#the bodyguard's somewhat alive just unconscious

[woednesdayaddams]

in the nick of time she returned to her beloved family friend vampire, dragging a knocked out bodyguard and a lacerated leg whose master hadn’t yet claimed it. she pushes the door open with her foot, taking just a couple steps inside before throwing the acquisitions on the floor. “armand, i’m back.” she vociferated, tone of her voice loud and clear. “there you are. i bear both good and bad news. the bad news is that i got caught by the security. the good part is not only you have all the materials you asked for, but you also have a spare leg.”

❝ human heart. one set of lungs and a pair of feet. ❞

❝ preferably from the same body, but we can pick n' mix. ❞

[perpetualexistence]

We Drive Each Other Batty

Alenoah Week Day 4: Royalty/Vampire AU

Alejandro Burromuerto is an absolute menace to the kingdom of Wawanakwa. He comes from a legacy of vampires that strive to control as much land as possible. He's only recently set his sights on Wawanakwa, and within a year he's enthralled three towns into being his local blood bank. Life is pretty good for him.

He's so confident in his abilities that he decides to go directly for the castle itself.

Aaaand almost immediately finds himself caught by King Chris's personal bodyguard, Chef, who knocks him unconscious with a pan before he can enthrall Chris.

The smart thing to do would be to kill Alejandro. But Chris is a petty man who prefers humiliating people.

Who better to ask how to do that than his personal court-wizard-in-training who Chris specifically because he's snarky and petty?

Noah gets dragged into this and comes up with an idea. If he likes mind controlling people so much, then let Alejandro be on the other side of things. Tinker with a familiar bonding spell to turn Alejandro into a familiar. He'll be forced to listen to someone else's orders, and can't harm anyone except in defense of his wizard. Plus, if done right, it can have the added benefit of making him 'fun size' thanks to having to categorize Alejandro as a bat to make this work. That way his vampire strength and speed won't be as much of an issue.

There's two problems with this plan.

One, the bond can only be created with a wizard who doesn't have a familiar yet. Most adult wizards do. It's even a requirement to bond with a familiar at some point in a good amount of magic schools.

And two, the bond is usually done with two consenting parties. Since Alejandro would be fighting it the whole time, keeping the familiar bond would be an active effort on the wizard's end. It's possible if you find a wizard with enough power, but good luck trying to convince a wizard to be a spell battery.

"Say, kid. You don't have a familiar yet."

"Mclean. Don't you dare."

"Think of it as a new part of your job description!"

"I'm not going to deal with a psychotic vampire for your sick amusement!"

"Sure you are! Do a good enough job and you might get a better holiday bonus this year!"

Thus Noah has accidentally sealed his fate to being stuck with a 4 inch vampire who is absolutely livid at this humiliation.

They both hate this situation so much. Alejandro can't mind control Noah because that's the first thing Noah ordered him not to do the second Alejandro woke up tiny, confused, and pissed.

Noah can't just leave Alejandro alone in a cage in his room all day because the longer and further he stays away from Alejandro, the weaker the bond and the more likely Alejandro will break free from it.

Alejandro keeps trying to persuade Noah that he's learned his lesson the non-magical way. And Noah shuts him right down because he knows that's a lie.

If Alejandro's really being difficult, Noah has no issues with throwing him into a bird cage and ordering him to shut up for a while. Noah really wishes he could just order him to shut up forever, but Alejandro starts fighting against the bond even worse when he can't speak, which usually ends up giving Noah a headache. Temporary relief is the best he can manage.

That and taking him to Chris to see what humiliation Chris and Chef have decided to put Alejandro through for the day. That usually brighten's Noah's day.

Alejandro still gets his own little revenges in. He looks for every loophole under the sun within Noah's orders. He banters at every given opportunity.

He'd love to give backhanded compliments to Noah in front of people that aren't Chris and Chef. However, no one else is allowed to know that Alejandro is still alive.

Letting a vampire live is a big no-no, even if Chris approved of it. Vampires still need generous amounts of blood to survive. Animal blood works somewhat, but it's more like living off rations. Vampires can only get full nutritional value from a human. Which doesn't really endear humans to vampires. (Part of Noah's job is to let Alejandro feed from his as well. It feels more like four little needles than a serious bite, and thanks to Alejandro's new size he doesn't feel that woozy when Alejandro has had his fill. Noah doesn't mind it nearly as much as he pretends to.)

Plus, Alejandro did get some of his hooks outside of the castle, so there's a decent chance someone could recognize him and decide to take advantage of the fact he's easily killable. So when around others, he takes full bat form and pretends to be a regular familiar. He's lucky he can at least talk with Noah telepathically so he doesn't have to be completely mute.

Still, it's not all bad. Now that Alejandro is, magically speaking, a bat, he can actually experience sunlight. He'd always used the metaphor 'you're as radiant as the sun' when charming others. It's a different thing entirely to actually feel its warmth.

Noah takes notice the first time when Alejandro is completely silent for once. He sees Alejandro staring directly at the sun in awe. He actually looks kind of cute sweet like that.

Except Alejandro is staring directly at the sun, and so Noah has to snap Alejandro out of it. He isn't just going to someone blind themselves, even if it is Alejandro. It's almost a shame to see the mask fall back on his face. (Too bad he didn't notice the flicker of shock at someone showing concern for Alejandro's wellbeing.)

With forced proximity, the two start to learn more about each other.

Alejandro learns about Noah first since he can't help but observe the fact that Noah is reading textbooks, but he hasn't seen Noah attend school once. When Noah isn't reading, he's catering to Chris and Chef's whims.

Noah still seems to be doing just fine, though. He knows Noah is advanced for his age based on what he's reading and how much he gloats about it. Still, if he was advanced than Alejandro would expect a tutor to be guiding Noah along to suit his level. The only adults he's seen consistently during his stay with Noah is Chris and Chef.

Alejandro points this out to Noah, and receives a long rant from Noah in return.

See, Noah's completely self taught. Before Chris, his family couldn't afford to get him a tutor. This isn't inherently a problem. Some wizards will take on apprentices for their service rather than for payment if they see potential in a particular student.

The problem is no one wants to teach a child who wants to learn dark magic. Nobody that Noah would ever want to meet, at least.

Noah could lie about not wanting to learn forbidden magic. But he'd always risk getting caught by whoever's training him. Not to mention the risk of getting himself killed because he was performing something dangerous without anyone to save him.

Plus, he considers it incredibly stupid that dark magic is a taboo subject to learn. The reason why creatures like Alejandro get away undetected for so long is because everyone else is more than happy to stick their heads in the sand. Their solution to combat evil is to simply not talk about it. As if that's just going to make it magically go away.

The only real way to learn how to counter it is to study it. It's like how making an antidote for a poison requires a bit of the poison itself so your body knows what to fight against.

Hell, it could even be used for good! Even something like Alejandro's hypnotism. It can lull a growing angry mob to not be stupid. It can force a different evil bastard to do something good.

But no, people like Alejandro screw it over for everyone else, and now any time he tries to make these arguments he's 'the bad guy' or 'should be barred from magic for everyone's good'.

Noah got lucky. Chef found him when he was insulting yet another wizard who shot down his chance at apprenticeship. He might have forgotten angering someone who can throw fireballs isn't the best way to guarantee your own safety.

Chef dragged him away and attempted to yell some sense into him. When it was clear that Noah was still just as defiant, he dragged him directly to Chris. Who ended up liking his spite and sarcasm, and offered him the job of court-wizard in training. It was hard for Chris to find any wizard willing to stay with him too long. And he's got plenty of dark magic crap that he has stored away. Both of them get what they want!

Noah wouldn't learn how demanding Chris was and how he'd make people put a lot of effort into stupid tasks that drive less patient people mad until later.

He took the deal because it was the best he was going to get. He knows he's being underpaid compared to what a regular court magician would be making. But for as much as Chris is a pain of a boss, he's given Noah exactly what he's wanted. He'd dare to say that Chris and Chef cared about him. Though Noah will refuse to say if he feels the same way about them.

Alejandro can't help but admire Noah for that. Deep down past that apathetic, snarky exterior, there is someone who's capable of ambition. Or at least capable of using spite as a motivator.

Alejandro's mask slips as he ends up sharing how he can relate. He gives off the airs of a vampire who's been around for at least a century or two. Truth be told, he's only a couple of months older than Noah. He's aging as a human would, for now.

He, and his lineage, are born vampires rather than bitten. Hence how he can have multiple thralls at once and transform into mist or a variety of animals. Bitten vampires are lucky to be able to hypnotize one person, and are typically limited to the advanced strength and speed.

So he can certainly one up the average vampire...but not other born vampires. Or vampires who have actually lived for centuries. He's still considered nothing more than an insolent child not to be taken seriously.

He does have the expectation on him to expand the Burromuerto influence. But he's constantly being compared to other relatives and their accomplishments. Particularly that of his brother José who has a couple of decades over Alejandro's head.

Alejandro has been working hard to close the power gap. He's been training to be as strong and fast as possible. His hypnosis works so well because he put in the work to learn how to actually charm people. The magic is to make sure the feeling stays for longer than it would naturally. But getting people to do what he wants? All him.

And it's still not enough for anyone else. So he decided to get a headstart on the family tradition. He was supposed to wait until he came of age, but he was already strong and confident in himself. Going off and succeeding early would prove everyone else wrong.

He'd been doing so well, too. He hadn't even needed to kill anybody. Unlike most of his family, he doesn't particularly care for it. Not because he cares that much about humans. But because he sees it as a waste of a resource. Sure, you can inspire fear into others with a death. But that fear can easily turn into outrage, and rebellion. It will be harder to control a population that is actively working to fight against you. Much easier to charm them and have them not even realize anything is wrong. Everyone is alive, and there is nothing to worry about. They just have to give a bit of blood every once in a while. And for that, Alejandro would make sure nothing else would dare to touch them.

That last part of the story concerns Noah. A lot. But it's...nice? That Alejandro cares? Enough to value a human life. Considering the rest of his family, it's a miracle Alejandro's got anything resembling compassion.

And at least he's finally being honest about something for once. Noah prefers honest but callous to kind but insincere. This part of Alejandro's still concerning...but he likes it more.

It's the start of these two doing more than just argue with each other. Alejandro's still not happy about being small. He complains about it just as constantly. But it's no longer lashing out at Noah. Noah doesn't really throw him into the time out cage anymore. Alejandro is gentler when he bites into Noah's neck to feast. Noah is less tense when it happens. He leans into it more. They bicker still, but they're actually willing to work with each other.

It's how they figure out a loophole. Neither can't really use their own magics to their full potential anymore....but they do now have access to each other's magic. They just have to be willing to train each other in it.

On Noah's side, Alejandro is trying to teach him how to hypnotize others through charming them. It doesn't go well. Noah's terrible at giving compliments. Changing his wardrobe to accentuate Noah's looks doesn't help when he doesn't flaunt them. That shopping trip to get Noah a new outfit definitely didn't awaken anything in Alejandro. Except it does. Noah is indulging him in one of his favorite activities. He looks cute in some outfits, hot in others. Noah mocks, Noah teases, Noah banters. It's just Noah, actually. Noah's cute, and he's also hot. Oh no. Alejandro's got himself a crush. ...MOVING ON FROM THAT-

Eventually, it clicks. This isn't working because Alejandro is teaching Noah how to be a Burromuerto. Which Noah certainly isn't. To charm someone, you have to work with what you naturally have and exaggerate it. Noah has snark. Use that to insult people that his victims would hate, not the victim themselves. Nobody likes being insulted, but everyone has something that they love gossiping about. That's Noah's in to get others to open up.

Then, there's the actual ask. Noah can't directly say what he wants all the time. Sometimes that may work, but sometimes what he wants is directly opposite to what someone else wants. He can find out when it's safe to be direct or not through gossiping. Then, if it's not safe? Make them feel safe. People underestimate Noah because of his age and figure. Use that.

Noah's just a pathetic, cute scrungly little guy who doesn't do much. What's the harm in letting him take a dangerously powerful grimoire off your hands? He's not going to do much with it. He's just curious.

Noah grins with pride the day he's able to hypnotize a guard who constantly abuses their power into humiliating himself.

On Alejandro's side, Noah's willing to teach him shadow magic. He wants to start with teaching Alejandro how to change their shape, and then move on up to making them solid.

There is also teleporting through shadow, but Noah's not teaching him that. That would give Alejandro the ability to leave Noah. Which would be bad for the whole 'keep Alejandro in check thing'. For no other reason. Noah wouldn't miss him. Not one bit. They just have to stay together for practicality. That's all. Let's get back to talking about shadows.

Alejandro assumes this should be a piece of cake. It's just another form of manipulating, just with a thing rather than a person.

He's terrible at it.

He coaxes, he begs, he pleads with the shadow to just move, and it refuses him. He's cursing in Spanish at an inanimate object.

Noah laughs at him for this. This earns Noah some curse words.

Noah tells him to stop treating magic like it's a person to be charmed. It's not. It's a thing. It follows orders so far as you figure out the right language. You tell it what you want, and then it gives it to you. No convincing, no tricking. Just asking.

Alejandro can't ask for one thing when he means another. That just confuses the magic and makes things not work. He needs to be direct for once in his life. Trust in his own ability to make something happen. Not in his ability to trick someone else into making something happen.

It takes Alejandro a while to just ask the magic to do what he wants.

I can't figure out how it'd work on Alejandro's side yet. Probably because I haven't yet defined the kind of magic he can do. 'Standard wizard fair' isn't going to cut it if this is coming from a personal bond/something that's intrinsic to Noah that would simply take a different form with Alejandro. It'd definitely have something to do with tying into how Alejandro doesn't actually NEED to charm people/force them to like him to get what he wants. His problem would definitely be that he's trying to force the magic to go exactly how he wants it to go. But magic's not something that likes being tamed like that. So Alejandros's got to learn to effectively say what he wants and just trust in his own abilities enough to make it happen.

When he does?

Alejandro shows off with a little shadow puppet show. He orchestrates puppets no bigger than him from atop Noah's bookshelf. It's endearing, it's sincere, and Noah is screwed because he is in love with this little vampire.

The more they teach each other, the stronger they grow. Neither realize it, but the bond is no longer draining each other.

They learn about this when someone attempts to mug Noah when he's running one of Chris's errands. The mugger grabs an Alejandro in bat form and slams him against stone to stop Noah from using magic. Alejandro is alive, but in a daze. Noah immediately makes tendrils of shadows to fling the mugger into the nearest wall, then hold them aloft in the air. He's running for Alejandro who's mumbling, asking if Noah is alright.

Noah doesn't know healing magic, but he's putting all of his focus into figuring out something to help Alejandro. It's working somewhat. Alejandro's head is clearer, though his body is still damaged. Noah puts more effort into making sure all of Alejandro is better. So much so that he doesn't notice a second mugger coming to check on their partner, who is now sneaking up on Noah. Noah is grappled before he can react, and is dragged away kicking and shouting.

Alejandro acts before he can think twice about it. The next thing he knows, he's standing at eye level with both of his newest victims. He hisses, his fangs bared, ordering them silent before they can scream about his presence. They are to release Noah and grovel.

The muggers do so without hesitation, their eyes glazed over. Alejandro wraps his arms around Noah in a hug. His grip is tight. He is at his full strength and could crush whoever he desired. He is gentle with his querido and plants a kiss on his forehead.

Alejandro wants so badly to drain them dry, but Noah takes priority. The muggers are to leave, turn themselves in, and forget the type of magic Noah and Alejandro used, and their faces.

The muggers leave, and the two are left to look each other in the eyes for the first time.

They stare for a while. Neither of them quite sure of what the other wants to do right now. Noah's the one who breaks the silence first.

"This late growth spurt's a bit much, wouldn't you say?"

Alejandro snorts at the absurdity.

They agree to keep the familiar bond as it is. It still lets them communicate with each other telepathically, and lets them use the other's magic.

They'll have to hide the fact that Alejandro is at his full strength, of course. Particularly from Chris and Chef. Alejandro tries and finds out that he can shrink at will now. Truth be told, he doesn't mind it anymore. (He's touch-starved, and rather enjoys being held and pampered by Noah.)

Alejandro also promises not to go enthralling everyone.

"Just five thralls will suffice."

"No."

"Two?"

"No!"

"One? I'll even make it Justin. Just imagine the things we could have him do."

"...No."

"You hesitated!"

"Stop tempting me!"

"Is it really tempting if you were already thinking it?"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"That's not the point!"

The two stop when they realize that bombshell just got dropped.

They finally have proper confessions and decide to start dating. Alejandro immediately offers to turn Noah into a vampire so they can live together. Noah immediately shuts him down. Alejandro's sad until Noah explains.

One, that's a huge commitment when they've literally just started dating. And two, if Noah did that now then he'd have to be a teenager forever. He hates being a teenager NOW. An eternity of that? Hell no. In the future though? They can come back to this, and Noah'll let him know if he changes his mind.

Alejandro is more than happy to wait.

Fun little side note: Alejandro's got a bat form, and I already know exactly which species he is!

Meet the vampyrum spectrum! Also known as the spectral bat, or the great false vampire bat. They're carnivorous little guys who eat birds, rodents, and uniquely, other kinds of bats! Part of their natural habitat covers Peru, and they're also fun in that while most other bat species are polygynous where it's just one male with multiple females, these guys are mostly monogamous! Perfect for Alejandro!

[awkward-tension-art]

Miscellaneous Drabbles

These are unfinished drabbles I thought of but have no idea what to do with tbh

Enjoy! because I have no idea what to do with these!

None of these are proof read at all!

Lost and Found (Gregor x F!Reader)

cw: Separatist!reader, Count Dooku, mention of dead clone

“Ma’am, I think it’s best if you return to the ship.” One of your droid bodyguards followed your steps. 

“No.” You snapped, walking towards the wreckage of the Republic transport. You were refueling on some remote, backwater planet called Abafar when a ship had breached the planet's atmosphere and crashed. 

You stepped over a body. The plastoid was familiar. 

Clones. Republic forces. 

Perhaps you could get some information from whatever was left of the ship. 

Something collapsed and the commando droids guarding you immediately aimed their rifles. Out of the burning wreckage stumbled another clone. 

The armor was bulky, scratched and...different. Unique.

Clone commando. You narrowed your eyes and remained still, watching him take two steps forward before collapsing. 

“Is he alive?” You asked, looking over to one of the droids. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take him with us.” You responded, “I’m sure the Count would like to know I have a new toy.”

Once you got back to your ship, you made a call. After a few moments, the holo of Count Dooku appeared on your ship's console. 

“Father,” You lowered your head in greeting, “Congratulations on your victory of Sarrish.”

“Thank you, my daughter.” He sounded somewhat proud of himself, “But is there another reason you called?” 

“I found a clone commando,” You informed him, “I’d like to keep him for myself.” 

“Interesting find.” Your father rubbed his chin in thought, “Get whatever information you can out of him. After that he’s yours to do whatever you wish.”

“Of course, father. Thank you.” You bowed, “I'll see you again soon.”

“Stay safe, my daughter.”

The holo ended and you turned, watching as your droid bodyguards restrained the unconscious man. 

What a curious find indeed….

Massage (Tup x Reader)

cw: Fluff, headaches, Tup has better hair than me

You noticed how Tup rubbed his temples sometimes. Your cyare sometimes dealt with headaches with seemingly no known cause. 

He was doing it again as he sat on his bed in the barracks. Other clones mingled around, either resting, reading or just mingling about.

You had an idea. 

Tup opened one eye as you sat next to him, “Hello, love.” he greeted sweetly. 

“Another headache?” You looked at him in concern.

He nodded, “It’s not a problem, I can handle it.”

You hummed, moving to sit behind him. He looked at you confused but didn’t say anything. Carefully your fingers removed the tie he kept his hair in. It fell to his shoulders in soft curls.

“Oh!” He jerked slightly, “Um, love, what are you…?”

“Shhh I want to see if this helps.” You murmured, beginning to run your fingers through his curly strands. His hair was soft and shiny, which was a surprise for a soldier. 

You dug your fingers into his scalp gently, massaging his head. 

“O-oh…” Tup melted, letting out a soft whine. 

“Better?” You smiled, moving closer to him. 

His response was soft, bordering a quiet moan, “Yes…” he moved, deciding to lean into your chest as you kept massaging his scalp. He practically became puddy in your hands. 

You laughed softly, planting a kiss on his temple. 

Signal (Echo x Reader)

CW: Hacking, swearing, mentions of the Citadel,

The signal you found was a fun one to mess with. Perhaps playing with Separatist channels wasn’t the safest way to pass your time, but….

Well, despite being a neutral party in the war, you had friends in the Republic. 

You typed away on your pad, and the signal jumped and jerked. It reacted as if you hurt the thing. 

Signals couldn’t feel pain. They usually came from programs or droids, so you continued with your poking and prodding. However after a second, something tugged at your heart. 

Damn, your empathy. 

With an eye roll, you typed to the program broadcasting the signal. 

‘Sorry for hurting you.’

You waited. After a second, the signal hummed, as if singing a small tune. 

….what…? Why does it seem so….human?

-I am alright. I am alright. I am alright. 

“Okay…” you mumbled to yourself, “Weird ass program…” Your curiosity got the better of you, so you made a live connection. This would open your location up to be tracked but, you wouldn’t be long, “What’s your name?”

-CT-1409. CT-1409. CT-1409. CT-1409.

Something in you crashed. You knew the clones of the Republic had numbers just like those. 

Did you accidentally hack into a Republic channel!?

“Uh…shit.” You mumbled, scrambling to find a way to be as unthreatening as possible, “W-where are you?” 

-Citadel. Citadel. Get to the ship. Must protect the ship. 

The Citadel? That's a separatist prison made specifically for Jedi. What the fuck is going on!?

That couldn’t be right. Your computers were telling you that the signal was coming from Skako Minor, “Are you alone?” You asked, carefully.

-Fives. Fives. Fives. Where's Fives? Where’s Fives?

Fives…a fellow clone, most likely. 

“Do you need help?” Your eyes roamed the computer in front of you. This program was sounding more and more like a disoriented person in desperate need of help.

Please. Please. Please. Help. Help. Get to the ship.

Your blood ran cold, “Don’t…don’t worry. I’ll think of something. I’ll contact the Republic to help you.” You swallowed, “I have your clone number. But what's your actual name?”

I am Echo. I am Echo. I am Echo.

Dance (Padme x Reader)

CW: politics, political scheming, Padme being a lovely queen, I am actually in love with her

She was certainly a beautiful woman. Senator Amidala. 

You, a senator of Confederacy of Independent Systems, were attending something of a ball in Sataran, one of the neutral planets. It was another useless attempt for peace. 

Your fellow colleagues were tense and unhappy, after all, the Jedi and some of their own clone slaves were acting security. 

You…didn’t entirely care. The Jedi, even with all their problems, weren't going to slaughter unarmed politicians. Besides, you had better things to focus on. 

Such as a fascinating senator. 

Padme Amidala was well known, even to the politics of the CIS. A driver of peace. A symbol of a united galaxy. Someone who is trying to end the war with as little blood shed as possible. She was speaking with one of your colleagues, Senator Sapha. 

You stood, and approached. In another time, maybe you could have been friends. But tonight, you had information. Information that may secure you a position in the Republic.

This war will end badly for the CIS. You’ve seen the patterns. The losses. you needed allies for when the Republic wins. 

“Senator Amidala?” You spoke her name and she turned, “May I have this dance?” You introduced yourself with a bow and an open hand. 

She gave you a critical gaze and a careful smile, “Of course.”

You both walked to the dance floor, listening to the music. Just as predicted, you had eyes on you. Behind her, one of the Jedi guards was glaring at you. His arms were crossed, and his gaze intense. 

You gave him a smirk and began a slow waltz. 

Someone is jealous. Unrequited love? Or a secret relationship?

“I don’t believe I've had the pleasure,” Padme spoke as you two danced to the slow ballroom music.

“Neither have I.” You responded, “We share a former mentor. Mina Bonteri.”

“Mina?” She was surprised at such a revelation, “It’s a surprise we haven’t met before.” 

That Jedi was still glaring, so you decided to play.

You put your foot between hers and spun, performing a quick sacada, “I know. It's a shame this war has stopped us from making friends, isn't it?” The music picked up, and so did your movements. She followed your lead with skill. 

Her eyes narrowed. Oh, she was searching. What for?

Information? Or was she like you, wanting more allies on either side? This game was a ladder. You and her were both trying to climb. 

She twirled under your hand and you pulled her close, “What do you want?” 

Bingo.

“The end of the war,” You lied, “And the only way we can achieve that is by making friends.” Your body leaned, dipping her deeply, “Don’t you agree?”

She smirked, knowing this game well, “I do.” She stood, this time pulling you. The senator of Naboo was attempting to take the lead, “But something tells me it’s not about that.”

“You found me out.” You spun her, spotting how angry that Jedi looked.

Cute.

“And what is it you had to pull me into a dance to tell me?” She was straight forward, you liked it. 

“I’m rather selfish, I need you to pass a message for me,” You whispered, leaning forward and disguising your words under a close ocho, “And there are eyes on us.”

Padme pulled back and spun again before walking a circle around you. Your hands connected again and you both became close once more, “A warning.” She confirmed. 

“There’s a traitor on your senate. Someone who is gaining more power in this war,” You whispered, leaning and dipping her again. Her expression gave nothing away. 

She was skilled at this game.

“Who?” She asked, as soon as she was standing again. 

The music had picked up, and the both of you were in a simple but intimate tango. 

“I don’t know,” You admitted, “But I have my own web. It’s someone high up in the Republic food chain.” 

Padme stole the lead again, this time, bringing you into a twirl. Her hands shifted, grabbing your waist and even the side of your neck, “What do you want in return for this information?” 

“You to join my web.” You whispered, “And I’ll join yours. It’ll be a mutual agreement.” 

“That's all?”

“Amnesty, as soon as the Republic wins this war.” You took the lead again. The music was ending, and soon your conversation would need to be cut short, “I need to secure my future. Surely you understand.” 

“I do.” She said as you dipped her again in time with the song.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you looked down at her. The song ended and you pulled her to stand again. There was fascination and interest in her brown eyes. 

Seems you charmed her. 

“Thank you for this dance, Senator Amidala.” You took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She didn’t look away as you did so. 

“No, thank you.” She had a small smile, “I’d like another dance sometime tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You winked and stepped away. 

Time to get back to the political game.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 08

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, fainting, anxiety

A/N:  this is a tiny chapter that i wrote while listening to folklore from taylor swift and i just really wanted to share it today. hope you enjoy it. much love xx

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Y/N rushed off the set, she felt sick, too sick. The scene replayed in her head like a wrapped twisted horror movie scene and everyone around her seemed to look at her, almost as if they knew, shaming her. She continued to run, to run to the car as if going to the car was going to save all her issues. It was Bucky’s car and Bucky made her feel safe, it was safe, it was safe there. However, she could still feel the stares burning on her back like camera flashes and with her hands in front of her face, she ended up going against someone. 

     - Y/N? Are you okay? - the words sounded echoed and she looked up to see Chuck holding her, concerned drawn all over his normally relaxed features. Yet, not even the familiar face seemed to calm her down. She could still feel it, she could still feel his hand on her leg, his rough, sandpaper like skin rubbing against her thigh. Was that why she had gotten the role? Did she had no ability to act? Was it all a way to get her close? She started to breathe in fast, breathing in and out faster than her body allowed her. Soon enough, she felt herself dizzy headed. - Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?

The sound seemed to dim and the lights got brighter until suddenly everything just collapsed on top of her and she felt herself get heavier and heavier. Chuck gripped onto her as so she wouldn’t fall onto the ground. The man looked around for anyone but there wasn’t anyone who was even looking at him or had even noticed her. As he looked around he did see something, Bucky, staring him down who started walking his way as if he were a lion and Chuck a gazelle. On that moment, Chuck wished he hadn’t been the one who had caught her.

    - She fainted. - he said before he could taste a bit of the former Winter Soldier’s ire. - She was breathing too fast, I don’t know why.

Bucky mumbled something under his breathe, cursing the director and himself for not having been there for Y/N. He took her from his friends’ arms, his own arm going under her knees to pick her up bridal style, her face leaning against his chest. He looked around and people still weren’t interested. At least there was something that didn’t change about the world, he thought. Still selfish, still unable to look outside their own lives to see others. He wanted to be wrong about her being eaten alive, he so wanted to be wrong yet you don’t live to be over a hundred and not know what soft people go through. 

He wanted to be wrong so badly, he wanted to protect her from everything. God, he wanted to be able to tell her it wouldn’t happen again but he couldn’t. He could punch his way through protecting her but he could never tell her that other people wouldn’t try it. In that moment he wondered what was worse, if his past or her present. 

Bucky guided her into the back seat of his car, pulling a quilted blanked, which normally laid on the floor of the car for whenever one of his friends passed out drunk, and laid it over her. Last thing she needed was for some cheeky paparazzo to photograph her unconscious in the back of someone’s car. As he drove, his eyes were glued onto the mirror, eyes on her. He drove the softest and slowest he could, as if he carried a newborn baby. 

He got to her apartment and drove inside the garage, parking next to that oil stain before going to pick her up once more. He probably guessed she had fainted due to fast breathing, probably an anxiety attack. He should’ve gone after her, he told himself as he stepped inside the lift. Some of her neighbours gave him encouraging looks, as if carrying an unconscious woman was something to be proud of. He gave them intimidating looks, exiting the lift and walking straight to her home. Her home always smelled nice, notes of vanilla, apple and cinnamon, probably due to the tea light candles she had scattered around several rooms. In any other situation he would tell her about it being a fire hazard but by the amount of candles, he guessed it probably brought her a sense of comfort to see the twinkling flame and smell the sweet aromas. 

Walking into her room, he pushed the several blankets that decorated her bed and laid her down, pulling the blind down and the blankets to cover her. She will be okay, he told himself. He just didn’t know if to believe himself. 

Y/N woke up not with the sun shining, no, it was night time and she couldn’t remember exactly how she had ended up home. She gripped her sheet and rose her torso up, leaning against the metal framing of her bed while her free hand rubbed the sleep off her eyes. Her hearing was still somewhat echoey but she could hear two people fighting. She rose from her bed and walked up to the door, opening it slowly to check who was fighting.

    - She was feeling uncomfortable and she fainted. Are you seriously gonna give her a talk because of that? - she could recognise Bucky’s voice, seeing his arm from the fringe of the door. 

   - She’s a disappointment for this agency. What if the production had gone on hold? - that was definitely Miss Olson’s voice.

   - She’s human and considering how you and your people treat her, it’s not surprising she hasn’t been completely healthy.

   - You are her bodyguard so I would suggest you stay out of this. 

   - I will protect her from you if it’s necessary now get out. You can speak with her during her working hours like a regular person. - he closed the door on her, the harsh sound making Y/N take in a silent gasp, hand in front of her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure how the former Winter Soldier would react to someone listening on his conversations so she rushed back to her bed, pulling the bedding up to her.

She felt guilty, guilty he had to deal with her problems and guilty she had put the agency in trouble. She didn’t meant to, she really didn’t meant to cause anyone any harm. Maybe people were right, maybe she should’ve stuck to theatre, that was all she could do. Maybe her father was right, she should’ve made use of the law degree which was gathering dust in the attic. She didn’t know, she didn’t know anymore. The only time the director seemed to be happy was if she was being what he wanted, the agency was barely happy. Maybe she wasn’t a good actress.

    - Y/N? - she turned her head to the side to see Bucky holding a paper cup from the tea shop downstairs. - I got you some tea, thought it’d make you feel better.

    - Bucky, it’s past your clock in time. You should be home with your friends.

   - Well ... - he sat next to her, putting the cup on her bedside table. - I only consider Steve my friend, the others are just people I live with. Besides, it’s Taco night in the tower and I don’t particularly fancy it. 

   - I really fucked up didn’t I? - she sighed. - I’m going to get fired.

   - No, princess, you’re not gonna get fired. - he handed her the tea. - The director personally promised me you’re not gonna get fired. 

   - Really? - he felt the breath that had gotten stuck on his throat leave once he noticed she didn’t seem to realise the pet name he had let slip.

   - Yeah. Come on, you just got nervous, it happens. I got nervous too when I was first drafted. 

   - With all due respect, Bucky but you don’t look like the guy who gets nervous. 

   - When I was first drafted, I spent at least half an hour in the bathroom throwing up. I would say you deal with stress much more gracefully than me. 

   - You’re just saying that to make me feel better. - she laughed, moving her head to look at the blankets covering her legs, hair moving to form almost a curtain which kept Bucky from seeing her soft, almost princess-like smile. Bucky had met several women and taken out some more but none of them seemed to have the softest of movements Y/N had, the elegance which came ever so naturally yet mixed with her natural clumsiness so perfectly. It was a stellar thing he loved to experience. - I don’t know if I’m worth all of that. 

    - Come on, you did so good today. 

    - Sure ... “it’s like he was touching a piece of wood” surely sounds like a great day of acting. 

    - That’s not your fault, maybe your friend just sucks at touching.

    - No, I just suck at reacting to touch. 

    - Mhm ... - Bucky looked at her before an idea popped into his head. He smirked, before his fingers went to touch her torso, dancing around and effectively tickling her. Y/N let out a hearty chuckle, letting herself lay down in the middle of her several pillows while he tickled her torso up and down, head moving with chuckles. He was standing atop her watching her eyes closed, large wide smile, the only type of smile he’d seen in Coney Island which her hands trying to shoo his away while the most melodic of chuckles excited through her still painted scarlet lips.

    - Bucky! - she shrilled as his hands left her torso to instead hold his body, each hand on the side of her shoulders. Y/N gained her breathe, her eyes opening up to stare at his. She wondered why time suddenly stopped, one hand going to cup his face while other pushed some of the hair that covered his eyes away. 

The eyes, you cannot change someone’s eyes. They remain mostly the same from the moment you are born to the moment you die. They remain the same through hard and good moments of your life and Bucky’s had remained the same. They were bright, bright and clear, contrasting his mostly conflicted mind. You could almost see yourself in them. 

     - You have really pretty eyes.

     - Don’t change the subject. - he coughed, trying to maybe get the flush he was getting to disappear. - You seem pretty reactive to touch, I’d say it’s Charles fault. 

     - You don’t need to make me feel better, Bucky. - she sat up. - You really don’t. Maybe I’m just not good enough for all of this.

     - You cannot win every single battle, no one does.

     - Have you ever lost a battle? - Y/N found it harder to believe that the Winter Soldier formerly known as a ghost story for how good he was would have ever lost something. No, she just seemed to be finally waking up that maybe her place was not here.

     - Yes and my loss was pretty much publicised all over the Washington papers. You can Google it, Sam has pretty much all of them framed in the kitchen. I am reminded of it everyday. - he chuckled, turning to face her. - It’s not going to happen again, Y/N. I can promise you that. 

Y/N remembered one thing that her mother had told her when she was little. She was riding her bike and hit a stone making her crumble and fall to the ground, hurting her knee in the process. She didn’t want to get on a bike after that but her mum took her hand and sat her on the bike, told her she believed she could do it again and when she replied she couldn’t, her mum told her “it only really takes one person to believe in you”. She had never thought of it much after, she had never really had someone believing her. She could maybe say her agency did but she was too smart to know what her contract stated. If she did well, they earn money. It’s not that they believe in her, it’s that she’s bankable. However, looking into Bucky’s eyes, hearing his words echo in her mind, maybe someone believed in her.

     - Thank you for defending me today.

     - Anytime. 

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[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {2}

Chapter summary; The time of the parley is finally here. You arrive at the club you and Steve decided the conference would be held. During your time there you don’t only get a face for the new mob boss, you also get a taste of his personality. 

Pairing: Steve x reader (mafia!au)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 2/5

Word; 8k

Warnings; mentions of drugs, alcohol and nicotine use, mentions of canon-type violence

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: So, like... this chapter wasn’t meant to become so long but it did anyways. hehe, sorry for that one. And also, I decided that this, now after starting to write it, that it will be (at least) five chapters rather than the four I planned it to be. PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

"We're here, Miss", you looked up at your chauffeur, who already was looking back at you in the rearview mirror.

You'd been so in your own headspace the whole drive here, to where you and Steven would meet, that you hadn't noticed you arrived. There was definitely a reason, which was that you'd done everything from flicking through the complete portfolio, now including the newest document as well, that T'Challa and Shuri had put together for you about the latest Canine boss. Even your contract you'd looked over once more. Perhaps you could call it a compulsive habit of yours rather than simple caution, seeing how it always was something you felt you needed to do, even though neither of the current documents would reveal any new fact or fault.

Seemingly it was something Mr Davon, which your chauffeur's name was, had noticed regarding how he hadn't engaged in the usual conversation the two of you commonly partook in. And by how he now looked knowingly at you, confirmed it.

"Thank you, Davon", you nodded to the grey-haired man in the front seat for notifying you that you'd arrived at the club. The man in question simply smiled before opening his door and stepped out.

Despite that you insisted on doing it yourself, you knew the usual custom of him walking around the car to open the door for you would follow his exit from the vehicle. And the moment you finished gathering the files you'd read and put them into your handbag, the sound of someone unlocking your door came.

As the door swung open, you instantly heard the sound and low thumping of music, and as soon as your eyes pulled from the car's interior to instead look outside, you were met by the lazy radiance of neon. Unconsciously, you felt your nose scrunch at the scene.

Just because this property laid in one of the few neutral territories in New York didn't mean you hadn't already scouted the site. It may be no dingy and low life hood club, the pay to enter price that was quite expensive taking care of that problem. Thus, most of those coming here weren't ordinary people. It was those for which money wasn't a problem or had enough connections to be let inside. Consequently, there was no line of people outside the entrance. Still, you loathed the idea of meeting Brooklyn's Golden boy here.

Nevertheless, you needed to admit it was better than the place Steven originally had suggested, which for a fact had been in the heart of Brooklyn. It had been a hard no to enter his grounds for a conference. The same the opposite way. That was you now found yourself in the Northern part of Queens.

"Everything alright, Miss?" Your eyes snapped to Davon, who expectantly looked over the top of the door. Patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

"Always", you flaunted a lighthearted smile, able to do so because of the adrenaline that slowly started to settle in. It always happened before each crucial business meeting. Nothing new. Hence, you did nothing but take a deep breath to contain yourself slightly as you stepped out of the car.

There hadn't been a need for a jacket when you left your office. And though the evening air was slightly colder and served a gentle breeze, the late June wheater could still be deemed warm. Therefore, your skin didn't prickle, nor did you feel chilly, while watching one of your trusted guards, which just now had talked with the bouncer, walk towards you.

"What did he say?" You asked the big man stopping in front of you. Joshua, your most entrusted bodyguard since day one, looked dapper in the darker clothes he wore. Most of the time, he wore opaque colours. Goes with the job, the brunette always says. But, the attire itself was usually laid-back, now though he didn't wear a t-shirt or jeans. Instead, the suit you'd gifted him.

"Said that the Canines been here for the last hour", your eyebrows raised at that. You may regard punctuality as one of the keys to success. As well as to get people to view you as prepared rather than tardy. But one hour ahead of the scheduled time? That wasn't punctuality. It was impatience. Steven thought this, or rather his, deal would be done and over with swiftly, it seemed.

"Very well", you opted to say, hearing the car door close behind you when you took a few steps forward.

"I wish you good luck, Miss", you looked over your shoulder, finding Mr Davon having retaken his position by the driver's door, a kind smile on his lips. The man always was polite and wished you a favourable outcome for each meeting you went to.

"I assure you when we see each other next time, that good luck will certainly have been what ensured me my deal", you responded, earning an amused chuckle from Davon.

"I sure hope so. I'll be waiting with bated breath until you come back and tell me the good news", your smile turned a little more genuine towards the man as you nodded at him a final time before following Joshua towards the club's entrance.

Your heels clicked as you moved forwards over the pavement. Even when you stepped into the marbled and luxuriously decorated foyer, did the sound echo.

There was no question that this club wasn't for everyone. If not noticeable from the entrance hall you walked through - the personnel working there simply throwing glances your way before quickly looking away - it was apparent by the nature of the club. The clean, near shining from how polished it was, environment, along with the absence of the pungent and soured smell of alcohol, served as a constant reminder.

And though the marbled floor didn't turn into a sticky carpet when Joshua lead you further in, preferably a dark tiled floor, it became clear you closed in on the actual club part of the building. The sound of your heels faded as the music increased. Quite promptly, you started to feel the bass vibrate through the floor. Likewise, could you make out the lyrics of the songs.

Past your bodyguard, you saw how the dimmed lighting you walked through were replaced by those of neons. They reflected off the floor, the polished metal features on counters and the leatherlike seatings you spotted further ahead.

Your eyes, however, were pulled from trying to observe the area ahead to Joshua when he glanced over his shoulder. It was his silent way, regarding how the music neared the louder decibel, of asking you if everything still felt fine. Regardless that you often went with his gut-feeling if a situation was safe or not, Joshua always checked with you. Chiefly, because he knew your instinct was as good as his. You'd kept yourself alive as much as he had, to be honest.

And regarding how you didn't felt anything was off at the moment, you curtly nodded to ensure him to continue. This was a parley, after all. And, on top of that, it was pure commons sense to not draw weapons on neutral grounds. Hence, no need to worry. Yet.

When once more walking forwards, you now entered the main space.

Immidetly you regarded the multiple bar counters, the dancefloor and the tables, including the people located at those places. Albeit the light was dim and the pink, blue and purple neons contorted the colours of clothes, you spotted no dress under the price tag of a couple of thousand dollars nor any suit. You even guessed the multiple glasses filled with drinks scored as ridiculously high.

Although, it wasn't to discern those things you surveyed the room. It was to find allies and foes. The former was easier. Regarding how you not only knew who your own women along the panthers were, but also because they were the sole ones meeting your gaze as your eyes roamed the space. The latter, though, was trickier. Not only because men, already surrounded by one or multiple women, lingered their eyes over you. Even a few ladies did the same thing. More so due to the fact foes were meant to blend in.

"One in the right corner, standing with the blonde. Another two, respectively sitting with the pal in a white shirt and lounging at the bar".

You'd noticed Joshua had fallen into your step, so he preferably walked alongside you then a step ahead. Although, you hadn't felt how he dipped his head, for others rather insignificantly, but which for you enabled to hear his voice as he spoke. It was an efficient way to let him communicate with you without others noticing. And though he hadn't explained what he informed you about, it was enough for you to know.

One more time, you dragged your eyes across the room, albeit not stopping significantly longer on the people the man beside you'd pointed out. Merely to hide the fact you knew, notwithstanding the conversations they were having with their company, most of their attention was on you.

"The rest?" You looked away from the scene you'd lingered by to instead look to your side. The brunette beside you had still his head tipped slightly towards you to hear if you said anything, even if his gaze was set straight forward.

"I believe they're ahead, somewhat of an equal amount watching the corridor and him", the swift action of indicating forwards made your eyes trail from Joshua's profile to look forth.

The two of you had almost wandered half the length of the circular room and up a couple of stairs, but it seemed you wouldn't need to do a whole lap to reach the end, only climb up the last fleet of steps to the uppermost part of the room. Thus now, not more than ten or so feet before you, there was an opening in the wall.

It looked like the beginning of a corridor, one which had two men stationed by it. Even though you instantly saw they must belong to Steven's troupe, the way they lounged at the hallway entrance made them look more like fellows wanting to distance themselves from the main room of the party than bodyguards. However, the way their conversation died and eyes instantly snapped to watch you when you came closer gave them away for anyone who may have looked.

Joshua now stepped in front of you, seemingly holding a brief and tense dialogue with the two men. The three of them were all the same build, tall and sturdy. Although, you didn't feel small among them. Nor did you when Joshua motioned for you to follow him in between the two chaps.

You held your head high, knowing how much these guys ever stared at you with a burning rivalry that you never would fight them. You would fight their boss.

When you headed down the corridor, with no doors adorning the walls, you could hear multiple voices, possibly one which belonged to Steven, resound lowly from the open entrance at the end.

You supposed something adorned the walls, or they'd simply been built in such a way that the further you progressed, the more they blocked the sound of music. Otherwise, you wouldn't have heard the merry laughs or chatter, nor the return of the click of your heels, when you neared the door standing ajar.

You began to smell a sweet scent as Joshua stopped in the doorway to the room. Thus, you nearly concentrated more on the smell than the way the room fell quiet. Lucky for you, you'd already encountered the aroma. Otherwise, you would've been bothered by not being able to place it.

It wasn't the aroma of a women's perfume nor food. You knew what it was. The godfathers always offered you one of the rolled tobacco's when visiting. And, the moment your dark-haired bodyguard stepped to the side to let you step over the threshold of the room, you immediately found a golden casket, opened and displaying the finest of cigars, standing on the edge of the table inside. However, your eyes didn't linger there for long. Instead, they trailed to the man you were about to meet, who was one of many already watching you, yet the sole one sitting down and smoking a cigar.

Steven Grant Rogers.

You almost slipped and showed how taken aback you were, not because of the dominating aura exuding from the man in the leather armchair, such things you were plenty used to. But no, it was as of a fact his looks.

He was young, much younger than you'd thought. If to decide by his appearance, Steven must've been born close after his father's death. You would never have guessed when knowing of the age his father passed and concerning how he operated his empire and the rivalry against you. From this, the man definitely fitted the older generation. But no, it seemed he apparently didn't belong there.

"Nice to finally have a face for the man that's been testing my patience lately", you broke the silence that had covered the room like a lid. Though you awaited the same reaction you would've had to such a comment - which would've been nothing more than a smile regarding how you couldn't bother to display any prominent reply - Steven did the complete opposite.

He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble of amusement. You almost wondered if his voice would be equally as low or if it all was a consequence of smoking the cigar he for the moment held limply between his finger. Apparently, you would get an answer to that quicker than you imagined. And the answer was his voice was like that of molasses, deep and rich.

"I took the liberty to prepare a drink for you", the Canine boss motioned, with a nod, towards the identical leather armchair on the opposite side of the table and the small stand beside it. You spotted the same crystal glass you had at home resting upon it, with a deep amber liquid in it. Whiskey. "Would you have preferred on the rocks?"

Your eyes tracked back to Steven, who currently reached for his own glass. Which similar to yours stood on the small table beside his seat. He made the small move without averting his gaze from you.

"I actually prefer it neat", he cocked his head as you said this.

His hair was not cut short or trimmed neatly like all those men before him. Instead, it reached the nape of his neck. No pomade or other product kept it out of his face. It simply looked like he'd ran his hands through it once and for some magical reason, it had stayed like that without looking greasy. But it was because he seemingly hadn't put any product in that one of the strands, shifting from brown to dark blonde, had fallen slightly out of order when he'd moved his head. Nevertheless, seeing as it had done nothing but come to rest against his cheekbone, Steven paid it no attention.

"What suggests it's neat?" This time, you cocked your head.

"I simply presumed you didn't take yours any other way", as you stated this, a smile began to ghost the man's lip.

"Be my guest, then", Steven replied, raising a hand to gesture towards the empty armchair opposite him.

You simply smiled at the invitation, walking forwards with back straight and head held high, no matter you were the sole one making a sound in the room and all the eyes were on you. Even as you sat down in the leather chair, you didn't wince at how the material groaned when finally being forced to change its state of unoccupied.

To be sitting opposite the man that you for days had prepared to meet was totally different than what you'd expected. Not only because you awaited an older, a much older heir of the Canine Empire, also because the man now watching you with blue eyes that pierced your stare back evoked a challenge.

You understood why Shuri thought this would be interesting now, even though you still found this whole matter nothing but bothersome. Steven could possibly be the sole person to actually put up a hurdle for you.

"What do you say, should we let our fellow companions leave so we can start?" Even though the man had stated it as a question, he waved his fingers directly afterwards, dismissing his guards as if it had been a command for you to follow. And therefore, you simply leaned further into the back of the leather seat, one leg hooking over the other. Making your heeled shoe relaxed in the air.

You would not follow his command that easy.

"Not that clever to send out your guards before the opposing part agrees", you regarded how your words made one of Steven's bodyguards stop on the threshold out of the room. The brunette with shoulder-length hair didn't stay there for long, though, concerning how his boss's minimal nod served as enough of command to continue out.

"Concerning this is a parley, I doubt you would dare kill me", there was a mockery in his voice that you disliked, despite your reasoning earlier had been the same.

"Doubt it", his eyes narrowed when you said this. Moreover, he also deposited both his glass of whiskey and his cigar in its hold. The smoke from the rolled tobacco whirled up in a thin line from the table. Instead, then a cloud from his lips as previously.

"I know you don't like to get your hands dirty", Steven said, the hand which had rested on the armrest coming to stroke his bearded jaw. Despite the facial hair, you knew there laid a sharp edge underneath it, separating his throat and face. Hence, his beard followed that line with an undeceiving definition. "So why do I own the pleasure?"

"I never said I would be the one pulling the trigger", even if I dreamt to, you thought to yourself as you looked back at Joshua. Ever the guard he was, his eyes only momentarily shifted from the mob boss facing you to meet your glance before he vigilantly went back to observing Steven. You looked back at the Canine whose eyes seemingly had trailed to watch your bodyguard the same instance you had but by now snapped back to you. "And not even you, as the parasite that you are, deserves a bullet coming from my gun".

Instantly you saw the tick enter Steven's jaw when he clenched it. You very well knew that your choice of word for him would push his buttons. Like every last godfather, he was a prideful man. And like you'd played them like strings ever since reaching the top, so you would do to the man in front of you. That was why you raised your hand from tapping on the armrest of your seat.

You heard the move Joshua did at your action, even hinted at it in your peripheral. Although, instead of concentrating on the gun that he'd unholstered and pointed Steven's way, your eyes stayed on the later mentioned man.

Presumably, the mob boss was staring down the barrel of the gun. But there was no frown etched upon his forehead, displaying a worry. Nor were there any tenseness in his body as he languidly sank further back in the armchair, legs splayed wide and arms resting on top of the armrest.

Steven slowly turned then, from watching the gun aimed at him, to meet your gaze.

"Do it. You'll just get all my allies over you".

"Let them come. I'll win. After all, you requested this meeting when you knew you were about to lose", another jab at Steven's pride, one he took personally this time, you saw it by the glint entering his eyes. But, rather than putting him out of his misery and ridding yourself of a thorn in your side. You dropped your hand completely rather than flick your index and long finger down, which was the signal to shoot.

"But, seeing as I'm already humble enough to give you the chance to meet me rather than grinding you to dust, I'll continue on that track for the moment", you hummed while you heard Joshua sheath his gun again.

"How grateful I am", the stinge of terseness was evident in Steven's voice as he spoke, but you paid it no mind, just gave him the slight raise of your eyebrows as if to convey a silent 'as you should'. "And now the guard, so we can start".

You'd gotten your point across to him. Therefore, you didn't hesitate to order Joshua to wait outside during the negotiation this time.

"Are you...", you didn't let the brunette finish his sentence before you shot him a look, which was enough for Joshua to understand you were indeed sure. You followed the back of your trusted guard, who trailed the same path as Steven's had a few minutes prior. And not until he disappeared and instead gave the view of a now-closed door did you redirect your eyes back to the Canine boss.

For some reason, it felt like it got lighter in the room, not simply as in the heavy silence of multiple added presences. More so that the lamps, not the same as the neon ones outside, shone brighter. Perhaps, it was because only you and Steven were left, giving it a vaster opportunity to spread.

It made you remark and notice even further details about the mob boss. Not only did it lighten his eyes, but it also made the shifting of brown and dark blonde locks contrast considerably with what he wore.

You didn't talk about a slightly too large suit, which you often refrained from remarking how ill-fitted they were to the godfathers, seeing as they were the sole ones wearing them. No, Steven... you knew he'd chosen to wear what he did to make an impression. Why else was there any need for a three-piece suit, all in black on top of that? Maybe the same reason as you'd chosen your attire, power. He wanted to show he was the top dog. Only, he was forgetting that if he were no bear, the felines were amongst the apex predators, no canine in sight.

For the passing moments, neither of you said anything, simply sat there watching each other. Observing each other.

He was a man fit for the role of a mob boss. Thus Steven had that aura one simply possessed or not. He evokes the need to be respected, to be feared. Therefore, you guessed leading came naturally for him. And that his physics -which you discerned to be great, by the how he almost dwarfed the armchair he sat in- only was a measurement to further establish his status as alpha.

In other words, he was the one who your eyes would draw to first when stepping into a room and also the last when bidding goodbye.

"Are you impatient?" Your jaws clenched when the canine boss broke the silence saying this. As well did your nails, which had been rapping against the leathered armrest, stop when he tipped his head in such way he told you he noticed the movement.

"I am not you, Steven", you retorted, which simply made the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. You raised a brow at his reaction. The amount of amusement and overall cockiness he returned your comments with steadily made you, despite what you said, rather impatient to get this over with. Yet, it seemed Steven had no hurry whatsoever now when you were waiting for him to begin.

He looked away from you, the smirk tugging in the corner of his lips remaining there as he reached for the whiskey glass he previously had put down. Your gaze, however, didn't stray from the man opposite you. Consequently, making your eyes trail his profile while he took a sip of the alcohol, savouring the taste by the looks of it.

When he lowered the glass, swirling its contents gently, his gaze found yours. He didn't remark how your eyes never ventured from him and around the room to inspect it further, not really that it was much to see.

"Call me Steve", he said, which made your eyebrows lift. Either he offered you a nickname, or it was just what most called him. Still, both were unusual seeing the setting the two of you were in. "And to sate your wonder why I ain't starting this meeting, we'll begin as soon as one last member joins us", you felt a tenseness stiffen your body when Steven, Steve, so nonchalantly had told you this. You may have underestimated the canine boss somewhat. Because seemingly, he was blatantly good at reading people. Perhaps that was why you compelled your voice to sound even more indifferent than before when responding.

"Thought you said this was a private affair".

"Oh, it is, our entertainment won't hear a thing", not even before you could think that you feared the worst from his statement did the sound of a door opening catch your attention.

You noticed in your peripheral how this time it was your turn to be the single one averting your eyes, concerning how you felt Steve continued observing you when you looked away from him. Though you despised the equal amount of curiosity and caution that had made you look towards the entrance at the moment, it was done and you couldn't more than proceed to look at the person now entering the room.

It was not any sort of guard, concerning how the man entering wasn't of the same build as either Joshua, or any of Steve's men. On top of that, he seemed incredibly timid, not only by how silently he tried closing the door behind him but also by the hurried steps he approached the end of your table with.

"Mr Rogers", the man nodded at the mob boss when close enough. "Miss Y/L/N", he quickly repeated the greeting your way while completely stopping at the end of the table. "I'll just prepare the set-up for you and..."

"Good", Steve answered before the man finished, effectively cutting him off. You felt the side of your nose twitch by the dark blonde man's blunt way of stopping the club worker from talking. Steve certainly lived up to his reputation of doing as he pleased with no regard for others.

You probably would've huffed if you didn't already know the Canine boss would understand why. And, to be honest, you tried reducing the number of remarks leaving him, concerning how the meeting hadn't even started and you were fed up with his persona already.

So, instead of commenting on Steve's attitude, you watched the man who had entered the room put up a metal case on the table.

You hadn't noticed it earlier, even though the crate, made of aluminium, was quite eye-catching. But now, when you had, you knew before it was opened and revealed rows and rows of tokens as well as a set of cards that it had been a poker set.

This time, you couldn't help but cock an eyebrow, unimpressed by Steve's attempt of entertainment. Maybe you were more old school than you thought, seeing how the Canine boss kept surprising you with his way of handling a conference.

"Poker?" You questioned out loud when swiftly glancing up at Steve, who, while you looked away, had reached for his cigar, puffing on it slightly.

"Hope you know how to play", he said amusedly, blowing out the lungful of smoke he inhaled right before answering you. It travelled across the table but evaporated before reaching you, albeit the sweet scent still did.

You refrained from answering him. Simply settled on switching which leg crossed which, while grasping the whiskey glass.

The russet liquid was almost soothing in its taste, despite the burning sensation in the back of your throat after swallowing it. It was sweet at the same time that it was spicy, giving your tastebuds the imagination that caramel and cinnamon dwelled on them. You relished in the taste while following the man setting up the oncoming poker game.

He'd placed the dealer chip before himself and was currently shuffling the cards. It was clear it was his profession by how smoothly he did it.

Hence, not until he seemed satisfied did he put them down beside the box and redirected his eyes to flicker between you and Steve.

"How many chips do you desire?" The dealers gaze had locked with yours as he asked the question, yet before you could answer him, you were cut off short.

"We'll take ten thousand worth of chips each", you glanced at Steve as he said this.

"Deciding to become a gentleman all of a sudden?" You remarked while the dealer started to stack the number of tokens the man opposite you had requested. A tug tilted the dark-blonde mob boss mouth upwards into a smirk.

"I'm always a gentleman".

"A gentleman would've offered a higher amount", his smile dropped. "This was a forced act of charity".

"This is nothing more than entertainment to pass our time during our meeting", he got defensive. You heard it by how sharply he worded the sentence.

"Who said passing time should be done cheaply?" It was clear you didn't want Steve to answer, by how you neglected him of any further attention by looking elsewhere.

While your and Steve's short conversation had taken place, you'd missed how efficiently the dark-haired man had dealt out not only each of your chips but also your individual pair of cars. Even the aluminium case was off the table.

"Are you ready to begin?" You only met the dealer's eyes momentarily before looking at Steve.

"If the gentleman is, so am I".

"You heard the lady", as much mockery that you'd accentuated the title aimed at him, as much did he put on the one he returned to you. You didn't take ill, simply peeked at your cards, a two and eight, both spades, before starting the first round of betting by chucking two hundred worth of chips into the pot.

The dealer nodded, understanding the first game had begun. Thus, looking expectantly at the Canine boss for his move. Steve looked at his cards before calling as well. Meaning the dealer could show the first three cards you would play after.

The flop was turned up quickly despite the awkward placing the man had at the end of the table. Seven of hearts, two of clubs and eight of spades was the first batch of cards. So far, you only sat on a pair of eights. Not great.

"So, Steve, tell me now when our entertainment has started, why have I bothered to come here?" You shortly diverted your eyes from the game to grab your glass of whiskey. Once you looked upon the table again, the fourth street card was presented, queen of diamonds. You called.

"I'm here to offer you a deal", as expected, you thought to yourself and withstood the urge to roll your eyes, not solely because of what he'd said but also that he raised the bet. He was sure he would win.

"Speak up then", you spoke after sipping your drink.

You knew the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth wasn't from what one could read as impatience from you -which it wasn't, just a command- but rather that the last card turned for this round much have matched what he desired. And the card had been the queen of spades. Thus, instead of following his raised bet with a call or even a further raise, you checked. Steve called.

When the dealer confirmed the round was over and it was time for showdown, you and the mob boss opposite you both flipped your cards visible for the other. As you guessed, he'd won and it was on queens, three of a kind.

While the dealer pushed the pot of this game towards Steve and quickly went on with collecting the cards and reshuffling them, the Canine finally looked at you.

"Concerning how you ventured into my territory the last few months, I want you to pull back all your dealings with everyone on my side of New York, no matter how big or small", you cocked a brow at Steve's demand.

"You were the one overstepping the border to my area first. I only answered", you reminded the mob boss while the next poker-round began. You had better cards this time, a jack and a nine.

"And that's my deal, sweetheart", he began once he'd followed your call and once more, the flop was turned. You didn't even pay attention to the cards, as your eyes snapped up to him and nose scrunched at the nickname he used for you. "If you don't pull back your advances in Brooklyn, I'll continue painting your streets red".

It was how brazenly he stated that he wouldn't stop the killing that made your jaws clench. If this hadn't been a conversation eye to eye, preferably over the phone where you could mute yourself if needed, you would've put down your whiskey glass a lot less gently. But now, only the awaited echo of crystalline glass settling on the marble side-table sounded.

"So you want me to pull back my offence? Solely for you to stop the killing? Not pull back your forces from Manhattan, just stop picking off my allies?" You questioned him, instinctively checking to not bother with the game.

"You heard it", was all Steve said as he followed your act of checking, consequently making the last card become turned without any further bet placed than the initial one.

You continued observing the dark-blonde man. His eyes, albeit the light blue could trick you, conveyed no humour. So he was serious.

You didn't know if that made things better or simply made you lose all and any hope in a man that tried running an empire this way. You'd expected a poor deal to come from him. But this, this wasn't just bad. It was ridiculous.

You definitely hadn't been playing to win this round. Which, when you absentmindedly called before the showdown, became apparent. You got two pair on your jack and nine. Commonly, you would've bet a little more on that. Although seeing how Steve got four of a kind with his ten's, whatever you didn't do wouldn't have mattered. Your hand wasn't enough to win.

"Do you think that's how you run an empire?" You broke the silence quite harshly. At least it was enough for the man distributing the pot and collecting the cards to jerk slightly. But you didn't care about him. Closer to the truth was that you all but ignored his shuffling in your peripheral. What you concentrated on was the rise of Steve's eyebrow at your remark.

"It works, doesn't it. Or do you have any pointers on how you think I should run it, sweetheart?" The dog had really crawled under your skin, as Shuri had said.

"You shouldn't run it as your father", you wanted to snap at him. Instead, you levelled your voice, forced it to not turn shrill with agitation. And it struck a nerve, not his pride but a nerve. It was clear by how Steve remained leaned forward after having inspected his new set of cards. "Your visionary is old-school. To remain in control and run an empire, you need to be able to read the future. At the moment, all you have is just a dirty business".

"Dirty? You ain't really the cleanest angel in this world when picking of my men", you definitely had struck a nerve, seeing how his voice had become thicker but more powerful.

However, despite Steve's try to show his authority, you waved of his clap-back dismissively while leaning forwards and not more than tipping the edge of your own cards to see the suit and symbol. A queen and an Ace, both decorated with the sigil of a spade. You withheld showing the amusement towards both the Canine boss and his outburst and the feeling of finally having a game that would be yours to win.

"I've never said I was. But, even those killing on my order is smooth and precise. No tracks. Which is quite contrasting to your manslaughter", thanks to Steve already resting his forearms on his knees, the mob boss swift move of following your raised bet even before the first three cards was presented went fast.

You couldn't help but glance up at him for a short second before looking down again to the new card the dealer turned. A smirk now threateningly close to spreading. Because what you'd seen was a pair of blue eyes growing darker than any brown eyes ever been. And those eyes were set on you rather than the first poker game you had any genuine interest in.

"You've got your point across. You ain't ready to put a bullet between someone's eyes to clear a hurdle..."

"Clearly, I haven't gotten my point across if you misunderstood it", you cut Steve off halfway through his sentence, one you knew would've ended in a demand for a yes or no answer on the deal he oh so kindly offered.

Before looking up at him, you made your move in the poker game, a call. Steve, who still had his eyes trained on you, chucked a random amount of chips into the pot, resulting in not only a three doubled raise than what the original call had been but also for the round to continue to the last card.

"What I meant, Steve, is that I'm ready to fight for what I've created. Though, compared to you, I know people are resources, not constant hurdles", you said, eyes tracking down to the last card now resting upon the table. "Together with this, the cogs upholding your empire are getting rusty and soon won't be able to be changed at all because the model is too old. You invest in nightclubs and any other category of clubs where one can drink themselves stupid, along with other businesses that even I, who run a syndicate, frown upon. It ain't sustainable, so why would I ever seal a deal with you, knowing your empire will crumble in a few years? Give me one good reason".

You didn't need to look up and away from the table to see how the Canine boss fisted his hands, that you saw anyways.

"You've just pointed out why you should seal the deal while you can", this, however, made your gaze turn upwards to meet his. "You may be ready to fight, but how dirty? I invest in things that make money. I pave my own way instead of hesitantly following an already existing one. I'll be the one surviving because if something ever malfunctions in my empire, I won't be put in a situation unfamiliar to me, unlike you. If your perfectly built skyscraper suddenly gets hits by an earthquake, it ain't built to withstand it".

"As I said, give me one good reason and I'll even entertain the thought of considering your deal", you let yourself remain unfazed by Steve's previous threat. Because even though he hit his head on some points, what he'd said wasn't reason, just intimidation.

"It's the best decision for your little empire, sweetheart". The condescending manner he said it this in made you, even though your blood steadily began to boil by the audacity of yet another wealthy and power-hungry mob boss to speak down to you, simply glance down at the two cards laying face down before you.

There was no need to look at them once more. You wouldn't forget a queen of spades and ace of spades existed there. You would especially not forget it when ten of spades, jack of spades and the king of spades rested among the five upturned community cards.

"If you're brave enough to call me sweetheart, are you brave enough to go all-in?" You pushed all your chips into the pot as you said this. When looking up at Steve after that, the first thing you were met by was the cocky look on his face. It was all created by that quirk of his brow, the proud look in his eyes telling you how wrong your decision had been. And that he, without hesitation, mimicked your move.

However, you knew the Canine boss lost all the money he'd put into the game the moment he did. When he put his hand down, showing the straight flush of hearts, numbered from king to nine, it was simply a fact.

"Show me your cards, sweetheart", you only tipped your head, flipping your cards to lay flat on the table, open for the man opposite you to see.

There was no need for you to watch your royal flush. Thus, you simply watched the change on Steve's face. His smirk shifted into a thin line. His arrogant appearance trickled away in a ripple, initiated from the twitch by the side of his nose. Your victory didn't only irk him. He loathed it.

"You're rash and impatient and forgets to think when your temper takes over. You see, Steve, that's why you may win the first few matches, but not the league. So, should I really listen to you speaking about what's best for me when you can't even win a little game of poker?" You caught how his eyes snapped up to glare at you but paid it no mind as you turned towards the dealer.

"Could you collect the chips and transfer them to cash?" You asked the dark-haired men, who, with a swift nod, answered your question.

"What's your name?" The man glanced at Steve, obviously noting that the one who'd hired him for the evening wasn't in the best mood.

You had heard the rumour of Steve being a charmer, which settled deals easy most of the time. However, you also heard that the Canine boss was quick, if not quicker, to take out the gun if his charm didn't do the job. Regarding how cautious this man was, whatever the dark-blonde man still glaring daggers at you had done to rent either his service or this whole club hadn't contained faith, simply fear.

That was why you didn't push any further for a name.

"Very well, keep the money as a tip", the dealer swiftly snapped his head to look at you, eyes wide.

"B-but..."

"I have no use for it and seeing as you did a good job, you earned it", your voice, albeit softer and not as foul as when directed at Steve, didn't leave any room for discussion. This the dark-haired man also understood, as he gave you a small smile as thanks and hastily collected the tokens.

Within a minute, the former dealer had arranged all the chips that he would trade for the hefty amount they were worth, along with the rest of the poker material he'd had with him. And once done, he only left with an appreciative nod towards you, rather than both you and Steve as he'd done when first entering.

It was in the echo of the door shutting that you finally looked at Steve again. His eyes were heated, but you couldn't but smile at him instead of answering with a similar scowl.

"Steven, like this poker game shown, not only was my hand valued higher than yours but so is my empire. I do not hear any bargain coming from you about how you should've won this game or how we should meet in a middle that favoured you more than me, despite that your hand was a straight flush while mine was a royal flush. So, why are you doing it with my empire?" You uncrossed your legs, leaning forward similarly as he had done for the past minutes. "Rules are rules, are they not? And if we follow the rules of poker, that means the highest rank of hands is set to win. Therefore, I'm the one who should go winning out of this deal you try to settle with me too", he was grinding his jaws and you guessed his mind was grinding equally as hard.

"You seem to forget that luck is a big part of the game". Steve's voice was more a gruff sound than anything else.

"Oh, but I haven't", you hummed, leaning backwards until your back leaned into the spine of your leathered stool.

Reaching for your whiskey glass, you simply held it for a minute, an index finger tapping against the side, while letting your eyes glide over the Canine boss.

"You see, your success is all about luck. You're an only child, your father's golden boy. Of course, you get to inherit the empire he established before you because he believes you'll be able to rule it with the same grace as he. Why you took so long to step into the role, though, is a mystery. But I didn't mind, seeing as you left room for more suitable individuals to take The Canines former position", he leaned backwards again when you said this and you knew it was a reaction connected solely to your words. Once again, you'd struck a weak spot because he remained silent as his features became pinched and hands gripped the armrests.

"Compared to you, though, my route has been tough, self-learnt and mastered. Upon that, I have a cover, I got money from working and through business choices those sums only raised. You may be the luck of the game, but I am the one with the skill".

"Only because the rest of the world thinks your fortune is a lucky investment, everyone in this world knows the truth, no matter how much you try to hide it. Your money is as dirty as mine", the octave Steve's voice had dropped into to display whatever threat or resentment he held for you at the moment, made you chuckle rather than shy away from him.

"But I try to wipe the dirt off of them at least".

"What? With your charity galas to raise money for those who need it? It's the biggest joke I ever heard".

It was always amusing to hear someone resent your charity galas because you believed anyone could and would hold them if they simply wanted to. But to take up a gun, shoot someone and then hide was more manageable than to execute a double-sided play.

"It may be a joke to you, Rogers, but I keep my facade up to ensure my and my empires survival. You have already crumbled by not caring how much blood that drips in the wake of your name", you stated. When continuing, you cocked your head to the side as if you spoke to a child. "So you know what, the best thing you can do for your empire is to sign my deal", while you'd talked, you also reached for the folder containing the contract. And, it was with a blasé edge you threw it before him on the table.

"If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way", you took a last sip of th whiskey before putting it down on the table separating you rather then the side table it was meant to stand on. "Great doing business with you, Steven".

You didn't wait for a reply nor refusal before you rose from the leather armchair with your handbag in your grasp. Walking towards the door and the impending sound of the clubs blaring music, you left the mob boss that had dared to challenge you behind.

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[janeykath318]

Once Upon A Time (WinterShock Fantasy AU)

Once upon a time there lived a happy, mischievous Princess named Darcy. Sadly orphaned at a young age, she was surrounded by loving caregivers, who taught her how to be a good, but kind ruler. 

When Princess Darcy was just twelve years old, the regent Lord Phillip noticed she showed signs of being gifted with magic, a rare ability in that land. 

After some consultation with Darcy’s other guardians, he decided she should learn how to use her gift and Darcy started magic classes. By the time she was sixteen, she had learned many useful spells and was becoming better at controlling her magic. 

In history class, she learned of the great wars between the evil practitioners of black magic known as Hydra and the wizards and knights of the kingdom. 

Hydra had been defeated, but at the cost of many lives, including those of the stouthearted Sir Steven Rogers and Sir James Barnes, whose great deeds lived on in story and song. Darcy passed by their portraits in the great hall and wished she could have known those great men. Sir James she found especially appealing with his mirth filled grey-blue eyes, well-shaped face and dark brown hair.

As her twenty-first birthday approached and she readied to take up the mantle of queen, many suitors sought her hand. Most of them didn’t make it past Lord Phillip, who carefully questioned them to gauge their character and intentions, and the few who did did not arouse Darcy’s interest. 

Then came the shocking revelation that Sir Steven had been found alive, having been encased in an enchanted block of ice for seventy years. He was brought to the castle and tended to by physicians and healers before Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas questioned him. Finally, they were finished and allowed Darcy to have an audience with him. 

Excited to meet one of the heroic men of history, she perked up when Lord Phillip brought him into her reception room. 

He was tall, with a powerful physique, golden hair, and melancholy blue eyes. 

“Sir Steven!” She greeted, as he bowed before. 

“Your highness,” he replied politely. 

“We are glad to find you alive against all odds. How do you feel after your awakening?”

“Physically well, but I struggle to reconcile with the passage of time, your highness,” he answered with surprising honesty. Nearly all of my contemporaries are dead or nearly dead and I as yet do not know how to restart my life.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Darcy said gently, heart aching for the man who’d given up everything for the kingdom. “But just know that if you need a friendly ear to talk to, I am happy to lend mine. Anything you need, just say the word and Phillip will see to it.” 

Over the next few months, Steven and Darcy made friends and he told her many stories of his adventures with Sir James, or Bucky, as Steven called him. 

Unfortunately, with six months to go before Darcy’s coronation as queen, Hydra began to make its presence known again with the reappearance of their legendary assassin, The Winter Soldier, who felled several wizards and was rumored to be sent after the princess herself. Alarmed, Phillip increased the number of Darcy’s bodyguards and brought in the renowned Lady Natasha for extra security and help planning against Hydra’s threats. 

Much as she liked Steven, Darcy chafed at having him everywhere. Her complaints fell on deaf ears, however. Lord Nicholas and Lord Phillip were on high alert and stood firm. 

One day, Darcy and Steven walked through the great hall together and he shared anecdotes of several of the royals depicted on its walls. When they reached Sir James’s portrait, Steven fell silent for several moments, grief so raw in his face that Darcy turned away out of respect.

“It must still seem fresh to you,” she said quietly. “I am sorry for your loss, Steven.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” he sighed. “Yes, to me it seems like it only happened a few days ago. We were ambushed on a treacherous mountain pass. I tried my hardest to reach him, but he lost his hold and…….fell.” 

He swallowed hard, struggling with the memory.

“I know he would have liked you,” he told the Princess. “Bucky appreciated your type of humor and wit. He also was fascinated with magic, albeit only mildly had a very small ability in that area.”

“Sir James had magic?” Darcy asked, even more intrigued.

“He did,” Steve confirmed with a faint smile. “Mostly used it to annoy me: make my armor turn weird colors, grow out my beard to an unnatural length, give my horse a purple tail.” 

Darcy chuckled. “What a rascal. Did I tell you how I gave Phillip a toupee once?”

Steve looked at her in amused disbelief. 

“No, but I must know now.”

For several weeks, the period of watchfulness continued, but nothing happened and Darcy began to hope that the danger wasn’t coming after all, then one night she was awakened abruptly by Natasha.

“Get up your highness. Your life is in danger.” 

“Wha-huh?” Darcy replied sleepily, brain struggling to come to. A pile of clothing was thrown onto her bed.

“Hydra. They nearly killed Lord Nicholas in a late raid. Put on the disguise and pack one bag. We need to get you out of here. Steven is waiting with the horses.”

Numbly, Darcy dressed in the plain gown and dark cloak Natasha had provided and quickly packed a few belongings, hoping desperately her friends were safe. 

Natasha led her out through the secret underground exit that led out behind the stables where Steven was waiting, armored and well armed. 

“What happened?” Darcy whispered as she mounted the horse behind Natasha. He was a good rider herself, but in the dark and under threat, she was more than happy to have the expert take the reins. 

“The Winter Soldier attacked,” Steve said grimly. “I fended him off, but he will likely be back. We are headed for the stronghold of Lord Anthony deep in the mountains. It’s the safest place for you right now.”

The journey was long and hard, taking almost the whole night. They were only a few miles away, when they were overtaken by a black knight on a black horse, covered head to toe in armor, the only mark on him a red star on his silver left arm. 

Steve muttered an oath.

“The Winter Soldier!” He muttered. “Get down!”

Darcy obeyed. She heard the sounds of swords clashing as Steve fought the intruder, then there was a ping! Sound and metal hit the ground and Steve cried out “Bucky!” In an anguished tone followed by a deeper voice saying “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

Now it was Natasha’s turn to swear, but she stuck close to Darcy. Peering up a bit, she could see the tall knight, his helmet now gone, revealing dark brown hair and finely shaped jaw. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Sir James! He looked completely cold and menacing, but there was something so dead in his eyes, she knew there was something wildly amiss. 

Reaching out with her magic, she sensed the thick cloak of dark magic upon him and guessed Hydra had him under some spell. 

“What do you want?” She heard Steve ask.

“My mission is the Princess. Hand her over. They want her alive.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve growled. 

“Very well.” 

The swords clashed again and the struggle began again. This time, she could tell it was going badly for Steve. 

Darcy couldn’t stand it anymore. She stood up, brushing off Natasha’s restraining arm and walked over to the scene of the fight. Steve was now bleeding on the ground, still trying to get Bucky to remember him. James had his sword at Steve’s throat and was ready to plunge it in when Steve murmured, “I’m with you to the end of the line.”

This made The Soldier pause and the cold expression in his eyes was replaced with a flash of recognition followed by pure panic. 

Darcy stepped forward.

“Don’t kill him! I’ll surrender.”

James whirled around to face her, confusion written all over his face. 

“What are you doing, your highness?” She heard Steve hiss out, but Darcy had a plan and she needed to get closer. 

“You surrender?” James repeated dully.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Do what you have to do.”

He stalked towards her with his knife drawn, and Darcy stood stock still, waiting for the right moment. She knew a spell she was pretty sure would work, but it would likely leave her exhausted. At this point, exhausted was preferable to dead and she had to try to help James. 

Summoning every ounce of magical strength she could, she cried out, “Restore!” and held out her hands.

Bolts of magical energy sparked from her fingertips and connected with James, wrapping around his head. The energy warred with the darkness and caused it to dissipate and vanish. 

James fell over unconscious.

“What did you do?” Steve asked, having dragged himself painfully over to his friend.

“A restoration spell. Hydra was controlling his mind. I cancelled it out,” Darcy sighed, suddenly exhausted. 

“Can we bring him to the stronghold? It might be some time before he wakes.”

Steve looked at his friend and nodded. 

“We will. I really hope you are right, your highness.”

Between the three of them, they managed to haul James to the gates of the stronghold. It took rather longer to convince Lord Anthony to let him in, but Darcy shamelessly pulled rank on the man and he finally relented. 

She was almost stumbling with exhaustion by the time they reached the keep and Natasha almost carried her off to the guest chamber provided.

“I want to be there when he wakes up!”’she protested.

“He may not wake up for some time,” Natasha answered. “Your spell is still working on him. Please rest, your highness. He won’t get away, I promise.”

So Darcy finally agreed and shortly fell into deep slumber. She awoke rather disoriented and very rumpled. 

“Ugh. I look like a hag, not a Princess!” She moaned, repulsed by her reflection in the mirror. She managed to get herself into a somewhat respectable state when Natasha came for her.

“Is he awake?” Darcy asked eagerly. 

“Yes. He awoke about an hour ago and seems to be himself again. He recognized Steve.”

“That is wonderful news! Please take me to him.”

Natasha obliged and showed Darcy into the room where a bandaged and rather battered looking Steve sat beside James. Darcy felt a pang of remorse for not trying a healing spell on him. 

Both men got to their feet as she entered, Steve rather shakily. 

“Bucky, this is her highness Princess Darcy. She is strong in good magic and wove the spell that freed you from Hydra. I trust you rested well, Your highness?”

“I did, but sit down, Steven, before you fall down. You need to see the healers.” 

“Just what I’ve been telling him….wait PRINCESS Darcy? You saved me?”

James’s voice was filled with awe and wonder as he looked at her, blue eyes now clear and sharp like in his portrait. Oh, heavens, he was incredibly handsome and for a moment she was speechless as they stared at each other. Finally, Bucky shook himself and knelt before her, bowing his head. 

“Where are my manners? Forgive me your highness. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. I am your devoted servant henceforth.” 

“Sir James, I am very happy to see you in your own mind. I am so relieved that it worked,” Darcy assured him, holding out her hand to show him she accepted his thanks. He kissed it, looking reverently into her eyes and Darcy felt her heart skip a beat. She could feel the unspoken connection between them. 

“You and Steven will be honored as heroes,” she declared. 

“Steven is well deserving,” James agreed, a shadow falling over his face. “I do not know that I am deserving to hold the title of knight anymore. The things I have done would sicken you.”

“You mean the things Hydra forced you to do?” Darcy responded. “Hydra’s deeds do sicken me, but the reason you became their captive in the first place was because you were fighting to end their reign of terror. You will not be held liable for something you had no control over.”

“You are very gracious, your highness,” James said gratefully. 

Darcy turned to Steven next and gently scolded him for not getting his wounds tended to before using a healing spell on him.

Lord Anthony came in to check on his guests and give them an update on the situation at the Castle.

“Hydra had infiltrated some of the guard and it has been difficult to weed them out,” he informed them. “Jasper Sitwell and Lord Alexander are both Hydra and have vowed to take over the kingdom. I am sending reinforcements as soon as I can.”

Anger stirred in Darcy. 

“The traitors! I will kick their posteriors!!” 

Steve looked startled at her uncouth language, but Anthony grinned and James’s mouth twitched in amusement. 

“I like the spirit, your highness, but it’s safer for you to remain here. My stronghold has magical defenses and right now, you are Hydra’s number one target. There is a large bounty on your head.”

Darcy turned pale and gripped a nearby table for support. 

She was almost shaking with rage and fear, but told herself to calm down. She had to be strong for her country. 

“I can’t just sit back here while you all risk your lives. You know I can defend myself with my magic,” she reminded them. 

“You can, but the ratio of Hydra to loyal soldiers is much too high and we cannot risk losing you,” Natasha reminded her. “You’re the last of your family line.”

Darcy deflated at this painful reminder. She knew Natasha was right and she couldn’t endanger the throne by rushing headlong into danger, but she hated the thought of waiting all by herself. 

In the end, James volunteered to stay with her as protection duty, being a most powerful warrior. She couldn’t help but be pleased at his company, despite the circumstances. 

Before Anthony and the army departed, she took care to lay helpful enchantments upon Steve’s sword and Shield and Natasha’s knives and the archers’ bows. 

Satisfied at last, she saw them off with well wishes and turned back to James, who walked beside her back to the luxurious library that she’d picked out as the room to hole up in. 

“Come sit by me, James,” she requested. “You can be vigilant in comfort.”

“Thank you, your highness,” he responded, carefully seating himself beside her. Up close, she could see how well built he was and how strong his arms were. She had to stifle a sudden urge to feel his biceps: both the flesh and the metal one. 

“Did Hydra equip you with the metal arm?” she asked. 

“They did,” James confirmed. “I lost my arm in the fall that led to my capture. They designed it to be another weapon. I shudder to think of how much blood it has spilled.” 

He clenched and unclenched his metal fist, sad blue eyes looking reproachfully at it. 

“Maybe we can get you a new one once we’ve stomped them out once and for all,” she suggested. “I know Stark would love to upstage them and make a better one. He is very gifted in that area.”

“You are very thoughtful, your highness,” he said, giving her another grateful look that brought a lump to her throat. The poor man was clearly not used to being treated like a human and it hurt her to think of. 

“Please call me Darcy,” she requested. “There’s no one else around and it gets old hearing “your highness” all the time.”

“Darcy,” he repeated, saying her name reverently. “What a lovely name.” 

The next few days were trying ones for the Princess as she waited for news from the battle. James told her many stories of his and Steve’s adventures and she told him about her childhood and her mishaps while learning magic.

James admitted one of the reasons he’d stayed behind was because he feared Hydra would speak the words to him that would trigger his Winter Soldier persona.

“You mean you didn’t stay because of my captivating beauty and charm?” Darcy said teasingly. 

“Now, I didn’t say that, Princess,” he said, flushing a bit. You are very pleasant to be around. I just thought you should be made aware there still might be traces of the spell in me.”

“We’ll have you examined by our best wizards,” Darcy promised, anxious to reassure him. “Their knowledge is greater than mine and they will be able to rid you of any lingering effects.”

“I hope so,” James murmured. “I really hope so.”

He looked at her for a long moment with an expression that made her heartbeat quicken before he sighed and looked sad again, as if longing for something out of his reach. 

She saw that expression several more times over the next few days and wished she could comfort him. 

Five days later, a messenger returned to the stronghold to bring news both good and bad. The good news was that the Hydra uprising had been crushed and its members dead or in custody. The bad news: the chaos had stirred up a legendary dragon, who was headed straight for the palace. 

James thought Darcy should stay at the stronghold, but she overruled him.

“I appreciate your consideration, but I must return and oversee the investigation. I need to talk to the wizards about you as well. I cannot hide any longer. I will go mad.”

He’d sighed and gone to bring the horses around. 

The journey back was done as stealthily as possible, and Darcy watched James with interest as he skillfully and silently guided them along the journey, always on high alert. She felt safer with him than any of her bodyguards, good as they were. This knight had had his senses honed to a razor sharpness that was unlike anything she’d seen. She wondered if part of it was due to his latent magic powers and if he’d ever used them. But magic was not a topic he seemed willing to discuss, other than the moment he’d thanked her for rescuing him from it. 

They returned to a palace that was very chaotic, evidence of fighting all around it and grim faced guards everywhere.

Darcy went straight to Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas who were in consultation with Lord Anthony, all three looking very somber. 

“I am relieved to see you safely returned, your highness,” said Lord Nicholas. “Thank you,” she told him. “I am also relieved to find you well. I heard you met up with the Winter Soldier.”

“I did and I broke the spell that held him a prisoner,” Darcy told them proudly. “Phillip, Nicholas, may I present Sir James Barnes? I assure you, he is no threat.”

The men looked shocked and wary, but Darcy made them talk to James and confirm that he was, indeed, an ally and in his right mind. 

“Where is Steven?” James asked nervously, looking around for his friend.

Phillip sighed. 

“He is in the infirmary. He suffered grievous injury fighting Hydra and had previous untreated injuries that led to his collapse.”

Darcy sighed and James groaned.

“Typical of the imbecile,” he muttered. “Never could take care of himself.” 

“What?” He said bluntly at the questioning looks the Lords were giving him.

“He just laid there and would have let me—the Soldier—kill him, if the Princess hadn’t intervened. The one time he decides to back down from a fight….” James sighed and shook his head.

“Yes, I have noticed that trend with him,” Lord Phillip admitted, almost smiling at James’s aggravation. “We enchanted the door of his room so that he cannot get out until the healers have finished with him.”

Darcy smiled her approval. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Phillip,” she said fondly. 

“Unfortunately, we will need him at his full strength sooner rather than later,” Lord Nicholas sighed. “The dragons are but a three days journey away.”

As soon as Steven was recovered, they began making plans for defending against the dragon horde, who were led by a large purple beast named Thanos. 

Thanos had obliterated many cities in neighboring realms with his terrible breath and destructive claws and he had fifty fearsome fellow dragons with him. It was going to be a very difficult fight. Darcy went around giving motivational speeches to the troops and leaders in between making sure the citizens were evacuated to the mountain strongholds. She stood on a balcony looking out over the city, hoping it wouldn’t be its last day of existence.

“The last of the refugees are about to depart for the mountains, your highness,” Steven reported, James standing beside him. “Are you certain we cannot persuade you to go with them?” 

“Very certain,” Darcy said firmly. “My place is here.” 

He nodded, then smiled. “I understand. I too, would chafe at being denied the chance to defend my country.”

James heaved a deep sigh. 

“There are two of them,” he muttered in a disgruntled tone that had Darcy and Steven chuckling. 

“You will get used to it, James,” Darcy said lightly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

The following day, Thanos and his dragon army arrived, blasting fire and roaring ferociously. The army was ready for them and put up a good fight, slaying quite a few, before they could get into the city. The tide soon turned against them, though, as Thanos’s power was unleashed and death and destruction rained down. Darcy was safely inside the tower and fretting about the increasingly grim reports coming in from the battlefield. 

“If we could just get Thanos, we would actually stand a chance!” She said, pacing in frustration. 

“Unfortunately, Thanos appears to be untouchable,” Nicholas reported, stress making his eyelid twitch rapidly. “He has a power far beyond anything we’ve faced before. Melts people before they get near him. Normal shields are ineffective.”

“What about magic?” She asked.

“The only spells that might work have to be within twenty paces,” Nicholas mused. “And all our wizards are either wounded, dead, or busy.” 

A plan began to take root in Darcy’s mind. It was crazy and might not even work, but at this point, what did she have left to lose?

“Phillip, would the enchantment on Steve’s shield stand up to Thanos’s breath?” She asked. 

“Yes, for a few minutes, but Steve does not have magic.”

“He doesn’t have to. I do,” she told them.

Phillip frowned. 

“What spell would they have taught you that would fell Thanos?”

Darcy smiled. 

They pleaded and argued and begged her not to, but Princess Darcy prevailed. 

“What kind of ruler will I be if I am not willing to give my life to protect my people?” She’d told them. 

Phillip had closed his eyes, but nodded, unable to dispute this. 

After giving a few quick orders, Darcy put on some armor and went out to face Thanos. It wasn’t hard to find him, bring huge and purple and all. He was even more fearsome up close, huge claws and fiery breath wreaking havoc upon the city and its people. Darcy swallowed. She had to stop him before he spilled any more blood. Searching for Steven, she found him finishing off a young red dragon. 

“Steven!”

He looked up, shocked to see her.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, panting heavily. 

“I think I know how to stop Thanos, but I need your help. Where’s James?”

“Over there,” Steve jerked his head to the left. “Do you need him, too?”

“Yes. For my plan to work we need all three of us.”

James was not pleased to see Darcy in battle and even less so when he heard her plan.

“Eight out of ten cases, that spell kills the caster, too! We can’t lose you, Princess. Surely, there’s some other way.” 

His blue eyes were desperate and pleading as he spoke, and Darcy’s own heart hurt a bit. She would have loved to agree and have the chance at deepening her friendship with him into something more, but if they all died due to a dragon, that wouldn’t happen anyway. She would hold out hope she could be in the two out of ten. 

Darcy smiled sadly. “The only other wizards that know this spell are incapacitated or dead. I’m so sorry, James. I have to protect my people.” 

For a brief moment, he looked as if she’d ripped out his heart and trampled it under foot, then the expressionless soldier’s mask returned and he simply nodded.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Steve will cover us with his shield so that I can get close enough to cast the spell, which will block his airway and allow James to stab him in his soft underbelly. Be quick about it so he doesn’t crash down on top of you,” she urged James. He didn’t look like he cared much about being crushed at this point, but he nodded. 

She shook both their hands, then took a deep breath. 

“Let’s go.”

Steve held up his magical shield over them as they approached Thanos. She could feel the intense heat around them, but the magic did its job and soon they were within range.

She held out her hands and began chanting, energy swirling through her as she summoned everything she had to hurl at the dragon. 

Thanos laughed evilly and blasted fire at them, which bounced off the shield. Knowing the protection would not last long and not wanting to get Steve and James killed, Darcy quickly spoke the rest of the spell, then flung the energy toward the dragon’s snout. It wrapped around and went down his nostrils, thickening up and causing him to sit up and choke and gasp for breath, clutching his nose.

James darted forward and the last thing Darcy heard as the life drained out of her was the terrible scream from Thanos as the knight’s sword plunged into him. 

She came back to consciousness in a plain white room, birds singing outside the window.

“Is this the afterlife or did I survive?” She wondered aloud. 

There was a gasp and James suddenly lifted his head from where he’d been resting it on the side of the bed.

“I assure you, you’re very much alive, Princess,” he told her, voice trembling with emotion. The usual very polished knight looked haggard and unkempt, eyes red and bloodshot. 

“I was one of the lucky two out of ten?” She asked, warmth spreading through her at how he was looking at her. 

“Not at first,” added another voice. Steven was beaming at her from the doorway, relief showing strongly in his amiable face. 

“What do you mean?” She asked curiously.

“When we finished off Thanos, I picked you up and there was no breath in you. No pulse. Nothing.” 

Steven looked pained at the memory and Darcy looked back at James, whose lips were quivering. 

“Bucky here insisted on carrying your…...body…...back to the palace,” Steve continued. “Somehow, you started breathing again on the way there. We really have no idea why. Maybe the healers can tell us.” 

“Wow,” Darcy breathed, a smile blossoming on her face. “So the dragon army was defeated?”

“Soundly,” Steven assured her. “The kingdom is saved. You’re a hero, Princess. They’re ready to crown you queen right now.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait,” Darcy said with feigned haughtiness. “I refuse to be crowned until I’m able to be fully fabulous again.”

Steve barked out a laugh and Bucky’s shoulders shook. Lifting his head, he looked at her through tear-filled eyes.

“Princess, you’re always fabulous,” he told her sincerely. 

A healer bustled in, interrupting the moment. Darcy was a little annoyed, but she let herself be examined with no fuss and took the opportunity to ask about why she had come back to life.

Healer Cho smiled. 

“We believe that the one who carried you in has the gift of Healing Touch, which in some cases, can revive a person. Sir James, you have some magic in you, right?” 

Bucky nodded, wide-eyed at the realization. 

“I couldn’t heal people before, and as the Winter Soldier, I was forced to use what magic I had solely for evil,” he said thoughtfully.  “I’ve never tried magic since.”

“Sometimes these gifts develop later, James. You may not have known it was there, but it was,” Helen told him gently. 

“As for you, your highness, a day or so of rest and you should be back on your feet again. Do you feel in need of food?”

Darcy nodded enthusiastically and Helen departed to get her a tray, looking very pleased. 

“Buck, You saved the Princess,” Steve commented proudly.

Bucky, who’d been staring at his hand in disbelief, looked into Darcy’s eyes as she grabbed the hand and kissed it.

“My hero!” she sighed, giving him a dopey smile that somehow tripped something in him to release the emotion he’d been trying to hold back. Steve thoughtfully shut the door and retreated to the corner again. Darcy kept holding James’s hand and whispered soothing words to him as he cried. The poor man had been through so much, and she was determined to help make his new life as happy as possible. 

“It killed me to see you lifeless,” he whispered, when he’d finally calmed. “I’ve become very attached to you in the short time I’ve known you. I know you probably wouldn’t want to be courted by a man like me, but if you did, well…..”

“Who says I wouldn’t want to court you?” Darcy retorted. “I would very much like to court you, James. “You’re brave, you’re selfless, you’re funny, you’re an awesome warrior, and you’re exceedingly handsome. Don’t think I haven’t been wanting to run my fingers through your glorious mane since the day we met.”

James blushed bright red. 

“However, no courting can happen if you don’t take care of yourself.”  She told him. “As your princess, I command you to eat, bathe, and sleep before you return. “You’re clearly exhausted. Steven will make sure this is carried out, won’t you, Sir Steven?” 

Darcy’s firm tone had Steven nodding quickly. 

“I will, your highness,” he declared, looking pointedly at James. “I attempted to previously, but he refused to leave your side, the stubborn mule.”

“You hypocrite,” James shot back, grinning at them both. “But I will happily follow your commands, Princess.”

Getting to his feet, he kissed her hand and gently released it.

“I will be back.” he promised. 

“You’d better!” she called after him. 

Falling back on the pillows, Darcy held the hand he’d kissed to her cheek, dreamily thinking about him kissing her on the lips. 

Five Months later

The coronation of Queen Darcy was a day of jubilation and partying, a national holiday having been decreed for the occasion. Throngs of people had arrived in the city to witness the grand event and the city, which had recovered  from the Hydra and the Dragon invasions, was decorated to within an inch of its life.

Darcy stood in the hall, dressed in a deep green formal gown and rich red robes, trying to calm her nerves. There were a lot of eyes on her today and she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself. 

Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas were busily going over the schedule with Lady Natasha and the royal guards and Darcy was going over her speech once again in her head. 

There was a clanking of metal, and she saw her favorite knights approaching, both looking impeccable and stunning. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” she greeted warmly. “You’re looking magnificent.” 

They bowed gracefully.

“Thank you, your highness. So are you,” Steve replied.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” James said, giving her a look that made her blush. He was quite the master at those looks, as she’d learned during their courtship. There had been quite a stir when it was announced that the soon to be Queen was betrothed to the former Winter Soldier, but happily, the critics were vastly outnumbered by the supporters, as he was now seen as a hero after saving her life. Darcy had been highly  lauded herself and was still being swamped with gifts from her grateful subjects. 

“How are you feeling, Darcy?” He asked quietly.

“Nervous, but excited,” she said. “I’m going to be the best queen I can be.”

“I know you will,” James agreed, with one of his becoming smiles. “Save me a dance at the ball later?”

“Silly man,” she chuckled fondly. “You should know by now all of my dances are for you.” 

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 8

“Yes, suffer more!” A girl hiding behind a pillar said, watching her evil plan coming into motion. Emiyo watched from the sidelines expectantly, curious.

Emiyo waited and waited, but still, nobody screamed or howled in pain. She scanned around the packed food court and saw people going about their usual daily lives, laughing and having fun. Everything seemed normal, making Emiyo furrow her brow in confusion.

“Yes! Their suffering is so perfect!” The girl said again, her fairy partner smirking in satisfaction. The girl was a tiny thing, standing shorter than most pre-teen-aged girls. Her hair was bright pink, cut into a quick bob.

“Am I missing something?” Emiyo intensified her search, but found nothing but an average day at the mall.

“I don’t see anyone dead or unconscious.” Nyx flew around, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “It must be so subtle it’s invisible!”

“What, come on!” An annoyed teenage boy with pimples said behind a counter at a burger place. “I just filled that!”

“Hey, what gives? Where’s the ketchup? I’m in a hurry!” A customer said. “My movie starts in ten minutes!”

The boy winced. “Sorry, sir. I’ll get some right away.”

“Victory!” The girl said, her fist pumping upwards.

“Victory in what, exactly?” Emiyo asked behind the girl, who yelped in surprise.

“Emiyo, uh, hi! You aren’t usually out in the field.” Himari said, wearing a nervous grin on her face.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you!” Liam, her partner, gave a reassuring smile.

“You never answered my question.”

“You know, magical girl stuff!” Himari said. “Causing all the suffering I can.”

Emiyo gestured to the calm food court, her patience thin. “What suffering?”

“Lots of it! We stole all that store’s condiments.” Liam replied. “Remember how annoyed that man was? He might miss the beginning of his movie! Now that employee needs to refill the condiment stand! What a bother, right?”

Himari gave an emphatic nod. “Right! And that worker got yelled at! No one likes that!”

Emiyo fought the urge to rub her temple, feeling a headache coming on. “This is your idea of suffering? Really?! Suffering is having your body crushed and living in never-ending agony. Suffering is losing everyone you’ve ever loved and having nothing to live for. Suffering is living in a nuclear wasteland!”

“That boy seemed pretty miserable to me,” Himari muttered under her breath.

Himari coughed, regaining her confidence. “I think you’re a little confused. I’m actually playing the long game!”

Despite herself, this piqued Emiyo’s interest. Perhaps she’d misjudged the girl?

“Yeah, nuclear wastelands are great and all, but it’s tacky and too easy.” Himari puffed out her chest. “I’m destroying worlds with a thousand cuts!”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. I’m causing countless small instances of suffering so they’ll build into something greater and more explosive. People will bottle up their frustration until they burst and cause untold havoc!”

Emiyo’s eye twitched. “This is your brilliant plan, really?”

“Totally evil, right?” The girl and her partner gave an emphatic nod.

In her head, Emiyo’s headache intensified. “No wonder the suffering levels in your universes have only increased by .00000000001 percent.”

“I’m playing the long game.”

“For two hundred years?!”

“The very long game.”

You incompetent little! Emiyo wanted to throttle the girl but kept professional calm. An outburst would be unseemly. “If this is the caliber of sector 8’s magical girls, no wonder the suffering levels haven’t increased much.”

Of sector 8’s magical girls, Himari is one of the few remaining who still lived. Emiyo had found the others dead, killed by the rebel. Why didn’t she save Emiyo the trouble and kill Himari too? It’d be so easy!

“Look, I’m currently assessing the entirety of Sector 8. When I get back, your universes’ suffering better increase by at least twenty percent!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just accelerate my plans somewhat.” Himari pulled out a small vial, smirking. “I plan to put this into the water supply!”

Hope sparked in Emiyo’s heart. Poisoning water was an excellent way to spread fear and panic!

“It makes the water taste funny. Not horrible, but still unpleasant.” Himari said. “It will force people to buy bottled water instead! What a needless expense, right?”

Emiyo put her face into her hands and screamed.

---

Takako howled in pain as her opponent tossed her onto the padded mat.

“Are you okay?” Seina asked, concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” She said, rubbing her bruised arm. Even without her magical girl powers, Seina hit like a truck. Takako returned to her feet, determined to go again. Her pride refused to leave until she’d scored several points against her rival.

“Darn it.” Takako cursed as her back struck the padded floor once again. “I’m much quicker than you. Yet, you keep beating me!” Somehow, the girl seemed more like a wall than a person, deflecting back everything Takako threw against her.

“That’s because you aren’t sticking with what I’ve been teaching you.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “You always go for the dirty move rather than the practical one.”

“But it’s totally predictable and lame!” Takako waved a dismissive hand. “Not my style at all.”

Seina smiled. “I suppose, but you always leave yourself wide open. You aren’t working on your defense enough.”

Takako turned away. “Whatever. My genius is too brilliant for you to understand.”

Seina sighed, but a slight smile appeared on her lips. “Okay, Maeko. Fine. Want to go again?”

“Always, best out five?”

Despite her best efforts, Seina still won most exchanges, moving with lighting precision. Yet, Takako didn’t mind it. Instead, it only pushed her to work harder. She hadn’t been this excited in decades. Usually, she found her magical girl duties dull, but she enjoyed the challenge Seina presented. The fighting made her feel alive. It’d be a shame when Seina inevitably died in days ahead, but Takako would enjoy her company until then. They chatted as they walked across town, enjoying the scenery. People were working hard to rebuild, invigorated with a new purpose after the vampire’s fall. Despite herself, their grit and determination impressed Takako.

“Is that the new school?” Aiko looked down towards the skeleton of a building from their vantage point.

Seina flinched. “Yes, Lotus High School.”

“No way! The Prime Minister named a school after you?” Aiko beamed with pride.

“Yeah,” Seina replied, with little enthusiasm. “They wanted to call it Kamiyama High School, but I vetoed that idea. And the statue.”

Aiko rolled her eyes. “Please, you deserve some recognition! You saved the world!”

“I guess.” Seina said, still unhappy. Uncle Kenji is adamant I should attend it once it’s finished. Isn’t that the worst, going to a school named after you?”

“Don’t worry, I'll be by your side if anyone bugs you about it.” Aiko puffed out her chest. “Never thought I’d ever attend high school. I’m so looking forward to it. Do you think it’ll be anything like those mangas Maeko likes?”

“I hope so,” Seina said. “Clubs, romance, lunch on the roof, meeting with friends every day. It sounds nice.”

Takako rolled her eyes. The dullest, most ordinary things always infatuated Aiko and Seina. What next? Wanting to attend cram school too? Even thinking about it gave Takako bad memories.

“How about you, Maeko?” Aiko said. “What are you looking forward to in high school?” The two girls looked at her expectantly.

Shows what you know. I’m too old to care about things like high school! She paused, realizing, despite being several hundred years old, she’d never attended high school. Soon, both Seina and Aiko would have a much higher education level than her. Takako had run away from home long before high school age. Not that she cared, of course. Takako was smart enough without it.

“Eh, seems boring if you ask me,” Takako said, not impressed..

“How can you say that after the vampires basically starved us of any education?” Seina said, irritated. “I had to learn basic reading and math in secret! Uncle Kenji had to risk his life to teach me how to add!”

Takako took a step back, surprised by the usually meek girl’s angry outburst. “Okay, okay. Sorry,”

“I’m sorry too.” Seina said.” I lost my temper. It just frustrates me what basic things the vampires denied us. We were just things to them, not even people!”

“I know what you mean,” Aiko said, nodding. “But the vampires can’t stop us now! Humanity can’t be stopped!”

“Right! Oh, I can’t wait for high school to start!” Seina said dreamily. “Mr. Kiyojiro’s tutoring is great, but I want to learn from a real teacher! Uh, no offense, Mr. Kiyojiro.”

“I’m not offended.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, finally joining the conversation. “Teaching from random textbooks is awkward.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not a great teacher.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Any chance to learn!” Seina replied, trying to reassure her bodyguard and tutor. “You’re doing an excellent job teaching me Japanese. It’s my favorite subject. And I’m not too shabby at English either.”

“Private tutor, you’re lucky. I just wish I could understand half of my lessons.” Aiko rolled her eyes. “Ms. Inouye still hasn’t created a coherent study plan yet.”

“Hey, the adults are working hard to teach you youngsters.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “A few kinks in the plan aren’t unexpected. You’ve already lost too many years. How can you become proper adults without the proper education?”

“No argument here.” Aiko said, and Seina nodded.

“Sure, but being a proper adult means getting a job and paying taxes and rent.” Takako said, piping in.

Mr. Kiyojiro coughed into his fist. “Well, yes. But, that’s part of growing up. You can’t stay a child forever.”

“Except, Seina will stay a child forever,” Takako said, pointing out the flaw in the bodyguard’s logic.

“Not in my heart. I can get a job anyway!” Seina said, retorting the point.

“You actually want a job?” Takako asked in disbelief. It sounded like such a needless bother. “You’re a magical girl! There’s nothing stopping you from doing whatever you want.”

“Yes, actually,” Seina replied, puffing out her chest. “I’ll still be an adult, even if I appear ten!”

Colten’s eyes lit in awe. “You’re so responsible, Seina!”

Takako snorted. “Stupid if you ask me.”

“Trust me, Maeko,” Seina said. “Being a magical girl isn’t as appealing as it sounds.”

“Whatever. Well, I better get going.” After all that hard training, Takako wanted to gorge herself on shaved ice and watch some anime.

“Later!” Seina and Aiko waved as she left.

“You’re too comfortable with those two,” Lilha said from an alleyway. “You’d almost think you’d become friends.”

“Friends? Not likely.” Takako was too evil and hardhearted for such nonsense.

“Good,” Lilha replied. “Come. There are matters we need to discuss. It won’t be long until we’re ready.”

“You’re acting already? I’ve barely learned anything. Mr. Kiyojirois still teaching us the basics!”

Lilha raised an eyebrow. “Are we meant to wait years while you play with Seina?”

“We are both immortal.” For someone who was ageless, Lilha certainly was impatient. “Is it that important for you to return to your nightmare world?”

“We are vampires. We rule.”

“Okay, but why ban schools? Why make children work 70-hour weeks?” Takako couldn’t resist asking these questions any further.

“The humans needed to know their place. My husband was always adamant about grinding them down as much as possible.”

“Why? Aren’t these policies more likely to cause humanity’s extinction?”

“It wouldn’t get that far. We’d keep them alive. They are our pets.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why?”

“You’re a magical girl. It’s your job to make people suffer.” Lilha gave her a pointed look, making Takako hesitate. It was true. Why was she caring about this?

“Well?”

“Have you lost your nerve? Don’t you hate Siena as deeply as I do? I’ve seen how she humiliates you. Are you happy always being her inferior?”

Takako stood straighter. “I’m the strongest. Always will be. We will kill Seina.”

“Good. I see no further use in having you train with Seina. You’ve learned enough. I fear you’re getting too cozy with her. It’s time we enact our plan.” Lilha shone with excitement. “By tomorrow, Seina Kamiyama will be dead!”

Takako nodded, realizing her doubts were foolish. This was what they’d agreed upon. She glanced back, watching Seina talking and laughing with her friends without a care in the world. It left a strange bitterness in Takako’s heart. But no, for the sake of the magical girls and Starlight Dream, Seina’s death was necessary. After giving the girl a final look, Takako focused on the task at hand. No more useless doubts or distractions.

---

“A day out? Sounds great!” Seina said. Mr. Kiyojiro had given them the day off, and they were debating how to best spend it.

Aiko beamed. “I know this cute little place that’s becoming really popular. It’s super trendy!”

“Clothes shopping?” Colten sighed from his perch on Seina’s head. “Okay.”

Seina patted her fairy friend on the head. “It won’t be long, then we’ll get some ice cream.”

Colten perked up. “Really?”

Aiko snorted in amusement. “You spoil him too much. Yes, I promise it’ll be quick. I haven’t forgotten you, Colten. I have some activities planned for you too. There’s this street performer I heard about that might interest you. He does Kamishibai.”

Colten’s eyes lit in excitement. It also piqued Seina’s interest. Since DVD players and working TVs were still rare, the art form had reemerged on Osaka’s streets to entertain people. Though because of her training, she hadn’t caught one yet. The art form used still pictures accompanied by the performer, who narrates the story. Her fairy partner bounced on her head, unable to contain his excitement, making Seina giggle.

“Kamishibai?” Maeko said, showing genuine interest. “I haven’t seen one of those in forever.” Mr. Kiyojiro nodded in agreement, also genuinely interested.

Seina blinked. “Really? How?” The vampires were strict about punishing anyone who dared defy their edicts. Even singing could get you killed. Maeko’s past was so bizarre. Did her taskmaster even do his job?

Maeko coughed into her fist. “When I was really young. You know, before the vampires.”

Seina nodded, embarrassed by her misunderstanding. Unfortunately, most of her memories before the darkness were scarce and blurry. Worse, they consisted of people she’d rather not consider. Their presence tainted her childhood worse than anything the vampires had done. It sent blazing furious hatred through her and almost brought tears to her eyes. Why had her parents’ betrayal hurt her so much? Despite trying to forget them, thoughts of them returned at random moments, hurting her all over again. Sensing his partner’s distress, Colten rubbed her back, calming her.

“Are you okay?” Maeko said, worried by Seina’s sudden change in mood.

“It’s fine.” Her parents didn’t matter anymore. Besides, she had a new family and they wouldn’t hurt her as they had.

“There’s this ramen stand that recently opened up. I’d like to try. Would you mind having lunch there?” Mr. Kiyojiro said.

“Sounds great. Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?” Seina felt guilty for dragging her bodyguard around town without his input. Was he as bored by girls shopping as Colten was? But Mr. Kiyojiro only waved his hand, indicating his wishes didn’t matter. After some consideration, Seina decided she’d at least allow him to pick where they’d eat supper too.

“I have a suggestion.” Maeko had been quiet throughout the entire conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Before going anywhere else, there’s this manga shop nearby I’d like to try. I heard it sells brand new manga. I’m curious if the rumors are true.”

“Sounds fun.” Aiko replied. “It will give Colten something to read while he’s waiting!”

Brand new manga? That sounded interesting. It brought a smile to Seina’s heart. Little by little, humanity was reclaiming their lives. The vampire’s reign was becoming a distant memory.

“Is this the right place?” Aiko glanced around, eying their surroundings with curiosity. They’d entered a part of Osaka that still remained mostly abandoned. The streets were empty, but Seina couldn’t help but feel she was being watched. Yet, when she looked, she spotted no one around. Odd.

“Just down this alley, and we’ll be there,” Maeko said, pointing towards a colorful sign that showed the shop’s name, Shinobu Manga Emporium. Seina peeked down the alley and saw an open door, seeing shelves of colorful manga ready for purchase.

A sense of wrongness overcame Seina, and she stopped her step. The feeling of being watched intensified, but she still couldn’t locate its source. Aiko picked on her anxiety.

“Is something the matter?” Aiko glaced around, a worried expression on her face.

Maeko snorted. “Nothing’s the matter. It’s just a manga shop.”

She gave her bodyguard a meaningful look, and he nodded in agreement. He’d also sensed the prevailing wrongness. “How about we go somewhere else? This place seems kinda sketchy.” Before Maeko could offer a retort, Seina jumped aside as a humongous axe flew towards where her head had been a moment earlier. It flew past and crashed into a nearby building leveling it with a resounding crash.

A large vampire emerged from literally nowhere, brandishing an axe almost larger than his body. “You got lucky. Next time I won't miss.” Several more muscular vampires emerged, surrounding them. Aiko screamed in terror and hid behind Seina.

Maeko rubbed her temple. “Jentin, you idiot! Your eagerness alerted her to the trap. Never mind. We do this the hard way instead!” Much to Seina’s shock, her friend pulled out a brooch similar to hers. “Change Change, Magical Love Genocide Dress Up!”

What the heck was happening? The veil of illusion disappeared, revealing a face she hadn’t expected. “Takako?”

The dark magical girl smirked. “Is it that shocking? Now be a good girl and die.” She pointed her black pistol point-blank towards Seina’s midsection and fired

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2020 Day 3 “Held at Gunpoint”

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Howard Stark Tags: Tony has Issues, Young Tony, Bodyguard Steve, Misunderstandings Words: 3.689

Summary: The cold barrel of the gun feels almost nice against Tony’s pounding forehead, and he is not sure anymore whether it is meant as an encouragement to come closer or a warning to stay away. It doesn't matter. He only ever does what he wants anyway. 

---

The pounding in Tony’s head does not stop even long after he has left the club. Not the rhythm of too loud music makes him move his feet but the instinctive knowledge that he will collapse somewhere soon and he desperately wants that place to be his bed. Bad things happen when he lets his guard down – and he could do without the lecture from Howard.

Tony knows the way to the mansion without having to concentrate on where he is going. He has made this trip hundreds of times in various states of inebriation. It does not feel like home but the demons inside are easier avoided than the ones out here.

The gate is closed and the wall of windows is dark, especially the one to Howard’s office. That is no guarantee that the old man is asleep and will not bother Tony, but he sighs in relief nonetheless. The only thing worse than a migraine is Howard’s booming voice increasing the pounding.

Without needing to look, Tony enters the code at the front gate, keeping himself upright by leaning against the cold iron. When the gate suddenly opens, it almost throws him down into the dirt. Tony is not sure he would get up again, so he fights to stay on his feet.

Once inside, he turns towards the garage. The way to his room is shorter from there and he wants to avoid waking his father at all costs. For some reason, only one Stark is allowed to get blackout drunk in this house and that is never Tony.  

Once inside, he does not get far, shocked into a half-sober state by finding a strange man standing there, about halfway between the entrance and the door to the mansion. He is tall and blond and looks like he could break Tony with only one hand. The somewhat official looking, dark outfit makes it unlikely that he is a burglar – and it is well known that breaking into the Stark Mansion usually does not end well for intruders.

A new guard then, Tony guesses. For several years now, Howard has hired bodyguards for Tony, whose task was less to protect him and more to make sure he does not bring more shame down on their name. Needless to say, none of them lasted long.

The man notices Tony as soon as he steps into the garage, probably even before Tony notices his path is blocked. He straightens, which shows off his very nice shoulder line, and one hand goes to the gun on his hip. His posture is not yet threatening but a warning in itself.

“Wrong turn, buddy,” the guard says firmly but without aggressiveness. His voice is a pleasant surprise, not quite soothing Tony’s headache but not aggravating it either. “This is private property.”

A grin steals itself on Tony’s lips. He cannot believe that the new muscle does not recognize him. True, Howard’s features have slackened with the years and too much alcohol, but Tony still looks too much like him. even in ripped clothes. Beyond that, everybody knows Tony. He cannot take a single step outside without someone bothering him. And yet, a guy Howard probably hired to keep him on the right path does not even recognize his new charge. This could be fun.

“My, look at you,” Tony drawls and straightens his spine so he does not look like he will keel over any moment. “Are those muscles real?”

The closer he gets, the more mouth-watering does Hot and Blond look, even when his face darkens and his eyes narrow in indignation. Does Howard hire these people specifically for how easily Tony can bypass their defences?

A name is stitched onto the dark fabric of the uniform. S. Rogers. Not that Tony intends to use his real name much. He likes his nicknames.

“Mr. Stark is not entertaining guests tonight,” Rogers says instead of answering, standing much more stiffly now. Almost as if he is trying to take the emphasis off his muscles but managing the opposite entirely.

Tony is now close enough to realize that Hot and Blond does not only look tall but has at least a head over Tony. Leaning against a car, Tony looks him up and down with an openly suggestive grin.

“I’m sure he would like to be entertained by you.”

Perhaps Tony should not make an enemy out of the new guy. No matter that his career here will be a short one, considering nobody has the mental strength to deal with Howard and Tony for any length of time. He could still hurt Tony. The ones who believe they will have him easily in hand are usually the first to run to his father to rain down hell on him. Tony just cannot help himself, though. He is tired of Howard trying to control him, of people thinking they own him.

“Sir,” Rogers says with obvious strain in his voice. “I must ask you to leave.”

It might be an unconscious thing, but he widens his stance, eyes narrowing at Tony as if he is already picking out weak points. Tony is the weak point, the whole disappointing entirety of him.

“Oh, don’t be a bore and let me pass. I feel like puking.”

This would be easy to clear up. He could just tell Rogers his name or they could call for Jarvis. That would be too easy, though, and Tony does not like easy. He wants to know what the people around him are made of, how carefully has to handle them. Howard likes to hire those who are already a little trigger-happy before they ever meet Tony. And Tony, well, sometimes he feels as if he is made of gunpowder, ready to blow up at the first wrong move.

So, Tony does not give his name but just turns towards the door like he has already forgotten all about Rogers. It is a good thing he never let Rogers out of his sight because he has not even made two steps when there is rustling and Tony hears the familiar click of the safety of a gun.

It looks strangely hot, the way Rogers aims the gun at him. The muscles of his arm are much easier to look at. Tony could do without the pained determination on his face, however. If he will be shot in his own home, he wants it to be done with glee, not a tired sense of duty.

Tony stops and turns back fully to Rogers, openly amused at being pointed at with a weapon. The guy is trigger-happy then. Nothing in this situation calls for the use of a gun. Tony is obviously drunk and this guy could break him in half without even trying. It would be easy to simply pick Tony up and deposit him outside of the gate. But, no, Tony does not do as the nice man says and gets a barrel pointed at his face for the trouble.

Heart-rate picking up, Tony thinks that now they are getting somewhere. With just a spark of regret, he realizes he is not drunk enough to deal with this in a sensible way. Here he is, ready to be shot only to see if he can push a stranger into firing.

Perhaps people are right when they say Tony is sick. He should not be drawn to trouble like it is a magnet and he a simple compass needle, and yet that is where he goes all the time. Nobody has ever done it, either, actually pulled the trigger. Well, there was that one kidnapping where Tony got hit by a stray bullet. But, generally, people seem to think he is worth more alive and yet they never do anything to make him feel the same.

A smile spreads on Tony’s lips, growing with every thundering heartbeat. Maybe this is what it means to feel alive. His heart is stumbling, his hands are ready to grab something to fight or defend himself with, excitement stirs in the pit of his stomach – or perhaps that is fear. He does not know. Only that there is undeniably some life inside his body, for once more than just in his mind.

“Do you even know how to use that?” Tony asks and quietly calculates how quickly he would have to move to dodge a bullet fired at him at this distance. He would not make it, of course, but he has always liked numbers.

“I suggest you turn around and don’t try me.” Rogers’ hands remain steady, but, to Tony’s slight disappointment, he does not look like he wants to go through with his threat anymore.

People like this hate others being cocky, so Tony simply shrugs and says with a grin, “I like challenges.”

Then he walks forward, noticing the surprise on Rogers’ face when he manages to walk in a straight line. It also has him tightening his grip on the gun as if he only just realizes that Tony is not as drunk as he seems. Well, he is that drunk, but he knows how to pretend. That is one of the few useful lessons he learned from Howard.

“Come on,” Tony says and keeps walking until the barrel is only inches away from his face. He wonders if it would be cool against his forehead. “Shoot.”

Certainly, there are worse ways to die than getting shot in his own basement, drunk enough that he does not care for all the big and small hurts and disappointments piling up in his chest. It would be unfair to Jarvis, though, who would likely be the one to find him, the only one searching for Tony when he does not come home. That is, if Rogers would not proudly tell Howard that he has successfully eliminated a threat to their great estate. Tony wonders what Howard would do. Fire the guy, surely, but maybe give him a quiet bonus too, for dealing with his perpetual problem.

Nothing happens, so Tony takes the time to look. The guy is hot, more so from up close, even with his pinched expression. Tony wonders what he can do with these hands. That one thought sparks a flood of others, building the ultimate plan for revenge.

Slowly, suggestively, Tony sinks down to his knees. The hands with the gun automatically follow his movement, although it appears like the stranger is not quite aware of it. Like that, he looks far more menacing. His muscles are bigger, the barrel blacker. Tony likes the thrill running through him. It is something to feel other than numbness and disgust.

When he leans forward, his hands on his own knees, Rogers instinctively moves back, although he catches himself quickly.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, all amusement gone from his tone. He still does not make a move to shoot.

“What does it look like, honey?” Tony purrs, enjoying the brief panic flickering over Rogers’ face. Not his area of expertise, then.

Rogers freezes when Tony dips his head forward and muzzles at the crotch right in front of him. For a moment, the air is ripe with possibility. Then the man comes to life with a jerk and, suddenly, the barrel of the gun is pressed against the top of Tony’s head, pushing him away. It is cold, and almost as satisfying as Tony hoped.

“Mr. Stark has tasked me to keep everybody out of his home so I must ask you to leave,” he says, his voice rather pressed. Still, his hands do not waver.

The mere mention of his father has Tony rolling his eyes. It almost takes the fun out of this, but then Tony thinks of how they must look to someone else. He on his knees with a gun to his head, Rogers glaring down at him. If Howard found them, he might put that bullet in Tony’s brain himself.

“Of course, he did,” Tony says and does not hide his derision. “Mr. Stark is a raging homophobe. He’d likely fire you because you haven’t shot me already.” He pushes slightly forward against the barrel to emphasize his point. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Depending on his mood, he’d give you a raise if you got rid of me quietly.”

Indignation passes over Rogers’ face, which disappoints Tony dearly. How does nobody see through Howard’s lies, his pretty façade?

“Mr. Stark is not in the business of hiding bodies,” Rogers replies stiffly.

Sharp laughter claws its way up Tony’s throat and it rings out hollowly in the garage. Their entire company is built on producing dead bodies. Granted, they do not have to hide them because people tend to applaud them for it, but the point stands.  

“You must not have worked for him long then,” Tony says and looks up at Rogers through his lashes the way he knows people like.

Tony has not been home for a few days, but he certainly would have noticed eye candy like this wandering around. Which means he might be in the process of ruining this guy’s first day of work. Well, he will probably thank Tony for that, later. The great Howard Stark is only so nice to look at from a distance.

“Get up,” Rogers then orders, his patience running thin.

Tony grins and moves further in, presses his lips against the dark cloth in front of him. “Oh, don’t worry, he’s almost there.”

Tony knows he has gone too far a split second before Rogers moves. It is like a light switching off behind those blue eyes, making them frost over. One moment, Tony kneels in front of Rogers, ready to end his night with a bang, the next he is face down on the hard concrete, a knee in his back and the gun still too close to his face.

“I said, stop.”

For just a moment, Tony regrets his decision. Being pressed down on the floor, everything becomes too real. But then, that is what he wants, yes? Something real. Not Howards endless expectations for him to be someone else. Not the public’s ever-changing and ever-terrible portrayal of him. Not this carved out path that Tony is supposed to follow. Here he is, utterly human and just one wrong move away from getting some blissful quiet in his head.

He does not want to die, but he does not particularly want to live this life either. Over the years, he has done some stupid things, has even aimed a gun at himself. Nothing compares to the real thing, though. The flutter of his heart, the way time trickles so slowly. Tony thinks he can understand why people throw themselves out of planes or climb mountains without safety gear. He is alive only in this moment when that could quickly change.

“I heard you the first time,” Tony admits without showing any regret. This is his home and Howard taught him how to get what he wants – and he definitely does not want guards following his every step and judging him when he comes home too late or too drunk. It might be unfair that this guy got caught up in this ongoing war between Howard and Tony, but there is no helping it.

“Then I suggest you start listening,” Rogers growls, all out of kindness. “I’ll accompany you outside and you’ll leave without making a fuzz, all right? Then I might not have to tell Mr. Stark about this.”

That last thing is mostly self-defence, Tony knows, but that only makes him pity Rogers.

“You have much to learn if you think you can do anything to make the old bastard happy with you,” he says and means it as honest advice. “Fuck me right here or let me back out into the wild, you’re in for a lecture.”

Tony is not the only reason they never keep their staff long. People simply have enough options these days that they do not have to suffer through Howard’s terrible moods.

“He must be used to dealing with groupies,” Rogers says and does not yet make any move to haul Tony to his feet. He could, easily, and Tony would not mind being manhandled a bit if that would not end up with him back on the street. The whole point of coming through the garage was to not wake up Howard.

“Groupies?” Tony repeats, feeling the urge to laugh again, but he does not get enough air into his lungs for that, pressed to the ground as he is. “Please. The only people willing to kiss Howard’s ass are other corporate idiots or gold diggers.”

And the papers, lately, since they have found a better victim in Tony.

“Well, I don’t have to ask which one you are.”

That stings, strangely. This guy’s opinion should not matter and yet Tony has become overly sensitive to these things, if only because no one ever seems to have anything positive to say about him.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have to ask who I am,” Tony says and wiggles in Rogers’ grasp until he can look up at him. “I hope you made him pay you in advance.”

Although that is never a problem. Howard might yell and throw around insults, but he always makes sure that people are paid, if only to keep them from talking. The new guy might not know that, however, and Tony is done being generous.

“Are you ready to leave yet?” Rogers asks instead of answering. He looks as done as Tony feels. “I can do this all day.”

Oh, Tony will destroy him. He is basically begging for it. With a small grin, he says, “I’m more interested in what you can do all night.”

“Stop talking.” The disgust flittering over Rogers’ face is sadly familiar, but that does not mean he will not crack.

“I know a way –”

Tony does not get to finish his sentence because the man pulls him roughly to his feet and gives him a shove that almost sends him down to the ground again. He groans in protest as his ribs ring with pain at the impact.

It is definitely time to end the game. Tony wants his bed and an Advil to stave off the headache he feels building behind his temples. He turns around to keep Rogers from ruining his own life any more, but does not get farther than that.  

“What is the meaning of this?” Howard’s voice rings out over the garage, already on the verge of becoming angry. Depending on how much he heard, Tony will need more than an Advil to get through the night.

“Sir –” Rogers says but cuts himself off when Howard shushes him. He stiffens briefly, then straightens as if he wants to salute. The gun is back in its holster, and Tony wonders when that happened, but it is probably better for both their sakes if Howard does not know that Rogers pulled a gun on his son.

Tony turns to fully face his father – and show off his rather indecent clothes. They are not too revealing but still not befitting a Stark out in public.

“Just testing out the new guard dog, daddy dearest,” he drawls while keeping Rogers in the periphery of his vision.

The change on Rogers’ face is a revelation in itself. He looks between Howard and Tony, must see the likeness between them, and realizes how gravely a mistake he has made. It all plays out perfectly on his face, all his emotions displayed clearly.

“You are a disgrace, boy,” Howard snaps. These words have stopped hurting around the hundredth time he has heard them. “I should let him throw you out.”

He has done so before. Locked the doors and refused to let Tony in. “But you’re too afraid of which bed I’d end up sleeping in,” Tony replies sweetly. That was a hard lesson for Howard.

He must remember it too, because his face darkens further. “Get inside.”

Since he did not say Get in my office, maybe Tony cat get away with locking himself in his room while Howard deals with Rogers – who stands nonplussed in the background, likely not understanding the animosity between father and son. They are so similar, after all, and yet poised to destroy each other instead of conquering the world together.

“Don’t fire this one,” Tony says and pats Rogers’ chest as he passes him. “He wasn’t going to let himself be bought.”

That is as much of an argument he can offer on Rogers’ behalf. It is unlikely that Rogers will keep this job for long, but Tony does not want to get him fired the first time they met.

“What use is a bodyguard if he doesn’t recognize his charge?” Howard says, the words full of derision, but that is still directed at Tony.

“Well, you always say I’m nothing like a Stark, so you can’t fault him too much.” He should not sound so happy about this, should not reject the Stark legacy so often in front of his father. This is a cage, though, and he will keep rattling at the bars until they finally give.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” Tony says and means it. A dismissal is the best ending for this night. Since there is always a little demon riding on his shoulder, however, Tony turns towards Rogers again. “Good night, gorgeous. And do come by my room if you want to get to know me better. Just so we can avoid you mistaking me for an intruder again.”

It is unfair to stab at someone who cannot fight back, not with Howard watching them, but Tony is all out of sympathy for the night.

“Good night,” Rogers says with beet-red cheeks. Belated, he adds, “Sir.” It does not sound very sincere but it has Tony smirking. This one really will be fun. It Howard does not fire him on the spot. Tony might look for him in the morning. He bets those muscles look even better in sunlight.

[weaselinaburrow]

Title?

(the long awaited direct sequel to We'll Never Be Royals)

The Heir hits the ground with a clack of their skull, and for a long few seconds all Keet can do is stare. Then he jumps from his seat with a jolt and practically stumbles his way to his knees to crouch next to their unconscious form.

"Prinx Fable?" He asks in alarm, and when they don't respond he hastily puts fingers to their neck. He's not entirely sure what he's supposed to feel - but then there is a soft beat under his fingers, and he lets out a breath of relief.

He hadn't killed the Heir, at least.

Keet looks towards the door and opens his mouth - but before he can call for help, he hesitates. Despite whatever it is the Prinx has done to heal him, the phantoms of near unbearable pain still shiver along his nerves - and that had been their punishment.

What would they do to him if they found him crouched over the Heir like this? They'd blame him - and images of his own neck beneath a guillotine makes Keet snap his mouth closed and shiver.

He is torn. So, so torn - it'll be worse if the Prinx dies. It'll be worse if someone finds them and sees that Keet did not call for help. But worse won't matter if they hurt him anyway. If they kill him for hurting their precious Heir.

He should call for help, regardless. He knows he should. But maybe, just maybe, they'll wake before anyone comes. He bites hard at his lip, curls his hands on his thighs, and in the end he doesn't call. Instead, he turns his attention to the Heir, reaches out and wraps a hand around their shoulder, and shakes.

"Wake up," He whispers, eyes flashing between them and the door, so sure that there will be footsteps any second. "Please - you have to wake up. Prinx Fable, wake up!"

There is a little reaction, at that - a brief indecipherable mutter and a slight shift of a hand - but they don't truly wake. With a shaking breath, Keet leans back on his calves. They're alive. They'll wake up. They have to.

If they get worse, he'll get someone, he promises himself. He will. Swallowing, Keet picks up his fallen shirt, drapes it carefully over Prinx Fable's unconscious form, and waits.

-

It takes longer than Keet expected for someone to come looking - and he's just begun to hope that Prinx Fable really will wake before they do when the sudden crack of the door opening catches his attention. He quickly jumps to his feet, and explanations fall to the tip of his tongue immediately, babble bubbles ready in his chest -

But when the newcomer slips carefully around the door and shuts it softly behind them, the words stick heavy in Keet's throat.

They are tall, lanky, and other - with sharp red eyes and a vicious looking beak where human head and face might be. They're covered in deep black scales - hidden only by loose clothing. Keet has seen people like this, from a distance - even more of them since he's come to the palace. This one, though - he's never met them.

Wishes he wasn't meeting them now, because as they step into the room - fierce looking and so much taller than him - Keet feels a thrill of fear. He stammers, wordlessly, as they pause and survey the scene. Their eyes land on Fable for a long few seconds - and narrow sharply as they snap back up to Keet.

They start towards him, and in a panic Keet scrambles backwards. They follow, reach him in two or three long strides, and they shove him back into the wall hard with a hand pressed to his chest.

"What have you done?" They hiss - almost snarl - and they lean down over him, their beak so close to his face that he can make out the teeth lining the inside. By some instinct Keet draws into himself, tries to make himself look smaller, and tries even more desperately to explain but the words won't come and he can't make himself move and -

Something metal presses against his throat - pinches his skin in clear threat. He freezes, then, can't even breathe as he stares in terror up at Them. There is only a soft whine that tickles at his throat, and the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

They don't bother with any further accusation or, in fact, any words at all. Instead, the knife bites into Keet's neck, and he can feel a thin trail of warm blood slip down his skin.

"W-wait -" He finally manages to try - but he is interrupted by a soft groan that makes his assailant freeze in place. They glance over their shoulder, and Keet follows their look to find Prinx Fable stirring awake. Neither Keet nor the Other move, not until Prinx Fable starts to push themself to their feet and their gaze finally finds the scuffle nearby.

Their eyes widen in something Keet might call alarm, and all at once they try to scramble to their feet.

"Wait," they say in a rush, "wait, Black, don't hurt -" they groan, then, and just as they find their feet they stumble all over again and end up back on their knees. That, finally, spurs Keet's attacker into motion. They turn away from Keet entirely and hurry to Prinx Fable's side.

Free, Keet lifts a hand and rubs at his neck with a wince. He stays where he is - watches from a cautious distance as the - palace guard? Bodyguard? Bird-thing? - helps the Prinx to their feet and supports them once there.

"You need to see the doctor," They say, and Keet blinks and refocuses on the pair just in time to see Prinx Fable nods slightly. Their eyes are still somewhat unfocused when they aim them at Keet.

"Keet, too," they say, and Keet surprises even himself with how quickly he shakes his head.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding!"

"Only a little, it's okay, I'm fine," Keet repeats, stubbornly, "I don't want to go with you." He can see Prinx Fable flinch slightly, at that, and Keet is quick to glance away from them. Instead, though, his eyes find the bird-thing's - Black's, he guesses - and they are dangerously narrow as Black looks back at him.

"The Heir gave you an order," Black says, pointed and cold, and Keet flinches, draws his shoulders up towards his ears.

"Sorry -" he starts, but at the same time Prinx Fable says, "it's okay," and Keet stops and waits.

"It's okay," they repeat, "you don't have to come. Just…please get that looked at, okay? Later? Please?"

Keet looks back to them, then, and there are any number of mean things he could say. Some he almost wants to - but they look so tired. Worried. Sincere. They still lean heavily against Black, worn out from whatever it is they did to help Keet. And with all that in mind, all he manages in a soft nod.

Prinx Fable wears their relief clear on their face, and with that settled Black turns to support them and lead them away. Keet watches them go, hears Black say something scathing about him - but he doesn't hear what Prinx Fable says in return, and soon enough both of them are gone.

[detectivejigsawpines]

North by Northwest Conspiracy-part 6 (Screw the truth, the Northwests have money!)

An alternative title could be, “Filthy lucre makes you filthy rich.”

The Northwest patriarch was the spitting image of his grandfather, except that instead of a beard he had a neatly clipped mustache and a pair of enormously bushy eyebrows.  Every time he looked at them, Ford was hard-pressed not to see them as giant caterpillars crawling on his forehead. Just like his son, he was wearing a tailor-made suit, with a dark green necktie and a blue pin that closer examination made him suspect was actually a full-fledged diamond.  He was standing in front of a sleek black car, arms folded in blatant disapproval.

“Preston, what have I told you about consorting with riffraff?” he demanded as the group approached.

“I wasn’t consorting with them!  I overheard-”

“It looks very much like consorting to me.”  The caterpillars mashed themselves together.

“But-”

And then out of the blue a bell appeared in his hand; the sound of it ringing instantly silenced the boy, who sullenly padded through the gates to stand at his father’s side.  It made something uncomfortable twist in Ford’s gut.

“That’s better.”  Mr. Northwest turned to the rest of them: Stan, Ford, Dan, the unconscious hoodlums, and Sir Quentin, who was for some reason trying to climb up the side of a tall gravestone that had some stone birds on top.  His bright eyes narrowed as he looked at the Pineses.

“I know you, Stanford, but I haven’t had the...pleasure of meeting your twin.”

“Stan Pines.”  Stan readjusted his grip on his new sword, and made no attempt at offering to shake hands.

Mr. Northwest rolled with it, giving him a slight nod that was the facade of politeness.  “Auldman Northwest.”

Stan blinked.  “You call yourself Old Man?”

It was Mr. Northwest’s turn to blink.  “No, that’s my name. Auldman.”

“...Your parents literally named you Old Man?  I mean, I guess that’s an optimistic view of your life expectancy, but-”

“It’s Auldman!  You’re not pronouncing it right!”  The irritation in the old man’s voice (great, now that Stan had pointed the similarity out Ford couldn’t unhear it) was immensely satisfying.  And Ford would have continued to think that Stan was making the mistake in all innocence if he hadn’t seen the mischievous twitch that kept rising to his brother’s lips.  As entertaining as it was, however, he didn’t want to push it.

“...Can we help you with something?” Ford asked, subtly elbowing Stan in the ribs as a hint to knock it off.

Mr. Northwest recomposed himself with a sniff.  “I came looking for my son.” He gave Preston a disapproving frown.  “You left that fox of yours unattended again, and he got in a fight with a few alley cats and destroyed some merchandise at the market.  Remember, if you can’t control him, you can’t keep him.”

“Yes, Father,” Preston murmured.  Then, head jerking back up, he said all in a rush, “But I had a good reason!  They found out that that man is the-the real founder of Gravity Falls!” He pointed to Sir Quentin (who had finally reached the top of the gravestone, and was staring off into the distance with one hand shading his eyes, in a pose that on some people might have looked somewhat distinguished).

Mr. Northwest’s eyebrow rose.  “...You mean the one who’s not wearing pants?”

“Yeah, he-”  Preston visibly realized that telling his old man he’d kept himself alive inside a block of peanut brittle for a hundred years would not help his case, and said quickly, “It’s complicated, but they said they were gonna tell the newspapers about Great-Grandfather not being the founder-” his voice quivered for a moment- “so I hired some bodyguards to help me stop them!”

One of the aforesaid bodyguards, the one called Ghost Eyes, groaned and stirred a little; Dan subtly put his boot on top of his kneecap until he was still again.

Mr. Northwest went stock still for a moment, but at last made an exasperated sound and straightened.  “Clearly, Preston, you’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you about dealing with problems like this.”  He stepped through the gates, and with a motion he must have performed hundreds of times he whipped out a checkbook, scribbled in it for a moment, and pressed a check into Ford’s hand with a bored sigh.  “This should cover any desire the three of you might have to spread such silly rumors.”

****

Ford spluttered with rage; Dan made a similar sound, and if he’d had an axe in his hand Ford wouldn’t have bet two cents on the Northwest’s patriarch’s life expectancy lasting much longer.

“You-you think that you can just bribe us into supporting your lies?!” Ford demanded.  “There’s not enough money in the world for us to-”

Stan tilted his head until he could see the figure scrawled on the check-and let out a startled whistle.  “Wow.”

Despite his fury, Ford couldn’t help glancing down at it.  And when he saw what they were being offered, he couldn’t help being a little in awe himself.  It was a sum that would definitely have come in handy while he was in college, and even moreso when he was growing up, and here it was being offered to them on a silver platter.

But his awe only lasted for a moment; he gave Mr. Northwest a contemptuous stare.  “You must be very insecure about your family’s status if you’re willing to throw money around like this.”

The old man looked a little taken aback...before his brows settled together again in a glare.  “This town needs someone they can look up to with respect. Otherwise they would have absolutely nothing to be proud of.”

Dan growled again, and Ford could tell that it was all he could do to reign in his temper.  Mr. Northwest just gave him an impassive stare, and turned back to Ford. “We have a reputation to uphold, and I will prevent you from spoiling that with either a carrot, like this…” his tone frosted over, “...or a stick.  It’s your choice, young man.”

Ford turned to his companions for backup-and saw a small degree of hesitancy in Stan’s eyes.

For a moment he was angry that his own twin could actually be considering accepting such an offer-but then he put some rapid-fire thought into why he would.

On the one hand, it was dirty money from a pretentious, crooked old man who it appeared was just as horrible of a father as Filbrick Pines.

On the other hand, it was money.  A really, really large sum of money.  To someone who’d been homeless for five years and spent most of that time trying to make money, that had to be extremely tempting, especially when it required so little in return.

Turning his back on the Northwests, Ford lightly touched his brother’s arm.  “We don’t need it, Stanley.”

Stan’s eyes met his, and after another hesitant moment, he gave a decisive nod.  He snatched the check from Ford’s hand...and sank his teeth into it, ripping the paper in half.

“This is quality stuff,” he said with his mouth full, looking over at Mr. Northwest.  “You’ve got good paper, Old Man.”

********

Not even Stan is completely incorruptible. And yes, I know they've made lots of money off the unicorns and other supernatural creatures, but I think there's a part of Stan's subconscious that just wants to seize any opportunity to make more, you know?

[keeyasnowtail]

Letters from Tavros

Part 9

I was to meet with a guy named Jack a few hours after sunset who would be in charge of Kendrak’s bodyguards during the ambush. Apparently one of Damien’s, but come on, how was I expected to find that one Jack in Kessex. Half of the pirate population probably was called Jack. My only hope was that I looked lost enough for him to find me and that Damien described me well enough.

Then, suddenly someone tapped my shoulder from behind. A slender looking charr in black garbs wearing a hood that obscured most of his face approached me. “If you want Kyra, there is no time to waste. You cannot wait for Jack. I can help you, but you’ll have to trust me. If we don’t intervene now she will be killed before dawn.” I looked at him puzzled and before I could even ask he added “She was supposed to be in some of the fights tomorrow, but killed two of the pen guards and almost managed to escape. This was not the first incident and since then they decided she was not worth the trouble and will get rid of her. Together with some of the beasts they cannot handle safely either.” He paused for a moment… “Means they will throw them into a sinkhole near the mountainside.”

I was a bit overwhelmed with all the information to process. The mysterious charr seemed to be in a hurry and constantly searched his surroundings with a sharp gaze. I looked at him and wanted to ask a question, but he already had an answer “This key fragment will activate a portal that will bring us right into the mountain. If you must know, it is from one of the nobles who will be attending the games. Once he finds out it was stolen, security will be too tight for us to slip in, so time is of the essence. It is one way, but there is an escape tunnel below the water we can use. It’s a long dive though.”

Judging from his looks he could’ve been anyone, one of Damien’s, Kendrak’s or in for his own gain. I wanted to ask him who he was… but he looked almost frightened himself as if he risked everything to get me this information. So I agreed to his plan. “One last thing. Any guards we’ll meet… we will have to defend ourselves. I am not exactly sure where this portal will place us and last time I saw Kyra was somewhere around noon. Let's hope they didn't move her to another cell.”

We made our way to an abandoned farm in Queensdale as fast as we could. It was well after midnight now. The portal dumped us into a small room with one exit, the door was locked. It was sparsely decorated, a table with chairs, a sofa and some shelves with bottles of cheap wine. We listened closely and could make out two guards standing outside, either somewhere in a hallway or in front of the door. The other charr looked around the room and gave me a wooden plank he grabbed from a pile of trash. He gestured me to stand on one side of the door and keep my plank ready… then knocked on the door loud enough for the guards outside to hear it.

I chuckled at the confusion this caused outside. We could hear them approach and unlock the door. I firmly grabbed my plank and almost hurled it at where the door was… which was now one of the guards’ heads. It hit them with enough force to throw them against the wall on the opposite side. It knocked them out instantly. Before I realized what happened to the other guard, I saw my complice standing next to him removing a dagger from his back and letting the body fall to the ground. He took their keys “Here, help me get them inside.”

He locked the room, broke off the keys and threw the remains somewhere into an empty cell. We were in a hallway that extended quite a bit to both side. Apart from the room with the door we came from, the rest were barred holding pens. Most of them were empty, the rest filled with creatures or prisoners. “This way…” the other charr grabbed my paw and we ran down the hallway to the… I had no idea in which direction we were going. We took a staircase down further into the complex and stopped in front of a cell. Inside was… Kyra.

We managed to open the door without too much noise and went inside. The other charr already kneeled down besides Kyra. “Here, help me.” he whispered towards me. She wasn’t moving and looked quite beaten up. A huge wound extended from her shoulder towards her arm. The fur on her back was burnt badly and some sort of wire was wrapped around her right foot that tore into her skin and flesh. I sat down next to her and tried to find a way to remove the wire. She bled badly as we finally managed to unwrap it. Yet she didn’t move or even open her eyes, only grunted in pain as I took her paw and looked around for something to wrap it into.

The other charr found some rags in the corner of the cave that once seemed to be her clothes… or what was left of them. She didn’t wear anything. I took the cleanest part I could find and carefully wrapped it around the wound on her foot. She finally opened her eyes as good as she could and looked directly at me. After a long moment of silence she asked “Who are you? Why are you doing this? Just let me die here.”

“Shhh…” the other charr put a paw onto her muzzle. “Don’t talk, we have to leave this place. Now.” He pulled Kyra up to stand next to me and gave her to me to hold. She could barely stand on her left foot and tried to hide her pain whenever she had to shift weight onto the right paw. Meanwhile the other charr looked through the cell trying to gather her belongings. Kyra noticed this and only responded with “I… don’t have. If it’s my clothes you are trying to find.”

It was no use, we had to leave with her now. Since she could only walk very slowly I took her on my back and tried to carry her. She was surprisingly light even though she was taller than me. My partner scouted ahead and gestured me to hurry and follow him down a narrow staircase further into the dark. Kyra was completely silent and I had to grab her paws firmly to prevent her from slipping off my back. She noticed this “I… can’t… hold on really. I am sorry. Just leave without me. Your chances are better alone.”

The staircase ended on a tiny ledge. A huge chasm leading into the dark was in front of us. But I could tell there was water flowing on the bottom. We hid in the shadow of the tunnel we came from as there were lots of guards on the cliff on the other side. This seemed to be a central place of the entire cave system and it was very busy. The other charr looked around a bit, then came back to us in the shadow. “The water on the bottom leads outside towards the lake. There is a path down, but we will be somewhat exposed. Kyra’s and also your fur is too bright against the dark walls, we’ll draw attention to us. I, uhm, suggest some mud?” which he added with a quite amused undertone. “You will get a bath once we are at the ground!”

I should have thrown him into the water for this. But seeing there were not many options to descend into the chasm unnoticed I ended up covered in mud. I didn’t really want to cover Kyra’s wounds with this, but she was completely apathetic when we smeared more dirt into her fur than what already was on it. Once we were finished and the other charr noticed the guards were distracted enough, we took our chance “Now or never, Keeya, let’s go!”

Hearing that name must have surprised Kyra. She looked at me and tried to stand next to me on her own “Keeya?” Trying not to stand on her right paw she almost slipped, but I managed to hold her safely. She did however cause some rubble fall down into the chasm which didn’t go unnoticed. I could hear the guards starting to talk and finally someone pointed at us.

There was no way we could run down this tiny path. It was slippery and Kyra was barely able to walk, least of all run. Before I noticed, a guard grabbed a bow and fired on us. The first arrow ricocheted on the rock surface but the second one scratched my side and hit Kyra’s arm. She cried out in pain and let go of her grip. I managed to grab her arm and tried to prevent her from falling but it was too late, I slipped and tumbled into the dark with her. I pulled her as close as I could while we fell down this hole. Which felt like an eternity until we finally hit the water. I pulled her back to the surface. The arrow was still stuck in Kyra’s arm and the wound bled quite a bit in the water. With a second splash the other charr landed in the water next to us. At least we were out of sight of the bandits above and none dared to follow us down here. They probably assumed we were dead anyway.

Kyra was unconscious, but at least it was easier to move with her in the water than it was on the ground. The other charr looked at Kyra for a moment, then removed his re-breather and gave it to me. “Take this, she will need it. There is only one way out now. A flooded cave system that leads into the lake. I will swim ahead, but I cannot wait for you or help with Kyra. You will be on your own. Be warned though, the path is quite long, but there is a current that flows out into the lake. If you follow it you will make it. I will hopefully meet you there again.” He described the path we had to swim along… before taking a long and deep breath and diving down into the dark water.

He was gone and I was alone with Kyra now. It was almost pitch black and I could barely make out the way I was supposed to go. Relieved she was still alive I put the breather on her and dragged her underwater ready to make it to the underground river. I couldn’t see anything. Neither where I was going nor what was around me. I made sure I was ahead and held Kyra as close as I could. I would never find her again if I lost her here.

The path dragged on, but I could still feel the pull of the current the charr mentioned. My greatest fear however was to find his body somewhere in this water. I had no idea how you could hold your breath that long. After what felt like forever there was a very faint light in the water. And before I realized, I noticed it was the moon shining onto the surface of the water.

I tried to swim upwards, but wasn’t quite sure whether I lost my orientation. Suddenly I felt a paw grabbing mine and pulling me into a certain direction. We splashed to the surface… it was the other charr that pulled us out of the water. It was not yet dawn and the moon illuminated a little beach we were at. I removed Kyra’s breather and she finally regained consciousness. Though she was barely able to move. The other charr removed his coat, dried it up as good as he could and wrapped it around Kyra so she would at least wear something. She looked at me as if she wanted to ask something, but remained silent while I tried to remove the rest of the mud from her fur and the remains of the arrow from her arm.

For the first time I saw the other charr’s face. He had pitch black fur and quite a number of scars on his face. A huge scar covered his chest. And then I realized one of them going directly through his left eye. He could only see with one. “We need to leave before sunrise. There are no friendly places here I could offer you. We have at least get to the mountain pass a few hours east of here. I know of a remote norn hunting lodge where we could rest for as long as we need to. I can get a message ahead if you want some of your friends to meet you there.”

“Who are you?” I finally asked the mysterious charr. He stopped what he was doing and turned around. “I am Tavros.”

[worldofblade]

Head Assassin Ch 7

BTS Fanfic:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | (T-1) | (T-2) | 5 | 6 | (T-3) | 7 | (T-4) |

Warnings:  Violence/blood/gore, attempted rape, attempted kidnapping, elements of torture, death, dark!fic, dark!bts.

Rating:  R

Beta:  The ever wonderful @blerdygirlwrites

A/N:  Hope you enjoy this next chapter in the main plot.  Love to hear feedback.  :)

~~~

“Finally found it…” Ji-Soo sighed. She had spent almost an hour placing call after call to materials management trying to get the correct tubing sent to the floor that she was helping today.  Finally, after yet again getting regular tubing, instead of blood tubing she decided to go down to the damn warehouse herself.  The nurses had already run to other floors and borrowed from them, but Ji-Soo wanted to see that they got stocked properly.  

“She is a pretty little thing; too bad she is a hybrid whore!”

Startled by the comment, she came to a stop as she rounded the corner at the front entrance of the supply warehouse. She saw two unknown men who seemed to be talking to her bodyguard.  “Chen, who are-”

Ji-Soo stumbled backwards as one of the men began stalking towards her.  He was huge, wearing work boots and a black beanie; eyes full of malice.  Ji-Soo looked to Chen and was shocked to see a sadistic smile on his face.  She stared stupidly at the man who was supposed to keep her safe. Finding the warehouse void of workers hadn’t phased her when she initially came down, as she was only focused on finding at least one box of tubing to take back to the floor.  Now, the stark reality of it all came crashing down.  She was alone, and in danger.

Reacting purely on instinct, Ji-Soo turned and ran.  Only taking a few strides before the huge man shoved her to the floor.  Clawing at the concrete floor and gasping for breath, she tried to get back on her feet, but a heavy steel-toe work boot crashed down on her back grinding her further into the floor.  Laughter met her scream of pain.  Suddenly the foot was gone, and a pair of rough hands grabbed Ji-Soo by her hair and flipped her onto her back as she gulped air into her bruised lungs.

“Not so high and mighty are we now, Bitch?” Chen sneered, dragging Ji-Soo off the floor to her feet. He  back-handed her sending her tumbling to the floor again, smiling when he saw the blood pouring from her mouth.

“Grab the tramp and let’s go.” The second man said, as he pushed his glasses further up his nose and glanced worriedly at the door to the warehouse.  

“No!  I’m going to take what’s coming to me!” Chen snarled, before straddling Ji-Soo and pawing at her shirt.

JI-Soo’s will to fight had subsided for a moment as she battled against the dizziness and nausea threatening to overwhelm her, but feeling Chen’s hands and body pressed against hers brought back the need to fight.

“Bastard!” She screamed, before scratching and biting blindly, hoping to strike anything she could reach. Trying to kick her legs up to buck him off was useless, but still she tried.  Chen continued to rain blows down on her face to stop her from resisting, but at this point she was numb to the pain.  She knew that if she stopped fighting, she would be raped and killed.  She wasn’t going to stop fighting.

“I should have known, a hybrid slut liked it rough!” Chen wrapped his hands around Ji-Soo’s throat and squeezed.  He felt a thrill as she sputtered and clawed at his hands, trying to suck oxygen back in to her burning lungs.

Blackness was overtaking her.  Ji-Soo felt herself fading and wondered if this was the end.  Her last thought was that her mother would miss her terribly.

```

 Jungkook was done with his meeting at the hospital but couldn’t make himself leave.  After much debate, he just decided to give in and do what he really wanted to do; ask where Lee Ji-Soo was stationed.  Learning the floor where she was stationed made him feel giddy.  He knew it probably wasn’t right, but he was really looking forward to talking with her again.  Their encounter on the hospital steps earlier that day had been somewhat embarrassing, but if he was truthful with himself, it had also been extremely pleasant.  Not only was she funny and kind, but his body had felt scorched when she had flattened against him trying not to fall. Feeling his face heat up, Jungkook was very happy the elevator was empty.  He also knew that Namjoon would kill him if he became aware of what he was thinking.  The elevator doors opened, and for a split second Jungkook almost hit the down button that would take him away.  Away from the inappropriate thoughts and feelings, but then he couldn’t.  Stepping out, he made his way to the main desk.

“Ji-Soo went to materials.” A harried unit clerk answered Jungkook as she typed into a computer.

“Wasn’t that a while ago?” A passing nurse asked, after hearing their conversation.  “I would think she would have been back by now.”

Jungkook felt a knot form in his stomach when the clerk asked others if they had seen Ji-Soo return, and all shook their heads no.

“How do I get to materials?” Jungkook asked.

“It’s on lower level 1, but you can’t access it.  You need a badge.”

Ripping the badge off the clerk, Jungkook ignored her and her co-workers’ shouts and headed toward the stairs.  He didn’t completely understand why his gut was telling him to hurry, but he wasn’t going to ignore it.  Using his phone to send a message to Namjoon, Jungkook started running.

 ```

 Namjoon loosened his tie and sighed as he rubbed his eyes.  Meeting after damn meeting.  He never realized how much bullshit red-tape one had to cut through to run a military. Well, a government, really.  Hearing his phone beep for what had to be the thousandth time that day, Namjoon suppressed the urge to throw the thing at the wall.  Taking a steadying breath, he brought up his messages.  He felt his blood run cold, and his breath stop.   Jumping out of his chair, he ran out of his office and down to the garage of the building. Almost colliding with Yoongi and Jimin who were doing the same after also receiving the message from Jungkook.

“I’ll alert the hospital to go on lockdown.” Yoongi said, as they all three pounded down the stairs. Namjoon didn’t reply as he pushed through the basement door, tearing it off its hinges.  The three raced to a car.  Yoongi barely managed to open the car door for Namjoon before he tore it open, saving it from being demolished.  Piling in, Jimin threw the car into gear and sped out, narrowly avoiding smashing into the opening garage doors.

 ```

 Bursting through the stairwell door, Jungkook followed the signs that led him to materials.  Getting closer to the warehouse door, his years of training kicked in, and he silently made his way down the rest of the hallway. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was ready for anything.  At least he thought he was.  Hearing a muffled, but obviously female scream, Jungkook’s training for stealth flew out the window.  Not even remembering that he had a badge to unlock the door, Jungkook threw a powerful kick at the door, splintering it to pieces.

The three men surrounding Ji-Soo jumped when an inhuman roar echoed around the warehouse.  Chen had a moment of confusion when he suddenly saw his two friends on the floor staring at him with glassy eyes and broken necks.  Before his brain could fully process what was going on, he flew through the air, and felt his head crack against the wall.  He felt the thick gush of blood before slumping to the floor unconscious.

“Ji-Soo?” Jungkook forced himself back under control, as he knelt next to Ji-Soo and tried to feel for a pulse.  It sickened him to see the bloody mess that the three men had made of her.  Calm settled over Jungkook as he discovered she still had a heartbeat and that she was getting air through her battered throat. Jungkook gathered Ji-Soo up in his arms and began muttering what he hoped were soothing words.

Ji-Soo fought her way through the darkness.  She could feel strong arms still had her in their grasp and decided that she was still not going to give up.  Letting out a hoarse cry, she again began to weakly thrash around.

“Ji-Soo!  It’s ok.  It’s Jungkook.  I have you. You’re safe.” Jungkook soothed trying to keep Ji-Soo from hurting herself more.

“Jung…Jungkook?” Ji-Soo blinked a few times, finally bringing Jungkook’s face into focus.  Then she turned her head and saw two bodies lying at horrible, unnatural angles, obviously dead.  “I’m going to be sick…”

Jungkook helped Ji-Soo scramble to her knees and held her hair back as she retched and vomited.  He knew it was all too much for her.  Not only had she been attacked, but this was probably the fist time she had ever seen death.  After a while, Ji-Soo slumped back into Jungkook’s arms again.

“Chen was with them!” Ji-Soo rasped, as she burrowed further into Jungkook’s warmth.  “I thought I was going to die!”  With that she began to sob.  Clinging to Jungkook like he was her lifeline.

Jungkook let her cry. Let her clutch him in a death grip. He knew that he should be calling for an emergency team to get down here and start treating her, but instead he sat and held her.  He didn’t think he had ever been so scared, when he thought for a moment that she was dead. Glancing over at Chen to make sure he was still out, Jungkook had to force himself, yet again, to not kill him. Even in his rage, he had known that he needed to keep Chen alive.  The bodyguard needed to be questioned, but it had taken everything in him to not crush the man’s skull.  He could hear people running down the hall and started to turn towards the door.

Namjoon, followed closely by Jimin and Yoongi, ran into the room.  Namjoon quickly took in the scene before zeroing in on Ji-Soo. Kicking the dead bodies away so that Ji-Soo would not have to look at them, he crouched by Jungkook and began taking Ji-Soo into his own arms.

Not being able to keep completely up with what was happening so fast around her, Ji-Soo thought someone was attacking her again, and trying to take her away from Jungkook.

“NO!” Ji-Soo screamed, and clutched tighter to Jungkook as she became hysterical.  Jungkook immediately pulled her tighter against him, and away from Namjoon.  Namjoon felt like he had been slapped when his wife burrowed deeper into Jungkook to avoid his hands and continued to hyperventilate and cry.  Shock finally setting in, Ji-Soo slumped into oblivion.

Jungkook, feigning caution to hide his reluctance, gave Ji-Soo over to Namjoon who’s eyes were boring into his own.  The two hybrids gave each other dark looks, before Namjoon quickly took Ji-Soo to the elevator and the emergency room.  Looking down at his now empty arms, Jungkook fought the ridiculous need to go and demand Namjoon give Ji-Soo back.  Taking in the blood that stained his suit, Jungkook felt his heart speed up at what could have happened if he had not got here in time.

“Was Chen down when you came?” Yoongi asked.

“No.  I did that to Chen.” Jungkook shook himself from his thoughts and forced himself to think about the here and now.  Coming to his feet, he faced the other two hybrids. “Chen was part of it.  When I came in, he had Ji-Soo on the ground.  I killed the other two and incapacitated him.”

Just then, Chen moaned, and slowly his eyes opened.  When his eyes finally focused, he was met with the truly terrifying site of a grinning Yoongi.

“Hello, Chen.” Yoongi’s voice rang out almost scarily cheerful.  “We are going to get to know each other very well.”

 ```

Namjoon wanted to kill someone.  No, not someone.  Chen. He wanted to kill Chen.  Knowing that he was needed to be kept alive to find out what the hell was going on, did nothing to lessen this desire.  The only thing he had cared about, at first, was getting Ji-Soo to medical help.  He allowed the community hospital she volunteered at to stabilize her, and then transferred her to a secured location for the rest of the treatment.  It was a hybrid run hospital, and Namjoon felt slightly less anxious now that she was on one of his military bases.  Looking at her, he felt his stomach tighten.  She was covered in nasty bruises and suffered a concussion and several cracked ribs.  It had been 2 days since the attempted kidnapping, and Ji-Soo wanted to go home, but Namjoon wanted to keep her at the hospital, just to ensure she was healing properly.

“No….no don’t…. help…. Jungkook….”

Namjoon reached for Ji-Soo’s hand as she slipped into the throes of another nightmare.  She had them almost every time she was finally able to drift off to sleep.

“It’s ok.  You’re safe.  I’m here.” Namjoon said, waiting for her to either calm, or awake.  It killed him every time she had these dreams. It was something he could do nothing about.  He wanted to banish them for her, but he couldn’t.  It also killed him that she called out for Jungkook every time. Jungkook had saved her, and even now Namjoon knew that she only truly felt safe when Jungkook was in the room. She never told him that, or even asked to see Jungkook, but Namjoon knew.  It made his demon furious.  It made him jealous.  It made him ashamed.  He wasn’t the one who protected her, and he would never forgive himself.

Ji-Soo’s eyes popped open and frantically darted around the room.

“Namjoon?”

“I’m here.” He answered, gently helping her sit up in bed.  He made sure the pillows were where she wanted them, and then poured her some water.

“It still makes me chuckle to think that the big bad General Kim is fluffing my pillows and pouring me water.” Ji-Soo smiled before accepting the water.

“I know, my rep is taking a serious blow.” Namjoon forced himself to tease back.  This was another thing she had started to do.  Always trying to say something funny or trying to always have a smile on her face.  She would never acknowledge the nightmares and had only talked about the attack once. The other attempts to bring it up, whether by Namjoon or the therapist, were met with clipped yes or no answers to questions.

A knock at the door, had Ji-Soo grabbing his hand.  Giving her a reassuring squeeze, Namjoon smiled.

“Jimin and Jungkook are going to stay with you while I attend an important meeting.” Namjoon said, before going to the door to let them in.

“General.” Both hybrids bowed.  Namjoon acknowledge them but couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching and giving Jungkook a hard stare.  He was afraid that he was fast coming to hate Jungkook.  It was harsh, and unfair as he owed Jungkook for saving Ji-Soo; but even that fact was not stopping the hate.  His demon wanted to beat the Golden-hybrid bloody and then laugh as he watched him die.  Those feelings always gave Namjoon pause, as he wondered if he was somehow more closely related to a Scorch than anyone knew. Turning back to Ji-Soo, Namjoon plastered a smile on his face while Jimin and Jungkook followed him into the room.

“I should be back by lunch.” Namjoon said, “You can contact me at any time.”

“I know, I know.” Ji-Soo smiled.  “If I get so much as a broken nail, these two will tell you.  Don’t worry.”

Namjoon stood looking at Ji-Soo for a bit, before finally forcing himself to walk out of her room.  The door shut, and Namjoon could make out Jungkook saying he brought one of those trashy entertainment magazines for her.  He could imagine the truly beautiful smile that she would grace Jungkook with.  A smile, that she had never given him.

“Want me to kill Golden Boy?” Yoongi asked, bringing Namjoon out of his thoughts.  His second in command was lounging on one of the hallway chairs.  Namjoon eyed him for a moment, trying to see if he was joking. Then scoffed at himself.  Of course, Yoongi wasn’t joking.  If Namjoon wanted Jungkook dead, Yoongi would gladly do it.

“Not at present, no.” Namjoon answered, walking past Yoongi towards the elevators.

“Liar, liar.”  Yoongi taunted, before following.

“What I do want.” Namjoon bit out, showing his frustration.  “Is for you to start doing your damn job and finding out why my wife was attacked!”

“I plan to pay Chen a visit tonight.” Yoongi said, not at all phased by Namjoon’s outburst.  “I usually wouldn’t let my prisoner see a single soul for at least a week, but I moved up my timetable for you.”

“I appreciate it.” Namjoon deadpanned, before punching the elevator button.

 ```

 A blast of freezing cold water hit Chen, bringing him out of his stupor.

“Wakey, wakey!”

Trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, Chen rubbed at his eyes.  The sound of a chair being dragged across the concrete, grated on his already shot nerves, and he moved to the corner to huddle.  Only daring to look up when it was quiet again.

“Hello Chen.  How are you tonight?” Yoongi asked. He smiled when Chen began to cry.

[leonawriter]

Fall Down At Your Door

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Pairings: Zack/Aerith

Characters: Zack, Aerith, Cloud, Reno, others mentioned.

Summary: He somehow makes it all thew way into Midgar, and all the way to the church, Cloud in tow, before collapsing. And when he wakes up, he sees pink.

...

Zack's still half carrying, half dragging Cloud along with him when he shoulders the doors to the Sector Five church open. He manages enough steps that they're halfway to the flowers before the events of the past few days-

past few years, mako green swimming in front of his eyes, time passing them by, and then it's green fields, and he still doesn't know how much time has gone by

-full of wondering how the troops he was sure he'd seen in the truck's path had just vanished like that, as if they'd just wandered off somewhere on a whim.

Packed with racing from street corner to darkened alley to empty house, trying to evade the military that he hadn't realised was so big. Was everywhere.

But now here he was, and the light streaming through the hole in the roof - a hold he'd made, or was it that he'd fallen through something that had already been there, he wondered? - felt like home.

He falls, as if in slow motion, unable from one moment to the next to be able to hold up Cloud's weight.

He never feels his face hit the wood of the church floor.

Doesn't hear Aerith gasp as she comes in through the door, some time later.

...

It's dark when he wakes up, and not just because it's night. There's something heavy and scratchy over his face, but it comes away easily enough when he tugs at it.

When he can see again, his eyes are filled with auburn hair and green eyes-

her green eyes, not the ones that now haunted his nightmares and made him wake up with tears on his face because even this long after everything had happened, he still couldn't understand

-and pink, so much pink.

He sits up, trying to ignore the aches and pains and bruises and injuries they'd already been able to get on him before he'd slipped away.

"I think they're looking for you," she says, and it makes his heart hurt and his eyes sting just to hear her voice. "So I decided I wouldn't let them find you if I could help it. I'm not sure how well I fooled Tseng, but - where've you been? I waited - I waited so long."

He opens his mouth to say something, explain, something, and there's just too much.

He's finally here, and he can't say a thing.

Instead, the tears start to fall. Just like the last time. He'd tried so hard to save them all, and he didn't think he'd been able to do anything for any of them, in the end.

Aerith didn't push. She opened her arms, and held him just like she had before, and he felt safe.

...

He only realises that Cloud is missing when he asks Aerith where his friend is, and she says that she doesn't know what he means, that there'd been no one else in the church when she'd found him.

He hates himself, even though he knows he shouldn't, even though he couldn't have stopped Cloud from walking off or someone from taking him if he'd been unconscious himself.

Briefly, he wonders how Genesis is doing, remembering the state he'd left the older ex-SOLDIER First in, but can't allow himself the luxury of letting his mind wander too long on something he can't change or affect, when in the here and now, Cloud needs him.

Aerith stops him from leaving the church, reminding him that they were still out there, still looking for him.

She promises to look for Cloud for him, and he remembers a promise to make a promise every time they met, and although he hates not being able to do anything, he agrees.

...

Days go by, and still no sign, still no word. Surely, he thinks, it shouldn't be that hard to find one blond country bumpkin in a SOLDIER uniform who's still recovering from mako poisoning, right?

"I'll try asking someone else tomorrow," Aerith says, and he can only nod while he paces.

They feel the vibrations of an explosion even from Sector Five, and Aerith later tells him that it'd been on the news that a terrorist group had blown up one of the reactors. AVALANCHE, she says, and it makes Zack come out in a cold sweat-

black SOLDIER uniforms and faces he knew but they just weren't there anymore, laughing and laughing even as they tried to kill him right up until they were dying and he couldn't save them, not really, but at least they'd known who they were at the end

-hoping against hope that Cloud hadn't ended up drawn into whatever was going on, that he wouldn't see Cloud's face the same way he remembered Essai and Sebastian's having gone.

Zack had been forced to raise his sword - Angeal's sword - against too many of his friends already. He didn't think he could take one more.

He swallows down a cry of frustration, holds himself back from hitting anything, hurting anything, and works the energy and the fear off by pacing the far end of the church and the familiar routine of squats, but none of it makes him any more calm. 

...

There's another explosion, and Zack tenses, only relaxing somewhat when Aerith puts her hand on his arm.

He hadn't even realised that he'd put his hand to his sword before that. But it isn't as though the past year hadn't given him enough reason to think that loud noises meant that he'd be having to defend himself.

It isn't long before he's put fully on his guard again, though. 

Something crashes through the roof, dust and debris flying to the point where for a good few moments he's levelling the buster sword at whoever - or whatever - it was that had fallen onto Aerith's flowers.

There's no motion, however. And Aerith shakes her head and walks over to see, and waves him over, saying that whoever they were, they seemed to be alive but unconscious.

He nearly drops his sword when he sees who it is. He does lean it very carefully, very quickly, against a pew.

There was no mistaking that mess of blond hair

"That's him," he finds himself gasping out, "that's him! It's Cloud."

...

Zack makes sure he's there when Cloud wakes up, is worried to see the way his friend reacts. Worries Cloud might have a concussion, when he keeps complaining of a headache.

"Z...ack?" He smiles encouragingly, and nods not for the first or last time, it looks like. "It's really you. It's really real. When I woke up, you were- I thought..."

He shoves Cloud's shoulder, just lightly on the side where he'd lost his shoulder guard.

"Aw, come on. I'm not that easy to get rid of." He grins, unable to help himself. "It's good to have you back, buddy."

Cloud looks away, mumbles something, and for once Zack's sure his enhanced hearing must've failed on him, even if his sight hasn't, because he's pretty sure he can see a spattering of red on those too-pale cheeks of his.

"What was that?"

Aerith giggled, and the red crept higher. Zack started to suspect he hadn't misheard at all.

"I sorta told Tifa I was a SOLDIER like you and I might've helped get us all into a lot of trouble. I didn't tell them I was you, though," Cloud added quickly, as if that made things any better.

"So," Aerith said, once the embarrassment and laughter had worn off a little, "does this mean I have two bodyguards now instead of just one?"

Zack puts a hand to his heart in mock pain.

"Cloud, I'm demoted. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder never spent five years away from Aerith. You come back and you go from boyfriend to bodyguard."

Cloud huffs out a surprised laugh, and Zack wonders if it's the first he's had since waking up from his coma.

...

"Huh.... so this is where you'd all ended up. We were startin' to wonder, y'know? All that effort we put in." 

Aerith, Zack thinks, is the only one who looks calm, and in his opinion she looks too calm. Or maybe he's misreading her and she's just dealt with enough Turks to not think she should be intimidated by Reno.

"All what effort you put in? I made it this far, didn't I?"

Reno snorts, rolls his eyes, laughs. 

"Yeah, you damn well did. Funny how you had a clear path. Shame we got called off to something more important, or we'd have given you a right welcome, too. Should thank Tseng and Cissnei for that. But, hey! That's then and this is now. Nothing personal, yo?"

Still confused, Zack's grip on his sword tightens.

Nothing personal, he thinks. You're just finishing the job. It never was the army I had to worry about, like I thought.

They get away again, though, and Reno's words rattle around in his head for far too long, until they're forgotten in place of other, more important and more terrifying things.

...

AN: I don't know if I'm going to add more to this, but - this is the one ship that I really ship here, and I might do some AU scenes from main game canon just because this means I can. 'Cause, all I needed was the foundation work for anything to make sense.

And there's never enough Zack Lives AUs.

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori shares a meal with Rafaela Rizzo.

Momori is seemingly passed out in front of a barrel drum hobo fire.

Rafaela came stamping by, each footstep thudding heavily on the stonework, before she stopped, and spotted Momori. A few more tenative steps, and she drew closer, before intoning, "Hey, you good? You, uh... need a blanket, or something?"

Momori - Upon closer inspection, Rizzo would be able to notice that Momori is, in fact, breathing. Sleeping like a dead person. But despite how eerily still she is, the lalafell wakes up the moment Rizzo says something. She jolts into a defensive stance, weapons drawn at lightning speed.

Momori: “Who’s there?!”

Rafaela does flinch from the newly found power stance, nor from the drawn weapons. She does, however, blink once, and stare blankly at Momori. "Alright," she says, sounding bemused. She continued to stare, before saying, "You hungry?"

Momori gives Rizzo a hard look (which, in reality, is her base expressionless face with 1% of spicy mixed into it). Wordlessly, she sheaths her daggers. “Rizzo, right? I’ve seen you around.” Momori looks slightly red, though she shows not a ilm of embarrassment otherwise. “I could do with some food.”

Rafaela gave her a curt nod. "That's me. C'mon." She turned on her heel and started her heavy, deliberate march away. "I don't think I caught your name in the times I've seen you around. But I'm not the best at names to begin with."

Momori: “Momori,” she says, as she follows the other woman. Rizzo’s pace is just slightly slower than her own, and so every so often she stops, or walks in a meandering zigzag, to ensure she doesn’t overtake her.

Rafaela came around the campsite, and to a small fire, way off to the side, that was definitely here. She set about stoking the flames, and dealing with some foodstuffs set nearby. "Your armor looks from the far east," she said, as the fire started coming back alive. "What's up with that."

Momori looks longingly at the various foods that Rizzo has laid out. She could appreciate someone who responded to unconscious acquaintances with free food. “Oh, my armor? It certainly is inspired by shinobi wear, but it’s actually made in Ul’dah.” She holds up her sleeve. “That’s what’s up.”

Rafaela made a face. "Ul'dah," she echoed, the way someone would, when saying the name of an ex-lover. "You from there? I grew up in that city." She went about pushing some dodo meat onto a skewer and placing it over the fire.

Momori nods. She picks up on Rizzo’s sentiment, and gives her a small, knowing smile in response. “It’s home. And it’s nice meeting someone else who feels that way too out here, though something tells me you may think otherwise.”

Momori kneels down to the fire to watch the kabob cook. Flames flicker in the reflection of her vacant, glassy eyes.

Rafaela scoffed once, but then simmered somewhat. "Me and the Jewel of the Desert don't have the happiest history. You know how it can be. Don't have money already, the chances of getting it are slim." She went around preparing other fixings as she let the meat roast over the fire.

Momori doesn’t say anything, silence given as a quiet understanding. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you make it out then? So many times I’ve seen the poor fall deeper into poverty. Into Monetarists schemes and exploitation.” Momori seems distant.

Rafaela hummed, as she still worked through the process of making Momori a meal. "I got out in a way I wouldn't ask most people. I had to serve a sentence in the Bloodsands. When I got out, I had a decent enough reputation, that I finally found work as a bodyguard and mercenary. So I just. Did that. Which isn't feasible for people with gentle dispositions or frail constitutions. So hardly a universal experience."

Momori ‘s lips draw into a thin frown. “Ah, the Bloodsands. A cruel and unforgiving place. I do what I can to help the less fortunate in Ul’dah but…” Momori shrugs. “There are days I wonder if the city will forever remain a broken cycle. Of the rich and poor. Perhaps the only way forward is to tear it all down and start over.”

Momori: “But these are just the random musings of a single lalafell. So, what’s for dinner?”

Rafaela sighed a little. "I'd not be against tearing it all down," was all she said on the matter. At the question, she turned back to Momori and answered. "Roasted bird, with an herb rub. I was just in Ul'dah, so expect a taste from home, if you will. Should be decently spicy." She plucked the skewer off of the fire, then, and started the next process of adding Raubahn's Twelve Herbs and Spices.

Momori: “OH.” Momori’s eyes widen slightly. “Nice.”

Momori simply watches Rizzo hard at work, but there’s something itching away at the back of Momori’s mind. What is the protocol for building trust in these situations? Ah, yes. “Do you need any assistance?”

(Momori) nice B) (Rafaela) lmfao (Rafaela) I love her (Momori) *reads off script* how do you do fellow human

Rafaela replied easily, "Nah," as she now let the bird breasts sit somewhere to cool a little. She maintained a steady wall, in a way, not really letting Momori in too much. "What do you do on the Voyage, anyhow," she asked, moving to sit down properly.

Momori: “Fine with me.” Momori wraps her arms around her knees, gloved hands clasped. Content to simply consume. “Oh, I’m a part of the research team. Looking over artifacts, recording keeping, all things that place slowly in dim light. Fun.” She actually seems serious about it being fun, despite her wording.

Momori: “What about yourself? Guard of some sort? Here just because Livia is?”

Rafaela said, with no hint of irony, "I'm a student." She rose, and promptly made two servings of the spiced bird, and then walked around the fire, and held out a plate for Momori, before plopping down next to her. "Livia joined before I did, and for her own reasons. I'm just learning family traditions from Nathaniel."

Momori takes the plate and begins to dig in. A genuine smile spreads on her face as the familiar flavors comfort her like an old, and deeply missed, friend. She scarfs it down like some feral gremlin.

Momori: “Oh, traditions. Cool.” She says between bites, mouth full. “Have you seen the Father lately though? Man’s been through the ringer. Can’t imagine he’s able to teach for now.”

Rafaela ate much the same way Momori did, as she considered her question. "No, I haven't seen him. He's denied most visitors." She paused in her meal, to look off to the side. "And in fairness, he's not really been teaching me Ahsan traditions for some time now. Things got very pressing, very quickly. I'm fine with it. I'm a better basher than a student."

Momori: “I figured as much. He’s lucky to be alive.” Momori takes a momentary respite from inhaling food. “Things still /are/ pressing. We’ve suffered losses, the enemy has the Heart. We’re without clear direction. But we’ll see what happens.”

Momori hums to herself. “A basher. I never would’ve guessed.” She gives the exceedingly POWERFUL woman a glance.

Rafaela gave a small laugh, though there was little humor in it. "I know I looked more like a poet, from the start." She picked at her food a moment, considering the woman's words. "We'll get the Heart back, I'm sure of it. At the very least, we will deprive them of it. I know more or less what Nathaniel hopes for, but my own preference is for no one to have the damn thing, and for it to be rendered inert."

Momori: “I never judge based on appearances. But you seem to me like a gentle songbird, who would play instruments most delicate.” Momori tilts her head slightly, mischievous energy abound.

Momori ponders Rizzo’s last statement. “The Heart could be used for great evil or great good. It depends on who wields it. We should not waste that potential.”

Rafaela huffed, once. "If it's used for good today, it'll be used for evil, tomorrow. The work of the Allagans has only planted seeds for men of weak dispositions to wield their toys with all the pride and ignorance of a toddler. It might not ruin our day, if we keep it in 'good' hands, but it could very easily ruin someone else's, years down the line."

Momori shakes her head. “That potential for good outweighs any cost. To shift the status quo, or bring succor to deserving communities. Which is why we need to get the Heart back soon.” Momori looks down at her now empty plate. “Thanks for the food, by the way! Let me make something for you next time.”

Rafaela clearly and visibly disagreed, but left it at that. "You're welcome,"  came another curt reply. "If you feel so inclined, I'd be fine with that." She shifted, a little, setting her plate aside. "For now, I'm going to tend to some work that needs doing. You can stick around, if you want, or not. Up to you."

[aerithsaves]

New ship Tag: Aeris and Cloud Take to the Skies

Why a new tag? As suggested, a new tag for positive posts about the two characters might help with the current resurgence of LTD discussions, people telling other people to get over the LTD/that they don’t care about the LTD/can’t we all just get along, and other assorted strife the pairing frequently gets saddled with. So, here is my suggestion (and I will try and post some stuff to get it started).

Why this tag name? A lot of posts, tags, blog titles and so on fixate on the relationship or the character’s roles within FFVII and associated media which feels quite limiting. Instead of that, I would like the focus to be more on alternate universe ideas (because canon) and new adventures/outcomes/opportunities. Specifically I’m also trying to invoke Aeris’s interest in the Highwind and Cloud’s willingness to help her fly in it – something they never did, but could have if things had turned out differently.

So. New tag. I can’t really dictate rules or anything but please:

Yes

Aeris/Cloud as a couple (focus on the pairing)

Reasonably obvious, but please try and feature them both equally or focus on them together for the most part. Please try to avoid Tifa’s death being part of the setup (yes I am guilty of this, but not doing that kind of thing anymore)

Aeris/Cloud casual hook-up

It can just be sex, not love. Sex-friends, one-night stands, past lovers who meet up again, etc are all fine.

Aeris & Cloud as friends (if this does involve another ship, then focus should be on their interactions more so than the ship)

Platonic shipping is important. I can’t remember who said it, but why not ship two characters in every sense – not just romantically. This includes work colleagues if that makes a difference to you

Aeris/Cloud as part of a polyamorous configuration (though focus should be on the two of them or equal across participants)

With Tifa, with Zack, with Zack, Tifa & Sephiroth, with whoever!

Aeris/Cloud as a couple after past relationships (the two of them moving on together)

The past relationships is likely to be Zerith all things considered (please do not bash that ship), but in AU anything is possible. Please do not use this as an excuse to attack Cloti.

Aeris /Cloud as a couple prior to other relationships (the focus has to be on the two of them again though)

The pairing breaking up/Cloud moving on with Tifa or someone else is fine, but please don’t use this as an excuse for spite and attack the Aeris/Cloud pairing or whatever the subsequent one is. Also please demonstrate why the relationship was good before it fell apart. No doomed relationships from the start please.

FFVII (1997)

Naturally. The best resource for Aeris’s character and her interactions with Cloud. Plenty to draw on; meeting after the first mission, falling into the church (more so If you ignore Crisis Core), the bodyguard deal, staying the night, Aeris walking Cloud home, Wall Market as a whole, rescuing Aeris from Shinra, party make-up as they start travelling (if you select her), talking about the Highwind, talking at Costa del Sol, Gongaga (if she’s in your party), Aeris learning about the Cetra at Cosmo Canyon, stealing the Tiny Bronco (if she’s in your party), Gold Saucer date (if the outcome), party make-up for the Temple of the Ancients, Cloud’s dream, Aeris’s final smile.

FF Tactics

The flower girl might have no name, but the reference is clear. Life in Ivalice: go!

Kingdom Hearts

I haven’t been keeping track that well, but I get the impression Cloud wasn’t actually looking for Aeris this whole time (as clarified by Final Mix). Feel free to disregard this (AUs!). Subject to future change obviously, but KH and KH2 offer a few, small interactions for now.

Advent Children

Fine if Aeris is alive via some mechanism (AU, resurrection, whatever).

Future Releases

Eg. FFVII Remake. The only requirement for shipping is both characters are alive and well in the same time period and actually meet (crack-shipping does mean you can skip both these requirements, but in general they are helpful). So even if the Remake or some other spin-off canonises or appears to canonise a pairing, this is no reason to ship or not ship something or to no longer enjoy the pairing. Take the positives. You can ship a character with more than one other character even if the relationships are mutually exclusive!

No

Proof of canon/Proof of ship superiority

It does not matter. You like what you ship. They like what they ship. You are incredibly unlikely to change their minds no matter what the argument/evidence and vice versa. Original authorial intentions, accidental canon, retcons, change of writers; doesn’t matter! Stick to the ship and your interest in it. Canon is completely optional.

Digs at other ships involving one or both characters

As above. Please don’t trash a linked ship for any reason, and don’t accuse them of abuse or anything similar

No self-sacrifice, no suicide, no love beyond death – keep them both alive for the relationship

Given Aeris’s plotline (near certain to remain the same in the Remake) it’s preferable to not have Cloud perpetually mourning/unable to cope (or if Aeris is doing this if an inversion setup is your thing). Positive remember? Cloud can be deeply into Aeris and then move on after as above, and again AUs allow you to ignore the tragedy.

Ultimania/interview quotes/latest translation controversy (whatever it happens to be when you read this)

Even if the authorship of the books were certain (that detail is very iffy), post-canon releases/explanations tend to shut down avenues of speculation rather than leaving them open/giving more scope for exploration. Plus there’s at least one language barrier and scope to slant a translation any way you want. Also half the time the ‘canon’ of these books is less statement of fact and more leading speculation/unused ideas from development. So none of that please. 

Also the notion of pre-planning everything is very much in vogue and people like to think writers always do this, so naturally there is a tendency to imply or assume pre-planning from writers. What they say afterwards does not have to affect anything. Also language barrier again. Translators also have biases – both admitted and unconscious – and good translations are more art than science. A translation into any other language does not have more weight than the original or any other translation.

No Tifa bashing of any kind

Tifa is not an obstacle to be overcome or removed. She is a character in her own right, and if Aeris and Cloud are paired together this should provide opportunities for development for her that does not involve Cloud as much (or it can totally. Cloud and Tifa can be amazing friends. 

Please don’t just pair Tifa up with someone else to neaten things up (and if you decide to put her with Barret you should also feel obligated to develop that ship) or just leave her on her own because you don’t like her). Aeris was/is Tifa’s friend. If Cloud hates Tifa/Tifa hates Cloud or Aeris then you are doing this wrong.

Parallels to other FFs/media

Running themes in FFs tend to extend to Cid, Chocobos, Moogles, spell/summon names and crystals. There are occasionally other character/similar place names used more than once. But. Childhood friends to lovers is not a huge focus of the series (the majority of main couples do not express this trope). Neither is love after death. 

But even if these were recurring and important motifs the piggy-backing of one pairing on a different game’s pairing is somewhat frustrating and should be avoided (plus: Rinoa/Squall is more of a mix of Aeris/Cloud and Tifa/Cloud than either of them in isolation. I have reasons). In addition, something from a different fandom who seem to share parallels with the ship has little bearing on the ship itself (but could be inspiration for an AU)

Racism, sexism, bigotry of any kind

Just no.

Cheating

To clarify on the Aeris/Cloud after another relationship or before another relationship or the casual hook-ups – please do not have one or other cheat on their partner with another character (whoever this would turn out to be). Nor should this ever be the reason for the relationship breaking down, and no undiscovered adultery either please.

 So if you want to be positive about the pairing – and are able to do so in a manner that does not involve taking pot-shots at more popular pairings (as much as this may be painful to admit if you’re into this pairing, we are in a minority and this might not change) – please use this tag.

[miraclesindecnovel]

CPT 002: Lucky One

"I couldn’t believe myself that I have changed this much."

Taeyang rushed into the classroom, throwing his backpack on top of the table and roughly launched his butt on the chair, only to fall backwards a moment later with surprised shout coming from his pale pink lips, making yet another mess. "What the...," he growled under his breath, furious of falling right into the next prank played on him by schoolmates. Although he tried to get up, the long haired boy understood quickly that his black uniform pants were stuck on the chair and there was no other way out of this situation other than get half-naked right in front of everyone. He sure wasn't keen on that idea, but there was no other solution to this, thus he mentally prepared himself, but instead taking action right away, he shouted from the top of his lungs, knowing that those that played him were nearby, enjoying the aftermath of sucsessful prank. "Whoever thought it was a good idea, know that I will find you and break couple of useful bones!"

Struggling to get up, he had managed to draw quite an audience around himself, some were disgusted, while some were more amused than it was actually healthy. With angry growl, Taeyang' right foot hit against the table and made it fall over along with his navy blue backbag, letting all the pencils, books, study papers and snack wrappers fly up in the air and land around him. Oh, he wasn't happy, and felt that he was in a need of getting out of this stupid school with all these little foolish lambs, who followed those that were able to pretend to be the strongest. For the past five years, Taeyang had been playing the role of a good citizen, without remembering clearly of whom he actually used to be. His whole life was fabrication, and he was going to prove it. He was going to find his true self one day.

"What are you looking at? Is it that fun to watch a fellow classmate suffering, uh?" He was known to be a big talker, someone who made dramatic fuss over nothing - but people didn't know that there was always a reason to become extra over matters of the bullies leaving their original marks alone and turn their bloodthirsty attention towards Taeyang instead. No, he didn't enjoy the attention he recieved and although he had promised to keep a low profile as entering Hwarang High School, his gene for justice wasn't able to tolerate the injustice for too long. From a new kid to a trouble maker - that journey was fast, and in matter of weeks he had claimed his throne in this hierarcy that was played out in his school.

Luckily his guardian, Yoo Timothy, was living overseas, so everything he would ever do or be blamed for, would fall for the deaf ears. This old man didn't really care about his wellbeing much, and checked on him rarely, knowing that the house Taeyang lived in had all the things one would ever need to live, breathe and be healthy. Although he was frequently visiting Hwarang' principal, the only person to take the role of a 'father' was his so called driver and bodyguard, whom he had the tendency to ditch and leave, while kid himself was having fun on his own accord. Even then, it didn't change anything for him.

"Not again," one of the classmates spoke in reply, disgust being evident in her face, "why are you making such a big deal out of this anyhow?" "Yeah, like you didn't ask for it yourself after stepping out for Stinky," another one pitched in. "Shut up, you evil fox-faced witches!" Taeyang was pissed off, and although he had expected a good start for the day, there he was - laying on top of the broken chair and being humiliated like this. Oh he wasn't going to let them slide like this, he really wasn't going to stay still now! Able to hoam the situation he was in currently, he had quickly understood that someone had sawed the legs of his chair and on top of all things had added glue to his seat. This indeed meant one solution and one only. Smirking to himself, he took a breath and with loud yelp, Taeyang wriggled himself out of his pants and was momentarily thinking to himself that in the past month these had been seventh pair he had ruined. With this, he revealed himself completely and stood up, feeling victorious, but the smile quickly disappeared as he heard what the girls around him had to pitch in. "Cover yourself, oh my god!" "When did boys wear pink? Jeez, it is so bright!" "Ugh, pervert!" "Super gross!" "So the rumors are true, you really are..." "...into boys, aren't you?"

Taeyang face became pale, the more he listened to this scene rolling out in front of him. When he was about to speak up, another voice that he knew all to well spoke and the face followed soon after, as the boy behind this masterplan appeared in front of his newest victim. "From a class joker into a flower boy' pet," the bully spilled mockingly, laughing. "I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour from a lowlife like you anymore," Taeyang was fast to reply, hearing a gasp here and there, but he didn't let them bother him. "Your choice of fashion tells a different story, pest." Word 'pest' was spat out as if it was poison, and this made Taeyang act out the way he had never acted out before. His blood was boiling, and his naturally dark eyes flashed into neon blue for a mere moment. The ruler, which he picked up in front of his feet swiftly, was on the throat of the other boy faster than a lightning and the 'pest' had grabbed other boy' hair into a tight grip. Students around them scattered like flies, scared from the unexpected turn of events.

That particular word had brought sudden flashbacks to his mind, and made him react unconsciously, ready to cut off the neck right there and then, but somehow he managed to still hold his sane mind intact. "Park Daewon," he hissed through his squeezed teeth, ruler extremely tight against the prey' neck and his own face very close to Daewon's, "if I ever, EVER hear you say that word again, I will not hesitate to actually... Brake. Your. Bones." The blue that showed itself in his eyes again came back during the last three words, and Taeyang could sense Daewon being extremely scared, as the kid was shivering in his grasp. "Do. You. Understand?" he hissed again, waiting for the reply. "I....," Daewon spoke, shivering and thinking only of how to get out of this situation alive. "Well?" "I.... understand... Yes... I... understand," the one being embarassed managed to squeak out some of the words and didn't even dare to swallow, in case his neck ended up being cut. "Good boy, now fetch," Taeyang ordered Daewon and pushed him away from his grip, and was about to say something else, pointing at other students around him, but his homeroom teacher interrupted. "What is going on? What do you think you are doing?" "Sir, Taeyang went crazy and would've killed Daewon, if you hadn't come at this moment!" One of the girls rushed to blame the one that was actually the victim and pointed at Taeyang in pink boxers, standing in the middle of the class and holding onto a ruler, his own skin cut by the intense strength. Blood was slowly sliding across the edge of the transparent item in his hand, but it was unnoticed by everyone else. "Is that true, Young Master?" He was questioned, and although he was mostly respected by the teachers, they always thought that it was the best to just send him to the principal's office, who would give him a small, kind lecture. "Is that true?" Teacher asked again, but with no reply and cold, intense stare from Yoo Taeyang, he sighed and shook his head. "Alright. Don't show your face to school for a week. Everyone else, clean up that mess. We won't start the class before this has been cleared. Chop-chop."

Taeyang, so out of himself, dropped ruler on the floor and left the classroom into the hallway. Although for some kids, he was as if somekind hero protecting the weak, no one else was fearless enough to go against Daewon and his minions so openly before, humiliating the Little Boss in the means of never being forgiven. He had just done that, and strangely enough - he was feeling quite satisfied. Indeed, the other kids never showed it, but they were grateful for having at least somewhat peaceful days at school after Taeyang had come around.

This seventee-year old was about to head down the stairs, when he suddenly stopped as something had caught his attention. Turning to look outside, the long haired boy with unearthly face understood that it was that day of the year again. The day, when he was replaced; the day he lost most of his memories; the very same day, when first snow of the winter had fallen on same day for the past five years. Standing there for quite some time in the midst of empty hallway, faint sounds echoing from classrooms. Standing there in his light blue shirt, golden vest, black jacket with Hwarang High School logo on the collar; expensive, worn out sneakers and bright, silky pink boxers.

Staring back at his own reflection from those falling snowflakes on the other side of the glass, he turned to go and find something to wear, when he suddenly placed the hurt palm against the glass, leaving a bloodstained handprint behind.

His mark, disappeared as it became covered with growing snow-flowers and dissolved into the air, becoming nothing else than a memory. It was the day, when everything had started five years ago...