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kikiiswashere · 5 months

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Terms of Agreement - Chapter 1

When my bestie, @sand-sea-and-fable, asks for Zaundad smut, she gets Zaundad smut. However, I am gonna do it my way and make it longer than necessary. So a little, baby novella it is! Here's chapter 1!

Summary: Silco gets back from a successful dangerous mission, and all he wants is to celebrate with Vander. However, Vander himself has his own duties for the cause he must attend to, leaving Silco feeling jealous and lonely. Luckily, Vander has ways to remind him that while he is committed to a free Zaun, he is also committed to Silco. Rocking his world should do the trick.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Established Vander/Silco

Further Content Warning: open relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, toxic behavior

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Silco’s body ached deeply, and his heart was light. The mission had been successful. He had gotten what he set out for, but getting back across the River had been more treacherous than he anticipated. An alarm he wasn’t aware of had been tripped, and a unit of Enforcers had chased him. He’d managed to escape by slipping under a sewer grate and wading through shit back into the Undercity. He had since trekked out of the drains and into Zaun’s burgeoning nightlife. He kept to the shadows and side streets and limped back home.

To The Last Drop.

To Vander.

His heart warmed further at the thought of his partner, and he quickened his steps. The duffle slung across his back rustled with his boon: several file folders from the Clockwork Vault in Piltover. Account numbers, secrets, and other priceless information about the Topside elite at his and the revolution’s fingertips. They could hold the information for ransom; sell it to the highest bidder on the black market; or even keep it and exploit it for themselves.

The mission had been dangerous, but the information was worth it. It would give Zaun opportunity. Vander would see that, would know that; would understand why Silco had felt the need to take on such a risk.

It was all for Zaun.

For their future.

Silco’s heart leapt into his throat at the first glimmer of The Last Drop’s sign. Home! He was almost home! He’d only been gone for a couple days, but he longed for their bed, Vander snuggled tightly against his back. He couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait . . .

His legs groaned as he sped up, carefully maneuvering through the crowd in the square in front of the tavern. He ignored the questioning looks and curled nostrils as he went. He knew he looked a mess: caked in dust, sweat, dirt, shit, and blood. And maybe he should’ve bee-lined for The Drop’s backdoor, going up to their apartment quietly, instead of subjecting patrons to his stink and dishevelment. But he couldn’t bring himself to be away from Vander any longer. Not when he had such exciting news. Such a treasure in his duffle bag.

The Last Drop was bustling and warm. The jumble of many conversations filled the air, and the jukebox spouted a toe-tapping melody. A few fellow revolutionaries noticed Silco enter the bar, and they raised their tankards to him, eying his appearance with interest, amusement, and a small amount of disgust. He gave them a small nod before inclining his head toward the bar. Vander was not behind it – Benzo was – and Silco’s lower lip pouted forward. His blue eyes scoured the room, expecting to see the Hound tending to a table. But, again, he was nowhere to be seen. His heart disappointingly settled back into his chest. He carefully wound through The Drop’s table and chairs, eyes still searching.

Just as he was about to skirt around the bar and continue his search in the storerooms, the sound of Vander’s deep, rumbling laugh stopped Silco in his tracks. He turned toward the chuckle, and his heart plummeted. Tucked into the shadows of one of The Drop’s booths, Vander sat with the Madame of one of the Promenade brothels – one that was infamous for servicing Topside elite. One large arm was slung across the bench behind her shoulders, his body turned towards her own. She smiled up at his handsome face, swirling the glass of wine in her hand.

Silco’s fist tightened around the sling of his bag and he grimaced. This wasn’t an unusual sight. They had agreed to this, after all. While he would scheme and steal to move their cause forward, Vander would use his clout and likeability to get useful information and materials. Sometimes geniality led to flirting; sometimes flirting led to fucking – whatever it took to help Zaun.

They had agreed. Vander’s dalliances meant nothing. They were strictly business.

“It can’ touch what we have, Sil,” he would say. And seal that promise with a kiss.

And yet.

And yet . . .

And yet each time Silco was faced with it, it made his skin crawl with jealousy and his heart wall-up. Now was no exception. He had just gotten home from an incredibly dangerous mission, was beaten, sore, and covered in grime, and all he wanted to do was share his success with his partner. Instead, his partner was flirting with a Madame.

The rational part of his brain reminded him that Vander was just doing his job, his part to see Zaun succeed.

The emotional part was fed up with sharing Vander in this way. Despite it being very useful and lucrative for the revolution, Vander sharing beds with others left their own feeling cold. The sight of bitemarks and hickeys on Vander’s chest and neck – not left by Silco’s own mouth – sent his blood boiling. Even more so when Vander didn’t seem to understand why him covered in love notes from others would bother him.

They had agreed, after all.

Suddenly, Vander’s silver eyes flicked over to Silco’s icy ones. They widened at the sight of him, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise. Before he could do much else, Silco glared at him and stalked towards the backrooms, his pleased mood fouled. He stomped through the hallway and down the stairs to their living quarters, leaving the merriness of the tavern behind. Sinking into the dark of their basement home. Into the dark of his bruised and tired heart.

Thirty minutes later, the Madame pecked Vander on the cheek good-bye, squeezed his thick thigh, and made him promise to visit her soon. Being the man-of-the-people he was, he agreed. But the moment she turned away, his eyes snapped to the door Silco had disappeared behind, heavy brow dropping. He glanced around the tavern, and then to Benzo behind the bar. They caught each other’s eye, and Vander strode over.

Benzo leaned over the counter and murmured, “I got the rest fer t’night. I can close up. You go check on, Silco.”

“Thanks, ‘Zo,” Vander said, patting his friend’s forearm, and making his way off the main floor.

The cheery clamor of the tavern fell away, and was replaced by the distant stomping of feet and slamming of cabinet doors. Vander’s lips thinned and he sighed, continuing toward the sounds of his perturbed partner.

Their apartment beneath The Last Drop was lit with the same warm lights as the bar. Like the space above, it created a sense of coziness; washes of yellow and orange coating their mismatched furniture. However, the homey atmosphere was greatly defeated by Silco’s moody banging. Vander sighed and trudged through the living room to the kitchenette.

Silco shuffled angrily from side-to-side of the galley style kitchen, putting away dishes Vander had left on the counter.

“I didn’ know you’d be back t’night,” Vander said. He received a grunt in response. “Did’ya get what you were after?”

Silco slammed a cupboard door shut before reaching for his bag. He ripped it open and carelessly tossed the files on the counter near Vander. He then reached for their icebox and wrenched open its door. Tentatively, Vander’s fingers reached for the files, but his eyes stayed on his partner. Silco withdrew a bowl covered with a rag out of the cooler. He lifted the cloth, sniffed, and deemed the smell acceptable, tossing the rag into the sink before tucking into the leftovers with his fingers.

While he ate – making those sounds that made Vander’s skin crawl – the larger man drew the folders toward him. He flipped through them, eyes scanning all the names and numbers. And coin amounts. His eyes widened and his full lips spread into a grin.

“Damn, Sil.”

Another grunt. With a wet food sound on the end of it. Vander winced.

“You okay? Yer not hurt, are you?” Vander asked, unclear why Silco was in such a mood.

Instead of answering, Silco finished his meal and tossed the bowl into the sink with a loud clatter. Vander’s wince deepened, and he fixed his partner with a serious look as he stepped closer.

“Sil,” he cooed softly, stretching a hand out.

Silco batted it away and snarled. “Don’t. I’m dirty.”

Vander chuckled. “I can see that. Ye don’ smell too good either.”

Silco finally looked at him, and the hurt in his eyes took Vander’s breath away. Beyond tears and weary. They held each other’s gaze for seconds that felt like hours – Silco utterly wounded, Vander wholly confused.

Finally, Silco shouldered past his partner and headed for their bathroom. He peeled his filthy shirt off as he went, and let it fall to the floor in a heavy flumf. He slammed the door shut and Vander jumped. His eyes fell to the dirty shirt on their clean floor. The sound of the shower sputtering to life filled the deadly quiet apartment.

He thought back to the look Silco had given him in the bar. The distaste and betrayal on his thin face. Vander frowned and shook his shaggy head, his stomach coiling in frustration.

They had agreed.

Silco did dangerous missions. And Vander fucked information and resources out of people.

They. Had. Agreed.

He was tired of arguing about this. Of Silco’s pissy, possessive moods. Tired of convincing him time and time again that the trysts meant nothing other than work. Vander sighed, setting his hands on his hips, and letting his chin flop toward his chest. After a moment, his eyes lifted again to the shirt between him and the bathroom. He heard the water thrumming against Silco’s lithe body. A sly smile curled Vander’s mouth. Perhaps words were not the way to convince his partner. Perhaps action would prove to whom his heart truly belonged.

Vander strode forward, scooping up the shirt as he went, and entered the bathroom.

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Notes: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please comment and reblog!

I'm hoping to have the next chapter up tomorrow or Saturday

Coming Up Next: SHOWER SMUT

#zaundads #silco #vander #vanco #mdni #arcane #zaundads fanfic #silco x vander #young silco #young vander #gay love #smut

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ulteriorm0tiv3s · 2 years

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₊˚⊹🍫﹕snowy greetings﹒˚₊

❧ pairing: dark choco x reader (gender neutral)

❧ genre: fluff(??? idk what to call this bye)

❧ summary: you wander off from the limits of your kingdom and end up somewhere cold and distant. some random guy, who claimed to be the prince, finds you stranded and almost kills you! how fun.

❧ notes: me when i actually fucking post something ih ny goD HELLO IM SSORRY 😭??? i said i was gonna post more during summer but i literally didn’t and i’m 2 monthz in2 sschool now ☠️ good fucking bye i am not consistent 💋 anyway this is the prequel to blood stained sword! i’ve decided that blood stained sword will bee itz own long ass story with like 2 different plot linez n whatever, therez like 5 more prequel partz after this one (this will prb bee the worst 1 bc i rushed on it bye) ☠️ also ty for the support on blood stained sword btw :] !! reallt glad that people enjoyed it sm !! also also reqz are open !! read pinned 4 more info 🦤༶•┈┈┈┈┈♡┈┈┈┈┈•༶

holy shit. you swore your skin was turning blue from how cold you were. snow was quite literally everywhere, making everything seem so bright and shiny. it felt like mere minutes ago when you were in your kingdom’s property, looking for your mother’s lost cake hound. but now, you had no clue where you were and how you even got here. your kingdom was so vibrant, and this frozen tundra of an area was awful. not a single building was in sight, just large mounds of ice and snow. it was also dead quiet. unbearably quiet. the only sound you could detect was the snow crunching beneath your feet. a small tree was nearby, somehow. it didn’t matter to you how it got there, all you cared about was having something to lean against and regain your strength.

leaning against a random ass tree has never felt better. it’d be better if you didn’t hear snow crunching when you weren’t walking. your first thought was that it was probably just some harmless animal, searching for food in this snowy death trap. however, adrenaline started to slowly rush as a voice called out. you didn’t hear exactly what was said, but still, this person could be a threat. because of the cold, you didn’t have much strength to wield your sword. all you could do was just wait. the sound of crunching snow only grew closer and closer as you waited.

the crunching stopped. right in front of you. you were so busy looking around from spot to spot, you didn’t even notice when the source of the voice was right there. the stranger narrowed his eyes when he was finally face to face with you, gripping his own sword. “who are you? trespassers aren’t welcome here,” his voice had an obviously fake deepness to it, as if he was trying to make himself seem more intimidating. it would be funny to you because of how stupid he sounded, but you were mildly terrified, actually. “trespasser? i don’t even know where the hell i am,” you attempted to scoff, but your throat was so dry and your voice was too shaky. “do you expect me to believe that excuse?” he eyed you suspiciously, “i can see that sword. are you planning some type of assassination?” you felt more annoyed than scared now, was this guy serious? “i’m deadass freezing to death right now, does it look like i’m about to kill someone?” his grip on his sword lightened, but he kept it in front of him.

“watch your language. it is quite disrespectful to speak to a prince with such words,” the supposed prince still had his guard up, displaying cautious behavior towards you. “you? prince?” this guy did not seem like a prince in the slightest. “do you expect me to believe that?” you mocked his tone from earlier, staring directly at him. he seemed more annoyed with your actions, and you felt the same. “listen,” he says, “it’s getting dark. if you truly are just passing through, i’m bringing you back with me.” did you want to trust this guy that almost stabbed you? not really. did you have a choice? not really. “alright. but, if you end up being some wanted serial killer or something, i will—no, i am going to— beat your ass,” you try to ignore the shakiness of your voice, thinking that you could make yourself sound tougher. upon hearing your vulgar language once again, the guy cringes. “follow me.” and with that, he turns around, his milky white armor almost blending into the snow.

…

“finally, dear god,” you sigh, bundling up in the heavy blanket that the bed provided. the prince had brought you to a local inn located within his kingdom, which was surprisingly very nice. he awkwardly spoke up, leaning against the wall like some cool guy would, “do you mind if i ask for your name?” oh, now he wanted to ask your name. after that long and quiet walk here. “only if you tell me yours first,” you were going to cross your arms, but you’d much rather cling onto the blanket. “prince dark choco cookie,” dark choco said with a bow. a small hum came from you as a response. at least you could stop referring to him as ‘guy’ or ‘the guy’ in your head. “and you?”

“oh, right. (Y/N), (prince/princess) of the helios kingdom.” dark choco seemed slightly shocked by the end of your sentence. he gave you a weird look, “you— you’re a (prince/princess) of a kingdom?” both of you were on common ground. firstly, you didn’t like each other so far. secondly, both of you refused to believe that you were royalties. “uh, yea? literally just said that dude,” you say in a matter of fact tone. “oh, that’s…cool,” the look on his face told you he was holding back some stupid sassy remark, your face told him the same thing. “well, since i’ve never heard of your kingdom before, it must be pretty far away. how long were you in the snow exactly?” changing the subject, nice move.

“like 2 hours. and yea, i’d say it’s pretty far. since your kingdom is literally the ice age and my kingdom is 5 feet away from the sun.” dark choco was probably going to say something about being offended, but you weren’t wrong. “what do you mean ‘5 feet away from the sun?’ i think everybody on earthbread would shrivel up if that was the case,” he sounded so confident in what he had just said, but you were going to ruin that. “it…it was a joke. pretty common joke in my kingdom, cause it’s hot as balls there.” dark choco apparently didn’t understand humor, which didn’t really surprise you. “ah, i see. so if you’re so far away from your kingdom, you must’ve been traveling for a long time,” he paused and observed you, pondering on what to say next.

“well,” he started talking again after fidgeting with the ends of his long hair, “depending on how you feel in the morning, we’ll get you back to your kingdom.” oh hell no, you were not staying here until morning. absolutely not. “what? why can’t we just go now? i’m already pretty warm,” you attempted to protest against the prince’s decision, but he wasn’t changing his mind. “you clearly aren’t used to such cold weather,” dark choco began to fidget with his hair again as he spoke, “you’ll freeze as soon as we head out. it’ll be slightly warmer during the day, and navigation will be easier.”

you hated that he was right, but you wouldn’t admit to that. “fine,” sighing, you just agreed to his plans. “alright, i’ll see you in the morning. goodnight.” dark choco left you alone in the unfamiliar room. weirdly, you felt…strange without his presence there. maybe it was because you couldn’t sleep in such a place. a place that was most likely a long way away from your comfortable kingdom. but hey, at least the blanket was really cozy.

…

“(Y/N)?” a voice, that you recognized from last night, spoke with a whisper tone. rather than responding, you just curled up further into the soft covers. your refusal to get up earned you an annoyed groan from dark choco. “i thought you wanted to go home,” his voice hinted that his patience was running thin. the mention of going home made you perk right up, “are we leaving now?” you resisted the urge to pump your fist in the air when dark choco nodded his head. “but, you’ll want to put this on first.” dark choco had what looked like a large coat slung over his shoulder. he handed it to you, “it’ll keep you from, y’know, freezing out there.” it seemed pretty high quality. the material on the inside was very fluffy, and it felt really soft against your skin. dark purple appeared to be the main color scheme, along with a few lighter shades of blue here and there. after you put it on, you gave him a nod, telling him you were ready. he opened the door for you, how nice.

snow was still falling from the sky, though a bit more gently compared to last night. “i stayed up a little late researching your kingdom. i was able to find a map!” dark choco seemed pretty proud of himself, which almost brought a smile to your face. “good, so we won’t get lost. i mean, i hope we won’t,” you awkwardly mumbled that last part quietly. “your kingdom seems interesting, by the way. maybe when we get there, i could look around?” his curiosity of your kingdom surprised you a little. most people tended to avoid your kingdom because of the heat. you shrug, “you probably won’t like the heat, but i guess.” dark choco just laughs, “i can handle anything!” “we’ll see about that.” more small talk started blooming between the two of you as you walked through the thick snow. maybe the prince wasn’t as bad as you originally thought.

#dark choco cookie #dark choco cookie x reader #prince dark choco #prince dark choco cookie #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run self insert #self insert #x reader #cookie run x reader #blood stained sword

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pseudomonacarriea · 2 years

Note

"Ah ... !!?"

'I'll keep him distracted, you can count on me', Zeke had said. Goes to show that she misplaced her trust when it came to keeping Hugo occupied. Why did he have to be so sharp as a whole, and particularly at the worst possible times? And of all things, Phym's holding his hand and giving her a doe-eyed look that lets her know immediately: She told him everything.

And as per usual--It's impossible to be angry with the little humanoid Aragami.

Cake in hand, some frosting on her cheek and overall person from the mixer going a little haywire while she'd been at work--Tessa's resembling a deer in headlights as she stands frozen. If Phym telling him that 'Mommy's working on a surprise for you! But you can't tell anyone!' hadn't been damning enough, the bright 'Happy birthday, Hugo!' in big blue frosting letters was a death sentence.

Happy Belated Birthday Hugo! -- Not Accepting! -- @ardensfides

Pt. 2

Zeke was, by far, the worst out of all of them to keep him distracted. As if he would be able to do it in the first place, should he have arrived back on time. While his best friend next to Tessa, he also knew when something was up with the kid. But then again, maybe this was for the best.

As they walk into the room together, he feels his hand tugged sharply by their daughter. a Looming about the room, Hugo is quick to put what the 'surprise' was she was doing for him. While to some it wasn't much, to him it was more than enough. It's the small things that matter to him, through and through. A soft laugh fills the room as he moved to pick up the Aragami, coming closer to the stunned Hound.

"Is this for me?"

Knowing the answer, he asks nonetheless. Who else held a similar name than his onboard the ship? There's a feeling of cloth being tugged as Phym turns his direction towards the cake that is, now, in front of the three of them.

She really did go all out this year. I even told her that there wasn't a need for it.

Attention returning to her, able to keep Phym distracted by having her look at the sweet and 'keep it in sight', his hand reaches out, once Phym was shifted to one arm, he brushes his thumb over her cheek to remove the frosting. No pause is taken as he tastes it off his finger, keeping his eyes on her.

"--Sweet."

Mummering under his breath so only she can hear, his attention is once again diverted to both of his girls.

"Alright. How about we leave Mommy to finish up and wait outside, like we're suppose to? You can help me open presents if there's any."

Seeing Phym's face light up, he sets her on the ground, a few inches from the counter where the 'surprise' was waiting.

Before he leaves, he distracts her again with asking her to meet him at the door. It's hardly the time to tease her, but instead of teasing, he wants to show his one of many ways of appreciation towards her. Placing a kiss against her cheek, his voice drops to a loving whisper.

"Thank you, Tessa."

-- Knowing better than to push his luck at this moment, he takes his leave with their daughter. Fearing that if he stayed anymore, a repeat of Valentine's Day would occur, and he'd be running out of the kitchen with her chasing him, spatula in hand.

#ardensfides #∘Question #•; hugo: ic #•; A future beyond our imagination is waiting / So let’s grasp tightly to our hope and run ( hugo & tessa )#Hugo's Birthday//#Long post//#∘God Eater Series

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hazbinextgeneration · 1 year

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Hazbin Worlds Collide Ch3

iridescence, Aldo, tristan, and mako belong to Palettepainter. Vaggie, Baxter, and Crymini belong to Vivziepop. Dexter, Angel-Cake, and Gem-stone are mine.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

He stopped in his tracks. His horror striken face didn't go unnoticed by the demons in the lounge. Quickly, he whipped back around and ran back to the basement. "Dexter! What's going on?!" He ignored her as the basement door flew open and he fumbled down the steps. His heart pounding in his chest. His eyes locked in horror at the scene before him. "G-Gemmy?" She laid motionless on the ground as Baxter examined her carefully. Mako was leaning against one of the shelves, breathing heavily, a gun in hand with many cuts lining his body. Aldo stood between the two. Keeping Mako back. He glanced between the bullet wounds on his sister.....and the gun in his hand. "........*grrrr*" The small growl got Baxter's attention as his head snapped up."......Dexter, no!" The wolf didn't listen as he crawled on fours ever so slowly down the rest of the stairs and towards the grey hound. "Dexter! Stop! She's just unconscious!" It did no good as his pupils dialated more and a hellish scream burst out from his open mouth.

Mako fired a round that successfully hit him in the shoulder. For a moment, it worked as he stood there stunned.....but an even louder screech came out from the feral k-9. Mako backed away quickly, falling over in the process to escape the rabid blue wolf. In a state of panic, he fired again, but it seemed nothing detoured his attention. Even in this form, Dexter used tactics and began to back the other wolf into a corner. "Get Crymini! Someone get Crymini!" A hiss was forced from his mouth before Dexter lunged. "AAAAHHH!!" Mako screamed as sharp teeth dug into his leg. Dexter began to pull him backwards and drag him. Desperate to get away, he began to kick out his other leg. He managed to make him let go after hitting him in the muzzle, And scooted away. He growled and looked ready to murder. Crouching low to the ground, he rolled his shoulders- "Dexter!" His ears perked up and he whirled around towards the stairs. A cookies n cream wolf stared down at him. A few others were on the stairs and crammed into the doorway to watch the scene unfold before them. She slowly descended the stairs and carefully made her way over to him. Carefully stepping over broken glass and lab equipment. Dexter never taking his eyes off her. "Dexter....Come to Mommy." She held her arms out. He whined before looking back and growling at Mako. "Dexter, no! Bad boy!" He whined again. "C'mere now!" Whimpering like a beaten puppy, he crawled over to her and she cradled him in her arms. "There, there. Mommy's little tyrant was just trying to protect his little sister......Speaking of which..." She gave Mako a death glare. "Ya mind tellin' me why she has so any bullet holes in her?" .................................................................................................................................................................................................. Baxter proceeded to wrap up another cut on Mako's face. Making the wolf hiss in pain. Across from him, Angel-Cake was busy helping Dexter with first aid while Crymini removed bullets from her children. Gem-Stone glared at him while holding her mother's paw. "Well....maybe next time you'll take it back." "Keep your f--king brother away from me. You're both f--king mental cases!" "Uncle Bax, can you tie some of that around his muzzle?" "That's enough you two. Now. it's gonna take even ta fix that machine." "What even happened back there?" Angel-cake turned to the one eyed demon. "Dexter has this......condition to snap when full demon. Only Aunt Crymini can calm him down for some reason." "Probably because he's a Mama's boy," A smaller spider joked. "I AM NOT!!" "AHAHAHAHA!!" "Hey....Where's your brother?" "Tristan? He went ta find this world's version of our mom." .................................................................................................................................................................................................. The one eyed demon looked up at him from the couch. "I'm sorry. I don't understand how I can would know." "You're still my mother from another dimension. Would you even have the slightest idea who my dad might be?," he asked desperately. He stepped back a few feet, "Here. Take a good look. Don't I look like anyone you know?!" "...." Her one eye trailed over him carefully...before shaking her head and giving him an apologetic look. "....I'm sorry. I don't anyone who looks like you......or a moth." "What about someone with some kind of connection to moths or butterflies?" "The only other person with besides me with a connection to moths I know is my daughter." "So.....you don't know?" "'Fraid not. Like you said, we're from different dimensions. Must be someone she knows better than me." He sighed and turned to walk away. "Thanks anyway." "No problem. Sorry I couldn't help." SHe watched him walk away before shaking her head."....Poor kid. I wonder what else the other me did."

#Hazbin

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face. “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

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alyssawritesssfics · 3 years

Text

Hounded [9] 9. Unity Day

Pairings: Bellamy x OC // Kane x daughter!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, character death (canon), series spoilers

Summary: It’s Unity Day --and Athena’s birthday-- and the celebrations only bring Athena and Bellamy closer together.

Author’s Note: Hii, here is chapter/episode nine! This one is also heavily Athena/Bellamy, so I again had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it! Please remember to note and reblog! It really helps me see interest and therefore update the story more often. Thank you!

Tag List: @topazy @no-damsel @lizlil (DM or send an ask to be added)

previous chapter // series masterlist

I had waited up late last night, anticipating the inevitable conversation with my parents. Luckily for me, both were too busy on the Ark to bother. Part of me was bitter, considering what today was, but I knew the chaos of Bellamy’s information stirred up a lot up there.

Luckily, today was Unity Day and Clarke and Bellamy had both agreed to pause work on the camp and defences until after the ceremony. This meant I had a chance to sleep in for the first time since I’d be locked in Skybox.

When my eyes finally fluttered open, I noticed Octavia staring at me from across the tent.

“Were you watching me sleep?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. Then, I smiled. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, standing from her bed and rushing over to mine. “I found something I thought you’d like.” She leaned over, rummaging through her pack and pulling out a long knife, handing it to me with a smile. “Happy Birthday.”

My eyes widened. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” Octavia beamed. “You made my birthday in Skybox so special, and we weren’t even free at the time. I know it’s not much, but I figured it would come in handy.”

I felt my eyes swell with tears, though I quickly pushed them back. “Thank you, O. I really appreciate you even remembering.”

We hugged briefly, Octavia pulling away with excitement. “We are going to have so much fun tonight. Monty is cooking up some of his famous moonshine.”

“At least we get to drink it this time.”

“I’ll let you get ready for the day,” Octavia spoke, heading to the entrance of the tent. “Too bad the moonshine isn’t ready yet. I could use it to get through the Unity Day Ceremony.”

I laughed as Octavia headed out of the tent. After all those years of participating in the ceremony with Clarke and Wells, I could also use a drink.

…

I made my way to the center of camp, finding most had gathered around the monitor to watch the early portion of the ceremony. The camera panned to my father for a moment, a sharp pain shooting through my body. Despite lucking out and getting to avoid talking to him, of course I’d still have to see him.

“Missing being up there for this?”

I turned around, Bellamy appearing. “Definitely not.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Kane’s daughter doesn’t like Unity Day?”

“Kane doesn’t like Unity Day.” I whispered, earning a chuckle. “It’s just such an elaborate show, as if we came together peacefully for the good of mankind. The Ark only became the Ark after the thirteenth station was blasted out of the sky.”

“You’re even more pessimistic than usual.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the screen. “You’re one to talk.”

Bellamy let out a sigh, walking away to join the others.

Alone. As Always.

…

- Six Years Earlier -

I sat on the couch of our family’s unit, staring at the door. It was nearing midnight, and I had yet to see my parents all day. When I woke up they’d both been gone, my mother being called away for surgery and my father for whatever ‘official business’ Jaha needed him for today.

My birthday cake sat in the fridge still, awaiting an adult to stick some candles on it and light it for me. Part of me felt guilty for being upset about missing out on candles; I was one of the lucky few who could even afford to have a cake made. I had read in a book once that cakes were tradition for every birthday on Earth.

The sound of a keycard swipe yanked me from my thoughts as I quickly jumped over the couch. The hard metal door swung open, revealing my mother. She looked exhausted, yet somehow still so put together.

Her eyes finally landed on me, her tired eyes widening. “Honey, I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Mom.” I lied. “I spent the night watching movies after the Unity Day Ceremony.”

She frowned, placing her keycard on the table by the door. “You shouldn’t have to watch movies alone on your birthday.”

“I’m used to it.” My mother winced, her frown only growing. “I haven’t touched the cake yet.” I added, smiling.

My mother finally smiled. “Let’s bust out the candles then!”

“Really?” I asked. “We aren’t supposed to have any flames after ten.”

“Are you going to tell Jaha?” She asked. I shook my head. “Good. Neither am I.”

My mother marched into the kitchen, grabbing the candles from the drawer as I pulled the cake out of the fridge. She placed twelve candles neatly across the cake, lighting them all with a match. Before I could blow out the candles, she placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”

My smile filled out my face as I closed my eyes and made my wish. Then, I opened my eyes, blowing out the candles as the clock struck midnight.

…

“My friends, this is a historic Unity Day.” Jaha spoke through the monitor. “Every year, we mark the moment our ancestors of the twelve stations joined to form the Ark, but this is the last time we do so while aboard her. Next year, on the ground.”

Cheers erupted on the Ark, but most remained silent down here.

“Right. After we did all the work.” Miller groaned. “Somebody shut him up.”

“You shut up, Miller. Nobody’s forcing you to watch.” Raven snapped.

“For ninety-seven years, we have eked out an existence, hoping that someday our descendants would return to Earth.” Jaha continued.

“Monty strikes again!” Jasper’s voice rang out through the camp. “Call this batch ‘Unity Juice’. Who’s thirsty?”

Many delinquents rushed over, grabbing makeshift cups while Jasper filled them all. I stayed put, for reasons I didn’t even understand, watching the ceremony instead.

“To our sons and daughters on Earth listening to this message, we will see you soon.” Jaha carried on. “The first Exodus ship will launch in under sixty hours, carrying you the reinforcements that you need, so stay strong. Help is on the way.”

As the words filled my ears, I could feel my heart stop. The first Exodus ship meant the second wouldn’t be far behind. How soon until my father was down here? Despite the constant threat, I was getting used to having freedom down here. I definitely wasn’t ready for him to bark orders at me again. At least my mother would be down here soon. Hopefully before him.

Children carrying flags danced around the screen for a while, a little girl finally stepping into the center of their circle.

“Long ago when the Earth was on fire, through space all alone. Then one day, Mir floated by Shenzhen, and they realized life would be better together.” The girl spoke. “The other stations saw this, and they wanted to be together, too. When all the stations were formed, they called themselves-”

A loud bang sounded through the radio, the video cutting to static. We all stared at the screen, waiting for the video to come back, but it never did.

…

The sun had gone down, work came and went, and now it was time to have some much needed and deserved fun. As I walked through camp I watched everyone drinking, laughing, singing and playing games. I’d never seen ‘unity’ like this on the Ark.

My eyes landed on Bellamy, and I felt a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. I took a deep breath, marching over until I was standing behind him.

“Hey,” I spoke, causing him to turn around. “I was a jerk earlier. I’m sorry.”

Bellamy eyed me for a moment, before smiling. “Birthday blues, I get it.”

My eyes widened. “How did you-”

“Octavia told me a bit ago.” Bellamy cut me off. “I can’t blame you for hating Unity Day more than most.”

“My birthday was always a little overshadowed.” I sighed. “I can’t complain too much, though. My mother always found a way to make it special, even if it was just before midnight.”

Bellamy smiled. “Your mother sounds great.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty cool.” I smiled back.

I watched Clarke approach us, a frown on her face. “The comms are still dead.”

“Best Unity Day ever.” Bellamy smirked.

“Now you agree with me.” I joked.

“Do you guys really think now is a good time to have a party?” Clarke asked, looking around. “The Grounder is still out there.”

I shook my head. “Grounders.”

“By now, he's made it home. He's probably putting together a lynch mob.” Bellamy spoke, causing Clarke to shift her feet. “Relax. I got security covered. Why don't you go get a drink? You look like you could use one.”

“I could use more than one.”

“So have more than one,” Bellamy responded. “Clarke, the Exodus ship carrying your mother comes down here in two days. After that, the party's over. Have some fun while you still can. You deserve it.”

Clarke thought for a moment. “Yeah, okay. So do you, by the way. Both of you.”

“I’ll have my fun when the Gounders get here.” Bellamy smirked.

Clarke smiled, laughing slightly. “Alright.”

We both watched her disappear into the crowd, Bellamy spinning the apple in his hand. Finally, he turned to me.

“What about you?” He asked. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

I shrugged. “I’m not even sure I know how to celebrate.”

Bellamy took one final bite of his apple, tossing it to the side. “Come on.” He said, marching away.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my shorter legs struggling to keep up.

“First, we get drinks. Then, I teach you how to celebrate.”

I laughed, causing him to stop and look back at me. “You’re going to teach me how to celebrate?”

Bellamy smirked. “Trust me, we used to have the best parties on Factory Station.”

“Right, I heard about those.” I smiled. “I always wished I could go.”

“Well, now you pretty much get to.”

We reached Jasper, Bellamy asking for drinks. Jasper poured them, eyeing the two of us the entire time.

…

We spent most of the night drinking, talking about our experiences on the Ark and playing different games. Finally, we came across a new group, Clarke among them.

“You’re not gonna get this one.” Clarke taunted Fox.

Fox smirked. “Yes, I am.”

“No, it’s not happening.”

Fox flipped the metal piece, landing it the cup of moonshine.

Everyone around the table cheered as Clarke admitted defeat, drinking from the cup and spitting the metal piece out.

“What do you know?” A boy spoke. “Her highness can actually party. I like it.”

“What are you gonna do when the guards come down here and commandeer Monty’s still?” Clarke asked.

“Build another one.”

“Right.” Clarke laughed, her eyes landing on me. “Athena! Come try.”

I shook my head. “I’m alright, thanks.”

“Come on, Athena.” Bellamy nudged my arm.

I sighed, stepping towards the table. “Alright, what am I supposed to do?”

Clarke explained the rules to me as best as her tipsy self could. I stood across the table from her, aiming my piece of metal towards her cup. I then tossed it, the piece bouncing off the table and landing in her cup.

Clarke stared down at her cup for a moment before looking back up at me with a frown. “I regret asking you to try it.”

“Beginners luck.” I threw my hands up, smiling.

Clarke and I battled it out for a bit, her getting distracted before we could break the tie. She placed one of the metal pieces on her nose, struggling to balance it.

“Hey, can we talk?” Finn asked, appearing through the crowd and placing his hand on Clarke’s arm.

“Is everything alright?” She asked.

Finn looked around before gesturing for her to follow him.

With Clarke gone I stepped away from the table, realising I had sort of abandoned Bellamy. To my surprise he was still there, the smile on his face bigger than I’d ever seen it before.

“You were totally going to win that game.”

My eyes widened, my cheeks warming up. “You think so?”

He nodded. “I’m impressed, Athena.”

“It’s the birthday spirit, I guess.” I laughed, stumbling slightly.

“Woah,” Bellamy laughed, grabbing my arms. “You alright?”

I nodded. “I’m a little dizzy. Very tired. Too much birthday.”

Bellamy laughed again, helping me regain my balance. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Bellamy led me across the camp, stopping just outside of my tent.

“Octavia, are you in there?”

No response.

Bellamy pushed the flap to the side, stepping inside and helping me navigate my way through. I quickly sat on my cot, staring up at Bellamy.

“Alright, try to get some sleep.” Bellamy’s eyes shifted around the tent. “I’ll bring you some water in a bit. Drink it when you wake up.”

Bellamy turned to leave, but I quickly grabbed his arm. “Bellamy, wait.”

He stopped turning back around to face me. I stood from my bed, the alcohol taking over me and I tossed my arms around him.

“Athena?” He asked.

“Thank you, for everything today.” I spoke. “It was the best birthday ever.”

I felt Bellamy’s arms wrap around me, lingering there for just a few moments before we both pulled away. I stared into his soft brown eyes, and he stared back into mine. For a second, I thought he’d say something more.

Instead, he smiled. “Goodnight, Athena. Happy Birthday.”

Bellamy turned to exit the tent, pushing the flap aside to reveal Clarke. Her eyes quickly darted to me behind him, before landing back on his face.

“Hey, I needed to talk to you both.”

“Been having fun, Princess?” Bellamy smirked.

Clarke glared. “I’m serious.”

“You always are.”

“Finn’s set up a meeting with the Grounders. I’m leaving to go talk to them.”

I stood up, my head spinning. “Like hell you are.”

“Do you think that impaling people on spears is code for ‘let’s be friends’? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Now you two decide to agree on things?”

“Clarke, we have no idea what else these people are capable of. You could be walking into a trap.”

“I think it might be worth a shot.” Clarke shrugged. “I mean, we do have to find a way to live with them.”

“They’ll probably gut you, string you up as a warning.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.” Clarke said. “I need you guys to follow us, be our backup.”

“Does Finn know about this?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke shook her head. “He doesn’t need to know.”

I eyed Clarke for a few moments, before finally letting out a hearty sigh. “Alright, I’m feeling up for an adventure this evening anyways.”

“Good,” Clarke nodded. “Bring guns.”

While I watched Clarke march away, Bellamy turned to me.

“You should stay here.”

I shook my head. “No way, I’m coming with you.”

“Athena, you were falling over ten minutes ago.”

“And now I’m worried about my friends.” I snapped. “Bellamy, We’ve all been drinking. I’ll sober up on the walk there.”

“Athena-”

“I can’t stay behind while my friends meet with the enemy. I’m coming with you, end of discussion.”

“No, not ‘end of discussion’,” Bellamy glared, folding his arms across his chest. “Who knows what kind of danger we’re gonna be walking into out there. I know you always feel like you have to risk yourself for your friends, but not this time. I can’t worry about you.”

I went to protest, his words finally sinking in and forcing me to stop. He was right. As much as I found arguing with him slightly entertaining, I knew this was one battle I would not be winning.

“Alright,” I sighed, slapping my hands against my thighs as I sat down on my coat. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

Bellamy nodded. “We’ll be back before you know it. Try to get some rest.”

Bellamy left the tent, and I knew I would not be getting any sleep that night.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x oc

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goodomensblog · 4 years

Text

Afterward - Part 14

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

(#1 won! Crowley is off to investigate!)

Afterward - - - Part 14

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Scrolls jut from towering shelves, a canopy of yellowing paper arching overhead. Crowley strolls beneath, jar of Hellfire tucked under his arm.

The painted Bentley is flaking, an echo of the colorful fresco it had undoubtedly been, once upon a time. Nowadays, Heaven is pale, sterile, and sprawling. The decorations of old had likely been purged with each of Heaven’s remodelings. All, it seems, but this one here.

Crowley stops short in front of the mural. Tilting his head, he studies it, tentative fingertips tracing curling edges of paint. The Bentley is painted in hues of black that long ago faded to shadow grays. From beneath it’s wheels, brush stoked flames crawl. The pale, peeling flames encircle the vehicle, climbing in and out of the windows. The car is painted as if it is emerging from a wall of fire. And beyond that - the mural is obscured.

Eyeing the dark shelves, Crowley places his hands on cool wood. Bracing, he gives a single, solid push.

It scrapes effortlessly over marble, and the mural uncovers, inch by inch. When the wall is clear, Crowley, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, steps back.

The mural is - broken.

Entire patches of it have worn away, a likely combination of age and neglect.

In one corner is the flaming Bentley. Above it and slightly to the right, half of an electric scooter drives along; it’s hunched riders are ghosts, little more than pale outlines amidst peeling paint. Nearby, a boy stands, blue jacket billowing, flaking golden paint encircling his head. His small hand is raised.

The scene is hauntingly familiar.

Narrowing his eyes, Crowley strolls along the mural, tracing his hand along rough paint. Slivers flake and fall, drifting like snow upon the marble floor.

The mural is ruined and peeling in the areas immediately surrounding the boy. Beyond the stretch of pale wall, the mural choppily resumes. Rendered in harsh strokes, a red-eyed being claws its way from brutal cracks in the earth, black mist rising. Patches of paint are worn away, and when the mural resumes, Crowley’s fingers are running over the blood mad eyes of Hell hounds, who are painted with their heads thrown back in grimacing howls. The sky above them is red.

The mural goes patchy again, but Crowley’s pretty sure he can make out the whitewashed gates of Heaven, and - huge, clawed and pale fingers curling possessively over it’s top.

“Hm,” Crowley says, giving the clutching hand a once-over. “That doesn’t look good.”

Nearly the entirety of the remaining mural has fallen into ruin - except for a splash of paint at the end. Or, more specifically, two splashes of paint. Clear, crisp white and rich, velvety black collide in a crash of colors.

Upon closer inspection, Crowley notices that there are figures within the splashes.

Squinting, Crowley leans in, and realizes the vaguely shaped beings within are reaching toward one another. Where their outstretched reaches touch, a rainbow of color blossoms. Beneath, nearly entirely erased by time an age, precise black lettering spells: Bilanx.

“Balance?”

What does it mean?

Before Crowley has much of a chance to consider, the room rumbles, rocking. Crowley stumbles back as scrolls, tipping from their precarious stacks, begin to tumble down around him.

Alright then. Crowley thinks, giving the mural a last fleeting look. Time to go.

Clutching the Hellfire under one arm, Crowley charges the stairs. This time they cooperate, and he’s out of the Hall of Records and back to sprinting across the atrium in moments. In the marble hallways, the lights have faded to a barely-there glow and are flickering rapidly on then off.

Crowley takes corners at a full sprint, shoes skidding on the smooth floors.

He’s relieved when he sees Gabriel’s doors are still closed. If something had come for Aziraphale, Crowley reasons, they wouldn’t have taken the time to close the door after themselves.

Crowley flings the suite doors open.

“Angel!” he calls, striding in. “I got the-”

He stops.

The room is silent. And bare.

No, wait. Not entirely bare. A small, dark shape is curled, motionless on the couch.

Not daring to breathe, Crowley pivots, looking over the room.

“Aziraphale?”

Silence is his only answer.

He crosses the room, shoes sinking into the infuriatingly plush carpet.

“Aziraphale? Where are you?”

Clutching the Hellfire to his chest, Crowley turns in a small circle.

The lump on the couch hasn’t moved. Lifting his glasses, Crowley squints.

“Beelzebub?”

The Lord of Hell is curled in on themselves. Beneath them, the couch is soaked in dark, stale blood. Their face, leeched of color, is partially obscured by black, matted hair.

“Shit,” Crowley curses, hopping over the coffee table.

Gripping the demon lord’s shoulder, Crowley pulls them onto their back. They roll, limp, head lolling back.

Cursing under his breath, Crowley gives their shoulder a shake.

Nothing.

He shakes a little harder.

Still nothing.

“Oh come on! Wake up!” Crowley hisses, and gives them a rough, abrupt shake.

Chapped lips part; Beelzebub heaves a low, jagged breath.

“See? Knew you hadn’t kicked the bucket,” Crowley says, breathless, and sinks limply down on the table’s edge.

“You….have the Hellfire?” Beelzebub rasps, squinting a tired, pale eye open.

“Got it right here,” Crowley says patting the lid, “And I’ll happily use it to patch you up right as soon as you tell me where in Heaven Aziraphale-”

“Your angel left,” Beelzebub says, breath rattling between words. “We felt the...thing. And the angels started….screaming. He waited....but the screams got louder and louder….and then screams turned to pleas….and your angel begged my forgiveness,” Beelzebub adds with a dry, bloody chuckle, “then left.... to try to save them.”

Crowley surges up, jar of Hellfire loose in his grasp.

“When? Beelzebub, how long ago did he leave?”

“...ten minutes...I’d say. For a few minutes now….it’s been silent.”

Crowley straightens. Fingers, only slightly trembling, shove his sunglasses higher on his nose. He has to go. Now.

“....you’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Beelzebub, rasps, their pale eyes cool and discerning. “At least….leave me the Hellfire….to give me.... a fighting chance.”

Crowley can feel his pulse down to his fingers. Jaw clenched, he looks down at the jar.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Aziraphale has gone to help the angels, and is presumably facing off against whatever the thing is that has broken into heaven. Crowley has returned with the jar of Hellfire, to find Beelzebub still alive - but inching closer to death with every passing moment. Desperate to follow after Aziraphale, but with Beelzebub’s life hanging in the balance, Crowley makes the difficult decision to...

Stay just long enough to heal Beelzebub with the Hellfire. Crowley can’t stand the thought of Aziraphale facing danger without him….but as much as he wants to rush after Aziraphale, Crowley can’t ignore the feeling that leaving Beelzebub to die is wrong. He may be a demon, but he’s never been a monster.

Go after Aziraphale, but leave Beelzebub with the Hellfire so they can at least try to heal themselves. Crowley will never forgive himself if something happens to Aziraphale. He knows it is wrong to leave Beelzebub without helping them, but he is willing to be a monster, just this once, if it means potentially saving Aziraphale’s life.

Piggy-back Beelzebub and heal them on-the-go. Crowley is a demon of many talents - multi-tasking being one of them. As a firm believer that one can absolutely have their cake and eat it too, Crowley decides he will immediately go after Aziraphale WHILE healing good old Beelz. What could possibly go wrong?

Please comment or reblog to vote! :) Thanks for reading!

Part 15

#my writing #choose your own adventure fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #good omens #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfic #ineffable husbands fanfiction #multi-chapter fic #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #choose your own adventure

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

Fairy Tales for the Fallen

Other Tales: The Very Hungry Beetle, How the Arrogant Peacock Lost His Feathers, The Tongue-Cut Crow, The Little Scorpion, Others Coming Soon

HER NAME WAS THOUSAND-EYES

Once upon a time, there lived a wretched, unwanted child.

Oh, but who could blame his father? The child was borne of his father’s hatred and rage! The child was so unsightly that not even the beasts would have loved him, for his body was of the strangest, most curious shape. This child had bones the color of soot, which you could see through the dark, writhing mass of blazing flesh, and his head was shaped much like that of a some horrid hound. He nearly looked as if he had two faces, for his visage split open in the center whenever he feasted or smiled, and it was only after much disgust by his father that he stopped smiling. Worst of all were the twisted, pitch-black pair of horns that sprouted from his skull. It was this that forever reminded his father of the circumstances of his birth, and it was this that the wretched child would come to truly detest about his form. The child would do everything he could to wrench the offending things off, pulling and pulling with all his might – but it was of no use. The horns were as much a part of him as his bones.

Would you like to go to school? asked his father one day, peering over the desk. The wretched child looked up at his father with both surprise and curiosity, for his father never spoke to him first. His father only sighed. It is time you learned more about the world, said he. There are many more like you at school.

The wretched child did not know what school was, nor did he know why his father had asked, but he was so overjoyed that his father had spoken to him that he said, Yes, yes, I would! Thank you very much.

His father did not answer. There was only the scrawling of his quill against the parchment and the popping of the suet of the candle. It did not matter: he would be able to go to school! He would meet many more like him, and oh, no longer would he be so lonely! He would make many friends, so many that his father would not be able to count them. His father would come and see how well he was liked in this new place called school, and perhaps … perhaps he would come to like him as well, one day.

So the wretched child did his best to be especially good for the rest of the day. He ate dinner with his brothers without making a fuss, combed his own hair, and even went to bed without asking any of his brothers to read from one of his picture books. He dreamt of many wonderful things that night, imagining all that could happen at this place called school, and he slept quite soundly.

The next day, his eldest brother walked him to school. He did his best not to skip the entire way, excited as he was, but even he could not help himself. Lucky for him, his eldest brother was in a good mood that day -- and in moments they began to race all the way to the front gates, the child laughing with glee. His eldest brother bade him good-by, and the child turned to face what lay within.

His father had lied.

The school was filled with children who looked like his brothers, not him. Some of these children had horns, yes, some of them even bearing a few tails or extra eyes or other oddities, but none were as monstrous as he. None possessed that terrible hound’s head or the strange, writhing flesh. None possessed sunken, blazing eyes or a maw that dripped with green flame. Other than the odd pairs of horns, none possessed the features that had led his father to hate him.

The school children, as if sensing a monster within their midst, steered clear of the wretched child. The child spent his first day at school alone, just as he always had at home.

And so came many lonely, long days at school. His teacher took pity on him and gave him many books to read, satiating only a bit of his curiosity, but not even she could stand to look at the wretched creature for very long. So she went away, and he was alone again.

One day, a girl with many eyes went and stood before him.

She blinked one eye. The other thousand followed. The wretched child could only stare at her as she asked, And what might you be?

The wretched child did not speak, so surprised was he that another had chosen to speak to him. The many-eyed girl stamped her foot and huffed at his silence, and once more she asked.

The wretched child blinked. Me?

Yes, you! The many-eyed girl made a very dramatic, sweeping gesture. Have you no ears? Answer me now, or I shall be very cross with you!

The wretched child did not speak for a moment, for not even he was sure of the answer. His father had told him that he came from him, you see, but not once did his father explain exactly what he was. But the girl in front of him had asked a question, he mused, so there must be some uncertainty regarding it. If she had asked, that meant he was much different from the other school children. What did that make him?

I am Thousand-Eyes, said the girl. She stuck her hand out to him, giving him an expectant look, and he took it. The girl shook it with vigor. My mother says she should have named me Thousand-One, or Thousand-and-One, or maybe even Too-Many, but they didn’t have enough time to count all of them. Tell me your name.

The wretched child began, I am --

And then he stopped. His father had never given him a name, he realized. What was his name?

It is very nice to meet you, I Am! The girl nodded quite solemnly, for the act of making friends is very serious for little children. Now we know each other! I hereby declare that we are friends from this day forward. Have you got any problem with that, I Am?

He did not.

And so Thousand-Eyes and the wretched child were inseparable from that day forward. Wherever Thousand-Eyes went, the wretched child followed. Whatever Thousand-Eyes did, the child did as well. Thousand-Eyes made up very many games for them to play, and their afternoons became filled with joy and laughter. The wretched child told Thousand-Eyes of the wonderful things he had learned in books, and Thousand-Eyes listened with rapt attention.

Will I ever go there someday? asked Thousand-Eyes, staring dreamily into the sunless sky.

Go where? he echoed.

Why, to the surface, of course! Thousand-Eyes stood to full height, which was not very tall at all, and perched herself upon the rock as if she were the queen of the world. The lights of the city lay before them, shining like beacons in the endless darkness. Mother says she has been there only a few times, but she has told me so little of her travels that I can only imagine what it is truly like! What if humans have streets paved with gold? What if honey cakes and roasted hazelnuts burst out from the flowers? Oh, how I wish to know!

The child had a sudden idea. Insidious as it was and secretive it would have to be, the child thought it was a very good idea indeed. He clasped one of his friend’s hands in his own claws and spoke the idea into her ear. Thousand-Eyes mulled over the idea for a moment, dumbstruck, for she had never even thought of this idea before.

Your father would be very cross with you, said Thousand-Eyes. I do not care if Mother scolds me when I return, but I do not want you to be needlessly punished. Are you sure?

Of course I am, lied the child. He only wanted to bring Thousand-Eyes as much happiness as she had given unto him. And we will not be gone for very long. I will ask my brother to look for us if we do not return by dusk.

When he returned home, the child pulled his eldest brother aside after dinner to discuss the matter with him. His eldest brother, who was normally a brash, loud creature, regarded the child for the first time with worry.

His eldest brother frowned, his blue eyes seeming to pierce through the child. You’d best stay down here where it’s safe. The angels will hunt and eat you alive, child. It is much too soon after the war.

But it’s only once! begged the child, his dark, shadowy flesh beginning to writhe around his horns. I only ask that you look for us if we are not back by dusk, brother.

I cannot allow you to do so.

Even if I bring you back a silver coin? The child did his best to flatten his writhing shadows of flesh as much as possible, quieting the verdant flame within. Even if I pay you in as much human silver as I can?

* * *

The next day, right after school hours had finished, the child took Thousand-Eyes through the portal and to the surface, where the humans dwelled. She blinked her many eyes in the sunlight, for demons are not used to the brightness -- and then she gazed at the scene around her with awe. The child could not help but smile at the exultation that had made itself clear on his dear friend’s visage. Thousand-Eyes began to run down the field of wildflowers, nearly tumbling down the hill as she did so, and stopped at a particularly colorful patch of flora. The child chased after her.

How wonderful! she cried, taking one of them into her hands. She held it out to the child with glee. Oh, everything is just as beautiful as I had ever imagined! What might this be, do you think?

The child brought it up to his snout and sniffed it. It’s sweet, so it must be honeysuckle, he said. I believe it is safe to --

Before the child could stop her, Thousand-Eyes plucked it from his claws and tossed it into her mouth, chewing it once before swallowing. Her eyes lit up with delight, much to the child’s surprise. She began to reach for another, but the child stopped her with a clawed hand. Thousand-Eyes watched the child as he took another delicately with his claws, brought it to his maw, and drank the nectar. Thousand-Eyes looked upon the act with wonder, and then she copied it. Once more, her expression showed nothing but joy.

And so they spent the day playing in the fields of the human world, tumbling down the grassy hills, and frolicking in the forest. They played games of tag, knitted together flower crowns, and thought of all sorts of games they could play in the future, for they had only so much time now. Despite his brother’s warnings to only visit the human world once, the child found himself longing for such moments with Thousand-Eyes. He mulled over the idea as he lay on the soft earth, and Thousand-Eyes blinked her many eyes at him, as if to ask him what was the matter. A crown of honeysuckle graced her head, the soft white petals pressing against four or five of her eyes.

If he had not known any better, he would have believed her to be a princess.

We will come here again, he said simply, and the child left it at that.

* * *

And so they did. Thousand-Eyes and the child visited a great many places in the human realm, as they were at the mercy of the portal, and they saw a great deal of many wondrous things. They frolicked in a castle long abandoned to the woods one day, frolicking among the overgrown walls and crumbling stone. The child chased Thousand-Eyes on all four of his paws, playing tag. They explored a cavern of a cathedral in the daylight, dashing and hiding behind pillars when they believed they sensed a human. They played games along the edge of a mountain spring, drinking deeply of its bounty. The wretched child stole and returned his eldest brother’s silver coins again and again, for his brother never remembered which coins were which, and then he went to waste away his afternoons with his dear friend.

They say I am a seer, said Thousand-Eyes one day, her fingers trailing the edge of a worn stone wall. Mother says I should be careful, really, but what’s the fun in that? I’m quite sure that no one would dare harm me, as is.

And why is that? The child loped after her in the forgotten temple, his eyes drawing themselves over the carved figures. He felt only the slightest pang of vexation at that. At being wanted. Surely it would do you good to have some sense of danger.

Thousand-Eyes only turned to the wretched child, her smile rivaling the sun beams that streamed down from above. The child could only look upon Thousand-Eyes, entranced as he was, and Thousand-Eyes plucked a flower from the wall. She placed it among the writhing shadows of his skull, smoothing them down as she did so, and cradled the side of his snout for a moment. Then she plucked a flower for herself and placed it in her own hair, matching him.

Well, I have you, do I not?

And just like that, the vexation he had felt had all but vanished.

* * *

The day of her two-hundredth birthday -- perhaps six or seven in human years -- came. The child wrapped her present gingerly within the honeysuckle-printed paper, tied it tight with a ribbon, and set off to the portal once more. He would be late, he knew, but surely she would not be angry once she saw the wonderful present he had prepared for her. A moment, and the portal opened up before his hunched body. Another moment, and he stepped through the portal, his feet meeting cobblestone on the other side. The sunlight blinded him for the span of a second, and he blinked away the harsh brightness.

He was in a city, strangely enough. No matter. Thousand-Eyes would be only some short distance from the portal, he was sure, and so he loped off to search for her in the alleyways and nooks of the human city. Her present was tucked gently within one clawed hand, and he made a note to do as much as he could not to damage her birthday present before he could give it to her.

Minutes passed, and he could not find her. He began to worry.

An hour passed, and he could not find her. He began to grow desperate.

The sky darkened, the sunset peeking out before the horizon, and he could not find her. The child became frantic, bounding through the city as he searched for Thousand-Eyes. Perhaps she had not come today. Perhaps her mother had instead kept a closer watch on her and she had simply been kept home, celebrating her birthday quite nicely with cakes of honey and roasted hazelnuts and all sorts of good things. Perhaps he was only worried for nothing, and he and Thousand-Eyes would laugh about it later over a game of chase.

Yet he could not bring himself to believe it. The child searched, and searched, and searched for hours on end, and soon it was dark.

And soon he found her. An angel with wings of alabaster and burning flesh released her, and the lifeless body that was once Thousand-Eyes crumpled to the ground. Her many eyelids wept blackened blood. Three other figures laughed with merriment as he did so, one of them clutching a bag that dripped with black ichor. Her ichor.

What luck we have! declared the angel with burning flesh. He took the sack from one of the figures and presented their bounty to them once more, for they could not believe their fortune. Surely we have been blessed this day.

Yes, agreed the figure beside him. To think we would have stumbled upon such a rare beast!

And such an easy quarry, too, added another.

His father had told him, once, that he was nothing more than a monster borne from his hatred and wrath. That he would never be anything more of a reminder of his disgrace and exile in that damned, dark place. His father had told him that he was a terrible, horrid, dangerous thing, and that it was only by his brothers’ grace that he had been let outside of the confines of the house. Perhaps if he tried just a bit harder, he would look just like the rest of his brothers. His father told him a great many painful things, you see, but it was only now he truly felt the flames of wrath. It was only now that his horns ignited with hellfire, his eyes blazing in the darkness, and his teeth grew into something truly worthy of a beast. It was only now that his claws became long and sharp, preparing themselves for the slaughter. It was only now that true, unbridled wrath burned like fire in his heart, consuming him from within.

And so the wretched child stepped out from the shadows.

* * *

The cobblestones drank the divine blood, the cerulean liquid soaking slowly into the street. The wretched child sobbed quietly into the lifeless body of his dear friend, crumpled on the ground. His eldest brother arrived some time later, took the wretched child by the hand, gathered the lifeless body, and carried them both home.

The funeral was a quiet one. The wretched child watched the procession from some distance away, as Thousand-Eyes’ distraught mother would not allow such a monster to attend. The wretched child’s father stood before him afterwards, both his disgust and his disappointment shrouding his visage more than the everlasting darkness ever would. The wretched child knew this, despite not daring to look into his eyes.

What do you have to say for yourself? asked his father, who was truly very cross. They stood in the shadows of his study. The wretched child only stared down at his clawed hands.

For a long moment, he did not dare to speak. He did not dare to breathe. When he finally spoke, it was with the grief of what his own actions had wrought, his throat heavy with sobs.

Her name was Thousand-Eyes, said the wretched child, and she was my friend.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me!#obey me fanfic #obey me writing #fanfic #writing #fairytales

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sassypandacandy · 4 years

Text

Candied Larkspur

Sooner or later, everyone comes to make a bargain.

The pre-law students are the hardest sell. They've read the fine print; they know the questions to ask, the verbal pitfalls to leap. They're her favorite ones to trick.

The English majors either come to her wary, or with stars in their eyes. The wary ones know there'll be a price to pay, one greater than her candied words promise. The starry-eyed ones would have been the first to eat from her table in the old stories.

Easiest of all are the scientists and mathematicians. They don't believe in her anyway.

She sits for one hour – no more, no less – at the table by the window, so the afternoon sunlight can fall on her pale topaz hair. She reads romance novels, or technical manuals, or outdated botanical guidebooks. The only other items on the table are a yellow legal pad, a blue pen, and a coffee cup filled with more cream than coffee.

These are the rules: You must bring a gift. When you have reached an agreement, you must sign your name on the legal pad. Then you must leave and never speak of your bargain again.

The first one today is a girl with curly hair pinned back by a thick butterfly clip. She has wet eyes and a sincere smile. There's a bottle of cheap moscato in one nail-bitten hand and a pack of Zebra cakes in the other. She loses her nerve halfway to the table and instead makes a beeline for me.

“Can I help you find something?” I ask, offering her my gentlest smile.

She clears her throat. “No, it's stupid.” She glances over at the table by the window, brow puckering. “She isn't...real, right? Like, she's not really---”

“That depends on you.” I can feel the heated brush of her gaze. Whatever I do, I mustn't look over. “How much you believe. How desperate you are.”

“So you know?” the girl asks.

I almost laugh. “Too much, and too late. If you're going to go through with it, tread carefully. Negotiate. Ask questions.” I lean in closer. “And above all else, remember: She is not your friend.”

The girl swallows and clutches her offerings closer. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Satisfaction stirs within me, a lazy cat stretching out in the sun. “That's very wise of you.”

“But I still need help.”

“And you can have it,” I say, nodding in her direction. “But there's a cost, and it's not always worth it.”

The girl half-turns away before glancing back at me. “You must've seen a lot of people get suckered.”

“Honestly? I've lost count.”

“But she doesn't hurt you? Even when you warn people?”

“We have an understanding.” I shrug. “And people rarely listen to me anyway.”

The next one is a boy a little older, with tall hair and a golden smile. He does not even look at me; like the rest of his kind, he goes straight for what he wants. He drops a dark, understated bottle on the table in front of her and crosses his arms.

“I need to pass my English final next week.” His voice grates even from across the library.

She does not turn her head. Slim fingers play with the pressed larkspur pendant around her neck. In the right light and to the right eyes, her nails are clearly talons. “And what will you give me?”

I silently beg him not to say the words, but of course he does. “Anything you want.” To him, this promise is meaningless. Or rather, it has a very specific meaning: Whatever his money can buy her. But of course, that's not the way this is going to go.

“I want an hour of your day,” she says.

He shifts in place. Something has changed, although he won't listen when his instincts tell him so. “What does that mean?”

“My price is an hour of wakefulness, to be taken at my liking.”

“Deal,” he says, and I close my eyes. He will be one of the bad ones.

Paper rips. She has taken a sheet from her yellow legal pad and written out the terms. Only now, as he signs his name with three flourishes, does she look him in the eye. Will he notice the odd purple-blue shade of hers? Doubtful. “It is done.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” he says, tossing the pen down. He swaggers out of the library, confident in every step of the easy road ahead. The paper has already disappeared from her hands.

The third and final one comes as the sun is reaching its golden hour. She has a bottle of Bailey's and a small notebook that she clutches to her chest like a shield. “May I sit?” the girl asks. “Or is that rude?”

“You may do as you like,” she says, again without turning her head.

The girl sets the bottle down gently in the middle of the table and sits. The dying light catches on her earrings, silver woven in the shape of trees.

She turns her head now, attention caught. “Those are beautiful.”

“These?” The girl touches the earrings and smiles. “Thank---I mean, I'm glad you like them.”

She tilts her head. “How can I help you?”

“My mom's cancer came back last month. She just beat it in March, and her doctor doesn't think her chances are good.” Tears well up in the girl's eyes. “She can't do it again. I'd like you to heal her and make sure the cancer never comes back, in any way.”

“A classic request,” she says. “The price is a kiss.”

The girl draws back, her face considering. “Not that it wouldn't be the highest honor, but do I have to kiss you?”

“You may, although you are right to be wary of such a thing,” she replies. “The kiss may be with whomever you like, although it would satisfy me all the more if it were with a stranger.”

“Is there a time limit?”

“Before the new year.”

“Which new year?”

The edge of a pleased smile appears on her perfect face. “The Western New Year will do. But the sooner you fulfill your part, the sooner I will fulfill mine.”

The girl checks her notebook. “Are there any other requirements or limitations like location or duration?”

At this, she laughs. It is the soft summer breeze and the baying of midnight hounds. “There are not.”

“Will anything bad happen to me or my mother as a result?”

“That, I cannot say. Life is full of bad things. But none of them will happen to you as a consequence of this day.” That smile reappears, and she toys with her pendant. “In fact, I am hoping for something rather good. The world needs more bold acts.”

Nodding firmly, the girl says, “Then we have a deal.”

She writes out the terms, including everything they have discussed. I cheer silently for the girl; this is the best bargain I have seen in a long time.

If only we could all be saved by our wits and a little silver jewelry.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is the final day before winter break, and therefore the final day for making bargains. There is always a line to reach her table this time of year, as desperation rises and whispers abound. She is the university's worst-kept secret.

The girl with the butterfly clip has come by every day. She stops by my desk to talk before settling in to study. She talks about her break-up, how sometimes the lovesick ache in her heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and all she wants is to be able to breathe freely. I never mention the way her backpack pulls to one side with the weight of a wine bottle, or how the seat she chooses always manages to face the windows.

I hate to admit I'm becoming fond of her.

The peace of the library is shattered by a slamming door. The boy who made the poor bargain last week storms in, his hair in disarray and his swagger gone. He slams his bag on the table across from her, causing another student to jump back.

“Bitch,” he screeches. “You made me sleep through my business final!”

She has not moved a muscle. “The price was an hour of your life. You signed the contract.”

“I needed that class to graduate!” he rages, sweeping his backpack off the table.

“Then you should have been more careful with your promises.”

The students' whispers are growing louder. A security guard arrives, though none was called. He is just in time to hear the boy threaten to kill her for this. The boy is dragged out, purple-faced and still screaming.

I calm the students as best I can. It's finals week, and someone always goes a little crazy. Eventually they laugh it off. But they don't know what I know: The boy will follow her tonight, looking for his revenge, and he will see things he was not meant to see. It will be all the reason she needs. They will find his body in the first spring thaw.

The girl with the butterfly clip stops by my desk to say goodbye. She has a family to see, and a bottle of wine to drink. She thanks me for my advice. I thank her for listening.

Finally, the library is empty but for the two of us. “A bountiful season,” she remarks, standing. The table in front of her is empty.

“It was, my lady.” I turn off my computer and gather my meager things.

“There was one who never quite plucked up the courage,” she says. “She will taste all the sweeter when I snare her next year.”

I pause with my hand on the library door.

“They are only humans, Delphine,” she says. One hand curls over mine from behind, the talons brushing gently over my unchanging skin. “But if you would like to make a new bargain...”

Ice seizes my heart. “No.”

“No?” she croons. “But you have spent so many long centuries watching. Surely I could not trick you a second time.”

“No thank you, my lady,” I say again, opening the door with a harsh clang. I hold it for her, eyes downcast as she glides by only inches away. She smells of sugar and shade trees, like always.

In the old days I thought often of killing her, with cold iron or rowan staff or thorny bush. But my courage failed me every time, until I looked up one day and a decade had passed. And then another. And then another. In truth, I had barely noticed. There had been nothing and no one there to make me take notice. Not until a girl with a butterfly clip in her curly hair had reminded me that life was more than a slow march of days.

I stop the library door just before it can close. “My lady?”

She does not respond, but I feel the heat of her gaze. I hold the door open for her, and she walks back into the library. She takes her seat and picks up the yellow legal pad from where it is waiting. I take the second seat. The last embers of the day land on her face, painting her eyes crimson.

“Why this one?” she asks.

I know the answer without thinking. “Because she makes me feel brave. And she deserves to have a heart free from hurt.”

Her eyes glitter. There can be no greater thrill than tricking one who knows all your tricks. “Now then. What will you give me?”

She was right before; they are only humans. And there will always be someone else willing to make a bargain. But if I have learned any lesson in all these years, it is this: Some things are worth the cost.

#my wips #fairy tales #the fae

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Note

I know you've currently got quite the list already, but could i request an X Drake and Jewelry Bonney fic with the prompt "Birthday Cake"? It can be platonic or romantic, as there isn't as much of an age gap between them (Oda says even he isn't really sure of her real age due to her powers), but go with what you're comfortable with. I just like someone as stern but secretly shy as Drake interacting with a woman as rough and boisterous as Bonney, lol.

Here’s your latest request, love! It is definitely the sauciest thing I have ever written and you can jot that down to my headcanon that Bonney is a flirtatious little devil queen. Fufufufu, I hope you enjoy it

Icing on the Cake

Bonney released a loud, contented sigh as she plopped down onto the bar chair, leaning against its wooden back as she propped her booted feet on the small table. She slung her arm lazily over the shoulder and twirled the luscious strands of her bubblegum-pink hair around her finger while flashing a wink at the very uncomfortable waiter. He flushed the color of her hair before whirling on his heel to scurry off to the bar, because the entirety of the staff already knew what “Big Eater” Bonney liked to partake in. This particular bar was one of her favorite haunts, and regardless of where she was or what she was doing, she always made a voyage to this island at a particular time of the year…

This bar, of all the many restaurants Bonney had frequented in her life, simply had the most delectable, delicious, irresistible birthday cake that she had ever tasted!

The bar had been anticipating her arrival, as most of the patrons consisted of her crew, who were already in various states of drunk. Plates and glasses had already begun flying about, and the poor cleaning staff were struggling to maneuver brooms through the writhing, sweaty bodies to sweep away the glass, because the rowdy pirates would surely turn on them once they got a glass shard to the sole of their foot. A large flagon of cream soda was delivered to Bonney’s waiting hand. Normally, of course, she would drown herself in alcohol like the rest of her mates, but the bitter taste of beer went horribly with the sweet birthday cake! No, tonight, Bonney was going to deliver herself to a sugar coma rather than a drunken stupor.

A big smile painted her face as she sloppily chugged on the frothy soda, a faint line of fizz decorating her face as she slammed it down and demanded another. Balancing the chair on two legs as she contentedly eased it back and forth, Bonney was relaxed despite the raucous atmosphere. Birthday cake~ Birthday cake~ she chanted blissfully in her mind, swinging her finger about to the tune. Everywhere else she would be slamming her fists and hurling chairs if she didn’t immediately have her food, but this was the rare instance in which patience was well rewarded. Drool began to pool in the corner of her mouth as she imagined it being brandished on a silver platter, an entire tiered strawberry and cream cake being presented to her and her only… Ooh, she could literally taste the creamy buttercream on her tongue already! She clicked her tongue as she reeled her mind back in, lest she truly become irritable at waiting. She didn’t want to hound the kitchen staff at the expense at her delicious cake, after all…

The door to the bar was suddenly slammed open. Everyone in the bar hall, including Bonney, whirled their heads about to stare in awe at whoever dared to trespass on what was temporarily the pirate lass’s domain. Her mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk as she recognized the large, hulk, intimidating form of Marine-turned-pirate X Drake. His sharp blue eyes scanned the disheveled bar scene until they landed on Bonney’s lounging, grinning form.

“My, my. It seems this bar is already taken.” Bonney released a coquettish whimper as his low, rumbling, deep voice graced her pretty little ears; Bonney’s love of men nearly rivaled her love of food, and she would be a fool to deny that the muscled ginger cut a very attractive figure. His eyes were trained on her, waiting for her reaction, and Bonney instantly shifted into coy vixen mode. With a girlish flutter of her eyelashes, she began tracing intricate patterns into the exposed skin of her thigh and shifted her body to give him a healthy view of her assets.

“Nonsense, Drake,” she cooed invitingly. “The more the merrier. Come sit with me a while

Bonney refused to remove her feet from the table as Drake dragged a chair over to sit across from her; after all, her long, shapely legs were one of her best features, and like hell she wasn’t going to have them on full display for her handsome suitor. “Tell me,” she hummed while continuing to paint invisible patterns in her milky smooth skin, “what brings X Drake to this little spot in the sea?” His eye flickered uncomfortably to her swirling finger before darting back up to her.

“What brings Jewelry Bonney to this little spot in the sea?” he countered calmly. She fell back into the chair with an airy laugh; oh, he was playing along, how fun! She tilted her head, exposing her neck to him with every amount of suggestiveness, and eyed him good-humoredly.

“Oh, were you not aware? It’s my birthday, and this little joint happens to have the best birthday cake in all the Grand Line!” His expression remained stony.

“Happy birthday.” She pursed her lips in a disappointed pout, finally bringing her legs down from the table only to plaster her large chest across its surface; the blush crept further up Drake’s thick neck as they nearly spilled out of her flimsy ruffled tank top.

“Oh, Drakey, honey, surely you can manage more feeling than that?” she whined pitifully. “You make me think you don’t care!” The corner of his mouth tugged down into a very painful frown. Bonney was not one to let up the chase. The chair’s legs piercingly scraped the floor as she dragged it closer to him to wrap a dainty little hand around his thick bicep. His ears were burning pink now, and he looked away with a grunt as it blazed over his cheeks.

“What are you doing, woman?”

“Why, I’m just enjoying the company of a sexy man~” she answered unabashedly. “There’s nothing else to do while I wait for my birthday cake, so I might as well have a little fun Ahaha! Could he be shy with women? A weakness I never expected from him, but amusing all the same! “What is it?” she asked with a striking but false change in mood, her eyes growing big and wide and her lips poking out in a sad little pout. “Do you not think I’m pretty?” One of her many talents was crying on command, so it was nothing to will a few sparkling tears into her big brown eyes.

“What? I- no- of course- um,” he began stammering uncontrollably. As his face turned the color of a tomato, Bonney simply couldn’t help but begin chortling; oh, how easy it was to fluster him! “Y-you’re a very striking young lady…” he admitted after repairing the short-circuit in his frazzled brain. Bonney squealed in delight and then all but jumped into his lap, hooking her long legs at either side of the chair while she pressed her lower abdomen against his. Drake’s back slammed into the back of the chair in a pitiful effort to put distance between them, but the wooden structure prevented his escape. Chuckling darkly as her eyes glittered hungrily, she began running her nails lightly up and down his chiseled, exposed pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“Tell me, how do you get muscles like these? Your workout regimen must be brutal,” she tutted in mock sympathy.

“What are you doing?” he growled through clenched teeth. Bonney clicked her tongue and lightly tapped the underside of his chin.

“Oh, lighten up, honey; it’s just a bit of fun, like I said. What, do you not enjoy a strapping young fox like me on your lap? You want a little younger? Or a little older?” she asked tauntingly, using her Devil Fruit powers to alter her appearance in accordance to her questions. Drake had his head tilted back and eyes trained on the ceiling. Ah, his resistance was so much more satisfying than him drooling at her feet! His large hands suddenly jumped up to wrap firmly around her upper arms.

“This is not my idea of fun.” His tense growl was in direct opposite to the sneaking glance he shot at her cleavage. Bonney cooed like a dove, leaning forward to very purposefully press them against the X-mark tattooed to his chest. Her hand swept up to his head, knocking off his flared hat to begin teasing his styled golden-orange hair. “You are playing a dangerous game,” he warned with a pointed look, but this time made no effort to cease her ministrations. Bonney bit down on her tongue, giving a pleased wriggle on his lap as he began to relinquish himself to her teasing clutches.

“I love dangerous games,” she breathed against his face, eyelashes fluttering like innocent butterflies. His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm as he wrestled with his own pride and self-control; she was having such a way with him so easily, so of course the poor thing was resisting it. A vein was bulging in his forehead from how hard he was trying to curb Bonney’s temptations. Slowly, very slowly, his hands loosened and slid down her slim arms to settle at the curved juncture of her waist and hips. “Atta boy, Drakey,” she applauded, awarding him with another sensual fidget on her throne.

“I don’t know who’s the dangerous one here, me or you,” he laughed dryly. The man was finally beginning to enjoy himself, judging from the deprecating leer he was wearing. Bonney snickered as she traced the X-shaped scar decorating his prominent chin.

“Definitely me.” Her brown eyes flickered to the door of the kitchen as it was thrust open, and finally, finally, her birthday cake was ready. It was a massive specimen, made of four spongey tiers laden with buckets of thick white icing with gobs of bright pink icing painting the edges. It was covered in round rainbow sprinkles which were raining down onto the wooden floor as the three cooks hobbled towards the table, burdened by its massive weight. Bonney clapped her hands together with a trill of glee and whirled around so that her back was now resting against Drake’s broad chest.

“Are you really going to eat all that?” he asked with obvious concern. Bonney tutted and reached behind her to pat his cheek.

“Oh, honey, you really do know nothing about me. We’ll have to amend that,” she sighed deeply in play hurt. Her expression didn’t convey that in the slightest, however; her starving eyes were like glittering smoky quartz as she licked her lips, beholding the ginormous birthday cake as it was slid onto the table, ripe for her taking. Bonney was not one for propriety; she wasn’t going to take this baby a slice at a time. No sooner had the head chef handed her a large fork did she stab into the bottom tier of the cake, revealing the rich strawberry cake concealed beneath the curtain of white. She heard Drake choke as she shoveled a huge mass of the cake into her mouth. Instantaneously, she was delivered to the realm of sugary bliss. The strawberry cake was just the perfect texture and burst in sweet-tart sambas across her tongue, while the saccharine creamy icing waltzed in slower but no less powerful tunes in conjunction. With a small groan of pleasure, she melted against the very confused and confusingly aroused man seated beneath her petite frame. After the sweet fog cleared from her mind, she grinned devilishly and looked up at Drake, making quite a show of licking excess icing from the corner of her mouth.

“How cruel. You’re going to make me sit here and watch while I get nothing?” The way his deep bass voice rumbled against her back was so nice to Bonney. Coyly, she pressed a finger to her lips as feigned mulling the prospect over. Of course, there was no way in hell she was going to sacrifice even one sliver of her birthday cake to him, at least not yet… But, there was a way she could spin the situation further into her favor.

“Oh, what to do? You have been so generous in keeping me entertained, so perhaps I can let you have just a little taste,” she reasoned as she rolled her gaze around thoughtfully before landing on his face once more. Eyes trained on the smug and amused X Drake, she dipped a finger in the thick icing before smearing it all over her slightly puckered lips. His eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, and Bonney laughed delightedly while kicking the floor with the soles of her boots at the return of his bashfulness. He gulped and stared hard at the sweet icing decorating her soft and oh so very kissable lips. “What is it, Drakey?” she asked while twisting to the side to lounge against his thick arm, which was draped over the edge of the table. “You’d better hurry before I change my mind,” she said while teasingly flicking the top of her bottom lip with the very tip of her tongue.

“You are a seductress,” he snarled huskily at her in a blend of frustration and hilarity. Bonney arched her back into him as his face descended quickly over hers, hungry lips devouring hers in an instant. Bonney’s hand played with his now-mussed tufts of ginger hair as his tongue greedily licked every trace of icing from her lips. Of course he didn’t stop there; as Bonney laughed lightly, it dove into her mouth to tangle heatedly with her own, and she found the flavor of him mixing with the sweet taste of the icing to be simply immaculate. Happy birthday to me~

Bonney had ventured to this little hole-in-the-wall, backwater island for some simple birthday fun, but landing a big, tough, manly playmate for the night was definitely the icing on the cake…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

Tag List: @searchfortheonepiece

#one piece #bondrake #drake x bonney #bonney x drake #jewelry bonney #jewellrey bonney #x drake #diez drake #x drake x jewelry bonney #jeweldrake #romance #spicy #fluff #oneshot #oneshot collection #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic

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imthepunchlord · 5 years

Text

LfM Ch 4

Ao3

Marinette’s tongue stuck out in concentration, eyes locked on the sheet in front of her. The pencil glided along the page, shaping the body of her sketch. On her head, Tikki sat quietly, watching Marinette draw, enjoying the free Saturday they had.

Both of them had a start when there was a knock behind them. Tikki hid away as Marinette turned to her trapdoor, brow raised. “Hello?” she called out.

The trapdoor opened slowly, a freckled redhead peeking in. “Hello,” came the soft return, a tall, muscular girl coming into the room, looking awkward. “We haven't officially met yet, but I'm one of your classmates! Ondine! Ondine Bubbles. It's nice to meet you!” The girl offered her hand, smiling shyly.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she returned, shaking hands. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes! Um, Kim and Alix from Bustier’s class are going to race and I uh, promised to bring a banner, and Kim mentioned you were the go to girl from any sort of designs?”

Marinette’s beam was all the confirmation Ondine needed. Marinette waved to her chaise, prompting, “Have a seat! We'll talk details.” As Ondine sat, Marinette started to ask, “So, any ideas for a banner? Is there a theme? This being Kim, he’ll want something red and kinda crazy looking. And being a race, something bright and eye catching and exciting and… is there anything you know about Alix? I’d like to incorporate something for her too.”

She turned, seeing Ondine’s wide eyed stare on her. At Marinette’s concerned blink, Ondine whispered, “Woah. That has so much thought and so much detail.”

Marinette chuckled sheepishly. “Well, it helps to be organized when figuring out what your commission is, the details to incorporate, what to consider…”

“It's so admirable,” Ondine praised, making Marinette blush a little.

She cleared her throat, turning to Ondine, back to business. “So, do you possibly know Alix so I can consider her for this banner too?”

Aurore thought she was crazy and was making it annoyingly clear.

“That’s where hurricanes are brewed to perfection, ready to lash out at any fool that comes close,” she said, walking a few steps behind Marinette, arms crossed as she glared at the back of Marinette’s head. “And Hurricane Chloe will swallow you whole.” Aurore stopped at the first step, calling out, “I’m not going to do anything to pull you out of that storm!”

Marinette paused, turning to give Aurore a pout. “It’ll just be a few minutes!”

“That’s what a lot of storm chasers say!”

With a shake of her head, Marinette hurried up, ignoring Aurore’s grumble below her, heading inside the classroom. As Aurore anticipated, Chloe was quick to look her way, blue eyes locked on Marinette. Marinette quickly looked away, looking for Alix.

She saw her next to Mylene, right behind where Chloe sat.

Of course. Of course that’s where this Alix sits.

With a tight smile, well aware of Chloe and Sabrina’s eyes on her, Marinette came up to Mylene and Alix’s desk, their eyes on her, curious, though Alix looked more guarded. “Hi,” Marinette greeted, now very aware of everyone staring at her.

“Hi, Marinette!” Kim whispered shouted behind their desk, waving his hand wildly.

“Hi, Kim!” she returned, turing back to Alix. “I’m making a banner for the race between you and Kim.”

Alix perked, blue eyes brightening. “A banner?”

“Yep! And I wanted to know if there were any design themes you wanted for it.”

“Hey, what about me?!”

“I’ll get to you in a few minutes, Kim.”

Alix sat up, grinning. “Yeah, I’d love to have a banner made for the race.”

Marinette saw Chloe moving in the corner of her eye and requested, “Can we talk outside in the hall?”

“I’ll join too!” Kim insisted. “It’s part of my banner too!”

Marinette stepped back as Alix and Kim both raced out of the room, shoving each other in their rush to get out first. With an awkward smile to the class, she quickly followed, happy to get away from all the eyes in the room. As Aurore impatiently waited below, Marinette got the details, her banner planned out, and parted with a wave, promising it’ll be ready the day of the race.

Heading back to Mendeleiev’s class, Marinette gave Ondine a thumbs up when she saw her. The banner was set to be made.

Tikki could not stop staring at her, her dark blue eyes big and bright, full of marvel at what Marinette created. “It looks amazing, Marinette!” the kwami praised, darting to sit on Marinette’s shoulder, beaming as Marinette took a picture, sending it to Aurore. “They’re going to love it!”

“I hope so,” Marinette said. Ondine was going to be here soon to pick it up and take it to the race.

Marinette considered going since it sounded like fun, but learning that Chloe was going to be there, it sounded less fun.

“I hope I captured the energy of the event,” she continued,

“You did,” Tikki reassured, turning when she heard a bound of feet, and darted off to hide.

Ondine slipped into smiling brightly as she saw Marinette, then looked behind her, gasping to see the banner, stretched out in its crimson glory. “Woah,” she whispered.

“Glad you like it,” Marinette said, rolling up the banner and handing it to Ondine. “Let me know who wins.”

“Probably Alix,” Ondine said, giggling. With a goodbye, the redhead was off to join a race and Marinette was on her own, awaiting Nadja to come by in an hour. Aurore was off for another interview for the final of her race and wasn’t going to be free anytime soon, so Marinette settled with design a new shirt, a simple cute sun coming out behind the clouds.

She planned to wear it for Aurore’s big day.

As she worked, she let the news play, filling the room with white noise, till she heard the mention of an akuma. She paused, looking over her shoulder to eye her computer, seeing a green figure racing around in front of the Eiffel Tower, cackling as they touched people, leaving them frozen and starting to fade.

Tikki floated near, big eyed. “That doesn’t look good.”

“Isn’t that where the race is being held?” Marinette asked slowly.

If that’s Alix, did she become an akuma because she actually lost?

“Let’s hurry,” Tikki urged.

“Right,” Marinette agreed, getting up and hurrying to her balcony. She made a mental note to wrap this up and return as quickly as possible, just to be ready for Nadja when she came by.

When Ladybug arrived on the scene, pretty much all of Bustier’s class was frozen, and fading. She slowed to a stop, frowning as she gazed up at a transparent Kim, taking in his scared expression. Looking behind him, she could see Ondine, frozen in place, her eyes big as she reached for him. Around her were scattered classmates, all moving to escape, all wearing terrified expressions.

It was an unnerving scene to come upon.

She took a step forward, pausing when there was a soft chink under her foot. She looked down, seeing what looked like a broken watch under her foot.

“So you’re the culprit,” she murmured, not noticing the akuma racing her way, heading for her. She did notice the arms wrapping around her, scooping her up and carrying her away, just in time to avoid the akuma as she reached for Ladybug.

She squeaked as they landed, finding herself dipped down, Chat grinning at her. “Hello, My Lady,” he greeted, “it’s a lovely day, to race your way into my heart.”

He grinned at the flat stare Ladybug gave him, letting her stand up and straighten. They both turned to face the akuma, seeing her race towards them. “The situation?” Ladybug asked as she fell into a crouch.

“Timebreaker, caused because Mylene dropped Alix’s watch and she ran over it. And, Chloe, may, have bumped into her.”

Ladybug raised a brow, wonder if it was a bump.

Timebreaker was almost upon them as Chat told her, “Don’t let her touch you.”

They scattered, escaping Timebreaker’s grasp, starting the game of cat and mouse…

There was a squeal as Ladybug dropped out of the portal, rolling to a stop. She sat up with a groan, barely hearing the clatter of Timebreaker falling down the stairwell, grimacing. She moved to get up, only to stiffen when she heard the warning beep of her earrings. She barely had time to make sure that no one was able to pay attention to her as she detransformed, grabbing Tikki as the kwami dropped like a rock.

Tikki blinked rapidly in her palms, looking up at Marinette, frazzled.

“You ok?” Marinette asked.

“Ye-yes. Where’s Timebre—” Tikki collapsed, making a face. Marinette winced, putting the tired kwami in her bag, standing up to look for the akuma. She was able to see the crowd below, Chloe moving to hound Mylene.

With a grimace, Marinette started to seek out Timebreaker, wondering where the akuma went. She didn’t get far in her search when there was a shout above.

“Hey!”

She turned, seeing Ladybug drop down in front of her, giving her a critical look. “What’s going on? Tikki said she sensed herself...”

“Time traveling akuma,” Marinette quickly told her, “I’m you five minutes from the futur—”

Her cell went off, cutting into Marinette explanation. Tikki leaned out, holding onto Marinette ringing phone, looking tired. When Marinette took it, she slipped back in, returning to her cookie.

“Nadja,” both Ladybug and Marinette groaned, Marinette answering with a pout. “Hey, Nadja! This isn’t really the—”

“Where are you? I’m here in front of the bakery.”

Marinette blinked, starting to scowl. “You were scheduled an hour later,” Marinette pointed out.

“But I’m here now.”

‘Oh my god,’ Marinette mouthed to Ladybug, making her roll her eyes. Ladybug whispered, “Go give her the cake, I’ll handle this.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Marinette stressed as Nadja started to ramble off on the phone, disappointed in Marinette not being there or being responsible like expected. She ended the call with a slight scoff. “Don’t let the akuma touch you or Chat, you’ll start to fade from existence.”

“Got it.”

“See you in a few!” Marinette tore off, leaving Ladybug to face the akuma till her return and Chat’s appearance. She narrowed her eyes as Chloe shoved Mylene, sending the watch into Alix’s path, the catalyst for Timebreaker, and saw the other Timebreaker slide in, release a cry of rage.

“Time to break this cycle,” she declared, wishing Chat was here to hear that as she dropped down to join the chaos.

#different class au #leave for mendeleiev #miraculous ladybug

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kittycatgundam · 5 years

Text

Odd Omens

Chapter 5

I didn't care were I went or what happen to me I just to get far away. Someone grab my arm.

"Odette it me Aziraphale. Come with me to my place. Please? Let me talk to Crowley when he had a few days to cool down. You're upset and I'm here for you." Aziraphale said this as he hug me. "Come on let's get going."

"Ok." I said through tears.

It took a few minutes by Taxi to get to a old bookshop.

"Here we are, come in and welcome." Aziraphale said as grab my hand and pull me with him.

As soon we inside he took to the back room.

"Here have a seat and I get a warm cup of Coco. I be right back ok." Aziraphale told me.

I didn't to be alone anymore. I just realized that I hated been alone. I felt deeply hurt, all I could do was cry. I never had anything to lose before. I have found them and I was worry that I was losing them the friends I through I would never see again.

Aziraphale came back just as I was crying harder. I couldn't hold my tear back anymore. My heart couldn't take it anymore.

He sat the coco down on the table and ask me if I wanted to anything to eat I told him no. Sitting next to me and pulling me into a hug try to comfort me.

Aziraphale was sweet, comforting, and made me feel wanted. He held me in his arms while I cryed. I started to calm down a bit. I could smell his cologne which was more sweeter smelling then Crowley's cologne but was just as nice. The smell of his cologne soothe me. I pick my head off Aziraphale shoulder. He gave me a worry look as he wipe my tears from my eyes.

"Here let's clean that pretty face of your." He said as came closer.

His eyes held mine as he push my hair out my face.

He smile warmly at me. Then something happen that only happen in movie or in the books I readed. What happen? Something that even I couldn't believe.

we kissed! Well actually I kiss Aziraphale! Not on the cheek but on the lips. His lips were sweet and soft like angelfood cake. I didn't want stop kissing him. When the kiss was over I couldn't believe what I just done.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Don't worry about it." He told me."It the first time I been kiss though."

I turn beet red and got shy.

"You are so cute I see can why Crowley like teasing you. Don't worry I won't do that." He smile. "Drink your coco before it get cold."

I drunk the coco it was as sweet as his lips. Nope, stop think about it.

The next day I found a flat close to Aziraphale's bookshop and Crowley's flat. I went online to get furniture which was easier then shopping around. Now I have my own place.

I was doing a bit of shopping when I found out about a pet adoption event that was going on cloes by. Usually when I find out about these events I try to find where they are so I can donate some money. I don't adopt a pet because I usually don't stay in one place. But this time felt different.

"Hello, would like to adopt a pet today?" Asked the female volunteer worker. "You can also donate some money if you want?"

"I'm donating some money and I'm thinking about adopting pet." I told her.

"That great to hear, you know which one you want to adopt? Tell me which one you and we can get the paperwork started." She said as I look at the pets that were available.

Of course all the dogs were cuties I would have adopt one them if it weren't for a dog that had caught my eye it wasn't in the pen with the others.

The woker saw the dog as well as I did.

"How did you get out? Bad bog!" She said trying to grab the dog.

"Wait, I want to adopt that dog." I told her.

Now I had a dog, the worker give me information on a suggested vet and where the local pet supplies shops were.

The dog is a Corgi, light tan, brown, and cream color just like I wanted. Weird, but I didn't think much about it untill I got Aziraphale's book shop.

Before I opened the door to the book shop I look at the dog I named Bentley. Crowley's car kept coming to my mind when I named the dog. Crowley seem to coming to my mind ever now and then.

Damn,that demom back to hell. He still teasing me me even when he not around. Whatever, I'm not talking to that stupid, egotistical, and self-centered bastard untill he apologizes to me. No matter how charming he can be I will not say a word to him.

"Now, Bentley be a good boy and don't chew on any of Aziraphale's books." I told him as I open the door and went in.

"Hello, feel free to look around." Aziraphale said from somewhere in the book shop.

"It's me Aziraphale!" I yell.

"Oh, Odette I well be right with you. I'm just putting some book back in order." Aziraphale yell back.

"Take your time." I yell as I look around the shop.

"Look like the bad kitty got a new friend!" Said a voice I didn't want to hear.

I pretended not to hear him and took out a book I been reading from my bag. Big mistake!

Crowley took the book from me.

"Hey!"

"Seem our little kitty has a dirty mind. I wonder what you learn kitty or would you like to show me? I'm free if you want to educate me." Crowley smiled at me.

"Don't you have some evil scheme to put into action or do you just steal candy from babys." I fired back.

I grab my book back from Crowley and went to a little sofa to read.

Soon the little bell on the door ring, a very handsome man come into the shop. Aziraphale told him he be right with him in few minutes. The man look around, saw me and made his way to sofa.

He sat next to me and smile.

"Excuse me miss, but I was wondering if you would have a suggestion on a good book that might worth reading?" He asked me.

I just kept reading my book without looking at him hoping he would take the hint. Crowley on the other hand seem to get a bit irritated.

I felt someone sit on the other side of me.

"If you're looking for a new book you can check the shelves. I'm sure you find one you like." Said Crowley as put his arm around my shoulders.

I felt Crowley pulled me closer to himself. He seem to be acting like a kid who favorite toy was being eyed by another kid.

I could have just gotten up and walked away at least that's what I was trying to do. Crowley kept a hold me so I would stay right were he want me.

One more good pull and my book was knocked from my hands. I was facing Crowley he looked angry. I could see his eyes from under his dark sun glasses. When I look into those eyes they were sad like he in danger of losing me.

The man took hint and left the shop.

I felt like I was getting lost in Crowley eyes. The pull from those eyes was so magnetic. I felt like I under a spell. All I could think about was kissing his lips and it seem like that what he wanted to.

"Odette your eyes are silver." Aziraphale yall at me.

"What?" I said finally snapping out of it.

My eye return to blue as I push myself off Crowley and realized that Bentley had disappeared.

"Bentley?" I called.

"Don't worry he been with me this whole time, he such a good boy." Said Aziraphale patting Bentley on the head.

"Keep that thing away from me!" Yell Crowley.

Crowley seem like he was afraid of Bentley.

"It just a dog Crowley, so now demons are afraid of dogs." I said hugs Bentley.

"Demons are not afraid dogs. That not a dog! That a hell hound! How did it escaped from hell and why is it named after my car?" Said Crowley.

"You keep pop into my head ever now and then I couldn't help it. I also think your car cool." I said.

"You're doing the same to me. It's weird. The hell hound sure turn into a normal dog in due time. Just keep it away from me for while." Crowley told me.

I got closer to Crowley while I was holding Bentley. He back away from me. I put the dog down.

"I hear a hell hound escaped from hell a few years ago." Crowley told us. "Look like you found it kitty."

#good omens aziraphale #good omens crowley #good omens #good omen aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #aziraphale #angel and demon #angel

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ao3feed-gendrya · 5 years

Text

Blue nights Brown eyes

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2M2PgCn

by Neutralfan

This is my response to the last season of Game of Thrones: I REJECT YOUR REALITY AND SUBSTITUTE MY OWN! ~ Adam Savage

This is a Bran and Meera get together, Arya and Gendry get together, Sansa gets all the lemon cakes she wants, and what I would have done with "Robo" Bran.

Words: 5896, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Meera Reed, Bran Stark, Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Sansa Stark, Howland Reed, Jojen Reed

Relationships: Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters

Additional Tags: FIx It, Blood Raven - Freeform, Three eyed raven - Freeform, Wargs, King Jon Snow, Queen Daenerys, Bran Stark is King in the North, Getting Together, Dreams, Kissing, rated m for opening scene, And one more for implied violent death, Ramsey Boltons dog, No Beta, AU, cannon what cannon, Slight Cannon, The hound mentioned, a dog - Freeform

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2M2PgCn

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #gendrya #arya x gendry #axg

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all-hail-the-winterking · 5 years

Text

The Winterking

Lemon - NC-17 / frostwolf fanfic Sansa x Loki

TITLE OF STORY: The Winterking

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of 4

AUTORS BLOG: all-hail-the-winterking

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

GENRE: crossover Game of Thrones/Marvel

FIC SUMMARY: Loki rescuring Sansa by the battle of Blackwater

RATING: Mature NC-17

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: blood and lemon

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Frostwolf

Sansa stood with a smile on her lips at her window and watched the magic fire. Green flames licked at the wall of King's Landing.

She smelled the flesh of the burning bodys, heard the screams of Lanister soldiers and her heart beat faster. There was also the shouting and laughing of the strange horde of giants behind the wall.

The few she could see looked a bit like the Snowwalker the old nanny in Winterfell had told her about. And Bran. And Arya. This seemed a thousand years ago.

But these snowwalkers were blue like dirty ice, not white like snow. They were quick and sharp moving and danced more than they fought. Not the slow walk her nanny had told about the others. These giants were alive and strong - and killers.

„The world is built by killers“, she heard the Hound's last words in her mind.

He was here before. To save her, so he said. He truly thought these giants outside the wall would hurt her.

Sansa needed all her strength and courtesy to play the fearful maiden, but at last she had said no. He was a ugly, stinky, drunken dog … but she would not kick him.

He had saved her pretty face often enough, that she never would forget. At the end he was to proud to beg – the Gods are good! - and let go. She tried to calm him and sent him away.

'Let the mother look after him', Sansa thought and suddenly she heard the loud crackling sound of breaking wood. She could not see the Gate of Mudwater, but the shouts of triumph from the giants was answer enough.

'King's Landing will fall tonight. But for what?', she thought. 'Will he have me or his revenge?'

Could he forget Sansas choice? A choice she had made when she had been very young and very stupid.

She could have had the Winter Prince, a year ago. Although in exil for the moment and at this time without an own kingdom. But he was gentle and brave and strong and her father liked him very much.

By remembering her father, Sansas eyes started to fill with tears.

She had murdered her father, this she understood now. Murdered him with her wrong choice for the young and handsome prince of King's Landing.

'I had forgotten I am the blood of Winterfell', Sansa thought. 'The Winter Prince would had suited me well – not the Summer Prince. And my father had to die for this.'

All the things that had happened to her seemed like her punishment for her betrayal. The beating by the knights, the stripping in front of the court, the riot and the violence against her.

- "We have a guest." Sansa turned to her sister. Arya had stormed into her chamber without knocking, as usual dressed in boys clothes. "Father found him in the wood's!"

"What are you talking about?", Sansa laughed and rose from her chair. "A guest from the woods?"

For a silly moment she thought of the children of the woods and that Father had found one of this mystical creatures. She didn't knew how close she came with this idea.

"A sorcerer boy, well a prince. So he said.", Arya starts to explain. She took Sansa's hand and drew her sister to the window.

"Arg.. Arya! You are making me all dirty! Why must you be always such a mess?"

"Shh! Stop that and look!" Arya pointed outside the window to the back yard and the stable.

And Sansa saw Loki the first time.

A young man, slender and tens like a archer, sitting on a horse as if he was born on one. The pale, thin face full of confidence, his piercing green eyes intelligent and glittering in amusement. He rode with Lord Eddard and a group of hunters back to the stables.

Arya must had talked to loud there he looked up. Loki's eye catched Sansa and he smirked wide. -

Sansa sighed and tried to follow the fight under her window. Now she could watch the giants better. Blue skinned, red eyed, shouting, joyfully laughing, they smashed all living souls on the streets. This was no battle. This was slaughter.

So near by her window, the green magic fire like daylight, she realized the shiny knives in the hands of the giants were no knives. There were the giant's hands, morphed into sharp, icy spears.

Dead bodys piled against the inner wall and blood covered the cobbles in front of the Red Keep. She understood completly why the Hound was so afraid. Her own fear lay like a stone in her stomach. With wild beating heart and dry mouth Sansa saw the blue giants entering the Red Keep.

'What will happen to all the women?' The question hit her like a massive blow. If she was the queen, she would ask for mercy. She would beg to leave the women alone and take her instead. A queen had to be more valuable than a high lady.

"Ceisei“, Sansa whispered. This queen knew only one form of mercy. Sir Illen's sword.

Slow panic started to burn in Sansa. Should she go back and try to help? But what could she do? She was not the queen, she was only a traitor's daughter and a sweet slice of cake, she recalled bitterly. But Sansa prayed to the gods to have mercy, for Ceisei, too. She prayed so hard to the old gods, someone must have heard her!

Suddenly there were heavy footsteps near her chamber. Now it would happen. Someone came for her.

With shaking knees she sidled without a noise into the shadow of the door, so she could watch the entering person before he saw her.

Breathlessly Sansa saw the door open slowly, and the silhouette of a tall human entered her bedroom.

He held a candle in his right hand, which he raised to bring more light into her chamber.

By this light she recognized him. His hair laid now long and wild on his back and he was in full amour of heavy green leather and metal plating, which she had never sawn on him before.

The year before she left Winterfell, he was a gentle, joyfull man. But now he was one of them. A killer. Sansa saw this in the way he moved, the way he stood.

Suddenly he turned his head, and his green eyes caught hers.

Sansas heart stopped for a moment. His face had changed most. His youth and freshness was gone and replaced by pale skin and deep sunken eyes. There was a shimmer of rage and hunger in them, that made Sansa fear he had come finally just to hurt her.

"There you are“, he hissed. To Sansas relief he smiled softly. The exiled prince of frostland was not gone altogether.

With a careful move he went a step nearer and began: “I have a gift fo-“ but in this moment Sansa saw what this gift was, saw the fleshy thing of blond hair and blood and literally jumped in his arms.

„My King!“, she laughed and cried at the same time and covered his face with kisses and tears.

Surprises he let go of her gift and Sansa heard the sound of flesh and bones droped on the ground and felt his strong embrace at the same moment.

Their lips found each other and she pressed her mouth harshly on his.

He was bitter and cold and spicy and for her it was the best she ever tasted. „This time I will not let him go“, she thought and licked his lips.

#frostwolf #winterking #sansa x loki #crossover #fanfiction #chapter 1

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mistress-new-mistress · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Glass - Sansan fic

A/N: This is my first Sansan fic. Ever. I’m terrified. I hope to keep it going. I hope even more you like it.

Sandor always had trouble peeling hardboiled eggs, even as a boy—the shells were too delicate and his hands were too big and rough. He had smacked this one too hard on the table and created a web of shards that he had been picking at for more than half an hour. When he got tired, he would sigh heavily and look out the window of his room as an evening snow fell around Winterfell in the blue-black dusk.

Now, finally, he was beginning to see bits of the egg white underneath. A knock sounded on his door and he dropped the egg in frustration. “Come in,” he grumbled.

A handmaiden—Glissa or Glynda or some other stupid name—entered slowly with her head bent low. Her brown hair was tucked under a white scarf and her hands were dirty from sweeping the ashes of the many fireplaces. “Pardon, m’lord.”

“I’m not a lord,” Sandor said, picking up the egg and trying again.

“Yes, ser—”

“Not a ‘ser,’ either.”

The young, parchment-thin girl cast her eyes to the floor. “Lady Stark asks for your presence in the library tower.”

Sandor looked up at the young woman. “Which Stark?”

The maid blinked a few times, confused. To her, there was only one Lady Stark in Winterfell—the one whom Jon Snow named as his successor in his stead. The other Stark girl, more Wildling than woman, was no lady at all.

“Lady Sansa Stark,” the maid clarified.

Sandor stared at the meek girl for a moment, wondering what the little bird, Sansa, could want. Since his arrival, she had been mostly busy with her duties as ruler. He hardly ever saw her save for supper in the great hall, and even then, she was surrounded by advisors who tried to get a word in as they ate.

Sandor put the egg on his plate again and stood. The maid flinched. Most women did—hell, most men—due to his big, intimidating size. Sandor learned to ignore it. He followed the maid out of his room and down the corridors. He knew the way to the tower library, but gods be damned if these servants didn’t follow him, anyway. He tried not to take it personally, tried to tell himself that the little bird trusted him (why would she open her home to him, otherwise?), but Sandor couldn’t help feeling like a criminal no matter what.

They crossed the courtyard, snow swirling around them, and the little maid didn’t take her eyes off the ground. She shivered. Sandor wondered how such a frail thing in skirts and a scarf survived the harsh winter. He should have known by now that Northerners were made of stronger stuff.

They reached the tower and Sandor held his hand out at the foot of the staircase that spiraled up the outside of the tower. “I’ll take it from here,” he said.

The maid hesitated, then made an awkward curtsey and turned away. Sandor sighed through his nose and looked up at the tall tower. He started up the stairs, grumbling and wheezing. The air in this part of the world was thin and sharp, like breathing in shards of glass. He coughed as he neared the door, then pounded his fist against it.

“Come in,” the little bird sang.

Sandor opened the door and stepped inside the warm, cozy library. He closed it behind him and shook the snow off his thin cloak. Lady Stark was sat in a plush chair by the fire, a large book in her lap. She didn’t look up as The Hound entered, only turned a page and touched her right brow.

Sandor watched her, waiting for a signal so he could move or sit down. The firelight caught Sansa’s hair, turning it an impossible red that shone like glass melting in a kiln. Gods, how she had grown; no longer the little girl he had begrudgingly left in King’s Landing. He could see her shapely breasts and thin waist along the outlines of her dress. Her eyes were harder, too, no longer wind-eyed and innocent, but hard and cautious.

Finally, Sandor spoke. “What is it, little bird?”

“I wanted to see how you were getting along.” The girl read a few more lines in her book and looked up. “Please sit down.”

Sandor took the other chair across from Sansa and moved it a few inches away from the fire. He sat down, folding his hands between his legs. The little bird shut her book and set it on the floor. “So are you?” she asked. “Getting along?”

“Better than sleeping on the ground,” Sandor mumbled. “The ale is shite, though.”

The little bird smiled. That was one thing that didn’t change—her sweet, innocent smile as lovely as the day her mother no doubt taught it to her. The Hound looked away, his chest tightening. He glanced at the floor where Sansa had set her book and tilted his head to read the title.

“Abeth and the Forest.” Sandor chuckled despite himself. “I’m not surprised you’d read that dreck.”

Sansa looked at the Hound, bewildered. “You’ve read it?” she asked.

Sandor sat back against the lush chair, a smug grin on his chapped lips. “‘And so the forest closed in like the talons of a bird, crushing Abeth’s spirit. He gasped, though the road was empty and still.’”

Sansa’s lips curled upwards in surprise. A laugh escaped her, soft as a breeze through a field of wheat. “I always thought—”

“What?” Sandor barked. “That I couldn’t read? I had a maester ‘til I was twelve.” The large man crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled, “Lot of good it did. Books are useless when a longsword is pointed at your cock.” Sandor chanced a look at the little bird. It was his intention to offend her. He delighted in the way her face would blanch whenever he spoke vulgarities. It was like ruffling a shaggy dog’s hair.

But Sansa continued smiling. She stood from her chair and walked to the writing desk by the window. “I have something for you,” the little bird said. She picked up a large bundle and carried it to the fire, holding it out before Sandor.

The Hound studied the pile of fur and wool, then looked up at Sansa. “What is it?”

When he wouldn’t take the bundle, Sansa rolled her eyes, stepped back, and unfurled the cloth to reveal a long black cloak with a fur lining. It was embroidered along the edges with the Clegane house sigil—three black dogs against gold thread.

Sandor stood, towering over the little bird as he studied the garment. It would fit, that much he knew, but where it came from and why eluded him. Was it a bribe to stay in Winterfell? To bend the knee and pledge loyalty to the Starks? Or was it simply charity? Sandor hated either scenarios.

“I made it for you,” Sansa said. Her grin hadn’t faded since leaving her chair. “I had to ask Beric for some basic measurements, but—”

“Why?” the Hound rasped.

Sansa frowned. “Why what?”

“Why did you waste your time with something like this?”

Sansa’s porcelain face turned as hard as a rock. She draped the heavy cloak over her arm and took a bold step towards Sandor. “You need something warmer to survive the winter. That cloak you have now couldn’t shield a sigh, let alone a blizzard. Take it.”

As Sansa held the cloak out to him again, the Hound felt his insides become a bundle of hot coals, embers threatening to spit from his mouth. His first instinct was to throw the cloak to the ground, to holler at the girl for being so naïve. Nothing came without conditions, and Sandor had enough guilt to bother with while lodging at Winterfell from eating their food and using their wood for his fire.

“I don’t want to be beholden to you,” Sandor said, checking his temper with a deep inhale. “I owe you enough as it is.”

Sansa’s face twisted in confusion. Her brows knitted together and the left side of her mouth hitched up in a curious way. It was as though the Hound had told her snow was just piss from the gods. “Owe me?” the girl exclaimed. She shook her head, looking down to make sense of his words. “You saved me countless times in King’s Landing. You kept my sister safe while traveling the length of Westeros.” Sansa looked up again at the Hound. “This cloak isn’t just a gift . . . it’s a thank-you.”

Sandor stared into the young woman’s blue eyes. She was earnest, not a hint of mockery or fear in her voice. She wasn’t trying to appease him or appeal to his sensibilities—she was simply stating facts. Sansa owned him her life, and a hand-stitched cloak was only a fraction of what he deserved.

The Hound sighed through his nose. He took the cloak from Sansa and put it on over his old one. The fur was soft against his beard. It smelled of citrus and parchment ink. A flicker of a thought passed Sandor’s mind: what this was the Lady’s room smelled like? He imagined her sitting on her bed, a candle flickering as she stitched the wool and fur, fingers sticky from lemon cakes. Sandor unconsciously licked his lips.

Sansa’s smile returned. “It suits you,” she said.

Sandor looked away, trying to hide his grin. A man of his size was hard to miss, especially when sporting something so rare. A smile. The hot coals in the Hound’s stomach melted into warm liquid that spread to his toes and face.

“You can say ‘thank you,’” Sansa teased. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Sandor rubbed the back of his neck. The cloak and the fire and the circular room made him sweat. The scar on his face tingled. He cleared his throat loudly, and, more forceful than he intended, took Lady Sansa’s hand and kissed it palm down.

“Thankhmphhoo,” Sandor muttered. He released the little bird’s hand, turned quickly on his heel, and left the tower with a great gust of wind and a slam of the door.

Sansa stood in the library, dumbstruck. She looked at her hand. The Hound’s lips were as rough and uncomely as his manners, but the kiss itself was quick and feather light. Sansa almost wondered if she had imagined it.

With the young woman reeling, Sandor raced down the tower steps to the courtyard. No one was there to greet him or escort him back to his room; most were probably settling in to sleep. The Hound slowed as he trudged through the snow. He glanced over his shoulder at the library tower and a candle was burning in the window.

Sandor turned his head back around and pulled the cloak tighter around himself. It was the warmest he had felt since arriving at Winterfell.

#sansan #sansan fic #sansa x sandor #the hound and the bird #got fic #sansa and the hound #sansa and sandor #sandor clegane #sansa stark #sandor x sansa #sandor and sansa

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