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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

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Title: Angelic.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo/Reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

Synopsis: You like being an angel. You’re proud of it, of your wings, of your faith, of all you’ve done to earn your place in the Celestial Realm. Diavolo doesn't mind your current state, of course not, he loves every part of you. He just thinks some modifications may need to be made, before he can love you properly.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Touching, Blood, Possessive Mindsets, Slight Dehumanization, and Mentions of Non-Con.

Michael used to say only the bravest angels earned their wings.

It was part of the reason they were so rare, after the Celestial War, after Lucifer and his brothers took their wings and distorted them into leathery, spiked, perverted evidence of their new, tainted loyalties. You didn’t have to be the toughest angel, but you had to be devoted, you had to be dedicated beyond a shadow of a doubt, and you had to be brave enough to put that dedication on display. You were just a messenger, a servant to much more deserving candidates, but you still had a pair sprouting from your shoulder blades, just heavy enough to give you a reason to straighten your back, whenever you started to lose faith in your divinity. You’d earned them, and you were proud. You’d managed to keep them, and you had no plans to give them up.

Only the bravest angels had wings. That meant you were a brave angel.

It meant you could be brave enough to survive Diavolo, as long as you had your wings.

They were warm, too, forming a soft, white shell around your upper body, helping you to block out that unignorable chill that came hand in hand with the Devildom. It’d been a temporary discomfort in the past, something you could brush aside whenever you were asked to carry a letter to the Demon Lord’s castle or invited as a make-shift ambassador in the absence of a proper representative, but after days trapped in the domain, your shining sun replaced with layers of stone and rock, there was little you could do to escape it, and Diavolo seemed hesitant to offer his aid. His kindness had stopped at a silk gown, black and thin and just teetering on the edge of purposefully sheer, the fabric fine enough to slip through his fingers as he toyed with the hem, perched on the edge of your bed, edging closer despite your obvious attempts to melt into the headboard.

He said you’d have your own space, your own room, that he wanted you to feel comfortable enough to welcome him in willingly, when you were ready. He said he would give you time.

Obviously, he’d been lying, and you weren’t quite why you’d ever bothered to believe him.

The silence was tense. There’d been a greeting when he came in, a gesture of good will you hadn’t returned, but if Diavolo was bothered, it didn’t stop him from smiling, a simper tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced towards you, attempting to catch your eye while you glared at the sheets. That didn’t stop him from speaking, though, attempting to clear the air and only making the atmosphere more poluted, as a result. “I take it you don’t care for my hospitality.”

His tone was light, jovial. Less of an attempt to coax you into a comfortable lull and more of a genuine fondness, regardless of whether or not the object of his affection returned the sentiment. “I don’t want to…” You wanted to go home. You wanted him to undo whatever spell he’d cast on the door and the windows and all the other exits that wouldn’t open, no matter of how many times you slammed yourself against them. You wanted him to let you go, but he wouldn’t. He’d already done enough to prove that, just by coming to you so happily. “I just don’t like it here.”

He dropped your gown, humming as he let his touch drift to your thigh, instead. You only pulled your legs closer, your wings tightening around you, attempting to provide another layer of reassurance. It was a futile pursuit, but still, you could appreciate the effort. “You’re cold?” There wasn’t a point in trying to avoid conversation, so you didn’t try, just nodding as he scanned over you. His skin was warm against yours, but unpleasantly so. Like taking a step too close to an open hearth and letting the heat become searing, rather than soothing. “It gets easier, with time. Angels usually have a difficult time adapting, but you’ll get used to it. And if you don’t…” He paused, his grin growing just a bit wider. “There are plenty of ways to speed up the process.”

Right. You’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. It wasn’t enough for him to just keep you trapped here, against your will and so far from your natural element.

He needed to make you a monster, too. Something just as demonic and just as disgusting as he was.

You were thankful your face was hidden. He wouldn’t have taken it kindly, if he caught the way you grimaced at his suggestion. “I mean, I don’t like it here, Diavolo. It’s not just the cold. I don’t like being underground. I don’t like not being able to leave.” He wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew what he’d done, he knew how you felt about it, but for whatever reason, he refused to acknowledge your rejection. You couldn’t expect him to be kind, but you could expect him to be reasonable. “I don’t want to be a demon, or a fallen angel, or whatever you plan to turn me into. I’m just… I’m not supposed to be.”

“That’s one of the wonderful parts of having power, isn’t it?” It was a chuckle, a breath of a laugh. “I can help you change. With my assistance, you could be something greater than what you are, now. You could be a ranking demon, a name known and feared in—”

“Your servant.” You didn’t bother letting him finish. He was touching you, and you wished he wasn’t. The sooner this ended, the sooner he might stop. “I'll be your servant. Just as I’m Michael’s servant, now.”

Diavolo didn’t bother trying to deny it. “You'll my lover, as well. Isn’t that worth losing a few feathers?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You didn’t want to be his lover, or his servant, or any role he had to offer. You wanted to be a messenger. You wanted to live a life you could be proud of, you wanted to feel the sunlight on your wings, and you didn’t want to give that up for the first crazed prince to take an interest in you. You didn’t want to give up your wings. Not to him, and certainly not for a prize so undesirable.

Your head lulled to the side, and for the first time since your arrival, you let yourself smile as you spoke.

“I like being an angel.”

Michael used to say only the most faithful angels earned their wings.

Only the most faithful, only the most trusting, only the least likely to be led astray by awful rumors and mortal temptations, by all the urges that’d drove so many of your brothers and sisters to abandoning the Celestial Realm entirely, trading it in for more forgiving terrains. You trusted Michael. You trusted every cherub, every seraph, every throne, every angel. Before, you’d trusted them to guide you, to correct you when you were in the wrong, and now, you trusted them to save you, to come for you, to do something to bring you home and as far from Diavolo as you could possibly be. You trusted them. You trusted them with your life, let alone your freedom.

And, you trusted that Michael had a good reason to wait so long to rescue you, too.

You were starting to lose track of how much time had passed, since you’d been abducted. It felt like two weeks, maybe three, but with Diavolo’s sporadic schedule and no sun to dim or brighten, you really didn’t have a way to be sure. His paperwork didn’t help, sprawled across his desk, all messily written notes and correspondences too personal to need dates or signatures. You looked regardless, doing what you could to search through the mess from your awkward position on his knee, your wings folded stiffly against your back. It had to be here. You knew it’d be here, you just had to—

On the corner of his desk, a letter with its envelope still sitting on top of it. A letter you didn’t remember delivering.

A letter with Michael’s insignia pressed into its torn surface. The insignia you’d dedicated your life to. The insignia you’d continue to dedicate your life to, as soon as you got away from Diavolo.

It would’ve been better to stay quiet. It would’ve been better not to say anything at all. It would’ve been smarter, but your mouth was already opening, your lips already moving, and before you could stop yourself, the question you’d been dying to ask was already spilling out. “Does he know?”

Diavolo hesitated, the constant scrawling of his quill going silent. Even then, he took a moment to answer, his tone suddenly much more patronizing than it had any right to be, for such a simple question. “Darling,” He started, his hand falling to your hip, rubbing circles idly into your side. “Michael’s a smart man. I’m sure he’s realized where you are, by now.”

“I know.” Michael had to know. You couldn’t take a step out of line without earning a lecture for your ‘disobedience’, most days. “But, you’re lying to him, aren’t you?” It was more of a hopeful thought than an accusation. Something you just wished he’d be kind enough to tell you, rather than honest enough to disregard. “He doesn’t think I’m… He doesn’t think I’m here like this, right?”

There was a pause, and his hand stopped moving.

This time, he didn’t try not to laugh.

It was an awful feeling, his chest pressing against your back, just the hint of his weight forcing you to slouch as his lips ghosted over the dip of your shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin at every chuckle, every wistful sigh, every painful word you couldn’t beg him not to say, not without losing your dignity, too. “What do I have to lie about?” You shuddered as he kissed you, the gesture fleeting, but no less repulsive. If Diavolo noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m taking care of you. You’re housed and fed and looked after, and you could be entertained, if I trusted you to wander out of my sight. He’s aware of my feelings for you, and if he asked, I’d be happy to tell him all about my stubborn little dove and spoiled you’ve become, with me.”

‘If he asked’. You were used to the way he talked about you – like a pet, like something to be adored and cooed over and cared for, but you’d be lying if you said something didn’t crack inside of your chest at that, at the implication that Michael hadn’t asked, not yet. It could’ve been a tactic, a strategy to guide Diavolo into a false sense of security. It could’ve been part of one of the many ‘greater plans’ your superior had always been so endeared by.

That, or he just didn’t care. It wasn’t like you were the only messenger in the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo must’ve caught your worried frown, the half-hearted, distracted glare you couldn’t seem to completely suppress. His next kiss lasted longer than his first, lingering against the nape of your neck. Temptation, poorly guised under the pretense of comfort. “Angels are fickle creatures, Michael especially. You’re dear to me, you know that, but I can’t say everyone is quite as emotional.” He gave you time to respond, but you didn’t take the opportunity. You didn’t have anything to say, not when he got like this. “It might be a little less painful if you—”

“I like being an angel,” You snapped. It didn’t have anything to do with Michael, or his approval, or whether or not he cared that you were stuck in the same frozen, sunless hell he’d sent you to, trapped by the same devil he’d insisted that you see day in and day out despite your complaints, despite the lasting touches and the prolonged visits and that awful, possessive glint in Diavolo’s eye, when he looked at you. You didn’t care about Michael, not when it came to this. Not when you already knew what you were. “I’m an angel. I’ll always be an angel. I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

It was the truth, but Diavolo only sighed, your wings straining not to lash out as he pulled you closer. Straining not to protect you, however necessary their service was beginning to seem.

“We’ll see.”

Michael used to say only the strongest angels earned their wings.

Strong in will, strong in mind, strong, whether or not you had any place on a battlefield. Out of all Michael’s compliments, it was the rarest, saved for soldiers and generals and magicians of the highest order, communicated in sparse bits of praise you felt lucky just to overhear. Maybe if you’d ever gotten your second pair, he would’ve said it to you, too. Maybe if you’d ever sought to be more than a messenger, he would’ve thought you were worthy of it. Maybe, if you escaped on your own, he’d smile and place a hand on your shoulder and celebrate your strength, your wings, your perseverance, you.

Maybe, if you escaped soon enough, you’d still want him to.

In your defense, it’d taken you a month just to get this close to the outside world, just to be able to see the Devildom beyond the walls of Diavolo’s castle, albeit still restrained to a balcony. It was brighter than you expected, the landscape below glowing with floating lanterns and glinting streetlights, ancient estates and modern stores standing side by side, a testament to the contained chaos of Diavolo’s domain. It was beautiful, even if you must’ve seen it a hundred times before. It was breathtaking, if only because it wasn’t the same stone and mortar, the same bedrooms and offices and grand ballrooms too empty not to come off as uncanny. You haven’t even asked for it, not unprompted.

It was a gift. It was a reward for your good behavior, not unlike your wings.

You pushed the thought out of your mind as soon as Diavolo’s armed wrapped around your waist. You’d wanted your wings. You’d worked for them. You’d never wanted this.

Still, you didn’t push him away. You wanted more time to take it in, another minute of feeling that humidity against your skin, another second of breathing fresh air. As long as you got that, you could ignore his unnatural body-heat, the feeling of his lips against the side of your neck, trailing towards your jaw while you bit back your usual complaints. That was his reward, for being such a considerate captor. He got to touch you, actually touch you, and for once, you had a good reason not to fight back.

Your wings had never liked to listen to logic, though. Despite your grit teeth, your white-knuckle grip on the low guard-rail, your right wing still plastered itself to your side, wrapping around you protectively while its twin hovered behind Diavolo, at your side, caught between the urge to push itself between you and a perceived threat and your commands to relax, fall back, do something that didn’t make your shoulders ache and your spine cramp every time you shifted. Fortunately, Diavolo seemed unfazed, only bothering to brush your wing away when it bumped against his back, reacting to every nip to your jaw, every brush of pointed fangs against your jugular.

He barely pulled away to speak, his voice coming out muffled. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

“I can’t really control them,” You mumbled, your grip growing impossibly tighter around the guard rail. Diavolo was pulling you closer, now, his hold not quite crushing, but still as suffocating as it’d ever been. “I… I think I’m just nervous. They start to get fidgety when I’m on-edge, y’know?”

There was a laugh, a peck the corner of your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching back. It wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d tried, it wasn’t even the most invasive, but the fact that he felt comfortable trying at all wasn’t a good sign. “Are you still scared of me, my love?” It was a question, but he didn’t give you time to answer, only tugging you towards him, his knee slipping between your legs as you were forced to face him, abandoning your railing and your only source of stability, in the process. “I think I’ve been kind, and you must see that I’m being patient. I’ve trying to be gentle with you, despite how cold you’ve been, since I took you in.”

A hand dropped to your thigh, and your vision tinged black around the edges. He must’ve been able to feel your pulse racing, but he didn’t seem disturbed by your sudden anxiety. “Only because I haven’t given you permission to be anything but gentle, yet.”

Something sparked in his eyes, a dark sort of fire. “I don’t need your permission for everything, you know.”

For once, you and your wings were in agreement.

It helped that he wasn’t expecting it. You’d always been passive when it came to action, too timid to fight back in any meaningful way, so when you lashed out, when you wedged a strong wing between his body and yours and shoved, he was caught off-guard, letting you go out of instinct alone. You didn’t bother trying to subdue him. He was a head taller than you and twice as strong, but you were faster, you were frenzied, and whatever he might’ve expected, it couldn’t have been what you did next. In the space between one second and another, you were on top of the railing, struggling to keep your balance as your wings stretched to their full length for the first time in weeks. You felt a hollow throb, a pang of discomfort, but you weren’t deterred. You needed to get out of here. You needed to fly. You couldn’t leave his kingdom, but as long as you left him, you’d be alright. You wanted to fly. You had to fly.

But, as soon as you’d jumped, a fist wrapped around your ankle, and you were thrown back onto the balcony before your wings could do so much as flap.

It hurt. More than anything, it hurt, from the new crack in your ribcage to the spot where something shattered in the arch of your left wing. You curled into yourself instinctively, a faltering whimper turning into a broken scream as Diavolo’s foot caught the bend of your fractured wing, still fluttering pathetically in an attempt to aid you. “I’m trying to be nice,” He snarled, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded disappointed, exasperated, tired of you and your refusal and how little he seemed to respect either. There was an airy, exhausted chuckle on his part, then a ragged sob on yours. “Would it really be so awful to be with me? Have I really done something monstrous enough to deserve this?”

Yes. It was, he had, yes. That’s what you wanted to say, what you meant to, but your tongue refused to form the words. “I d-don’t—” You slurred, instead, only to be cut short by your own hitched cry. “I… I like being an angel, I don’t wanna— I can’t—”

“I know.”

His heel pressed into your wing, blood seeped from matted feathers, and something hot and agonizing shot from your injury to your brain. Like lightening. Like liquid mercury. Like fire.

You didn’t even have a chance to close your eyes before the world went dark around you.

You used to say you’d rather lose your head than your wings.

It was one of those stupid, short-sighted things people liked to say when they were feeling bold, when they were safe, when they’d just gotten something new and shiny and hadn’t grown tired of showing it off. Sometimes it was an arm, some days your legs, and when you were feeling particularly brave, you’d say your heart, despite how useless your wings would probably be without something so vital. It might’ve been different if you were ever actually up against a threat that wanted to take one or the other, but it still would’ve been your choice. That was what you were stuck on, really. You thought you’d get to choose.

But, you hadn’t.

Diavolo must’ve grown tired of letting you make the wrong decision, all while he tried to be so helpful.

You felt hollow when you woke up, lying on a bed you’d never seen before. Lighter than you should’ve been, sliced open and carved out, missing something necessary and warm and filling. Your throat felt dry, your eyes stung, and when you tried to roll onto your side, when you tried to move at all, it felt like every tissue, every tendon, every cell in your body was trying to tear itself apart. The pain was all-consuming, and it only seemed to get worse as you shrunk into yourself, your arms wrapping around your sides and your wings following—

Oh.

It was kind of funny, how long it’d taken you to notice.

You didn’t have to look. You kept your eyes shut, a cracked sob slipping past your lips as you tried desperately to move your wings, to lift them, to flap them, to do something beyond digging your nails into the sheets and cursing, panting, waiting for anything. The pain dimmed, numbing into something distant, something unimportant as you tried to push yourself up, but a strong hand clamped around your shoulder before you could make any progress, not forcing you to lay down, but urging you to, not giving you another choice.

That seemed to be a trend, lately.

You tried to thrash. You tried to struggle, but Diavolo just clicked his tongue, the mild sound of disapproval serving as your only warning before he sat up, an arm soon thread underneath the small of your back and the bend of your knees, lifting you into his lap without the option to pull away. “Please, try not to move.” As always, he was gentle, hushing your weak protests before you could think to vocalize them. “Your wounds are still healing. It’d only be more painful if you tore your stitches, and the mess—”

“What—What did you do—” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, but it didn’t matter. You were desperate, and you needed to do something. “I can’t… Why can’t I feel my wings?”

There was a slight pause, the smallest hesitation. You swear, you could feel his smile burning into you, as he started to speak. “You said you wanted to be angel, my love.” It was a crime, how soft his voice was, how tenderly he held you. A captor masquerading as a caretaker. A demon as a doting lover. “But, I couldn’t have you trying to fly away. Consider this a compromise, an alternative to keeping my little songbird locked in a cage.”

You might’ve preferred a cage. A cell, a prison, a chain around your ankle, anything over the strange dissonance that came with having half of yourself ripped away and discarded. But, Diavolo hadn’t given you the choice. Michael hadn’t saved you, and now, after you’d been damaged so severely, you doubted he ever would.

You liked being an angel. You really, really liked being an angel. You’d never wanted to be anything else.

You just weren’t sure if you could be an angel, without your wings.

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sanktagenyas · 3 years

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ok ok ok so i’m on ep 6 (about to start it) of shadow and bone and i’m not writing this ‘cause i’m full of restraint and don’t wanna keep watching all the way through far from it but i have some thoughts.

ok first things first: darklina. i love them and i think i have to attribute a lot of why i love them so much to ben barnes and jessie mei li’s portrayal and their chemistry which is just on fire. i already like book version (what i’ve read so far at least) a lot so there was a lot to live up to. that was pretty much top priority for me will they do these two justice and i have high expectations for the scenes between them now that alina’s made her turn, now that she knows who the darkling really is.

now there are a couple of changes been made from the book which was to expect but that kinda bugged me. in the book the darkling is very evasive, alina sees him very rarely which makes sense the man ought to be busy planning if they’re gonna go into the fold eventually. and so because the moments between them are rarefied there’s this anticipation to it all and i wish the show would have spaced out their scenes together more so that it would translate. i also personally thought reading the book that the darkling deliberately kept his distance from alina because she unsettles him. she makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time. i always thought that if he wanted to keep her at his side and loyal he could have easily seduced her into bed a lot sooner than he tried to. after that if he’d played his cards right he could have spun her another tale to make her adhere to his plans with the fold. he could have convinced her it was the right thing to do if he really is that good of a manipulator but i always figured his feelings for her were getting in the way of him going that extra mile, hence him keeping his distance.

i got spoiled about his name and i didn’t quite get why she learns about it now. that’s gonna ruin whatever weight that moment has in the books. actually that moment won’t happen now i’m guessing.

also because since i’m being picky i might as well add that i wish this whole talk of the black heretic had gone the way it has in the books. she’s practically having to pry information out of him like his age but here he tells her about the black heretic and not just that but also how he feels about being blamed for his ancestor’s mistakes. i get it, it’s manipulation but i prefer the less open version of the darkling from the book. that version seemed more sincere, he didn’t spin a tearful tale of a boy marked unjustly and decried for his ancestor’s sins. he just said it matter of factly. he lied but at least he wasn’t being a manipulative ass about it in the book. withholding information and outright lies are bad enough but using alina’s own pain for being an outsider/undesirable against her by weaving this tale of him being one too was just a bit much.

but i think it plays a part in a bigger issue i have with the show but more on that later.

i did really really enjoy darklina so far regardless. the more open version of the darkling means that we get to see alina tease a lightness (pun intented) out of him that make him seem younger than he is, more of the innocent boy he once was maybe but then again he reverts back to that calculating cold gaze just in time. lest we forget who our villain is here. i absolutely LOVED the fact that they gave alina more agency and more of an active role in the relationship, i couldn’t be happier about the fact that we lost their original book first kiss post baghra training if it means we get to see alina kiss him first. she really blossomed once she let go of mal i don’t know if you noticed. that flashback of her hurting herself so she would fail the grisha’s test was heartbreaking to see. really hammered home for me why i can’t get behind malina.

which brings us to malina. i’ll keep it brief. i wish the show would stop shoving these two at us like you’d push a puppy onto an unwilling adopter. no matter how shiny and big those eyes are i’m not interested. the use of flashbacks to their common past and to that damn meadow was excessive to say the least and i kept waiting and waiting to feel what the showmakers were intending to invoke in their audience but i must not be the target for it because i just didn’t. there’s an appeal to the kind of ease and fondness that two best friends have between one another and in both their actions (especially mal’s actually, another change from book form) the love is apparent but that doesn’t change the conclusion i reach inevitably when it comes to these two: they are a codependant mess. they let themselves go when they’re not together as if being separated means a fate worse than death, as if they can’t function without the other. that’s especially true for alina. and they both make foolish reckless choices that hurt other people in the process of getting back to one another. but at least in mal’s case he had reason to fear for her safety and didn’t put mikhael and dubrov in harm’s way on purpose. alina’s short sightedness when burning those maps was the one moment i was genuinely fuming mad at our hero.

and then there’s mal. a mal pov means a chance to get to know him better and go from me tolerating the guy to liking him or heck maybe even love him. if i could love mal half as much alina does it would make his scenes so much better instead of being the most boring part of any episode and i’d say natural seeing as he’s also competing with a lot of very lively and interesting characters. i mean kaz is pretty damn stoic and yet i’m never bored by him, not for one second. the issue is that mal’s scenes revolve around alina, his scenes are yet another way to shove malina down our throats and i cannot take it. i appreciate his bravery and his loyalty but his best scene to me is the one with him crying over mikhael’s dead body. a scene devoid of any callback to alina or malina. give him a story that doesn’t revolve around her, give him more to do beside being his own one man rescue team for alina. he deserves better.

now my big fear is darklina related i’m thinking because they made the darkling much more open with alina it’s all gonna seem more deliberate to her, she’s going to not just doubt and fine comb through her interactions with him to find the lie she’s going to be flat out convinced it was just an act from start to finish which means more angst. i hope they won’t go from the heat of these two together to just dead coldness and that they’d keep alina’s pull that she feels towards him. i didn’t forget how she just melted into him against herself when he kissed her again even though she was his captive then and under threat of harm. i didn’t forget how she still feels about him by that point and i hope the showrunners and writers didn’t forget. they don’t need to diminish darklina to push their malina agenda and if they do? well maybe malina isn’t as attractive of a ship as they think it is.

#shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova

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evening-starlight · 3 years

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Chances {Chapter Eleven}

I lied, this is the longest chapter. They just keep getting longer ya’ll

Master List

Comfortable, Not Easy

Word Count: 2010

I spent the next two weeks avoiding everyone and everything thing, especially after I slipped and invited Jared over. Not my proudest moment. Robbie dropped by a couple of times to coax me out of bed, but it didn't work. I felt dirty, used, and stupid. I called Jared after he assaulted me in front of my house like a whore and let him stay over for nine days.

It wasn't necessarily comfortable being with Jared for nine days, but it was familiar. I knew what to expect from waking up to going to bed. Tom was texting to check in as well, and I ignored every sweet text he sent me. I couldn't face the fact that he was there, waiting for me to recoup while I was living with my ex again.

Robbie finally kicked Jared out on day ten for me. I told him about the kisses and how horrible I felt letting Jared stay on day nine. Jared was gone before I woke up, and Robbie was trying to pull me out of bed. Literally.

Robbie pulls on my ankle repeatedly, trying to loosen my hold on the headboard. "Come," pull. "On." He pulls again. "You can't stay locked in your room because you've made a mistake, Stella." He scolds, sitting next to my feet. I grunt in response. "I swear to all things LA, I will make Stevie do a house call." I moan louder, pulling a pillow over my head. The space next to me dips down, and Robbie throws an arm over me.

Whenever I'm in a lousy mood, Robbie's first response is forceful eviction of my room followed by snuggles. If either won't work, he calls Stevie. In our ten years of friendship, he's gotten to know me inside and out. He's my closest friend and my most relied-on confidant. He knows more about me than anyone else in the world. He knows the darkest places in my head and knows how to help me navigate them better than myself. He was the only one who was there during my entire marriage and divorce. Hell, he was my bro of honor.

I turn to lay on his chest, curling in to feel his warmth and wrapping my arms around him so tight I thought he'd turn purple. I never, ever, want to lose him. "I hate seeing you like this, Stell." He mumbles. "You're so hard on yourself. I know it's easy with Jared; you guys have a routine. He's easy, and Tom is hard. I understand why you did what you did." The sobs rip out of me in violent bursts. I hate how well he knows me some days, especially when he says things I know I need to hear.

He remains quiet as I sob, rubbing my head and holding me tight. He's the rock in my twisted life, and I'd be lost without him. Robbie makes me feel seen, heard, and appreciated even after my undesirable days.

When the sobs turn into small whimpers, Robbie continues, "I think you need to talk to Tom; he's genuinely worried for you. He's dropped by the studio to ask about you. God, you should have seen him, Stella. He's a fucking god. Don't even get me started on those eyes dude, they're so blue." I can't help but laugh at Robbie's fanboying. "They hold so many emotions I didn't know they could do that. He looked so worried and concerned. He really cares about you."

"I know he does." I manage. "I just don't want to bring him into this fucked up life I've created for myself. He deserves so much better." Robbie sits up quickly, grabbing my face to look at him. His eyebrows are pulled together, and his face is set in a stern look. His father look.

"You deserve better, Stella Thompson. You deserve a man like Tom. You deserve Jesus himself for all I care. You need someone who will treat you ten times better than Jared ever could. Someone who loves and cherishes you as you are, broken, sharp pieces and all." Robbie runs a thumb over the new tears leaking. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, Stella. You care so deeply about people that you let them continue to be in your life even after they've fucked you over a dozen times. Stella, you deserve to start over with someone like Tom."

I swear to God, the universe was listening to us because, as if divine intervention stepped in, my phone begins to buzz on the nightstand. Robbie reaches to hang up before going over the name again. "Here. Talk to him. I'll make you some food." With that, Robbie leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

With a grounding breath, I answer the phone with a meek hello. "Oh, thank heavens you're okay." Tom breaths out a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone. "I was beginning to worry. More. Worry more than I already was."

"I'm sorry I scared you," I mumble. "And I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long. It's been a really rough two weeks after everything happened, and I tend to shut down when things get hard." I admit, brushing my mangled hair out of my face.

"I understand, Love. We all have bad habits. I was worried I had pushed too hard, and you were ghosting me. I was actually going to call and tell you I would give you some space if you hadn't picked up. I can still give you space if that's what you'd like?"

"No," I answer quickly. "No, please. I really like having you in my life, and I love the way you make me feel. But I have to tell you that Jared spent the week with me. It doesn't mean anything. He's just..." I pause, trying to find the right words to make my asshole move sound less assholey.

"Easy. You're used to him. I understand that, Love." I take in a shaky breath. "I appreciate you telling me. Is there anything I can do to help with your rut?"

"Can you come over sometime today? I could kinda use a hug from you." Fucking crying making my defenses turn to mush. It always makes me a ball of emotions and fussy needs.

"I'd be delighted to. Would you like me to bring some lunch?"

"No, Robbie is here making me some. You called at the perfect time, actually. We were talking about you. Everything good, though. Nothing bad." I reiterate quickly. Tom chuckles on the other end.

"Well, I was just thinking about you and hoping you were at least alive."

"The heart's still ticking, so the body is alive," I joke. "Brain could use a jumpstart, though."

"I'll be over in about ten if that's alright with you?" I confirm with him and hang up. Pulling myself out of bed for the first time in fourteen days, I make my way to the kitchen.

Robbie stands over the stove, cursing and shaking his left hand. "Burned yourself again?" I ask. If you'd lose a year off your life every time you got burnt, Robbie would have died at age five.

"Fuck off." He mumbles, going back to the grilled cheese he's making. "How'd the call go? It seemed pretty short." I nod as I sit on a barstool.

"Fine, he's coming over in a few minutes." It hits me. Tom Hiddleston is coming over to my depression pit of a house after I've had two weeks of nonstop crying and zero hygiene. "Fuck, I need to shower." I curse, rushing to the bathroom. A quick shower will help everything. Hopefully.

Robbie pokes his head into the bathroom as I wrap my towel around me. "Tom's here. I'm going to keep him company while you get changed." He states before winking and shutting the door again. I don't feel like I have the energy to put on any form of makeup to cover up how deathly ill I look, nor the power to care what I look like besides the clean part. The shower did seem to wash away the residual guilt and shame I felt about everything. Though it didn't clean off everything.

After changing into some comfortable clothes, I make my way into the living room, where Robbie is watching Tom talk with nothing less than homosexual love in his face. "Robbie, out," I demand, catching both boys' attention. He leaves after a quick goodbye and non-discrete wink.

Tom walks over to meet me behind the couch, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're doing better," He mumbles into my hair. "I've been worried." We stand like that for a few minutes before my stomach growls loud enough for him to hear. "Here, Robbie left your food on the table." Tom leads me to the couch and sits next to me, our legs touching.

"Thank you for being so understanding, Tom. I know I'm pretty fucked, and I really appreciate you being understanding of it all." He smiles as I take a bite of the grilled cheese. Robbie should be made grilled cheese God the way it melts in my mouth.

"Of course, Love. We are all pretty fucked when we think about it. I haven't felt this way in quite some time. I know I can be a bit pushy, but I really enjoy your company," Tom says, sending those all-too-familiar shivers down my spine. "We can take things as slowly as you'd like. We can stay friends if that's what you need to heal as well." I shake my head while finishing a bite.

"I don't want just friends, Tom. You make me feel like a better version of me. Less dark and gloomy." The anxiety of actually communicating and talking about feelings causes my knee to bounce. Jared never let me talk so candidly, and I'm afraid I might overstep. "Can I be honest?" Tom nods quickly. "I have absolutely no idea how to communicate in a not toxic way.

"My whole life, it's been demonstrated that yelling and cursing is the only way to get across what I'm feeling. What I do know is that I like who I am when I'm around you, and I don't want that feeling to ever stop." Tom presses a kiss on my forehead.

"Then let us work it out together. I like who I am when I'm with you as well." The absolute zoo that took residence in my stomach could wipe out the entire human population. Tom motherfucking Hiddleston likes being with me. "Bloody hell, I fancy you, Stella."

Tom chuckles as I start to choke on my own breath. He reaches for the Caprisun set out and hands it to me. Tom likes me. He like likes me. Tom Hiddleston. Who would have guessed my damaged ass would land someone like him.

For years after my breakup with Jared, I thought all I deserved was heartbreak and pieces of shit men. Maybe I could really turn my life around here. Turn it into something wonderful and perfect. Something made just for me.

"I, uh, I fancy you too, Tom," I admit after controlling my breathing. His smile in this exact moment will stay with me forever. No ill-meaning behind it, wide and bright, and absolutely dazzling. Tom was as close to perfect as one man could get.

The kiss. The kiss that followed behind our confessions was just as magical, if not more magical, than the first. Only this time, there was no Jared to ruin it. It was just Tom, me, and the ugly off-white sofa I stole from Jared when I moved out.

How do you even end a chapter after that? Like, I impressed myself with that shit. We still own that couch too. It's where our little love story started, truly. I mean, no, we didn't go exclusive at that moment, but it's where it began.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #love #romance #fanfiction #fanfic #Original content #original character #oc #og #Chances #fiction

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idyllicstarker · 4 years

Text

So, me and @kimmykawaii got talking about a next or new chapter to my Starker Tattoo AU and of course I couldn’t hold back from writing this.

You can find part one here, with the original prompt.

I couldn’t quite figure out how I wanted this to go at first, and how I was going to adjust this with the original timeline. I eventually chose to begin it somewhere after their happy ending in part one. I’m letting you know here as I didn’t exactly make it clear.

Warnings: Slightly!fem Peter, foul language, smut, angst, cheating, daddy kink, explicit mentions of depression and antidepressants

The Café was nothing less than Peter’s refuge. Everywhere he went the whispers followed: “Is that Tony’s Stark’s boy?” He pretended not to hear but he always heard, no matter how quiet they thought they were being it always got back to him. And their words hurt.

Many claimed he was with Tony just for the money, a sugar baby of sorts, begging off Tony’s wealth and living a lavish life, but no one realised he was there before all of that. For two years he struggled with Tony as he ran his small tattoo business, when Stark Industries wasn’t even in the older male’s head let alone a far off dream. It was never going to happen. But then it did. Others added on theories such as that Peter left behind his family name for something bigger; Peter Stark, it had a nice ring to it after all but Peter wanted it because he loved Tony, not for the fame and fortune attached to it. No one ever stopped to consider that the two actually shared a genuine love - it was only ever money and status, two things Peter couldn’t care less about as long as Tony was in his arms.

If he really cared about having the most expensive brand of clothes, being chauffeured in the best cars and having an abundance of wealth lying around he never would have told his mother and father to shove their opinions up their ass as he left to go and make a life with the so-called ‘street rat’ that was Tony. He left that life because he didn’t need it, and he especially didn’t want it, not as much as he wanted to be with Tony. It was only pure luck that he ended up back in it. But this time it was more bearable, because not only was he sharing it with the man he loved, it was gained based off of pure hard work and determination not heritage. Granted, it was Tony’s business, not his, but at least he knew it was built with the right intentions and would be run under the right intentions - It made enjoying the luxuries of it all that easier. Besides, Tony wouldn’t ever let him believe that he didn’t deserve none of this stuff as it wasn’t Peter’s genius that built it, as to Tony, Peter had been the brightest light in his life. And if it wasn’t for him, SI would never have come about, Tony would still be working in the lousy tattoo shop, living for nothing but survival. How he managed to get Peter to fall in love with him, he never knew, but of course, he was grateful, confused but grateful.

And yet the whispers still carried in the wind. And despite how hard Peter tried not to listen they’d scratch at his skull and send static in his ears before he was having a breakdown in the middle of the street because two women couldn’t keep their mouth’s shut. Which is why Peter tried to avoid them. But being stuck in his house because he was afraid of words was not only undesirable but also impractical. He tried it for a week and went crazy after two days. He enjoyed going outside, and no, strolling over the grounds around the mansion didn’t help fulfill that. He liked seeing people, being involved in the busy city life, and just experiencing the raw nature of a society. He didn’t realise that Tony’s amazing achievement, would strip that all away from him.

He guessed, it was like the saying: ‘Old habits die hard’, it was something Peter was so used to that when his life changed, he couldn’t help but for it again.

But that’s where the Café became Peter’s newfound favourite place. He used to say that was in Tony’s bed but not even sex could compare to this cofee and cakes in this place. It was just around the corner from the tattoo shop, so back when life was a little harder but no less perfect, Peter found himself in there quite a lot. Although back then he couldn’t afford much, often just asking for a glass of tap water and sitting by the window as he observed the people, they were more on the elderly side as they didn’t really have much to do at this time of day but no less interesting. Sometimes you’d see a college student crammed into a table by the wall, tapping away at their laptop or hunched over textbooks for hours on end. And if you were really lucky, you’d get to see couples, all different people, mixed and matched so beautifully under cupid’s watchful eye. Peter never truly appreciated his moments of peaceful people watching until he stepped in there one of the days after they’d move far from their apartment.

It had been the first time Peter had left his home in months, too scared without Tony who had been way too busy for Peter to even explain his fear. But he didn’t blame him, not at all. He was so proud of Tony for all that he’d achieved. But as he stepped into that Café, with his new seasonal winter coat done up to his neck, and fluffy hat pulled over his ears, he was instantly greeted with smiles and questions of where he’d been from the baristas. He felt normal for the first time in a while. The only difference was, when they began to prepare his tap water he shook his head, ordering a gingerbread hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, and one of the cream pastries he’d been dying to try for the longest time. He was back almost everyday after that. It wasn’t that Peter was lonely, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t exactly attention starved either (because the breaking in of the new home sex had been amazing - Tony wasn’t stopping until they’d christened every room) but he just craved a sense of normality he couldn’t get anywhere else. Tony was busy, but he was never too busy to send Peter messages throughout the day to check up on him. Because as Tony struggled with his newfound workload, Peter struggled to settle into being rich… and he didn’t think he’d ever felt more selfish. But it was okay, because eventually he got used to it. But of course he never stopped visiting the Café because it was a big part of his life. Sometimes he’d go in simply to buy a coffee and a pastry for Bucky down at the tattoo shop and drop in and say hello. Sometimes, he’d go in to grab Tony a cake knowing the man loved them as much as Peter. But other days, he would stay, enjoying the peace and quiet and just basking in the warm buttery lights of Peter’s miniature heaven.

Like today.

Peter had tucked himself into the corner, knees up against his chest, feet teetering dangerously on the edge of his chair. His hot chocolate sat half drunk - and quickly turning cold - on the unsturdy table before him. He opted to sit away from the window, the cold draft too much for today (he half wondered as he sat down if bringing a blanket next time would be too much). His book was clutched in his hands, blueberry muffin crumbs down his shirt, looking ever the adorable mess that Tony would have loved to see. It was Peter in his natural element, uncaring of the people around him, or what he looked like, finding he had to do more of that these days.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, his chest seemed to rise and fall more rapidly as he got to a particualry erotic part in his book, before he was quickly snapped out of his aura by an unwelcomed interuption. It took a second to recognise the blonde that had sat himself down without so much as a care, on the opposite side of Peter’s table. But as he took in the well-built body, and the soft kind blue eyes, he realised there was no need to be afraid. “Steve”, he spoke softly, slowly closing his book and setting it on the table. He’d met Bucky’s boyfriends a couple of times, as he’d swung by the store, and took to the man well. He was nice, and charismatic, and Peter had become good friends with him, he just wasn’t in the mood with social interaction right now.

“Hey Pete, I won’t be here long I promise, I just saw you sitting here and I actually have something to give to you”, Steve said, rustling around in his backpack. Peter raised an eyebrow, but didn’t have to ask as already Steve was continuing. “Bucky said it was dropped round the shop this morning. A woman, saying it was urgent it got to you. It doesn’t seem dangerous, It’s just a letter after all, I was just on my way to drop it round, you saved me one less job.”

Sure enough, Steve had pulled a white envelope from his backpack and passed it to Peter. It didn’t have any address, it simply had Peter Stark scrawled on it in messy writing. Odd - they weren’t married, engaged, but not married.

“I gotta run kid, but I’ll see you sometime soon, tell Tones I said hi”, Peter’s confusion melted as he looked up at Steve and nodded.

“Will do, tell the Bucky the same!”

They shared a quick hug, before Steve was taking his to-go cup and retreating outside into the cold bitter air. Peter looked down at the letter, a soft breath falling from his parted lips. It was obvious it wasn’t something official, no bills, nothing like that; but that only made his curiosity more prominent. It could have been a fan of Tony, you had women and men like that, doing anything to try and grab his attention, but then why would it be addressed to Peter specifically? A death threat maybe?

He tried not to think about it, he wanted to wait to open it with Tony, so pushing the letter away he opened his book back up and began to continue. The main character began thrusting balls deep into his wife, vivid depictions of dirty talk on the page, and yet Peter could no longer concentrate. Not even minutes later, childish eagerness won and he was throwing his book down and reaching for the letter. Tearing it open he half expected to be met with a threat to his life or maybe a poem addressed to Tony, but as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, his eyes scanned not over a letter, but of a scrawl of two words only.

‘You’re welcome’

Peter’s body turned cold, slowly tilting the paper to check if anything was written on the back but there wasn’t, it was blank. He peered into the envelope, noticing nothing else but what looked to be a photograph taken on a security camera footage of sorts. It was grainy and dark, Peter had to remove it to see but he really wished he hadn’t when he did.

As soon as his gaze settled on the image, he couldn’t breathe. If he’d been standing his knees would surely have buckled.

Tony. His Tony. Laying down on a bed with a woman on top of him. It was taken from a height, so although he could only see the back of the woman, her long hair flowing down her naked body, he could see a perfect view of Tony’s face. It was clear it was Tony, he had his face mapped out in his head; and not like Peter needed it, but the tattoos on his arms were the exact same on HIS Tony’s body. The Tony in the picture had his head thrown back, his adam’s apple protruding from his throat, and Peter could practically hear the sounds. Not her’s, but his. The way his moans would get louder when he was close. His legs were strong, propped up, probably to help himself thrust upwards into her as she came down on his length. His hands were holding onto her sides, and even Peter could tell he was being careful not to hurt her. His heart ached at the sight. He knew what that was like which made it all the more vivid. He knew the way sex smealt with Tony, sweat and colonge mixed. He knew the passion, and the… and the love.

Peter let out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth as he dropped the picture onto the table. Everything hurt.

His vision blurred as tears began to fall but he knew if someone was to see him like this, it would be in the tabloids by tonight. So he furiously wiped at his eyes, but the image was burned into his fingertips. And even when he stopped, and his red blood-shot orbs opened, it’s all he could see in front of him. With a shaky breath he moved to gather his stuff, shoving his book into his satchel and gathering the letter and the photo. But as he moved to push it back into its envelope, he froze, his eyes catching onto a time stamp in the corner. It read the day before yesterday’s date, and 13:19 as the time. Sure enough, after checking his phone, it was two days prior, and sure enough Tony would have been ‘working hard’ in his ‘office’ at that time. Peter tried desperately to blink away the tears as he shoved everything carelessly away. And as he ran out of the Café, legs heavy with emotion and the need to be home, Peter swore, this is what it felt like to have your heart break.

Upon returning home (he’d practically ran) Peter threw his bag onto the floor and was curled up on the large bed within seconds. He cuddled one of their many pillows to his chest, crying into another until he had nothing left to leave his body but occasional, dry sobs as he closed his eyes, and the image appeared in his head. He’d cried until his eyes were swollen, his cheeks red and blotchy, and his head pounding. He needed water.

He stood slowly but his tired body still stumbled dizzily as he moved from the bedroom. He took staggered steps down the hallway, but was stopped by FRIDAY announcing that Tony Stark was entering. His stuffy nose and heavy head couldn’t take it and at the mere mention of his name, Peter cried out, falling to the ground on his knees and beginning to shake and sob, more tears, that he didn’t think possible, were running down his cheeks.

He didn’t register the familiar figure running towards him. He didn’t register the confused and worried shouts of “Baby? Peter Baby, What’s wrong?” He didn’t register the strong arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him to his chest. He didn’t register Tony carrying him to their bedroom and holding him in his lap, rocking him slowly and trying to soothe his cries as he ran his fingers through his hair, unaware of what Peter knew.

It was half an hour later before Tony would get any sort of response from Peter. Although he was laying against his chest, he didn’t seem to sink into Tony like he usually did. His sobs were reduced to hiccups and he was positive that this time he had nothing left to cry out. He needed water now more than ever but he wasn’t about to ask for it.

He tried to struggle from Tony’s lap but affirmative hands on his waist told him no without Tony even having to say it.

“What happened Peter?”, Tony’s voice was as soft and as caring as it always was and it made his stomach churn. Peter’s bottom lip trembled, he knew how much of a state he must look right now. His face stained with salt, lips chapped, eyes small and his hair every way possible because what even was gravity. “Peter?”, came the more urgent question. “I came home to you sobbing on the floor, you need to tell me what’s wrong my love-”

“Don’t call me that”, the first words to leave Peter’s mouth were pained. His dry throat couldn’t take it and they came out hoarse. But they were also full of emotion, pain and hurt and it was obvious in the way Peter’s breath hitched before he let it out slowly.

He noticed the confusion on Tony’s face and scoffed. “Don’t look like that! Don’t call me your love if I’m not”, Peter was slowly becoming more worked up. His pain and anger coming together and if he started ranting now he wouldn’t stop.

“What are you talking about hun, you know that you’re my love, you’re the only one I ever want!”

There was a beat of silence, in which Peter blinked before he laughed. It was a deeply pained laugh, one that needed no explanation of a joke because Peter wasn’t laughing because it was funny, he was laughing because everything felt so numb.

“Shut up! You Liar!”, he screamed, standing from Tony’s lap as he stumbled to the door wanting as much distance in between them as possible. Tony’ s eyes went wide, sitting up straight. He was clueless to where this was coming from, but he knew it was going to be hard to fix.

“You can’t love someone and then go and fuck someone else. You can’t love someone and leave them to walk home with their sex full with your cum and then come home to me and dump another load”

He ignored Tony’s protests of “I didn’t cheat, I haven’t”, simply choosing to speak louder over him.

“You disgust me Tony! So how many sluts have you fucked whilst you’ve been at work? I bet she wasn’t the first because you didn’t look guilty at all-”

“Look?”

“-No you looked like this was just normal to you. Making love to them and then coming home and fucking me in the ass acting like I’m you’re one and only-”

“I. Didn’t. CHEAT. Peter.”

“-Well maybe it wasn’t making love to them, but you were still doing something that you should only be doing for me, something that’s sacred, cherished and loving and you’ve just RUINED it-”

“Peter will you listen to me. I have never and will never cheat on you. I love you, and only you”

“-You don’t hurt the people you love Tony”, he screamed, chest rising and falling as he panted, trying to catch his breath. “But then I guess I always had this coming didn’t I? I was never going to be able to keep your attention for too long-”

“Peter no”

“-Especially now with all you’ve got. It would be hard to keep your hands off someone new-”

“I love you and only you”

“-But you don’t Tony because you wouldn’t have cheated if you did. And I don’t blame you. I’m too used for you now. Before I was just a virgin. That’s a kink isn’t it, deflowering a virgin. And then I just wasn’t tight enough for you anymore. My name has a check by it now, done and used. Because that’s all I am to you. A little whore that was fun for a while because that’s what people like you like. Tight little holes, to fuck into, and fuck up, until you’re ready for them to just be discarded. Inadequate for any kind of long term. But you act like like you love them for a while and when you get bored, you’re done with them-”

“You’re jumping to conclusions that aren’t even there Peter. Where did you hear this from huh? What article?”

Tony was confused by the words that just came out of Peter’s mouth. Confused and hurt at the accusations being placed against him. Of course it wasn’t like that at all, but Peter just didn’t want to listen.

The boy scoffed, marching over to his bag and taking out the envelope. “Not there Tony, huh? Then what’s this?”, he shouted.

“You cheating-”, he paused to catch his breath, “Lying-”, he threw the letter at him, “Piece of shit”, and finally he threw the photograph. “Dirty old man”, he screamed, stomping his foot to the floor (Tony was glad that they didn’t have neighbours out here), as Peter stomped his foot to the floor.

As Tony silently moved to take a look, Peter clutched the envelope to his chest. At his feet, a black memory stick fell as Peter leant down to pick it up. He swallowed tightly, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. He turned it around in his hand curiously. What was this going to be - a sex tape? With a shaky breath he took slow steps to the laptop but stopped at Tony’s voice.

“That’s not me Peter”, he said quietly, yet the excitement at proving himself innocent was clear. He was hurt by everything Peter had said, especially since Tony loved him more than anything but he understood his pain, it did look awfully like Tony.

“Why are lying when the evidence is right there”, Peter spat, causing Tony to shake his head and move closer.

“I’m not, baby, just look, please”, he didn’t touch him, he respected Peter’s boundaries and didn’t want to upset him more, but he stayed close. “Look, think about it. Whoever did this has some pretty good photoshop skills, and I’ll admit, the man looks like me. But It’s not me. They forgot one vital detail, and how you missed it is beyond me considering you had such a fuss about it”, Peter’s eyebrows furrowed and Tony smiled softly. “My side Peter, if this was taken two days ago, where’s our tattoo on my side. In the exact same place as yours. It’s not there baby, it’s not there”, Tony’s happiness rang through, he’d never felt so relieved.

Peter swallowed nervously, licking at his lips. Sure enough the tattoo wasn’t there, Tony was right, and Peter was stupid for missing it. He coughed slightly, his throat still hoarse and worse now from all the shouting. “The time stamp could have been altered”, he eventually said, turning the memory stick around between his fingers before finally clenching it in his fist. Slowly guilt was setting in for everything, he’d said.

“Maybe, but what need would anyone have to try and prove i'm cheating on you before i got that tattoo, no one knew who I was a year ago”, Tony said soothingly.

“One of my friends might, for all we know it could have been Bucky or Steve. They said a woman dropped it off, it could have just been them”, he said defensively.

Tony shook his head. “They wouldn’t have left it a year to try and tell you baby”, he justified, and honestly, Peter knew they wouldn’t.

“Baby, if I was going to leave you because you were used or some shit like that, I would never have proposed to you. I would never have spent months planning the perfect proposal and still manage to fuck it all up and end up clumsily getting down on one knee as we walked back from the ice cream shop at that night you couldn’t sleep.”

Peter giggled softly at the memory. It was true, he remembered it so clearly. Tony had planned the perfect proposal on their anniversary (which Peter did actually end up seeing as Tony wanted to do it properly), but the first time Peter got proposed to was far more adorable, and so much more like his Tony. It was an accident, three days prior to their anniversary. It was a humid night, and neither of them could sleep, and so Peter insisted that they go down to the midnight ice cream store. Of course Tony could never deny his baby of his desires, not anymore at least, and they walked hand in hand under the stars. It was on their way back, the sun just starting to rise, an orange glow falling over the city. Some were just waking up ready for the day to come, others were still tucked up under their covers. Tony and Peter, well they were ready to sleep for the day, never conventional to the rest of society. But as Peter giggled at something Tony he said, swinging their arms gently as they padded down their street, Tony let the sound fall to his heart. The angelic melody causing his smile to drop. He tugged on Peter’s hand, pulling him to a stop as the confused boy turned with a small smile. Tony moved in to kiss him, arms wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist. Sliding under the soft material of his shirt that was far too big on him because it was Tony’s. He still had the taste of cookie dough on his lips, and as Tony pulled away he didn’t think he'd ever felt so overwhelmed with love then in that moment. Everything was warm, soft and gentle, and he knew from now on he wanted this, nights like these. He wanted Peter, forever until the end. As he pulled away from his lips, he pressed their foreheads together, but kept his eyes closed. “Marry me?”, he had muttered quietly.

Peter’s eyes flew open, wide and surprised, but hopeful. “What?”

With a gentle laugh Tony pulled away, getting down on one knee and grabbing Peter’s hands gently. “Peter Parker, I love you with all of my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t have the ring on me right now, because I didn’t plan for it to happen this way. But I just.. I couldn’t hold back. Please Peter, will you marry me?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Peter’s answer was yes. Pulling Tony into a hug as they shared teary confessions of love. Peter really did remember the moment like it was yesterday. And Tony was right he guessed. He wouldn’t propose if he didn’t want to actually spend the rest of his life with him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at Tony as Peter shakily sat down on the edge of the bed. Tony closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow down. He didn’t think he’d ever felt true fear until these last few moments. He began to rip up both the note and photograph, before letting out a sigh. He threw them with a grunt and mumbling something about stupid lies. He turned back to Peter, he wasn’t even mad anymore, he just wanted the boy in his arms. He looked so sad, so vulnerable. He was in sweatpants and a large oversized hoodie, his tears were still stained on his cheeks and he just wasn’t a pretty sight. But to Tony, he was beautiful. “Can I have a hug now baby please?”, he begged. But Peter licked his lips, looking up at him with a hollow expression.

“I want to see what’s on the memory stick first”

Tony’s gaze flicked to the small black box, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t know what’s on it?”, he asked. As Peter shook his head, Tony licked at his lips. “It’s probably just more photoshopped images baby, they’ll only hurt you.”

But Peter clenched his jaw, standing from the bed and walking over to the laptop. “I’m looking at it”, he let out, a shaky breath falling from his lips as he bought it over to the bed. Sitting down, he set it down in front of him as Tony sighed and sat beside him.Taking a deep breath, Peter almost prayed this wouldn’t work, before plugging it into the laptop.

Shaky hands came down from where they’d been clutching at knees. Peter clearing his throat as he moved to open it up. He blinked seeing that it contained only a single video. There was no thumbnail, and the file was simply named ‘TONY’. Peter felt his love stiffen beside him. He watched Tony through the reflection in the screen, watched the way he shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. Already knowing he was about to discourage Peter from watching it, he clicked on it before he could get there. Tears filled his eyes before the video even began to play because he was so scared, so, so, scared-

The video played for a total of three seconds, Peter’s eyes ficking over the screen confused and pained, but not quite able to piece together what he was seeing. It played for three seconds, in which Tony dived forward and snapped the laptop closed. The grainy audio came to an abrupt stop, and silence fell over the room.

“What the fuck Tony?”, Peter questioned.

“It’s only going to hurt you Pete…”

“I didn’t even get to see it-”

“It will hurt you-”

“Tony open up the laptop”, Peter said carefully and steadily. He was still trying to keep calm., holding onto hope. Tony proved his innocence the first time. He said he didn’t cheat. “If you have nothing to hide, you’ll open up the laptop!”

Tony hesitated, but he knew if he didn’t there would be a whole different argument. And Peter would see it eventually with his determination. His hands had gone clammy, he almost seemed scared. But he opened up the laptop and pressed play.

Peter’s eyes settled on the screen, and as they did, as he watched and listened, his heart seized.`

It was undeniably Tony this time. There was no missing it. The camera person panned up, settling on Tony’s face, half way to orgasm, a face Peter saw often. His hands shook as he moved to turn the sound up, and the weight on the bed grew lighter as Tony stood, but Peter’s face never left the screen. Tony was there, straddling someone, a man, legs squatted, as he bounced himself on someone’s length. Peter’s eyes filled with tears as he heard Tony’s moans fill the room. His mouth forming curses, strained curses. Maybe if Peter could concentrate long enough he’d realise Tony looked so uncomfortable. So in pain, and so, so guilty, as if he was trying to hold back. But Peter couldn’t concentrate on anything except for that it was his Tony - letting someone make love to him, fuck him whatver, something he wouldn’t even let Peter do. A sob fell from his lips, his hands flying to his face to cover his mouth as the camera panned back down. The tattoos on his arms, check, the tattoo on his side… check. There was no doubt it was Tony and some other man. Peter’ eyes flickered over the screen, vision blurry from the tears but he couldn’t force himself to look away. Tony, real Tony, had begun to pace. Guily, he was guilty, and Peter knew it. Video Tony, well to Peter he looked like he was having the time of his life, letting out broken sobs of ecstasy. His hard, red aching cock lay on the man’s stomach, leaking from lack of attention. Why this was recorded, Peter would never know, but it was clear Tony wasn’t being forced. His eyes looked straight at the camera, but Peter couldn’t look into them. Tony’s movements were getting more frantic, the way they always did when he was chasing euphoria, grinding himself down, rocking back and forth as his moans grew louder. Mixing with that of whoever this man was. For a while, it was the only sound that filled the audio, the sounds of pure sex. But then, Peter’s heart broke as he heard them begin to speak.

“Who’s lying at home waiting for you Tony. Who’s waiting for his daddy who couldn’t give a damn as he fucks himself on my dick?”

There was a choked sob, and Tony answered, “Peter”, he muttered before he sunk himself one last time down, as he began to come, thick white spurts painting the man’s stomach.

Peter began to shake, and this time it was him who moved to slam the laptop shut, eyes trained on where the screen used to be, unable to move.

“Peter..”, Tony muttered, having stopped his pacing to stand at the foot of the bed.

Peter didn’t reply, he couldn’t. His lips were slightly parted in shock, eyes glazed over, body tense.

“Peter baby, you have to let me explain, please-”, Tony begged. He couldn’t come up with an excuse, he had to explain himself. But Peter was having none of it. With shaky legs he pushed himself up from the bed. He was completely silent, it was scary. He left the room, Tony trailing behind him like a puppy still begging Peter, but the younger male had completely toned him out. He moved over to storage, grabbing a suitcase, and carrying it back to their bedroom. The sight only made Tony more frantic, more emotional and desperate. He was the one crying now. Peter felt nothing.

He shoved whatever he could grab of his clothes into the suitcase. Anything he needed or was of value to him he shoved in too, all whilst ignoring Tony’s pleas. As he moved to zip up the case, his eyes caught on the flashy ring on his wedding finger finger. A shaky breath left his lips as he stood up straighter, closing his eyes. His bottom lip began to tremble as he sniffled.

Although Tony wasn’t proud of making his baby cry, he was glad in a way because Peter was finally showing some sort of emotion. Taking a cautious step closer Peter almost seemed to growl, blinking away the tears in his eyes. Tony held his arms up, as if in surrender. “Okay, okay, I won’t touch you”, he said softly, slowly lowering his hands.

Rather than make a move to take Peter into his arms, he took the suitcase off the bed, moving it from Peter’s reach. The boy didn’t even make an attempt to get it back. He didn’t want to leave.Instead he just stood there, still. His left hand cradled in his right, thumb brushing across the beautiful ring. “Only the best for the man I love”, Tony had said - but there could be no love, not after that.

“Tony you cheated on me”, Peter finally whimpered, his voice cracking as he collapsed on his knees. He was in Tony’s arms within seconds, the older man pulling him to his chest and holding him close. This time he didn’t fight it. He didn't fight because he was weak. Weak for Tony.

He was weak for Tony when Peter grabbed his face, to stop him from saying that he needed to listen and let him explain.

He was weak for Tony when he pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He was weak for Tony when he turned needy, climbing onto his lap and pushing their hips together. He knew he’d confused the man at the way he froze, but still he carried Peter to the bed, because who was he to deny his baby of his desires.

He was weak for Tony as they stripped their clothes, and moulded their bodies together so perfectly.

He was weak for Tony as he cried out softly as the man pushed inside of him.

He was weak for Tony as their bodies rocked together in an unspoken melody until they were both panting in each other's arms, until they fell asleep. Sweaty bodies entwined together, Tony still inside Peter, his juices flowing down his thighs and Peter’s sticky on Tony’s stomach.

Yes, Peter knew he was weak for Tony, but he wasn’t a weak man. He just needed to feel their connection, one last time.

When Tony woke up in the morning, he was alone. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, but the other side of the bed was completely cold. The bedroom door was cracked open a small amount, and his clothes still lay on the floor, where Peter had thrown them last night. The large house was silent, but that meant nothing. After all, if Peter was in the kitchen he wouldn’t hear him from here. He was praying to any god out there that Peter was in the kitchen. Please, please be in the kitchen-

As he ran from the room, tugging on only his underwear, his gaze caught on the corner of the room. Where he’d put the suitcase yesterday, it was no longer there. And where Peter had put the laptop on the dresser, it was, but the memory stick was gone. Tony let out a sob, running, screaming Peter’s name as he bolted it down the halls. He wasn’t in the living room, nor the kitchen. Tony ran desperately to each room, still frantically screaming the name of his love. He knew what he did and he wasn’t proud of it but all he needed was just five minutes, five minutes to explain. But as he ended back in the bedroom, no sight of Peter anywhere in the house, Tony collapsed on the floor. He was shaking, hands tugging and pulling at the skin on his chest because God why couldn’t he breath. Five minutes, that’s all he needed but Peter was gone, and Tony didn’t even know where. He was hitting at his chest as if willing his heart to restart. Tony wasn’t one to get anxious but he was sure that this is what it felt like. He understood Peter’s pain and emotion yesterday because Tony had never felt anything like this. It was as if his whole world had collapsed around him and his heart, well his heart had shattered, it’s remains spilling across the floor. He could feel it, he could feel it so vividly that he could almost see it.

“FRIDAY”, he called out, his voice barely above a whisper, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to take in as much air as he could but it wasn’t enough. His lungs were constricting and no matter how hard he tried to breathe normally he couldn’t. This had never happened before.

“FRIDAY, what time did Peter leave?”, he gasped out between wheezing pants. His head fell back against the wall with a dull thud, Tony’s body growing heavier.

“4am last night sir, he left you a message… sir would you like me to alert someone of your ill health?”

“No FRIDAY, I’m fine… what did Peter say?”

FRIDAY didn’t speak, instead in her place, a recording of Peter’s voice: “Just tell him that I love him, but I couldn’t stay with someone that doesn’t love me, that didn’t think I was enough. Tell him there’s no use in trying to find me because I won’t go back to him. He won’t find me anyway, and that’s a good thing…”,

The recording stopped, but Tony couldn’t take it. He doubled over letting

out the most anguished cry. His arms were wrapped around his chest. He wasn’t just sad, he was in genuine pain. His chest hurt as if he’d broken a rib. It hurt, it hurt so bad. He’d lost him, he’d lost his baby, his best friends, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but most importantly, he’d lost his soulmate.

The next few days passed by and honestly Tony didn’t remember any of them. Eventually, FRIDAY ended up alerting Rhodey (Tony’s best friend since they were young) about his state. It was a protocol Peter had himself set up, but before he left, he changed it, so that rather than alerting him of Tony being in a bad state, it was Rhodey. He knew that if he was told Tony was struggling he’d be back there within seconds. Because he cared for the man, more than anything, and despite the pain and hurt he was in, he still loved him. Tony was his first love, and as much as he hated to admit it, would probably be the only man he could ever truly love. But he refused to go back. He didn’t stand for false promises. And he didn’t stand for cheaters. Tony knew that, and yet still he went and did it. In Peter’s head, he guessed that just proved that Tony never really loved him.

Rhodey had ended up at their home - Tony’s home within fifteen minutes of the text alert. He charged to the bedroom, hearing Tony’s agonising cries the moment he stepped through the door. It didn’t take long to piece two and two together, Tony couldn’t breathe, and Peter was nowhere to be seen. It was hard trying to get him out of his panic attack, anf for a moment Rhodey thought he’d need to call a private doctor. But eventually Tony calmed down enough to stumble to the bed. He fell into it in seconds, shaking and letting out dry sobs because no more tears would fall. He ended up asleep, and when he awoke Rhodey was making soup in the kitchen.

For the next few days he left Pepper in charge of SI. Rhodey would come and go making sure Tony was still alive, feeding him, making him bathe and brush his teeth. But although Tony was alive, he didn’t feel it. He just felt like dead weight, like nothing mattered. And in a way it didn’t. Because a life without Peter was pointless.

After four days, he tried to get in contact with him. But everytime he rang, he was sent to Peter’s answerphone, and every text was left on delivered.

“Hi baby xx”

“I guess you’re ignoring me, I don’t blame you”

“I fucked up Peter”

“But you’ve gotta let me explain, please”

“Peter”

“Please reply, I can’t take this anymore”

“At least let me know you’re safe xx”

“Tell me where you are so I can at least sleep at night”

“Fine… I just hope wherever you are you’re happy xx”

“And safe, safe is important”

It became borderline obsessive, He was spamming Peter’s phone every hour with messages .Pleas and declarations of love just holding onto this small string of hope that Peter would read them and reply. When he went to bed he would text him goodnight, and when he woke up he’d always send him a good morning. Complete with hearts and kisses and smiley emojis.

It lasted for weeks. And each day that passed Tony would only work himself up more because where was he? Was he okay? That’s all he needed to know at this point. He’d never felt worry and fear so prominent before. Everyone he asked didn’t know where Peter was. And it wasn’t just a case of the, covering for the boy. No one had heard from Peter since the day he went missing. Not Bucky, nor Steve, not even his friends, MJ or Ned. He asked everyone he could and no one could give him an answer. It got to the point where Tony went to the police. But Peter was an adult, and since he’d left Tony, they weren’t surprised that they’d cut all contact with him. They weren’t going to file a missing person’s report. A lot of officers lost their job that day, and slowly Tony was losing his sanity. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Where to look or where to go. He felt so lost and everyday he just felt less and less.

When he started work back up again the only thing that got him through the day was alcohol. He couldn’t get the warmth from Peter’s love and happiness, and so he looked for it in his empty scotch glass. He wasn’t an alcoholic. The support system around him made sure of that. But he had become dependent. It made him feel alive. Something he desperately needed. Because he wasn’t living right now he was simply just existing. Without Peter he was nothing. Peter was his rock, his light, his happiness. The reason Tony would get out of bed on bad days, the reason he went into work smiling because Peter woke up him clinging to him like a koala and kissing every inch of his skin. On days when Tony wanted to give up Peter was right beside him, reminding him why he was doing this. Tony didn’t have that anymore so why should he even try. The only reason Tony ever felt real emotion was because Peter loved him. Without his love there was just nothing. They’d planned their family, their days of growing old together. Tony wanted nothing more than to have Peter with him when he took his last breath. They had begun planning their wedding. Spring time because everything’s “just so pretty” in spring time, as Peter had said. They hadn’t gone as far as planning their honeymoon but Peter had been so excited. It would be their first time out of New York together, and it would only start the beginning of so much more. Peter had been so excited. And now it would never come to be.

Tony knew deep down this was all his fault. He knew he messed up and he knew he lied. What he did wasn’t exactly better than cheating, but it was better then Peter thinking it was solely cheating. Tony wasn’t like that. He loved Peter and only Peter, no one else.

These bad thoughts consumed Tony. Ate away at him from the inside. They never stopped and everyday he lost a small part of the hope he had left.

It was Pepper that forced him to go to the doctor. “You’re throwing yourself into your work too much in order to try and fill the hole, but you’re only exhausting yourself”, she had said. Tony liked her because she was honest, but this time he hated her for that very honesty. The doctor made him see a therapist twice a week. He was put on antidepressants. They still didn’t make him feel anything, especially now that he couldn’t drink. But he told them that they did because he hated the attention. He just wanted Peter back. That’s the only thing that could help at this point.

It was exactly five months and three days since Peter had left. And it was on that fifth month and third day in which he returned.

Tony, having still been clutching at that last shred of hope, had completely overridden FRIDAY’s system, so that if Peter returned he couldn’t tell her not to notify Tony that he was there. In fact the moment he unlocked the door a text message was sent to Tony, and Peter never knew anything.

The older man had been in a meeting, a meeting he wasn’t happy to be in at all. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so like a naughty school boy, he slipped it out to take a look. For a moment his heart stopped, blinking, once, twice, three times to make sure that he’d read it right. When he’d established that it wasn’t his mind playing a horrible trick on him he was up out his seat in seconds. He took the elevator down, pushing past people mumbling apologises. He didn’t wait to explain leaving Pepper to deal with the angry businessman and making a mental note to deliver flowers to her office as an apology. But Peter, Peter was so much more important.

Poor Happy was driving at illegal speeds once Tony was inside the car. How they never got stopped by police, Tony didn’t know. They’d ran through four red lights and almost knocked a kid off his skateboard. The car hadn’t even fully stopped outside his- their home before he was opening the door and jumping out. He slammed through the door, panting as he came to a stop in their hallway. The house was quiet. He let out a shaky breath, was he too late? Was Peter already gone?

“FRIDAY?”, he whispered. His girl knew what he was asking, but Tony dreaded to hear the answer. “He’s in your bedroom, sir”, came the reply. Tony’s eyes flashed with emotion, the first time in five months in which Tony reacted positively to something.

His movements were slow, hesitant. He had one shot at this, he couldn’t mess it up. He moved his hands up to loosen his tie, he couldn’t breathe again. And he needed to be able to, one chance, that’s all he had.

Peter was standing peacefully in their bedroom. He was folding clothes neatly and placing them into a suitcase. Tiny came to a stop at the doorway, his eyes softening the moment he laid eyes on Peter, his Peter.

“You’ve lost weight”, why that was the first words from his mouth he didn’t know. He’d planned this better in his head but his plans never usually worked anyway.

The sudden voice scared Peter. He let out a yelp, swinging around to the door as he placed a hand over his chest. “You scared me!”, he breathed out, and Tony nodded his head slowly.

“I’m sorry”, he said simply. It seemed he wasn’t going to say much else until his statement was acknowledged.

Peter sighed, placing the jeans he’d just folded into the case. “Mom said I’d put on too much weight. That I was letting myself go by being with you. It’s funny isn’t it? They were never going to be pleased. You make a name for yourself and they still weren’t happy”, he laughed quietly. Tony didn’t.

“That’s where you’ve been, with your parents?”

Peter nodded in response.

“No one knew. I’ve been so worried Peter-”

“I don’t think I owe anything to you”, Peter cut him off sharply, His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, as he turned to grab some socks for the case.

“I still care about you Peter. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you bad it’s been. I’m not trying to play victim but… It’s been so hard without you. Not knowing where you were. It hurt so bad”

Peter sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. His legs felt weak. “I saw your pills when I went to go to the bathroom”, he said quietly. “And I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re the one that cheated on me Tony”, he reminded..

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Do we have to play the video again?”

Tony sighed. Pushing himself away from the doorframe He took heavy steps over to the boy and knelt down in front of him. Reaching out a hand he placed it over Peter’s. The boy didn’t flinch, nor try to move away, which Tony saw as a good thing.

“I love you. So much. Nothing has, or will ever change that. What you saw in the video was true. It was me. But I didn’t want to do it-”

Peter scoffed.

“-please just listen baby. Please. It was cheating yes, but it wasn’t my choice to make. I did it for you, for us. To be able to get that better life”, seeing Peter’s confusion, he carried on. “The video you saw was me and a man named Tanner Gage.He had close relations with my father. I never really told you how exactly I managed to build an industry from nothing. And I didn’t because it was only going to hurt you. Tanner wanted money, money that I didn’t have to offer him. He had all the plans prepared as the go ahead, but he wanted something from me. I didn’t have the money at the time. This was in between us getting the tattoos and me beginning to go out to meetings and whatnot. You remember don’t you?”, Peter nodded.

“When he found out I couldn’t give him the money straight away, he said he’d let me give it to him once we were back on our feet and making money from the business. On one condition. Why he wanted to have sex with me so bad, I don’t know. But I did it, because I wanted to be able to give you that better life. It was so close, I couldn’t not do it. And look, look around Peter. I got you a better life. It was once, one time that was it. And we still have everything I’ve ever wished for you and more. I’ve touched no one, spoke to no one, done anything with anyone else but you, apart from to give him what he wanted.”

Peter’s mouth was wide open in shock. Whatever he’d been expecting as Tony’s excuse, it wasn’t that. He didn’t know what to say. Tony could see the emotions running through his head, and gently he squeezed his hand.

“I get if you’re still mad and upset with me. I would be too, I just never wanted to tell you because it would only hurt you. It’s wromg, and it’s disguting and I’m guilty as fuck, but i can never regret it, because it got us to here”, Tony said softly.

Peter’s mouth was dry. For a while he opened and closed his lips, no sound coming at because he was still trying to process everything he was just told. Tony was always one step ahead, answering questions before Peter even got to ask them:

“I’m not lying Pete, I promise you, I know it’s absurd but I wouldn’t lie. Not when our relationship is at stake. His wife was the one that wrote the letter to you and dropped it off in the shop. We got fingerprints sampling from the envelope, and checked the cctv of the shop. We can get in contact with her so that you can ask her in person.”

“I don’t know why he recorded it, I guess he got some kind of kick out of it. I hated every minute of it and all I could think about was you. I cried the entire way home after. You remember that night, I know you do. You got upset because I didn’t kiss or touch when I came home. But I couldn't, I didn’t want my tainted touch on you until I’d showered. You just didn’t know it then..”

“Yeah I guess that’s basically prostitution. But, I don’t want to sue him or anything because I owe all of this to him.”

Eventually even Tiny ran out of things to say. His head was bowed, gaze low at Peter’s feet. Seconds later arms were wrapped around his neck, a small body clinging onto his. “Oh Tony- Tony- you should have just told me. I would have understood. I feel so bad now, you did nothing wrong. I love you so much and I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I’m sorry he made you do that, I’m sorry Tones, I’m so sorry. I came to get some more of my stuff I didn’t know you were going to break my heart and yet mend it at the same time!”

Tony began to shush him gently, holding him close and rubbing his back gently in small circles. “It's okay baby, It’s okay. It’s over now and I promise nothing like that will ever happen again”

Peter was sobbing quietly in his arms, and Tony’s own eyes filled with tears.

“I love you so much Peter, please don’t leave me”, he begged softly.

Peter shook his head. “I would never, not now that I know the truth. You’re my brave, strong, beautiful husband and I’d be damned if i let someone take that away from me!”

For the first time in a long time, Tony let out a laugh. There was still a lot they needed to talk about. He knew Peter was still hurt, and honestly he didn’t blame him. But this was a step in the right direction for sure. And Tony had never been more glad.

“Thank you”, he muttered hoarsely, and the reason behind it was unclear. There was a lot he was thanking Peter for. Too much in fact because he didn’t deserve his angel Peter, not at all.

But Peter simply shook his head, suitcase forgotten as he pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s head, and hugged onto him, a little bit tighter.

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

MLHolidays2k19 - 31. New Beginnings

Part 1 (18. Elves) Part 2 (19. Naughty or Nice) Part 3 (19. cont) Part 4 (22. Snowman)

The party was in full swing, and Marinette was unfortunately bored to tears, drifting idly around the outskirts. “Your boy’s not here yet?” Alya asked, a worried little crease appearing between her eyebrows.

“It’s only just now getting time to be expecting him,” Marinette told her, checking the time. “He had to work.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Alya pouted. “I want you to be having fun. Adrien’s supposed to be here soon, he had another commitment first…”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Marinette sighed. “I’ve had enough pity dances with Adrien to last me a lifetime.” She tried to smile. “Don’t worry, my date will get here soon, and I’m still having fun. It’s been great to catch up with everyone.”

“As long as you’re sure—” Alya began, but just then Nino popped up at Alya’s elbow, and as if on cue—and it probably was, since he was the DJ and certainly knew which cue to listen for—the music turned slow and romantic, a familiar song that made Marinette want to make a face. But she just smiled and teased Alya and Nino for a moment before leaving them to the dance floor.

She was making her way towards the buffet table when she heard a welcome voice call her name, carrying easily over the party noise.

“Luka!” Marinette turned with a bright smile, heart skipping as she whirled around. His easy smile widened as he looked at her. “You made it!” She grabbed his hands and squeezed.

“I said I would,” he chuckled, grinning down at her. “I’m glad you’re happy to see me.”

Marinette leaned in a little, wrinkling her nose. “Was the party as awful and stuffy as it looked when I passed?

He leaned in too. “Worse. I could hardly play, I felt so stifled. It was rough making it through that set knowing you were waiting for me. I have a feeling my night just got a whole lot better.” He straightened up. “You look amazing.”

“Oh,” she said, the warmth in his smile and his voice made her blush and look away. “Um, thank you.” She was dressed to dance, with her hair piled on top of her head, black skinny jeans with a sparkly halter top and a blazer that she had left draped over a chair somewhere. She pulled back a hand to tuck some loose hair behind her ear.

“Well, it sounds like I got here at a good time,” Luka began, but stopped at a call from across the floor.

“Hey Marinette!” Marinette froze, eyes wide, as Adrien bounced up at her elbow. “Hey, they’re playing our song, you want to dance? Just like old times?”

Marinette turned toward him, stomach churning, and plastered a pleasant look on her face. “O-oh, that’s sweet of you to remember, Adrien, but um—my date just got here, so I think I’m gonna stick with him if that’s okay.” She gestured weakly at Luka.

“Oh, sure,” Adrien flashed the smile he was famous for, and held his hand out to Luka. “Adrien Agreste. Marinette and I went to school together.”

“Luka Couffaine,” Luka said simply, shaking his offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Couffaine,” Adrien repeated, frowning slightly as he pulled his hand back. “Why do I know that name?”

“My sister, Juleka Lavillant-Couffaine, she models. She’s pretty well known in the industry.”

“Okay,” Adrien said, nodding. “That rings a bell, but I feel like I know you from something else.”

“I play in a couple of bands around town,” Luka suggested.

Adrien snapped his fingers. “That’s it, I think I’ve seen you play. In fact—weren’t you playing downstairs earlier tonight?” He rolled his eyes and said to Marinette. “Chloe’s party, you know, I had to go.”

“Of course,” Marinette said stiffly, faking a smile.

“Yeah, I did,” Luka said, with a smile that wasn’t anything less than friendly but lacking some of the warmth she’d seen earlier. “Glad to be out of there, honestly. Definitely not my kind of party. The company’s much better here,” he smiled at Marinette, and the warmth was back.

“That’s for sure,” Adrien agreed vehemently.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” Luka said, turning that friendly smile on him again, “I was just going to ask Marinette to dance?”

“Oh, right,” Adrien flashed his million dollar smile again. “Yeah, it was nice to meet you. I’ll catch you again later, Marinette,”

“Sure,” Marinette smiled, waving awkwardly.

“Old flame?” Luka asked quietly as Adrien retreated, and his voice held not jealousy, but sympathy and gentleness.

“More like unrequited crush,” Marinette said, feeling her smile wobble. “He’s always been kind of terrible at reading social situations, I’m sorry.”

“Long time?”

“Very,” she sighed. “Most of high school and then some. I’m over it, I’ve been over it for a long time, but it—I guess it still doesn’t feel good. It’s hard to talk to him, knowing how stupid I was and yet he never even noticed.”

“The body remembers,” Luka said knowingly. “No matter how over it you are, your palms still sweat and your knees still get weak out of—I don’t know, habit, I guess. I’ve been there.”

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Marinette said, both relieved and surprised that he understood. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, and I still hate it.”

“You want to leave?” Luka asked, resting a hand on her back. “We don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Alya would be upset…” Marinette whispered.

“Do you want to go?” he asked again gently.

Marinette struggled for a moment, and then sighed. “No. I want to to be better than this. I want to put it behind me.”

“Okay,” he said, his hand rubbing gently along her back. “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll take you home, no questions asked.” He smiled. “But if you want to put it behind you, let’s put it behind you. Will you dance with me?”

Marinette felt the fake pleasantness fall away, and a real smile broke through. “I’d love to.” She let him lead her to the dance floor, trying to focus on the happy flutter in her stomach and the warm way he smiled as he drew her close to him.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said, keeping his voice just loud enough for her to hear him over the music. “You always have, though. There hasn’t been a single time I’ve seen you that I haven’t been completely knocked over by how cute you are. And how kind. And smart. It blows my mind how smart you are, when you talk about your designs and the market and different influences.” He chuckled. “And you’re funny. You’re just really fun to be around, Marinette.”

Marinette’s face got a little bit hotter with every word, and she curled into herself, embarrassed by his praise.

“Too much?” Luka asked, and she shook her head. “Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, because that’s absolutely not my intention. I just want you to know how amazing you are. I don’t know the story with this guy, I can’t tell you what he was thinking. But I can tell you that whatever went down, it didn’t happen because there was anything wrong or undesirable about you. You’re an extraordinary woman, Marinette, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day we met.”

Marinette’s breath caught, and she hid her face in his shoulder. Luka shifted their stance fluidly, pulling her into him, bringing their hands against his chest, shielding her emotional moment with their closeness.

“Are you still okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I just...can we stay like this?”

“As long as you want. Just follow my lead and feel what you need to feel, okay? I’ve got you.”

They danced in silence for a while, and Marinette found herself appreciating the comfort of his embrace as well as the emotional space he gave her. Juleka was right, she realized. He was sweet with his family and genuine and compassionate with her and he was all those things Juleka said he was, and...and...he liked her. He’d really put himself out there just to make her feel better about herself, even though she’d rejected him once already.

Marinette smiled to herself when she realized that she wasn’t upset anymore. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She was comfortable and safe. And now it was her turn to take a chance and put herself out there.

Because, even if it was just the very beginning of a feeling...she really liked him too. She turned her head so her cheek was resting on his shoulder, instead of hiding her face.

“Luka?” she ventured.

“Hmm?”

She took a deep breath. “Will you kiss me at midnight?”

The smooth rhythm of their movement stuttered for a moment. “I’d really like to,” he admitted. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yeah,” she said, lifting her face to look at him with a smile. “I’m sure.” She put her head back down on him, because she couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. “I really like you, Luka,” she said shyly. “And...tonight’s a really good time for new beginnings, don’t you think? Leaving the past behind and moving on to other things. Better things. Because...that’s what I feel like when I’m with you. Like I’m standing at the beginning of something really good.” She bit her lip, practically held her breath while she waited for his reaction.

“Okay,” he said at last, a tremor in his voice. “But...do we have to wait that long? Midnight’s still like an hour and a half away.”

Marinette burst into giggles, and felt his deep chuckle along with her. She lifted her head and gave him a playful look. “I thought we were taking things slow this time,” she teased.

“Can’t blame a guy for asking when you’re saying such sweet things,” Luka teased back with a grin, but the way he looked at her, the softness in his eyes, made her melt. Marinette rose up on her toes and pressed a soft lingering kiss to his lips, She felt the vibration of his pleased hum in his chest before she pulled away.

The slow song ended, shifting into a pounding dance beat as she grinned up at the elated expression spreading over his features. “That’ll have to hold you for a while,” she told him, straightening his suit coat, “Because we have a lot of dancing to do.”

The smirk he gave her made her stomach flip pleasantly. “Well then, let’s dance.”

Before Marinette could reply, her arm was in an iron grip and Alya was hissing in her ear. “Girl, what the hell, you owe me details!” Marinette burst into giggles and shoved her away.

“Later,” she laughed, eyes sparkling at Luka. “I’m busy.”

Luka’s grin was wide and maybe even a little wicked as he beckoned her forward with one hand. It gave her shivers, but not in a scary way.

“Why do I suddenly have a feeling you’re a really good dancer,” Marinette said, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I said you were a smart lady,” Luka smirked.

“Well, I probably should warn you that I’m not a very good dancer,” she told him, putting her hand in his and letting him tangle their fingers together.

“Hmm, I bet we can work on that,” he chuckled. “You have good rhythm, that’s the most important thing.” He grinned. “You could stand to loosen up a little though.”

Marinette was skeptical but it turned out that not only was Luka a good teacher, but his smooth voice in her ear, singing along with the lyrics when he wasn’t giving her instructions, and his guiding hands on her body made her feel all wobbly, which was a sufficient substitute for loosening up. He did have to catch her once in the beginning when she got her feet tangled up together, but they both just laughed as he righted her.

After that he must have been watching her closely because Luka always seemed to know when she was getting unsteady, and give her just the right tug or push to keep her from overbalancing and toppling over. He wasn’t the least bit inappropriate, but his light touch on the inside of her wrists as he encouraged her to put her hands up, the way he slid his fingers down to her elbows as she obeyed before letting go, even the way his hands framed her body without touching her before settling back on her hips, felt fraught with potential. Feeling daring, she set her body rolling in a wave motion, the only dance move she felt reasonably confident with on her own.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Luka all but purred in her ear. “How do you have that kind of control over your core and not your arms and legs?”

“I wish I knew,” she admitted. “I’m just a natural klutz.”

“Well, we can work with that, now I know you’ve got it.” Luka chuckled. “Try this one…”

It took a few songs, but finally she got to where she was dancing instead of just following Luka’s instructions.

“Yeah, go for it Marinette!” Alya whooped as she twirled by, arms over her head and hips swiveling in a way Marinette could never hope to emulate. “Damn, girl, when did you get moves?”

“Just now,” Marinette laughed, turning to face her. She put hands on top of Luka’s at her waist and leaning back into his chest. “Luka’s a good teacher.”

“It’s funny how many things get easier when you have the right partner,” Luka’s velvet voice chuckled by her ear. “You want to try a dip?”

She glanced over her shoulder “Will you catch me if I fall?”

“Always,” he promised, and she shivered a little. “Okay, get the beat, arch your back just a little bit, get your hips moving...and down, two three, up two three, nice!”

She did dance with Adrien eventually, and Luka relinquished her with a wink and a smile and a promise he’d be waiting with drinks when she was done.

“You look really happy,” Adrien said, as he waltzed her around the floor. She caught sight of Luka past his shoulder; their eyes met and her head turned automatically as Adrien swept her past before she brought her gaze back to Adrien with a slightly embarrassed smile. “You like him a lot, huh?” Adrien chuckled.

“It’s early days,” Marinette smiled. “But I’m excited about it.”

“I’m happy for you, Marinette,” Adrien said, she tried not to look for anything wistful or regretful in his smile. He’d made his choice a long time ago. She had no interest in treading old ground again. Not with the promise of something new, something warm and exciting and beautiful just waiting for her. Some part of her would love to know that Adrien regretted her, but it wasn’t a part she tried to encourage.

“Is this the first time you’ve seen Nino since you got back?” she asked brightly.

“Uh, yeah,” Adrien said, and they were back in safe conversational territory.

When the dance was over, she went back to Luka with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and no regrets.

He had drinks and a plate ready as promised, and they found one of the tables on the outskirts that was empty. “Are you having a good time?” Luka asked, pushing the plate over where she could get to it.

“I really am,” Marinette beamed. “Thank you. I’ve always been kind of the third wheel at these parties, so it’s nice to have someone to hang out with.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Luka said, leaning towards her. He’d long since ditched his coat with her blazer, and he had the sleeves of his button down rolled up above his elbows.

“Well, it’s true,” Marinette said a little shortly, drinking her water.

Luka touched her elbow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

Marinette mustered a smile for him. “It’s okay.”

“Do I need to tell you again how great you are?” Luka smiled. “Because I can do that as many times as you need to hear it.”

Marinette looked down at her hands wrapped around her water. “Maybe you could just hold me again?”

“Gladly.” He slid his chair closer and put his arm around Marinette’s shoulders. She snuggled into him with a sigh. “You know we can still leave if you want to.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Marinette said, laying her head on his shoulder with her nose against his neck. “I just want to rest for a minute.”

She felt Luka swallow before he answered, “Then rest.” His hand squeezed her shoulder and then rubbed lightly. Marinette closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

She jumped less than a minute later, nearly knocking her head into Luka’s jaw, when Alya dropped into the chair next to her. “You’re not pooping out already, are you?” she demanded. “It’s not even midnight yet.”

Marinette groaned, “Alya, I was comfy.”

“Me too,” Luka muttered.

“Come on, Mari, live a little! If you’re not going to dance—”

“I did dance!”

“—then go make out in the bathroom like a normal person!” She took a drink and then grimaced, waving somewhere behind them. “Or you know, in the middle of everyone, like Kim.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink Alya,” Marinette sighed, reaching for Alya’s glass. “You’re being pushy and obnoxious.”

“Say the word,” Luka murmured, squeezing her arm.

“Yeah, I think it’s time to go home,” Marinette said, standing up. “Please.”

“Aw, Marinette, I didn’t mean to—” Alya whined, reaching across the table for Marinette’s hand and ending up just kind of in a heap across the tabletop.

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, patting her head. “It’s tradition for you to start out the New Year begging my forgiveness anyway.” She bent down and kissed her friend on the cheek. “Good night, Alya. Thanks for the party.”

She turned to Luka, and they retrieved their coats. “I have to apologize now for my van,” Luka said as they waited for the elevator. “It’s more for convenience than style or comfort.”

“That’s okay,” Marinette sighed. “Beats the metro in dress shoes.”

Luka cleared his throat. “So, next question. Where do you want to go? It’s not quite midnight yet…”

“I have a balcony,” Marinette mused. “We should be able to see the Champs-Elysees fireworks from the doors, even if it’s too cold to go outside.”

“Sounds good to me,” Luka said, opening the van door for her. “I’ll need directions.”

Marinette’s apartment wasn’t too far, and they made it in good time. She pulled up a countdown on her phone, and they stood leaning against the back of the sofa as they waited.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind,” Luka sang softly, “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, for auld lang syne.” He stopped abruptly. “Sorry. Habit.”

“No, keep going,” Marinette nudged him. “It was nice.”

Luka took a breath, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in front of him. She leaned back against him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as he sang. “For old lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.” They both swayed slightly as he sang in the quiet of her apartment, staring out at the city.

Marinette’s phone beeped. “Almost time,” she said, holding it up where they could see the numbers tick down.

Luka nuzzled her temple, murmured against her skin, “Do you still want that kiss?”

Marinette smiled. “I do. Do you still want to give it to me?”

“More and more every moment.”

Marinette turned in his arms to face him, still holding the countdown clock where they could both see it. “Five,” she murmured. “Four...three...two—”

He moved maybe a bit too early, but Marinette didn’t care, meeting him with enthusiasm to match his eagerness, dropping her phone over the back of the sofa with a thump so she could bury her fingers in his hair. She rose up on her toes to press more firmly into him as beyond Marinette’s window, fireworks streaked into the air and erupted into showers of color. For a long moment she knew nothing but his mouth and his hands and his broad shoulders under her arm and the soft hair under her fingers.

By the time they parted, the fireworks were nearly over. They both looked up just in time for the final burst.

“Happy New Year, Marinette,” Luka whispered, running a hand lightly down her back. “I have to say, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Me too,” Marinette couldn’t contain her smile. “But whatever happens...I’m really glad I met you, Luka.”

He kissed her again, and this time, not charged with the thrill of dancing and the tension of waiting, it was soft, and gentle, and slow and very, very thorough.

All in all, Marinette thought it was a pretty good beginning.

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

#mlholidays2k19 #quickspins #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #promptfic

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deviationdivine · 5 years

Text

Be The One Destroyed (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: When your ex makes an unexpected appearance Nines decides to show you what you really mean to him...

Word Count: 4.4k

TW: Fluff to Smut, Language, Mentions of Abuse

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Ice King? More like spice king.” - @tropfenlady request! Here we go baby! Thanks for putting in your prompt request! Could it be fluffy/protective Nines? It just might be!

I'll never see what you wanted, love

RK900′s protocols are state of the art. He analyzes data at utmost accuracy. Sampling DNA at crime scenes are much more proficient than this burning sensation he feels. Deep in his artificial gut a fire spreads. This inferno is agitating. Furthermore it melts a perpetually stoic facade into heated anger. Showing emotions is not part of his repertoire. Deviancy is a means of feeling. He does so. Others do not need to see it for their pleasure however.

Curiosity is an abomination of this human race. While adept at integration just as his predecessor it hardly means he wishes to “chit-chat” with these fools.

Does it stop his interest in you? An officer who works quiet but diligent filing piles of paperwork. At first he assumed you were simply another typical leech such as Gavin Reed. Most do not seem to take proper consideration of time management. It would seem they are not actually working as detectives in a precinct.

Nines’ attitude does not make easy conversation. Yet that did not stop you conversing with him. The first time he imagined you somehow mistook him for Connor despite several glaring clues to the contrary. To say this stern android was taken aback at your genuine interest to converse with him is - frankly undesirable.

Or so he thought – until he spies you one afternoon in presence of another man during a lunch break. Enjoying such at a cafe located several blocks from DPD, Nines similarly found himself in the area following a locally reported incident. He took notice easily through shop window.

Something stilled him where he would otherwise continue without distraction. Witnessing your downcast exterior, lips drooped and not that insufferable smile he replays to memory. There is an odd atmosphere surrounding your company. Unwanted company from body language and RK900 is equipped with all the latest technologies. Reading humans is part of his programming but you-you are…different.

The android also does not like another male around you. He sneered, entering shop without a care. Eyes glued to him instantly. A tall imposing figure standing out in white stepping foot in an all human establishment will create a circus for them. He scoffed before deciding to interrupt your ‘date.’

You were the one rising from seat. Not giving him a chance to come over but practically hurrying to reach him.

Nines’ indicator became a glow of amber. Deciphering your actions only seemed to be more difficult. It makes him uncomfortable. Is that the correct word for this strange feeling cast inside his gut?

“Nines!” You smile automatically washing away whatever anxiety is left in your body. Seeing him spurs life into you, warm and safe.

“Detective,” he greets curtly. “You are needed back at the station.”

Blatantly the android lies. He glowers at the back of the man who does not turn around. Merely sitting with hunched shoulders but presumably listening. His death glare snaps away from your unknown companion under a snag of your hand. Fingers dance at the cuff of his sleeve. Warm digits brush atop synthetic skin as you pull him back outside. The event comes to haunt his system. There is something uneasy surrounding you but it is not due to him.

He casts a look back into cafe. Seemingly aware of the culprit it may not be as he suspected after all. “Is there something you require?”

“Is that how you’re always going to talk to me?” Poking at his chest under that emblazoned RK900, you can’t help grinning up at him. His face holds this permanent resting bitch face. You’d like to kiss it right into submission if you’re being honest. Still, android Darcy is at his finest playing hard to get in genial conversation.

Nines’ eyes shift down. Fingers catch in his before pulling away and he feels how stiff you freeze. Your eyes float up to his and he gently allows freedom to your soft hand.

Clearing your throat isn’t cutting it. What was that? Can’t tell if he was annoyed that you poked him or-?

“You’re not very sociable are you, Nines?”

The playful tone suggests you are teasing. Perhaps flirting would be an appropriate alternative. A tiny smirk curls lips but he forces them to a line just as quickly.

“I am programmed for sociability if it is required of me,” he bites back. “Perhaps you would prefer Connor’s demeanor for idle conversation.” Part of his statement is a test to see if you hold interest outside this vexing meeting inside cafe.

Is that jealousy? Please. Please, let your ice king be jealous. That’d be so good. “Um, don’t get me wrong. I love Connor. He’s just a cute bunny. One that can rip my head off but… So could you. Probably worse. But I prefer your company - Ice King.’

Letting it roll off your tongue for the first time leaves no shame. You hope it riles him just a little bit.

While the android does not show his hand it does exactly what you wish. He believed this is the moment he gives you proper permission to approach him more. While he does not elaborate or confess any strange sensation building up in him, Nines unfortunately does not realize what you need from this cordial relationship.

“Perhaps if you paid proper attention none of this would have happened!” Invoking frustrations to the end results of this case leaves Nines in a state of fury. A simple apprehension would have been by the book and most assuredly productive. If it were not for your senseless distractions!

“Shoot me for having a bad day once in my life!” Shouting back in his face only amplifies stress. You feel it piling on some days. This-this is not helping!

Why does he have to be the one to say it’s a fuck up? Why can’t someone else do it? Why not Connor for once?! Just let the very android that you’re growing so goddamn attached to be the one to crush you in his bare hands.

Those hands could do unspeakable things. Oh, how sure you are. Too bad fantasizing at work doesn’t get you past this friendship. Is it even that? Sometimes you wonder why you bother!

“Suffering what you refer to as a ‘bad day’ is not an excuse!”

You seize to the spot. Having to listen to this is too much. “You know what Nines!?”

“Pray do tell!” He snarls. Leaning closer, eyes sweeping over you as if prey ready to be caught on a live hook.

Something stirs in your stomach that hasn’t taken over in a while. It’s not good. It just makes you feel sick. You shrink back from him. All too aware that your flighty reaction will only make you look worse.

“Never mind,” you whisper quietly. Anger dissipates too quickly not to cause a swirl in his indicator. He is scanning isn’t he? As if you asked for that or-or him to latch on.

Is he truly attached? No. You continue to work frustrated with how easy it is to fall. When his attitude is hardly pleasant most times with others around why do you continuously go for the asshole type? Depends which type but-but maybe it isn’t fair to compare. Honestly there is nothing at all to compare. He wouldn’t…

The android snaps straight at your abrupt departure. His gaze glues to you until there is no more hesitation.

Something drives this advanced android to follow. Unaware of how much this will change things. Perhaps unaware of how much is to change. No. He does know. The RK900 wants you.

Slamming locker door only rings in ears causing your pounding headache to worsen. Banging your hand into the metal surface won’t cure it but it will make you feel better. Just beat something in since that was such a great way for that motherfucker to do when he-

A sob chokes. Coming fast along with your slide down to bench you land in a huff. Isn’t it enough that work gets to you sometimes? Added personal drama doesn’t help nerves and insecurities.

God. You were so over this. Just because that son of a bitch starts popping up again. He blew the city a long time ago while you were still a weak wisp compared to now. You work at the damn DPD. If you wanted to you could punch that bastard in the throat and he wouldn’t be able to take you down. Not like he used to knock you down…

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps up. Realizing your current state is on full display to the last person you want to see you fall. What is he doing? Did he need to add more to a list of offenses you perpetrated today? According to him the list must be a mile long.

“I heard you already, Nines. I don’t want…”

“I am sorry,” the android interrupts firmly. Can you stop speaking for one minute?! “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

Wanted to hear because what? He doesn’t mean it?

You get up. Finding inner strength is easy. “Oh, that’s funny. I thought you actually wanted to come down here and apologize. Not tell me what I want to hear as if I’m some…!”

Nines’ fingers snag around your wrist. Pulling you slowly to him, he narrows steely ice searching for a true answer now. “Why were you crying?”

Zero hostility floods his voice. He genuinely wants to know. Why tell anyone? Why not tell anyone? At least tell the android…man…that you’ve fallen in love with.

“Do you remember the cafe that one day?”

An unnecessary question, he finds, for a prototype who stores information. However, he nods without adding more words that may upset you further.

“That man at my table,” you explain disgusted. “Who I didn’t want to sit down? My ex.”

Ex? As in ex partner. RK900′s lip twitches nearly curling a sneer.

“Just kind of popped back around. Another reason why I wasn’t exactly focused today.” Where does this bastard get the gall anyway? As if you’re that stupid? Anybody who goes back to that type of situation is just beyond getting out. “I just - want to not have to see that scumbag. After what he…”

Nines does not have need for an elaboration. Flinching away from him previously offers insight into residual trauma. It would appear this so-called ex laid hands upon you at one time.

“Y/N,” his voice softens. Uncharacteristically he allows the facade to fall entirely for you. “I would never harm you.”

Tears run freely in a river of personal woes. Problems should be hidden in some capacity while working. Have a bit more self respect for yourself why don’t you? You find a small laugh suits.

Fingers brushing streaks off your cheek is unexpected but not unwanted. For a haughty one he sure makes your heart thud.

“OK.” Trusting him is easy because he’s different. Even if he is a smug hardass, Nines is something special. “Ice King.”

The RK900′s brow creases sharply at such an endearment. He scoffs. How strange and beautiful you are.

I was the one that you needed, love

Snowflakes never looked prettier dotting his head of rich dark hair. Resembling dollops of whip cream atop steamy cocoa it sure touched your sweet tooth. Craving his lips is nothing new. They do know how to zap breath right out from your lungs. Lately you’ve been really craving him and not just those spicy make outs.

Maybe it’s time to take this to another level? Dating Nines is definitely a roller coaster, a safe one that won’t derail any moment. Doesn’t mean it’s dull by any stretch.

Who would’ve thought you’d wind up falling for a chiseled, pompous prince? He meets all those standards and more.

Grabbing his hand is perfect since he clearly hates PDA. In this frigid atmosphere he does not disentangle. He heats up those systems just a bit. His fingers are warmer now against your chilled digits. Mister advancement likes showing off subtlety.

“Is this necessary?” he huffs impatiently.

“Don’t tell me my big, strong android is afraid of a little snow.” Teasing relentlessly produces such a smolder. Nines can ravage you with his eyes alone. They are so beautiful. Silver chimes tinkle goose bumps all over your body. “You’re not going to melt, Nines. Unless you suddenly became the wicked witch of-”

The android halts you. Sweeping an arm around your waist drags you to him. For this moment he will forget the derision he holds for public display. The more you move your mouth the more Nines wants to devour the curve of lips.

Breath hitches divinely and his eyes are fire. “Ice King? More like spice king.”

Leaning up on toes settles you directly against his warmth. His lips melt softer than snow. Into yours, savoring and teasing with teeth as he nips your bottom lip for access. Willingly parting lips for his tongue sends you somewhere distant.

For being against PDA he certainly is holding snug to you middle of snowfall. Dotting atop your figures, creating a frosty cocoon and this is the warmest you will ever be.

“Y/N?!”

Breaking the kiss prematurely wipes away this cozy moment. Dropping down on level after leaning to exceptionally tall boyfriend attention falls to one witness that inherently makes your blood run cold. You shift towards Nines instinctual and also a means to prevent something happening.

You already know this is not going to go well. The tension in Nines’ arm is clear beneath your fingers. Still you squeeze in hopes he will not kill someone.

“It is you.” Your ex laughs a bit before nodding at the android. “Who’s this guy?”

“Who do you presume I am?” The RK900 detaches from you with a snarl on his breath.

“Wait, a minute. You’re an android?” Squinting at the LED glowing in the snow your ex couldn’t help laughing. It was particularly gut busting. “Are you fucking kidding? You’re with a goddamn android? Wow. How low can you go? I mean, I always knew you were a hard up, worthless…”

Before another word drops from his breath Nines has him slammed into the nearest chain link fence. It comes so swift there is no reaction time.

“Nines!” You move quickly over snow. Trying not to slide on any unsuspecting ice this is just great!

“I will gladly rip the tongue from your throat!” The android growls ferociously.

“Let go. Nines, just don’t. It’s not worth it!” Is he even listening? No! He’s not listening! As much as you hate this piece of shit you don’t want anybody to have their limbs ripped out of sockets. There is no doubt Nines could do it effortlessly. “Nines…please!”

Drawing his gaze to you relinquishes the flood of rage in his system. Stress levels are higher than normal. For you he will do anything and if you do not wish him to pulverize this leech so be it.

“If I ever see you near Y/N again,” the android twists his collar threateningly. “I will destroy you. Do I make myself clear? You pathetic worm?”

“Y-yeah! I-I won’t bother Y/N. I won’t!”

Nines wrenches him clear of fence. Boosting him along makes the human stumble but he continues a speedy exit. “Shall I escort you home now, My Flower?”

You shake your head. He’s not going to say a word about what just happened? “I swear to God, Nines!”

I was the one when you needed love

Throwing a coat down doesn’t stop your nerves. Everything’s haywire when things were just fine. Of course it goes south. What else did you expect?

“You should not have stopped me from squashing that pathetic insect.”

Just what you want to do is argue, right? Twisting around, you watch him drape long black coat and pull sleeves up forearms. The black sweater is snug definitely warm to look at. Eyeing his arms through material does offer a pleasing sight.

Let it be known you are attracted to strong forearms. Make that strong everything. Never would’ve guessed while dating that scum years ago. “It wasn’t worth doing. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be a detective? We both are.”

Incessantly stubborn you are for a morsel he desires on his artificial tongue. He says nothing. Moving towards you is all the words he will speak.

A shiver runs teasingly down spine. Nines’ wolfish gleam makes you weak in the knees. Already he is there sweeping you against his hard body. You have nothing to protest just succumb.

Lips on lips, hands clawing, pinching; his teeth nibble your earlobe sending a wave straight between legs.

“I want you,” he hisses into the grind of your hips. “I will show you how precious you are.”

“Nines,” a whimper crawls up throat.

He too crawls, slithers cool fingers between your legs. Swiping delicately, his eyes train upon your face. Watching eyelids droop for him in surrender and he pushes your knees apart.

All that DNA sampling you witnessed him do never prepares you for how smooth his tongue actually is. Running up your slick trembles sweetly through your body. Your hips rock on this wave. Reaching to pull at the hem of your shirt to get it off while your android boyfriend goes down on you so passionately it’s about to get interesting.

“Oh. Oh! Nines!”

His head lifts at the frantic grab of his hair. He removes his fingers from their deep stroke. “Do you want me to stop yet, Little Bite?”

“No. I want you to come up here.” Reaching down for him nothing stops his slink up your figure to oblige. He pauses before making any move to kiss. You watch him shift to unbuckle dark jeans and completely shed himself of any remaining garments. Biting your lip is the only thing you can think to do when appraising him.

Cyberlife designers must be perverts because he’s delicious.

You laugh when he grabs onto your hips. Cupping his face drags him into you for a sweet kiss. There is still the essence of you inside hot mouth. You moan past his lips, shifting legs to give him access.

His thick waist welcomes the squeeze of your thighs. Welcoming him in return, wanting his torso between legs for all eternity. You come undone, naturally accepting him sinking up to the hilt in all of his thick glory.

Your head falls back.

The android lies heavily against your heat. Creak of the mattress beneath your supine form a soundtrack stuck in his audio processors. A naturally human aura to find in a bed with you sprawled, naked and unafraid of his android exterior. Instead you plead for him and Nines aims to deliver.

“Please,” begging him to move is futile. Peering up into his eyes they are silvery wisps, morphing a glacial hideaway for a mere mortal loved by power itself. Swiping hands along his hips you can’t help but tease that modeled perfection. Even his ass is a sculpted wonder.

Digging fingers there into the flesh finally gets his hips moving. You sigh. Wrapped up in how good he feels shuts thoughts off to the world.

Those hands are to die for. Clutching in sweeps and drawing you further down to deepen this tantalizing connection. Nines curls fingers beneath your thigh. Forcing your leg up props the limb against his shoulder opening you up further for his pleasurable snap.

Your lips part breathless. The more he fucks into you the more you lose whatever worries plague the heart. This is more than that. This is all you want.

“N-Nines, please.”

“I want to hear you say it.” The android groans delectably within your clenching walls.

“I-I’m going to…”

“Not yet,” he hisses, snapping his body.

A sculpted piece he hovers serene in his shivering euphoria. Experiencing this rush through his system overheats but coolant releases itself automatically to stifle this burn. His advancement allows for many things.

Tonight he will simply show you what these inane emotions have done to him. They are as real as this deviancy but never more true than you are.

Protesting any upcoming ideas is farthest from mind. Questioning your android lover might not end well for this night. Depending on how one from an outside perspective views this relationship. They may think so. Not you, never you because an unwell end means the most satisfying, spirit rendering fuck you will ever receive. In your life he makes you like a cloud floating on horizons distant, euphoric in cosmic heavens.

Gladly your body responds as he grips onto your hips. Hoisting up from where you lie on back, your arms drop around his neck. His eyes lock onto yours glimmering.

“Oh,” you huff against his lips. “God, Nines.”

He moves with your body attached to his. Carrying you center of bed as his knees sink into mattress under weight of a muscled plastic frame; he is alive, precious to your heart. Bringing you down atop his lap now rests your bodies in a comfortable entanglement. Wrapping legs around adjusts you better onto his hard body. Despite that inner shell his synthetic skin is creamy.

Caressing him with lips is a dream become reality. Often imagining what he might taste like. Kissing the broad curve of his shoulder doesn’t disappoint. There is something too natural about androids. Honestly it gets things going even more.

His hips move up into you as he groans sharply into your collar. Such a beautiful sound rumbles deep from that chest you dig nails to. Swirling a thumb to circle the android’s nipple heightens his growl. The sound gets you off better. Knowing he feels everything just as you do. This is beautiful. He is a beautiful being and you rock hips to swallow him whole.

The android grazes teeth along your flesh. Nibbling at your skin he takes time to flick tongue over each mark he imprints. Causing your moans to heighten, his fingers dig into your hips hard and possessive.

“Mmm. Yes. Nines, you’re so good to me.”

Slipping in with you brightens a smile. Tugging at your swollen lips, snuggling into him you do not fear rejection. Where he began cold he warms you every night. You completely come into contact with this muscled android. He allows you just as he allows this peace.

Others might find it strange. Smug Nines with his penchant to turn nose up at most people whether they are android or human. Hardly matters when he has the indifference against the world. With you though? This man is the best lover you ever had. Not just when it comes to his bedroom skills, which are plenty amazing. He is just strength, sheltering and today proved that.

Whisking you off after running into your old ex. Nines barely managed out of that without murdering the asshole. Upset after did no good but this-this is everything.

“Are you well after our session?”

An uncontrollable giggle slips out. Who calls it that?! Oh, you love him.

Everything stands still battling these fantasies of the mind. This is reality. Finally being together this way but does he mimic those very words desiring escape? Confessing may ruin it all. Always a story told with you the main character; you twist away to break transparency untold. How it shines so brightly in your eyes. He will read it then. Only thing left is turning a cheek to the one. An android of all beings in the world.

Silence does not bode well for an android as meticulous as Nines. He shifts. Silver sparkles in glacial heat making your entire body fidget. Soft rustling of blankets, sheets do little to hide.

“I love you, Nines,” professing undoes the world.

Inside his space you feel mighty. A shield cast of steel not once dented even though you most certainly were before. He comes as a crystal knight riding the palest steed. He is a handsome prince not of sunshine or rainbows no not he; one of pursed lips, naturally harsh brows. Never is he harsh with you. Power that can crush in those wonderful, large hands if he so chose.

He chooses to grip, caress and fondle you into oblivion. Ecstasy pours from fingers, wine spills from his smooth lips; your heart cannot stand it.

“I’m sorry if you…” Shuddering breath slips your tongue at cool fingers. Gently kissing skin of cheek, strokes to calm erratic thrums of your heartbeat. Does he realize that will not work? Touch alone arouses wonders in you that never rose to the surface until this.

He makes you feel wanted. He makes you feel worth. You deserve actual love and protection. Why did it take so long to find?

The android does not speak. Simply using action to seal an oath as he already did by taking you every which way you desired. Many more ways will come. Many other times he will make stars come alive in the hues of your eyes that capture his human side. Deviancy will be his to share.

Nines captures soft lips. Hungrily he cages your form pressing beneath his sturdy frame. The tangle of your leg with his sends a delicious shudder in an otherwise unsettled shell. He cracks under sweet pressure of you.

“Nines,” a number craved mumbles wet.

Vibrating on the android’s tongue flicking against yours does not end this affection. While he pleasured you any way you asked it’s still amazing to feel those edges go soft. Kisses with him can be ravenous but also sweet. This is a mixture of both sides. Two coins clink together in harmony.

The RK900 does not shun your confessional. He does not detach because it is too late. You are part of his circuitry. Lifeblood of thirium could not power his existence more. Even if he bled every ounce Nines will continue to function…live for you.

Resting forehead against yours, drawing fingers to dust gorgeous curves, tracing delicate. He will show you that nothing will come to tarnish your beauty again. None will touch you, inflict harm upon you without swift retribution.

“I love you as well,” the android reveals in your shared solitude. “I will always protect you. My Flower.”

Tag List: @elydith @your-taxidermy @tropfenlady @connorswink @tommy-10-k

#rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #nines x reader #dbh nines x reader #rk900 #fluff #angst #follower/reader appreciation #tropfenlady #nines gave me my needed fluff quota #this is nice #even if there is some angst #songfic inspo #be the one (destroyed)

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virgil-is-soft-boi · 5 years

Text

Virgil Sanders Oneshot

**THIS IS VERSION 2 - because the contents of the original post got completely deleted for some reason. I did my best to rewrite the entire thing from memory but obviously it won’t be the exact same. Sorry **

Inspired by a headcanon post (here) by @iwantafroyo so credit to them! Hope you enjoy this :) Turned out longer than I expected but I had too much fun writing it to stop myself.

Other tags because you all asked:

@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @ab-artist @sendingcookiesfromhell @we-stan-six-the-musical @phantomstar10

TW: Self harm, anxiety/panic attack

The young emo collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. The others were out helping Thomas with another issue so he finally had the place to himself. Hopefully they wouldn’t do anything stressful. He didn’t feel like having to pop up unexpectedly to stop them from doing something stupid.

Virgil stretched himself out comfortably and allowed himself to relax as he flipped the channels absentmindedly. It was peaceful without the others. Nothing to stress about. Nothing to constantly keep him on edge. Nothing to send him into a panic attack.

The midday sun streamed in through one window, making Virgil quite uncomfortable in his already unzipped hoodie. He badly wanted to take it off and allow the cold air to hit his skin but it was too risky. What if the others suddenly walked in? What if one of the dark sides decided to arrive for an impromptu visit? Virgil tensed at the idea of what would happen then.

The heat continued to rise until Virgil was eventually physically unable to stand it. He was overheating.

Screw it, he was home alone.

In one swift movement, the boy pulled off his garment and chucked it onto the armchair beside him, bathing in the feeling of fresh air against his bare arms. He smiled and reached for the remote, getting himself comfortable again.

He froze.

The sight of his uncovered arm made his stomach turn. His eyes scanned the dozens of white lines criss-crossing their entire way up his forearm. Some were still red and much too noticeable for Virgil’s liking. He hated looking at them. “You’re broken.” they seemed to scream at him. “Damaged. A failure.”

Virgil tore his eyes away and forced himself to focus on the television. He wasn’t going to succumb to those thoughts now. Not today. Not when he had an opportunity to finally breathe.

Minutes passed and Virgil felt himself drift off into sleep, the television chattering on in the background. Blissful peace.

“Virgil?”

He bolted awake at the sound of his name as if he had just been shocked with electricity. Oh God, he hadn’t heard them come in! No, no, no... not today! He wasn’t ready.

His hand shot for the hoodie with lightening speed but to his dismay, it was grabbed mid-reach by Patton. He held onto Virgil’s wrist in a soft but firm grip. He speechlessly took in the sight of the anxious trait’s damaged skin as Virgil stared at him with panic in his eyes, silently begging for him to let go. As he watched the other two sides show up behind their friend, he felt his breathing quicken as he fought the wave of panic.

“You appear to be... hurt.” Logan’s normally monotone voice was tinged with concern. Roman simply stared, struggling to find words as Virgil held back tears.

“Virgil...” Patton’s voice was so soft it was barely audible. He finally let go of the boy’s hand and slowly sat down beside him.

Virgil instantly hugged his arms to himself and curled up into a ball, hiding his face in his knees. He started to shake violently as the sea of panic submerged him. He was drowning. The entire world felt like it was collapsing on top of him, suffocating him. Every sound, every movement was like physical pain to him. The lack of oxygen messed with his vision so he screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on stopping the anxious thoughts that screamed throughout his head.

“Hey, kiddo... we’re here for you.” Patton said cautiously. He hated seeing Virgil like this and he desperately tried to find out how to help. “Do you... um, do you need a hug?” He wasn’t sure if physical contact would make things better or worse.

Virgil tried with all his might to say something— anything— but he had gone completely mute. He was screaming in his head but no sound came out. He couldn’t do anything but sit in silence and suffer. Helpless. Useless.

Patton gingerly placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. The smaller boy tensed but didn’t flinch or pull away from the touch, signalling to the fatherly trait that he could move closer. Patton immediately did so.

Moments later, he had his arms around the trembling boy with Virgil’s face pressed against his chest. They swayed softly as Patton mumbled words of encouragement. “Kiddo, you need to breathe for me okay? Just breathe please... I’m here for you. Come on, breathe with me. Can you do that for me, Virgil? In... and out...”

After what felt like eternity, Virgil finally stopped shaking and hyperventilating. He lay sobbing against his friend’s chest with tear stained cheeks and melted into the hug.

“I-I’m so... I’m s-sorry...” He choked out eventually, regaining his ability to speak.

“No! You mustn't apologize.” Roman said quickly. He was kneeling beside the couch, still not entirely sure how to react. Being the creative one, he was dumbfounded by the fact that he didn’t know what to do in this situation.

“Virgil, may I...” Logan also knelt down beside them, slowly extending his hand towards the anxious boy. Virgil nodded and allowed his arm to be examined by the smart trait. He didn’t have anything else to hide. It was too late for that.

“Everything will be better now, okay kiddo?” Patton gently stroked Virgil’s head to make sure he remained calm. “We’ll take care of you from now on.”

“You’re lucky none of these are infected.” Logan sighed as he adjusted his glasses while examining the wounds. “However, Virgil, next time could you come to us... please.”

“We don’t want to lose you!” Patton hugged the boy tighter as if he would fall apart if he let go. All the affection and physical contact made more tears spill down Virgil’s face. He never thought they cared this much.

“Yes, that would be... an undesirable outcome.” Logan did his best to express his concern, which made Virgil smile through the tears. Despite the formal word usage, he knew the statement was genuine. He nodded slowly and sighed, relaxing against Patton.

They stayed like that for a long time and for the first time in a while, Virgil felt less alone.

He felt safe.

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!

#oneshot #virgil sanders #prompt #headcannon #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts #angst #take two #why did this get deleted i hate my life

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beanzybrandon · 5 years

Text

High School! PRETTYMUCH — Austin Porter

A/N: this isn’t even important i’m just overly amused by the fact that you can see my writing slowly devolve as this goes on

like, proper capitalization and punctuation who?? we don’t know her

literally, if it wasn’t for grammarly there wouldn’t even be apostrophes pFFT

• LOOK • I'm not saying Austin Dale Porter is the biggest nerd to walk this planet but that is exactly what I'm saying • Everyone and their grandmother knows that he watches more anime than any healthy individual should, but his interests delve far beyond the realm of Japanese animation • He's also extremely fond of all sorts of games • Computer gaming? Yes • Console gaming? All the better • RPG fantasy games? Ohmanohman, now we're getting excited!! • Magic and monster intensive card games that bring on more anxiety and competition than they should? Say no more!! He's right there screaming with the best of them • Given his penchant for these types of activities, he's actually one of the founders for the schools’ gaming club which includes, but is not limited to, various types of electronic gaming, card games such as Magic: The Gathering and Pokemon, and tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons • The thing that makes him the happiest is knowing that he's able to share his interests with like-minded individuals with whom he can share educated discussions and formulate genuine relationships • It's actually kind of interesting to see how much effort he places in the club. He cares so much about everyone who has joined and does his best to make sure that he listens to all the ideas and concerns that are presented to him. He does his best to ensure that each meeting is enjoyable and that special gatherings are well-planned and running smoothly • The club is lowkey like his baby and he's very proud of how wonderful things have turned out • Though a great deal of his time is spent focused on these types of activities that is not to say that they are his only priority • He's actually an active member of several other clubs, including robotics and the book club (mayhaps he made it a point to try and coax the president into incorporating manga into some of their group readings. it didn't exactly go the way he wanted it to, but it was a valiant effort indeed) • It's in the latter of these that Austin meets you • It's not uncommon for the group to get walk-ins throughout the semester, curious students wanting to sit in on a meeting to see how things flow or to pose whatever questions they may have • More often than not, those who wander past the doors of the senior-English teacher's classroom don't make a second appearance, but you and a few of your friends had proven to be part of the exception • The initial excitement he felt upon hearing that four students had come to join them melted into mild astonishment when his gaze came to rest upon you for the first time • If love at first sight is a thing, he was certain cupid had hit him with more than one expertly aimed arrow • If it were possible for it to do so, he was sure that his heart was about to beat out of his chest • He's a bit shy so he doesn't talk to you right away • If we're being completely honest, even doing so much as sparing a glance in your direction has his face flushing a shade of red he didn't even know existed • His friends have noticed what's going on by this point (in fact, the entirety of the club seems to have put two and two together...the exceptions being you, of course) and after some not too gentle coaxing, he's shuffling over to you and your friends, hands buried in the front pocket of his paint-stained hoodie • Seeing as though the giggle your friends let out upon seeing him was something you didn't quite understand, you chose to ignore it

• "Mind if I sit with you guys?" He asked, motioning toward the vacant chair beside you • You'd merely nod in response, shifting your own seat to the right some to accommodate his frame as he slipped between the chairs and sat himself down. A relieved smile would break out across his lips the moment the seat of his jeans met the rough plastic of the chair • "I'm Austin," he'd continue, offering his hand to everyone in the rough circle that had been formed. He seemed nice enough, and it wasn't long before all of you were chatting like you had known each other for years. Conversation flowed easily amongst everyone, and you found that you quite liked the adorably-awkward young man on your left • Time passed rather quickly, and before you could present the argument you had as to why Jonathan Joestar was the best JoJo in the JoJo's Bizarre Adventure universe (how ya'll ended up on the topic on anime is beyooooond me. It's totally not like it's some sort of mutual interest) the groups coordinator was standing, calling out that it was time for things to come to a close • "This discussion is far from over," you'd quip as you shoved your things back into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder as it stood • "You're right," He'd answer, an amused lull clinging to his words. After a moment of two of silent deliberation, he'd hit you with a "You should give me your number. I've still gotta crush your argument and I don't think I can wait a week to do that." • And did you? • The only correct answer is yes • A cute boy with mutual interests and a great personality?? You'd be dumb not to

• The smile he offered you after tucking his phone back into the pocket was so sweet you could practically taste the honey on your tongue • You weren't really expecting him to reach out to you later that night, but he did, and sure enough, the argument the two of you had found yourselves in the midsts of earlier that afternoon kicked up, stronger than ever • The capabilities of fictional characters weren't the only thing you found yourselves discussing, though. • As the night drew on, it became clear to see that you guys had more in common than you had anticipated • And goodness was he full of jokes • The better part of about five hours was spent wheezing into your pillow in a feeble attempt to keep from waking your family • You were insanely tired come the next morning, but that was okay with you • Because you made a new friend and couldn't remember the last time you had had so much fun just texting someone

• The progression of your relationship was a quick one. In a matter of months, the two of you had become the best of friends and were doing quite literally everything together. You were prettymuch (HAH) attached at the hip • By the time the year had come to a close, Austin was certain the feelings he held for you ran deeper than the fleeting crushes he had experienced thus far, and you were growing to realize that you liked him more than you let on • Had either of you mentioned this, though? • Of course not • Because high school is weird and what are emotions and literally how do you convey these things to other people without coming off weird or them looking at you like you ate their first born child • It's never really that intense, but that's what it fEELS LIKE and neither of you wanted to subject yourself to that type of humiliation • Or ruin the relationship that you had built

• the fact that your relationship had gone from being platonic to romantic at all was surprising • but not undesirable in the slightest • it had happened rather spontaneously. he had come over for your weekly movie-marathon, a bag of snacks in hand and a warm smile on his face • the night had followed the same pattern of those that had come before them, but the air that had fallen over the two of you as you huddled together on the couch was different • neither of you could quite describe what it felt like, just that it was odd and left you with a dry throat and a small knot in the pit of your stomach

• every so often, Austin would shift a bit closer, muttering something about being cold and you hogging all the blankets • which very well may have been true but?? You had laid claim to it first • After enough pestering, you'd let out an exasperated huff and throw your arm up, holding the blanket open • "Hurry up and get under it before I change my mind and let you freeze" • He wouldn't need to be told a second time

• honestly, he's not even watching the movie • he's pitching little glances in your direction every so often, gaze softening when it falls across your features • oh man • thisismorethanacrush.jpg • he's not exactly subtle about his staring, so it isn't long before you've caught him • uhoh.exe

• "why are you staring? is there something on my face?" • uHOH.EXE • ABORT MISSION • poor boy is broken though, he doesn't even know how to answer • "seriously, is there snot hanging out of my nose or something?" you'd ask, wiping fervently at your face with the sleeve of his your hoodie • nope, just beauty • but he doesn't say this • because his brain is BROKEN and all that's inside of his head right now is a pile of GOO • so what does he do instead? • the only thing any logical teenage boy would do, of course • he kisses you • and maybe it's his first kiss so it's rushed and unsure but it's a kiss all the same • and maybe, just maybe you kiss back • and then maybe dating doesn't seem like it would be so bad after all

• boyfriend Austin is honestly the softest thing in the world?? • like, being in love with someone is already a phenomenal feeling but sharing that type of relationship with your best friend is immensely better because you've already established a strong bond and you know each other better than anyone else • that doesn't mean he doesn't still love to learn more, though • if you thought he was interested in your hobbies before, you should see him now • he does his absolute best to learn about the things that intrigue you that way you're able to do more together • has asked you to teach him how to do some of your favorite things on more than one occasion • it doesn't always turn out (you tried to show him how to bake a cake once and he had flour in his hair for at least three days afterward) great but he's making a genuine effort and the look that fills his eyes when he's working with you is easily the sweetest thing in the world • you being happy makes him happier than he knew possible • he loves showing you his favorite things, too!! • taught you how to skate, likes to paint and game with you whenever time allows

• 110% okay with you stealing his clothing • if we're being honest, he kind of encourages it?? his hoodies practically swallow you and he thinks it's the cutest thing in the world • he's also very fond of skinship • like, it doesn't matter what it is, he just wants to touch you. he loves how perfectly your hand fits in his, the warmth that rolls off of your body when you cuddle up to him, the way your lips feels against his

• spEAKING OF KISSES • they're this boys' biggest weakness?? • like, give him kisses and he will instantly become a pile of goo • he's especially fond of the sweet little kiss you press to the corner of his lips, or the ones he gets on his forehead and the tip of his nose when he has his head resting in your lap • he has no issue with pda whatsoever • he's not one of those dudes that try to shove his tongue down your throat in the middle of the hallway or anything like that, but he does like to show people that you're his • it's not even a possessive thing, he's just really happy to have you • his entire mentality is literally "lOOk aT mY pArtNer!" • "aRenT tHey So DOpE?!" • "iM DatIng LItErALLy The MosT aMaZInG PeRsOn In thE wOrlD!!" • kisses between classes • kisses after school • soft lil kisses just because • walks you to all your classes • carries your books despite you telling him it's cheesy and unnecessary • "it's cheesy but you love it" • you do love it, you can't even argue

• absolutely head over heels for you • and you for him • the likelihood of the relationship lasting until graduation is very high, and it's almost guaranteed you'll be together well into your young adult years • in short, you're the sweetest of high school sweethearts

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kiwi-buns · 5 years

Text

5 Emotions

🎲 100. “Kiss me” from Prompt List

🎲 Genre: Fluff

🎲 Word Count: 3050 (un-revised)

🎲 Author’s note: Reposted! Sorry for deleting it so fast. I disliked it the moment it was posted LOL, but here it is again! I’ll follow the rules next time and just let a prompt be a prompt, even if it’s bad?? Otherwise, how else will I be able to overcome writer’s block without writing something crazy and then receiving feedback? So.. enjoy! This was honestly fun to write, and I’m thinking of turning it into a full story with better development between the emotions and OC and her crush!

🎲 Inspiration: Inside Out! Go watch it!

“She made it through the entire date... She did it! She did it!” The only rainbow-colored emotion, Happiness, jumps up and down with his hands raised in the air.

“No... We did it,” the green emotion interrupts, grabbing Happiness’ arm and lowering it back to his side. With a scowl, Happiness glares at Disgust, scrunching his bunny-shaped nose in annoyance. “Frankly, I don’t think she should have all the credit for our hard work. If not for us, she wouldn’t be able to come within 100 miles of him.”

Sadness bellows a sigh. "Disgust... You know, we emotions only have 50% control over her feelings... Right? Hope you had an idea, at least...”

Disgust twinges his thick brows and sneers. “I want to disagree —”

“But you can’t, because you said she’d think he was ugly and disgusting. And she fell head over heels for him!” Happiness chirps.

“Took me by surprise!” Surprise says, the orange emotion leaping from his chair. Surprise was not very fond of Baekhyun. The star football player is loved by all of the girls, even the popular ones. He can’t believe that Baekhyun had suddenly jumped from the most popular and hot girls on the cheer team, to you.

You’re just a regular girl. Sometimes shy, always sweet. But you don’t come close to the seemingly charismatic and popularity-hungry girls at your school. Maybe that’s what made Baekhyun like you.

Of course, you have no one but yourself to blame for your personality, because you aren’t aware of the emotions that run you, daily. You know you have emotions, but are these emotions you think of really the emotions that you are thinking of? Surely, the last thing that would come to mind is a bunch of colorful, male emoticons using an orb to process your feelings and reactions to things. If only you could’ve seen what they did when you found out you got your first period. That left an awful memory in at least half of the students’ and faculty members’ minds, and yours. And your emotions are all to blame, because they take 100% control when it’s that time of the month.

Which begs to question, why did Byun Baekhyun, the most handsome, charming, and heart-fluttering guy at your school who doesn’t seem to have one embarrassing moment in his life, want to date you? Does he want an embarrassing moment? Sadness came up with that inquisitive theory.

“Alright, alright, the show’s starting. Now, unless you nerds want me to take the steering wheel at the end of the date, then keep talking!” The red emotion, Anger, hovers his hand over a very, very important button. Anger is smirking softly, thinking of how you can just confront Baekhyun about his strange liking to you, about how he likes you when there’s tons of cool girls who’d actually drink the beer at parties when he invites them over, and then leave him hanging without a hug. Or maybe even a farewell kiss.

Baekhyun had been staring at your lips every so often as the two of you talked to each other. Every second, he’d been thinking about doing it. It’d be a bummer for Anger to mess it up. Anger comes with every feeling undesirable; hostility, displeasure, and annoyance. The most common was your annoyance with Baekhyun’s persistence.

Whenever Baekhyun called your name in the hallways, Anger would flare up and cause you to hide in the nearest girls’ room and make you think Baekhyun was playing with you because, “He really wants that bet money from his friends, doesn’t he?” It was a reasonable reaction, but sometimes Anger isn’t the best choice for controlling your reactions to Baekhyun’s genuine smiles, fleeting touches, and heart-fluttering compliments. Anger had to be tied to a chair most of the time when Baekhyun came around. Anger just couldn’t control his anger because he was sure Baekhyun was only toying with your emotions.

The colorful emotions dart their eyes over to the doubled screen, in which they call your eyes. It is the end of you and Baekhyun’s date. The sky is a dusky blue, marking the end of your romantic evening. Now, the two of you are standing in front of each other outside of your house. The date was as smooth as a strawberry milkshake doused in banana puree. All it needed was a cherry on the top.

“Oh, my!” Surprise throws his hand over his lips, shocked at the closeness of Anger’s finger to your outward emotion orb. Before the red emotion can touch it, Happiness leaps over the orb, tackling Anger to the ground. If there’s anyone who’s good at controlling your romantic feelings, it’s Happiness.

Happiness is the leader because he makes everyone happy. Including you. He is apart of the elements that makes every human’s life stimulating; joy, satisfaction, contentment, and most of all — pleasure. Without Happiness, you would have never been able to discover that Baekhyun actually liked you for real.

Valentine’s day had come around, and everyone was receiving these bizarre, crazy gifts. And you? You got nothing.

Anger was so mad, because “what the fuck, Baekhyun?” he barked. Surprise and Disgust was right behind him when you passed by Baekhyun in the hallway, and the handsome jock hadn’t spared you a single glance.

“Boys just talk to you for attention and then ignore you once they get it. Bleh, I knew it. I just knew he was too good to be true. ‘Boys are gross’ — why did she stop thinking this once she got in high school?” Disgust gagged in disappointment, having to excuse himself because of the nausea Baekhyun’s behavior caused.

And Surprise, who was always expecting something and got surprised when that expectation wasn’t met. “Oh, my! He just, passed by her! I know he can see her from his peripheral, she’s looking right at him! Is he seriously, literally, purposely avoiding her gaze? He’s about to pass. He might look last minute. Just wait for it and… He never looked. What a jerk!”

Sadness had put the tear soaked cherry on top. With a groan, he pursed his lips together to conceal their quivering. “Maybe it just… isn’t her time… Good girls come in last place, too, I guess.” Sadness was the one to actually make you feel sad, because he touched your outward emotion orb, which made your eyes well up in the slightest. Sadness felt even more sad even having to do that to you, but who smiles or throws up when their crush simply passes by them?

Sadness had to do it, to show you that you really liked Baekhyun. And if you still liked Baekhyun, Happiness could come in and restore that everlasting likeness by giving you hope. Sadness and Happiness, though being complete polar opposites of each other, were the perfect pair when it came to repairing your heart.

“Guys, just wait! He could have something planned for her later on,” Happiness bursted in. “You all think like children, she’s 18 for Amygdala’s sake.”

“You keep that up, I might mistake you for Hope, which what? Doesn’t exist!!!!!” Anger boiled before smoothing his sideburns down to calm himself.

Happiness touched your orb, and gave you more time to think about your reaction to Baekhyun’s behavior.

Maybe he didn’t see you. Maybe he had to go to class. Maybe he was busy chatting up with his friends that he hadn’t noticed you. The truth is, he was ignoring you on purpose. But not because he didn’t want to not give a lovestruck girl false hope of everlasting in a relationship with him. But because he had something planned for you later, and he wanted to build suspense. He wanted to surprise you.

When you’d received a text at the end of the day from Baekhyun to meet him on the football field, Surprise was not prepared for what you’d see. The orange emotion just thrusted himself onto your outward emotion orb when you saw it. The rest of the emotions watched the scene of you staring wide-eyed at the gigantic heart-shaped balloons, the howling of musical instruments playing a romantic tune, and Baekhyun’s handsome smile and beautiful lips inviting you in for a kiss.

Except, it had looked like Surprise fainted on your outward emotion orb. So Disgust pushed him off, declaring “that’s enough,” all the while bumping his big, green butt into the orb. This caused you to avoid Baekhyun’s lips and lean in to give him a hug instead. A perfect moment to kiss: bombed.

The emotions went to war with Disgust that day. “Why didn’t you kiss him!!!!!” They fell out, popcorn flying.

“Because,” Disgust smirked, with his hands on his hips. “Boys are gross.”

Presently, you and Baekhyun are standing on the curb in front of your house. The skies are pretty and dusky, the wind is blowing softly, and God, Byun Baekhyun looks so good. He’s wearing a pink sweater and a handsome smile that makes you melt every time. This is the perfect moment for a kiss, if your emotions would just pull themselves together this time. But they don’t seem to be doing so right now.

“Get off me. Your positivity is dampening my will to reject the boy,” Disgust sneers at Happiness.

“Guys… Things are getting awkward…” Sadness glares at the doubled screen. A few minutes have passed, and you and Baekhyun haven’t leaned into each other or hugged or anything. You become the shy girl again, tutting on heels as you stare at Baekhyun with flaming cheeks. Your emotions realize you need them, and they stop fooling around. All of them.

Happiness, Anger, Sadness, Surprise, and Disgust surround the orb.

These guys don’t know what to do. They’ve got all of their own special skills and talents, but who even knows how to initiate a kiss. Let alone, a kiss that feels real? Hugs, compliments, subtle touches are easy. Two or three of the emotions work together to make those. But a kiss? You’ve never kissed a boy before.

Sadness and Happiness try to come up with another one of their brilliant plans to make you kiss Baekhyun, but you’d cry tears of joy, and it’d make things… weird.

Disgust and Anger are out of the picture. The emotions don’t even know how that’d work. You’d bite Baekhyun’s lip, draw blood, and then throw up?

Surprise expects this kiss to be perfect because it’s your first. But you’re not an experienced kisser. He can’t make you go in for the kiss, knowing you probably wouldn’t do so well.

“Um…” Sadness scratches his head.

“This is making me nauseous,” Disgust sneers.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Surprise breathes.

“Why can’t she just do it? We always have to do the heavy work for her,” Anger growls, massaging his sideburns in meditation.

“Guys,” Happiness begins. The emotions stop buzzing and look up at the leader. He looks down at the glowing orb. “Maybe we should all touch it at the same time.”

“B-But… Wouldn’t she like… Combust?”

“That’s just stupid. She’d be angry, disgusted, sad, happy, and surprised all at the same time. What kind of foolery?”

“If she combusts, we’d all die… I…I’m nauseous even thinking about my own death.”

“Combust!? That’s possible!?”

“No, guys,” Happiness stops them. “Listen to yourselves. You all care about her, no matter what shade of color you are.” The emotions listen to Happiness. They notice how the root to all of their existences — anger, sadness, disgust, and surprise — is you. When they realize the reason they are working everyday to make you react, they realize they’re doing it because they love you. Otherwise, why haven’t they ceased to exist yet?

“That means something good exists in all of you. So look past what you are and do something good for her. She’s in love, right?” The emotions nod. “Love is everything, we are everything. Don’t cry, act dazed, throw up, or bite any lips.”

The emotions narrow their eyes on the orb, staring at it anxiously as their colorful hands come up to cup its edges. Happiness runs his eyes over all of his members and quirks a smile at their unique facial expressions. He calls to them, for one last word of reassurance. They lift their heads, their eyes glazing.

“Just love. Okay?”

The glazing in their eyes fade and is replaced with a twinkle of affection. All of the emotions’ direct their attention to the beaming orb, and their hands draw closer to it.

“I guess this is the end of the line, huh?” Baekhyun says, looking away from your house and at you again.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” you whine softly. “But 9 PM was the deal.” An abashed giggle escapes your lips, your face heating up with embarrassment because of your parent’s strict curfew. Baekhyun’s warm hand cups your cheek. He caresses your cheek in a tender circle, making the plush jowl turn warm.

Your heart feels like it’ll melt when his smooth ministrations are paired with a soft, handsome smile. “That’s okay, kitten. As long as I get to see you tomorrow?” he asks, with a hopeful twinkle in his eyes.

“Of course!” Your lips stretch into a wide grin. “In fact, we can hang out all day tomorrow. I have nothing to do. Do you?” you ask, leaning your cheek more into his palm as you blink softly.

Baekhyun shakes his head, lips curving. He pokes his thumb at the corner of your lips. Your heart stutters when the soft pad of his thumb massages your bottom lip — slightly parting your pillows open. You gasp at his touch.

Baekhyun’s honey brown globes shine as he licks his lips — in his head wishing he could just kiss you already. Ever since you’d exchanged a kiss for a hug, he has been a little cautious with trying to rush things with you. He just wants your first moments to be perfect. Surprisingly, this is the first time the two of you will kiss. Because for whatever reason he still can’t figure out, that special moment got delayed a day ago on Valentine’s day.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, tilting his head to the side. “And you’re mine.”

You conceal an abashed giggle. “I’m not…”

His fingers glide towards the back of your head and into your hair. All the while, he’s so unaware of how much that is affecting you. “If you aren’t, then I’ll have to figure out some way to make you mine.”

You realize he missed what you mean. Since he thinks you haven’t already made yourself his, you take the opportunity to ask. “How are you going to do that?” you question, taking a step closer to him.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he screws his lips up playfully. “I’ll buy you your favorite chocolates?”

“You’ve already done that a million times before,” you tease. “Plus, that makes me feel fat.”

“Ah,” he sighs, which causes you to giggle. “How about a strawber—” he stops himself, realizing he can no longer bribe you with your favorite foods. It worked in his favor so many times at first, but now your heart yearns for a little more than just innocent remarks and romantic gestures. “I’m out of ideas, kitten.” Baekhyun pouts and it’s the cutest thing.

You blow a raspberry at him.

“How can I, really? Can I tell you you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen? Can I take you all over the world? Buy you gifts, feed you all your favorite foods, take you on all the fancy dates you want?” Baekhyun’s hands come to your waist, cupping your sides gently. He whines. “Baby, how can I make you mine?”

“I like the way you think, Oppa,” you say, making the male’s lips stretch a little. “But why do all of that, when you can just...” You pause. Getting on your tippy toes, you reach Baekhyun's height perfectly. Your nose brushes against his on your way up, making you flustered. Baekhyun’s eyes are on your face as he scans your expression. His gaze is full of anticipation and hunger now.

You surprise yourself, not really knowing what comes over you for your forwardness. Baekhyun finds it so cute.

“I can just, what?” Baekhyun asks, a smirk ghosting his pretty lips as he breathes against your parted ones.

“Kiss me,” you breathe.

Baekhyun obliges immediately. His smile fades slowly as he draws himself closer and glues his lips to yours. Your eyes shutter closed and you feel a ton of things all at once as he kisses you. You can barely control your emotions as you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s neck and press your body flat against his. One hand cups your nape while the other wraps around your body. For the first time in forever, you can’t tell what you’re feeling.

That is, until your emotions bind together to tell you that you’re in love with Byun Baekhyun. And all of those moments of doubt and built-up suspense lead to a kiss that was real and made your emotions go haywire with love.

“Girls, we did it!” Joy cheers, detaching her hands from the orb to shake Shock. Shock’s face is still in a pause because of you asking Baekhyun to kiss you. Joy falls when Obnoxious screeches and pushes her down. Getting back up with a still bright smile, Joy beams. “I can’t wait to plan the wedding!”

“How did such a shy little kitten become so bold?” Sombre asks, shaking her head and removing her hands from Baekhyun’s orb.

Joy laughs. “That doesn’t matter anymore! We got her to kiss him!”

“Something’s wrong,” Anxiety shakes her head.

“What is it?” Obnoxious shouts.

“Hell if I know,” Anxiety says before walking away from the other emotions circling Baekhyun’s orb without an explanation.

...

Can you guess which emotion is which EXO member?

Hint: one is Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, Jongin, and Sehun!

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanficti #baekhyun scenari #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun imagines #exo imagine #exo imagines #exo scenarios #byun baekhyun #kiwi-spice

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wisdomrays · 5 years

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The Fire of Fitnah and Supplicating to God

QUESTION: Could you elucidate the lessons we can take from the verse, meaning: “O Our Lord! Do not make us prey to those who disbelieve. And forgive us, our Lord. You are the All-Glorious with irresistible might, the All-Wise” (al-Mumtahina 60:5).

ANSWER: Prophet Abraham’s name is openly mentioned in the previous verse and we understand that this prayer belongs to him. In the previous verse, God Almighty states the following about Prophet Abraham and the believers in his company: “Indeed, you have had an excellent example to follow in Abraham and those in his company.”

It is not possible to understand the true depth and immensity of the Qur’an by means of simple translations with a superficial approach. For this reason, let us expound on the matter further and try to reflect the meaning of the verse in our mirror of comprehension by paraphrasing it: “You can find all of the ideal examples you seek in the perfect lives of Prophet Abraham and those in his company, with respect to their words, states, attitudes, and behaviors. This is because they were virtually embodiment of ideal examples.” God Almighty brought this prayer to our attention as one of the exemplary behaviors from Prophet Abraham’s noble life.

A Word of Extensive Meaning: Fitnah

Understanding the prayer of Prophet Abraham depends, to some extent, on understanding the word “fitnah” well. For this reason, it is first necessary to elaborate on the word “fitnah” a bit.

Arabs refer to the act of refining gold from dust and stones as fitnah. In a general sense, it means a trial, a test, putting something to a melting pot, or separating something from undesired elements. In connection to this essential meaning, the word fitnah has an extensive field of figurative use in religious literature. For example, though causing tumult, mayhem, turmoil, and strife between people is referred as fitnah, others kinds of worldly trials—such as greed, health, youth, and worldly ambition—which may cause a person to lose their eternal bliss are also fitnah. In addition, when believers are subjected to oppression, tortures, and persecution; or if they are forced in different ways to contradict their faith, to renounce parts of their faith, or are sent to exile because of their faith; all these are examples of fitnah. What fitnah mentioned in the verse means is the sense expressed within the frame of this latter description.

The word “imtihan” (trial) is sometimes used interchangeably with the word fitnah and is also significant in terms of understanding the notion of fitnah. As it is known, “imtihan” comes from “mihnat,” a word used for referring to the process of purifying silver by melting it in fire.

Accordingly, people who volunteer for shouldering a lofty ideal will be subjected to various ordeals and trials. Those who wage war against religion, virtue, and morality will not let such believers live in accordance with their values, but will coerce them to step back from the path they believe and lead a life similar to theirs. Prophet Abraham and those in his company were also subjected to persecution and torment due to their sincerity and resolute stance; they were driven away from their hometown, and underwent heavy pressures, just like being thrown into fire. In the face of all these trials, Prophet Abraham opened his hands as a requirement of his duty of guidance; and together with the believers near him, he prayed for deliverance from oppression with the following words:

“O Our Lord! Do not make us a prey to those who disbelieve (do not let us become objects in their hands that are put to fire, then battered, then placed on an anvil, and then banged with hammers!). And forgive us, our Lord! You are the sole owner of victory and wisdom.”

The inherent impotence and weakness in human nature is voiced through this prayer, for the trial is truly hard. A person may not resist being battered with hammers and remaining in fire. In this respect, using his great insight, Prophet Abraham sought refuge in God against such a calamity.

Requisites of the Righteous Path

As a matter of fact, troubles, misfortunes, fitnahs, and trials are the unchanging fate for those who take the righteous path. A person becomes a target to enemies of faith, according to his or her degree of soundness and earnestness before God. If you have become a person of integrity with your faith, and care for your cause and the ideal state you present, this will make adversaries anxious, and they never leave you alone.

When they asked the noble Prophet, “O Messenger of God, which people are subjected to the hardest of troubles?” he answered, “The Prophets, and then other people in accordance with their level.” As it is explicitly understood from this hadith, the severest, hardest, and most insurmountable troubles befall the Prophets. Other believers are then exposed to troubles according to their level. In this respect, we can say that if we had been subjected to the same trials the Prophets underwent, we would not be able to bear them.

Discerning the Meaning of Trials Correctly

Right after his wish for deliverance from fitnah, Prophet Abraham asked forgiveness from God. Although a believer becomes a target solely for being on the righteous path, and thus undergoes troubles and fitnahs, he still considers the possibility of these stemming from his own faults and sins, and thus asks, or should ask, forgiveness for these sins.

A person should approach every trouble and misfortune that befalls him with the approach of Umar ibn al-Khattab. As it is known, he ascribed the drought that took place in his time to his own sins, put his head on the ground in prostration, and said, “My God! Please do not ruin Muslims because of my sins!”

This is the attitude of an ideal believer. If lightning strikes or a flood takes place, such a person should say, “I wonder whether it happened on account of my sins?” A believer should ascribe all troubles and misfortunes to his sins – and should also think that they serve as a means of purification from these sins.

On the other hand, if believers associate partners with God by means of laying personal claim on certain bestowals of God and ascribing certain good outcomes to themselves, this may also cause certain misfortunes to befall them. God Almighty never wants us to associate partners with Him. There is no graver sin or ugly deed comparable to such an adulteration of deeds fulfilled for the sake of one God.

Associating partners with God does not only mean worshiping stone or wooden idols. This is the plain version. There is also the hidden version of associating partners with God. With reference to this subject the Messenger of God stated, “What I fear about you most is associating partners with God in the minor sense (shirk al-asghar).” When the Companions asked the meaning of this minor sense, he answered that it is “riya” (showing off and affectation).

Such a form of associating partners with God is explained in another hadith as follows: “Associating partners with God is more covert than an ant walking on a rock on a dark night.” Affectation is so sinister and covert that a person does not realize it most of the time, and thus his devotions and services on the path of God waste away.

When people striving on the path of God adulterate their works by associating partners with God, He might occasionally let misguided ones pester them, as an imposed blessing. When we look at the Risale-i Nur Collection, we see that Bediüzzaman relates many examples of this, such as those in “Slaps of Divine Compassion” and the “Supplements.” In addition, it needs to be known that troubles that befall believers are directly proportional with the gravity of the sins. According to the scope of one’s faults and sins, the misfortunes can be slaps of compassion, or chastisement.

Divine Destiny Rules Justly

While adulterating good works with egocentric considerations—e.g., acts like self-congratulation about an article one has written, or expecting appreciation for a building one has constructed—might lead to receiving a “slap of compassion,” it might even nullify a great deal of labor, effort, sweat, and pain. In addition, God may subject believers to fitnah as a consequence of all these and discipline them by means of unbelievers. Although misguided ones commit oppression, Divine destiny rules justly. Undergoing such a trouble is expiation for sins. However, it needs to be known that there are certain conditions for such fitnah and trials can become atonement for sins.

If believers realize the fact that the troubles they undergo stem from their own wrongs, turn to God in genuine repentance, and ask forgiveness from Him by saying, “I truly repent O Lord! I ask forgiveness a million times,” the fitnah that befell them may turn beneficial and become a means for their forgiveness.

Bediüzzaman also expressed that he understood the reason for the ordeal he was subjected to through the hands of misguided and worldly ones, and made the self critical interpretation that it happened because he made serving on the path of faith and the Qur’an a tool for his personal progress for this world and the next. There is not the slightest indication about abuse. But this is how he evaluated the issue from his horizons of self-criticism. A person should not cherish any worldly or otherworldly expectations in return for the services he carries out for the sake of God. One must not only be free from expectations of appreciation and applause, but even from otherworldly expectations as, “Let me carry out these works, so that I make progress on my spiritual journey; let me ascend one more step; let me enter Paradise and enjoy its highest level of Firdaws…”

Otherwise the troubles, hardships, and pains taken may not be expiation for sins. For example, if a person who undergoes a fitnah says, “I am striving on the path of God. I did not do anything wrong to deserve this,” and does not make any self-criticism—or even if he complains about his condition, then he will have gone through much in vain. In addition, such a person—May God protect us—will have committed the sin of criticizing Divine Destiny and not resigning to God’s decree.

May God enable all of us to serve us on His path until our last breath, to bless our life with the light of consciousness of repentance and asking forgiveness, and thus walk to the realms beyond in a purified and immaculate state!

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littlebtswriter · 6 years

Text

bts reaction / you are insecure with being skinny

request: Aaaaaa can I request BTS reacting to you feeling bad because of how skinny you are? I hope it's not too late haha

a/n: I hope this encourages you, sweetie! you are enough no matter what size or weight you are.

joonie

You’d been dreading the awards show for weeks. There would be thousands of people there watching you, taking pictures of you, seeing you with your boyfriend, Namjoon. What if they judged you? What if Twitter started going crazy about how small and skinny you were?

Namjoon knew you had these fears, so he made sure to constantly shower you with love and praises. When you found the dress you were wearing, he couldn’t stop talking about it to his other members.

“I swear, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off her that night. Other guys better not be looking at my special girl. I’m such a lucky man, I can’t believe it.”

He was such a sweetheart when it came to you, and it did help your confidence a lot. But, it was still hard for you not to be worried about the awards show and what would happen. When the big night came and you had one of BTS’s personal stylist do your hair and makeup and helped you with your dress, you felt a little better about yourself.

Namjoon couldn’t keep his eyes off you when he saw you stand up from the makeup chair. He jumped up and down and squealed like a little kid. “You look so good! Holy fuck!” He shouted, Hoseok laughing behind him and telling him not to swear because he was trying to record this for ARMY.

You laughed, feeling pretty for the first time in weeks. “Thank you Joonie. You always know how to make me feel beautiful.”

jin

“You should eat some more, y/n. You’ve been looking very thin lately,” Hoseok said without thinking, passing the bowl of noodles down to you. Your heart dropped to your stomach at his words as Jin immediately made eye contact with you.

He knew you struggled with gaining weight and trying to be confident in your thin frame, but the other members didn’t really know much about it. In their eyes, it was desirable to be easily thin like you.

You swallowed, setting down the noodles without taking any. “I . . . I’m actually not feeling really well. I think I might go lay down,” you murmured, quietly getting up from the table and walking out.

You forced the tears back as you stepped into your shared bedroom with Jin. Sighing deeply, you let your shoulders sag as you sunk into the bed and curled into a ball. It didn’t help when people reminded you of your weight, of how undesirable you felt.

Tears spilled over, making little wet trails down your face. You let out a soft sob, burying your face into the pillows. You heard the door open, footsteps coming towards the bed. Gentle arms and legs wrapped around you, Jin’s chin resting on your shoulder and his chest pressed against your back.

“I adore your body,” Jin whispered in your ear. He began to press kisses behind your ear, trailing them down your neck, giving you butterflies in your stomach. “You make me so happy with everything you do and everything you are. Don’t ever feel like you have to change for me. I love every part of you.”

yoongi

You hated it when Yoongi saw you naked with the lights on. Sex would only happen late at night anyway since he always came to the bedroom so late, so him seeing you completely naked wasn’t a bother then. But, you didn’t dress in front of him or bathe with him. You just felt like you weren’t good enough for Yoongi to see.

He knew how you felt, and told you multiple times he didn’t think that way about you. But, he wanted to respect how you felt, and didn’t invade your privacy.

One day while you were weighing yourself before a bath, you stepped naked onto the scale to weigh yourself. It wasn’t anywhere near where you wanted to be. Why couldn’t you just gain weight like normal people? Or at least be happy being skinny like Yoongi was? Even he had thicker thighs than you. You were jealous of the curves and muscles Yoongi had on his body. It was hard not to stare at him when he rolled out of bed and dressed in the morning.

Swallowing down the pain growing in the pit of your stomach, you let the tears flow down your cheeks and fall onto the cold surface of the scale.

Never enough.

Sobs began to shake your body. You tried to muffle them with your hands, but someone heard them from outside the bathroom.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” It was Yoongi’s deep, calming voice from outside the door. You panicked, unable to answer from the hysteria taking over your body. Instead, you sat next to the scale and hugged your knees to your chest, trying to breathe.

“I’m coming in,” he said slowly, the knob starting to turn. At this point, you didn’t care anymore. You were so tired of fighting and hiding, you didn’t care if he saw how undesirable you felt. The door opened, Yoongi appearing with his dark hair swept over his forehead and a black t-shirt tucked into jeans.

When he saw your naked form huddled on the bathroom floor, he quickly closed the door behind him and grabbed a towel, kneeling down in front of you.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Tell me what’s going on,” he said slowly, wrapping the towel around you. You shivered, tugging the coarse towel around your shoulders.

“I just feel like I’m not enough,” you said between hiccups. Yoongi scooped you up easily, placing you on the bathroom counter and holding you against his chest, his hands caressing your bare thighs.

“Because of your body? I know. I’ve known for a while.” He whispered, stroking your hair gently.

“You’re enough for me. I don’t care how much you weigh. I love you for your personality and your laugh, the way you love me and love on me. I love you for so much more than a number on a scale. Don’t ever think that.” He pulled away, cupping your chin with his hand and brushing his thumb across your lower lip as he licked his own. He kissed you, his eyes closing so his long lashes rested against his cheeks.

“I love you so much.”

hoseok

You’d only had sex a few times with Hoseok, and it had been in pitch black darkness in the bedroom. You weren’t really uncomfortable with Hoseok seeing you naked. But, at the same time you didn’t mind letting him just imagine what you looked like without your clothes.

It was a lazy night at your apartment with him. He was working on his computer in the living room while you soaked in the bathtub, staring at your small legs in the soapy water. You felt like a child sometimes around Hoseok with how small you were. He didn’t seem to mind it. He actually enjoyed having a cute girlfriend he could pick up and cuddle.

Smiling to yourself, you closed you eyes and sunk a bit lower into the soapy water. A knock on the door made you jump awake and sit up. The door opened without warning and Hoseok came in. “Sorry, I just need to pee.” He said casually.

You didn’t really mind him barging in too much. But, the sound of him unzipping his fly and pissing in the toilet made for a very long awkward minute. “Sorry,” he said again after flushing the toilet and washing his hands.

He glanced at your small form in the bubbly water and smiled a bit. “Aw, baby you look so cute!” He said, kneeling down by the bath. “Whatcha been thinking about in here?” He asked, resting his chin on the bath’s edge and smiling at you. Your heart melted at how sweet and genuine he was being with you, and all thoughts about you not being good enough for him disappeared as you talked to Hoseok while you soaked in the bath.

jimin

Jimin was a clingy boyfriend. He loved to always have his hands on you and he hated being alone. You understood him and forced yourself out of your comfort zone sometimes by letting him cuddle you and take pictures with you.

But, one day you just weren’t feeling it. You were tired from a stressful day and the fact that you kept getting hate comments on Twitter for looking too skinny in a selfie with Jimin just made your day worse. Jimin could tell you were more tense than usual, but he was stressed and tired too. So, while you were stressed and wanted to be alone, Jimin was stressed and wanted to be cuddled.

“Tell me about your day. What made it so terrible?” Jimin asked, snuggling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. He let out a huge relaxed sigh at feeling your body against his. You wished you could release your stress just as easily as he did. Tensing up, you scrolled through more rude comments on Twitter without replying.

“Babe?” Jimin asked timidly, his back pressed against your chest as he looked over your shoulder. You set your phone down so he couldn’t see what you are looking at and wrapped his arm around your waist so you could entwine your hand with his.

“Yeah?” You mumbled, feeling a little better now that the phone was set aside. Jimin seemed to grow shy all of a sudden, silence going on for a bit too long.

“C-could we have sex tonight? It’s been almost a week. Have you been alright? It isn’t like you to be so absent.”

You felt slightly irritated by his question, wanting to blow it off at first by saying you’d been on your period. But, Jimin would know that wasn’t true since he tracked your period on an app. The real reason you had been distant for the past week was because you’d been feeling terrible about your body.

The Twitter hate was just so strong within the past few days, and you’d also been losing your appetite which just made the whole thing worse. The past few nights you’d just rolled over whenever Jimin made a move and mumbled a quick goodnight.

“I’m not in the mood for sex, Jimin.” You said, biting your bottom lip as you tried to keep annoyance out of your voice. You could feel Jimin’s disappointment in the way his body sagged around you.

“Is it something I’ve done?” He asked, sitting up slowly, his eyes wide and scared. You huffed, rolling onto your back and rubbing your eyes with a groan. “Is . . . is it my body?” Jimin whispered.

His words made your heart jump into your throat. He had insecurities too? You knew he did, but not this much. You suddenly felt ashamed for holding back from him. “Jimin, no. It’s because of my body. I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you said plainly, the emotions you were expecting to bubble out surprisingly not there.

Jimin looked confused, looking you up and down, as if expecting to find what you thought the problem was. “Why would you ever think that?” He asked, astounded. He knew you had body image issues, but he never thought you would think you weren’t good enough for him.

You sighed, crossing your legs. “I just . . . I don’t have curves or boobs, nothing a guy wants.” You murmured, picking at your fingernails. Jimin licked his lips, inching closer to you.

“You’re what I want,” he whispered, looking you in the eyes.

Your shoulders sagged as you thought about the tweets again, the people telling you you didn’t look enough like a woman for Jimin. Tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Jimin brushed them away with his thumb, giving you tender kisses on your cheeks and nose and lips.

His hands began to wander up your bare thighs and up your shirt, his kisses making you feel heated and dizzy. He let out soft moans as you ran your fingers through his dark hair, pressing his lips against yours.

You could feel yourself slowly losing yourself in his touch. Everything sent butterflies flying in your stomach and made you long for more. He gently laid you down on the bed and crouched over you, his hands cupping your face.

“I’ll make you feel loved and worthy tonight, I promise.”

taehyung

“Why can’t you come to the beach with us?” Taehyung whined inside the hotel room with you as he pulled on his swim trunks.

“Because I hate the bikini I bought. It doesn’t fit me right and I don’t want people staring at me.” You snapped back, flopping back onto the bed and grabbing your phone.

“They’d only be staring because you’re fucking hot.” Taehyung murmured, grabbing a t-shirt to wear with the trunks.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re just saying that to say that, Taehyung. We all know I have no butt and no boobs and basically have the body of a twelve year old boy. There’s no way in hell anyone on that beach is going to find me attractive.”

Taehyung rubbed his forehead with a sigh, looking at you with his lips pressed in a straight line. “I don’t care if you have the body of a walrus. I just want you to come with because I love you and I’d be lonely without you.”

His face looked so pouty and convincing, you had to smile a bit. His aegyo always ended up making him get his way, which was infuriating but also adorable. He waddled over to you cutely and flopped on the bed, a deep laugh escaping him.

You hit his chest playfully, a grin shaping your lips. “Fine asshole, I’ll go.” You grinned, giving him a quick kiss.

jungkook

Jungkook knew you were naturally skinny, and he didn’t care at all. He loved your body and was never shy about cuddling you and being your big spoon. But, the fans always had something to say about your body.

You’d recently been losing some weight just because it was hard for you to want to eat with all the pressure on you to gain weight and be more curvy and “healthy” looking for Jungkook. Jungkook saw this, and tried to help you by giving you decent sized portions of healthy food. But, nothing seemed to work.

You just felt awful about yourself and the fact Jungkook was trying so hard for you. “Baby, it’s okay. I don’t care. As long as you’re healthy and happy, it doesn’t matter.” Jungkook told you one night when he found you in the bathroom on the scale in only your panties.

You blushed deeply, covering your small chest and stepping away from the scale. Jungkook pulled your hands away from your chest, looking at you fondly. “Hey, I love you. You know that, right?” He said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You nodded, emotions suddenly taking over as you broke down sobbing.

You walked into Jungkook’s arms, your face buried in his chest as his warm hands rubbed circles on your naked back. “It’s alright. I’m here. I love you so much.” He whispered again and again, his warm embrace thawing your chilled skin.

“You’re enough.”

masterlist

#bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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mackenziethehuntress · 7 years

Text

Game of Thrones Preferences/Imagines: How You Meet

Tyrion Lannister:

You met Tyrion when he accidentally stumbled into you, in a drunken stupor. He had spilled his chalice of wine down your dress and threw up on your shoes. He quickly wiped the filth from his mouth and looked up into your (e/c) eyes. “My lady, where do I begin to apologize?” He asked. You didn’t answer right away. You just stared down at the little lord in amazement. How could such a handsome man be such a drunken little lecher? “You could start by buying me a new dress and uhm, new shoes.” You replied. He smiled widely. “A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Jon Snow:

You first met Jon Snow at an affair the Starks were having for the King and Queen. He sat at table with a bunch of lowborn boys and their prey for the evening. Your father allowed you quite a bit of wine tonight, as he had his fair share, so you were feeling a little rambunctious. You walked up to the table and took a seat across from the Bastard of Winterfell. “So why aren’t you at the table with the rest of the highborn boys?” You asked, genuinely curious. Jon looked at you for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Lady Catelyn believes it would have been an insult to flaunt a bastard in front of the King and his Queen.” It hadn’t actually occured to you that you were speaking to Jon Snow, you had thought he was just another highborn lad. “I see,” you paused, “and why aren’t you entertaining a lady like the rest of your peers?” You had raised an eyebrow in the direction of the other boys at the table who were each occupied with their own girl.

“With any luck, I’ll be a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch soon. I can’t be distracted by girls.” He stated matter-of-factly. “S'that right?” You asked with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around Jon Snow.” With that said, you stood from your seat and walked away; not daring to look back and check if the bastard was watching.

Jagen H'ghar:

Jagen had come to your rescue when he heard your screams in the distance. A group of foul men had spotted you alone in an alleyway and tried to take advantage of the situation. As soon as the men attacking you had spotted Jagen, they quickly dropped your legs and ran off in fear. You rushed to your feet and pulled your dress down, covering the cuts and the blood beginning to drip from them. “A woman is hurt.” He wasn’t asking but you found yourself saying ‘yes’ in response. A few moments passed and then you realized he was waiting for permission to approach you. You looked into his eyes and nodded. He took his steps carefully, being sure to avoid frightening you further. Jagen held out his hand once he had closed the distance between the two of you. “A man would ask a woman to follow him.” His way of speaking was odd, but you followed him anyway. Jagen guided you through the streets of Braavos before he finally stopped at the steps of the House of Black and White. He opened the door and stood aside for you to enter first. When you didn’t budge, he raised his eyebrow with curiosity.

“When people go in there, they don’t come back out.” You pointed out. Jagen chuckled lightly. “A man is not going to kill a woman, only help.” You chose to believe your rescuer, and moved past him into the building. He followed suit and motioned for you to sit on a nearby bench. He disappeared momentarily before returning with a crate full of bottles and pieces of cloth. He raised your dress slightly, exposing the abrasions adorning your legs. “A woman will feel discomfort.” Jagen warned before blotting a cloth soaked in antiseptic on the cuts. You drew in a sharp breath as the solution stung your skin. Jagen muttered an apology in his odd wordage. Once he was finished cleaning the blood and dirt from your legs, he wrapped a cloth bandage around them; securing it with a pin.

The man at your feet looked up at you. “A woman has been taken care of.” He said. You looked down into your lap before meeting his gaze. “I would ask your name so I can properly thank you.” Jagen stood and then offered his hand to. “A man is no one.” He replied flatly. “Well, no one.” You teased. “Thank you for taking care of my injuries.” Jagen smiled softly before leading you to the door and letting you back into the city.

Robb Stark:

You met Robb when your father and his had settled on an arranged marriage. Princess Marcella was much too young to be betrothed to Robb and Sansa had already been promised to Prince Joffrey. So , there you were, a daughter of a Northern lord being married off to the eldest Stark son to strengthen the alliance between your families. It’s not that Robb was undesirable, in fact you thought of him as especially handsome. Even being the future Lady of Winterfell excited you, but still. You wanted to marry for love, not power. Little did you know, he wanted the same. There you stood, presented in front of the court like some prize. It felt incredibly degrading to you. Robb must have noticed your discomfort because he dispatched from his lord father’s side and asked you to join him outside. The cold air felt amazing on your face, you thought you were going to melt underneath all of the candles that lined the main hall’s ceiling. Robb spoke first. “Is something the matter, my lady?” He asked coolly. You sighed, not wanting to confess your disdain for the arrangement. “Nothing, my lord. I just wish I had the chance to marry for love.” You were surprised to hear the Stark boy laugh. “Aye. You and me both.” He replied.

“Truly?” You asked, surprised. He shot you a toothy grin, sending an unexpected chill up your spine. You finally understood why they call him the young wolf, his canine teeth popped over the skin of his bottom lip as he smiled. “I could ask my father to reconsider the arrangement.” He offered. “I’d forever be in your debt, Robb Stark.” You replied.

Jaime Lannister:

The first time you met the Kingslayer was at a jousting tourney. It was Prince Joffrey’s nameday and Jaime Lannister was to face The Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell. The tourney was just about to begin as Ser Loras road into sight on his beautiful white mare. He stopped just short of you and handed a white rose to the girl sitting beside you. She was awestruck, naturally. Loras Tyrell was wanted by nearly every girl in the Seven Kingdoms and nearly every boy wanted to be him. Shortly after, Ser Jaime rode in on his destrier. His golden hair blew in the breeze as he rode near your spot in the stands. Just as Loras did before him, Jaime stopped in front of the girl who had the white rose. The Kingslayer plucked the flower from her hand, inhaled it’s fragrance, and then gave it to you. Half of the crowd gasped at Ser Jaime’s actions, the other half laughed. Jaime winked at you before riding off to his end of the field. The girl beside you attempted to snatch her flower from you. She was unsuccessful, you simply pulled your hand back and smirked at her; waving your pointer finger back and worth in an ‘I don’t think so’ manner. She rolled her eyes and fixated her attention on the men who were about to joust. As did you, secretly hoping the Kingslayer would win. Your hopes were crushed when The Knight of Flowers unseated Ser Jaime. He had fallen into the dirt and muddied up his once shining gold armor. The girl to your left laughed and gave you a look of mockery. You had half a mind to push her over the railing and into the mud herself, but you decided against it. That was until she grabbed the white rose Jaime had stolen from her and ripped each petal from it until it was nothing but a stem. You laughed in amusement before you shoved her backwards and she fell from the stands into the muck below. You looked over to Jaime Lannister, who was smiling from ear to ear at your actions. Oh how he loved when women fought because of him.

Theon Greyjoy: The day you met Theon Greyjoy was one to remember for years to come. You had unintentionally walked in on him as he was about to dress. He just stood there, watching you as naked as his nameday. “My apologies!” You shouted as you quickly closed the door to his room. You swore he was posing there, just for you.

You heard him speak from the other side of the door. “Most people knock.” It took him a minute or two to open the door. “Robb told me you were out hunting with Lord Stark.” You told him as he signaled for you to enter his room. “I’m the new handmaiden.” Theon looked you up and down before pointing to the clothes in your hands. “I take it those are mine then?” He questioned. You handed over his freshly washed clothes and returned the smile he was giving you. He was a lot less intimidating fully clothed. “I must go now.” You said. “I need to take Lady Sansa her laundry.” Theon bid you farewell by opening the door to his room once more. “The next time you want to see me naked, just ask. You don’t have to barge in while I’m changing.” He was only half serious. “Why thank you Theon Greyjoy, I shall remember that.” You quipped before shutting the door behind you.

You hadn’t even closed the door completely before you heard the laugh of none other than Robb Stark. He was leaning up against a stone wall, watching you as you left Theon’s room. “You set me up, didn’t you my lord?” You asked. He laughed louder and harder now that you understood what he had done. “Come on, (Y/N). Don’t tell me you didn’t like what you saw in that room.” He had tears in his Tully blue eyes from laughing so much. “Maybe a little.” You responded, winking at Robb as you walked past.

Ramsey Bolton: You were wandering around in the woods near the Dreadfort, collecting berries and flowers. It was a gloomy day in that part of Westeros. It had only stopped raining a few short minutes before you left your house to explore. You were humming a tune and tossing wild berries into your mouth when an arrow went buzzing pass your head and lodged itself in a tree.

Without pause, you looked up and scoured about for the source of the arrow that just about removed your head from your shoulders. A man only a head taller than you stood in the distance, wet hair stuck to his face. He’d been out here for awhile. Finally, you found enough courage to call out to him. “Have I done something wrong, my lord?” You asked, not knowing if he actually was a lord or not. You didn’t want to risk offending a man who could easily kill you if he wished. “Why are you out here in the cold, my lady?” He replied as he closed the distance between you. When he drew near you recognized him as Ramsey Bolton, the newly legitimized bastard of Roose Bolton. You knew exactly what this monster was capable of, you had just watched him flay your best friend last week for refusing to lay with him. You’d never had the privilege of meeting him until now. “Just picking some wildflowers, my lord.” You forced a smile. “They’re simply breathtaking.” Ramsey smiled at you, but it wasn’t a good smile. You knew he was thinking of twisted things he could do to you. You were lucky he hadn’t brought his hounds with him. Surely, he would have sicked them on you and hunted you down; hunting people was his favorite. “You must be a wildflower then.” He said softly. You were surprised to find yourself blushing, but you couldn’t help but enjoy his compliment. Although he had charmed you into a reaction, you didn’t dare give him the satisfaction. You gracefully bowed your head and let your (h/c) locks cover the crimson tint on your cheeks. Your breath hitched when Ramsey clutched your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, his grip hurt but once he heard your sudden intake of breath he relaxed. He didn’t want to hurt you. “Don’t hide your face, my lady. I enjoy it when I make women blush.” His voice was stern, it should’ve frightened you. “My apologies, my lord.” You looked into his icy blue eyes for the first time ever. You saw a life’s worth of pain in them, but there was something else there. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Ramsey dropped his hand from your chin and pulled a pale, purple wildflower from your hand. “May I?” He asked, awaiting your approval. Once you had given it to him, he tucked the flower behind your ear and offered his arm to you. “Come, my lady. Let me escort you back to the Dreadfort for dinner.” You sighed internally. “Yes, Lord Ramsey.” You spoke, fearing what was to come.

Joffrey Baratheon:

“You can’t deny the prince, my love.“ Your mother spoke softly in your ear as she escorted you to the Red Keep. “He will have you as his wife is he commands it.” A single tear slid down your cheek and rested on your jaw momentarily before you wiped it away. You didn’t want to marry the prince, he was cruel and unforgiving. Joffrey Baratheon had thrown a temper tantrum on the Kings Road a few months ago regarding his betrothal to Sansa Stark. He didn’t want her he wanted you, a noble girl from Casterly Rock who was supposed to marry a Dornishman’s son. Your mother would never pass an opportunity to sneak into Cersei Lannister’s good graces. Little did she know, she’d never accept any wife Joffrey chose as it would threaten her claim to the throne. After Robert Baratheon’s untimely demise and the execution of Eddard Stark, there was no reason for Joffrey to marry Sansa. You were being called to King’s Landing to meet with the soon to be King and the rest of them. Your heart sunk when you entered the throne room and saw golden hair sitting on the Iron Throne. This was it. Your mother had dressed you in a low cut, Lannister red dress. It perfectly extenuated your breasts and your tiny waist. You couldn’t believe your own mother was whoring you out to a sadist. You started trembling when you got closer to Prince Joffrey. “Now, now dear. We mustn’t embarrass ourselves in front of our future family.” She whispered forcefully in your ear, her grip on your arm tightening more with each word that left her aged lips.

When you reached the end of the line and were directly in front of the what was left of the royal family, you curtsied and smiled graciously. It was a good act while it lasted. A man from the crowd yelled at you. “Whore!” He shouted. Joffrey grew with rage, his pale face turning a flaming red. “Guards! Grab that blasphemous fool and bring him here. I need to teach him a lesson on how he should speak to my betrothed.” You stood there, frozen. Unable to control your body or your emotions, you looked onward in fear. The Kingsguard brought the man before you and made him kneel. “Now apologize to my lady!” He barked from the throne. “I’m sorry, my lady. Please forgive me for I am a fool!” He pleaded in front of you. You looked up to Joffrey who was watching with an evil smile plastered on his face. You returned your gaze to the man who was currently begging at your feet. “You are forgiven, sir.” You choked, trying to hold back tears. Joffrey laughed loudly. “Guards show everyone in this room what fate they can expect if they speak out against my lady. Cut out his tongue!” The would be king ordered. Not a second passed before the guards carried out Prince Joffrey’s sentence. You watched as they cut out the mans tongue and threw it at your feet. As tears finally fell from your cheeks, you whispered. Nobody heard what you said, but the Prince noticed your lips parting as if you were speaking. “What did you say, my lady?” He questioned, sounding concerned. “I can’t marry you!” You shouted before breaking free of your mother’s grip. “I can’t marry you!”

So there it is! The first preference is done. I hope you all enjoy. I am aware that some are much longer than others, the intent was for all of them to be the length of Tyrion’s but alas I got carried away… I’d also be lying if I said that Jaime’s wasn’t my favorite.

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones preferences #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf #A Song of Ice and Fire #preferences #imagines #tyrion lannister #jon snow #jagen hghar #robb stark #jaime lannister #ramsay bolton #ramsey snow #joffrey baratheon

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