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faintblueivy · 4 years

Text

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER.

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be.

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home.

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself.

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy.

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again.

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing.

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets.

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne.

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares.

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically.

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal.

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy.

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.”

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.”

Martha has been told what she needs to know.

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation.

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim.

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs.

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim.

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention.

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed.

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side.

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl.

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that.

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’.

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham.

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears.

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own?

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm.

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for.

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place.

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny.

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.”

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother.

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return.

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest.

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself.

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation.

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life.

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren.

Would he accept them? As family?

Would he love them? As family?

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

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aareyna · 3 years

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Death.

Sidon ran, ran, ran. Ran as fast as his muscles allowed. Word had reached him that the Calamity could no longer be contained by the princess – and that the time for Link to face off his old enemy one final time had come.

Never once did Sidon doubt Link’s ability to defeat the Calamity; at least not in a healthy and strong state. But, only a few days ago, Link had reclaimed control over Vah Naboris and defeated Thunderblight Ganon. Victories that the Gerudos celebrated; Vah Naboris reign of terror had finally ended.

But during his fight against Thunderblight Ganon, Link had acquired dangerous wounds; most of them would have killed anyone other than the Hero of Hyrule instantly.

He had been informed by Fyson; a Rito who worked and lived in Tarrey Town and had been sent towards the Zora Domain by the town’s priest: the elderly Zora Kapson. Tarrey Town had grown to become a respectable trading town with lots of traffic from all the different cultures of Hyrule. The information had reached Tarrey Town faster than the Zora Domain, and upon learning it, Kapson had known that Sidon needed to know immediately. No one could travel faster than the Rito merchant, so it had become his task to deliver the news as fast as his wings allowed him to fly.

Sidon had left the Domain as soon as he had learned about Link’s weakened state and the Calamity’s break out of the princess’ magic; he hoped he wasn’t too late, he hoped he could reach Link in time to aid him and prevent the worst scenario from happening.

Climbing the stairs and reaching the top part of the castle took what felt like forever. His legs weren’t made for climbing purposes; no matter how much he pushed his muscles, it felt like it took him forever to reach the top.

The Sanctum was right in front of him; it only would take a few more moments. Sidon couldn’t hear any sounds of fighting. He couldn’t hear anything and that scared him more than anything ever had before.

Sidon came to a scattering hold as he entered the large room. The first thing he noticed were the pools of blood soaking the floor. Sidon hoped, prayed, that it was the Calamity’s.

Panic arose as he realized that the Sanctum was otherwise empty. Calm down, he told himself, and ran outside again to look for his beloved friend. (Not just a friend, his mind whispered traitorously.)

After some frantic searching, Sidon finally made out the massive corpse of a hog-like looking monster lying in the distance; and within a moment he knew that he looked at the corpse of Calamity Ganon. The smaller figure, as well as a dainty silhouette leaning over the figure made his heart drop. He felt nauseous. No, he told himself, he wouldn’t let his panic take over.

As soon as his body could take him, he rushed over to the collapsed figure.

The princess, he now could see, leaned over him – over Link. Sidon prayed to Hylia and whatever gods and goddesses may be out there, that Link was okay. Exhausted, unconscious, too tired to get up, but that he at least was okay.

His hopes were crushed upon hearing the princess’ sorrowful sobbing.

No… no, this couldn’t be… Please, he prayed, please no.

He crashed down on the other side of Link’s body, mirroring Zelda and grabbing the free hand.

“Link… Link, my dearest friend. You’re safe now. I’ll take you to a healer – you’re safe now.”

Tears filled his vision and his whole world became blurry. The pulse underneath his fingers was painfully weak – Sidon felt it slowing with every single heartbeat.

“It’s okay. I’ll take you to the healer, you are okay.”

Zelda was saying something; Sidon couldn’t hear it over the roaring of his own pulse.

The grass underneath him was soakes in blood; and this time Sidon knew it was the hero's.

Recognition washed over Link’s face; he lifted the hand previously held by Sidon’s much larger one. The smile Link gifted him with killed something deep within Sidon’s chest. Weak, shaking fingers touched his face and clumsily petted the wet traces of tears.

“Don’t cry… it’s okay now.” The whisper was almost inaudible in its weakness, but to Sidon, it felt like Link had screamed them and destroyed his eardrums with their impact.

A moment later, all strength left Link’s body and Sidon’s whole world shattered right in front of him.

Send me a one-word Sidlink prompt!

#sidlink fic #sidon x link #sidlink #link x sidon #dark fic #sidon #death

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autisticzukka · 3 years

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what is this hakoda zuko arranged marriage you speak of? i am intrigued

okay so the long story short is that it’s a slight rebuttal of a popular post that is very fun but i find like... unrealistic in a really intriguing way like, how would this ACTUALLY play out. I’ve talked about it at length in my server a few times, and it’s one of those AU’s -- like the genderbend zukka ATLA rewrite or the zukki fic that starts with sokka failing to assassinate zuko -- that lives rent free in my head and I’ve written a couple thousand words for.

tw for like VERY unrequited zuko in love with hakoda and the inherent comedy of sokka being in love with his fire nation stepmom.

so here’s hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, happily not-married to Bato. and here is a more balanced war, where the north and the south are actually allies, rather than whatever the fuck they were in ATLA. Yue already has a fiance and the Northern chief refuses to remarry. that leaves hakoda responsible for biting the bullet and doing a political marriage even though, as he points out at length, he is an elected official and if he stops being elected it’s no longer a marriage with the chief of the south pole. intelligently but mostly selfishly motivated (yue’s fiance is his nephew, after all) pakku points out that its not like the fire nation knows... that. the fire nation is dumb. ozai’s stupid.

faced with such inarguable points hakoda stiffens his upper lip, pre-emptively ends things with bato on the understanding that if this is another kya situation they’ll get back together and that he’s still the most important person to him but the tribe comes first yada yada, and deals with katara throwing the mother of all tantrums. it is slightly softened by the fact that in return for him marrying the fire nation noble, a thing everyone can agree isn’t traditional, the north has finally agreed to train katara. she heads out before the wedding, in protest but also so as to not cause an international incident.

(on her way, she’ll find aang. with the war less dire, katara will be sympathetic towards his desire to live without committing violence, even if she deeply can’t relate. they’ll have a hot girl romcom summer of self discovery and coming to terms with the dichotomy between duty and love as they become master benders. at some point they pick up toph. they ARE a throuple.)

sokka meanwhile is like.. not cool with it.. but ? kind of relieved? like. he’s the eldest kid. he’s 18, and he’s been a man of the tribe as far as legalities for several years. it would have been entirely understandable if his dad had asked HIM to do it. he had his emotionally crushing romance with yue, and as much as he was like ‘im kind of a prince’, he finds he doesn’t actually want some of the responsibilities and demands that would bring. yue’s life sucks.

back in the fire nation, zuko never demanded a quest and never went on it. he’s spent years hardening into something that, while brittle, can survive the pressures of the court around him. he still has his scar. he still wants his father to love him, but he knows by now that it’s not something he’s capable of earning. he watches his sister, never the most stable person, start to have complete breakdowns of sanity once she hits puberty, and helps her cover for it and receive medical treatment on the down low. he’s the heir, but he lives knowing that if he was ever in a position to inherit his choices are to abdicate or have the baby sister who he raised kill him and destroy herself and the country in the process.

when he realizes the plan is to marry azula off rather than someone more reasonable-- mai is RIGHT there, for fucks sake-- he doesn’t realize ozai’s true intent is to fuck this up through malicious compliance and false shows of good faith. he panics, and does the zuko thing: he blurts out that this is unacceptable and immoral and she’s only 16 and Ozai sees the true opportunity for two birds with one stone. send zuko, let him piss someone off so badly he gets killed or divorced, and he gets rid of zuko from the line of succession permanently. there are those who are incredibly attached to teh idea of a firstborn for firelord, and it’s been a constant thorn in unpopular ozai’s side to nto be able to name azula his heir apparent without costly rebellion. but if he can taint him in the mind of the fire nation so much that birthright is easy to supercede-- yeah. this’ll work PERFECTLY.

so zuko is sent to marry hakoda, chief of the water tribe.

literally NO ONE was expecting it to be a member of Ozai’s immediate family. besides the fact that his oldest child is half hakoda’s age and his brother has 20 years on hakoda, it would have been sus as fuck - the treaty is not favorable enough to grant that kind of secession of interests. it becomes quickly apparent that this young man -- hakoda reminds himself of that repeatedly. not kid. not kid. young man. don’t think of him like a kid, it’s hard enough on both of us already. -- is not a horrible threat. he’s scared shitless and shakes with what he thinks is bravado. he’s desperate to make the marriage work. he’s desperate to not go home. he’s got a giant fucking scar on his face from where the fire lord punished him for some grievous but unstated offense.

zuko “daddy issues” fire nation sees his husband to be and, despite being scared shitless, immediately begins to soften a little. like... he’s not nearly as scary as he thought he’d be. his face can be stern, but it just as easily breaks into huge smiles, and his eyes are crinkled with laughter. he’s incredibly handsome. and his biceps are. his biceps. are. his hands are...

like. zuko thinks. okay. maybe. maybe his marriage duties. won’t be so horrible as he thought. maybe he’s ready for this. and he knows what to expect, Uncle had discreetly provided him the means and the contacts to acquire an intimate education in the whirlwind of activity that was the two months before leaving. and like, once he’d gotten past the nerves, it was often even... good? or at least... not bad? he thinks that even if hakoda isn’t a professional expert, he has a certain.... je ne sais quoi, if you will.

((DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF))

sokka sees his new stepfather and immediately falls in love because he’s that kind of dumb bitch. (the core of this au is that i cant breathe thinking about sokka falling in love with his hot young stepmom his age who his dad doesnt even want to fuck. like. i CANT. sokka masturbates to ‘hand caught in the washing tub’ fantasies which are even more absurd for requiring zuko to be DOING LAUNDRY. i find it so funny.)

bato watches them at the wedding feast while hakoda is very clearly trying to treat zuko as an Equal Adult Partner and mostly managing to seem like someone having a serious conversation with a seven year old about the game they’ve made up. zuko is clearly enamored with it, soaking up the attention, blushing and doing his best to Bravely Flirt, which at one point includes awkwardly attempting to feed Hakoda by hand. bato has to excuse himself to have a teary eyed giggle, hoping that Kya is in the spirit world looking down and laughing with him. he can’t resent the kid even a little bit, when hakoda is sitting there looking so incredibly fucking befuddled as to what he’s supposed to do with this star struck infant he’s legally wed to

anyways all of this... is very funny. their wedding night... is less so. zuko does not take the rejection from hakoda very well, especially because he’d been caught wanting. HE’S the one who should be rejecting hakoda. and he catastrophizes almost immediately about his potential value to the water tribe, his future treatment, that endless inescapable freezing cold loneliness is the good ending for him here... hakoda, meanwhile, drops zuko off at his home, reassuringly informs him that there’s NOTHING else expected of him and he will be well taken care of, and books it to bato’s. bato refuses to let him in on grounds of ‘you can’t sleep under the same shelter as me on your wedding night to that kid, have a fucking brain’, and he ends up crashing at sokka’s.

sokka, who had KNOWN that his dad wouldnt, but also upon seeing zuko and zuko’s awkward flirting was like... but how COULDNT he???? sokka is relieved.

the core of this fic is that i find it endlessly hilarious for zuko to try and seduce his husband while sokka simps around zuko and bato tries to be heartbroken or betrayed but mostly ends up with a giant case of hysterical schadenfreude. but the thing that CLINCHED it for me, like THE scene. several years after being married, settled into their life. they’re partners and they see each other as people. and zuko just fucking snaps one night

he just kisses him, desperate and clawing and climbing and maybe a little drunk. he knows hakoda is going to push him away, maybe even hit him, but he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. he can do anything he wants to him as long as he just-- finally does something. zuko is 21 and married to the surface of the sun and the surface of the sun jr is his best friend and clearly in love with him-- so clearly not even zuko can miss it-- and like. listen. listen. zuko is not a patient person. but he’s been patient for this. he waited and he matured and he is a fucking amazing husband and he wants this, he wants him. he wants to be wanted.

but hakoda doesn’t push him away. hakoda doesnt yell at him, or hit him. hakoda gentles the kiss into something soft and closed lipped. he pulls away slowly, and his eyes are so sad for zuko, so pitying. he strokes his cheek with the back of his hand so gently. he says, I’m sorry. I don’t want you.

and zuko daddy issues fire nation swallows

and he nods

and he leaves, even though its his own fucking house

and he knows he’s never going to be good enough

like FUUUCK i am OBSESSED WITH THAT

#long post #lmao i am NOT fucking main tagging this #op #asked and answered #i just want zuko to fall in love with hakoda and for hakoda to gently reject him #noncommittalhum

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indiecentwriter · 3 years

Note

So I heard Pyrrha and Weiss are having a "friendly" competition. Hard to imagine two lovely girls like them arguing who's sexier and then deciding to prove it by seeing who can make more money being hookers on a street corner for a night.

The competition certainly did beg both girls to do something they were strangers to until then. Their competitive nature meant they had no choice but to go through with it, but the method of how they approached the situation varied between them.

They first found two areas that, by the information they worked hard to acquire, would have the same level of traffic going through it. No worries about one girl winning because not a single person walked or drove by the other. At that point, it only mattered who would get the most customers to pay the most money.

It didn’t take long for Pyrrha to get her first customer. A man that slammed on the breaks when he saw her, nothing but some tiny unzipped jean shorts and an ill-fitting crop top on her body. He stopped not only for that view but also thanks to her greatest asset; recognition. He was a stammering mess as he tried to verify that she was actually Pyrrha Nikos, while Pyrrha merely told him that whether she was or wasn’t, he shouldn’t pass up the chance. Every customer from him onward paid her high prices without complaint.

Then, as soon as the money went into her hand, Pyrrha took them to the alley just to the side and peeled off those tiny shorts. They were drooling just as much as her soaked pussy by the time she propped herself against the wall, sticking out her perfect ass and telling them to have their way with her.

Weiss, alternatively, had fame to her name but not as much her appearance. If she wished to get her customers, she needed a clever plan. And so, in a thong, heels, and not a scrap else, Weiss walked that curb until she got the attention of an unruly group of young men. They came up to her, asked how much, and she let them know it would be absolutely free on one condition.

They had to call every friend they had to come to join in and pay for a turn with her.

Her thong got ripped away in seconds as the first man forced her against the wall, shoving his cock into her as he held his phone to his ear. Everyone else watching in disbelief and excitement as they called, texted, and posted pictures of the action online, letting everyone know what was happening. Her name managed to get out thanks to those pictures and even more came along for a turn.

By the end of the night, Pyrrha had enough money to pay for her next year’s tuition thanks to the consistent stream of well-paying customers. She sucked and fucked a wider variety of cocks than she knew existed, but took the soreness of her holes and the weight of her stack of cash as tokens of pride.

Weiss, alternatively, woke up in an alley she didn’t remember moving to. Her shoes were gone as she sat upon a dirty mattress, looking around to get her bearings. Her body was covered in cum, most of it dried while stum still glistened in the rising sunlight. Every muscle ached, her jaw and lower body particularly pained as though Yang went ten rounds in the ring with her without her aura. It took some time to find the discarded backpack someone loaned her, stuffed to the brim with loose bills and coins people used to pay her low prices. She felt confident she would win with so much, though Weiss recalled getting so lost in the pleasure of it all that she stopped charging halfway through the night.

To each girl’s disappointment, their lien matched to the very cent. They would have to rematch in some other way, maybe most views on a sextape?

#thegrimmrwbyfanblog #weiss #pyrrha

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Note

Fic request for touristy Maximoff family? (bc Vision's 'drunk' awkwardness in Wandavision ep 2 where he apologised to a handrail, is something that I as a Brit intensely and deeply relate to, and it reminded me of them hiding out in the UK in IW which also made me v emotional- they deserved better!)

Thanks for the ask! They really did deserve better and hopefully might get some happiness at some point. I hope you enjoy their family day trip!

***

“Where are the witches?”

Vision folds the map into a square and slides it back into his fanny pack, nonchalance embedded in the action “Oh, there are no witches.”

This isn’t what Billy wants to hear, “You said this is Witch House.”

“I did, yes.”

The conversation circles back around, “Then where are the witches?”

“Well technically there were never any true witches here in the first place.” Billy stares at Vision, betrayal drooping his mouth down into a deep and unforgiving frown. A history lesson isn’t going to save the moment, and yet her husband tries, determined to share the two weeks worth of research he’s conducted since they decided on the trip. “It is called Witch House because it was owned by Judge Jonathon Corwin who presided over some of the witch trials. Now, though some like to say witchcraft was rampant at the time, it in fact was -”

“But I wanted witches.” This is true, it was Billy’s only request—spooky witches to be precise. “You said there’d be witches.”

Tommy isn’t fully invested in the trip, having voted to go to an amusement park for their fall get-away, but he never passes up an opportunity to pile onto a complaint. “Yeah, where are the witches, dad?”

“Salem has far greater historical value than just the witch trials.” Not a smart tactic, which Vision realizes as soon as he says it, face scrunching up at the misstep while the gears in his eyes rotate furiously to the left signifying he’s attempting to figure out how to regain their confidence. “Um, from my understanding there may be some modern day witches in the village who provide tours and demonstrations. We can stop by once we have seen everything.”

This earns some consideration from their ten year olds. “Real witches or like herbal tea witches?”

Tommy piggybacks on his brother’s question, “Will they turn Billy into a frog?”

“No one is being transformed into an amphibian,” Vision reassures them.

“Lame.” Only a half hour in and the L word is out in the open, a new record for the Maximoffs.

Wanda rolls her eyes at the rebuttal and studies the building in front of them, a foreboding tiered facade with black wood trim that would fit right into a horror movie. Briefly she wonders if it was always black or if that was added to enhance the supernatural identity the town developed once they realized the tourism potential of their sordid past. If ominousness is what sells here, she knows how to reclaim their trip. “Vizh,” her husband meets her gaze,the exasperation of parenthood making him seem particularly desperate for her thoughts, “There was at least one witch you can tell them about.” Confusion crinkles his brow, “Agatha.”

Realization dawns, as if he had blocked out all memories of dear old Agatha. “Ah yes Agatha Harkness.” The name falters on his lips, uncertainty making residence in his body with the wringing of his hands. “I am not sure they are old enough to hear about-“

“You owe us a witch, dad.” Tommy is very dedicated now, a grave frown on his face and an arm wrapped tenderly around his twin’s shoulders. “Billy deserves a witch.”

Vision folds, shoulders inching down in submission of their desires. “Agatha Harkness,” it is not that they have had bad experiences, per se, with Agatha, but she always intersects with their lives at moments of both wonderful highs and crippling lows, which is why Vision seems to weigh her name so heavily. “You will not see the name Agatha Harkness in any of the books about Salem.” Wanda can feel Vision mentally shut the books of information he’d acquired for the day. “She was a witch, a real one and very powerful as well as very old.”

“How old?” Billy’s eyes are shining at the change in tone for the trip. “Like ancient?”

“Positively ancient.” An enormous grin erupts on Billy’s face, while Tommy stands unusually rapt. “There are accounts of her presence all the way back to 10,500 BC, there are even rumors she was involved in the lost city of Atl-”

A cloyingly sweet and chipper “Excuse me,” breaks the story and the atmosphere. The voice belongs to a short, blonde haired woman in a puffy vest and flannel shirt, “I couldn’t help but overhear your tour and was hoping we could join.” The we is a man a few years older than the woman, his gray mustache thick enough to hide whatever his feelings are about the request.

Vision’s lips part and then close a few times, hand half raised as he processes the intrusion. “Oh um, this is a uh private tour,” a nervous, placating smile tries to shoo away the couple. It doesn’t work, neither does his, “Terribly sorry for the confusion.”

Typically on their trips people come up to them because they are Avengers, but Wanda doesn’t detect the same motivation from the couple, neither seeming to actually recognize them. The husband appears a bit concerned about Vision’s appearance while the wife assumes it is for show, “Oh well, you just seem dressed the part, you little devil,” Wanda tries not to laugh, something Tommy fails at, chuckling at the way the comment wilts his father further. Whoever this woman is ignores the reaction, soldiering on ahead as if it is her job to get what she wants. “And you are giving this beautiful family such a lovely tour. We’d love to join in.”

Vision weighs his response, eyes first surveying the very clearly matching sweatshirts they are wearing, this year’s travel theme the Maximoff Bunch. Each of them has a navy sweatshirt with Cambria font declaring their role-- Vision’s sweatshirt (that is real clothing, not molecularly manipulated so that he has a keepsake from their trip) is emblazoned with Papa-ya, their less than thrilled 10 year olds are sporting ones labeled Bil(ly)berry and Tommy-rillo, and Wanda’s deviates a bit with Mom-osa, Vision crushed to not find a fruit close enough to mom to complete the bunch. This should be enough to convince this woman that they are all a family and not a tour group...and yet she just keeps smiling sweetly at Vision until he gives in. “We’re happy to pay.”

Now Vision turns towards Wanda, searching for a response or a rescue. She doesn’t get a chance to help, Tommy speaking up first, “Fifty a person fair?”

“Thomas I do not-”

“Completely fair.”

The glare from Vision assures their son that they are going to talk about this on the ride home, Tommy’s impulsivity almost always at odds with Vision’s desire for control and planning.

Vision turns towards the couple, hands clasped tightly in a sign that another apology is on it’s way but it is stopped by Billy recentering their attention to what is most important. “How can Agatha be so old?”

Faced with numerous smiling and eager faces, Vision seems to accept his newfound role with a deep, soundless sigh, “Well, she is a very powerful witch, one who even survived the Salem Witch Trials.”

“No way!”

“Very much so. Let us return to 10,500 BC first.” Now that he is free to regale them with history, albeit seasoned with a heaping amount of occult, Vision finds his element. They learn about how Agatha came to be in Salem, about the Witch House and the judge who dwelled there, of the frenzy that occurred in people pointing fingers at anyone who was suspicious or merely disliked. The boys are enraptured listening to the tales of injustice and prejudice and, as they move from the Witch House to the hill on which many witches were burned at the stake, their little tour group increases in size, a trail of eight people joining on.

Surprisingly her husband takes it all in stride, welcoming each new person and asking their name. What really seems to excite Vision is when their crew asks questions. One of the newbies stops him during his soliloquy on what behaviors were deemed witchy. “Is it true that witches danced naked?”

Vision’s charm is on full display, lips cocked to the side as he shakes his head at the idiocy of the past, “Merely a salacious rumor because titillation is more convincing than honesty.”

A voice from the back of the group declares, “That’s because history is written by lonely men.”

Without missing a beat, her husband nods appreciatively at the running commentary from this particular guest, “A very astute observation, Taiyah, yet again. Now let’s turn our attention back to the Court of Oyer and Terminer.”

As the tour keeps moving through the harrowed landmarks, Billy is at the front, always just to the side of Vision, soaking in every word of information. Tommy, on the other hand, oscillates between the front and the back, eventually deciding to stick with Wanda. “This is starting to get a bit lame.”

“Your father and brother are having fun.”

His annoyed sigh seeks companionship, which she won’t give because she’s enjoying herself as well. “It’s just so much talking.” It is more than Tommy is ever willing to listen to, his mind and body always seconds, if not hours, ahead of them all. “Where’s the excitement?”

Sweeping the environment is a key aspect of missions and right now Wanda has assessed that the majority of the group are crowded around a tree, listening to the story of how Agatha supported parts of the trials out of a need to cull the weaker witches and remove her competition, it is a dark aspect of the tour, barely a sound existing to interfere with Vision’s explanation of the witch’s intentions. “Watch this.” Tommy stares at Wanda as she lifts her hand, scarlet undulating around her fingers, and then she flicks a finger, the tree trembling mightily despite no breeze to speak of. Several people gasp, one woman screams, and instantly Vision locks eyes with her, not one to ever be deceived by her influence. She expects irritation at disrupting his story, but instead there’s a little spark of mischief in his swirling irises, an almost imperceptible uptick to the left corner of his mouth that takes all her energy not to go and enjoy.

“Don’t you all tell us not to do that?” Tommy’s voice is bated, eager to figure out if their limits on use of powers in public is about to be lessened.

“No one goes on a witch tour without hoping for a little bit of magic.” The shit eating grin on his face is almost a perfect replica of Pietro’s and one she can’t help but mirror. “Just watch and learn.”

***

By the time they reach the Witch Village, the agreed upon conclusion of their tour, Vision can’t get a word in edgewise, the entire group riled up, swapping observations of the branches that moved without wind, the sense of dread that engulfed their minds at the guilty verdict of Agatha, or the heat they felt when the pyre was verbally lit. It’s this sense of awe that makes not a single person listen to Vision’s insistent, “Sorry, please, I do not want your money. Please, keep it for yourselves.” Instead of listening to him, everyone shoves their payment into the cup that Tommy so helpfully procured from the concession stand nearby.

Once all the people are gone, it is just the Maximoffs once again. “Was that sufficient in witches?”

Billy’s enthusiastic nods sends his hair bobbing with glee. “So awesome.”

“I have a question,” this comes from Tommy, who has already bought an ice cream cone with their earnings, the swirl of chocolate and vanilla towering up from his fist, “would we have been considered witches back then?”

“Well,” Vision’s arm snakes around her waist, pulling her until their hips are touching, the pride in his voice wrapping her even more snugly with his affection, “your mother already is a stunning one.”

“Gross.”

“And I no doubt would be viewed as inherently supernatural and thus evil,” something that is said with levity instead of the usual depths of despair that accompanies Vision’s grapple with humanity. “The two of you would also be suspect, simply from your parentage but also, well-”

“So the answer is yes?” Vision concedes with a nod. “Great, wanna go take a picture in the arm thingies over there?” They follow the ice cream cone as it points them towards a small square where people are taking turns putting their heads and hands through the holes.

“That would be a pillory,” Vision helpfully defines, but neither of their sons are listening, having already taken off to join the line for the photo op.

Wanda takes their brief solitude to encircle his waist with her arm, squeezing him tight and kissing his shoulder. “You have fun?”

His arm moves to rest along her shoulders, “Surprisingly yes, it was a bit exhilarating to have a truly captive audience.”

Wanda hugs him tighter, “Good.” Billy and Tommy wave them over, only ten people now ahead of them in line. They look so carefree, jostling each other with whatever it is they are bickering about now, their happiness with the day unashamedly stitched into every movement. Given who they are, Wanda is glad they are alive now and not during a time of greater hatred. Which brings her mind back to the woman who made the tripa success. “Vizh?”

“Hmm?”

“When do you think we should let them meet Agatha?”

They stop, Vision sometimes unable to think and walk at the same time, and the toil in his mind is palpable even without her powers. “I believe,” he too takes in their sons, a fluttering smile on his lips the longer he stares, “it might be best she remains a story for a little bit longer.”

#vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet vision #wandavision #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #the maximoffs #ask anon #replies #mine

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secretsniper2 · 3 years

Text

Part 7: High Tech Tortures

I wake on my side, sore and extreme horny, desperate to cum as the 7 eggs in my pussy continue to hum without end, juice flowing out of my pussy freely, passing around the shield blocking the eggs from getting out, kept maddeningly on the very edge of orgasm with no way down. How much I wish these eggs would let me back down from the edge or stop completely, but with my urethra plug holding the shield there's no way to remove it and my hands are useless and I only serve to push the shield further on my skin and coating my latex paws in layers of precum. Moaning and a hum coming from the bed my sister slave is clearly under similar circumstances, though she can cum unlike me. Laying next to my Master she is likely bound till shes let out, hearing movement my Master gets out of bed nude, his cock swinging unrestrained and unrestricted as he walks to the bathroom to go through his morning routine I can only watch from my small cage at the foot of his bed.

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I wake in the familiar darkness and smell of my latex hood, my mouth plugged tight with my legs spread to the corners of the bed, my clit is humming softly, Im on the edge of a powerful orgasm needing only a touch to tip me into that pool as I feel my Master return to his bed and I receive my orgasm as he slips his cock inside my soaking pussy, orgasming instantly I try and say “Sorry Master” but can only manage a pathetic mewl as my body shakes as my Master fucks me with his morning wood, my own comfort of no concern to him he thrusts away inside and dumps his morning load inside my waiting pussy. Feeling it stirring around inside me as he continues my pounding till a second load enters me, withdrawing and sealing my pussy closed he moves off and gets dressed. Feeling my leash reattach to my collar Im unbound from the bed and moved out the room and back downstairs, led around in the dark till my mouth finds a dildo and my tongue seizes it and I begin pumping and sucking away, receiving my morning meal from the giving cock as another cock pushes in my ass as my master uses me as he sees fit, thrusting me into the dildo with every push till I feel a pump push my masters tasty cum up my ass, flowing deep inside me. Having had my fill I remove the dildo from my mouth and take a step back, “Im done Master” my leash is pulled as I teeter on my toes locked in my ballet heels.

Pulled to the ground my collar is locked to a chain on the floor holding my neck a mere foot off the ground, my arms still bound behind my back Im forced to lay flat on my bountiful latex coated breasts, my covered nipples feel the cold against the latex I shiver at the sudden hardening of my nipples as my Master replaces my gag and turns, I hear footsteps walking away, leaving my bare ass and pussy on full view as my legs open slowly, feeling my Masters cum start to run out my ass and pussy, a few drops landing on the floor as I imagine my Master pumping more hot cum inside me, my imagination distracting me from the slow stepping behind me, its when I notice the muffled buzzing that my imagination comes back to reality and I wave my hips teasingly, trying to get my intention across as I feel a welcome hand on my back. “Eat” I hear as a tongue pushes into my tight ass and probes around, sucking on my petite hole I feel the cum flowing past my sister slaves prying tongue and into the mouth beyond, feeling another orgasm cresting the cliff I moan out in ecstasy as my pussy pulses “Dont cum” I hear, my Masters words ring and echo through my mind as my brain focuses on holding back the release instantly though with difficulty as the mouth continues to empty my ass.

Collecting the cum from my ass the tongue moves lower and I moan again as she enters my drooling pussy “Ahhh fuck!” I moan, hearing a laugh from my Master who seems to know my orgasm will come, whether I resist or not. Probing deeper and deeper inside me while the mouth sucks my clit and slurps the cum out, my mouth is too busy voicing my difficulty “Ohh fuck no! No no nonono! It-its too muhhhhHHHH” My voice breaking at the end as my pussy cums harder than I wanted as my cum sprays into the waiting mouth as the tongue redoubles and speeds up its thrusting, intent on making me disobey again I do my best to hold back but having my willpower shattered too hard from that last orgasm, I can only manage “AHHHH OHGODNOO-ooooohh my gooOOODNOOO PLEASE!!” I scream, my arms jerking in my armbinder as I shift on my breasts, no way to stop the orgasms I have no permission to have! “That's 2 orgasms, did you get permission to have those Slave?” My Master asks, “Im so sorry sir, I couldn't help it” I gasp out while the mouth sucks the remaining cum from my pussy and releases my still pulsing lips, “Thank you Master” I hear as the woman is led away and the sound of sucking fills the room.

Unlocking my chain from the floor Im put back on my toes and led to a chair where my master sits and bends me forward at the hips, Masters cock waits and I comply and thrust my head down and take him deep in my mouth, receiving my bonus meal Im stood up straight, “You wait here and keep sucking-” clearly talking to my sister slave, “I'll get this greedy slut ready for her punishment.” Making me shudder knowing Im getting punished for something I couldn't stop in my wildest dreams, Im led forward and taken to the dungeon in the basement, my legs forced open as I beg pathetically “She made me cum Master” being my favourite line to use. Special toys are inserted into my pussy and ass, 1 placed against my clit as a chastity belt lined with thick padded latex to seal completely, no way to get anything under my belt, not a finger or a feather, only my juices are able to slowly squeeze out from the shield. “These are very expensive, very special toys inside you now, dont want the deniers falling out and breaking now do we?” my Master asks with a laugh. What did my Master mean by “Deniers”? Im about to find out as he switches them all on, my head jerks as my lower body violently shakes as my ass and pussy quake with sensations and my poor clit becoming best friends with its stimulator. “If you manage to cum from those then its deserved, but good luck with that, Slut! Your punishment is keeping those in you for the day!” My Master says as I reach the edge of a massive orgasm and just as I crest the edge they all slow down, denying me the orgasm and holding me on the edge “Oh god im going to cum!” I moan as I try to cum, as the toys stop then start over again my orgasm rolls away then they vibrate continuously till Im once again on the edge, only to cut in and out in a painful denial. “It detects your heartbeat and stops just as your about to cum. Enjoy” My Master says as I scream aloud!

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Still sucking, not sure when Master will return I dont want to be caught with the dildo out of my mouth, a light tug on my leash informs me to release the toy as I look up to my Master, I barely heard a scream earlier and my sister slave is still in the dungeon. My Master leads me slowly down to the dungeon, the second the door opens I hear loud buzzing and gasping and moans from the tormented slave, my eyes widen as I see her, still with arms sealed behind her, eyeless latex hood over her face with a tight corset and ballet boots locked to her body, but its what was new that caught my eyes, a shiny chastity belt that sits very tightly against her sex. Another tug on the leash I follow my Master to a chair and as he sits he reveals his hard cock, and I hop up to take it in my mouth as clearly commanded, my eyes look over to my sister slave as she cries and screams while I suck on my Masters hard cock till a hand meets the back of my head and holds my head low. Swallowing his cum I continue to suck away at the cock in my mouth. Moans and screams fill my ears as Masters cock pushes in and your of my mouth while my eyes look to a thrashing woman, “Shes enjoying a new toy i acquired this morning in the mail, designed to deny its user every orgasm, it wont stop vibrating till i turn it off.” Master explains while holding a remote in his other hand and placing it on a nearby shelf, far out of my paws reach.

Pushing me back off his hard cock Im told to sit, and I watch the display in front of me, “She will get to cum again, unlike you though” my Master says as he looks down on my bitchsuit covered body as my eyes start to tear up as my pussy continues to hum pathetically, having been turned down to emit a arousing presence. Seemingly knowing my arousal could use a pick-me-up my own inserts max out as I jump up and I spin to look at my Master, my sex dripping with need concealed by the latex suit while my sister slave is experiencing, however limited, a taste of my desires, Im told to sit once again and I shakily drop onto my covered pussy and ass as my own fluids flow onto the floor with a rekindled heat behind it as I look to the woman thrashing in her bonds knowing her hell is a temporary one while my hell will continue long after today.

My eyes look to the clock on the wall and time seems to take its course, an hour passes and the moaning has been nonstop from both of us as the pool between the womans bound wide legs growing steadily, with my own small puddle beneath my own thighs, my Master saying “You must be thirsty by now Slave, go have a drink” pointing to the pool of juices before me, I slowly walk over and drop my head in the fluid and drink deep, my red hair falling into the pool I slurp up more and more of my sister slaves pussy juices, thinking it would be more tasty coming from its source directly. Having my fill I back up to my Master and once again take his cock in my mouth and begin sucking away, the nearby drain collecting what pussy juices I didnt slurp up, my face covered with her own fluids as the cock pushes in my mouth as another 2 hours pass. Standing up my Master walks to the tormented woman as she moans and begs for forgiveness incoherently as my Master reaches above her and grabs a dildo on a tube and puts it to her mouth, pushing it past her lips and teeth he locks straps around her head and pushes a button, the transparent tube fills with a white liquid and the slaves head shakes from side to side till her breasts are slapped hard “Drink up Slave!” My Master barks out loud. Complying instantly the slave gulps down many mouthfuls till shes clearly full and the button is pressed and the fluids flow stops, drinking up the rest the dildo is removes from her mouth and she spurts out some white fluid which lands on her large latex covered breasts.

Bringing the dildo over to me Im forced to suck on the thick toy as its locked on my face, pressing the button Im helpless to avoid the fluid as I watch as it rushes down the tube and bursts into my mouth, its horrible! Tastes worse than the cum flavoured fluid from upstairs Im forced to swallow multiple loads worth and the button is pressed and I finish up and the toy is unlocked and removed. Placing back up near the roof it drips more white liquid onto the floor in slow drips, I watch on as my pussy burns with more need and I gasp out as the vibrators stimulation seem to double as I was obviously drugged with something, still unable to cum I grind my metal plate on the ground in a useless bid to achieve what I know I cant have. Moaning as I push down my motions matching the woman bound before me as we both hump forward, both pussies locked behind metal plates as the wearers thrust and grind best they can.

Watching this, my Master laughs and takes me back upstairs, leaving my sister slave bound and struggling desperately as Im led away, entering the loungeroom I sit on a latex cushion placed in front of a metal device, locking my collar to the floor Im forced on my back, presenting my horny plate covered pussy for inspection, the device it placed over my head, covering my entire head and a dildo pushing into my mouth which is locked in place, the device now secure to my head my darkness is lit up with a screen everywhere I look. Im going to watch whatever my master wants me to watch, my eyes are illuminated with scenes of women in restrictive bondage and cumming constantly, cutting from scene to scene. My ears flood with the sounds of orgasms, cocks and sex. Unable to look away or block it out, even closing my eyes does nothing as I can see almost clear images on my eyelids as the dildo pulses in my mouth and my tongue coddles it lovingly as I feel my urethral tube deflate as my master takes care of my bodies needs, and I feel my eggs removed from my shuddering pussy, as its replaced with a throbbing hard cock as hands grab my breasts as my Master thrusts inside me, dumping 2 loads inside me, clearly going to require my sister to fish the cum out as I did for her this morning, at least I cant cum like she could. My Master leaves me to my porn to tend to the cum hungry slave below.

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I cant cum, the toys wont let me! My hips thrusting against the belt with no release in sight I scream and moan between my blind begging to anyone there who could hear me! My breast being seized by a strong hand I cry out with desperation as I beg once again “Please make it stop Master!” being answered with a hand slapping my face “How would this be a punishment if you get out when you want out?” My Master says calmly as he unlocks my legs as I stand up straight as Im led back out of the dungeon, my pussy, ass and clit still alight with the vibrators. Led blindly through the house I hear moans over the humming between my thighs as Im forced to my knees and my face pushed into a pussy, its hers! Sucking deeply as my tongue shoots inside I taste cum packed deep and I begin fishing it out, it doesn't take long for me to get it all out and Im pulled off my dinner as Im taken over and pushed onto a seat, blind and unaware my Master decides to watch a normal movie while Im forced to sit, on the edge of a intense orgasm that I wont have till later hopefully as my tongue slips out of my open mouth while my mind goes numb with pure need.

Finishing his movie my Master jerks my mind back to reality with a cock slipping into my open mouth, the movie must be over, how long has it been? for me its been dark for 2 days straight so my grasp on the passage of time is completely useless, knowing when its night only when Im put to bed, I receive a delicious load in my mouth from my Master, which I swallow instantly and are brought to my feet and led around the house aimlessly, turning around sharply multiple times threatening to topple my delicate balance as I teeter on my sore toes trapped in my ballet boots. I begin walking in a long straight line, puzzled I realize Im on a treadmill once again, as I writhe in my denial haze Im forced to walk endlessly as my Master clearly leaves me to my torment, my legs burn for relief that Im not going to get. My moans begin anew with that realization.

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My mind is flooding with porn, the images of orgasms making my denial that much harder to deal with. The screen turns black and the dildo my tongue was coddling is removed, my eyes see light and my Masters face as the helmet is taken away, my needy pussy right beneath him and the sounds of moaning and denial coming from around the corner, I know the treadmill is in that room and whats happening to her, Im pulled to my “feet” as my leash leads me to the treadmill room and I see her, bound tight in a inescapable walk of arousal and shame, “This because you made her cum twice, are you happy?” My Master says with a chuckle. Drinking in her bondage I accept that this is all on me, I could have eased up and denied her rather than taste her sweet cum… on my.. tongue. I know I did this, and I know that given the opportunity, I would do it again, her juices taste too great. If I cant cum then why should she? I decide that each time I clean her out I'll make her orgasm and sentence her to another day of denial hell. I smile at that decision and my Master laughs at my expression, “You enjoy her torture, dont you.”, I nod at his question “Yes Master, very much so..”

Leading me back up to the bedroom my cage is opened and I crawl inside and lay on my latex pillow and relax as best I can as my cage is locked shut and my Master leaves, likely to get my sister slave. Returning a few minutes later I yawn as he enters, Im exhausted, watching the blind slave led to the bed I hear flesh on latex and she falls back on the bed. Hearing a moan and a groan and a sudden cry I hear gagging as I learn my Master is taking her mouth tonight, she will remain denied tonight and I couldn't be happier. The lights turn off and I hear my Master call “Good night my Denial Whores!”

#Stories #Custom

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jamie-leah · 4 years

Text

War of Wolves (9)

Season 1

Episode 9 - Practice Makes Perfect

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2491

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT, Violence, Death, Swearing

A/N: Another part lovelies. There is still so much to come, I hope you’re all enjoying and still sticking with it. Tags are still OPEN. I have had a few life changes recently so I am a little slow but the parts are coming :) Enjoy Lovelies!

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

War of Wolves Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

The next day Bucky had taken off because of the party. You had enjoyed a lazy morning together, but it was soon abandoned as Bucky had asked you a favour.

This favour is what led you to be standing in the gym with Bucky right now. You were putting your hair up already in gym clothes when you ask, “tell me why you want me to do this again?”.

You hand Bucky a hair tie as well and he answers while he puts his hair up, “because it’ll give me peace of mind to some extent that you can look after yourself until I get there at least. I hope you never have to use this stuff, but its important”.

You nod as you both walk over to the mat. You face each other as Bucky says, “I’ll show you a few basic moves and techniques and we’ll practice them”. Bucky starts straightaway, showing you the right techniques to punch and kick and where.

You practice a couple of moves until Bucky is satisfied with your progress. You feel a little flush and sweaty but notice that Bucky looks normal. Once you’ve finished that, Bucky hands you a bottle of water.

After the break he shows you how to use a handgun. He makes you go through cleaning and loading and aiming until you can do it quick enough for his liking.

He ends the training session on the treadmill. As he walks over to them you cross your arms, “you want me to do more?”.

He gives you a half smile, “I just want to see how well and far you can run”.

You roll your eyes and drag your feet as you make your way over to the treadmill next to him. He notices your reluctance with a smirk, “do this one last thing for me and then we can go take a shower”.

You look up at him with a small smile and a raised eyebrow, “James Buchanan Barnes, you sure know how to motivate a girl”.

He openly laughs as the sound echoes around the room, making you smile. Bucky starts the treadmills up and sets the pace. Running was one of the things you were good at, a skill set you had acquired on the streets.

Even though your breathing was heavier than Bucky’s you managed to keep up with him and the pace he set. Once he said you were done for the day you praised the lord. You drank some water and got your breath back.

Just as Bucky was putting his water down, you jump on his back. His arms automatically grab your thighs as they sit around his waist. Your arms come around his neck and you whisper, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, ��I think someone promised me a shower”.

You feel his hands tighten around your thighs at the thought, but he decides to tease you instead, “I don’t remember promising a shower…”

You leave small kisses behind his ear and along his neck, “are you sure?”.

You think you hear him make a small groan, but he keeps up the teasing, “I’m pretty sure, yeah”.

You slide from his back and move away from him, walking backwards so you can still face him, “okay, well I’ll go take one by myself then”. You proceed to take your top off, leaving you in shorts and a training bra.

You watch his eyes darken as he comes a bit closer. He chuckles, “I was only messing around, let’s go take a shower”.

You continue to move backwards out of his reach, “no. You said you didn’t want to. You can’t go back now”. You can’t completely hide the smile playing on your lips.

He nods looking defeated, but then he moves as quick as lightning. You yell not expecting it but just enough out of reach to avoid his grasp. You turn and go to run, but Bucky had closed the gap too much and his flesh arm catches you around the waist.

He lifts you up and brings you to his chest as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You’re laughing uncontrollably as he starts carrying you to the door, “you can’t run from me Doll. I’ll always catch you”.

You hear the smile in his voice as you try and get your laughing under control. Bucky makes it to the stairs still holding you up by your waist when you hear Sam call, “Buck! You’ve got a call, you need to take this”.

Bucky sets you down and turns you around. Before you can say anything, his lips are on yours. Your mouth opens willingly, eager for his tongue to mix with yours. When he pulls back he whispers against your lips, “how about you go run a bath instead? I’ll join you as soon as I can”.

You start walking up the stairs, calling behind you, “don’t keep me waiting, James”.

The use of his real name causes a groan to escape his lips. You hear him walking towards Sam’s voice, “let’s make this quick Sam. It was meant to be my day off”.

You make your way into Bucky’s room and into the bathroom. You go over to the huge bathtub and start to run the bath. You sit on the edge checking the temperature every now and then. You grab the bubble bath liquid and pour it in, shaking your hand in the water to get the bubbles going.

Once the water is high enough, steam rising, you turn the water off. You leave the bathroom and go over to the side of the bed you’ve been sleeping on. You start to take your jewellery off and then your clothes.

That’s when Bucky enters the room. He takes one look at you stripping and does the same. Once you’re both naked he takes your hand and leads you into the bathroom. He gets into the bath first. Once standing in the tub, he helps you in.

He sinks down first and brings you down on top of him. Your legs are either side of his in the hot water as you face him. He looks up at you in an expression that can only be described as adoration, “you’re so beautiful. I’ll never know what I did to deserve you”.

You give him a soft smile as you bring your lips down gently on his. His lips ask for more as his hands travel from your waist and up your back, bring you closer to his body.

As the kiss deepens you feel him harden underneath you. His lips start to wander from yours down your neck and chest, until they find your breast. His tongue circles your nipple before his lips enclose around it. He sucks softly drawing a moan from your lips.

As he continues to suck your nipples you reach a hand into the water between you and wrap your fingers around his cock. You jerk it up and down slowly and you feel him groan against your nipple.

You don’t wait long before lining him up and sinking down on his cock. He lets go of your nipple to gasp. You place your hands on his shoulders as you ride him slowly. He watches you riding him for a while, soft moans falling from both of your lips mixing with the steam in the air.

He pulls you closer to his body as you continue the slow roll of your hips. He brings your lips to his again in a lazy kiss. During the kiss you feel his metal hand find your clit. You gasp into his mouth as he plays with it, causing your orgasm to build faster.

You pick the pace up slightly, but Bucky carries on playing with your clit. It doesn’t take much longer for your walls to clench around his cock. As you spasm around him you feel his cum coat the inside of your pussy.

Once you both come down, Bucky picks you up gently and twists you. He places you between his legs as you lean your back against his chest. Your head rests just under his chin and he kisses the top of your head as his arms come around you.

You stay quiet for a while as you both soak in the warm water. You eventually speak softly in the steamy room, “who called you?”.

Bucky murmurs, “a new buyer. We’re having our first deal tomorrow night. Because its our first deal, I’d like you to come and let me know if something’s wrong. If anyone is lying”.

You nod gently against him, “of course”. He kisses the side of your head again and you stay like that until the water runs cold.

The next night everyone was a little tense. It was a first-time sale, and anything could happen. You were in the car sitting at the back with Steve. Sam was driving while Bucky was in the passenger seat going over the plan again, “okay, hopefully this will go without a hitch, but in case it doesn’t, Steve you cover Y/N and me and Sam will cover each other”.

Everyone nods as he carries on, “Y/N, remember to cough if you hear a lie and stay close to Steve”. You nod as you feel the car slowing down. Its so dark outside, but you make out that you’re pulling into a park.

Its half open fields and half forests. With the headlights on you can see picnic tables and a few cars already waiting for you next to them. Sam parks facing them but a little bit away. The cars behind us following suit.

You watch Bucky, Steve and Sam share a look and you seem to miss the meaning, “what’s wrong?”.

Steve looks at you, “there’s more men here than we were anticipating”.

You all start getting out of the car, a sick feeling beginning to brew in your stomach. You stay close to Steve’s side as Bucky and Sam walk first, then you behind, Bucky’s other men bringing up the rear.

Both parties meet in the middle of the vehicle’s headlights. Bucky and the new buyer converse for a few minutes and you listen closely for any lies but detect none.

You then watch as Bucky motions two of his men forward. They bring two duffle bags to the new buyer and open them up to reveal blocks of white powder. You see the smile spread across the buyers face as he motions his own men to take the bags from them to put in their car.

He then motions a different man forward that brings a large bag forward. He hands it to the buyer who then smiles at Bucky and hands him the bag. As Bucky opens it up to reveal cash, the buyer says, “it’s all there”.

The lie is hard to miss as you cough lightly. You watch Bucky closely and see his posture go rigid as Steve gives you a side look. Bucky’s movements remain casual though as he asks two men forward to count the money into their own bag.

As the counting continues you watch the buyer become more and more restless. As it comes to the end of the money, the buyer draws a gun. Bucky holds his hand up to stop everyone from drawing their own guns.

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as you see the gun pointed at Bucky. Steve subtly steps in front of you, blocking you from being hit by anything. Bucky starts to talk to the buyer, but halfway through he strikes like a snake. The gun falls to the floor as Bucky punches the guy.

Then all hell breaks loose. Bucky’s men start fighting the others, but there’s an imbalance. Bucky and Sam are doing fine, but the other men aren’t as skilled, and they need Steve to fight as well. Steve turns to you, “go take cover by one of our cars”.

You nod as you turn and dart to the cars. You skip the first one and go to the second car and try to open it, but it’s locked. You go to the third and find that its open. You open the back door to get in but feel someone grab your upper arms hard to pull you out.

You let him pull you out and then twist with your fist raised like Bucky taught you yesterday and you catch him in the face. He swears, and you realise that it’s the buyer that managed to slip away in the chaos.

You go to run the other way, but he grabs you by your hair causing you to cry out in pain. He brings you back into him by your hair as he brings his arm up to your neck, cool metal pressed to your throat.

That’s when you look up to realise the fight had already been won by Bucky. The buyer was the last one standing. Bucky and Steve point a gun at the buyer and that’s when you realise he’s using you as a human shield.

You lock eyes with Bucky and the murderous rage you see in them sends shivers down your spine. Bucky’s voice shouts across the park, threatening undertones evident, “I’ll give you one chance to let her go”.

You feel the guy shake his head behind you, “I’ll let her go a few miles from here. Once I’m away from you”. You hear the lie in his voice but can’t cough in fear of the steel pressed at your throat.

You knew they wouldn’t get a shot if you somehow didn’t get out of the way. You go through the pressure and attack points that Bucky was teaching you yesterday and then decide to just go for it.

The guy starts to talk to Bucky again, about the price being too high for the coke, but you don’t listen. You wait until you think he’s distracted enough and then you bring your boot down onto his foot.

His grip loosens enough for you to dart to the side, a split second later a single shot goes off, followed by a thud. You turn in the direction of Bucky and see him taking huge strides towards you. You feel the adrenaline start to leave you and your legs feel too shaky to move.

Bucky makes it to you in a few seconds, both hands covering both cheeks as his eyes search yours. You murmur to him, “I’m okay, I’m okay”. Once he’s convinced he brings you into his chest for a tight hug, his hand covers the back of your head.

When he pulls back, he has a small smile, “you were listening to me yesterday then”.

You laugh despite what just went down and he pulls you in for another hug before steering you towards the car.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @k-n-e @ranting-introvert @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld

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theprinceandagcd · 4 years

Text

I gave so many signs

Summary: “Something flashes in his expression, only a moment and then gone, but it renews a hope in her. Her Bellamy is still in there. He has to be.”

or some tapping into Clarke’s memory speculation.

I’m not actually sure how good this is, but I spent a day or so on it and also wanted it to be posted before the episode soooo.... here ya go :)

also on ao3

I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending you’re not my homeland anymore so what am I defending now?

------

The lights are too bright, and the memories come in flashes, each one moving so quickly that Clarke can barely keep up. The ache in her head pulses with each rapid beat in her heart. She cries out each time the machine whirs, the pain almost unbearable.

She only knows she has to protect Madi—the disciples, Bellamy, can’t know that she holds the flame’s memories. Regardless of where Bellamy may stand, he hasn’t yet given up that secret, and so it’s one that she pushes back with everything she has.

So, everything else flows freely. She can’t stop it.

She sees drawings from the Ark, Wells, Finn, Lexa, the hundred—they all flood past like a damn breaking. The noise that yanks itself from her throat sounds inhuman, and the hurt in her head leaks into her heart as she relives some of her worst memories.

Her father being taken away.

Her mother—or her face, at least—being sucked out into space.

“Together.” A hand over hers—she can almost feel his fingers covering her own.

“We need more information about the flame.” She isn’t sure who it is that speaks. “What do you remember from when it was in your head?”

The memories slow, and she’s back on the top level of Polis, opening her mouth to take the City of Light chip. Even though her Bellamy is not the one that stands off to her left, she remembers clearly the feeling of his hand in hers and it allows her to take a breath, to refocus.

But then she’s thinking of her Bellamy, of his hand on hers at Mount Weather, his arms around her on a dark beach as his tears drip into her hair, his hand brushing across her forehead in a laboratory. A sob escapes her, and she can feel the tears that drifts past her ears.

“Bellamy,” his name slips from her lips, almost a prayer. She stretches her neck, trying to meet his eyes.

Something flashes in his expression, only a moment and then gone, but it renews a hope in her.

Her Bellamy is still in there. He has to be.

She does her best to focus on how much she loves him, and the memories surface. She remembers the kiss she pressed to his cheek when she left after Mount Weather, how much it ripped her chest apart to leave him there. She thinks about his eyes, his smile, the way he’d looked at her when she had begged him to use his head to survive.

The sadness she felt seeing them take off in the rocket, but then the overwhelming happiness that they would be okay. The jealousy that she felt the first time he hugged Echo. Careful, she remembers how heartbroken she had been when he had betrayed her trust, but she leaves Madi out of it. The push that his voice had given her as she’d stared at Josephine, dying, in the mindspace.

The relief she had felt when she opened her eyes and saw him.

“She must be pretty important to you.”

“She is.”

His eyes don’t change much. They mostly seem sad, just around the edges. She can’t just show him, she knows.

She has to tell him.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, she closes her eyes and focuses everything she has on a very specific set of memories.

“Hey Bellamy, it’s been 357 days since Praimfaya. Hopefully you guys are all doing okay up there. I… I miss you. I miss everyone, but I never realized how much I would miss you. I don’t even know if you can hear these, but if this is all I get, it’ll have to be enough. I’m trying to stay positive, but not seeing you is tough. I wish I knew… I wish I knew that you were okay.”

“Hey, Bellamy. It’s been 962 days since Praimfaya, and… I started telling Madi our stories. She loves them, of course. She already loves you. Her favorite story so far is learning about you and Octavia, and how you two survived on the Ark. Her other favorite is… She loves hearing about those first days. I’m sure you remember, when all we did was fight? Sometimes I wonder, if I had known how much I would come to care about you, if I would have still fought you so hard. I think maybe I would have, because I’m pretty stubborn, and you are, too. Anyway, I hope you’re okay. I miss you, every day. Obviously.”

Clarke strains, trying to meet Bellamy’s eyes as her voice continues to fill the room. His gaze meets hers, his face carefully stoic. Her tears are pooling on the headrest beneath her, soaking her hair.

“Hey, Bellamy. 1,548 days have passed now. It’s getting closer to when it’ll be safe for you guys to all come back. Today, Madi said something interesting. She was… she was looking at a picture that I drew of you, and she stared at it for a really long time and then she asked ‘Did you ever tell Bellamy you loved him?’ I didn’t really know what she meant, I mean, I’m sure you know how important you are to me. But she… she insisted, saying that she thinks I love you… more than I’ve admitted to her. She’s so smart, honestly. Because I do, of course. And I had to tell her that I never did admit how much I love you to your face. And God, Bellamy, I really hope you’re alive. Because one day, I would love the chance to tell you. But just in case, I’m telling you now… I love you, Bellamy. I love you.”

“We’re getting nowhere.”

Bellamy’s voice is rough, cutting through the end of the sentences as they fade.

Bill speaks then. “I think I may have underestimated how much you mean to Clarke, Bellamy. Did you know she was in love with you?”

The silence is brief, but heavy. “No.”

“Bellamy, please.” Her voice is quiet, but she knows he hears her.

“We aren’t making progress, my Shephard.”

“On the contrary, I think we have certainly acquired some valuable information today.”

Clarke feels sick as she realizes that in trying to protect Madi, she has given them all her other weakness.

Bellamy.

“Perhaps we should give her a break, once again remind her how all of her friends are alive, despite one of them killing a disciple.” Bellamy’s voice is dark, and Clarke closes her eyes.

Yet, the hand that wraps around her arm to help her up is gentle, and when she glances into Bellamy’s eyes, they’re troubled. “Come on.”

He leads her back to the room, alone, and she feels her feet tripping over themselves in sudden exhaustion. Bellamy seems harder now, out away from the confines of her memories of him. Her voice is echoing in her own head, faded.

“I didn’t know,” he says softly as they get to the door to her room. “How you felt.”

“I’m not sure how you didn’t.” She searches his eyes, imploring him to listen. “Bellamy, they’ll hurt you to get to me.”

“For all mankind, Clarke. You shouldn’t resist.”

She shakes her head, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “This isn’t you.”

“Maybe it is.”

“I know you. I love you.” The secret it out now—no point in hiding it. “This isn’t my Bellamy.”

His eyes flash again, but it’s gone quickly. “You should get inside. I’ll probably be sent to fetch you in a few hours.”

When he hits the button to open her door and she turns back to him, he reaches up, brushing away a tear still lingering on her cheek.

“Get some rest.”

And then he’s gone.

Clarke’s back hits the wall and she slides down, vaguely aware of Raven asking her something. She doesn’t really hear the words, but she holds the image of Bellamy’s softened eyes as he had helped her up.

“They know I love him. They’re going to hurt him to get to me.” She speaks slowly, a new determination sinking into her chest. “I have to save him. He’s still in there. I saw him… for just a second. I think I know how I can get to him.”

Raven’s hand is on her shoulder, and Clarke meets her eyes. Her friend nods. “So let’s do it. Let’s save him.”

Clarke nods, pushing down her exhaustion.

Bellamy comes first.

#bellarke #the 100 #bellarke ff #bellarke fanfiction #my writing #spec fic

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taisiakat · 3 years

Text

Tarot Reading for September 2021

INCLUDING WEEK OF 08-30 THRU 09-05-2021

Deck: Baroque Bohemian Cats of Prague By: Karen Mahony / Alex Ukolov Music to listen to with this reading: https://youtu.be/FF9mtpw365c

NOW IV The Emperor

This month it it time to take accounting as the Sovereign Ruler of your life. Start with taking accounting of all that you have accomplished this year, the last year, the last x number of years (you take your pick) But to go deep, bringing up the generous blessings that have been bestowed upon you, the wonderful experiences, joy, happiness, love, peace.

Then spend some time with what you are grateful, how you have been rewarded, what you have manifested, all the treasures that you have with you, around you and in you.

You are the Sovereign Ruler, Lord(ess) of your own domain. All that happens is at your blessing and command. If you think nothing is good - you will see only shadows and darkness.

INTENT Ace of Swords - King of Swords

The Divine walks with you, is with you, the strength, the sharpness of intelligence, wisdom and drive. You are presented with these tools to use at your disposal. Don't stand there gawking, take full control of the reigns and put to use the tools to seize the new opportunities of September, and the rest of the year. Exert the force of you mind to triumph and manifest the power of who you are. You will find a deep pool of intense energy, dive deep into it, soaking in it, absorbing it to restore your batteries which have been so depleted by this last 6+ months.

Cut the strings that connect you to the standard approach to opportunities and solving/resolving problems. Be creative in how you think. You are no longer a puppet of your past, nor a puppet of your programming. You have learned how to break free of those strings, and now it's time to put that to practice and see new ways to approach these upcoming opportunities so you flourish and expand your life-manifesting greater blessings and rewards.

You may not realize it now, but when you look back at this time next year you will see how each puppet string you break free of, how it freed you to do things so differently and without fear.

Intent now is to MOVE in new directions and new way of thinking.

OPPORTUNITY Knight of Pentacles

The accounting you did in the beginning, take it one step further, by identifying rigid routines, rituals, routines that keep you and let them go or at least lessen them. In fact take an accounting of all your daily patterns, routines, rituals and repeating actions, make sure you know why you are doing them. Do they support the life you are seeking now, or did they stop supporting you because they are old, out of date and in the past of what you are trying to accomplish and why? Patterns, Rituals, Routines are important as they can help focus your day-to-day life, but when you forget the purpose of why you have them in the first place - they become energy that may be being wasted.

It is time to also introduce some variety, spice it up. It's good to have order, structure, but when structure starts to create more anxiety trying to follow - it becomes a trauma.

REWARD 9 of Wands

Time to relax - disregard the stupid drama that is unfolding out of your reach and control. Turn your head away and just find something to give your attention that is more your fancy and flavor. It is hard to not get sucked into the drama, but if you keep your focus away from it you will find that it's much easier to relax and replenish your energies while still keeping vigilant of potential uprisings that do need your attention. The wall you have built will serve you well but not block your vision for other things do need your attention and focus.

GUIDES Page of Pentacles

Books, Resources, Journals, Studying and diving deep into specific skills that will help you uplevel your own spiritual practices. Read a new book on the subject of Manifestation, flow, freedom of a path, whatever you feel is the most valuable space for you to invest in some knowledge to help you grow and gain new insight and knowledge

There may be plenty of signs, teachers, nuggets for you to just pick up and examine to gain more understanding with.

Free form journal work, open ended writing to your goddess(god) could prove very insightful for new ideas and new skills to acquire. Whatever the material is - it will be found by reading.

@}}>`~~~~~~~~~~~

Please feel free to ask any questions about the above, share your thoughts, let me know how I can assist you. I have a few slots this month for Foundation readings. Please PM me for more information.

@}}>`~~~~~~~~~~~

Experience, observe, be curious and enjoy! The Last Chance Crone - helping you with your shit when other methods fail

#tarot readings #September reading #Baroque Bohemian Cats #sept 2021 #monthly readings

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arsnovacadenza · 4 years

Text

jean d’arc route summary and translation chp.5

Disclaimer: This is an unofficial translation based on my somewhat serviceable Japanese skills with the aid of various kanji dictionaries (and some Google Translate). Now updating on weekends.

The italicized words in brackets are the comments I made throughout my playthrough. Of course, there will be spoilers.

(In this chapter, there’s Jean being cute and infuriating at the same time! Also, all hail our resident Emperor of Support Systems)

MC wakes up in Jean’s room, with his jacket over her body. As she folds the garment and sets it down, she notices a bottle of Blanc lying around. Picking it up, she wonders if Jean has been doing all of this out of gentleness despite his frigid exterior and snide remarks.

As expected, Jean didn't bite me without a meaning, MC muses. And since Jean would never give her any straight answer, she decides to believe in her conviction.

She reminds herself that she'll be going back to her original era once all the sand in the hourglass falls. Therefore, she's determined to make wonderful memories out of her meeting with Jean that shouldn't have been.

And so begins MC's days of babysitting taking care of Jean while working in the mansion. In the meantime, she also plans to spare some time to talk to Jean whenever possible, calling it "Campaign to Get Friendly with Monsieur Jean."

Today, she invites Jean to go out and buy food with her since no one's around to come with her. Stubborn to the end, Jean tells her to go and find Sebas instead.

Next time, MC shows Jean some dried sheets and tells him that they smell like the sun. They're all fluffy and will provide him with warmth when he falls asleep tonight*.

"It will be the same anyway if you fall asleep."

At night, "Monsieur Jean, today's dinner is salmon meuniere and sauteed spinach, and there's even dessert!"

"....Food is an indulgence for vampires," Jean answers. "I'm already satisfied with a little Blanc."

When they meet in the halls, MC tells Jean that they're holding a board game in the lounge where there will be Arthur and Theo, however...

"Woman," Jean calls in his deep voice, and MC raises her face to meet his. His eyes reflect resignation. "I was the one who allowed a caretaker. Because I lost the match."

"However, don't do things that aren't particularly important."

At that, MC's face becomes troubled while Jean disappears.

And then, a wild emperor appeared!

"What's up with that face looking like a child soaked in the rain?"

"Didn't you become Jean's attendant?... And were you treated coldly?" MC is surprised he found out. Napoleon says that while the residents don't like rumors, they can't avoid getting some information.

MC tells him that she was the one who caused the cold treatment in the first place. Although she does feel a little unpleasant despite wanting to befriend him. The feeling, however, stems from her not knowing what to do about the situation.

"I'll be worried if you have a disheartened look forever. So I'll tell you a good thing."

While everyone is asleep, MC walks the corridor while mulling over the good stuff Napoleon told her. He had suggested that she go to the library at night and that if she wants to get along with someone, she should understand what they need*.

"..if it's you, you can do it." He encouraged her.

And so, she enters the library, where she finds Jean desperately trying to read a book.

She greets him, and Jean demands to know why she's here. She tells him he's here under Napoleon's direction, to which he responds. "As usual, he's either good at taking care of people, or he's being meddlesome."

(Hear that? That's the sound of my Jeanpoleon-addicted heart breaking in the background.)

The book that Jean's holding contains large letters for small children to read. In it is a lonely gray duck standing apart from bright yellow ducks. It's the Ugly Duckling. MC asks him if he likes picture books.

"That's not it....this is the easiest one to understand." Jean answers.

"I was born in a farmhouse in eastern France. There was no importance in memorizing the alphabet."

He also adds that it was the middle of the war, so there was no need for education. Even if you were somehow able to read, writing too was useless.

MC asks him why he wanted to learn how to write. She tells him it will be useful if he wants to tell someone about something. For example, to say "I love you" to someone he has feelings for.

Jeanne says that he doesn’t plan on doing such a thing and that he just wants to learn out of necessity. He reveals that he's a weapons merchant in the city, and other than for supporting his job, he also finds it's inconvenient not to be able to write.

"If you want to laugh, go ahead"

But MC tells him she can't laugh at a person who's trying their best. Besides, learning something one doesn't understand is a good thing. Then, recalling Napoleon's words, MC offers to help him learn the alphabet.

Jean is hesitant at first, but he's only willing to do it at night. MC then promises to meet him in the library around the same time as today.

MC feels accomplished after finally finding the right opportunity to speak to Jean more. She bids her newly acquired student adieu, and he returns to his book.

*1 An image of Jean curling up in his bed smiling and relishing the warmth of his blanket popped up in my head.

*2 Everybody needs at least one Napoleon in their life, don’t you agree?

I feel incredibly sorry for MC throughout this chapter. I feel like apologizing to her on Jean's behalf.

Tagging @hokkaido-the-hellbeast and @ashavazesa for now. Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming summaries and Jean-related translations!

#ikemen vampire #ikevam jean d'arc #ikevam jeanne d'arc #ikevam jean #jean's route #riri tries translating

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mitsuaziel · 4 years

Text

Solomon x GN! MC

Warning! Death, angst

*****

Solomon, a powerful wizard, is your lover. How you manage to acquire his love and attention is beyond everyone else and even you sometimes, but you're glad that you're his and he's yours. Unfortunately, your medical background doesn't paint a pretty picture for you.

It's been at least three months since you and Solomon has been together, madly in love. How you wish that you didn't have to break news to him but you must since he will find out sooner or later. You have informed the seven avatars and angels that your condition is deteriorating with Lord Diavolo and Barbatos already knowing beforehand. As much as you wanted to live, knowing what happened to their sister, Lilith, you didn't want to cause more harm than you've already done.

"Hey, MC." Mammon starts up a conversation while you're watching both him and Leviathan play a game.

You hum in response. With much hesitation, the greedy demon asks, "When are ya' going to tell him?"

Silence. Leviathan elbows Mammon in the guts as you thought of a response, finally answering his question with, "Tomorrow. It'll be cruel if I continue this charade with him."

A dry laugh emits from your starting to pale lips. "I'm so cruel to him, aren't I? He deserves someone better, not someone who's dying so easily from a disease."

The moment the words rolled off your tongue, Mammon and Leviathan abandon their game, not caring that their characters are getting killed on screen. The secondborn grabs your shoulders and gently shakes you, saying, "Are ya' crazy? It's us and him that don't deserve ya'!"

"For once, Mammon's right. Don't ever say that again, MC!" The envious demon said in turn.

But they only receive yet another short and dry laugh. "I only have one month left to live. No one can help me now nor will I ever live as long as Solomon hoped. I... I'm such a terrible partner and friend."

This time, it's the thirdborn who shakes you by the shoulders. "No, you're not! You're the one who managed to keep up together! Without you, who knows what would've happened to us! To Belphegor even!"

A sad, small smile manage to make its way to your lips. "I don't know what have I done to deserve you guys but I'm glad to have met you."

*****

The next day arrived quicker than you've had anticipated. Handkerchief in hand, you cover your mouth with the small cloth as you cough into it while mentally hoping that blood doesn’t stain your handkerchief. Lucifer and Satan, who are by your side, only looks at you with concerned looks, feeling useless and helpless since they can't do anything to help except be there for you.

"MC!" A familiar cheery voice is heard from behind. Oh, how have the Fates become to cruel.

You quickly hide the cloth in your pocket and turn to Solomon with the same lovely smile you always give him. "Yo', Solomon!"

Taking their cue to leave, Lucifer and Satan leaves you with your lover. Once you two stand face-to-face with each other, your lovely smile is slowly replaced with a sorrowful look on your face. The wizard quickly took note of this and questions about your sudden change in expression.

You tightly grab his hand as if your life depended on it, staring into his eyes. A barely audibly whisper 'follow me' left your lips as you drag him to somewhere private. After checking that nobody will eavesdrop on your conversation, you let our a sigh and your heartbeat begins to pick up its pace.

Your silence only makes Solomon worry more and a million negative thoughts occupy his mind. Do you want to break up with him? Did you not love him anymore? Did something bad happened? Unfortunately, what you said only made him stare at you with both shock and horror.

"Solomon, I have to tell you about my... My health. It's getting worse the last few months and both Lucifer and Lord Diavolo tried their best to find the best doctors from each realm to try and help me but... There's no cure. There's... Not much time left for me."

Solomon refuses to believe those words. He takes a step back and shakes his head. "Th-This is n-not funny, M-MC. P-Please t-tell me it's a joke."

But you shake your head. "I wish it was but it's not a joke. I'm dying, Solomon. I only have one month left to live."

"N-No. No, no, no. M-Maybe I can learn a-a healing spell o-or whip up a-"

You shut him up by grabbing his hands and placing your head against his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat. "Please, Solomon. If Lord Diavolo or Simeon can't do it, what can you do? We're only humans, Solomon. We're the weakest of the three realms. What makes you think you can find a spell, much less a cure for me? My time is almost up, Solomon. At least let me spend my last moments with the people I love."

Still, he refuses to believe you but... "Fine. Fine. I-I'll respect that."

You feel wet droplets soaking your scalp but you couldn't care less. The both of you stayed like that until the bell rung. Unfortunately, your classes with Solomon are very little and limited so when you exit the room, he hugs you tightly before sadly parting from you.

Ever since that day, Solomon tries to spend as much time with you and even sleeps with you with Lucifer's permission. When your condition worsened however, Lord Diavolo has declared that you no longer have to attend school and is issued to be moved to his castle so that Barbatos can take care of you.

The week of the retreat that is held at Lord Diavolo's castle has came around. How unfortunate can you be? It's also your last week here. Upon finally meeting you, Solomon is quick to engulf you in a tight, warm hug.

Your last week is spent with everyone you loved, like what you've requested to the wizard but time doesn't wait for no one. Your body is extremely weak to the point where you sometimes would fall and pass out. Your coughing fits have become a frequent and daily thing, much to everyone's dismay. Your energy is slow to replenish, your health deteriorating quickly, your face looks like you haven't slept in days and your life force quickly fading away.

Today is the last day of retreat and also your last day on Earth. You wish you hadn't been chosen for this exchange program as you knew that you've hurt everyone but at the same time, you're glad as well or else you would never meet such amazing people, especially Solomon.

In your temporary room, Asmodeus does your makeup to make you seem more lively than ever before for everyone. Your tired eyes only stare out of the window, the dark sky decorated by sprinkles of lights and a crescent moon. Breathing has also becoming an exercise for you, only receiving oxygen through your mouth. As Asmodeus works on your blush, you suddenly have a coughing fit.

The fourthborn quickly grabs your handkerchief and hands it to you to which you quickly snatch it from his hand and cover your mouth with. After a few moments, you wipe your mouth and look at the pool of scarlet that the cloth had manage to absorb. Asmodeus only sighs at the sight, quickly applying the blush for you before you could have another fit.

"There we go." He stands up and smiles at you as if you were a piece of priceless artwork. "You look stunning."

"Thanks, Asmo." You stand up and approach the mirror provided in the room. In the mirror, you do appear to have more life.

"Let's go." The demon opens the door for you and helps you walk towards the ballroom.

When you arrive to your desired area, the wizard is quick to greet you which prompts Asmodeus to leave the both of you. "You look amazing as always, MC. I wish the makeup is real..."

You only offer him a small smile, your croaky voice uttering out, "I'll be fine. Let's enjoy this final night."

Solomon's eyes are filled with sadness and despair but for you, he's willing to be happy for you. Music fills the room and your lover extends a hand for you to grab and you did. His other hand gently wraps around your torso as you hold onto his shoulder, the both of you start to dance despite your weak body but he did slow down his movements so that you could keep up with him. Unlike last time around, only the demons, angels and humans alike are present in the room, the other two species watching as the both of you sway with the melody. In that very moment, so many thoughts had pop up in his head.

How he wished that he was more powerful. How he wished that there was a cure for your illness. How he wished that Simeon had the power to help you. How he wished that you can remain in his arms forever. How he wished that this moment will last forever.

How he also wished that he had never met you.

Yet here he is, dancing with his partner, desperately trying not to tear up for their sake. When the music stopped and the way you fall into his arms, he knew that you only had moments left to live so he hugs you once again, placing his lips on your forehead. His soft lips linger on your skin for a few moments before looking at you. "What else do you want to do?"

"Play... Play something on- on the harp for me, S-Solomon." You requested, your exhausted eyes starting to droop.

He nods his head. "Whatever you want, my love."

The wizard slowly guides you towards the instruments provided in the room, taking a seat on the small bench with you sitting beside him. Everyone else only watches both of your movements, not making a ruckus like how they'd usually do.

"Solomon..." You breathe out, placing your head on his shoulder as you make yourself comfortable next to him. "Play... Play that song."

Your voice becomes quieter the more you speak. Solomon closes his eyes and takes a breather. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hug you, he wanted to see your face one last time before you permanently close your eyes but he holds himself back. His shaky hands make their way towards the strings and his fingers start plucking the strings, a beautiful melody you had always loved plays.

Though, not even a minute through, you started coughing which made your lover stop and check up on you. Luckily, it wasn’t as severe so you said, "Continue no matter what. I want to hear you play one last time."

His lips quiver but he fulfills your request nonetheless. His fingers never stop plucking the strings even if you had to cough. Midway through, you close your eyes, your breathing starting to become slower. Everyone else in the room senses that your life force is fading rather quickly but doesn't utter a word about it.

Solomon notices the sudden weight on his shoulder but doesn't stop. Though, this time, he doesn't deny his tears and lets them flow down his face. When he finally finishes playing your favourite melody, he immediately wraps his arms around your limp body. He places his head on your shoulder and his tears soak your clothes.

Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Luke are also crying, knowing that you're now gone. Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor and Simeon only watches from afar, everyone's hearts crushed when you're finally out from your misery but hurts further when they hear the loud, sad and ugly cries from Solomon as he grips onto your body tighter, desperately trying to get you to wake up when you won't.

-END-

I hope you enjoyed this small story. My favourite headcannon of Solomon is that he plays the harp and I had to include that here. Anyway, here’s the song he played.

youtube

#OBEY ME #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lord diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #luke obey me #x reader #angst #death

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lambourngb · 4 years

Note

For the first sentence meme - not sure what sort of mood you are in, writing-wise, so here are a couple ideas (no pressure to use any of these, of course)! - “Do you have any idea why I’ve done to try to forget about you?” - “You deserve a break.” - “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Hell or High Water (Is It Too Late)

----

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to try to forget about you?” Alex sang into the microphone, his hands still on the strings of the guitar. The swell of the song faded as his voice filled the Wild Pony and he smiled, looking past Forrest watching him with a glow of pride, to the shadowed figure with a black cowboy hat. “But I can’t, oh I can’t forget…”

He smiled for the audience, as they clapped and cheered. “Thank you. I wrote that song while I was serving overseas. Tonight's crowd is much better looking, much better smelling, and not as well armed as the last one that heard it.”

“Speak for yourself!” yelled someone from the back of the bar, sparking laughter around.

“Point taken,” Alex acknowledged, then brought his hand up to the fret of his guitar. “I have one more for you tonight, it’s something I wrote recently. It’s about being good, to yourself first. It’s called ‘Every Night Ends At the Drive In With You’.

Afterward, as he accepted the compliments from the crowd, he finally found his seat next to Michael at the bar. “You made it, I didn’t think you would.”

Michael placed his hat on the bar, ruffled but well conditioned curls spilled over one eye. “You promised me a free drink, how can a man turn that down?”

Feeling brave and still high off the energy of the stage, Alex reached to tuck Michael’s hair away from his face, before turning to wave over the bartender with his performer’s bracelet in view. “Claiming my free drink, can you make it -”

“Seltzer and lime,” Michael finished. “Trying out being good to myself here too.”

***

“You deserve a break.”

Michael looked up from his work on the gene sequencer that Liz had ‘acquired’ at the hospital with Valenti. Dubious acquisition of equipment meant that when it broke, or in this case was shot up, it was up to Michael to put it to rights. “I will take one, once this is fixed.”

Alex shook his head, and dropped the bag of takeout next to him. He straightened the pocket where his cover was stowed in his uniform absently, “And it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Both Liz and Rosa have altered protein structures because of being healed, and if healing a human changes your genetic makeup-”

Now it became clear to Alex, the force behind Michael’s almost manic drive to repair the equipment in the lab after the attack. “Michael, I’m fine.”

He froze, his hands still in the guts of the machine and gritted out, “you’re fine *now* but that could change.”

Sighing, Alex moved closer, slipping between Michael and his work. He started unbuttoning his uniform shirt, pulling the collar of his undershirt down to reveal the multicolor handprint. Michael echoed his sigh, leaving the machine and obligingly placed his hand over Alex’s chest on the mark. The healed left hand fit the outline perfectly.

“You saved me. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“I thought you could use the sleep.” Michael explained, from his seat on Alex’s bed. He was propped up against the headboard, dressed in what Alex recognized as his sweats, with his hair damp from a shower, but his eyes were tired from a sleepless night.

Alex glanced down at his phone in confused betrayal. His alarms were all silent, but more telling were a series of text messages from his sent box requesting a personal day from his secretary, and cancelling his dinner plans with Forrest. “So you broke into my phone and decided for me?”

“For an NSA trained cryptologist you should have better security-”

“I do for my work phone. This is my personal phone! As in, personal privacy-” Alex broke off, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.” He took another deep breath, and pushed down his nettled feelings to concentrate on what he was really reacting to, Michael’s.

The handprint shined between them, shouting in Alex’s ear, all of Michael’s fears and worry.

It was valid to be concerned. Just twelve hours ago the security at the school had been compromised by what Alex thought was a glitch from another lightning storm. He had walked into the lab, interrupting a squad of armed black-uniformed soldiers, and had been shot before he really realized what was going on. Waking to Michael’s white face, his hand still warm on Alex’s blood-soaked shirt, changed everything.

It also changed nothing at all.

“You were right, I needed the sleep. Thank you and it’s probably a good idea to stay home until this print fades, can’t exactly explain it if someone sees it.” It especially would be hard to explain to his boyfriend, Forrest. The pivotal third date was scheduled for tonight. Alex was both looking forward to it, and dreading it at the same time.

Moving on had been easier than he had expected when it came to dinner out, or drinks at the bar because Forrest was a great conversationalist, but sex was going to be a whole new ballgame for Alex.

Silently, Michael offered his own phone to Alex, the message app open.

The last message was to Maria, ‘You were right. It is my family, then Alex in my heart, then everyone else. I’m sorry.’

“I don’t understand,” Alex stuttered in surprise. “You said, you said we weren’t good for each other.”

“I can’t be good for someone, if I’m not being good to myself and that starts with being honest. Really honest, with myself. And it’s always been you, it’s always going to be you for me.” Michael smiled sadly, his eyes dropping to the mark on Alex’s chest. “You can do what you want with that information, Alex. I don’t expect anything.”

Well fuck. There was no denying the depth of Michael’s feelings or the sincerity in his words, since he was being treated to a psychic torrent of brutal honesty from the mark. Alex could trust that at least, but what kept him silent, was whether he could trust himself in return. In the past he had done a lot of self-destructive actions because of Michael, like putting himself back in Roswell for good.

“I can see the gears turning, it’s okay. Those are my cards on the table. I’ve given you lots of reasons to move on, hell some of them I said to myself, our past, the danger I put you in, plus I know I’m not a prize. My temper, plus I drink too much-”

“I don’t care, Michael.” Alex cut him off, and steadied himself under the quick rush of stung feelings from Michael. “I don’t care because I’ve never really cared about that. I cared when I thought you were hurting yourself because of me. And let’s face it, I’m all of those things to you, too. I’m dangerous to you, my family especially, and I’m a dick, I sometimes have to disappear because people are a lot-”

“Wait, wait, are you saying?”

Alex licked his lower lip, watching as Michael followed the movement with fragile hope, “I ah. I am saying, I sometimes perform at the Wild Pony, and there are free drinks for performers. When, when this handprint fades, I’d like to buy you one.”

#aewriting #malex fic #mentions of others #trying to get back on my bullshit #sorry if this is rusty and weird #roswell new mexico #malex

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loruleanheart · 3 years

Text

Desired Fate, Chapter 5

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

“Kill her...”

Zelda’s heart plummeted as the full weight of his words hit her, her world falling and crashing into a million pieces.

No! Wait...! She moved her mouth to protest, but no words came forth.

Zelda tried to take a step back only to find her legs were like lead. She tripped backward, falling into the shallow water.

The Champion imposters crowded her with swift precision, following their master’s order without hesitation. The dark Urbosa raised her scimitar. Zelda braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut. There was no one to save her. But even worse, she felt too numb to care.

And just as she resigned herself to this harsh fate, a blinding flash engulfed the forest, and the expected killing blow never came.

Zelda shielded her eyes, peeking out from between her fingers to see the Hollows writhing as they faded away.

Was that.... the spirit that lives within the sword....?

She shakily breathed out and looked around, the hooded man was looking at her with a shocked expression.

He turned to look at the sword, startled, “What?!”

Zelda was only vaguely aware as Link and the little Guardian came to her side, her knight having tracked her down with the little one in tow.

“Link?”

The knight offered her a hand.

“I’m… alright.” Zelda got to her feet on her own. The back of her pants was soaked from falling into the water. She grimaced in discomfort.

As Zelda stood, Link drew his sword and rushed at the hooded man, giving a shout.

“Link! Wait!”

“I won’t allow you to take that sword, boy.” The wizard threatened. Link cast a glance at the sword on the pedestal, still glowing as if beckoning for him to claim it. He tried to make his way to it, but it was clear the hooded man was intent on stopping him.

Zelda stood back, stunned. Link is... the hero?

The hooded wizard levitated the orb between his hands, summoning malice to rain down on the knight. Link ran to dodge it. The mysterious man countered, levitating himself as if being raised by some invisible force. He brought his knees to his chest, becoming one with the orb. The ball of energy rushed at the knight. Link flew through the air, landing hard on the dais. As the boy stirred he turned his head to see his standard-issue knight’s sword had been broken in two. Wasting no time, he got to his feet and pulled the sacred blade from its pedestal.

The hooded man sneered at the knight, backpedaling a few steps in hesitation before jumping back into the orb and flying at Link once again, in a rage. This time Link swung the sacred blade at the right moment, shattering the illusion. The wizard fell to the ground. The orb went back to its original size and shape and landed some feet away. The hooded man reached for it, but Link quickly kicked it further away and held him at sword point.

“You can’t kill me. I am fated to revive Calamity Ganon. My purpose isn’t complete.” There was a slight waver in his voice, that stirred something in Zelda.

She rushed to the Link’s side who was standing over the strange man.

“Who are you?” The Princess demanded.

“Well if you must know... Your Highness,” the man said coldly, “I am Astor, prophet of the Calamity. Lord Ganon selected me to bring this world to its knees,” he said defiantly.

Astor… His name is Astor… Zelda’s eyes met with his. His sharp yellow eyes were looking at her with disdain, but there was something else she saw. There was true terror in the man’s gaze, despite the coldness his voice projected.

Link held the edge of the sacred blade to Astor’s throat, threatening to apply dangerous pressure.

“Link, wait! No more... Please…” Zelda searched for an excuse not wanting to see a beheading right before her eyes. “H-he could be a valuable source of information on the Calamity if we take him alive.”

Link looked at her as if studying her expression. Her knight was unreadable to her and he said nothing in return. Zelda prayed she had come off as convincing enough. As the princess, she did have a sort of authority over him, and he was obligated to follow her orders, after all. So he didn’t protest.

As the knight was distracted, the prophet bolted upright and shoved past him, grabbing his fallen orb. Link moved to guard Zelda. The dome went up again, this time a hollow version of the hero emerged.

Astor glanced at Zelda, who was looking back at him over the boy’s shoulder. The two shared another long gaze. A conflicted expression crossed his pallid features. He hesitated and then pointed to the small Guardian which was some distance from Link and Zelda. “Destroy the Guardian!”

Zelda gave a small gasp, but before she could act, the manifestation of Link made fast work of the little Guardian, leaving it in pieces. Link moved to take down his copy, skillfully dispatching the Hollow with little effort, mercifully bringing an end to his doppleganger’s empty existence. The Hollow disappeared in a puff of red malice.

When Zelda looked back, Astor was gone. Zelda collected herself and breathed out in frustration as she approached the broken down Guardian, surveying the damage. Sure, It may have technically been a piece of artificial intelligence, but she’d begun to see it almost like a friend, having ascertained it had come from the future to protect her. It truly was her guardian. But what would become of her now? Without her sealing power did she still have a chance to stop the Calamity? She hung her head and shed a single tear.

There was a long moment of silence between the princess and the knight. She couldn’t read his expression, leaving her wondering what he was thinking - or worse what he thought of her. She held everything back, trying to project the same unreadable expression. It was the lowest she’d ever felt.

The silence was broken when the Champions found them.

“Zelda?” Urbosa came forward, seeing the broken Guardian at her feet. “Why would you wander away from the group? Are you hurt?”

“No, Urbosa. I’m… alright…” Said Zelda, still numb.

Urbosa looked down at the Guardian. “Oh my...” Urbosa sighed. “What should we do about this?”

Zelda thought for a moment. “.... Perhaps Robbie can repair it.”

“Ok Champions. You heard your Princess. Everyone help carry as many pieces as you can.” Urbosa said as a way to lighten the somber mood.

Everyone complied and no one complained. Not even Revali.

Zelda collected a few small screws and gears, putting them in her pouch connected to her belt.

oOo

They were on their way back to Hyrule Castle. Zelda sighed as she shielded her eyes from the setting sun. A few paces ahead of her was Link, Master Sword at his back.

Already Link has gone from an ordinary knight to the one destined to wield the sword that seals the darkness. Yet, I’m still in the same rut I’ve been in all my life. And now… It’s like I’ve got a target on my back because of this cursed power I can’t even use.

In her mind’s eye, the moment replays again and again. “Kill her.” His voice had been so dark, so cold, and so full of hate.

I’m such a fool… His image must have appeared on the Sheikah Slate as a warning, and I...

She felt tears threatening to break forth. She raised her hand to her face. And then she felt everyone’s gaze on her.

She stopped in her tracks, and her voice wavered as she spoke. “How can I… If I am unable to awaken my inner power…”

Urbosa came to Zelda’s side with concern in her eyes. “Okay everyone, let’s take a break.”

Everyone broke off and began to congregate in small groups. Urbosa pulled Zelda aside.

Zelda took a deep breath. “Link… He’s become so much stronger.” That was just the beginning of her troubles. Urbosa didn’t need to know anything beyond the obvious.

Urbosa smiled knowingly, “And yet, I have not. I presume that’s what you were thinking, hm?”

Zelda nodded. “More and more monsters have been appearing lately. It is a sign that the Calamity draws near. So there isn’t much time. And still, no sign of my power awakening…”

“Yes, I understand your frustration, but perhaps it is self-defeating to compare your progress to Link’s.” Urbosa turned her attention to the young knight, who was some distance from them being showered with praise by Daruk and some Hylian soldiers. “He… is the same boy he was before acquiring that sword.”

One of the soldiers held a plate of rocks. Link took a rock in each hand and wolfed them down without a second thought.

Urbosa gave an unsurprised cluck of her tongue. “He will rise to... any challenge with no hesitation. That’s all there is to it.”

Daruk laughed. “Well done, Little guy. Eat up!”

Zelda grimaced, feeling queasy.

Urbosa smiled at Zelda. “But I know that you too are capable of rising to any challenge. Look how hard you’ve worked to get this far.”

“But I’ve been trying all these years, and nothings changed….”

Urbosa went quiet for a moment, looking more saddened. “I know, little bird. I was there… I haven’t forgotten all your struggles. But I have faith that you are where you need to be and everything will unfold as it is meant to. You must accept that too.”

“But it isn’t… It isn’t in the slightest...” Zelda was reeling. Everything felt out of sorts and very wrong. “Excuse me, Urbosa….”

Before Urbosa could protest, Zelda walked away as fast as she could. It was all too much to bear. Her head was spinning. She was about to lose control of all her anxieties and distress she’d been holding back. She broke into a run, and as soon as she was out of sight she vomited.

oOo

“Is that the Sacred Blade I see?” King Rhoam stood up from his throne on the second floor of the sanctum. “Link, I’m very pleased it was you. Now I have divine confirmation that I made the right decision in choosing you as Zelda’s knight.” The king looked so pleasantly surprised he mercifully didn’t seem to notice Zelda’s disheveled state.

But Impa did.

“Your Highness…” Impa rushed to the Princess. Urbosa held a comforting hand to Zelda’s shoulder as she gave a nod to Impa.

“I’m fine, Impa. I just got a bit ill on the way back.”

“Thank you, Champions. You have done your duty well, and as a result, Hyrule’s hero has been discovered… There is only one last thing required to oppose the Calamity.” Rhoam looked to his daughter. “Oh… Where is that little Guardian? It’s usually always at your side.” Rhoam asked, which threw Zelda. He really was in an exceptionally good mood.

“Broken… Regretfully...”

“Ah… That’s unfortunate...” King Rhoam offered. His voice was not unkind. He even sounded a little disappointed and she wondered why.

“I’ll take it to Robbie and Purah first thing tomorrow for repair,” Zelda said, numb. Impa gave her a much needed gentle push towards her chambers.

“Link, Champions, I’d like you to join us for a celebratory dinner.” King Rhoam continued.

Zelda headed to her bedchamber, taking care of her disheveled state. She washed her face, undid her braid, and brushed her hair, before changing into her royal gown, one of her waiting maids stepping in to assist her in tying and lacing up areas that required an extra set of hands. The dress was exquisite, but truth be told, it limited her range of movement.

Zelda took her seat in the dining hall at a long table opposite her father. Link was to her left and seemed to acclimate to the formal setting quite well despite eating rocks with reckless abandon just a short time before. Impa was seated to her right. The Champions were further down the table, closer to Rhoam who exchanged pleasantries with the Champions. Daruk, Revali, and Urbosa dominated much of the conversation. Mipha was more reserved.

“You know, Mipha was just tellin’ me the other day how she believed Link would be the one who could wield the sword,” Daruk mused out loud to the whole table.

Mipha looked flustered, but then the Zora princess composed herself and said sweetly, “Daruk, I told you that in confidence.”

Daruk laughed. “Oh… Sorry. And yet, you were right. You should own it!”

“Is it my understanding that you and Link have been friends since childhood?” Rhoam asked, trying to make polite conversation.

Mipha stiffened at the King’s question. “Yes, that’s correct.” She smiled serenely at Link. The boy looked up from his meal, acknowledging the zora princess.

“It has been such a pleasure to have you join us for another meal after all these years, Chief Urbosa. It is deeply unfortunate that the queen could not be here to see this day.”

“Indeed… I think of her every day,” Urbosa replied. “Zelda looks so much like her. Now more than ever. The queen was about the same age Zelda is now when we first became friends.” Urbosa glanced across the table at Zelda, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Zelda, that’s your favorite cake and you’ve barely touched it,” said Impa, the royal aide showing concern in her voice.

It was true, she’d been kind of picking over it with her fork. “I’m quite full already…”

“It’s just unlike you to turn down fruit cake.”

“I can’t take another bite. I might get sick again…”

“Okay. Okay. Say no more.”

The dinner was winding down, and King Rhoam spoke in an official tone. “ We will hold a ceremony to honor the Champions in three days. Zelda, it will be your duty to handcraft the sacred blue garments for each of the Champions, including a tunic for Link.

Zelda closed her eyes, holding back a sigh. She replied dutifully. “Yes, Father. I’ll get started on them right away.”

#Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity #Age of Calamity #Astor #HWAOC #Zelast #fanfiction

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mikaa-mina · 4 years

Text

At Garden’s Edge- Chapter 1: Repeat Offender

“Oh dear.”

Fretfully Aziraphale stared down at the... well. It was a plant, certainly, but he hadn’t the faintest clue what kind of plant it was due to the circumstances in which he had acquired it. (The circumstances Aziraphale had acquired this plant were as follows: Shortly after killing the second plant, he returned to the plant shop thinking it was merely unwell and was promptly thoroughly embarrassed when informed, no, it most certainly was dead. In a bit of a, not-panic, as it were, he got another plant. Not for anything as silly as wanting to prove to the owner that he could in fact keep a plant alive. That would just be silly. All the same, with the embarrassment ringing in his ears, he didn’t quite hear what kind of plant he had scooped up to buy and, theoretically, keep alive.)

All the same, it was green, it grew, and was in a pot. Or. Rather. It had been green and it had been growing, only now it was rather a bit.... brown, and somewhat on the crumbly side. He didn’t think it had been crumbly when he bought it. And that had only been, what, a week ago?

Oh. Plants needed to be watered, didn’t they? Or at least, plants that weren’t catuses did. Catstuses? Cacti? Oh, well, regardless, this was rather leafy, er, had been rather leafy and not covered in spines so, a plant but not a cactus. Thus, it needed watering. Probably.

When was the last time he’d watered it?

....Had he watered it?

Ever?

“Oh dear...” No wonder it was brown. And before it had been just the loveliest shade of green too. Well, at least he knew what the problem was now.

A quick search of his book-laden shop produced no results but in the back room he found one of his many misplaced mugs and filled it with water from the tiny old sink back there.

Making his way back through the maze of books he nearly passed by the spot of crumbling brown. It blended in fairly well with all of his old leather-bound books, quite the opposite of it’s supposed purpose. Or, well, rather the excuse he’d given when buying the poor thing.

‘Just needed a pop of color in the shop’, he’d scrambled to say, ‘it’d liven the place up’, he’d continued on with the lie turned not-quite-a-lie.

He stared down at the plant with a frown. Right. What was it that Crowley fellow did to make his plants so perfect and verdant? A bit unconventional, Aziraphale thought, but then, it did seem to have surprisingly good results. Or maybe it didn’t. Aziraphale wouldn’t know, didn’t know, he knew next to nothing about plants.

He watched the plant, gave it a moment to let the water sink in as was only polite, then adopted his best stern glare. Hands on his hips, lips pursed in displeasure, he looked down at the plant from above.

“Alright.” He said sternly, searching his mind for the right words and a harsh tone, “you’d best... you’d best buck up, you hear? I’m most displeased with all this brown.”

His glare wobbled.

A brown stick- stem?- thing on it crumbled off to join the other dead bits in the pot looking so terribly dejected and unhappy.

The worried frown broke through Aziraphale’s glare and he stepped up closer to the pot feeling absolutely horrid about its poor state. “Oh, oh I’m sorry my dear. I’m sure you’re doing your best.” He hovered over the plant, unsure and twisting his pinky ring around his finger, “why don’t I give you a day, hmm? Let the water soak in and I’m sure you’ll be fit as a fiddle tomorrow! Or, er, fit as a.... as a plant I suppose. A healthy plant!”

He stared at it but alas the plant did nothing.

“Right.” He took a step away but his eyes kept darting back to the plant. He really did not want to show up at Crowley’s flower shop again with a dead plant. Another dead plant. The third dead plant.

He twisted the ring around his pinky finger.

Right.

Okay.

He drew himself up, all five feet and ten inches of himself, and instructed the plant firmly, “I expect you to grow better by tomorrow or I’ll be very displeased.”

A stern nod and then he left it. To hopefully consider his words and, er, buck up, as it were.

Tomorrow came and found Aziraphale properly embarrassed and recounting the whole sordid tale to Crowley, a man who was finding far too much delight in his troubles.

“And I did what you said to try but- well...” he gestured to the brown and crumbling plant as it if was explanation enough.

It was.

“I can’t get it to grow no matter what I do.”

Finally he looked back up at Crowley, the most unusual flower shop owner he had ever met, and found him biting his lip to keep from laughing. At him.

Aziraphale scowled.

“Are you quite through?”

Crowley’s grin only widened, the edges twitching with badly concealed mirth as he fought to keep his laughter back. “Sorry, sorry,” he managed at last, laughter tracing the edges of his entirely unapologetic words like fizz crackling in pop, “it’s just- well- it- it can’t feel shame if it’s dead Aziraphale.”

“Oh.” Meaning shaming it into growing better would do nothing.

A laugh slipped through Crowley’s pursed lips and Aziraphale groaned, “really Crowley? Must you? Whatever is so funny about me killing another plant?”

The man shrugged, unable to keep his amusement off his face. Aziraphale was sure if he could see the man’s eyes that they’d be shining with laughter. “I’ve never seen someone- er, uh, hm,” he seemed to suddenly break off to chew his words in a rather sudden change of mind, “Well, hey, at least this one lasted longer.”

Aziraphale wished he wouldn’t wear those large dark sunglasses all the time, it was rather hard to decipher his expressions with just the rest of his face. Eyes were always so expressive, even with just the way they could crinkle at the edges, darken, or flicker away. They were extremely helpful in reading people in general, giving insight into sudden changes like the one that happened just now.

Crowley’s head dipped down as he looked at the plant before he glanced away only to do a double take. His eyebrows rose slowly as he leaned in towards the plant, hands drifting to settle on either side of the pot.

“How often did you say you watered it again?”

Bugger.

“I didn’t. Say, that is.”

Crowley’s head tilted up to look at him. Aziraphale twisted his ring.

“Aziraphale...” Oh he did not like the way he drew out his name. He drew it out slowly, with a budding hint of fiendish delight, like he’d caught Aziraphale with his hand in the cookie jar which was absurd because they were both adults and furthermore it should not have sent a little shiver through him- “did you even water this plant at all?”

“Of course I did!”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose high above the sunglasses in disbelief as he glanced between Aziraphale and the dead plant. A smirk slithered its way across his lips, his snake bite piercings glinting in the shop lights like a warning, like the flash of fangs before the bite, like-

“Before it was dead?” he challenged knowingly.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked elsewhere, refusing to give Crowley the satisfaction of a surrender.

Crowley laughed anyways, a sharp bright thing that startled his heart into skipping a beat. His cheeks flushed in mortification. Three dead plants, really? Three.

“If you’re quite through,” Aziraphale chanced a quick glance at the rather unprofessional shop owner dressed in a black leather jacket and piercings who was apparently still struggling not to laugh further at his customer. In the customer's face! Honestly! It was a wonder he got any business at all with customer service like this; it was probably a good thing he was so endearing or Aziraphale wouldn’t have come back. What with his laugh, sense of humor and-

“How about I suggest a plant for you this time?”

Considering the last three plants were chosen rather spotty criteria, that was probably... for the best. Especially since said criteria had been, at the moment of choosing, the following: 1. Whatever plant was closest to him that was also 2. appealing looking and 3. colorful, as to comply with his first lie as to why he was there.

(Said lie was told in a moment of panic when he had dropped by the flower shop without fully realizing that’s where his feet had taken him to. This wouldn’t have been cause for alarm if not for the fact of their first meeting and also that once asked if there was anything Crowley could help him with he came upon the realization that he had been thinking of him since their first meeting and couldn’t for the life of him think of what to say. He’d meant to say something companionable, like picking up on their conversation about plays, but ended up empty headed and dumbly pointing at the first colorful plant he saw and excusing it as “needing a pop of color in the shop” to “liven it up”. After all, it was a flower shop, so surely it was normal for people to pop by looking for plants? That wouldn’t be odd. Right? Right.)

“Oh alright,” he said, giving in as if he were doing Crowley the favor of letting him choose instead of the other way around.

As a reward he was granted a glimpse at one of those flash-paper grins Crowley seemed to have when he felt particularly victorious. Which was a bit ridiculous given that choosing a plant for Aziraphale had been what spurred it but it was bright and nearly so infectious that Aziraphale was fighting back a grin.

Crowley turned on the spot, spinning slowly and casting appraising eyes across the shop like a general looking for his best soldier. Or at least, the one that could best stand up for the current mission.

Oh dear. The mission was surviving Aziraphale’s care wasn’t it?

“Ah, ones with no pollen if you could, my dear.” The stuff got absolutely everywhere and he-

“Right, don’t want to damage your books, yeah. I remember. Said you ran a book evaluation shop right?” Crowley was still scanning the room looking for the perfect plant so he missed the way Aziraphale lit up at his casual remembrance of his pride and joy.

He knew he rather tended to, ah, “go on and on” about it as it were and that most people found it dreadfully boring. As a result he tended to try and avoid talking about it, so he knows he only brought it up once, maybe twice, in the four times he’s met with Crowley. He hadn’t wanted to bore the first interesting conversational partner he’d had in a while and also having that bored, glazed over, checked out look aimed at his pride and joy stung more than just a bit.

So. That Crowley had bothered to remember and then even bring it up in conversation was... strangely touching.

Crowley glanced at him and at once Aziraphale realized he’s been lost in his head a few moments too long.

“Correct my dear,” he cut himself off out of habit from adding ‘and restoration’ and cleared his throat to rid it of the surprise in his voice only to undo all of that with his next unexpected words, “I’m surprised you remembered honestly.”

Crowley actually tuned all the way around to face him for that, both eyebrows raised dramatically over his sunglasses as to not be missed.

“What? Why not? ‘Course I remember, don’t have that bad of a memory.”

“Well, it’s just,” he fidgeted with his ring, “I’m surprised to care about my owning a bunch of dusty books.”

Crowley made a few interesting, if confusing, noises in the back of his throat before stumbling his way into actual words, “wha- gah- don’t, don’t say that about them Aziraphale, it’s obvious you love them-”

“Love?!” he spluttered flushing in mortification, “I would hardly-”

Crowley stilled from his anxious fluttering about and gave Aziraphale a crooked tilt of a smile. He was surprised to find it a bit... tender.

“Aziraphale. You near light up the room when you talk about your books and your shop.”

“I-”

Firmly, but gently, “you do.” A cough and Crowley turned away but not before Aziraphale caught the pink high on his cheeks. “Anyways, it’s fine. I like seeing you light up- I mean! Uh, smile- ack- i- guh-” his shoulders hunched up a bit, “whatever. Just- talk about it all you want. I get it.”

And standing there, in the middle of a veritable greenhouse sanctuary of plants, of flowers, of things oft thought of as trivial, or pretty but not worth much, of the things Crowley so clearly loved and prided himself on, Aziraphale realized he did get it. And more than just that, more than just sympathizing/empathizing with him, he wanted Aziraphale to talk about his shop, his work, the things he took pride and joy in.

A little stunned, a little touched, awed, the soft “oh” slipped out all on its own.

Crowley grumbled a bit, but with his back to Aziraphale he could see very clearly how the tips of his ears were pinking. “Right. So. Uh. Talk about your books all you want.”

Aziraphale smiled.

“All right.”

Crowley stilled, then chanced turning halfway towards him with a glance before pretending to inspect a nearby plant. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

A blink and you’ll miss it flash of a smile before, “right. Plants then.” And without another word on the subject he stalked off towards his chosen victim across the shop, looking all the word for a predator on a mission. The image was only broken by his constant, lovely, rambling of what kind of plant it was, how to care for it, and how this one should be up to snuff and wouldn’t dare disappoint either of them. Aziraphale politely pretended not to hear his soft hissed threat to the plant of “would it?” but he couldn’t quite hide his smile quick enough before Crowley turned around. They both faltered for a moment, something hovering in the shop, new and fragile; It seemed tight, strung like a tightrope. Tense but not hard.

Crowley spluttered into the ending of his plant ramble before pushing the potted plant into Aziraphale’s hands almost a touch rushed. “Right. Snake plant, remember. Sturdy, beautiful, shouldn’t give you any trouble.” There was a stink eye aimed at the plant of all things, “No direct sunlight, shouldn’t have to water it all that often.” Here the stink eye at the plant morphed into a glint aimed at Aziraphale, Crowley’s mouth doing a crooked slant of a teasing grin as he finished with, “About once every two to three weeks instead of days. That sound doable?”

A nervous return smile and Aziraphale managed a, “yes. Quite.” as he fought to keep the bubble of embarrassment in his chest from popping.

The grin wobbled a touch into smile territory before Crowley coughed and looked elsewhere for a moment. “Right. So. Any questions and you can call me. Er. The shop. Me at the shop.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Sounds jolly good.”

“Jolly good?”

“Oh, don’t make fun.”

“Never,” the grin seemed to slip onto Crowley’s face of it’s own accord, “you just have the oddest way of talking.”

“Crowley.”

“Oh I didn’t mean that as a bad thing, honest!” He held up his hands placatingly, eyes dancing with delight, “It’s very you.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure whether he was meant to take that as a compliment or insult. He decided it didn’t matter how it was meant and that he’d take it as a compliment regardless. “Well. Thank you I suppose.”

Crowley didn’t laugh, though it seemed to be a near thing as he fought back a grin rather dismally. “Sure thing, Aziraphale.”

Nine Days Later

Crowley stared down at the terribly drooping and definitely dead snake plant with total horrified amazement.

“I-wha.... how?!”

Sheepishly Aziraphale began making his excuses but Crowley wasn’t even listening to him, instead he was muttering under his breath to himself about counting days and how ‘these things practically thrived with neglect! So how?!’

Aziraphale let his excuses trail off, clearly he wasn’t being listened to anyways, and the hot flush of embarrassment climbing up his cheeks was taking all his willpower to keep down anyhow. It had been nine days. A record but still.

“But-i-you-” Crowley’s stuttering stopped suddenly as he peered even closer at the plant, his face nearly in the plant, eyebrows scrunched down while his critical eyes surely picked out the details of the plant’s death. Then his eyebrows shot up in surprise before a low groan escaped the man, a hand reaching up into his hair to run through it but instead stopping to grip it tightly in frustration as he looked at Aziraphale, flabbergasted.

“First you can’t remember to water the plant, ever!- and then- and then I give you a plant you’re not supposed to water for 2 weeks and you-you waterboard it to death!”

“It looked parched!”

“It- it- parched?!” repeated Crowley, incredulous.

“Yes!”

“I-it-gah!” he seemed to be having problems with speaking, stuttering and stumbling over half formed words before finally landing on a slightly helpless, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then perhaps,” Aziraphale started primly, “if you can’t think of anything nice to say then you shouldn’t say anything at all.” A pause where Crowley’s mouth fell open in astonishment, filling Aziraphale with a sort of delighted glee, and then he added, “and then perhaps when you’re done with that you can sell me another plant. A... sturdier plant.”

Crowley tilted his head back and laughed, bright and sharp.

“Sturdier he says. Yeah, yeah alright, I can do that.”

He was still grinning when he led the way back through the isles of plants.

You can also read this on Archive of Our Own! :DD

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fanfiction #Crowley #Aziraphale #Ineffable Husbands #Just Ineffable #Human AU #Flower shop AU #Humor #Romance #Comedy #Multi Chapter Fic #At Garden's Edge #My Writing #Good Omens fic #Gomens fic

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