Bad Luck
Fandom: D.N. Angel
Title: Bad Luck
Summary: Everyone has bad luck. Dark is luckier than most, but even his luck fails him at the worst of times.
Pairings: Eeh.. None.
Warnings: See above
A/N: No clue why I wrote this. It's still cute, though, right? ^_^() Wrtten in about... Two hours, give or take. And that's in between eating dinner, being annoyed by dad and getting some angry kitty cats some more food.
Everyone has bad luck. Daisuke, poor kid, seems to be a favorite target of fickle fate; the boy’s forever tripping on nothing, or dropping something extremely breakable. That's the reason Emiko banned him from helping with the dishes.
Even Dark Mousy, a fortunate and graceful phantom thief for untold centuries, has bad luck sometimes.
Normally, his bad luck is something small-a missed step down a flight of stairs during a heist, or an unnoticed trap suddenly springing to life. At very, very rare times, it’s someone enjoying the routine ‘tackle the bandit’ a little too much. He never has been able to think about that one for long-it’s a little too much, even for him.
Normally, it’s something to laugh at when he’s back home, safe and sound.
Normally, he has good luck. But never has Dark’s luck failed him so thoroughly as this; he was lying, helpless with pain, at his mortal enemy’s feet, biting his tongue to keep from crying out even as the thief tried to curl into a ball in a last ditch endeavor to defend himself.
‘Tried’ is the keyword here, because Dark’s muscles were too exhausted to do more than shudder feebly with every attempt to move.
Helplessly, Dark looked up at the blonde hunter standing over him, blinking away the pained tears in his eyes, panting and gasping in worn-out fear. When he recognized the expression in the feline eyes, he whimpered.
“Oh, gods… please… don’t…”
He was begging. Dark knew it, and so did the hunter. Smirking at the pitiful plea, the exquisite vision of death incarnate stepped forward, a single snow white feather appearing in his fingers as he did so.
Another whine escaped Dark as the hunter knelt in front of him, one gloved hand reaching out to cup his cheek.
“Why, Dark,” the hunter purred, letting his hand drift down to circle the thief’s throat before grabbing his wrists in a gentle, commanding grip. Still sympathetic to the other’s fear, the blonde forced Dark’s weakened body to the ground.
The feather was drifting downwards slowly, hovering over the thief’s ribs threateningly; his captor leaned closer, warm breath fanning over his face lightly.
Panicking, Dark clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see the look on the hunter’s angelic face.
This is it, he thought wildly, hypersensitive skin sensing the soft feather’s slow descent. This is the end...!
And then the feather was stroking along his sides, making him gasp and buck in a helpless effort to be rid of tickling sensation, chest muscles aching anew from the shrieking laughs that escaped him.
Krad watched, amused, as Dark cracked his head against the ground; the thief was still giggling, even after the hunter stopped moving the feather.
“Honestly. I had no idea that you were so… Ticklish.”
Title: Bad Luck
Summary: Everyone has bad luck. Dark is luckier than most, but even his luck fails him at the worst of times.
Pairings: Eeh.. None.
Warnings: See above
A/N: No clue why I wrote this. It's still cute, though, right? ^_^() Wrtten in about... Two hours, give or take. And that's in between eating dinner, being annoyed by dad and getting some angry kitty cats some more food.
Everyone has bad luck. Daisuke, poor kid, seems to be a favorite target of fickle fate; the boy’s forever tripping on nothing, or dropping something extremely breakable. That's the reason Emiko banned him from helping with the dishes.
Even Dark Mousy, a fortunate and graceful phantom thief for untold centuries, has bad luck sometimes.
Normally, his bad luck is something small-a missed step down a flight of stairs during a heist, or an unnoticed trap suddenly springing to life. At very, very rare times, it’s someone enjoying the routine ‘tackle the bandit’ a little too much. He never has been able to think about that one for long-it’s a little too much, even for him.
Normally, it’s something to laugh at when he’s back home, safe and sound.
Normally, he has good luck. But never has Dark’s luck failed him so thoroughly as this; he was lying, helpless with pain, at his mortal enemy’s feet, biting his tongue to keep from crying out even as the thief tried to curl into a ball in a last ditch endeavor to defend himself.
‘Tried’ is the keyword here, because Dark’s muscles were too exhausted to do more than shudder feebly with every attempt to move.
Helplessly, Dark looked up at the blonde hunter standing over him, blinking away the pained tears in his eyes, panting and gasping in worn-out fear. When he recognized the expression in the feline eyes, he whimpered.
“Oh, gods… please… don’t…”
He was begging. Dark knew it, and so did the hunter. Smirking at the pitiful plea, the exquisite vision of death incarnate stepped forward, a single snow white feather appearing in his fingers as he did so.
Another whine escaped Dark as the hunter knelt in front of him, one gloved hand reaching out to cup his cheek.
“Why, Dark,” the hunter purred, letting his hand drift down to circle the thief’s throat before grabbing his wrists in a gentle, commanding grip. Still sympathetic to the other’s fear, the blonde forced Dark’s weakened body to the ground.
The feather was drifting downwards slowly, hovering over the thief’s ribs threateningly; his captor leaned closer, warm breath fanning over his face lightly.
Panicking, Dark clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see the look on the hunter’s angelic face.
This is it, he thought wildly, hypersensitive skin sensing the soft feather’s slow descent. This is the end...!
And then the feather was stroking along his sides, making him gasp and buck in a helpless effort to be rid of tickling sensation, chest muscles aching anew from the shrieking laughs that escaped him.
Krad watched, amused, as Dark cracked his head against the ground; the thief was still giggling, even after the hunter stopped moving the feather.
“Honestly. I had no idea that you were so… Ticklish.”