiccup known what this song meant to her? He'd never paid any attention to her music, how –

Say my name and everything just stops

"Astrid?"

I don't want you like a best friend

She could only stare at him, a fierce blush spreading across her face at the next line.

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

He knew! That green-eyed devil knew why she'd decided on this outfit today and hadn't said a word. Groaning, she buried her face against his chest as his lean arms wound around her waist.

"How?" she asked in a small voice. How had he known?

"I know you," came his simple answer, whispered against her skin as he placed a light kiss on her forehead.

Astrid gasped out a laugh. He was right, after all. Yes, he knew her, just like she knew him. It was why –

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

Hiccup lifted one hand to place it under her chin, to lift her face and to lean his forehead against hers. Astrid's hands were still shaking as she fisted them into his shirt to never ever let him go again. He knew her so well, knew her inside and outside. And he loved her. Just like she loved him. After the last three weeks that was no news, but it was as if the truth of those words finally and completely clicked into place in that moment.

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

Astrid's mind registered the noises of surprise around them, but she didn't pay attention to those. They didn't matter. Instead, she retreated to look at him again, seeking a confirmation she didn't really need.

Hiccup returned her gaze with a warm gleam in his eyes and when the song playing in the background went on, his lips moved to silently speak along.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this-

Astrid felt dizzy. So he really and truly knew this song, knew what it meant to her. Her lips began to move as well, their intense gazes still locked on one another.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

She could feel the warmth of Hiccup's hands radiating through the thin fabric. There was a hint of humour in his eyes but he became serious, almost solemn even as the song went on.

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

She wasn't one of them. She wasn't just another notch on his bedpost. He wanted her to claim him as hers. And she would. She did. She already had. He was hers and she was his.

Forever.

Flashback when you met me

Your buzz cut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Even in his worst times as notorious playboy with another girl in his bed almost every night, she'd seen him for who he really was. A wonderful and funny person that got hurt and broken a long while ago and who'd needed time and friendship for his heart to mend.

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

Even in her worst lies when she'd deceived herself about what she really wanted, he hadn't given up on her. He had fought to make her happy and happy she now was.

If possible, Hiccup's gaze became even more intense. He didn't silently move his mouth along the next lines anymore but instead whispered them softly, his breath brushing over her skin.

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

The chorus played once more but Astrid barely paid any attention to it anymore. She lost herself in Hiccup's eyes as everything around them seemed to fade. There was only the two of them, gazing at each other in awe and wonder. Nothing seemed to exist anymore except the two of them, caught in an invisible bubble and the moment seemed to stretch on endlessly.

There is an indentation

In the shape of you

You made your mark on me

A golden tattoo

The last lines of 'Dress' echoed toward them and Astrid could hardly believe that less than four minutes had passed since Crazy T's announcement.

"I get it now." Hiccup whispered. He'd raised a hand to lightly caress the yellowish bruise he'd left on her collarbone, his mark, the golden tattoo.

Astrid wanted to reply, to inquire after what he meant but she couldn't bring her lips or her mind to work properly. Damn, his touching her on that sensitive spot wasn't playing fair. But, luckily, he continued on his own a moment later.

"I get why people write poetry or make music about this," he breathed. "It's to at least try to express what they are feeling," he gulped. "Astrid, I... I love you. More than words can say. I can only try. I..." he trailed off, lost for words.

But Astrid didn't mind. She knew what he meant. Those three words were not enough. No words would ever be enough! So instead of trying to phrase her feelings, she turned to another language, one she knew could express their feelings even better.

She stretched and kissed him.

There had been a time when he would have backed off instantly, would have turned and left the girl standing for daring to kiss him. But those times were over and she wasn't one of them anyway. So instead of breaking the contact, Hiccup wound his arms around her once again and pulled her close into his embrace.

Astrid's mind went blank when she felt his tongue pushing into her mouth, reverently and demanding at the same time. She clung to his shirt to pull him deeper into the kiss but it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough!

. o O o .

Cami sat at a table in the back of the room, a half-filled cocktail glass in her hand. From her place, she had a fairly good view at the dance floor and what was happening there. Neither Haddock nor Astrid seemed to notice anything of their surroundings anymore and she couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face.

Even her rare nightly visits at Haddock's flat had been enough to notice the hidden feelings between those two, let alone the hundreds of times she'd met them here at the club. It was weirdly satisfying to know that they weren't hiding anything anymore. Haddock had never been like her. Cami had chosen this life of no commitment and bonds and was happy with it but Haddock had been different. He'd always been searching for something even if he hadn't realised that. It made Cami weirdly happy to know that he'd found it.

And who knew, maybe one day she would find the right one, too.

Tuffnut's loud cheering sounded through the sudden silence in the club at their kiss and Cami couldn't keep herself from laughing out loud. The man had been rooting for these two to get together for so long, it was hilarious. Like some sort of live-action soap opera. But Cami could empathise how Tuff felt so she joined in, shouted out a short exclamation and clapped her hands—

And burst out laughing a moment later after all, when a good percentage of the crowd followed her example and applauded, which led to the happy couple parting from their kiss and looking around in bewilderment.

"Aw, they are so cute!" exclaimed the beefy man sitting next to her and she threw him an amused look.

"Not hiding anything, are you?" she asked teasingly.

"Naw, why would I?" Dagur replied, grinning widely. "But I don't suppose now would be a good moment to approach them, right?"

Cami glanced back at the dance floor and smirked. Haddock and his girlfriend were tightly entangled in each other's bodies, and, judging by the intensity of their dancing, they wouldn't stay here for much longer.

"No," she agreed belatedly. "You'd better wait and get them on their way out. Otherwise, you might interrupt something," she added suggestively.

"Right. I wouldn't want to interrupt their... highlight of the night." Dagur replied, snickering.

Cami grinned. She liked Dagur. Too bad... But there was a reason why he usually didn't spend his nights at this club after all...

"Oh, don't worry," she added dryly. "Knowing Haddock, it wouldn't be the last one tonight." Then she bit her lip at Dagur's almost comically sad expression as he watched the couple.

. o O o .

Astrid almost regretted to not wear her leathers after all. Dammit, Hiccup was driving her insane!

When the sudden applause after their kiss had died down, they'd started to dance for real and it was every bit as maddening as she'd imagined. Hiccup never took his hands off her, not once and the flimsy fabric of her dress let her feel everything!

He was constantly touching her. On her hips, when he stood behind her and she could feel his leather-clad erection pressing against her ass. Or on her lower back, like now, as he stood in front of her. He held her tightly pressed against him, his thigh firmly wedged between hers. Every movement, every swaying in time with the music made him rub and press against her clit. Her knees felt weak already and Astrid just hoped there wouldn't be damp spots on her dress when they parted. Her briefs were definitely pretty soaked already.

"Hiccup!" she gasped as he pressed against her more firmly and she felt an intense spark flaring up in her lower belly.

"Yes?" His voice sounded lewd and heavy. Surely, this dancing didn't leave him unaffected, either.

"You... you gotta stop or... nng!" Astrid wasn't able to continue speaking as his hand glided up her side and over her waist to caress her breast lightly.

"Or what?"

Astrid caught the mischievous undertone in his voice and groaned. Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing. As if to prove her right, Hiccup leaned closer until his lips brushed against her skin as he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, the things you make me want to do to you..."

Astrid felt a hot wave of desire rushing through her at his words. Oh, the things she wanted him to do to her...

But was having an orgasm here in the nightclub really one of them?

"Hiccup, please..." she breathed weakly, eye fluttering shut as his hands kept caressing her body.

"Please what?" he growled against her neck.

Astrid whimpered embarrassingly as that sound vibrated through her. Her hands around his neck tightened for stabilisation and it took her a couple of seconds before she could form any coherent words. "Please, stop. Please, just..."

Swallowing hard, Hiccup retreated with a heavy sigh. He gave her a heated look before he brushed his lips against hers and whispered, "Let's go home."

Astrid nodded, all too eager to continue where they'd stopped just now as soon as possible. She let Hiccup lead her off the dance floor and to the cloakroom to pick up their helmets— and flinched when she saw who waited for them next to Hiccup's Night Fury outside.

She felt Hiccup's grip on her hand tightening but aside from that, he seemed relatively calm.

"Dagur," Hiccup greeted the other man.

Astrid noticed how he made half a step to the side to let her hide behind him if she wanted. But she didn't. She wouldn't be afraid or get influenced by anything that was related to Heather, that she had promised herself. So she made a step to the side as well, facing Heather's brother straight on. It wasn't like he was too blame anyway. Hiccup had told her that Dagur had helped to pay Heather and Eret back. And she had like him, before... But it was hard for her nonetheless to separate him from her time at his and Eret's flat and all the lies.

"Haddock," Dagur nodded in greeting. "And hey, Astrid! Nice to see you again."

But all Astrid could do was nod mutely in return. She knew Dagur was a decent guy but she couldn't help it. Seeing him brought up all kinds of unwanted memories.

Hiccup glanced at her and seemed to notice her uneasiness. He squeezed her hand lightly before turning back to Dagur. "What can we do for you?"

Dagur scratched his neck uncomfortably. "Well, I... I wanted to apologise. For what my sister did to you."

"You already did your part in helping Cami with her plan," Hiccup replied calmly. "Thanks for that again."

Dagur nodded but went on nonetheless. "I know. I still wanted to apologise in person. She came to this town because I brought her here, after all. She'd gotten into trouble so many times already and I thought having her here would make it easier to keep an eye on her. Looks like I was wrong there." The redhead sighed heavily.

"Anyway, I also came to tell you that she left the city by now. I arranged for her to live with an old family friend and be assured, she won't be able to make any trouble there. It's a small village on a fairly secluded island and Alvin is going to watch her every step until she learned how to behave."

Astrid was dead set on not letting Heather influence her life any longer. But learning that she actually wasn't living here anymore, that they wouldn't run into one another accidentally—Astrid couldn't deny her relief at this news.

Hiccup nodded still somewhat tense. "And Eret?" he asked. "What about him?"

Astrid could see how the muscles in Hiccup's neck tightened at that name. It was strange. Heather had been the one in charge of all this trickery but Hiccup seemed to be far more angry at Eret than at her.

Dagur shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I kicked him out as soon as I learned what he and my little sister had done. Or, more precisely, after C's payback. I never liked how easily he exchanged the girls he had sex with. But I stopped interfering after I learned that they all knew about each other. When my sister showed interest in him... well... I just thought that they wouldn't hurt each other at least. But after what he did to you...," his apologetic gaze landed on Astrid.

"He lived with my sister for a few days but from what I've heard they didn't get along well. I don't know what he did afterwards or where he went. All I know is that he resigned his job so I guess he left the city as well."

Hiccup nodded again, more relaxed this time and Astrid couldn't help but feel the same. The prospect of never seeing one of them ever again was a relief.

"Thanks for telling us this," Hiccup said calmly and made attempts to bid his farewell.

"You're welcome!" Dagur made no move to step aside. "And... ah... you two are a thing now?" The redhead glanced at Hiccup's and Astrid's intertwined hands and she couldn't help the small grin that tugged at her lips.

"I'm afraid so," Hiccup replied with a good-humoured tone in his voice. "Sorry, man, but she's mine!"

Dagur winked at Astrid before he turned back to Hiccup and gave him a lopsided grin. "I'd say the problem is rather, that you are hers!" he commented dryly. Then he turned and walked away down the street, lifting one hand to wave over his shoulder at them.

Hiccup gazed after him in confusion. "And... what was that?" he asked, baffled.

Astrid could hold back the wide grin any longer. "I'd say he just tried to hit on you," she said in a light tone and began to laugh in earnest when she saw his surprised expression.

"He's gay?"

"As gay as one can be!" Astrid confirmed. "See it as a compliment. You're hot!" She winked at her boyfriend but regretted her words a second later already.

Hiccup reached for her waist and pulled her against him, effectively trapping her between his motorcycle and his body. "Oh, am I?" he growled against her neck.

Astrid's mind went blank in an instant as he continued where they'd stopped inside the club a few minutes earlier. Her breathing got harder and her whole body began to tremble as he nibbled at the side of her throat, his leg pressed between her thighs again. He moved slowly but purposefully, rubbing against her to let her feel just how much she affected him as well. Lightheaded, Astrid reached behind her and searched for any hold on his bike while her other hand flew up to bury itself in his hair. Hiccup had her up high again in seconds only and she feared she wouldn't be able to stop him again if he was intent to get her off.

She wasn't even sure whether she wanted him to stop.

A low whine escaped her as Hiccup retreated, dark eyes burning into hers and cruelly leaving her wanting.

"Let's get home," he gasped hoarsely, a wicked grin on his face. "And I dare you to try not to come on my bike!"

. o O o .

Surprise, surprise, I had to split this one again... I don't know how these stories grow so fast! I hope this was okay for a start; the second part to this is going to be more or less 100% smut...

Epilogue 3

#Not one of them #hiccstrid #hiccstrid smut #hiccstrid fanfiction #modern hiccstrid #httyd fanfiction #httyd #shipmistress9

[rrrawrf-writes]

continued from this

would like feedback on if the fight scene is comprehensive or just cluttered and annoying

“They broke the wards.”

“They what?”

“Broke the wards,” K’lohei hissed at Sheisha. He rubbed his chest, and frowned when he felt something wet. Ink stained his shirt - that wasn’t supposed to happen. Inkspells simply disappeared when they were used up - he must have done something wrong when he put the spell together. Or maybe it was because someone else ruined the spell - he’d have to add in some kind of automatic dismissal under outside pressure, maybe. Or something could have been wrong with the pattern? There had been parts of it that K’lohei hadn’t been happy with, but since the warding spell had worked fine the half-dozen times he’d tested it, he had decided to live with it. He rubbed his inkstained fingers as he thought what had gone wrong, and how narrowly he’d missed being hit with magical backlash -

“Keo!” Sheisha hissed his name, but it echoed weirdly in the cathedral, as if she had shouted, startling him out of his distraction. “Quit standing around!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, glancing at the doors. They were a massive, heavy pair of carved wooden slabs, but despite the decreased activity around the cathedral in recent decades, they had opened easily for Sheisha and K’lohei, and he supposed they’d do the same for these people. K’lohei rubbed a thumb along a circular tattoo on his arm, one of several similar, simpler patterns that gleamed a bright, pale blue on his brown skin. He mentally flicked the spell up against the doors, and a bright blue, semitransparent barrier appeared, holding the doors closed. K’lohei took a moment to anchor the spell to the stone floor and walls, before turning to see Sheisha still prying precious stones out of a false god’s altar.

“Sheisha,” he groaned, and she shot him a dirty glare.

“This one’s stuck,” she complained. There was a thud on the other side of the doors, held shut by K’lohei’s spell. Hissing between his teeth, he stepped back and stared very hard at the front quarter of the cathedral, memorizing the scene, and trying to remember what the altar had looked like with all of its stones, and then mentally subtracting Sheisha from the background.

He only had one illusion spell; he’d gotten rid of the others to make room for his shields. Incantations were not required at all for inkmagic, but K’lohei muttered them under his breath anyway as he activated a spell on his shoulder. He couldn’t afford to mess this one up, and the chanting helped him focus anyway. Light trailed his fingers as he gestured through the air, just as unnecessarily as he chanted.

By the time his shield against the doors shattered from the impact of another mage’s spell, the altar end of the cathedral was hidden behind an illusion that made it look just as it had before, hiding Sheisha from view as she hurried to finish up her job. He didn’t to tell her to keep quiet; he just hoped that he could make enough noise himself to prevent the newcomers from hearing her work.

He turned as the blue shield dissipated into nothing, with a crackling noise like the tail end of a firework. A corresponding pain slashed through his arm, but he just gritted his teeth through it. At least that spell wasn’t leaking ink all over his new orange sleeveless shirt.

The doors slammed open a second later, the far sides looking a little blackened and burned as three people strode through. The first had green fire flickering around his hands, and he looked furious. K’lohei didn’t know much about religions outside of Kamea in general, and even less about fake Lyanni religions, but judging by the fairly generic white and red robes the fire-fisted man wore, K’lohei was willing to bet he was some kind of priest.

The other two people, a man and a woman that were nearly indistinguishable from each other under some kind of black security uniform, carried more conventional weapons - guns, and he was willing to bet that the batons hanging from their belts were electric.

K’lohei promptly put up his hands.

The priest barked something at him, presumably in whatever language the now-tiny country of Linyan chose as their national tongue. K’lohei didn’t need to fake his incomprehension, and he took a couple steps backwards as the three people bore down on him.

“Who are you?” demanded the Lyanni woman, in surprisingly fluent, albeit heavily accented, Kamean. K’lohei blinked at her in surprise, and then gave them all an easy grin, and bobbed his head to the lady.

“Just a tourist,” he said, and stopped moving backwards. The cathedral was vast enough that there was plenty of room between Sheisha and the three interlopers; he was midway between them all, and hoped Sheisha had some kind of escape plan in mind. “What, uh, what’s with all the guns?”

“You’re trespassing,” the woman snapped, and at K’lohei’s question, she dropped a hand onto the gun in question. He kept the anxious smile on his face.

“No, the - the sign said it was open for visitors until six -”

“It’s seven-thirty,” the woman said flatly. K’lohei pretended he didn’t know that and angled his wrist to glance at his watch.

“Oh, auwe, is it really?” he wondered. “Time difference. I forgot to set my watch, ha -”

The priest interrupted with an angry comment, and the woman translated for him, “You magicked the doors.”

K’lohei looked blank. “I - what? No, I wouldn’t do that. This is a church, isn’t it?”

There was a short pause as the woman and the priest murmured back and forth. She sounded uncertain, but then the male guard, hanging behind the other two, interjected a derisive comment. The lady sighed.

“We know who you are,” she told K’lohei. “We were told two Kamean thieves would try to rob the cathedral.”

K’lohei was not a good enough actor to talk off the accusation. “Aw, crap,” he said, dropping his hands. “They sold us out.”

He slipped one hand under the edge of his shirt. The priest, who had never doused the green flames engulfing his hands, let out a shout and flung a globe of fire at K’lohei.

It hit a brilliant blue shield, one that arced from the floor to just over K’lohei’s head, and was wide enough to reach the pews on either side of the aisle. The altar was centered; he hoped it would be enough to keep Sheisha from getting caught in any of the crossfire. 

As the priest wound up for another throw, and the two guards drew their guns, K’lohei scratched his fingers across the extensive inkspell tattooed on his stomach. Unlike the others, this didn’t burn, but fizzed instead. It was a rather comfortable feeling as his ‘aumakua slipped into being.

In between the time the second fireball hit his shield, and the first bullet slammed into it a second later, his ‘aumakua had gone from the size of a small cat to a very, very large dog.

It walked through his shield as if the barrier didn’t exist, despite looking a little battered from fire and bullets. The ‘aumakua, in the form of a skyherder and the same aquamarine color of K’lohei’s shield, reared back up on its hind legs and bared its teeth in a silent snarl. Four wings flared out from its back, and a long, thick tail whipped against the shield before it barreled forward.

It was a long, lithe creature, something like an otter or a weasel, but with long, long ears. Skyherders were incredibly rare, and generally pacifists; however, the one K’lohei had summoned had absolutely no compunctions about lunging for the man with the gun.

He shouted what K’lohei assumed were swear words, slamming the ‘aumakua with bullets. They stuck in the semiopaque creature like its was made of ballistics jelly, and in a second, the man went down underneath the ‘aumakua’s weight. The woman, who had been more reluctant that her companions to engage, yelled and went to help her fellow guard.

The priest was forming a new spell.

K’lohei clenched his jaw and pushed forward, the shield moving with each step. He took three before a sharp, green light lanced from the priest and smashed into his shield spell. It shattered.

Shields had always been K’lohei’s specialty. He had one for car crashes, for weather, for fistfights and shootouts and remotely protecting royals (and thieves). They were generally a single-step affair: you made a shield and it held until it was broken or dismissed.

This��one was a little more complex.

It was faceted, rather than the usual smooth shell most mages used, and when the priest’s spell slammed into it, the impact broke the entire thing into small, diamond-shaped shards. K’lohei hadn’t gotten a chance to try this one out under stress; he almost lost his grip on it, and was forced to dismiss the illusion spell, and then his ‘aumakua. The pieces of the shield that had been hit by the priest’s green light dissipated into nothing, but that still left K’lohei with tens of shards that glistened in the air.

It was K’lohei’s turn to go on the offensive.

He mentally collected a group of the shards and, with a wave of his hand, threw them at the priest. The robed man had to drop whatever spell he was preparing next and throw himself into the pews. A few shards tore through his clothes; K’lohei thought he saw a little bit of blood before the pieces of his former shield smashed into nothing against the stone floor and wooden pews.

A bullet zipped past his ear, shattering a couple shards along the way. K’lohei swore and ducked instinctively; his lapse of concentration resulted in a few more of the shield pieces disappearing into thin air. The woman stood over her fellow guard, and she shot at him again as K’lohei retreated. He collected a few more shards in front of them; they barely deflected the bullet off to the side. He grabbed the rest and sped them at the woman, just as someone behind him shouted, “Boost!”

He dropped to one knee, hearing rapid footsteps behind him. Sheisha hopped up onto his back a moment later, using him for a springboard to launch herself into the air.

He got shot a split second later.

K’lohei spilled backwards with a yelp; he heard the woman screech and two people hit the floor. Another bullet ricocheted off the floor near his hand as he pushed himself back up, blood pouring from his arm. He hissed between his teeth, tears running down his cheeks. Sheisha was going toe-to-toe with the male guard; the woman was stretched out on the floor with a handful of thin, long needles prickled from her arm. Sheisha usually coated those with a sedative.

Bright pink ribbons wrapped around the guard’s arms and Sheisha sidestepped around him, yanking the man off-balance. K’lohei tucked his injured arm against his chest and used a pew to drag himself to his feet - there was still the priest to worry about.

#iwrite #kk #sheisha #ythea #mAgIc~~~~ #this got too long and i ran out of mojo so here have yet another unfinished scene #*throws confetti in the air*

[kusunogatari-a]

[ Red ] [ @rxvensden ] [ Sebastian Michaelis, Finnian, Mey-Rin, Baldroy, Tanaka, Ciel Phantomhive, Suigin Ryū ] [ Blood mention ] [ Verse: His Angel, Fallen ]

“Now...with that, I believe our preparations are complete.”

Giving the table one last glance with eyes of ruby, Sebastian then turns upon a heel and looks to those behind him. As per usual, Tanaka seems not to notice, while Finnian, Mey-Rin and Baldroy all stiffen as the hellishly-skilled butler gives them his attention. A quick once-over shows them to be more or less in order. At least, as orderly as such incompetent humans can manage.

Flickering a bit further to one side, he gives their newest member a subtle glance.

White waves are pulled back to leave her front bared, tumbling down to the dip of her back. Clothes match Mey-Rin's save for a few subtle differences. Rather than blue, her gown is grey, with a longer skirt that just sweeps the floor. Hands await instruction, folded at her front as she returns the look with a guarded gaze of silver.

They each linger a moment too long before Sebastian picks up where he left off.

“As you all are aware, the party our young lord is to host this evening includes a variety of potential investors for the Funtom corporation. It is therefore key that each receives the absolute best of Phantomhive hospitality. Mistakes will not be tolerated.”

The ever-so-slight pitch to the butler's tone begets yet another flinch from the humans. Tanaka only chuckles, Ryū silent and giving only a nod.

“...now! To your stations. Our guests will begin arriving shortly. Finnian, you are to take coats at the door. Mey-Rin, you will be assuring each guest's identity and invitations. Baldroy, you will be doling out refreshments alongside Ryū – you the food, and she the wine. Tanaka...you know what to do. I will be at the young lord's side to attend to his whims.”

Ever so slightly, the angel's lips quirk as she catches the hint of exasperation in the demon's voice.

With a clap of the butler’s hands, the rest scatter to take their places, but not before Sebastian steps in the angel's path. Leaning forward with mischievous eyes and a touch of a smirk, he offers, “I realize this is your first function within the young lord's service. Should you require any help, you need only ask.”

“I can handle this much,” is her clipped reply, staring straight ahead and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Do take care you don't botch it. You may be useful in some regards given your talents beyond the mortal, but the young master will not be able to stand an affront to his image by a sub-par servant. And we would so hate to lose you.”

“I will bear that in mind.”

Rather than annoyed, Sebastian simply seems all the more amused as she sidesteps, moving to fetch a tray adorned with filled glasses. Openly watching her go, he glances aside only as Ciel's arrival at the threshold of the stairs catches his eye.

Staring down at the butler haughtily, the boy follows his servant's previous gaze before giving a subtle smirk.

“Something amusing, my lord?”

“Indeed. Funny to watch a dog barking up what is clearly the wrong tree.”

For a moment the demon's jaw clenches – at both the slight of his gaze, and being referred to as a mutt. “This is her first foray into duties such as these. I simply wish to keep an eye on her – perhaps prevent any disasters.”

“Clearly.”

First at a trickle, and then in droves, the guests begin to arrive. Each servant at their station, the festivities seem to fall into place. Careful ruddy eyes keep tabs on all – ensuring Finnian does no harm, that Mey-Rin is not misreading the list beyond her glasses, nor that Baldroy nor Ryū slight any patron looking for refreshment.

All the while, Ciel conducts himself as per usual, talking with entitled tone to adults beyond his years. Not all offer respect in return, and it's clear the young lord remembers every word.

They'll have Hell to pay later.

In the middle of one such exchange, both demon and contracted stiffen as the sound of breaking glass and a shriek reaches their ears.

“You fool! Are you blind?!”

Crowds parting, Sebastian balks as red wine quickly seeps into a gown of yellow upon the figure of an investor's wife. Shards of glass litter the floor, glittering in puddles of carmine. On her palms and knees, Ryū seems to stare in wide-eyed disbelief at them.

Having stepped back from the affront, the husband gives a small smirk – one not unnoticed by watchful demon eyes.

Sitting back on her haunches, Ryū slowly shakes her head. “...forgive me, my lady – I must have caught my toe -”

“I care little why you've bumbled! Do you have any idea the cost of this dress? More than your miserable servant's life is worth!” Raising a hand, the woman seems to seek to strike the angel's cheek.

Around the room, the other servants gasp harried breaths, too far to intervene.

Yet before the blow can land, a gloved hand catches the woman's wrist.

The stunned silence seems to deepen.

“...forgive me, my dear lady,” Sebastian offers. “But there appears to be wine on your offender's cheek. Surely striking it would only soil your glove...?”

She stiffens, stealing back her arm. “Why...!”

“And, forgive me...but the reprimand of my young lord's help is my responsibility,” Sebastian goes on, peering to her coolly. “There's little need to trouble yourself. After all...I somehow doubt my young master would approve of another striking his help. Compensation will be granted, I assure you – and appropriate punishment delivered. But this not how the Phantomhive household operates.”

Behind the demon, Ryū simply stares at his back, eyes wide and mouth slightly slack with surprise. ...he stopped her...why? Surely better to let her have her way than to cause an even greater scene...!

“Mey-Rin – please attend to this lady and her gown. I'm certain we have something of equal quality for her to don for the rest of the evening. Finnian, please handle the floor. Baldroy, if you please – ensure none of the other guests have been afflicted by errant wine, nor shards of glass.”

After a hesitation of surprise, the others hurry into action, taking their orders and running with them.

“Ryū, if you would.”

Still dazed, she accepts Sebastian's offered hand, flinching as shards of glass within her palm only dig deeper. The action doesn't go unnoticed, the demon pausing before leading her through a servants’ door to the rooms beyond.

“...Sebastian, I -”

“Please, let it wait.”

Balking, the angel's gaze drops in shame, following without a word.

Soon, they find themselves within the servant's quarters. “Sit.”

She obeys.

From a cupboard, Sebastian fetches a small box of first aid, setting it to one side as Ryū stares at the floor, expression wilted. “Your hands.”

Each are bared, palm-up.

Removing his bloodied gloves, the demon takes a knee, a pair of tweezers gripping each shard and placing them in a tin. Ryū does her best not to move, ignoring the sting until only pierced flesh remains.

“This will hurt.”

Alcohol washes over the wounds, earning a small hiss down her throat. Sebastian gives her a glance, but she only stares at the marred skin. Patting them dry with a rag, he takes to winding gauze around and around – threading between her fingers and securing them down her wrists. A few flecks of blood show through, but are little more than pinpricks.

“...there. I'm sure you'll heal quickly, but at least this will play the part of appearance.”

“...ry.”

“Hm?”

Staring at the gauze, Ryū refuses to look up. “...I'm...I'm sorry.”

Sebastian considers her, hearing how difficult the apology is for the angel to make to a demon. “...it was hardly your fault.”

“But I -!”

“I hardly expect an angel – a being a grace on their worst days – to trip on an even surface. I saw the husband's smirk – it was his doing.”

“...why...?”

“Human reasoning is rarely sound. Either way, I will see to it that his lordship is made to know the true nature of your fall. But for tonight, it's best you stay out of the way. I can hardly have you getting blood on anything else – Mey-Rin will take your place, now that everyone has arrived.”

A pause. “...why...did you...”

“Why did I what?”

“...stop her.”

A brow arches. “...from striking you?”

“It would have been a just reward. Ill-intended or not, I should have avoided the misstep. I was at fault – the lord will suffer for my actions.”

“The price of a dress is hardly a concern for him. And given the man's nature to abuse his lordship's help, I doubt master Ciel will want anything to do with him. His lost business will be no real loss, I assure you.”

“You still interfered unnecessarily. It would have been simpler to simply let her strike.”

Still she stares at her hands even as Sebastian in turn stares at her. Expression cool, the demon – still knelt – takes the angel's chin in his hand. For the first time since their meeting, the gaze she gives him is unhardened. Instead, she stares with unguarded eyes of grey, lined with tears and soft with both guilt and child-like doubt.

The sight makes him hesitate – it's not at all what he expected to see.

“...and let her mar that pretty face of yours? Such would have been a crime.” In spite of his hesitation, he offers words expected, reflexive. His grip shifts slightly, cupping at a cheek as a thumb swipes an errant tear. “I could not stand to see your visage red with anything but that beautiful blush I know so well. To know she'd pained you would have made me...irritated.”

Surprise widens and lights her eyes.

“...and I think you have at least some idea what demons do when irritated.” He lets one corner of his mouth curl, both teasing...and foretelling wickedness as eyes narrow. “It may have escalated the situation slightly...but I'm sure master Ciel will agree, I did as necessary, given the truth behind the matter. To have his staff struck by a stranger would be an insult, at any rate.”

Ryū's gaze lowers, still ashamed.

“...now, I'd best ensure the party has not collapsed in my absence. One can only guess what ruins we may find without me there.”

In spite of herself, the angel's lips twitch.

“Please, wait here – there's little need to strain yourself after -”

“Ryū!”

With a bustle, Finnian, Mey-Rin and Baldroy all collapse in the hallway beyond the door, drawing the pair's gazes at the noise. Struggling to untangle themselves, they all create a cacophony as each asks over her health and composure, crowding around and pushing Sebastian to his feet at one side.

Looking surprised, Ryū softens, giving them a tired smile. “I'm all right. Sebastian's gotten me all patched up.”

“Does it hurt?” Finnian demands, eyes round with worry.

“I'll be right as rain in a few days. Just a few cuts and scrapes – really. No need to fuss, you three.”

“I assume you've all attended to your duties...?” the butler cuts in, clearly irritated.

“Yessir!” Mey-Rin replies. “There's not a spot of mess left, and the lady's been properly changed and returned to the party!”

“Master Ciel gave us leave to come check on you!” Baldroy offers. “Said he was worried how long it was takin’.”

A vein ticks in Sebastian's neck. “Worried...of course.” Beneath his breath, he mutters, “Worried there was more than a wound being seen to...”

“Either way, I'm all right,” Ryū cuts in, waving her bandaged hands. “You three'd better get back to it. There's still a party on, after all. I'm sorry you'll all have to pull my weight with my absence.”

“Not a worry,” Baldroy retorts with a grin. “After all, we managed all right without ya before!”

“Not that we don't like your help!” Finnian amends. “But we'll be okay! You just care for those hands!”

“I will.”

“Back upstairs, the lot of you,” Sebastian orders, tone curt. “To leave the ballroom unattended this long is irresponsible!”

“Y-yes, Sebastian!” all three chorus, scrambling back out of the room.

“And you, little angel...”

“Wh-?” Tensing, Ryū watches him take a hand, palm-up. Smiling with both lips and eyes, he presses the former to her gauze.

“Do take care while we're gone.”

Eyes wide, a shade of red dusts her cheeks, staring and without retort.

“Ahh, that's better – this is by far how I prefer your face to redden.” Giving one last smirk, Sebastian releases her hand and takes his leave, silent as a shadow.

Holding her kissed hand in the other, Ryū just stares after him, not sure what to think.

     *SWEATS*      I hope this is okay to write ;w; The idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I just...put fingers to keys until five am lol      One thing people who write with me have to deal with are random drabbles that just...sorta...happen. Suppose I should have warned you earlier, haha! Anyway, I hope this is okay, and I hope everyone’s in character - it’s been AGES since I’ve read or watched Kuroshitsuji, so...I’m still getting back into it through writing with you ;w; If they’re wrong I can fix it lol - especially Sebby =‘D      *shoves this at you and runs away*

#rxvensden #sebastian michaelis #finnian #mey rin #baldroy #tanaka #ciel phantomhive #suigin ryū #blood mention #his angel fallen [ au ]